#thinks the ocean is too big and hides from it when he could; gets easily sick and loses a child to a big dark forest

[hxney-lemcn]

Jealousy is a Bitter Look — Overblots x gn! reader

summery: how the overblots react to being jealous (some are a bit more jealous than others, but they all have their moment).

tw: unhealthy attachments (Malleus, but he's working on it). ngl this shows a bit of their flaws so its not complete fluff and a bit of a character study.

a/n: so I can't make a fluffy/cute jealous fic cus I find jealousy an emotion to work on? Like its not terrible to be jealous, it happens to the best of us, I just don't wanna romanticize it? 'Cus if left unchecked it can lead to toxic relationships so that's why I wrote this in a more uplifting manner (?). Idk, I'm weird ik.

wc: 1.5k (~200 per character)

Master List

❥ Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle tried not to get jealous. He trusted you wholly. But sometimes his insecurities got the best of him. Cater was more affectionate, did you wish he were more affectionate like that? Trey was kind, did you wish he would give you more? Ace and Deuce were stupid, but it was undeniable how well you got along, did you wish he were more carefree? Those feelings would tug at his heart, but it was something he needed to work on himself, it wasn’t your problem. That’s what he kept repeating in his mind as he watched you have fun with your friends. Lips downturned hidden behind a teacup, ocean grey eyes sharply watching the scene before him. He thought he was hiding it better, but it was clear to you with how he pouted. Excusing yourself from Ace and Deuce, you made your way to the ruby haired housewarden. Riddle greeted you, eyes softening and frown lifting slightly. You tell him that he could’ve just told you if he was jealous. Unlike some, he won’t deny it fully, instead explaining his reasoning. Work on it with him, reassure him that you like him for him. If you wanted someone else, you wouldn’t be with him, and he takes that to heart.

❥ Leona Kingscholar

Jealousy is Leona’s middle name. After everything he’s been through, constantly being in second place, never getting what he truly wants…he feels like having you will slip through his fingers as well. Being with you, creating all those happy memories…it scares him. That one day you’ll find someone better and all he’ll have left of you are memories. So yes, he does get jealous, quite easily, and he masks it with his ego. He’s the best, don’t look at anyone else, he’s a prince, why would you settle for less? It’s quite clear that he’s jealous, his tail flicking, ears twitching, the sharp glare. When you confront him he won’t tell you the full truth, that’s a step too far at the moment. Be gentle with him, if someone flirts with you, tell them you have a boyfriend. Leona gets this smug smile and a warmth in his chest. As much as he won’t hesitate to claim you if someone won’t stop their advances, he loves it when you claim him. After all, it shows how much you care for him, how much you want him, and even the big bad lion needs a bit of reassurance.

❥ Azul Ashengrotto

He’s actually quite similar to Leona in this regard. Azul was bullied when he was younger, which led him to having an inferiority complex about almost everything. He is bad at hiding it as well, clearly needing to be reassured that he was doing well and he was a good partner. It was just hard for him to comprehend that someone as amazing as you was actually with someone like him. He loves you so intensely, he can’t help but let his insecurities get the best of him sometimes. He thinks you’d hate his mer form or that someone that could offer you more will swoop you away from him. He wouldn’t even blame you, he’d just be hurt he couldn’t do more for you. (He’s thinking all this even though he would and could offer you the world if you asked). When someone is trying to flirt with you outright he’s trying to mask his insecurity with his suaveness, asking if the person needs anything and if you're uncomfortable he leaves in a small threat about Floyd not being in a good mood (if you’re really uncomfortable he might use Jade as the threat instead). Azul checks in on you, but if you're smiling he might die a bit. Please just reassure him that you only have eyes for him.

❥ Jamil Viper

Unlike Leona and Azul, Jamil doesn’t get that jealous or has an inferiority complex. No. Instead, he knows you wouldn’t go behind his back, after all, you managed to become his partner and that’s a feat in itself. He does get smug when you tell someone off, or politely inform them that you have a boyfriend. Jamil reveals in their look of defeat (he is a bit of a sadist in that regard). The time his jealousy truly shines is when Kalim is in the equation. He refuses to allow Kalim to take anything else from him, never mind you. The way Kalim easily makes you smile, steals your time with frivolous parties, puts his hands on you…yeah it's a feat that Jamil didn’t snap. Jamil is very good at masking his feelings, but the facade unravels when you both are alone for once. Give him your attention, affection, love, reassure him through touch that you want him. If you poke and prod enough he’ll admit he’s jealous, how it just reminds him that Kalim always takes and takes, afraid that you’ll fall for the charm (that Jamil couldn’t understand) of Kalim and fall into his arms instead. But when you soothe him, tell him that you see Kalim more of a brother if anything…Jamil will calm down and realize how foolish he’s being.

❥ Vil Schoenheit

Vil, jealous? Yeah no. Not normally at least. Have you seen him? Vil is one of the fairest of them all. If someone tried flirting with you he’d laugh in their face if that wasn’t disgraceful. If anything, you were the lucky one in this relationship…he does cherish you though, and he loves you more than he’d like to admit. You may be a lucky potato…but he was one lucky man as well. He managed to snag your heart without the flashing lights and fame, you loved him for who he was and he was grateful. So when Vil watches Neige talk to you with no care in the world, hearts practically in the boy’s eyes…yeah it's the one scenario you’ll witness a jealous Vil. He’ll perch himself by your side, arm slung around you as he greets you with a kiss to the cheek. A pleasant surprise as Vil isn’t this affectionate in public usually. Neige doesn’t seem to take the hint, so Vil ups the ante, talking about your last date and how he’s lucky you chose him. It’s an obvious change (and everyone knows the vitriol Vil holds for Neige). You eat the attention up, but after you're alone in his room, give him a ton of kisses, teasing him about how sweet he was, he doesn’t like to admit his jealousy, but he loves your affection.

❥ Idia Shroud

I’m noticing a pattern. Most of these guys have an inferiority complex. Idia’s is the most obvious. He barely believes you actually like him, so him being jealous is more common than not. Depending on how long you’ve been together he’ll react differently. If it's in the beginning, he’s blaming and degrading himself for not being good enough, that you deserve better and he locks himself in his room. He needs a lot of reassurance in this stage, lots of quality time. The longer you are together the more confident he gets. Someone tries to flirt with you; he's dissing them with his chronically online lingo. Doing that little giggle when you elbow him trying not to grin. Although those self-deprecating thoughts still swirl in his brain, he’s learned to trust and believe you, after all you decided to stay with him for how long? Not to mention that your reassurances made him feel better and trust you. You’ve seen his worst multiple times and you’re still by his side. Besides, if anyone dares insults Idia in their attempt to woo you you go crazy, insulting them which makes Idia want to melt, die, and kiss you all at once.

❥ Malleus Draconia

Malleus is a bit confusing. On one hand he 100% trusts you, on the other he can be a bit childish. You spend too much time without him or go out to something he wasn’t invited to and you’ll find him pouting upon your arrival. He doesn’t mean to, he’s glad you have others to have fun with and he doesn’t want to restrict you in any way…but he is a bit needy when it comes to your affection. He is so touch-starved and isolated that he can’t help but cling to you, feeling a bitter pang when you have to go. If anyone dares to flirt with you it's when he isn’t by your side and you're declining them instantly. If someone is actually insane and tries to flirt with you when Malleus is present either 1. Malleus watches on trying to hide his smugness as you decline or 2. Sebek is shouting insults at them before you even get the chance. All in all, Malleus isn’t too jealous, and when he is he tries to work on his possessiveness. He wants a healthy relationship with you after all, and he’d do anything to make you happy, even if that means letting you go for a day to hang out with your other friends.

[kyseya]

The octopus

The octopus-hybrid Octavious

This octopus hybrid was born in the large aquarium he called home. It’s all he’s ever known. Despite the vast variation in plants and spacious tank he lives in having been built with an octopus’s natural habitat in mind, he has no clue how it is in the real ocean. Is it the same? Or is it much different. He wouldn’t know.

However, he can’t help but wonder. Sometimes he catches himself drifting off to somewhat macabre scenarios in his mind. He’ll think about whether he would be able to survive in the sea as he is now, or would he easily get eaten by a much larger predator. He tries not to delve into the latter scenario.

As octopuses are mostly solitary creatures the aquarium decided to put him in a tank of his own. From what he can recall(and heard from the workers of the aquarium) he has many siblings- none he was close to of course. They were taken to other facilities right after hatching. Perhaps they also sit in a watery tank contemplating their existence. Or maybe they’re dead. Octavious can say for sure that his mother is dead though. When an octopus female lays eggs, she stops eating and dedicates the rest of her life to protect her eggs.

Octavious doesn’t let that fact rule his life however. Just like with his siblings, he didn’t ever get to know any of them.

In the first years of his life he never found the solidarity uncomfortable. It was quite the opposite. He enjoyed his alone time. He was fed and he was safe, that’s what mattered the most. Too bad he’s the aquariums only octopus hybrid. The visitors often want to take a look at him and get impatient whenever he doesn’t show himself. He wish he could ask them how they would feel about getting gawked at everyday. If that were the case, they would also hide away in their privat cave.

He really, really disliked the humans pressing their face to the glass, trying to sneak a peek at him. He’d probably say he has an antagonistic view of every human.

That is, before he met you. You were one of the new caretakers hired by the zoo and that was obvious by how you messed up and clumsily moved about in the beginning. At forst he believed you to be another annoying human but you proved him wrong. You were so kind and patient. You never got mad when he refused to show himself whenever it was feeding time. You never tried to force him to interact with the visitors.

It took a while before he felt ready to talk to you. He had imagined you frowning and scurrying away because of how he ignored you during all you previous encounters. But you didn’t. Instead you smiled and greeted him cheerfully. The two of you spoke every chance you got and slowly you scene an irreplaceable part of his life.

He realised he didn’t simply like you as a caretaker or a mere friend; he wanted more. He wanted to be your mate.

He understands that there is a whole ‘you live on land and he lives in water’- thing but he is able to stay above the surface for a certain amount of time, plus he also has his own private cave only he can access. It’s above water so you can be there and be completely fine. It’s not a big problem.

Octavious often dreams about you staying in his cave with him. You could talk forever without anyone interrupting and you could cuddle and play to your hearts extent. There would be no one to take away your attention from him. Being someone who usually shies in the opposite direction of attention, this is really confusing him.

But he doesn’t mind it, no. He loves you after all! Octavious will do anything to be your only mate.

[kingconia]

Hello! I love your works. I wanted to know if I could request the S/O who writes letters (the one you did for Diasomnia), but with Rook, Riddle, Idia and Cater. I think these would be funny combinations. Thank you and have a good day!

A/N: Thank you! Have a nice day as well.

The Diasomnia post is here.

IDIA SHROUD, CATER DIAMOND, RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS AND ROOK HUNT WITH OLD-FASHIONED S/O, WHO WRITES AND SENDS THEM LETTERS, INSTEAD OF USING THE PHONE

Idia Shroud. 💙

— Idia is speechless. What do you mean you don't want to use your gadgets? What are, a victorian lady?

— He almost offended about your carelessness towards phones and messengers. Makes a whole PowerPoint presentations to help you understand the benefits of technology;

— If you accept his opinion, but still continue write him letters, Idia will easily get used to it, though, still through fuming. And, don't expect letters from him—he will only email you;

— But he decides that it is still a win. Because, you know what? You are almost from the pages of his favourite love interest in one of these manhwas he secretly consumes at nights.

•

”Hm,” Idia rests cheek against his palm, glancing at Ortho lazily. ”What is it?”

”Another letter from Y/n-sama!” The boy exclaims, extending a familiar beautiful blue envelope.

A tired sigh escapes Idia's lips, but he can't help but smile at this slightly.

There is something, indeed, charming in way you send him letters in a certain part of days, well-knowing when to catch him free.

’My dear king of the Underworld,

I recall you having an important meeting today, and so, I am sending you this letter only now, when there is less labour for you to deal with. Tell me, how was your day? Had you eaten well? Should I bring you some fruits when I come? Perhaps, a pomegranate?

My day was remarkable, yet...’

His cheeks flush instantly.

If you only knew how his heart aches for you...

