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catsukiiee · 8 months ago

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# IF YOU DON'T HAVE ANYTHING NICE TO SAY, THEN SHUT UP!

bookstoreowner!reader x prohero!katsuki bakugou

| Chapter 2

chapter one can be found here: !!

— readers quirk: weightless [ allows you to manipulate gravity, making both objects and humans lighter or so heavy to the point they can't be moved/move themselves. ]

— reader appearance idea: short spiky/ruffled black hair, the edges have a faded pink color from a dye attempt, stands at 5'4, lightly muscular, dark olive toned skin. [ you don't have to picture this! just for those who want to picture a character/want to use a look instead. ]

— bakugou has been aged up to his mid twenties, reader is also in the mid twenties [ don't have to use the ages i set, please just don't make it questionable while reading my work 🤨 ]

It had been a few weeks since the entire robbery incident occurred, and it seemed like things had returned to their usual state. Well, to some extent.

Ever since that Pro Hero intervened, it felt as though reminders of him were everywhere you turned. The colors red and black? Undoubtedly associated with him. Even the colors orange and green seemed to have a connection to him.

Honestly, it was starting to get on your nerves. Just the mere thought of his face brought about a slight irritation. What was so captivating about Katsuki Bakugou that he occupied your mind?

Letting out a deep sigh, you rested your chin on your hand, casually glancing around your small bookstore. The regular customers were scattered about, their noses deep in their books as usual.

"Excuse me!" You turned around to see who was trying to get your attention, and to your surprise, it was the same woman who had almost been robbed before. After everything that had transpired, you didn't anticipate her return. She always seemed so anxious and jumpy.

She handed you a small box wrapped in blue paper, adorned with a white bow. "I wanted to give this to you as a token of my gratitude for saving me," she said. "I noticed that you never eat, so I prepared a lunch for you. As long as I remain your loyal customer, I will continue bringing you lunches."

Her gesture completely caught you off guard. You never expected someone to express such appreciation for simply doing the right thing. "Oh, wow! Um, thank you!" You gave a slight bow and carefully accepted the box from her, afraid that it might break if you held it too tightly. The aroma of some kind of meat wafted from the box, causing your stomach to growl in anticipation. "And please send my thanks to that Pro Hero as well. I was quite shaken and wanted to return home as soon as possible, so I didn't have the chance to express my gratitude to anyone."

You weren't quite sure how you would go about finding a Pro Hero, but nevertheless, you agreed with a smile, addressing the woman gently. "Certainly, ma'am."

It was around ten o'clock in the evening when you were finishing up at the shop, making sure everything was in order before heading home to warm up the food you had received earlier. As you turned around, you nearly bumped into a familiar figure. The scent of spices filled the air as you took a step back, locking eyes with someone whose gaze you knew all too well.

"You really have no sense of self-preservation," he remarked, looking down at you with his hands tucked into his pockets.

What did he mean by that?

"I've been watching you for the past fifteen minutes, and you never noticed," he revealed.

Oh.

Shifting your weight from one foot to another, you continued to gaze up at him, unsure of how to respond. Why did he come back to your bookstore? And why was he silently observing you for fifteen minutes?

"You should be more alert," he commented, pausing to survey your empty store while absentmindedly scratching his stomach. "That's probably why you almost got robbed."

Did he just…?

"You," you began, taking a step forward. "You're such a disrespectful jerk." You stared him down, pressing your finger against his chest. "You're supposed to be a Pro Hero, not someone who mistreats the people they're supposed to protect."

You observed his jaw tense at your words, and one of his hands swiftly reached up to grab yours. "First of all," he started slowly. "My attitude has nothing to do with my hero work."

How severe would the consequences be if I punched a Pro Hero?

His gaze remained light, with a clear hint of amusement as he continued to hold your hand and maintain eye contact. "I just came to make sure you have your license now, and it's getting late. I'd like to walk you home."

What?

"You… You just insulted me, and now you want to walk me home?" you exclaimed, gaping at him like a fool.

"And to see if you got your license," he added smugly.

Deciding against your violent tendencies, you instead grabbed your purse and keys from the counter before storming past him. "Un- fucking-believable," you muttered quietly.

Bakugou walked easily by your side, matching your brisk pace with relaxed, long strides. "So, about your license?"

Keeping your gaze forward, you pursed your lips for a moment. "I don't have it."

Silence. That was the response to your words. You could almost feel his gaze searing into the side of your face. It made you feel hot for all the wrong reasons.

He eventually broke the silence, "Can I ask why?" He was now walking closer to you, occasionally brushing his arm against yours.

"I've been busy with my café, and fortunately, I haven't been targeted for robbery again, so there's no need to worry about me using my quirk."

This time, you took the slight risk of gazing up at his face. Bakugou was already gazing down at you, with the black mask he had been wearing now resting beneath his chin. How long had he been wearing a mask, anyway?

"I'm not concerned about that," He grumbled, his red eyes growing stern. "I would like if you got a license rather than getting arrested. I've been keeping them away."

Wait, what?

That caused you to halt in your tracks, your eyebrows furrowing. "Who do you mean by them? Are you referring to the police?"

He shrugged his shoulders in response to your question, causing your jaw to twitch. "It's a simple yes or no question, Katsuki Bakugou."

His lips contorted into a fierce scowl as he halted just inches away from you, his towering figure casting a shadow over you. "Don't call me by my name, It's the Great Explosion Murder God: Dynamight to you. "

Is he genuinely serious? I mean, seriously?

You struggled not to laugh right in his face, but unfortunately, your attempt was futile as a slight snort escaped instead. "I refuse to address you by that fuckass name, you fucking idiot."

"We aren't friends, you don't get to call me by my actual name." He stated flatly.

After briefly scratching a sudden itch at the corner of your eye, a habitual tic of yours, you paused for a moment before resuming your walk. "Alrighty, Dynamight."

Bakugou remained silent, the two of you continued walking together in silence.

You stood in front of your house door, facing away from Bakugou as you rummaged through your purse in search of your keys. The entire walk to your house had been filled with an uncomfortable silence. At this point, you weren't sure if using his real name had genuinely offended him or not.

Once your fingers finally closed around your house keys, you turned around to face him. He stood there, staring back at you with a neutral expression, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Sorry.."

His brows furrowed in confusion. It made your ears feel uncomfortably warm.

"I didn't mean to call you by your real name. I-" Your sentence was abruptly cut off by Bakugou's intense stare, causing you to fall silent.

"Enough." He grumbled. "And don't bother apologizing."

You pressed your lips together, nodding in understanding before turning your back to him once again. In silence, you unlocked your front door.

Just as you were about to step inside, you felt a sudden surge of heat right behind you, causing your entire body to tense up.

"Dy-" You began.

"Bakugou." He interjected.

You turned around, ready to question him, but he was already walking away, his expression unreadable. "Have a goodnight." And with that, he left, leaving you feeling a chill in the air.

"I didn't even get to tell him about the lady." You muttered.

sitting here like:

after writing the last part 😭

#x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #my hero academia fic

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moemiji · 12 days ago

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hello momiji, i wanted some tips for problems i have recently with editing, because i love your edits and page. always feel free to ignore this.

the first problem i have is looking for rsrcs . even if i scroll up and down on tumblr i save everything i need it just never comes to use.

second is i never know what desgn i should do. like i spend hours just for a blank, disgusting blog banner of some character with greens and whites.

third is colors. i know abt color theory and the wheels, but everytime i get a palette, i stray too far away from it but when i stick to it, the colors look forced.

i use ibispaint x, what i do usually when i edit is getting the outline, putting the character then editing in the resources. ty and bye

Ah .. it saddens me to witness my dearest anon insulting themselves - Please, do not doubt yourself. There will come paths of many cruel nights and storms, we shall prevail no matter the circumstances, and though it is rough: know that I'll always do best to encourage and assist.

The answers anticipates for your arrivals ー undercut｡

1. Resources

Resources, you say?.. I suppose it's not much to say, however - I would usually work with what I have. I tend to stray away from PNGs that won't fit with the theme of the character/aesthetic, yet that does not conclude I will not make use or try them out. More importantly is to make use of what you have right now - always begin on with your ideas - write them up: which one fancy your eyes the most? The PNGs I pick out are somewhat a vector style - of course this will mostly depends on your style and what you desire to execute on. Reminder that good ideas are not valued until they're executed - execution is always crucial.

2. Ideas

If you are confused or puzzled on what to do, how about we sit back and gain some inspiration? One advice to gain inspiration is not only from other people, ideas .. are like a gift. Everyone can have the same ideas and some will execute it first yet that doesn't mean you should give up. For me - where I usually get ideas is around 4-6 AM early in the morning. It is important to first get yourself energized, perhaps start taking deep breathes? Or do some work .. anything challenging to get a dose of serotonin and yes - it sounds like a rather hassle but that's really how I gained my ideas, through serotonin. Alternatively - you can freestyle, I would have an idea at hand but work on it differently if I find something interesting.

3. Colours

To be frank .. I've not recollected much regarding colour theory - how I work on it is very intuitive. Not sure if I explained this well, however; with colour palettes, do not be afraid to change a few things - how I personally would make them is something like this;

As you can see - the lighter side is not too bright, the darker side is not too dark. Red and pink distance is not very far in the distance, however - red is a more intense colour compared to pink, which is why pink would generally be nearest to the white side. I try to give my works a bit more depth by adding at least 2 different colours the minimum - for instance;

Here you can see that there are different shades of colours. The darker side is mostly leaning over to dark green, with the colour blue slightly green-ish. And a lighter geen, and so on - Of course, this just gives off the green sea theme, doesn't it? So let's experiment with other colours .. instead of blue, let's try something of brown.

The green colours are still the same but the blue colours are switched out. Yet the theme resembles something .. chocolate mint ice cream - perhaps? I'm getting quite hungry, actually. On the lighter side, there is a somewhat gold-ish light colour, and on the darker side where instead of blue - it's brown. Brown is on the orange spectrum, orange is the furthest away from green. ( And Of course, some adjustments are made - like moving the distance between the colours on the gradient map there. ) By drastically changing the distance of colours, there will be a hugely different result. The first one is more colder, the second one is more warmer.

I use photopea so I apologize if this may not be of help to you as an IbisPaint user .. Outlines/Strokes are certainly important for some spots - for me, I would begin on with media of the character. And create the gradient map, if some images doesn't please to my eyes - where one is lighter or stands out way more than intended, or doesn't suit - then I will make changes through colour overlay, this is very optional though. Something I find useful is the gradient in the strokes colour option in Photopea, I can't quite remember whether IbisPaint has it or not, but I'm sure it can work out .. It's difficult to describe as I can't exactly pay attention to what I'm doing during a focused flow of work. Moreover, do not be discouraged so easily - it is always better to acknowledge your own work. Do not be worried about whether it would be "good enough", instead, wonder on about whether you've spent your time well, did you feel satisfied? Did you enjoyed it? If you doubt so, then that is something to learn. May this advice be of benefit and reassurance to you during your journey of editing ♡ I apologize if this was way too lengthy or not of help, please take care - the soul adores you. /p

#𝐕｡꒱ ⠀Reservoir⠀ ֢𓏼♡#editblr #rentry resources #photopeablr #carrd resources #rentry help

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everybodyshusband · 1 year ago

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oh satan devour us all (hear our desperate call)

cowbell/zephyr (ghost band)

explicit | nb/nb | 6.3k words | it/its cowbell, they/them zephyr, free use, predator/prey, subtob zephyr, riding, semi-public sex, shifting genitals, objectification, earth/quintessence multi ghoul cowbell

—this fic is a (very late) birthday gift for my absolutely beloved friend @spoiledleaff for a little birthday fic exchange we organised for each other <3 i asked him what he wanted and they asked for cowbell being a menace (/aff) to zephyr, so that's what this is !! it's actually supposed to piggyback off of the practice scene in his very own terzomega fic, so go and read that as well if you're able to !! happy birthday, ashton !! i can't believe i've known you for an entire year already <3

snippet and ao3 link under the cut !

gif credit: @/kazoo-lord

The only fault in this system is that Cowbell seems to have taken a liking to playmates with… unique vessels. In the case of the air ghoul sitting opposite it on the other side of the library, this refers to the way their vessel’s functionality varies from day to day. Some days, the air ghoul is able to walk with ease, perform their daily tasks, wield the keys of the chapel organ to create haunting melodies that echo out through the grounds of the Ministry. But on other days, they can’t walk without one of their canes, let alone make their daily lemongrass and ginger tea without aid from a willing hand. On their especially bad days, they might not even be able to roll over in bed without having to hold back a pained wail. All this is to say that although Cowbell may take joy from pushing its partners to the edge of their comfort zone—especially Zephyr—it would never wish any extra pain upon them. Well, perhaps it would be more accurate to say that the earth ghoul wouldn’t wish extra pain upon them unless it is the one inflicting it. Therefore, a system had to be developed, which Zephyr seemed to take in their stride. They’d designed an entire colour-based system which corresponds with their pain levels, and many of the earth ghoul’s similarly-vesseled partners have also chosen to adopt it for themselves over time. Cowbell is the first to admit Zephyr’s idea is genius; especially given the air ghoul’s tendencies to ‘forget’ their cane on their days of bad pain, making it nearly impossible for Cowbell to garner whether its mate is genuinely in excruciating pain due to the state of their vessel, or if they are simply playing into Cowbell’s twisted fantasies. Their lighter bells—pale pinks, blues and yellows—are ones they wear in order to signify to Cowbell that although Zephyr is still very interested in being taken and used until they’re seeing stars, Cowbell needs to treat them gently—to degrade them with its words rather than its actions—lest it make anything more painful for them than it already is. Zephyr’s dark coloured bells on the other hand—deep reds, blues, greens and blacks—are used to signify a good pain day; their way of wordlessly telling Cowbell that the two of them are free to do anything it sets its mind to, regardless of the position or any other factor that might put strain on weary joints—provided it’s not on Zephyr’s list of hard limits, of course; although there have been a few occasions when the air ghoul has begged for–

But that’s not important right now.

Right now, Cowbell is sure Zephyr’s bell is dark today, but they’re in the middle of checking a book out for a Sibling and it can’t get a proper glimpse of the specific colour the air ghoul is donning today. Its lack of clear view infuriating, but the anticipation has the earth ghoul all fired up and it’s sure that when the time comes, it will be able to wreck Zephyr twice as hard as it normally would—provided that their softly jingling indicator is, in fact, one of dark colour.

“Oh, I love your bell!” The Sibling says—Cowbell’s almost certain that she is the Sister it was chasing through the Abbey’s halls just last week, a pretty, deep pink bell attached to the ribbon wrapped around her wrist—as she reaches a finger out to tap Zephyr’s bell lightly, giggling at the soft jingle it elicits. Cowbell growls and feels its eyes glint with malice at someone touching its Zephyr.

Zephyr affixes the Sister with a look—they know all about her adventures with Cowbell, the earth ghoul itself had told them just last week—but smiles, flattered. If Cowbell’s vision is not failing it from so far away, the air ghoul looks offended that the Sister would even consider touching its bell—Zephyr is well aware that although the bell may live in their dorm, it’s not theirs, it’s Cowbell’s. They incline their head in her direction, always the epitome of politeness despite their obvious frustration. “Many thanks, Sister.” She takes the book back from them and finally moves out of the way, providing Cowbell with a direct line of sight to Zephyr’s neck, an obsidian black bell dangling from their carefully crafted collar. Their way of silently telling Cowbell that it’s a good pain day. That they’re wanting for more than the light green bell Cowbell had slipped into their pocket at practice in anticipation of a bad pain day. That no holds need to be barred. That the earth ghoul has permission to destroy Zephyr if it sees fit, and, fuck, is it going to wreck them until they’re seeing double. That’s what it promised to do during today’s practice after all…

[read the rest on ao3 !!]

#cowbell ghoul #zephyr ghoul #chAir ghoul #<- i don't know if that tag is still active but just in case :))#nonbinary zephyr #nonbinary cowbell #cowbell/zephyr #zephyr/cowbell #nameless ghouls #the band ghost #husband writes #spicy tag #cw free use

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tamlins-stories-and-poems · 2 years ago

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First and foremost: should Seanan read this despite the tag that is intended to warn her eyes away and end up with any ideas or find that I hit something I shouldn’t’ve despite my lack of speculation, I disavow any rights I may have had to the idea. Should she want to print out the art [link]and hang it on the wall/in a window, I will be honored. Should anyone else want to print it out and hang it on their walls/windows, I will still be honored but request some form of payment for my hard work. I put a lot into this. Most of the tutorial/coloring explanations are between the two arrows.

I love stained glass. I always have, and think there should be more of it around, just, in general.

So, when I found a poem I wrote a little while ago, based on how I think the fae society in the October Daye series gossip about the titular character, stained glass quickly worked its way in as the style to emulate. Originally, I was hoping to challenge myself in other ways—drawing messy rooms like the Luideag’s kitchen, practice my shading, work on actual comic panel type deals—but most of those were completely untenable in a stained glass style drawing, at least at my current level of skill. So when I settled on stained glass, the other challenges fell to the wayside.

->You can probably tell that my skill for the line work improved as I worked through these, sketching and inking 14 panels in 14 days, and getting more comfortable with this style. The coloring was done a bit more haphazardly, slapping down bucket fills when I found the right color and jumping between panels to make sure the ones I wanted to match stayed the same. I chose colors a lot more saturated than I’m used to, mostly because at 85% opacity, everything looks a little desaturated already, and the rest because stained glass is supposed to be bright and leave swaths of bright color crossing the room around it.

I needed the opacity to have the texture layered underneath (replicating the inconsistencies in real glass) at least somewhat visible, and for the texture of the brush to have uneven edges, and a somewhat inconsistent shape. I found one that worked—called charcoal, iirc—which I used to randomly place shadows at ~70% opacity beneath the other colors, and very light cyan at ~30% over top. <-

Other than a few examples listed below, the most complex coloring after that was a few gradients, mostly in the background or in hair, but a few on Toby’s coat in “Daye will save you, if she can” that I didn’t feel like trying to redo when I realized I mixed one of her hair colors in, and some painting overtop of the “glass” for Cap’n Pete’s opalescent/oil slick scales and hair

People;

Toby:

I gotta start with Tobes. I used a pale yellow for the lighter part of her hair, near her scalp as it’s been growing in more and more pale as she’s been shifted more pureblood. I know Seanan says it all changes at once, but I chose to ignore that for fun coloring. I wanted her to be the most desaturated person visible, which more affected choosing other peoples’ colors than hers, but worked out well enough.

May:

May’s hair. I had a filker (fandom-musician) friend, upon her retirement, get pink and blue feathered/chessboard hair. She was delighted by this, but decided that she keeps her hair short enough that it wasn’t worth maintaining. I patterned May’s hair based on my friend’s, but threw in colors at almost random and hoped for the best. May’s skin matches Toby. Her neon green sweater is based on something I remember reading from the books but might not actually exist, and her skirt is a patchwork of bright colors, mostly picked from her hair.