Cater Diamond. ❤️

— Another chronically online person is here! Cater spends half of his free-time, scrolling through different social media, and so, he is surprised that you don't do that, too;

— But he is actually really amused by your unique habit. Cater sees it as a game, and he likes how interesting you make everything. Definitely will never judge you;

— He keeps photos of all your letters! He doesn't post them online—though, he can snap a photo of the closed envelope and write some teasing description—but he makes sure he has everything kept down;

— I think, sometimes he tries to write you letters, too. But it is rather an exception than something usual. And... He is much clumsier with words than you are.

•

”What are you doing?” Trey frowns, quickly glaring at his housemate.

Cater is sitting on the floor, with thousand of letters scattered around, shuffling through them desperately. There is a one piece of empty paper in front of him, and a ink paper that seems to be leaking for a while...

”I want to write letter for Y/n,” Cater announces, tongue sticking out as he searches for something in particular. ”But for that, I need to match this... Bummer language style they have... But, shit, it is hard.”

Trey huffs. He leans forward slightly, almost meaning to say that, surely, Cater can't be serious, when he actually stumbles across a few of your writings.

’Through the fleeting sounds of birds, singing their omnipotent hymns, I had heard a news worthy of a feast...’

’I have this ocean feeling, when I am looking in your eyes—which can be for hours, truly—and when I do so, it seems like the love consumes every inch of me, hiding in lungs, and...’

”Good luck,” Trey cracks out, clearly amused.

Cater sighs. Luck is exactly what he needs right now.

Riddle Rosehearts. ❤️

— Honestly, Riddle is not a big fan of social media himself, so he doesn't mind your habit of writing letters at all;

— If anything, he takes your hobby very seriously. He thinks, it is a perfect sign of how truly mannered you are For him, it is almost you are a princess. And he likes playing a knight very much;

— He doesn't keep all of your letters, but, he chooses the most important ones to save. And the same goes with writing you back—mostly, Riddle likes to have you for a personal date, so it is invitation to his dorm he sends you usually;

— But the thing is... Riddle gets easily flustered by your letters. You write so beautifully and gently about him, that he can't help but blush... Sometimes, he can just space out for hours, staring at your letters.

•

”I wonder what is wrong with housewarden...” Ace asks, trying sneakingly throw another stare at Riddle over his shoulder.

”What do you mean...” Deuce asks absentmindedly, staring in the given direction. ”Oh.”

Riddle, their housewarden, sits in the opposite side of library. There is a paper in his hands, which he glares at without blinking—for a minutes now—and his cheeks are terribly red. He doesn't even move. He just stares.

”Maybe, he is sick?”

”Dunno...”

”He is reading another letter from Y/n,” a sudden voice appears out of nowhere, and as boys hardly conceal their yelping, Chenya smiles at them radiantly. ”Can you blame him? Even my cheeks heated when I read it!”

As Deuce and Ace exchange looks, equally annoyed by this stupid cat's sudden teleportation, Chenya starts to declare what he had read aloud, in a very thin voice:

”Oh, Riddle, a petal to my stem! There is not a single day, when I don't think about you sticking to my heart as if thorns...”

But, oh, isn't it Chenya? Surely he just being over-dramatic...

Right?..

Rook Hunt. 💜

— Rook is absolutely happy to receive letters from you. After all, his eccentric character is very weak for such things—and here you are, spoiling him even more;

— He keeps all of your letters, and he hangs them all over the walls. Even the shortest ones! He just can't throw away anything coming from you;

— And, of course, he writes you back. Always. He would never forgive himself, if he does otherwise;

— Though, his favourite part of your games, when both of you hide letters in places, where only you could find them! Much like a hunt, but a very lovely one!

•

You sigh quietly, fingers massaging temples that harshly that it almost hurts. Sadly, it doesn't help in the slightest. Just as all medicine you took, in order to be saved from annoying headache.

There is a lot of things to do for you, but instead, you lay down on the bed, helpless and tired. But when you turn on your left side, you are suddenly met by the violet envelope with the golden seal that lays on the second pillow of yours. Instinctively, you smile.

You know from whom it is.

’Good afternoon, celui qui tient mon coeur.

I am aware of the headache that bothers you throughout this morning, and thus, I will not pester you with additional questions about the sudden absence of letters—please, keep your rest from me and the outside world.

I also made sure no one tries to take your time today. Teachers and classmates are warned. Tout pour toi, mon amour.

P.S: If you don't mind, I am planning to visit you later, with new made tarts of mine.

Much love, ton admirateur timide.’

You push the letter to you chest as you relax completely, knowing that you have unofficial day off.

Ah. What a caring lover you have!

A/N: Translation for Rook—’the one that holds my heart’/‘anything for you, my love’/’your shy admirer’.

[margarine-archives]

Can I’m have stardust cookie x male reader who is overprotective over sorbet shark cookie and ask him if he can adopt them please sorbet they have being alone in ocean for years I’m want them to be happy headcanons

Taking Care of Sorbet Shark Cookie with: Stardust Cookie ! (M!Reader)

notes: I am finished with exams ! I will try and complete requests one by one !

- stardust doesn't question where or how you found such a unique cookie, but doesn't hesitate to agree when you ask if both of you can keep them

- his heart melts at sorbet shark's happy yet sweet demeanor, which is why he was instantly attached the moment he saw them in your arms ! Having a cookie like them in his life was also a big change for stardust, being used to loneliness and violence, and he felt truly happy

- due to meeting space doughnut before sorbet shark's arrival, he's already used to the foreign language he cannot understand, but somehow you understand them quite easily. Though he's not really surprised at this because of how he's the only one to understand space doughnut (he believes its because he met them first, same goes for you !)

- though in his mind, he's hesitant, he wonders if he'll be able to present himself as a good 'father' to sorbet shark cookie. He's still adjusting to earthbread, someone such as him who is from space were never taught things like this, much so how to take care of a kid.

- he mostly relies on you, his boyfriend. He constantly asks questions about the child, what do they eat, what requirements they need to keep them happy and alive, etc. etc.

- though he is not skilled parent wise, he, too, will become a very overprotective dad to whoever he thinks may harm them. He's not up to taking that sort of risk and honestly, it's his nightmare sometimes (before sorbet came into his life, its always about your safety, despite knowing you can protect yourself). He's grown so attached to the cute cookie

- stardust doesn't blame you for your protective tendencies towards the cookie, because he, too, feels the same way ! He felt quite the same when he felt the urge to protect space doughnut from harm's way (ehem.. dr. evilgaze..) and he felt the same for you ! so the feeling, or urge, to protect isn't foreign to him anymore

- would bring them along in the space train, sorbet shark cookie will be happily introduced to space doughnut, and they happily get along really well ! (seem to understand eachother quite easily aswell, probably because they both speak their own language).

- would teach them how to eat starflour crisps correctly because he doesn't want them eating it with the wrapper on (sorbet probably follows how space doughnut eats it anyways)

- found out sorbet shark could actually talk after taking you both (following an excited space doughnut) to the space beach. Once sorbet dived into the water, the cookie he was taking care of became.. an actual shark ?

- it was certainly a surprise, but he got used to it quickly ! It's like him in some degree and he finds that amusing. He's also glad he can finally have an understandable conversation with the cookie, he imagines it could get quite tiring having to translate for him all the time.

- he's quite happy, and he never thought that there would be a time where he can feel happiness, he thought that he would simply return to space, endlessly wandering through the cosmos, he'd never think that two cookies (and a doughnut) could change his perspective of a normal life

- he's thinking of what cookies call 'marriage'. He'd say it's meaningless back then, but the thought of strengthening your relationship with the title of being his 'husband' makes him quite happier. And moreso, he's quite bad at hiding it..

[sandinthemachine]

Can I get the "I'm not scared but if you are you can hold my hand" with könig I need more of this ball of anxiety. Maybe watching a scary movie or everyone going through a haunted trail? Maybe he's scared of the anamatronic shows that are in the malls and doesn't wanna walk past them cause he saw 1 (one) FNAF video and thought it was real. Idk what one you use but I just need him being a big baby lmaoo

I have been trying to write this for a month so I kinda decided fuck it let's polish it best I can and post it now

The camel idea came from a farmer I know (sorry, buddy, it was too good not to steal), and the jello idea...uhh, congratulations, you know one (1) weird fact about me :/

enjoy!

Words: 1159ish

-

“I don’t get it, it’s just a ton of water.”

You gasp melodramatically, shaking your head. “König, you did not just call the ocean ‘a ton of water.’” You hold your fingers up to make exaggerated air quotes.

“That is what it is.”

You make a frustrated sound, flinging your arms up, only to be met by a chuckle. “You’re terrible, you know that?”

He bursts into a full-on laugh. “You should see your face when you get frustrated, it gets so cute and scrunchy.”

You squeeze your shoulders up, glowering, but he sees right through it, swinging an arm around them and pulling you into his side to kiss your hair. You bite your lips, trying to hide the growing smile, but he knows it’s there.

“Alright them,” he straightens up, clearing his throat and trying to school his face into something serious. “Let us go see what is so special about your ocean in particular.”

You smile. “Trust me, your mind will be blown. But you have to wait a bit. I need to swing by the barn first, I promised I’d check in on the calves this morning while the farm hands are busy with planting.”

You were overjoyed that König was finally getting to visit your hometown, but with his busy schedule the only time he could come see you was smack dab in the middle of planting season. Luckily you did mostly barn work, so with a healthy amount of convincing and only a little promised overtime your manager had decided to let you have your afternoons off. It was still early in the season, so there weren’t too many calves yet, and it shouldn’t take long at all before you could enjoy your first day of adventures with your partner.

“I could come help, you know. It would go much faster.”

“You would do that?”

He snorts. “Of course I would.”

You beam at him, wrapping him into a tight hug. “You’re the best,” you mumble into his chest.

“I know.”

You scoff, shoving him away with a laugh.

-

As you swing the barn door open, you’re greeted by a rumbling bellow that has you leaping backwards. “Holy shit, I completely forgot.” You turn to König, blushing a bit. “So it turns out we’re babysitting a camel right now for the next farm over. He’s really loud but he’s not that bad, I promise.”

König freezes. “No. No way.”

“What?”

“I don’t do camels.”

“What do you mean you don’t-”

“They are tall and weird.”

“So you two should get along perfectly.”

“This is no time for jokes!” König throws his forearms over his head and turns around.

You snort. “Is it the neck thing? Are you afraid of alpacas, too?”

“I am…” he pauses, letting out a rushed breath. “I am not afraid of camels.”

“Of course, of course. You’re not afraid of anything, big guy. But…you know, we could get this done faster if we split up, I’ll muck out the camel while you do the calves next door.”

“Uh-uh, no way I’m leaving you alone with a camel.”

You shake your head at him, breathing an exasperated sigh. “So what, then? You think you can go near him without having a heart attack?”

He glares at you, and you throw your hands up in surrender before turning and heading back into the barn. You hear his stomping footsteps follow you, but as soon as you go up to the camel’s stall, they freeze.

You pause, turning around to take in the sight of König. Tall and broad, a soldier through and through, easily one of the scariest people you know. And here he stands, arms crossed tightly over his chest, bottom lip puffed out. Pouting like a teenager.

You can’t help but giggle at that. “Come on, then.” You hold out your hand. “I’ll guard you with my life, I promise.”

He scoffs, turning to glare at the wall. “I don’t get scared,” he grumbles. “But…if you are, I’ll hold your hand.”

“Oh, I’m terrified.”

“Fine, then.”

-

Luckily it’s a day where the camel decides to be well-behaved. So an hour later the two of you recline on the beach, sweaty and smelling like the barn, laughing over ice cream. Well, you are. König finished his in two bites.

You glance up, eyes finding his. “So what gave you such strong feelings about camels anyway?”

He sighs, leaning back on his forearms. “It was a…what’s the word, those places where you go to touch all the animals and…”

“Oh! Petting zoo.”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“Sooo…what happened at the petting zoo?”

He chews his lip, glancing down. “I was small…well, smaller, and I was feeding the animals. And I kept holding out the food to the camel, and then…” he chuckles, swiping a hand over his mouth, “every time it would try to eat I would jump back and laugh at it, and it made the silliest sounds.” He trails off, face going deadly serious. “And then it…spat…all over me, and my entire family laughed.”