Beloved S. Torquill (as opposed to his twin the disliked S. Torquill):

White shirt for his current fresh start. Long hair for Vibes. Not much else to say about him here. Too many spoilers.

Tybalt:

Kitty man! Brown hair, originally was going to have the stripes just be the way the “glass” was set, but after drawing Pete’s hair I painted some darker brown stripes in. Red (probably silk) shirt under brown leather vest. Hair in a bun bc the Toby Discord has had odd fits of being obsessed with man-bun Tybalt. So he can have little a bun. As a treat.

Quentin:

For his hair I went with a yellow intended to be between the dandelion of his introduction and the polished bronze of his more recent appearances. Triangles as the base shape for his hair also just because vibes. Probably broke his nose at least once when he couldn’t get it set pretty and perfect in time to heal.

Raj:

There is a picture of an Abyssinian cat on the Toby wiki, and I used the main visible color for his hair (by eyeballing it, bc, again, saturation). He has dark skin to go with his south-west asian name. Samson may have been the type of jerk to culturally appropriate names, but I want to think Raj is actually a person of color. None of the descriptions I remember actually include his skin tone. In cat form I airbrushed in some details to look a little more like the cat photo.

the Luideag:

Curly black hair, sometimes held by electrical tape in pigtails, can have shark teeth at will. I like shark teeth. I had fun playing with how curls work in stained glass (let me know how you liked them!), otherwise looks like a teenaged mortal who blends in around San Fran. I used to live just over the hill, and I always picture her as looking Hispanic, like about half of my old neighbors (probable hyperbole), at least in her current guise.

Blind Michael (hand only):

Discord member helped me double check, and his skin was “striped tan and white like ash bark” I decided on green pointed nails to look like leaves. Discolored slightly when looking through the orb holding Karen’s soul.

Karen, butterfly form:

I forgot she was supposed to be a swallowtail until I was done inking. Didn’t want to attempt to erase and try again for proper stripes and wing-tails. I was just thinking “she needs eye spots bc eyes are windows to the soul, and this is her butterfly soul.” Yellow bc tiger swallowtail call-back. Trying to escape away from Blind Micheal’s hand.

acacia:

Moth lady moth lady moth lady she gets fluffy moth antennae. Skin and cloak colors taken directly from wiki description, hair gradiented in gold-ish yellow and brown to match what I could of the “writhing brown roots and golden hair” of the wiki description. I didn’t dare go check the books and get caught rereading and lose steam by distracting myself.

Pete

Cap’n Pete in pirate clothes sounded both more fun and easier to stylize than a fancy living-tides dress. Her hair is described as “oil slick” and she has “matching pale scales” here and there, but I only depicted them on her cheek. I also tried to give her ruffles/a cravat that matched her shirt. Bc why not.

#october daye spoilers #october daye #probably:#seanan no #tamlin’s works #tamlin speaks #what other tags are needed?

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justsomerandomfanfic · 6 days ago

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hiya! could I do a romance matchup request for spn, marvel and kingsman please! C:

I am 19 and a straight female so id like male matches please! the only exclusions id ask is for kingsman to have one of the younger(?) characters eg eggsy, whiskey, tequila- as much as i love harry and merlin it would be more like as mentors! and for marvel id be cool with like anyone besides peter because again lil brother vibes haha!

appearance: 5’7”, long dark blonde hair, blue eyes. very girly style, fake tan, glowy natural makeup. glasses if im at home, contacts if im going out.

i am very loud, bubbly and comedic, but i do also need time to decompose and relax. i am an emotionally lead person but it takes me time to open up to others. clumsy, academically smart but lacking in common sense at times. totally fine standing up for myself in an argument but cannot physically fight to save my life. my friends often say i am a drama queen! my confidence tends to falter when it comes to romance and i can get unusually nervous, but once im comfortable I’d become very affectionate.

likes: drawing, sweet scents, sweet foods, spicy foods, tea, candles, flowers & houseplants, anything pink, comedy and action movies. forever a pop music girly but also a bit of a lover of rock. beaches, historical landmarks and random facts.

i hope this is okay, tysm ^-^

Hello!

I made sure to not choose any of the characters you did not want.

I hope you like your matchups!

<333333

Enjoy!

Romantic Matchups; Supernatural, Kingsman, and Marvel

~~~

Romantic;

~~~

Supernatural;

Dean Winchester -

You weren’t supposed to be in danger.

You were just visiting a small town, enjoying a little getaway, when things went horribly wrong.

One minute, you were enjoying a late-night walk, admiring the moonlit scenery, and the next, you were running for your life as a werewolf set its sights on you.

You tripped - of course you did, because clumsiness is your curse - and just when you thought it was over, a gunshot rang out.

You hoped for a silver bullet.

You barely had time to process the silver bullet taking the creature down before a man with a leather jacket, green eyes, and a cocky smirk helped you up.

“You alright, sweetheart? ‘Cause that was a hell of a close call.”

You were too out of breath to do much more than nod, but the second wave of panic kicked in, and Dean was right there to calm you down, cracking a joke to ease your nerves.

Dean never expected you to stick around, but somehow, you did.

You shouldn't have, but you had already seen too much.

You were too curious about the supernatural world to walk away, and let’s be honest - Dean kind of liked having you around.

Your bubbly personality was a stark contrast to his gruff demeanor, but you had this infectious energy that made even the worst hunts a little lighter.

You always brought sweet-smelling candles to the bunker because, “Dean, it smells like a man cave in here, and not in a good way.”

Dean pretended to roll his eyes but secretly liked them, especially the vanilla-scented ones.

You bonded over rock music, arguing about the best bands.

"Sweetheart, if you say one more pop song is better than Zeppelin, I’m leaving you on the side of the road."

You’d bake together, you enjoying the process and Dean just wanting to eat.

He’d steal bites of cookie dough and claim it was for "quality control."

Will help make pie with you.

Dean knew he was screwed when he caught himself staring at you a little too long.

The way your nose scrunched up when you laughed?

The way you always made sure he had a hot cup of tea after a long day?

The way you absentmindedly hummed classic rock songs?

Yeah, he was a goner.

You weren’t much better.

Your confidence always took a nosedive when it came to romance, so you brushed off your feelings.

But the tension?

Palpable.

Sam noticed.

Cas noticed.

Hell, even Crowley probably noticed.

Dean started getting more protective, always standing just a little too close when you were on a case, hand hovering near your waist as if ready to pull you back at any moment.

And oh, when someone flirted with you at a bar?

The way his jaw clenched?

You’d never seen him down a beer so fast just to get you out of there.

He even stopped bringing other women around.

How odd, you thought.

It happened after another close call on a hunt.

You almost got hurt - again - and Dean just lost it.

“I can’t keep doing this, sweetheart. Watchin' you almost die. Thinkin' about what I’d do if you weren’t here. I- hell, I’m no good at this, but I think about you all the damn time.”

You were stunned, heart pounding, and it took all your courage to blurt out, “Good, because I think about you all the damn time too.”

Dean just looked at you, then kissed you, desperate, yet still soft, like he’d been waiting forever to do it.

Mornings together are slow, filled with teasing as you steal his flannel shirts and complain about how he steals the covers.

Sweet gestures like him buying you flowers randomly.

"Just 'cause, alright? Don't make a thing out of it."

Candlelit movie nights - you’d watch action and cowboy films with him, and he’d begrudgingly watch your pop star documentaries in return.

Protectiveness cranked to a hundred.

You stub your toe?

He’s checking it like you broke your foot, carrying you around until you beg him to let you walk on your own.

"I'm fine, De."

"Nope, I'm gonna carry you forever. Don't want you stubbin' your toes again."

Someone looks at you wrong?

He’s staring them down.

"De, stop glaring at the puppy."

"He's givin' ya a weird look."

He would die for you.

But also, he would kill for you.

"I'd kill for you, ya'know?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, De."

Just saying.

~~~

Kingsman;

Tequila -

You were a brand-new recruit at Statesman, fresh out of training, and trying very hard not to let the nerves get to you.

Tequila noticed you the moment you walked in, all confidence with that girly style that made you stand out in the sea of tough agents.

“Damn, sugar, didn’t know we had a beauty contest going on.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the grin.

Oh, so he’s that kind of guy, eh?

Tequila flirted with you constantly, but it quickly became your dynamic - fast-paced, playful, and full of teasing.

You’d playfully call him “Cowboy Casanova” when he got too cocky.

He’d make it his mission to get you to flush, just to watch you fluster about for a second.

Training together?

He’d push you hard but always made sure to make you laugh in between.

You were terrible at hand-to-hand combat.

“I ain’t lettin’ you fight anyone, darlin’, but I’ll teach you how to duck.”

Will pin you to the mat-

It snuck up on him.

One day, the flirting wasn’t just flirting.

He wanted you to be his.

And he wanted to be yours...

He got jealous when another agent hit on you, wrapping an arm around you and grinning, “She’s spoken for, partner.”

You thought that he was just saying that to get the other agent away from you, and it worked, and you were thankful - the guy was weird - but his words made your cheeks burn.

You would find out soon enough that he was serious about you.

The confession?

Smooth as ever.

A casual, “So when are we gonna stop pretendin’ we ain’t crazy about each other?”

He calls you “sugar” and “darlin’” like second nature.

Tequila spoils you - flowers, good food, and slow dances in the kitchen.

He loves lazy beach days with you, watching you bask in the sun while he brags, “Best lookin’ woman in all the world, right there.”

Protective, but in a teasing way.

“Ain’t nobody gonna mess with my girl, not unless they wanna meet my rifle.”

Massages, he's pretty good at them.

No more knots in your shoudlers, that's for sure.

Surprise forehead kisses.

Constantly.

You've been warned.