You nod, chewing on your tongue. “Yeah, that’s…” you swallow, staring at your ice cream, “that sucks.” Your voice cracks and you bite your tongue, trying not to smile. “How old were you?”

“12.”

“WHAT?!” You cackle, slapping your palm over your mouth and falling back into the sand, shaking. “You…when you...when you said really little I thought you meant,” you guffaw, burying your face in your hands, “I thought you meant actually…”

“It’s not funny,” he says flatly, staring out to the ocean. “I am traumatized for life.”

You snort. “That’s what you get for being an asshole.”

His head snaps back towards you, but the side of his mouth is curling up slightly.

“Hey, it’s okay.” You sit up, patting his shoulder in mock camaraderie. “I’m afraid of jello.”

“The…food?” His eyebrows scrunch as you nod and he gives you a weird look.

“I mean it!” You grin. “When I was a kid I’d always have nightmares about drowning in jello, my mom couldn’t even take me through the jello aisle at the grocery store because I’d start crying.”

He stares at his knees, rubbing a hand over his mouth.

“I know you’re smiling.”

“I’m not.” He shakes his head emphatically, only for his shoulders to immediately shake with laughter.

You chuckle, joining him.

“You know,” he leans back again, grinning. “I’m gonna make you jello someday.”

“Please don’t.”

“I will.”

“I’ll bring a camel into the house if you do.”

He giggles. “Yes, go to the grocery store and buy a camel.”

“I have my ways.”

“I’m sure you do,” he scoffs, pulling you into his side. “I’ll make sure to watch out for stray camels.”

You snuggle into his shoulder. “Yeah, you’d better,” you yawn. “Better watch your back.”

“Always do.” He kisses your forehead, smiling as your eyes start to drift closed.

[str4wbees]

over, under, through

1k / greg hirsch x gn!reader / link to ao3

-

Greg is so long, the whole wide expanse of him, you still can't fully actualize it in your brain. Your head is resting on his stomach and it doesn't even take up half of it, laying horizontal across the bed while his head is up on the pillows. The rich, expensive pillows, feather down, thousand-count thread sheets of his bed in his fancy new apartment. 

You knew him before all of this–before his world got turned upside down and filled with corporate masterminds–before Tom and Shiv and Logan. 

He had taught you how to tie a tie, back when you were kids–his first formal event that called for it when his father wasn't around–in fact, you're not even sure how he knew how to, but he did, and you swear to this day you paid attention but as you lean up and over to loosen it from around his collar your hands fumble until you give up in frustration.

Greg laughs. You pout at him in protest. He covers his (enormous, so big they hide yours completely) hands over yours and brings them up to his mouth to kiss the back of your knuckles gently. He looks up at you with his eyes alight, and you don't say it because you don't have to, but you love him.

"We were 14!" You defend yourself as he lets your hands down gently and loosens the tie himself. You get too distracted unbuttoning and popping his collar to notice he's looped it around your neck.

You think that single item might be worth even more than your college tuition, ten or so years ago. You think it might still be able to cover it now, with inflation and out of state additives. 

He's untied it completely, and the fabric pulling taught against the back of your neck makes your head feel a little fuzzy. He notices, of course. There's a stupid smirk that you kind of want to slap off his stupid face, but your limbs won't listen, feeling like jelly under his attention. He doesn't even say anything, just chuckles, a small exhalation through his nose as he focuses on going under, over, through.

You hadn't been paying attention to the tie in the first place.

"Done," he says gently, cupping the tops of your shoulders once like he's adding the finishing touch.

You say nothing in response, just keep staring into his eyes like you'd be content to do it all night. He looks back at you expectantly.

He tugs on the tie gently, but your body is so pliant you end up with your head in the crook of his neck. You make no move to sit up and he pushes against you slightly.

"Goof. It's your turn now."

"'m never gonna get it," you mumble into his neck and your lips pressing against his skin leave goosebumps in their wake.

"C'mon," Greg says, hands at your hips to lift you up off him and into his lap. "Try. For me? Just once and then we can be done."

You lean in towards him slowly and kiss his mouth–you can feel him smile before he says something along the lines of you're not getting off that easy but you can't be sure. He pushes against your shoulders with little force but you move like you'd been ordered to.

"I gotta undo it and tie it up again?"

"Yes," Greg exhales with a laugh. "You got it. I promise."

You lift your head to look at him and when you do he's already looking right at you. Sometimes the way he looks at you makes you want to douse yourself in lighter fluid; expectant only because he knows you, patient, kind. He trusts you. Trusts you enough to have you in his bed on his lap, in a city where he could have very easily left you behind.

You don't look down at your hands as they move. He doesn't look away, either, and it's not the kind of eye contact the both of you hate, it's not painful. You want it to last forever, swim into his big ocean eyes and float.

"Help," you plead in a quiet voice when you've loosened the tie but can't get the knot undone.

He doesn't even stop looking at you for this. He just says, "pull, here," and knows exactly where to move your hand somehow. He puppeteers them over, under, through, lets the knot rest just in the hollow of your throat.

"Done," he says with a smile.

"Done," you echo. "I can kiss you now?"

Greg's whole face splits with his grin–it reaches his eyes the way you love, where his crow's feet come out by the crinkles. He laughs, too. It's perfect.

"Yes," he says, raising his brows like he's humored by you. "Yes, you can kiss me now."

So you do.

And you don't really stop. There's another part of you that wants to consume him–swallow him whole–and you think it's only because you know he would let you. You want people in the world to know that he is yours. You want all the people up in that skyscraper to know, before he was a cousin, before he was an asset or a bargaining chip or an assistant, Gregory Hirsch was yours.

He gave himself to you freely. And you did the same thing in return. And while he can't exactly walk into Waystar Royco with your lipstick stain on his cheek–unprofessional, he'd hear it from Tom, fears it'd climb the rungs of the ladder all the way up to Logan–there are parts of you he carries with him into the office, things no one else sees. No one's hiking the leg of his slacks up and seeing the dinosaur-printed socks you got him for his birthday. No one's looking beneath his undershirt, finding the marks you left on his collarbone, and further down, all that wide expanse of him, his ribs, his hips. 

He doesn't say it, because he doesn't have to, but he loves you.

[cre8tivereviews]

Wilder Girls Ch. 4

📚📖 I was able to get done with Ch. 4 today.

Below are my thoughts and summarization of the chapter.

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***Spoilers ahead, If you don't want spoilers, please quit reading.***

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Ch. 4

Once outside the fence, the only way to open it is with the big cast iron key around Welch's neck. What if she were to get lost or something. How would the girls get back in?

On the island is a flower called The Raxter Irises. It's petals also darken at the tip when picked. Even before the Tox. Could there be something on this island that caused the Tox? Again, is the main land even infected? Are they being lied to? Or am I just reading into things?

While they're out, Hetty mentions the shakes of the earth again. She mentioned on the roof in ch. 1 or 2. They do end up running into a black bear while out. I don't know if he would cause the earth to shake like she describes or could feel from the roof.

On her first Boat Shift, Hetty hears the boat before she sees it. Thre is only gray past a certain part of the ocean. Then, all of a sudden, out of the gray comes the boat. Once close, they use a crane to drop the pallets on the boat deck (forgot that they actually called it. The deck protruded out to the ocean. For boats to dock, and let people off.)

Once the boat gives the all clear; they don't want any interaction between the boat and island, they can grab what they dropped off.

Hetty sees on the pallet that there is far more stuff than the 6 bags they usually bring back. Hetty is excited until she learns, this is how much they always get. Enough to feed everyone for a week. Welch says some of it isn't good. It has pesticides that aren't good for the girl's already compromised systems. Is Welch lying? Is the food really good?

Hetty seems to hesitate as if she wants to say something, and Welch says she needs to keep the pallets to herself. If not, Welch threatens to take care of things as she reaches for her revolver, saying if you can't keep a secret. Why would Welch kill a student over this? Obviously, something is wrong here. Why really can't they use the food? Is Welch going crazy? We find out that Welch also hasn't told the headmistress about the extra food as well.

The food they don't use, they throw over the cliff. Welch says this is because if the Navy saw they left anything, they wouldn't bring as much the next time. It's such a waste. They only use original sealing and sealed food. Nothing that has been opened and put in another package. Is Welch paranoid, or is there really a good reason for this?

On the way back from the dock, they hear something and split up. Welch and Hetty come across a bobcat. Hetty says they used to be small and scare off easily. Now, this one's shoulders are up to her waist.

The bobcat has the Tox. "Dried blood crusting where its skin has fallen away in patches. Sores bubbling along the inside of its front legs. Bile stained the white fur on its neck." pg 74. So the Tox affects animals too.

While Hetty is running from the bobcat, she finds a place to hide. As she goes to make a spot to sit on. She finds a cooler in the ground covered by foliage. Thinking it's old as it's covered in grime and looks like it's been there a while. But when she opens it, she finds it clean. Inside is a bag closed with red tape. Inside the bag is a vial of blood, labeled "Potential Rax009" in a handwriting she almost knows. Did Byatt take it there? that'd be too easy to see coming. Are people being experimented on? Used for a cure? Again, is the mainland really infected? Could Raxter be a test site?

Once back inside, Hetty seems to be tired, so the headmistress tells her to go lay down. I wonder if the headmistress suspects something up. She seems to be there when Boat Shift comes back. She tells Hetty to go to sleep, and Byatt takes her.

**original art is not mine**

[brendathedoodler]

May I ask a bit about AS!Legend? His adventure involved multiple dimensions, right? Can I ask what that's all about? Loving your AU! It's so fun to think "hm, how would this Link do in this Hyrule?" Thanks!

I wanna preface this by saying I haven’t played Twilight Princess yet, so I’m gonna avoid the specifics of the plot and focus more on just the general idea for the changes, and specifically how Legend is impacted.

So, essentially Zant’s attempt to take over the Twili realm ended up putting other dimensions in danger as well, something that wasn’t his problem. Legend had to go through a variety of other worlds in order to prevent them from being impacted, harmed, or outright destroyed by Zant’s meddling. He traversed several worlds, but there are three main ones that he got specific transformations for. (These worlds are added as a way to kinda mix how many adventures LU Legend goes on with the singular adventure he takes on here, if that makes sense)

(Continued under the cut)

A big theme in Legend’s adventures is that he never has an advantage. All of his forms are smaller, weaker, and not well equipped for fighting. He’s become a cautious fighter, but a master of evasion. He learned how to run, hide, and escape. It’s better to run and live to fight another day (a mindset he shares with Warriors).

The first main realm is the Twili realm, where he got a bunny form (which is activated by a necklace he wears, hidden under his tunic). In this realm he also met Ravio, a twili cursed to be an imp by Zant for getting in his way. Both of them are small and weak, and so they have to avoid, sneak, and evade enemies to try and get the upper hand. Early in his adventure Legend, being a courageous warrior to the core, often tried to fight his opponents head on. It was usually Ravio who suffered for his impulsivity, and he learned quickly how to evade just to ensure Ravio wouldn’t get hurt.

Legend can’t deny that he caught feelings for the imp that followed him through the journey. It’s why it hurt so much when he had to leave. The Twili realm was saved, but the portals snatched Legend away before he could even say goodbye. He’d never see Ravio again.

The second main world is the oceanic realm, where Legend got a mermaid form (which he uses an anklet to transform into). These mermaids are large, with sharp teeth and claws. Legend is small, clawless, and has dull teeth that could never hope to pierce flesh. This transformation didn’t affect his body visibly, but it had many effects on him that aren’t so obvious. These mermaids are incapable of making the vocal noises of any Hylian, but Legend’s transformation allowed him to make the melodic notes and sharp clicks that make up their language. He can also breathe underwater (but it’s much easier in his mermaid form), and his skin dries out very easily (he has to put on lotion every night and his lips are permanently chapped no matter what he does).

Other than just the transformation effects, Legend also met Marin there. She saw this weird squishy little guy and wanted to help him. She taught him her language and all sorts of things to help him save her world from destruction. At the end of it all, their parting words lasted a little too long, and the final portal that would send Legend home ended up taking Marin with him. She’d never see her home again. Legend tries his best to make his own home work for her, and when he was whisked away on a time travel adventure he’d just finished cleaning his house in preparation of modifying it for her to live more comfortably with him.