~~~

Marvel;

Thor Odinson -

You joined the Avengers with a vibrant personality and an eye-catching, girly style- something Thor found delightful.

He was fascinated by how effortlessly you could make even the grumpiest teammates laugh.

(Cough Bucky cough).

You told him random historical facts, and he was genuinely enthralled, often responding with, “Truly? Midgard is full of wonders!”

Thor was immediately taken with you, but it wasn’t just attraction - it was the way you shined, how you made every room brighter just by being in it.

He loved listening to you ramble about your favorite movies and songs, even if he barely understood what “pop music” meant.

You taught him how to make tea properly, and now he insists on brewing it for you every morning, proudly calling it “a Midgardian ritual of great importance.”

The protectiveness?

On another level.

He didn’t just stand near you on missions - he practically formed a shield around you.

“None shall harm you while I stand, Lady Y/N.”

Thor doesn’t do subtle.

When he realizes his feelings, he doesn’t hesitate.

One day, after a particularly dangerous mission, he pulls you aside, brows furrowed in concern.

“I do not wish to waste another moment in uncertainty. My heart belongs to you, and I would be honored if you allowed me to cherish you as more than a confidant.”

You’re stunned, nervous as hell, but when you admit you feel the same, he grins like the sun before lifting you off your feet in a victorious, bone-crushing, Thor hug.

Super affectionate.

Thor is all about physical touch.

If you’re in the room, he’s holding your hand, carrying you effortlessly, or pressing soft kisses to your forehead.

Gifts you Asgardian jewelry, always picking out gems that remind him of your eyes. “This crystal shines like the wamrth of your gaze, my love.”

Big spoon forever.

(Will be little spoon for you though-)

You curl into him at night, and he wraps you up like you’re the most precious thing in the universe.

Museume dates!

Loves brushing your hair.

He’s fascinated by the softness and will run his fingers through it absentmindedly.

Will let your brush his hair too, and braid it!

Whenever you bake, he gets way too excited about trying all the sweet treats.

“By the gods, Midgardian food is a gift! Another!"

"Thor, you already had four slices."

Carries you all the time.

You could be walking just fine, and suddenly, boom, you’re in his arms.

“Why walk when I can carry you, my love?”

Flowers?

All the time.

Thor will pick entire fields of flowers just to make you smile.

"Thor, where did you get those flowers?"

"I retreived them from the garden outside the Tower."

Poor Pepper, those were her favorites.

4 notes · View notes

unknownjpegs · 1 year ago

Text

420

“I can’t.”

“You can. It’s, what, forty minutes?”

“Matilda —“

“You are so strong, I believe in you.”

Matilda shakes Nomi from her arm, but still keeps the distance between them minimal. Their shoulders brush, and the shared body heat isn’t just welcome but necessary. The dock is more than chilly; with the salty wind whipping around them, the prickle of oncoming rain, it’s downright freezing.

They could have gotten any other ferry to the island, Nomi whines. Any other captain. But this one she apparently had history with. Matilda tried not to be too annoyed about that. The fact that Nomi had secrets she wasn't aware of; the second Matilda got information, it became Nomi's info too.

“I will bloody die.” Nomi hisses quietly, her fingernails squeezing Matilda’s forearm through her fluffy parka. “He asked me what position was best, Matilda. Not like in a —general sort of way, but like for me, y’know? Because he hadn’t been with —babe, you don’t get it. He was being thoughtful and like, inclusive! I can't.”

Matilda considers this. “Alright, yeah. Fine. I would probably lock him up somewhere. But if it wasn’t a weird goodbye…it should be fine. Just be normal. It's forty minutes of being normal.”

“I can’t be normal!” Nomi whines. It’s just loud enough that their soon-to-be captain, and a rare former Nomi hookup, peeks his head out of the cabin door.

“Alright?” He asks. He hooks a thumb over his shoulder, smiling slightly. “I’ve got the space heater on, if you’d prefer inside. But if it’s — I mean privacy’s fine, hey? Don’t want to intrude.” His accent is rougher than Nomi’s, which Matilda has always found enviably pretty. Working class attractive in a way Matilda respects. Matilda watches him hold hands up, palms to them in surrender. Nice hands, too.

“Or, we could swap if you’re chattin’ business? I’ll come out here, won’t listen in. And then you’ve got the heat to yourselves?”

Okay, sure. Matilda gets it. But he's a little too cutesy for her taste, even still. She blinks at him and then glances down at Nomi, who has fully turned around to assess the horizon across the flat, navy darkness of the water. The tips of her ears are pink. Definitely definitely not from the chill.

“Thanks, captain.” Matilda laughs and offers him a two finger salute from the temple. “Be okay for now, I think. Once we get the go ahead to leave let us know and we’ll come inside.”

Where they’re bundled, gloves and scarves and hoods, he’s only in a long canvas jacket — used to this sort of open-water cold. He looks a bit skinhead with the green trench coat and combat boot vibes, but the smattering of colorful tattoos on his forearms and silly graphic t-shirt counteract it well.

He nods,tucks his hands into his pockets. Matilda clocks it more nerves than the need for warmth. “Sound, sound. Uh. Nomi, sorry. I’ve still got Geico, so—you can feed him if you’d like. Okay, I’ll just —just go wait, s’pose.”

Once he disappears back down into the cabin, Matilda turns to her. “You met his dog?”

Face in her leather gloved hands, Nomi mumbles: “It’s a gecko, actually.”

(It’s a cute one too, she supposes. For a gecko. They all look sort of creepy and slimy to her. She hates that they don’t blink.)

The interior of the ship is mostly dated with old appliances and decor; orange-stained wood and brass knobs. Lining the walls are squares of lighter color wallpaper than the rest, each marked at the top with a punched hole or strips of lingering adhesive. At the tiny kitchenette, he’s pulled an extra two chairs beside the booth to bolt down.

As he and Nomi make stilted, awkward catch-up banter, Matilda assesses the rest of the cabin. The hems of each curtain (pattern from the nineties) are hand-sewn, slightly crooked but with an intricate stitch that she assumes requires skill or patience, and the captain seems to lack the latter. They brush the tops of counters polished to shine; the whole interior smells of something citrusy but not chemical, on top that lingered around men who lived alone.

It wasn’t bad; he was certainly more organized and less crusty than most boat drivers, or whatever. Sea captains. She wasn’t sure if Nomi had been using her standards or head for this one, but at least he was cute.

“The couple who owned your boat before—“ her partner and the captain pause the middle of their conversation. Matilda trails off, assessing the pink on both their cheeks with an eye roll. “What happened?”

“Uh.” He rubs the back of his head, but there’s no charmingly sheepish smile or shy look. “Well, it was my nonna’s, and — it’s sort of a long story, but I got it here from Palermo so that was a fuckin’ fortune.”

That the boat was second-hand, had previously been in the care of more than one owner, and a couple at that— all a guess. Matilda got them right often.

Nomi’s a compact shape in the corner of the booth. Her forehead leans against the warm glass of the gecko’s enclosure. At even the slightest mention of something sentimental, her mouth fixes into a soft frown, eyebrows pulled up in the center.

Matilda scrunches her nose, catching her gaze before offering a tiny shake of her head. Down, girl. Relax.

“Why’d you take their pictures down?”

Maran’s demeanor shifts then. His broad shoulders tighten closer to his ears. He breaks eye contact with her, instead focusing on the water churning outside the window.

“Like I said, it’s a long story.” His fingers drum on the table, pick at each other, then settle in his lap. “Definitely too long for the trip.”

“It’s still, what, an hour?”

“Depending.”

“On the weather?”

Maran nods at her question, and seems to have relaxed a bit from the personal line of inquiry. She makes a mental note to revisit it — not because of the case or relevant information, but she figures she ought to glean whatever she can from him, given Nomi’s involvement.

“And how’s the weather been, lately?”

“I’m not from the area.” The young man clarifies. “I’m here escortin’ a pal while he’s on a job up this way. But…” he makes a strange face, eyes misting almost forgetful before they snap back into the moment. “It’s been weird. Inconsistent? It was almost eighty when we left this morning, around nine.”

“Eighty degrees?” Nomi glances at Matilda. “I’m assuming that’s Fahrenheit, yeah? But — that’s warm, isn’t it?”

“For the season and where we are? It’s pretty unheard of. Other sailors are guessing some sort of record-breaking wind pattern down south, but they’re not sure.” He shrugs. “With what’s goin’ on, though, it seems like the least of peoples’ worries.”

Matilda’s heard about some of the recent misfortune to befall the island. That’s why they’re here, anyway. Not long ago, a yong woman was apparently murdered. News hadn’t got back to the mainland for quite awhile. Long enough that some distant relatives had (for reasons behooving their own standing or not) gotten in contact with the press.

Matilda and Nomi had intercepted the tip to the editor just a day before Benji had texted with the story himself.And both of course agreed they could do more with their (not always legally obtained) resources and less stuffy ethics than some small town paper. More spread on the internet, anyway. And according to Saha, their views weren’t bottled, they maintained a good engagement ratio, and even their long form content was largely watched start-to-finish.

They weren’t the news, but if the news wasn’t covering some young woman’s incredibly mysterious murder in a small isolated community, then maybe the news was shit.

Judging from how long it takes Nomi to end her conversation when they finally arrive on the island, Matilda will need to be keeping a sharper eye on the captain.

She lets her have a bit of time, naturally.

She watches as Nomi gets tucked between him, the awning of the cabin door, and the strong gusts of wind. To think that he’d said it was eighty degrees that same morning seems like a joke. Matilda glares at his fuzzy head; he can’t see Nomi’s face, but his is right there. And she has to admit, there’s a distinctly good-boy charm when that grin comes out, creasing his cheeks and bringing out a divot on one side. To his credit, he seems completely enraptured by whatever Nomi says to him.

She almost feels bad interrupting, it’s so cute.

“Noms.” Matilda calls over the sound of the waves lapping against boats, the screech of birds who she very much would like not to shit on her coat. “Please.”

At first, Nomi only reaches behind her back and flaps a hand dismissively. When Matilda calls out again, she shoots a petrifying glare over her shoulder. Don’t make me do it, babe, Matilda thinks at the back of her head. She watches as the wind pulls at the cute little black beret Nomi’d selected for their trip. The captain catches it, his palm covering the back of her head. Over the sounds of the pier, Matilda hears the sharp, flustered snort of a laugh from her best friend. Mournfully, she decides drastic measures must be taken.

“Noms. I would really like to go inside somewhere warm, please.” She taps her foot, crosses her arms, and sighs. “Or I guess we can recount the Cabo case? With that crooked five-star resort manager and the hidden cameras? And the seafood restaurant followed by margaritas followed by you talking enthusiastically about wanting to—“

Nomi reaches her just in time, going up to her tiptoes to slap a gloved hand over Matilda’s mouth. It’s lucky she does, because the rest of the sentence comes out absolutely unfiltered.

They’re staying in a small two-story off the east side of the island. It’s a quieter, less densely packed portion of lush dry grass. Maybe a hundred yard down to the lapping water. The beach beyond is partially rock, partially coarse gray sand. Everything about Innsmouth seems gray, to Matilda. The sky, the clouds, the dirt. Peoples’ clothing seemed to be more subdued. She figured that was because it was all built for purpose and utility rather than looks, but Christ. A good emerald green wouldn’t do any of the homely islanders harm, for fuck’s sake.

They’re splitting the second story bedroom. It’s not a quality rental, just a fistful of cash handed to the traveling scholar who occupies the entire downstairs. Warm, though, and the view out onto the ocean isn’t totally awful. She’d rather be in Cabo.

Nomi scoffs when she shares that thought aloud. “Well, right, wouldn’t we all? S’fine though babe. We’ll get the mum’s side and some pictures. See if Benji can’t get us a bit of an inside scoop, and all’s done.” She snaps, blows on her fingers, and then makes a tiny firework in her air. She looks so cute doing it that Matilda pauses from her unpacking and strides over to take her face.

“You are so out of that guy’s league. Run away with me, forget him, we’ll get eloped for tax benefits.” Matilda smolders at her dramatically, lip between her teeth. “I can show you the world, girl.”

Nomi accepts the kisses laid over her cheeks and forehead with stuttering laughter, swatting and elbowing at Matilda until she’s freed.

Their good mood sours quickly.

The dead girl’s mother looks six feet under herself. Her straw colored hair is in a more-than-messy bun. It frizzes out of a tie that looks tangled. Her eyes are puffy and yet sunken into her face at the same time. And she tries to smile when she opens the door, but looking between Nomi and Matilda must do something to her. Her face crumples almost instanaously, tears springing to her eyes.

“Oh. The reporters?” Her hands wring in front of her chest, then lift to press to her cheeks. “Oh, goodness. You’re both so lovely. My God, just about her age.”

Nomi, largely incredibly uncomfortable with strangers’ displays of emotion, steps slightly towards Matilda. Their shoulders brush, their fingers intertwine and squeeze. Please take this one.

“Yes, Mrs. Laun. I’m Rachel and this is Jen. We’re with the North Star Tribune? We spoke on the phone.” Matilda steps over the threshold, reaching for the grieving woman’s hands. “Oh my gosh, I just — I-I know this probably isn’t professional, but I’m so sorry for your loss.”

As Matilda leads her towards the sitting room and a threadbare couch, Nomi follows on the outskirts of the interaction. She stands next to a bookcase in the corner rather than join what is quickly becoming a hug circle.

“The fact that you even know about my Sarah is comforting.” She sniffles. “We’ve gotten nothing from them up here. Those fucking — oh, goodness. I’m sorry. I really— no. You know what? No, I do mean it. Fuck Harrison. Fuck the rest of them. You want to hear about it? I’ll tell you what really happened after they found her.”

Matilda and Nomi share a glance, eyebrows raised. Nomi pulls her phone out to record, and Matilda retrieves her notepad and fuzzy-topped pink pen.

An hour later, they stand in the center of Sarah’s room. Mrs. Laun closes the door behind them, goes to ‘start another kettle’. Matilda can hear her crying in the kitchen through the door.

“Okay. Can I be real?”

“Please.” Nomi says, her big eyes shiny as they scan circles around the room. Neither of them move.

“This is creepy.” Matilda says, hand raised to gesture loosely at the dolls ringing the top of Sarah’s room. They’re all sorts — knit, stuffed, felt, porcelain. She hates every single one of their faces.

Nomi is the first to step further in. She goes immediately to the desk, where a pile of college schoolwork and snack wrappers are scattered.

“It’s weird. But kinda cool. She obviously knew what she liked and owned it.” Nomi says. She retrieves a tiny thumb drive from her sleek camera bag and plugs it into Sarah’s laptop.

“You still kind of suck for selling data of victims.”

“I comb through it for anything really personal!” Nomi whispers defensively. “And keep your voice down. I don’t want that poor woman to know she has a couple of charlatans under her roof.”

Matilda crosses to the armoire. It looks like an antique, but someone — probably Sarah— has painted over the beautiful wood with a raspberry red. It’s chipping in several places, stained by makeup and other mysterious products in others.

“She’s got one of those little— oh, look. Cute.” Matilda points to a display of pretty gemstones, a few vases, a chalice and incense holder. “She did like the witchy stuff. Hope this isn’t a karma-counterhex-rule of three bites you in the ass sort of situation.”

“Matilda.” Nomi admonishes. “The girl’s dead.”

She holds up her hands. “I’m just sayin’. It’s definitely not real, but I’m not fucking with it anyway.”

And despite their commentary as they pick through Sarah’s room for clues, they do stay respectful. It goes unspoken, but lingers in the air between them; the girl’s dead. Her youthfulness lingers in every corner. The stuffed animals on her bed, one of which looks like a teddy Nomi’s had for ages. The stack of journals and sketchbooks on her nightstand, which looks eerie similar to Matilda’s own with its myriad of half-finished water bottles.

The girl’s dead, but not here. They’re standing in a room that bursts to the brim with energy, with the remnants of life. It’s harrowing to piece together what a girl Sarah Laun was — and the sort she wouldn’t grow to be. Privately, as she scans the titles of several books on monsters and art and queer cinema, Matilda thinks they might have gotten along in another life. It makes her sad to think about, so she turns to pick through the nightstand. Nomi can’t see the little tear that she swipes off her cheek, that way.

“She liked reading.”

“Nerd.” Matilda says, thumbing through a stack of loose-leaf notebook paper. In the back of a drawer is a pink stashbox. Immature, but probably the only one Sarah had ever used. Matilda holds onto a few things from her teenage years, too. And just that other point of camaraderie shared between a dead girl and one still breathing is enough to make her pause, address the stab of pain in her chest.

“Should we take this before mom finds it?”

Nomi glances up from the monitor, where she’s already cracked the login. Her reading glasses are perched on her nose, even though she sits about six inches from the blue glow anyway.

“Wassit, just weed?” She smiles softly. “Nah, leave it. Give her a few years and it’ll be a nice, oh that little shit moment for her, yeah?”

Matilda does put it back, but not before lifting one of the pre rolls within. “Tonight for Sarah?”

Nomi rolls her eyes and goes back to her work, but she shrugs.

Tonight for Sarah.

Later that night, just as the clock’s about to hit one a.m., Matilda shoots upright from her prone position on the floor. Her brown eyes are red-rimmed, lids heavy, but they widen into massive pools of shock when the contents of the page. It’s not handwriting or doodles or poorly spaced sad-girl poetry in typewriter font. No — the packet Matilda holds in her hands is printed on heavy, expensive-feeling paper. There’s a logo in the top left corner, but no company name. And the stark red word stamped on the front reads: CONFIDENTIAL. FOR AUTHORIZED INDIVIDUALS ONLY.

“Oh, that little shit.” She breathes, and pats across the floor to wake Nomi’s snoring heap under the blanket.

Sarah had been nice enough to include a hand drawn map to her stakeout location. Matilda almost doesn’t believe what she’s reading in the report — about the offshore drilling operation four miles off the island to the south. Well. That’s what Matilda pieces together from the document, at least. Entire paragraphs have been blacked out, entire pages, but the bare bones of the truth are there. Somehow, Sarah had become aware of something happening off the island. Something that she was obviously concerned with enough to have a stack of stolen confidential paperwork. And something she was worried enough about — secretive enough about — that she had to hide its existence. From who?

“Why wouldn’t she tell someone?”

“Tell who?” Nomi scoffs. “The ugly cop with bad facial hair? You know these kinds of places have one bar.” She lifts a hand and twines her fingers together. “I bet they’re tight like this.”