The final world he’d visited is the mural realm, where Legend got a 2D painting form (which he can turn into with a bracelet on his wrist). The 2D world was cruel at best. He’s a 3D being that was never meant to function in a world like this. Learning to even walk was difficult, and when fighting there he’s always at a disadvantage because he’s not properly equipped for it. He avoids using his painting form, since it poses the same sort of problems that he faced in the 2D world.

He didn’t meet anyone in particular here, but this is the world where he suffered his greatest injury. In this world of paint, a great weapon from another world was located. An eraser. Legend, being from the 3D world, was not intimidated by a simple eraser. That mistake cost him his hand, but he managed to draw it back later. Unfortunately, his drawing skills are… Subpar at best. His crappy stick hand worked, but when he left the 2D world his hand was instead replaced with something akin to a stalfos.

Legend doesn’t think he’s Hylian anymore. He can make sounds they never could, his hair now grows pink, and his hand has been replaced with magic bone. As much as he enjoys dropping hints and leaving the other members of the chain to guess what he means, he does feel a bit of shame at what he’s become. He was Hylian once, but he can never go back to that.

Learning Twilight can turn into a wolf helped with that somewhat, though admittedly the reveal moment between the two of them was pretty comedic. Twilight transformed from wolf to Hylian, only to turn around and make eye contact with mermaid Legend in the water nearby.

What wasn’t comedic was the reveal of Legend’s hand. He always keeps it hidden under a glove, no matter what. On the bright side, magical bones heal much easier than normal ones, and he’s become accustomed to using his hand to block things he would never do with his flesh hand. If he had to choose between a sword to his skeletal hand or his face, he’d pick his hand in a heartbeat.

The point is, his hand gets badly injured, and he’s forced to reveal it. He argues about it, extra defensive thanks to the pain he’s in, but it’s a fight he won’t win, because nobody is going to let him go with an untreated injury. Two potions and a healing song from Hyrule helped, but it’s not completely fixed. Sky convinces him to let him help, if only because Legend knows it a losing fight and he’d rather reveal it only to one person.

Legend doesn’t like to look at his hand. Everything about it looks wrong, even if it feels natural. The glove makes it easy for him to forget that there’s no longer any flesh there, just bone.

Sky doesn’t say anything about it to the others beyond, “I’ve done the best I can to bandage it. This isn’t the sort of injury I know how to treat”. What kind of treatment can he offer to exposed bone like that? His medical training didn’t mention anything like it. Besides, it’s not his secret to tell, and it’s clear with how much Legend fought them over it that he doesn’t want them to know.

So, to summarize: Legend has trauma around portals after what they took from him and the people he cares about, he has three transformations that have impacted his body in various ways (some more visible than others), and he likes to act mysterious about it even though deep down he struggles with the idea that he’s no longer Hylian.

[listwjanka]

Dig Deeper

When I was a young boy, I had a tough time making friends. Mother always said that it's important to have friends, but the other children swerved around me like I was roadkill.

I think they suspected something. Like, children are attuned to the spirit world, it's always in the movies. The kids get possessed by ghosts and demons because they're more sensitive to it, like dogs are. I think they sensed that I have no soul.

As far back as I can remember, it's always been just mother and I. Once or twice I asked about my father and she grounded me. She didn't usually drink alcohol, but she did whenever the topic came up. It's not something she ever talked to me about, like she thought I wouldn't be able to tell that she was drunk during her prayers or that I wouldn't see the bottles. Her big, wet doe eyes would always cloud over when she was drunk, like an unlit room. Maybe she just didn't care if I knew.

We lived in a two bedroom house, slightly off the end of the road. It broke the symmetry of the neighbourhood. Mother said it was because the house was older than the rest of the street, that she'd inherited it from her mother who inherited it from her father and so on.

Once I had a classmate over for a school project - always hated those - and he was a huge bitch about it. He kept asking if it was my grandma's house, complained about the musty smell and how the Holy Marys were all staring at him. It's true, there were a lot of portraits, statuettes, icons and such of Holy Mary around the house, on desks, shelves, walls. If you took a piss on the floor, a stray droplet would inevitably hit some sort of catholic iconography, that's how many there were. That and crosses, rosemaries and books and bibles too old for me to care about. I asked him if there's houses without all this stuff. He looked at me really weird, I can still remember that, and just put his head down to work on his part of the project.

His father was waiting in the parking lot for the entirety of his stay.

While we did have television at home, I couldn't always watch because of mother. Usually I was only able to catch the night program when she was asleep. So most of the time I would be out back in the woods.

The town was like a secluded island surrounded by a wooden ocean. There was a highway that ran straight by, but it didn't make much of a dent in the forest's density. If you had a really bad sense of direction, you could easily get lost there.

I have a lot of memories of that forest.

When I was eight, I caught Mrs. Martens, my PE teacher, having sex with an older student. He was one of those stupid high school meatheads so I didn't think much about it. I don't know how old Ms. Martens was at the time, all adults are really fucking old when you're eight. I knew to hide behind a tree and not draw any attention to myself, so I just stood there unblinking until they were finished.

The same year I found a whole deer skeleton. I don't know how I missed it before, but it laid in perfect serenity on autmun leaves. Its bones were clean-picked and slightly green from moss or lichen that had begun to grow as nature worked to reclaim its due. The hooves though, the hooves still had a ring of that soft, yet firm fur around them.

When my fingers touched that fur, I felt an intense longing, strong enough to etch itself into my brain, a mark fresh even all those years later. To touch something that had long since died, but was still tethered to the world of the living, by the faintest of threads - how death impresses itself upon the living, how it impressed on me, and let me feel something for once. I felt a fire behind my eyes.

I mentioned the deer skeleton at school. I was so enamoured with my find that my bet was, surely the other kids would be too.

Most were grossed out that I'd touched the hooves and even took one home. They started screeching when I showed them that I had it in my pocket.

Others were less squeamish and liked the story and my souvenir, but insisted that I probably put the hooves in my mouth and licked the bones because my family is poor, whatever sense that was to make. When I asked why I would do that, one of the boys stepped forward, knocked on my forehead and asked "Anyone home? How are you this ret***d?"

So I didn't show anybody my skeleton, but the school called my mother to voice their concerns over my behaviour. At home, she made me throw the hoof into the garbage and beat me with a belt until we were both crying.

After that, I stayed away from the forest for a long while and stopped talking to any classmates for good. There was this impassable barrier that everyone felt, but could not break through. Some of my teachers would, every once in a while over the years, gently knock from the other side and talk at me about someone who could help me. When I refused, they would call my mother, who refused treatment much less calmly.

When I was 11, mother began taking me to church more often, until we went nearly every day there was service. I never quite got the hang of it or understood what I was supposed to do or feel and just followed mother's motions. She kept insisting that we were going to save my soul, but I had no idea how repeating the same few dozens of verses every day would heal me from the inside.

There was this part of the service where congregation members were to stand up, go to the front and accept the body of Christ, rather a stale, tasteless waffle. You had to do it in a specific way and I didn't care to learn. I don't know or care if I laid my hands wrong, knelt wrong or said the wrong things, either way, the pastor started whispering to my mother after services.

He would say things like "The boy is simple" or "I believe his soul is gravely ill" and my mother would stand there with white knuckles and tears in her eyes, struggling to speak.

We talked less and less the more services we attended together. When I was 13, she stopped making me go. The other boys were preparing for confirmation.

Now it wasn't just my classmates treating me like a leper - it seemed as though ever since my voice had cracked and my limbs elongated like unfurled colons, adults eyed me with hesitation, their words and movements calculated as though handling a snake.

Mother would lock the door when I came home from school. I wouldn't stay home long anyway and retreat back to my childhood sanctuary: the woods.

I'd always bring a pocket knife to take home any souvenirs, any gifts that Nature would give to keep me company. The deer skeleton was long rotten away, but plenty of other friends took its place.

At age 14 around spring, I found a small pond full of frog spawn. The frogs themselves had long left their offspring to fend for themselves. The spawn felt good in my hands and I started crushing the eggs like bubble wrap.

If anyone asked me why, I wouldn't know how to answer. It just happened. Every pop made my bloodflow more audible to my ears. For the first time in years, I could feel the strength in my fingers, the pressure in my eyeballs, the heat of my guts. I wondered how much life was in those tiny gooey balls. Whether my squeezing the wet contents out of them let me absorb their energy. Whether those still-developing creatures felt anything at all. Would they feel anything later? How much sentience could I ascribe to the goop in my hands?

That summer I went to hunt frogs. I saw and understood that they ran away from me, perceiving me as a considerable threat - much like the humans in my life. But they weren't strong enough to fight back and were easily skewered by my pocket knife.

Frogs have such big, lively eyes. People would sometimes tell me my eyes were lifeless and dull. In movies, people would say "There's no life behind his eyes." when describing bad guys or demonic possessions. Maybe, I thought, maybe. Maybe if I dug a little, I could find their souls.

Mother always spoke of souls, so matter-of-factly that it did not cross my mind to doubt her. Until I knew better, I figured souls were much like the other organs - and that they must be quite small, because I never found them in the biology books at the school library.

A frog is much larger than a tadpole or an embryo, I figured, so their soul should be visible somehow. Perhaps it would be small and hard like a seed. Maybe it was more all-encompassing, but very thin like a stretched patch of skin on the inside.

I remembered those frog dissection classes from movies and improvised my own. Its guts weren't nearly as colourful as textbook illustrations had me assume. There were some orange cords nestled in its insides by the leg, an olive-green organ reminiscent of a pinecone seed and what I assume was punctured lungs. The sight made me think of strange european dishes that I saw on the TV sometimes.

Since the body was too tattered to tell much from its shredded insides, I spent the rest of the afternoon hunting for frogs - but I would not find salvation in their tiny corded guts that day. There was no shining pearl, no glowing patch, no tiny seed out of place. Try how I might, I did no find their souls.

The next day, however, something unusual happened: At school, my teachers would comment on my "rosier complexion", how there was a spring in my step, a light in my eyes. I was taken aback - indeed, I was in a much better mood than usual after yesterday's efforts.

After what happened with the deer skeleton, I chose my words more carefully to avoid trouble and said, yes, I had a lot of fun working with my hands yesterday. I said I'd been woodcarving.

The teachers seemed pleased with my inexplicable shift in demeanour. Their words rolled around in my head like lost marbles - there was no space for pleasantries in my insides. No suitable place to stow away marbles behind lightless eyeballs.

I began thinking. Maybe, a frog's soul is fluid? Or maybe it's microscopically small and absorbed into my skin through the fingertips while I was carefully pulling muscle from bone in my search. Maybe, I'd made their life, mine.

It was an invigorating thought. I looked around me and noticed hair fractures developing in the barrier that had barred me from the others for all these years. Maybe I had to work hard, much, much harder than others had to, to break through.

I did take up wood carving. My first attempts weren't good. Then I took one of the myriad of crosses from our house and started mimicking its grooves and cuts, however crudely. I left the finished cross and the emaciated, wooden Jesus nailed to it wrapped in linen for my mother to find.

When she did find it that evening, instead of bolting right away into her bedroom, she sat still at the kitchen table, holding the gift so delicately as if it were a premature stillborn, sobbing quietly. I knelt next to her and she gently ran her fingers through my hair. Her big, wet eyes didn't dare meet mine.

Still, I didn't give up on finding the soul, but I started searching larger animals. I was on to something. The fractures in my barrier were nearly thick enough to break it and I could nearly taste the crisp air of the outside world.

When I couldn't find it in a rat, I searched through a bunny.

When I didn't find it in a bunny, I dug through a cat.

When the cat's body bore no fruit, I set eyes on Prometheus.

Prometheus was a large, black mutt, some sort of sheepdog with big, sharp eyes. He was smarter than his two trash owners combined, so luring him was no easy task. Fortunately for me, he'd also just barely stopped being a puppy and wasn't quite as serious as his older peers.

If any animal in the vicinity had a soul that could be seen with one's bare eyes, it was Prometheus.