“You’re not wrong, but still.” Matilda shakes the lock, staring up at the window above. Sarah’s stakeout location is an abandoned barn near the south side of the island. About a ten minute walk in the dead of night chill. “If something scummy is going on, why not get the EPA involved? Why not make the town aware?” She shakes her head. “It’s gotta be something good.”

“Or something really, really bad. Do you think we’re stupid for being out here this late alone?” Nomi asks, rubbing gloved hands up and down her arms. “I think that —“

“Fucker!” Matilda yells, tossing the lock against the door. “What kind of dork thinks to lock it? Like, just make it easy for me for once!”

“Try 4-2-0.”

“No.” Matilda says with a shake of her head. “I refuse to tarnish her reputation like that.”

And yet the lock clicks open.

Inside Sarah’s makeshift investigatory headquarters is…really nothing of note. There’s a sleeping bag in the far corner, a fishing pole propped under the window, and a pair of purple slip-on sandals near the tiny cast-iron stove. Sarah was a resourceful girl. Clever. Matilda doesn’t want to think about the fact that her shoes are still here. She hasn’t read the autopsy report yet— she doesn’t want to know if she was found without shoes.

Knelt down by the sleeping bag, Matilda brushes aside the cover to find a copy of a smutty romance novel. The cover showcases a short-haired lady knight cradling one equally armored with long tendrils of golden braids.

Her heart twists. Poor fucking kid.

“There’s a lockbox up here. Real intricate thing — like a puzzle?” Nomi peeks her head over the loft. “Spiders were guarding it. Nearly pissed myself. “

“Throw it down. I’m not fucking with this, though. I’ve seen enough Hellraisers.”

Nomi carefully climbs down the ladder, stumbling on the last rung. Matilda catches her and inspects the wooden box. There are several indents and grooves in the polished carvings. Sigils and markings that she doesn’t recognize, maybe letters in another language.

“We could ask Dr. Sullivan about that.” Nomi says, pointing at the unfamiliar writing. “But there’s also a keyhole on that side, so I figure we could just find that.”

“Dr. Sullivan?”

Nomi stares at her. “Matilda. The professor? We’re renting her spare room!”

Truthfully, the professor hadn’t pulled her attention enough to interact. Dark haired and moody, communicating to Matilda in monosyllables or a scowl when they’d first arrived. She doesn’t think they introduced themselves at all.

“Oh, right. Well. We should head back anyway — “

A great, ear-splitting noise cracks open the air. She has no word to describe it. Not a horn or a siren or a roar, even. But some terrible earth-deep noise. Something that rattles the thin windowpanes and shakes the floor beneath their feet. Matilda shrieks and slaps her hands to her ears. When she looks frantically at Nomi, she’s done the same. A little trickle of blood touches the corner of her mouth, the delicate red rivulet sourced from a flaring nostril. Matilda touches a finger underneath her own. It comes back slick and red.

“What the fuck was that?” She hisses, palming her forehead in an attempt to minimize the throbbing of her head. “Nomi, are you alright?”

“Are you? You’ve a nose bleed, babe. What—“

The noise again. They yell and clutch each other, stumbling with the force of the earthquake. At least, Matilda figures that’s what it must be. She’s never experienced one, but isn’t it textbook? The shaking earth, the strange drone far-off as if her body knows the horrible alien sound of tectonic plates shifting.

The sick teal light that filters in through the windows, that circles to a purple then gold and back — a whole display of colors so vibrant her eyes burn even looking at their washed-out refraction on the walls of the barn.

“What the fuck was that? An explosion off the coast?”

Nomi stares up at her, eyes wet and terrified. Her sharp nails have dug into Matilda’s forearm hard enough to draw blood.

“I do not want to fucking be here anymore, Matilda.”

Matilda stares at her. For one awful moment, she’s frozen. Her feet don’t move, her fingers don’t twitch. Even the breath feels caught in her chest — not internal, but like something is squeezing her in place. Keeping her still. Matilda thinks of a fisher’s lure, bobbing in the water, and nearly sobs.

All at once, she breaks the strange spell of shock. Shakes it from her like a wet dog. Matilda nods frantically, clutches at Nomi, and her feet begin to move.

Whatever Sarah Laun discovered, whatever she was aware of, whatever she’d been watching? It could wait until morning. It can wait until they’ve found someone to tell, until they have reinforcements. Until they’re not out here, alone, in the cold air surrounding Innsmouth.

#writing #ua #nw #mmr #mgc #innsmouth au

0 notes

undertheashtree · 2 years ago

Text

All Because I Saw a Purple Tree.

I’ve recently struggled through a large creative block, and waiting for my normal stream of ideas and creativity to begin flowing again has been a bit disheartening. About a week ago, I was driving around, running errands, and trying to come up with a new idea for a BYOP (build your own palette). As soon as I told myself to stop trying to force it, and that inspiration would come when it was supposed to, a beautiful little sight came up on my right. A tree with what appeared to be plum colored leaves (which I’ve since learned might be called an Eastern Redbud, but I’m not totally sure), settled between two trees with dark green leaves, captured my attention. It felt so wonderfully autumnal compared to bright blue sky and overbearing sun, and I knew at that moment that my next palette needed to be plum and green.

And, of course, it’s beautifully grungy. I wanted only plums and greens in this one, no blues, no neutrals, just those two, gorgeous, contrasty colors. Notably, there aren’t any light or pastel mattes in here either, and the lightest shade is a metallic lime green (top right).

Making this palette also made me realize that, while I don’t wear my multichrome eyeshadows all that often, I do reach for them a lot when building my own palettes, especially ones with contrasting colors. It’s an easy way to bridge the gap between the colors I’m working with, and multichromes can be incredibly versatile.

There’s not much to explain with this one, but I’ll try to give some more insight into my thought process.

Black Hyacinth (bottom left) is a black with plum undertones, and before I even sat down to make this palette, I knew this would be the first thing to go in. Most black eyeshadows tend to lean neutral or cool-toned, so having a plummy, warm-undertone black is nice for a palette like this. It works best with warmer toned shadows when blending, but I find it’s black enough, and the warmth is subtle enough, that it can work with other colors like green.

I essentially built the rest of the palette around Black Hyacinth, which is definitely the backbone of the palette, given it’s the most versatile thing in the palette. The reason it’s the most versatile is mainly for it’s depth (making it useful for deepening different kinds of looks, as an eyeliner, and/or for detail work), but it can work with the plums or greens in the palette, and as pairing or base for the black-based multichrome in the palette.

Speaking of the multichrome, Nirvana (middle row, last shade) shifts from a couple shades of green, blue, and silver. Depending on the angle, I can also see some warm purple, but that’s really dependent on the lighting and the angle. The dominant colors are definitely the greens and the warm silver, which I feel compliments both the greens and plums in the palette.

For the rest of the matte shades, my main priority was being able to create a blend with either the plums or greens. So I went with a dark matte of each color that was lighter than Black Hyacinth, and then an additional, slightly lighter shade to accompany that.

For the metallics, I wanted to keep them dark, and kind of grungy. Dress Up (center), is a really grungy plum with gold, green, and orange glitter, and Nightsky (bottom row, middle shade) is a blackened green with green, blue, and gold glitter. The last shade I chose was Prismatic (top row, last shade). I honestly didn’t know what to use to finish this color story, but I wanted it to be a 9-pan, so I decided to go with something light that I could potentially use to highlight or just brighten up a look. Prismatic has a lime green base that shifts pink and blue. Normally, it’s too pigmented for me to use as a highlight on my fair skin, but I’m wondering if the brightness of it will contrast off the darkness of the palette to be an effective highlight.

As always, I’ll leave you with some swatches (including a video I took that allows you to see the shifts in Nirvana) and a list of the eyeshadow names (along with their palettes, if any) which are written in order from left to right, top to bottom, according to the pallete.

Top row: Ego - Sugarpill single Forest - Beauty Bay Wilderness palette Prismatic - J.D. Glow single

Middle row: Speakeasy - Beauty Bay Age of Opulence palette Dress Up - Blend Bunny The Dollhouse palette Nirvana - Chaos Makeup single

Bottom row: Ivy - Beauty Bay Wilderness palette Nightsky - Dose of Colors Block Party single Black Hyacinth - Ace Beaute Floral Vintage palette

Here’s a link to my YouTube channel as well, if you want to see more from me!

#build your own palette #building my own palettes #byop #singles #makeup #cosmetics #beauty #eyeshadows #eyeshadow #palette #palettes

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bemystargirl · 2 years ago

Text

𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐌𝐁 — 01

𝗜𝗡 𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗛 Vivian Perez, A hair dye fanatic , low rise jean lover and with dead lungs finds herself fucked up in Sean Diaz's drama. Now her, Sean and his little brother Daniel try to travel to Puerto Lobos.

warning; sexual references smoking violence swearing slight racism

“See you tonight! Don’t be late, losers!” Lyla shout waiting for Vivian to finish giving everyone fist bumps before jumping off the bus, the black converse squishing the green grass under her feet as she runs after Sean and Lyla, a arm going round Lyla's shoulder.

“Are you two going or am I going to have to hang out with just one of you?” Lyla looked at them, Viv readjusts her forest green beanie, which horribly muted down her hot pink hair before speaking.

"Duh, I never miss a party." Vivian scoffed at Lyla's stupid question before Sean spoke up.

“I don’t even know if I wanna go tonight..” Sean shrugged making the two girls twist their head.

“Oh please. It’s gonna be fun! You hate every party.” Lyla whined at Sean, Viv nodded in agreement stuffing her hand left hand into the pocket of her Demin jeans.

“They’re all the same. Too many people, too fucking loud, everbody’s wasted.” Lyla and Vivian a little frustrated.