I'm sure he was a fighter, a brave boy, but anyone struck with a hardwood plank to the head wouldn't have much time to recover from the impact. He didn't have the chance to make much noise. The woods were silent that night.

Sometimes, I do wish he'd managed to run away - and I don't want to go into any more details out of respect - but as my gloved hands carefully mapped out Prometheus' viscera, his sacrifice was well worth it.

Right there, on his left kidney, was a splendidly white growth, the likes of which I'd never seen in the schoolbooks. In the beam of my flashlight, it seemed to still be alive, to pulsate. It was the size of a rosemary pearl, firm to the touch and still warm, exuding a mist in the cool night air.

Prometheus' soul.

Awestruck, I reverently cut out the kidney and carefully placed it in a ziploc bag. Weeping in total silence, I stared into the great dome of stars above and felt how each and every twinkling light above was the eyes of God looking at me with great love and benevolence. I searched and found. A bloodied lamb, its wool now washed by God's gentle hands, held in a warm carress. You did it. I'm so, so proud of you.

As luck would have it, when Prometheus was found, it seemed that some woodland animals had gotten to him. The hunter said his innards were fully consumed by the time he found the dog and the soft belly flesh torn and gnawed on. God was looking out for me that night, I knew it.

Our school had a Thanksgiving festival that year and I carved wolf and dog figurines out of wood for the occassion. Surprisingly, they sold very well and were well-received. Mother's parish seemed especially taken with my effort - or rather, me. I was ecstatic about my findings and radiated religious enthusiasm. I listened ravenously to their retellings of biblical tales of men who braved great despair and made great sacrifices, only to emerge holy in the eyes of God. I saw myself in those men and could not help but choke up with them over God's boundless grace. For once, mother's eyes weren't so sad but betrayed a great happiness in their hazel warmth and radiance.

I felt connected.

Then Mrs. Martens came over.

She hadn't been my PE teacher in seven years and I had not paid any attention to her in just as long. Her auburn locks were now slightly streaked with silver and she wore a smile that didn't quite reach the rest of her thin face. She said my name as if it were a spell.

"We're so happy to see you getting on with our flock now, dear. Your mother's always been so worried about you, but turns out you're just an artist!"

She leaned in closer. Too close.

"I won't fuck you, Mrs. Martens."

The crowd around the stand fell dead silent. The only sound was the rush of blood in my skull.

I'd never seen someone turn so sickly pale so quickly. The white of her bulging, veiny eyeballs reminded me of the surface of Prometheus' soul.

She started staggering and stammering about how she didn't understand and didn't know what I was talking about. So I explained how seven years ago, she had a student raw her against an oak tree. How she yowled like an alley cat as a boy half her age fucked her from behind and how she sardonically implored him to stay quiet afterwards. How I thought it was disgusting and how I didn't want her near me, lest she touch me like she did with him.

There was a great chaos afterwards and a lot of it is a blur to me. I remember mother grabbing me ere anyone else could, dragged me home and barricaded the door with a musty sofa. We'd never run so fast and I'd never heard her scream like this before.

She screeched about baseless accusations and embarrassment and how she could never show her face outside again. I was deeply confused - wasn't it proper to be honest? Didn't Mrs. Mathers defy God by forsaking her husband, shouldn't her sinfulness be known?

Mother was frothing at her thin-lipped mouth, her skin red and blotchy from the blood pressure building just behind her skin.

"You RE*****D! You GODLESS FREAK! STOP PUTTING HIS NAME IN YOUR MOUTH! YOU'VE RUINED ME! RUINED MY LIFE!"

It hurt. She was very wrong, but it still hurt. I explained how God favoured me. How I found Prometheus' soul in his guts after believing and searching for so long!

Mother stared at me with an ineffale fire behind her eyes, an intensity defying that of anyone I'd ever seen: "You blithering moron; animals don't have souls."

She had to be wrong. Her words split my insides. Was that true? What was I missing? I'd found his soul, right? It was a soul, right? Could I actually make sure? Was I sure? Are you sure?

In those torturous moments, I begged God for guidance - and He answered me with mother's burning stare. Her big, soulful eyes, coals burning in sockets.

I understood that I needed to search once more.

The pocket knife wouldn't cut it this time.

[phoenix-downer]

Souvenir Sweets

~850 words. As Roxas and Naminé look for clues about how to bring Sora home, they buy some sweet souvenirs for everyone. Naminé POV. Romance, Fluff, Sweets, Souvenirs. Happy RokuNami Day!

Quadratum Station had to be the most crowded place Naminé had ever seen. There were people everywhere, and if you stopped walking for a moment you became a human obstacle, a pebble in the endless stream of humans diverting the flow of people moving around you. Brightly color-coded signs for each train line were on the floor, on the walls, on the pillars, and yet she still felt so lost. Everyone else seemed to know where they were going but her. 

“Naminé,” Roxas called, his familiar voice cutting through the din surrounding them like a life preserver in the ocean of people. She relaxed and turned around. He had his bag slung over his shoulder, and his hood was over his blond spikes in a pointless attempt to hide them. The fashion here was very different from Twilight Town or Destiny Islands—very loose and baggy, but of course Roxas could make anything look good. 

“Did you get the tickets?” she asked, and he nodded and handed her hers. It was printed on seafoam green paper, the markings indicating their destination was a different city. They were going on a short, weekend-long intel-gathering mission about this reality to figure out how to get Sora home. The rest of them could go home anytime…but getting Sora back, given the whole “he broke a nature taboo” thing in order to save their lives, was proving to be tricky. 

“We’ll have to go through a special set of gates over there,” Roxas said, nodding towards them.

“I’ve heard the…what were they called, bullet trains? Run really smoothly,” Naminé said as they wove their way towards the gates, holding hands because otherwise the crowds would easily separate them. The technology here was miles above just about every world she’d ever been to except for San Fransokyo.

“Same, yeah. Guess we’ll see if the rumors are true.”

As they got closer to the special gates, Naminé’s eyes landed on a stand nearby with lots and lots of yellow in its advertising. QUADRATUM BANANA was written at the top of the stand in big, bold, letters next to images of little cakes in the shape of bananas. On display were boxes after boxes of the little banana cakes in a variety of flavors, and there were even a few boxes of something called THE STRAWBERRY CAKE from GINZA. They were cream-colored cakes in the shape of strawberries with little pink polka dots, and the packaging was so cute.

Her stomach rumbled a little, and she blushed. They needed to eat something proper for dinner, but the little cakes looked so nice. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to get a couple of boxes of them. They could even share any leftovers with their friends when they got back. Souvenir treats like this were always individually wrapped so you could easily share them with others. 

“Roxas? Can we get some?” she asked. 

“Of course. Let’s get the strawberry ones and then a couple boxes of the banana ones.” He gave her one of those Roxas half-smiles she adored. “My treat.” 

Together they selected two of the most delicious-looking boxes of the bananas and then one box of the strawberries, and Roxas paid by putting several crisp en bills onto the little blue tray next to the cash register. The shopkeeper dutifully took the munny and counted it, then placed Roxas’s change on the blue tray. They both thanked her for their goodies and continued on through the bullet train gates. 

“Thank you, Roxas,” Naminé said, clutching their prizes to her chest. “They just looked so cute. I can’t wait to try them.” 

“And then draw them too, right?” he teased as they located signs for their platform and stepped onto the escalator leading up to it. 

“You know me too well. I have to document everything about this reality.” 

“Does drawing me eating them count?” he joked.

She giggled and flipped through her sketchbook. “I think most of my drawings are of you as it is…”

“Well,” he said, very seriously, “you need to document me eating every train station bento box we can get our hands on. Speaking of which, what would be your pleasure?” he asked as they stepped off the escalator. On the platform was a little shop with bento boxes, snacks, drinks, and other treats.

“Let’s take a look.” 

When Sora had disappeared, they’d never imagined their journey to find him would lead to this place. A completely different reality, and yet the people really weren’t so different. They were living their lives, commuting back and forth to work and school, buying bento boxes for train rides, picking up QUADRATUM BANANA and THE GINZA STRAWBERRY souvenirs for friends and family and coworkers back home. It was comforting in a way that despite being so far from home and thrown into a completely different culture, people were still just…people.

As they boarded the bullet train and found their seats, bento boxes and souvenir sweets in tow, Naminé smiled at Roxas and he returned the smile. They were on another adventure together, and despite the circumstances, she knew they’d make the most of it.

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A/N: For anyone curious about what Tokyo Banana sweets look like, and ditto for The Strawberry Cake from Ginza. 

Happy RokuNami Day everyone, and thank you for reading ❤️ 

[easypeasylindyvesey]

APRIL 2027- PART 20

I’m standing on the grounds where everyone has gathered to unite together and share their grief. Looking around, it seems as if everyone from the funeral is present. Some decided to be smart and hide their sadness behind dark sunglasses. Others stand quietly, observing the scene of where other lives have been put to rest. Little do they know there’ll be two gone by the end of this.

The funeral home directors and other employees are carrying Ryan’s casket over to where he’s going to be buried. I look down past my feet and observe the hole that he’ll be sitting in for the rest of his life. He won’t be able to move, let alone breathe. He’s confined to this large box with nothing in it. The only thing that will physically be above him is an infinite amount of dirt that could easily be compared to quicksand. It’ll eat him alive. He won’t be able to escape. He won’t be able to dig himself out. He’ll inhale more of it than rather exhale air, help him keep afloat and survive. No one will lend out a helping hand to save him. 

As they lower the casket into the ground, moving slowly yet with confidence in their accuracy, all I can think about is the depth of how far he’s going below the earth. How I’ll never be able to touch him, listen to his laugh or his voice, look forward to his presence in a room, get lost in his ocean eyes, feel like the world cannot hurt me when he’s walking by my side. All of that is gone, and it cannot, and will not, come back. 

“You gonna help me?”

A sudden chill runs over my shoulders. What was that?

“You gonna help me?” The voice repeats again.

I look over both my shoulders before turning around and stopping dead in my tracks. He’s standing right in front of me. He’s wearing the suit he had on during the wake. It looks like he’s real and not a hologram. His eyes are sparkling with the sun hitting his irises just right. He’s got the soft smile that would always turn up when I needed reassurance or when he would choose to act like a tease. He’s not moving any of his limbs. He’s just glued to the ground.

I look up at him. “Ry?” I say quietly.

He gives me that endearing smile. “Hey, honey. You came here to see me?”

I swallow the lump that’s suddenly appeared in my throat. “Uh, yeah. We all came to see you.”

He smirks. “Uh-huh. You having fun?”

I stare at him until my eyes burn. “No, Ry, not at all.”

He pouts. “That’s too bad. I thought you’d find at least one thing to smile about while watching me leave.”

“There is nothing I could smile about,” I say, my eyes starting to water. “Why can’t you just stay?”

“Because I’m dead, honey,” he replies. “I have been for a little bit now. It seems as if you can’t come to terms with it.”

“I can’t.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to,” he says. “That’s apart of the deal.”

I furrow my brows. “What deal?”

“You know, the deal,” Ryan reiterates. “That if this relationship ever ended, whether through a breakup, whether it be mutual, or through this, one has to carry on without the other. You’re going to be just fine.”

“But I don’t want to,” I sniff. I feel the first round of tears escape.

“It’s too late for that. Look, you’re going to miss the big event. Turn around.”

I turn back to the gravesite, only to find the casket open, with Ryan lying down in it.

“Where are you going?” I choke out.

“I told you, Abby,” he says. “I’m going away.”

“But I’m not ready yet! Stop moving him! Stop moving him!” I yell at the funeral employees. They don’t hear me. That’s because they can’t.

“Say what you need to say, babe,” Ryan fires out. “Say it now or forever hold it against yourself.”

I panic, looking around at everyone else. They’re not moving either. It’s as if they’re all frozen. Because they are.

“Did you love me?” I yell out with my cracked voice. “Like really love me? Even though we never got to that point?”

“Oh, honey, you know I did,” he says with his endearing tone. “Of course I did. You were the best thing that ever happened to me. Never did I ever think there was a better person out there. You were my everything. You knew that.”

“I did,” I sniff again. “I love you, Ryan.”

His mouth forms into a frown. “Oh, Abby,” he says with a mix of sarcasm and sympathy. “You’re long overdue. It doesn’t mean anything now.”