“You just described…a party!” Vivian chimed in, letting a small chuckle pass her cracked lips.

Sean ignores her sarcastic comments, rolling his eyes, his hands dig into his pants to check his phone. “It’s dad. Wants to know if I’m coming home after school. Jeez, I’m not a ten year old…” Viv looked at the ground.

“He just cares about you.” Lyla adds “You should be happy your dad’s looking out for you.”

The three of them continue to walk back together quietly, the air whistled passed her, brushing her brightly coloured hair, pinking her ear.

“So what should I wear tonight?” Viv looks at Sean, moving her arm away from Lyla as she responds

“A condom.”

Lyla chuckled as Sean scoffed

“Alright I’m in. Paying plenty of attention in Sex Ed class, I see…” Vivian jokingly punching his arm, making him push her softly, she laughed.

“Hey, lovebirds! Back from the loony bin?” Brett asked sitting on his porch, her smile dropped.

Lyla shouts back “Shut the fuck up, dickhead!” he flipped them off.

"Puta.." Viv mumbled under her breath, loud enough for Sean and Lyla to hear her making Sean nudge her with his elbow and Lyla snigger.

“Damn, your neighbor’s an asshole.” Lyla added making Viv's smile grow

“Yup. Always true to himself.” Sean nodded.

Lyla and Sean sat on the steps of his porch, Viv sat on the fence, her legs kicking the air in front of her occasionally grazing Sean's back.

“Man…We need to find a couch for your yard one day.” Lyla groaned, pulling out a pack of cigarettes.

“Oooh careful…Last time my dad almost busted me out here…” Sean's eyes grazed over the pack in her hands as Vivan blew raspberries.

"That's just 'cause you were alone, Your dad wouldnt bust us he loves us." Viv used her foot to nudge Lyla.

"So…you both want a hit or not?” She lifted up the open pack offering one, Vivian shrugged taking one as she shoved her hand down her jean pocket trying to dig out her lighter.

“Nah. Maybe at the party. Track stars aren’t supposed to smoke, ya know…” Sean shook his head 'no'

“Yeah, sure. I’ll remember this when you’re begging for a spliff tonight…” Lyla scoffed twisting in her seat to let Viv light her cig for her.

“Speaking of weed…I got that covered tonight. What else do we need? Eric said his parents don’t leave shit at the cabin so…we better make an official party list…”

She takes out a sharpie from her backpack, grabs Sean’s hand and started writing. Sean a little confused, filches away from her writing "Hey whoa, what the hell are you doing?"

Lyla tells him "Don’t move! You’re my human post-it note. First we need money for supplies…munchies…chips n’ dip…soda…et cetera…"

He says "This better wash off!" Viv scoffed tugging at his beanie

"Oh, shush.." Lyla ignores the banter and continues writing

"And of course, we must not forget…ZE BOOZE!!!" Viv chuckled taking his slightly paler hand into hers as she reads the list.

"I can probably snag a six-pack from dad if he’s got enough. Hey, did you ever think of maybe…just…sending a text instead?” Sean looked up at Viv, her brown eyes moved from his hand to him as she smirked

"Try not to think about it." She winked taking the cigarette out of her lips to blow the smoke out "I can ask Carl to bring some vodka, his dad stashes it somewhere in his house."

"Hmmm…Oh right! Blankets. It’s gonna get chilly tonight!…Oh, one last thing! C…O…N…D…O…” Lyla smirked as Viv let out a loud laugh, choking on the small amount of smoke in her lungs.

Aargh stop! You’re out of room, punk!” Vivian once again pulled his hand closer to read her eyes drifting to the small drawing of a dick in the corner.

"Is this how you see a penis? Damn, you should try and actually see one for real.” Vivian says

“You don’t wanna go down that road, dude. My chances of scoring tonight are probably…ten times yours.” Vivian raised a brow making Lyla laugh.

“These fucking planes, man…I wanna hate them, but…I’ll miss them so much if I move somewhere else. Shit changes so fast…I get so emo sometimes, wondering what’ll happen to us once we graduate. Will you both still be my BFFs? Will shit ever get better than 1452, Lame Avenue?” Vivian sighed listening to Lyla, letting go of Sean's hand she lifted her legs up fully to rest on the fence.

“Yeah, man. Friends forever.” Sean reassured her, Lyla wasn't convinced. “Yeah but…What happens if we go to different colleges? Or you two get sick of me? Whatever…”

"Dude, no way. There's a higher chance I get sick of Sean." Vivian shrugged as he turned around.

"Hey!" He slapped her shin making her giggled fighting his hands away.

“But for real, you heard of the Internet? No way distance can tear us apart. We’re freakin’ fighters!” Sean turned back to Lyla.

“Yeah, you’re right…Best freakin’ fighters forever…” Lyla stood up “OK, it’s getting way late and I gotta pick out my outfit for tonight, Viv, you coming?" Vivian shook her head

"Nah, I've got a few dresses somewhere in Sean's room." Vivian shrugged as Lyla winked dropping her cigarette to the floor, crushing it.

"Oh? Why are your dresses in his room?" She smirked, Viv scoffed letting her legs droop over again.

"Fuck you, Lyla." Vivian lifted up her middle finger, not noticing Sean's growing blush.

"Really? I thought we established Sean was the expert, ok, ok.. Skype later when you’re ready. Hugs!” Lyla hugged them

“Hello, Friday night…” Sean watches as Vivian pushes herself off the fence tossing her cigarette away.

Sean and Vivian heard laughter coming from the kitchen just as they walked inside His dad, Esteban says “Hey! Perfect timing! Just the person I wanted to see.”

Vivian smiled at him, setting her bag down beside Sean's.

"Nice change of hair, viv." Esteban watched her run a hand through her hair, her smile grew.

"Thanks, I got bored of the purple and orange." She shrugged, giving Daniel a high five.

“Did you see Lyla? She said we could go to the movies next week. She said…”

“Dude. Bug her, not me! You’re not exactly her type.” Sean groaned

“You’re lucky they put up with you…” Esteban says making Viv smile.

“Jeez, thanks pop. I feel really supported right now.” Sean raised his brows looking down at the floor.

“You’re welcome. And now we need an objective judge. That would be you!” “Really?” Sean asks. “Hey! No fair!” Daniel objects. “Shhhhh…Court is in session. Judge Diaz presiding over the case of the last Chock-O-Crisp.” Sean interrupts “We…we have to go…Uh…Get ready for a party and stuff.”

“Well if you want to attend a party and stuff…you have to earn it…your Honor.”

“Aww shit.” Sean grumbled, Vivian sitting on the kitchen counter waiting for him.

“Hey, he swore!” Daniel tugged on Viv's long sleeved ribbed top, she smirked.

“Yes, I heard, tattletale. Please Judge Diaz. Be an example to the court and society. Then you can go chill or…or…whatever! Now…Who deserves to eat this final…Chock-O-Crisp? Your adorable little brother who eats about ten bags a week…” Esteban tried to convince his eldest son, Viv chuckled. “Or your poor suffering father…who slaves over a hot engine to provide his family with a home and a garage?”

"Or.. your great and wonderful best friend who has to listen and deal with your problems 24/7?" Vivian moved closer to Daniel as she smiled ignoring Daniels protests.

“Me! Me! Me!” He shouted resting a hand on Viv's shoulder to leverage himself up. “Come on Judge…” He whined the three of them waiting for his response.

“Daniel is guilty of being a brat! So the Chock-O-Crisp goes to…Señor Diaz!” Viv groaned as the chock-o-crisp was handed to Esteban.

“What? No way! You’re a cheat!” Daniel grunted, Vivan nodded, her brows furrowed

"Yeah! No fair." She scoffed still grinning.

“Your Honor, I can’t let you punish an innocent man…So…” Esteban pushes the chock-o-crisp towards Daniel, Viv whooped with Joy for him.

“Yeah, I always knew you’d confess.” Sean shook his head, making Vivian laugh.

“Okay. Back to work. I hear an engine calling my name…And you better play nice together…Like you always do…” Esteban waved them off, Viv turned her attention back to Daniel.

“I have to go work in my room too.” Daniel looked at Viv hopefully "You want to come with, Viv?" He tilted his head as she smiled.

"Maybe in a little, dan. I still have to deal with your annoying brother." Vivian smirked as Sean groaned, shoving her slightly.

Just before Daniel walked away, he punched Sean lightly in the stomach, sending Viv into bursts of laughter.

“Yeah, don’t hurry back.” Sean groaned holding his stomach, looking over at the pink haired girl. "You encourage him, you know." He chuckled as she rolled her eyes.

"Do I?" She winked, pushing herself off the counter going to the kitchen to check what they could bring. "Go talk to your brother." Vivian waved him off smiling at his constant groans but listened going off to her brothers room. Whilst she texted Carl to bring 'ZE BOOZE'

“Yes, she wants to marry you.” Sean said in a teasing voice, Viv sighed.

“Shut up! And I don’t care if I can’t go…because…because…I have secret stuff to do…Alone!” Daniel sounded embarrassed

Sean yells back “Of course you do.”

Daniel peaked out the door then shut it again.

"Your an asshole." Vivian scoffed, fake pouting, putting her phone into her pocket he shrugged. "Go get the blankets, I'll be in your room." Vivian pulled out the six-pack of beers crouching down in front of her backpack.

"Yes mother." He rolled his eyes as she let out a loud, sarcastic laugh.