“No,” I choke out, already losing control of my emotions. “No, it’s not. I still have time. You’re still here.”

The casket lowers halfway into the ground, leaning closer to the dirt. “I haven’t been here,” he says. “That’s gotta be a difference maker, right?”

“Stop that.”

“Stop what? You know it’s true. You don’t have me attached at the hip. But damn, you always made it so easy. Being with you was so easy. God, it was fresh air. It felt like the waves of the ocean, the early morning chirping of the birds, the first cup of coffee, a song you haven’t heard in awhile coming on the radio. You made me feel like I was worth your time, and your effort, and your energy. You were mine.”

The waterworks turn into a torrential downpour below my eyes. “You’re always going to be mine,” I sob.

“That’s good to know,” Ryan confirms. The casket moves closer, inches to the ground.

“Is there anything you want to say to me?” I question, voice shaking, eliciting a sad whimper.

“Yeah.”

“What is it?”

“I called you because I wanted to tell you that I love you.”

My entire body starts shaking. The casket hits the ground, with a large thud.

“Damn, that hurt my back,” Ryan jokes. 

“Really? That’s the reason?” I start sobbing uncontrollably.

“What other reason could you think of? Yeah. I couldn’t die without telling you. Guess I did. But hey, now you know, and that’s enough, right?”

“No, Ryan, it’s not. It’s-”

Dirt starts rising from the ground. “I gotta go now!” He yells. “I’ll see you later.”

“No, Ryan, please! No, wait. Someone help!”

The casket snaps closed, with larger amounts of dirt enclosing him in the ground. It reaches all the way to the top, where grass appears, and with a large bang, the headstone solidifying itself in place. All of a sudden, it’s quiet. I listen for Ryan, for any signs of struggle. Screaming, yelling, any indication of life. Only all of that’s gone.

“No! Ryan! Someone help me, please! Someone help me!” I scream.

And then i jolt awake in the bed, breathing raggedly. I sit up, unable to see anything. Now it feels as I’m the one buried in the ground.

“Someone help me!” I scream again. “I can’t, I can’t-”

I feel like my heart is going to beat out of my chest. I’m sweating through my shirt and feel the tear stains on my face. I start rocking back and forth on my knees. I feel as if I can’t move or I’ll fall and won’t get up. 

My mouth is trembling, my teeth chattering as if they’re experiencing cold temperatures. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t do this,” I sob. “Help me! Help me!”

I hear the faint yet fast-paced sound of footsteps racing over to my side, turning on the lamp next to me. The footsteps make their way in front of the bed, where I’m leveled with a pair of brown eyes. They’re a combination of sleepy and startled. “Hey, hey, hey,” the voice says through the chorus of my panicky sobs. “Hey, hey, Abb. Hey. What happened?”

Jimmy.

My breathing remains fast. I feel like I’m going to vomit my heart out of my body. “Help me,” I whisper.

He moves past the bed and into the bathroom. I hear sounds of the sink running and a closet door opening and closing. He races back out, walking over to my right side. “That’s what I’m doing. You’re okay,” he says, pressing a cold compress on my face. “What happened?”

My breathing starts to slow thanks to the distinct change in temperature. The crying, however, does not. “I-I-I want him here,” I wail out. “He-he-he should be here.” I feel my eyes widen as I adjust to my surroundings. I hear Jimmy let out a soft sigh. He moves the compress to my shoulder, his free hand making its way to my back, his fingernails lightly moving up and down to bring myself back into the current headspace.

“I want him here, too,” he admits. He moves the towel to my other shoulder, the last of my sobs making their round.

“I wish I was dead instead of him,” I say hoarsely. “It should’ve been me.”

“Hey,” he replies sternly. “Don’t say that.”

“No, I will,” I say quietly. “If I had went home with him, perhaps it wouldn’t have happened. And if it did, we would’ve been able to go together.”

“I can tell you that nobody would’ve wanted that.”

“Could’ve killed two birds with one stone,” I reply raggedly.

Jimmy gets up and walks over to his side of the room, grabbing his water bottle from the nightstand. He comes back over and unscrews the cap. “Small sips,” he instructs.

“But it’s got your germs on it,” I argue.

“I don’t care. It’s fine,” he explains. “You need to drink something.”

I do as I’m told, taking sip after sip, being careful not to crush the plastic with my hand that remains a little shaky. 

“Good,” he commends. “Keep doing that.”

It occurs to me that it’s definitely the middle of the night. “What time is it?”

He lifts up my phone and flips it over. “2:49,” he answers.

“Sorry. I’m so sorry,” I say, another lump in my throat beginning to form. “I know you need to sleep.”

He takes the compress and places it down on my right leg. I feel his fingers provide the tiniest amount of friction, and the hairs on the back of my neck are definitely standing up. He looks at me tiredly. “I don’t care about sleep, Abby. I care that you’re screaming in the middle of the night and that you need help. Do you think you can talk about why you kept saying you needed it?”

His hand remains on top of the compress. I get a quick glance at it before looking at him. “I-I had a dream where I was-I was at Ryan’s burial, and he, like, was a ghost or something. Like, he was watching everyone that showed up and we had a conversation about, like, him telling me it’s too late to tell him I love him, and that he told me to go on without him. And then he got buried alive with the dirt, and he couldn’t breathe, and-” I take another shaky breath. “-and I couldn’t help him.” I feel hot tears stream down my cheeks. “I wanted to help him, Jim. I wanted to help him.”

Jimmy rubs his hand up and down my back. I squirm at the contact, but immediately force myself to settle into it. “I know you would’ve,” he responds. “That must’ve been scary.”

“Why do you think I woke up screaming?” I scoff sarcastically.

“Fair point,” he retorts, causing me to express a tiny bit of a laugh. “But hey, if you need to talk, or if you start finding yourself to spiral into a bad dream or a panic attack, which I would guess this was a combination of the two, you know I’m here. I don’t care if it’s almost 3 in the morning or if we’re out. You need me, I’m here. Got it?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Thanks for the, uh, thanks for the towel.” It’s gone completely cold now, indenting into my leg. Now I feel stuck in an ice box.

“Like I said, I’m always here.” He removes the towel and I feel the aftereffect, that section of my leg adjusting to the non-contact.

“And thanks for the wat-”

“Abb, stop,” he smiles. That soft smile. You know, the one with no teeth? Pair it with the eyes and any woman would be game over. 

“I’m sorry,” I tell him again.

Jimmy sighs loudly, with the intent of sarcasm that it makes me smile, this time with teeth. “You tell me that again or we’ll stay here for one more day.”

“Oh, God, no,” I respond, and he laughs. “Speaking of which, we have to be up at 6. I think we should both get one last round of sleep in.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” he acknowledges. “Do you wanna keep the light on?”

“Uh, yeah,” I look toward him. “It makes everything a little less scary.”

“Okay, then.” He returns back to his bed, crawling under the covers.

“Jim?”

“Yeah, Abb?”

“I’m sorry about what I said before. I didn’t mean it. You are anything but an idiot.”

He puffs out a breath of air. “I mean, I can act like one sometimes, so you weren’t wrong. I know you didn’t mean it. If anything, I should be sorry for saying the thing about grieving for only a month.”

I turn in my bed to face the lamp. “Yeah, I overreacted about that,” I admit. “I should’ve let you talk. You deserve to be listened to without being interrupted. I guess I still haven’t learned that. So, I’m sorry.”

“Wanna call it even again?” he yawns, an indicator that this conversation needs to be wrapped up.

“Fine,” I agree. “Now go get that shut eye that you lost.”

“You know where I am if you need me,” he says sleepily.

“It’d be hard to miss you,” I say, zoning out on the light bulb, staring into it until my eyelids burn from the brightness. I don’t want to shut my eyes because I’m afraid of what I’ll see, but I know that I need to. Just think happy thoughts. Think happy thoughts. Well, my happy thought has become a nightmare.

The next sound I hear is my alarm having the audacity to blare from the opposite side of where I’m sleeping. I open my eyes with the weight of heavy eyelids and being temporarily blinded by the lamp that’s still on. Did I not turn it off? Huh, I guess I really did choose to let my eyes burn.

Begrudgingly, I roll over to find my phone and turn off the alarm. I rub my eyes and keep my hands covering them, letting out a purposefully loud groan.

“Me too,” says the voice from across the room.

“Fuck,” I breathe. “It’s too early.”

I hear shuffling from that same side of the room. I move my eyes down to see Jimmy already out of bed, his shirt all wrinkled and his hair up in spikes. He really exemplifies having bed-head hair, if that’s even a thing. I think he’s walking to the bathroom, but he ends up pivoting over to my bed, sitting down next to me. “How’d you sleep?” he asks.

I shrug my shoulders. “Fine, I guess. But hey, I didn’t wake up screaming again.”

He gives me that little sly smile on his face. “Baby steps,” he assures.

“This is anything but baby steps, coming from the baby himself,” I joke.

He playfully rolls his eyes. “Yeah, maybe just forget I said that.” A yawn makes its way across his face. “I’m gonna get ready. We have to leave at 6:30.”

“I know, I know. It just doesn’t feel like it’s over yet, like there’s something I’m forgetting, or something I haven’t seen yet.”

“Like what?” Jimmy raises an eyebrow.

I reply with a shoulder shrug. “I have no clue.” I sit up to get a better angle of looking at him. “You were right, about me rushing this experience so that I don’t have to relive it. I mean, I obviously never want to go through this type of pain ever again, but I haven’t really took the time to fully absorb what was happening. I zoned out before the wake and during the funeral, which made me realize that I was doing it on purpose. I didn’t want to remember these things, let alone the memories that would accompany them. But then it got me wondering that I showed up to both for the purpose of proving how much he meant to me and that I’d only have one last chance to give myself that opportunity. That’s when I shoved my feelings down and made room for everyone else’s, because in that moment, it’s not about how I feel, per se. I’m not the only one who lost him; his family, his closest friends, the team, you. I don’t know. I guess I just feel selfish for failing to see that a lot of other people were upset and grieving too, and they obviously still are, but just not up to the level that I thought. It all seemed they were pushing it down too.”

“If it helps, his family said that they were very proud of you for keeping yourself together during both services,” Jimmy replies. “They didn’t try to call you out on the stuttering or pausing or anything like that. Bob and Jen thought you did a really great job. You stood your ground, and you said what was needed. Is there a chance that you regret speaking now?”

Oh, I see what he’s trying to do. That fucker. 

“Not one bit,” I say. That’s when I crawl out of bed and walk over to my closet, grabbing a sweatshirt and leggings. “I love how you said we had to leave at 6:30, and now this conversation’s added an extra 10 minutes. And since you made the choice to sit down, I call bathroom. Get your ass up and go pack, otherwise I’ll be telling the Uber driver that you’re the reason for their crappy mood. Oh, shit. Can you order the Uber?”

Jimmy gets up from my bed and walks over to his side of the room, unlocking his phone that’s sitting on the nightstand. “Already on it.”

I walk to the bathroom and shut the door. I take off my pajamas and change, engaging in the task of brushing my hair and washing my face. The girl I saw in the mirror yesterday still looks the same, but perhaps a tiny bit more recognizable. I try to show up for myself and attempt a closed lip smile, but it comes out as more of a lopsided frown. I’m definitely not going to start fixing this now. Not in another state.

I exit the bathroom and grab my suitcase, placing it on the end of my unmade bed. I fold my pajamas and place them in there as tightly as I can, hoping to not break the zipper, because that would just be my luck at the moment. Jimmy’s in the process of finishing packing. He clicks his suitcase shut and speedwalks to the bathroom with a change of clothes in hand. “If Uber sends a text letting me know that our driver’s here, let them know we’ll be down in a few,” he says walking past me, then shutting the bathroom door behind him.

I don’t even get a chance to respond, so I just awkwardly wait over his phone, waiting for the notification to pop up. In the meantime, so that I don’t feel bad for considering myself a stalker, I unzip my suitcase and fetch a pair of socks and put on my sneakers. If we’re gonna be sitting in this car for awhile, you best believe that I would like to be comfortable. As I’m tying my shoe, I hear a ping from across the room. Our driver’s here.

I tiptoe over on the balls of my sneakers to confirm the notification. As I press the home button, I look for the Uber notification, but I can’t find it. However, I find a message.

Lavi: Hey, Jimmy. Thanks for letting me know about Abby. I’m sure she was grateful to have you there while she was experiencing that. It must have been scary. I hope that she’s feeling better as of right now. We’ll see you soon.

What the fuck is this about?

I slowly back away from his phone, making my way back to my bed, sitting on the edge of it, reaching to hold the handle of my suitcase. My hand clenches. He told him, didn’t he? 

That’s not his business. I thought it would be something that stayed just between us. I guess not.

I choose not to entertain the thought right now. It’s only gonna make us end up where we were last night. It’s definitely not a fun place to be: stuck with one person that you end up having a fight with and can’t really find a means of escape. You’re somewhat restricted from going anywhere, especially when they’re glued to your hip every second of every day.

Jimmy leaves the bathroom and walks over to his nightstand. I see him push the home button on his phone, frozen as he reads the message. He retreats back to lift the suitcase on his bed. “Uber’s here,” he says. “You got everything?”

No.

I stand up and grab my suitcase in one hand and my phone in the other. “Yep,” I reply, without even looking at him. I march my way to the door, turning the handle to open it and walking down the hall to the elevator. I hear the door shut as I press the button for the first floor. He speedwalks toward me, suitcase in tow. “You alright?” he questions.

“Uh, why wouldn’t I be alright?” I argue back.

“Because you literally flew right on outta there. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

The elevator opens and we both walk inside as I press the first floor button again. “There’s nothing to tell,” I reply with defeat, watching the doors close.

I don’t even receive a response from him as we stand in silence, watching the elevator go down floor by floor. It’s way too early to be dealing with this shit. I’ll talk to him about it later. That’s even if I remember. Oh, who am I kidding? Of course I will.

[theminiartblog]

Ballpoint pen forrrrrr Luck and Bounty crew?

🖊️ BALLPOINT PEN — does your oc have any tattoos? do they want any (more) tattoos?

OKAY, so-- Luck and Bounty Crew will include my personal Big Three gods, as well as participants from unreleased book 2:

Bulan does not have a tattoo, he doesn't see the appeal on him. He's a simple boy when all things are said and done.

Serafina surprisingly doesn't have any either, can't waste money on it at the current point in her life--But she thinks about it! Notably, she'd probably get family names on her. Drawing from her newfound abilities, perhaps vines and flowers. Or if something simple, wings on her back to fit with her name.

Chuy in the future definitely would get a tattoo, but he'd want to make sure it's cool so he'd take his time to choose. He's got a lotta people to impress. He'd put it on his lower back tho, like a tramp stamp dfghj

Torrent, god of waves, very much has a tattoo, we've all seen it, a sleeve of the ocean!

Twinkle, god of the heavens, also has one! [beware, old art] The phases of the moon, going from shoulder to shoulder and across his neck, but we barely get to see it because of his clothing choices.

Terra, goddess of land, is the only one of the Big Three who does not have a tattoo, but she's got a big scar across her face that she flaunts just as proudly.

Quash, would not get a tattoo, though he'd entertain the thought. He likes his skin pretty and flawless--not to say that a tattoo is a flaw (plus he has a mole or two), but he can accessorize and change things around, a tattoo is too permanent! He could be influenced by his bestie, but it still would have to be somewhere he could easily hide it.

Chance, in the future, would get a tattoo of the word Serendipity on her upper back/neck area, or shoulder. For reasons~! It would have to be somewhere that wouldn't interfere with her career, cause there's no way she's putting makeup or bandages on it every day.

[bigg-city-riders-au]

Wait ok so like I was just thinking… idk if you take one shots or anything. But imagine how scary star tugs could be when they HUNGRY. Like imagine being a worker trying to get out of port and you gotta figure out how avoid ALL the tugs 😨

Sure thing! This was a blast writing this! Tw for violence and some blood. One-shot under the cut.

You're making you way out of the port, trying to find your way by weaving through the maze of buildings late at night with nothing but your flashlight. The night air is cold, and harsh. It's wintertime here, and the tugs are showing signs of restlessness. They're getting hungry and desperate. They might not have eaten enough to last through the winter, so they're likely desperate for anything they can snatch. Even the Star Tugs seem to be becoming more aggressive. Not a good sign. That means you'll have to avoid not just the Zed-Stacks, but the Star Tugs as well.

You know you have to get close to the water to find your way out of the port. That's where most of the lights are. Lights had been put in place after the curse was cast to keep the Zed-Stacks at bay, but it seems the lights won't help much considering how desperate they seem to be. With luck, they might be far away from you when you're close to the water. You take your chances, and cautiously make your way towards the ocean waters.

You whip around as you hear something disturbing the water behind you, only to see nothing. You may not be alone here. You whip around again as you hear a deep guttural growl at the other side of you. Maybe your luck has ran out tonight. You immediately take off running as your pursuers give chase. You hear a feral snarl as you hear the wooden docks crunch from the sheer power from something much bigger than you. You then know just who was pursuing you, two tugs.

You weave between the buildings, causing one of the tugs to curse at losing you. You recognized that voice from anywhere. Ten Cents was one of your pursuers. You hide behind a building and wait to see who else is pursuing you. You spot the smallest Star Switcher, Sunshine searching for you. His forked tongue slithers from his lips and flicks, as if he's tasting the air, seeing if he can detect you. You're a bit close to him, within reach of him. You don't want to wander farther from home and possibly put yourself in more danger. You'd rather be close to the Star Docks than to be near the Zero Docks. Now that would have been a death sentence.

You take your chances and dart out from your hiding place. Sunshine whips and hisses. He tries to snatch you, only for him to barely miss you. You can feel the wind from his claws just barely missing you. You shake it off and keep running, not daring to look behind you to see if they're still chasing you. It was a few minutes before the port once again grew quiet. You stop and rest for a few moments. You know you can't run all the way home.

After a few moments, you dare to peek around the corner, only to see nothing. It's quiet.. too quiet. You cautiously make your way out from your hiding spot, looking around as you get ready to run again. You hear the water being disturbed in the distance. You know the sound of you running will draw the tug or tugs closer to you. You have to go slow to prevent getting the tug's attention. You keep glancing out in the distance, the port is almost pitch black. You're on high alert, keeping your breathing as quiet as possible. You know the tugs have a sharp sense of hearing, and can easily track you down just by the sound of your breathing if you're not careful.

You hear the movement closer this time.. much closer this time. It's a much bigger tug by the sound of it. This one might be the reason Ten Cents and Sunshine stopped pursuing you so suddenly, meaning this one was not to be messed with, so it wasn't OJ or Hercules. You haven't seen Big Mac and Warrior at all. You listen closely, seeing if you can figure out exactly where the tug is. Without warning, an anchor-like claw slams down next to you as the tug emerges from the darkness. It was Big Mac no doubt. His eyes have a ravenous and blood-thirsty glint in them as he towers over you. He bares his fangs as venom oozes from them and corrodes the concrete beneath your feet. You immediately take off running when you hear another growl not too far from you, just on the other side of you.

Big Mac suddenly stops, glaring towards the darkness. You feel the air become tense as you see an anchor-like claw gently land beside you, as if block Big Mac from reaching you. You look up to see Warrior, who is glaring daggers at Big Mac. Big Mac looks at you, seemingly tempted, but not wanting to risk injury fighting against his brother. Big Mac's tow line lashes to and fro in agitation as Warrior snarls, baring his fangs as he flexes his other claw, as if to threaten to attack if Big Mac ever thought about trying to reach for you.

Big Mac glances between you and his brother a few times before he reluctantly backs down, retreating. You look up at Warrior in shock as he looks down at you in relief, relieved he didn't have to fight his brother. He carefully reaches for you and fear takes the wheel and you book it. You can't trust Warrior either. It could be a stunt to gain your trust.

You run as fast and far as you can. You have to slow to a stop or collapse after a while of running. You have to sit and rest after running so far and fast. You're breathing heavily and shaking from both exhaustion and fear. You freeze as you hear you a deep guttural growl from the darkness once more. Except this time, you can't pinpoint exactly where the sound is coming from. It sounds like it's all around you. You look around wildly as you try and figure out where the sound is coming from. You immediately spring up as another anchor-like claw reaches for you from the darkness. You take off running, slower this time. You hope the tug will decide you're not worth the energy.

Judging by the sound, which is surprisingly soft, you can tell who it is easily. OJ, or Old Jones as he's known to be. You know he's slower than some of the others, but that doesn't make him any less dangerous than the others. Seems he's figured out how to be silent when stalking prey. You're not a bit surprised honestly. He's always been one to find ways around different problems.

You can see the port start to open up as you get closer to home. You're almost in the clear. You push yourself for the last leg of your run. You can make it. Just a little bit further and you'll be home safe. Your hopes are quickly dashed as you feel the anchor-like claws of a tug wrap around your middle and lift you up high off the ground.

You scream and kick as an attempt to break free of the strong grip of the tug. The tug lifts you up to his eye level, and you squint to see exactly who it is. Top Hat looks you up and down, head raised as he growls softly deep in his chest like a cat. You look into his eyes as he bares his massive fangs. You're looking death right in the face. Top Hat opens his jaws as venom pours from him fangs, ready to give the killing bite.

Suddenly, within the blink of an eye another tug delivers a powerful blow to the side of Top Hat's face, the sharp claws creating deep wounds on his cheek. Top Hat screeches and immediately drops you. You scream as you plummet, landing on his deck with a thud. The impact knocks the wind out of you as you gasp for air. Top Hat whips around to face his attacker, none other than Warrior. Seems he's truly trying to help you get away from his fellow fleetmates.

To Hat snarls as he delivers a blow in return. Warrior roars in pain before snapping his powerful jaws at Top Hat's anchor-like claws, barely missing by mere centimeters. Top Hat winced a bit at the sound but he too lets out a roar, as if to challenge Warrior.

Warrior narrows his eyes and smoke billows from his smoke stack, as if to snort like a dragon. Warrior looks Top Hat up and down as if he's thinking of something. He doesn't want you to get hurt in the crossfire, but knows he Top Hat won't give you up so easily. Warrior back away a bit, seemingly retreating. Top Hat smiles a wolfish and triumphant grin. His fangs glisten in the moonlight. Seems he's won and your heart sinks. You give Warrior a pleading look. Little do you know what Warrior has planned.

Top Hat reaches for you and you brace, expecting the worst. Warrior then charges at full speed, ramming into Top Hat's side, making the railway tug hit the docks, hard, and pining him against the concrete. Top Hat's screech is cut short as the breath is knocked out of him. He gasps for breath and almost tries to reach you one more time, only for Warrior to snatch you instead. Warrior snarls as he snaps his jaws at the railway tug, making Top Hat flinch a little.

Warrior growls softly and carefully looks you over for wounds, chuffing softly. He looks at Top Hat before moves further away from him, deeper into the port. Warrior gently places you on his bow. He purrs softly as you immediately run and cling to him. You tremble as you take some time to regain your strength. You sigh in relief.

Warrior freezes as he hears something, and sniffs the air. He quickly grows pale. Hercules slinks from the darkness, a bit of a ways away, but still too close for comfort. Hercules sniffs the air. Seems he hasn't spotted you yet. Warrior is quick to gently pick you up with his anchor-like claws and place you under his hat to mask you scent. He makes a decision right then and there that he needs to keep you safe for the night.

Warrior slinks deep into the port, away from the other tugs before he stops and lifts his hat and gently grabs you with anchor-like claws. He lowers you to his eye level and gives a kind smile, careful to hide his fangs.

"I hope you don't mind me keeping you safe for the night. I don't think you'll be able to make it back home in one piece." Warrior keeps his voice at a low and gentle volume and tone. You think for a moment and nod. Sure you won't make it home tonight, but you'd rather be safe than to risk being snatched by another tug that doesn't have such friendly intentions.

Warrior holds you close for a moment before he gently places you under his hat. "Don't worry about breakfast either when you get up in the morning. I'll make sure you're fed and everything. Just relax, and get some sleep. I'll protect you, I promise.."

And with that, you slowly fall asleep to Warrior's soft purring, knowing you're perfectly safe and sound.. Perhaps you've even found a new friend too.

[kylo-wrecked]

Ben's face, still somewhat flushed, falls a little. Beth's veil only hides the features of what he's already heard in her voice long before she's thought to bury them. The tremor in her hushed admission tells him everything he needs to know.

He hates that he does this to her.

He hates himself for making Beth feel she has to pack herself away.

He hates that he's big as he is, mammoth of flesh, titan of bone, and still not big enough for the both of them.

He hates how hard he clings to the idea of a them, an us, and most of all, how he says nothing, how the thought of giving voice to his needs paralyzes him, how even the word, desire, makes him turn to stone, in a way that's convinced him of his lack of humanity and his lack of hope.

Ben huffs. Rolls onto his mattress, smearing an ocean's spray of blues and greens across his sheets. He hopes it stains. He hopes not to hear the sound of Beth leaving, and his heart jumps at the tempo of Beth's packing, the small, defeated clap of each paint tube, then her palette, the small one that looks like a compact mirror, inside their case.

Yet, in his silence, Beth only retreats further.

In his silence, the dry food clinks in D.O.'s steel bowl, and there's the faint, grateful pat of her dog tongue, damp muscle on Beth's flesh. A lonely sound.

Back in Dontamo, late at night, the patterns of breathing, of tongues extending, springs creaking like katydids he recalled from crystal nights so long ago. Sometimes that's all you'd hear for hours.

Ben calcifies on his back, watches the light shift on the ceiling, certain that she'll leave after she feeds D.O. But when it comes to feeding Ben, Beth mustn't take his lack of response for an answer one way or another because he hears the burner click on.

He doesn't know who to thank. Probably Beth. He slowly pulls himself upright, and edges off the bed, bashful in front, lathered with paint in back—both sides in conflict with the weight of his features.

Finally, when it may even be too late, he says, "Beth, I'm sorry.”

She doesn’t turn so easily. He thinks. He thinks about what his counselor keeps telling him.

"I got…defensive," Ben says, at last, a little surly, gesturing at the impression of the word, an unwanted guest.

But there're no more ghosts to recall once he comes up behind Beth because, when his solid chest, his ribcage dressed in scars and sweat, meet Beth’s soft bronzed shoulders, and the rest of him curls around her, his solar plexus against her back, his belly at her tailbone, it's almost like his arms're right where they need to be, and he's where he needs to be; here. Beth fits; all of her fits here in his arms; here. Their bodies call to each other, and their bodies pressed together make a fairy story.

"I wish a lot of things." Ben rests the scruff of his chin on Beth's crown and lowers the flame under a pot of water. Hugs her close. Imagines they're nesting dolls. He rolls his cheek onto her temple, speaks dark and soft in her ear. "Mostly, I wish I never made you sad. 'I had three wishes, that'd be one. 'Second."

Ben squeezes Beth's waist, smoothing the inch or so of her skin made accessible to him with an artisan's pliancy, and just maybe, his thumbs get away with a little more, over the little beads of metal, gently kneading the tautness in her pelvic belt with no other intent but to soothe, though he could as easily fold Beth's torso in his golem's hands, pack her away like her paints.

"Second wish," he says into her ear. "I'd make you stop being sore at me and come back from wherever you go to make yourself small. 'Cause you're not to me."

He doesn't mention a third wish. They both know what it'd be. But then Ben thinks that whenever the moon hangs down to the lunette on its silver string, and the crickets start up their brush bands for the promise of a blue velvet night, Ben thinks he'd use his third and final wish for Beth, so she could use hers to catch a star.

@kylo-wrecked   {{from this hole in our souls}}

“Wishin’ is sometimes all I got,” she says softly. A splinter of her already smoke-quiet voice.  She wishes she’d been born someone else, someone of value. She wishes her brother never went away, to a place she couldn’t follow. She wishes she could live inside of Ben, to be a part of him. She wishes a lot of things. Her hands falter after his muscle ballet ceases, and she draws away. Gathers herself up off her knees and pads her way to the little, stain-splattered metal sink where she washes the evidence of her art from her hands.  He will shower and in that great deluge, her efforts will be washed clean. They will never have existed, not even in memory. She doesn’t blame him now nor will she later. He is a clock-maker god, he winds the watch and lets time run down. His body might be the canvas but the firmament doesn’t require his keeping.

Her hair veils her face as she packs up her paint. Offers him only faint slices of features ~the tip of a nose, the arch of a cheek, a glimpse of chin~ and even these are a little hollow. She’s retreated into herself as she often does with others, a rarity with him.

“Mebbe some day I’ll take you. Haumea. Dorumaa. Somewhere so far from here, you’ll forget it. You’d like shark-diving. Scuba or snorkelling.” She deliberately doesn’t answer his last question, hopes he takes it as something she just didn’t hear; it happens every so often if she’s not looking at his mouth, when they’re turned away from one another. She doesn’t know the answer to give him and anything she might say will hit too close to the bone. Beth doesn’t feel substantial enough today to bleed for him. “I’m going to feed DO. You wan me make somet’ing for you?”

[flowerbloom-arts]

I am... Honestly disappointed in how the fandom completely turned a blind eye in the angst potential of the Muddler.

[kinda angry vent in the tags]

[sivyera]

Cillian Murphy- Fluff alphabet

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x fem!reader (but I think it can work for non-binary too)

Warning: none just pure fluff, maybe just age gap (Cillian is 45 and reader is around 20)

A/N: English is not my first language so I apologize for the grammatical mistakes. Enjoy!

A = Activities. What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Cillian doesn’t have much free time. He is very busy. So you usually call over facetime. But when he have some free time he want to spend it with you. So you are going out to the park or to the shop. In lazy days you two are just cuddling in the bed or sofa and watching some movies.

B = Beauty. What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Cillian find everything about you attractive. He admire every inch of your body. Your eyes, your laugh, your smile, your hair, you hands, just EVERYTHING! But I think his favourite would be probably your smile.

You find his blue eyes attractive. When you look at them you feel like you are drowning. They are like ocean so deep, so mysterious. You can see every emotion in them.

C = Comfort. How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

He hate when he sees you in pain. Doesn’t matter if it’s physical or mental pain. He would try so hard to make you feel better. He would listen if you want him to. If you want some time alone - you have it! He would be waiting for you to be ready to tell him what’s bothering you. But If you have panic attack he would hug you and tell you to breathe and he would rub your back. After you calm down, he would give you something to eat or drink and he would put you in a warm bath. 

D = Dates. What are dates with them like?

Cillian doesn’t care what are you two doing he just want to be with you. But I think it would be all sorts of things. ‘Little’ dates like go to a caffe, for a walk or just cuddle season. ‘Big’ dates are probably in some fancy restaurant or something like that.

E = Everything. You are my ____ (e.g. my life, my world…)

‘You are my world.’

F = Feelings. When did they know they were falling in love?

You guys met at set of Peaky Blinders. You were new love interest for Tommy so you and Cillian spent a lot of time together. He didn't even realised he fall in love with you. It just kind of happened. He realised when he started miss you and he was thinking about you all the time. He dreamt of waking up to your face everyday. His heart skipped a beat every time you smiled at him. One day he realised ‘i’m in love with Y/N’.

H = Honesty. Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

At first he wouldn’t tell you everything. He had to make sure you were his "soulmate" and if he could trust you 100%. When he's sure, there's nothing he won't tell you. He trusts you with everything, even with his life, and he wants you to trust him as much as he trusts you. If you have trust issues he would try very VERY hard to earn your trust.

I = Impression. First impression/s?

You two got along very well. You sped so much time together. Your personalities just clicked. It took a few months maybe a year, but that friendship soon turned into love. Very passionate love.

J = Jealousy. Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Like I was saying, after he is sure you’re his soulmate he trusts you helplessly. So I think he doesn’t get jealous easily,  but he also has his limits. Sometimes he is little insecure about his age. He is scared you will found someone younger than him. Someone who is closer to your age. Please tell him that you don’t care about his age.

K = Kiss. How do they kiss?

His kisses would be passionate. Most of the time he would hold your chin or your cheeks in his hands and slowly kiss you. His kisses can tell you how is he really feels. There is also another way to kiss you. He quickly come to you, hug you and kiss you like you’re everything he need in this moment. He kiss you like this when he miss you or when he didn’t see you because of his job.

 L = Love Confession. How would they confess to their s/o?

There are two ways how he would confess to you. First way is after gaining courage he would come to you with your favourite flowers tell you that how beautiful you are and how much he love you and that is okay if you don’t like him back ect. Just mumbles nervously about asking you on a date. Second way is when he is that nervous he can’t even speak, he looks at you with hearts in his eyes and with a big smile on his face. So he would decide to write you letter or email where he would confess his love for you.

M = Marriage. Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

YES! He want spend the rest of his life with you (so treat him right!). So yes he want to marry you. He will propose in place that is special for both of you. It would probably be in nature. At the lake, in the woods, in the mountains,.. Marriage would be simple but very magical. Both of you want marriage just with your family and close friends. I see it in earth colours. Probably black, brown and elephants bones colours. He tries to hide did and act strong but it barriers break when he sees you coming to him. He would cry so hard.

N = Nicknames. What do they call their s/o?

My love, baby, babe, darlin’, sweetie. His favourite is my love or baby. He also calls you your nickname if you have some to tease you. If you don’t have any nicknames, don’t worry he would give you some.

O = On Cloud Nine. What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

If he is in love with you he would act like a puppy. Lost puppy. He would follow you everywhere where you go with big eyes full of love. For his friends it’s very obvious that he is in love with you. For ‘normal’ people who don’t know you two is not to much obvious. That don’t mean that he doesn’t show his love to you in public but to your guys relationship is nothing to other people. Also you keep your relationship on medium state in public because of the haters. He expresses his feelings through deeds. His love language is quality time and physical contact.

P = PDA. Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

He is not shy or shamed to show you off. He gives you a kiss in front of others, but only small pecks. You have to be careful how affectionate you’re on public because of the paparazzi and haters. You are younger than him so that’s why. There are still some stupid people who judge your relationship because of the age gap. And annoying paparazzi who wants to know your secrets.

Q = Quirk. Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

He can read you like open book. He study your actions and how you react to each things. So when you need help with anything he is here to help you.Don’t know which movie you want to watch? Cillian = correct choice of movie. Don't’n know which nail polish to take? He is faster than sonic and BOOM now you know which one. His advice are the best and 90% right one. Still you are your own person and you have your own personality so he can’t be 100% sure what you will like or not you know. 

R = Romance. How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

He’s old school. So it’s kind of cliché. He is very romantic and he’s happy when you are happy. He’s maybe cliché but If you don’t like it or If you like something else he would do it. And If he don’t know how to do it he would learn and try. But things that works on you are most of the time cuddles, kisses or something you really like. Like watching your favourite tv show or movies over and over again if it’s make you happy. He would listen to you for hours even if you were talking about how you ate your breakfast.

S = Support. Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

He gives me that vibes ‘THAT’S MY GIRLFRIEND’. He’s very proud of you. He believes that you’re strong so you can reach your goals on your own, but If you need help or you’re tired he’s right beside you to help you. He expects the same from you he’s sometimes tired or helpless too.

T = Talking. What do they like to talk about?

You two are low key conspiracy theorists. You’re also interested in true crime stories. I feel like you would have very deep conversations.

U = Understanding. How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

He maybe seems like he doesn’t care or he’s not interested, but he DOES. VERY MUCH. He knows you more than himself. Like I said he study you a lot. He is empathetic at 75%. Google says that he’s INTJ so.

V = Value. How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

You’re his number one priority. So as your guys relationship. Your relationship is like a diamond to him. He will watch over him, respect him and never give up on him.

W = Wild Card. A random Fluff Headcanon.

He’s like a teddy bear. He’s so warm and cuddly.

X = Xylophone. What’s song describe your relationship?

Don’t Blame Me - Taylor Swift

Y = Yearning. How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

He’s very busy man so it’s not suprise that you are facetiming. He miss you a lot everytime. He listens your favourite songs, watching your favourite movies, watching videos or photos you took together. Or he’s just texting you.

Z = Zebra. If they wanted a pet, what would they get?

Dog. 100% sure. He’s a dog lover. I think he would want a labrador or golden retriever.