Vivian sighs opening his bedroom door, she loved that room. The trophies, the posters, his work uniform hung up on his wardrobe, The skateboard, Viv gifted him a few years back, she tried her very best to teach him... he's just a shitty student.. Viv's fingers ran over his old sketch book. She crouched down to pull out the box of her party clothes under his desk, a large label messily written probably by Sean, guessing from the writing, was on it 'Viv's party shit' her father was either too busy working to realise she was out partying, or too over-protective to let her out, she kept most of her more revealing clothes at Lyla's or Sean's house to avoid getting the belt from her mother. She heard the door open a close behind her.

"si no es el pendejo hermano." Viv teased, not bothering to turn around to face him, he just scoffed slumping down on his bed.

"I thinking... Mini Demin skirt." Vivian begun, throwing her skirt over to Sean letting his land somewhere on his lap. "..black tank top." She threw her top at him. "and... matching pink bra." She winked throwing her matching playboy panty and bra, he blushed furiously as he caught her bra.

"Wha-? When did you even bring this here!" He groaned pushing her clothes into a pile on the end of his bed, her bright pink bra on top as she laughed.

"Nothin' you aint seen before, nena."

." She teased, jokingly groping her boobs before she pushed her box back under his desk. "I wore it to Chris' party a few months back, I was wasted so I crashed here."

“Must be Lyla...” Sean grunted pulling out his phone, Viv was resting her head on his lap, reading some book of his small shelf, she moved away as he sat up, moving to his laptop.

“Hola, lovebirds…Just give me a minute! Gee, where did I put the…Hold on! Okay, hi! Did you get everything on your hand-list?” Viv rolled her eyes from his bed at the stupid nickname Brett gave them.

“It’s all in our backpacks, yeah. Daddy hooked me up with some cash, so…we’re set for the night. In case we need anything else…” Sean shrugged leaning back in his seat.

"Or incase if you and Vivian need anything else…Ooh la la!” Lyla winked, Sean went silent, his ears turning pink.

"Shut up, Lyla." Viv laughed, raising her voice so Lyla could hear her, Lyla's eyes widened from the camera as she stared at Sean.

“Sean, Sean! I’m done, look! I made zombie blood! It’s…um…corn syrup and food coloring…Hey! Hi Lyla!” Daniel smiled, bursting through Sean's door wearing a zombie mask.

“Get out of my room, Daniel.” Sean sighed, Viv closed the book she was reading.

“I was just…” His enthusiasm left his body."

“Come on, man!” Sean ignored how upset he looked.

“Just…” He continued looking down at the floor, Vivian frowned.

“Just bugging the shit out of me again after I told you to knock? Yeah, I know.” Daniel closed the door. Sean twisted round in his seat.

“Anyway…” he continued rubbing his neck

"What the fuck, Sean?" Viv groaned, leaving his room to follow after Daniel.

“Sean, you’re an asshole! What’s your problem?” Lyle scolded him, he sighed. "Well done, Im sure Vivian wants to get with a total douchebag." Lyla rolled her eyes.

"But…" he looked over at the brownish green box under his bed decorated with stickers, Viv's box.

"I want to see his zombie blood if you don’t…" Lyla cut him off.

“Sorry, sorry…I’ll make it up to him…He knows I can be a dick…I’m just stressed out about tonight…” He spoke up looking back up at Lyla "And we both already knew she wasn't going to get with me."

Lyla smiled. “Oh please…we are gonna have so much fun! Maybe tonight’s the night…" She winked at him "I saw the way she blushed when you pushed her and shit."

"Im pretty sure thats just cause its freezing outside." He corrected her as she 'psssh'-ed him. “Okay…So when are you coming over?”

Lyla says “I just have to hit up the Momster for the car keys and…hope she doesn’t make me lie too much about the party…I’m already in trouble from last time…”

“I didn’t mean to! Stop! Don’t touch it! It’s for Halloween! Leave me alone! I’ll call my dad!” Daniel shouted from outside the window, Viv pushed him behind her as she defended him.

"It was a fucking accident, give it a break Brett!" Viv yelled back, A hand on Dan's shoulder keeping him back.

"I wasn't talking to you, Slut." Brett growled, trying to push her away, she slapped his arm away.

“Hold on, okay? Something’s going on outside…” Sean's brows furrowed as he stood up from his seat.

“What do you mean? Hey!” Lyla asked as Sean went outside.

Brett was holding onto Vivian's arm as he shouted at the both of them, Viv moved her hand from Daniel to Brett attempting to push him back, her hand balled up his shirt as she kept pushing him away.

“What’s the big deal? It’s Halloween!” Daniel shouted from behind Viv.

“Hey! Don’t ever touch her!” Sean pushed him off Vivian, She sighed letting him go before going to check on Daniel. “You hear me, Brett?”

“Fuck you, Diaz! He got his fake blood shit all over my shirt…Look!” He pointed to the mess, Viv and Dan accidently created.

"Get over it, douche, it was an accident!" Vivian scoffed from where she stood.

"You shut up, fuckin' whore!" He tried to grab her again, but Sean stopped him.

“I told you it was an accident! You better leave us alone!” Daniel yelled.

“Oh yeah, go hide in your dad’s garage! Pussies! You think you own the block!” Brett snapped at them, Viv rolled her eyes.

“Dude, step back! He didn’t mean it, he’s a fucking kid!” Vivian shouted at him.

"Your just as bad, Perez. You might as well be a fucking tramp, 'puta' " He grunted, mocking her accent.

"The fuck did you just say to me?" Vivian took a step closer, moving away from Daniel, Sean stood in the way of them.

“You heard me, bitch…” Brett scoffed, Viv's brows furrowed with frustration.

“Don’t ever touch her again!” Sean warned, pushing Vivian away.

“Or what? You gonna get your daddy?” Brett laughed, a smirk on his lips.

“Hey asshole! I don’t need him, to protect me from you!” Sean tells him, Brett lets out a snigger, before shoving him.

“Oh? You wanna go?!” He shouted back at him before he shoved him back.

"Sean!" Vivian yelled, looking back to Daniel for a second.

“Oh yeah, motherfucker?!” Brett crossed the line “Then go back to your own country.”

Sean punched him, Brett let out a cough before he tackled Sean to the ground.

"Sean!" Viv yelled, linking hands with Daniels, she tried to pull him away, he didn't move, sirens flash by as the car stopped.

“Okay…okay, step away! Now!” The officer spoke, Vivian lifted up her hands, letting Daniels go, Brett lay on the ground gasping for air, slight blood splattered on his face, his hands going to his stomach.

“Calm down, officer.” Sean's hands shook slightly

“Shut up! And step back!” The three of us back away from Brett. The officer pulls out his gun and points it at us. He commands “On the ground, Now!” Sean says

“Hey, wait…This guy was…beating up my little brother!”

"Sir, he was!" Vivian added, fear struck on her face.

"He started it!" Daniel looked like Viv, fearful.

"On the ground, Now!" The officer yelled at them, Vivian whimpered.

"Sean-!" Daniel cried out as they got onto the ground.

“This is fucking bullshit!” Sean added looking at the officer as he checked Brett.

"Mierda, mierda santa…" Vivian mumbled under her breath staring at the grass under her knees.

The officer moved the gun to Esteban, Their heads twisted round to look at him.

“Sean, what’s happening?” Esteban asked, Sean's mouth opened to speak but no words came out.

“Get on the ground, sir!” The officer shouted at him, gun still in his hands.

“Dad! We didn’t do anything, I swear…” Sean finally spoke up, all Viv could do was nod in agreement.

“Sean, be quiet…Officer, listen…” Esteban spoke calmly, the officer continued to shout.

“Shut up!” He screamed at him, Daniel and Vivian flinched at his words.

“I’m sorry, dad!” Daniel cried again Vivian went to comfort him, her hands still in the air.

“Be quiet! They’re good kids, officer.” Esteban looked at the four them on the floor and back at the officer.

“Don’t move!”

“We didn’t do anything…!” Vivian yelped from the floor.

“Daniel, it’s gonna be alright.” Esteban tried to comfort him as the officer swung the gun between them.

The sharp ringing, continued to deafen Vivian, Her hands going to her ears as the bullet shot out, Her eyes went to Esteban on the floor.

"Shit-" The officer spoke out, lowering his gun.

A large rumble started again, Viv woke up on her back. The officer was dead on the road, Sean was sobbing over Esteban's body, blood gushing out of the wound in his chest. "Oh fuck!" Sean yelled, The police car was flipped over, the fire hydrants were leaking, everything around them was a mess.

"Sean-" Vivian coughed out her hands resting on his shoulders, her eyes going to the unconscious Daniel on the gras.

"Sean, we have to go!" Viv pulled him away from Esteban, Vivian sighed as she went inside, shoving her clothes and the beers into her bag, she returned to Sean still sobbing with his unconscious brother in his arms.

puta , prostitute

si no es el pendejo hermano , if it isn't the asshole brother

nena , babe

Mierda mierda santa , holy shit holy shit

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echoghost1 · 3 years ago

Text

Black Hole Son

Summary: The ever-elusive Phantom was finally caught and the scientist couldn't wait to see what secrets the ghost kept inside. Unfortunately, they were going to get more than they bargained for.

Characters: Nameless Scientists & Danny Phantom

Word Count: 1,518

You can read on AO3 or down below the cut!

Each cut had been made with practiced precision. The skin pinned back with textbook perfection.

The rib bones were even cut apart to give the doctor easy access, even if they weren't expected in the specimen.

The doctor sighed as they looked inside the open body cavity and found another surprise. "Why are ghosts so weird," they asked rhetorically.

"Are you asking or just making a personal note?" The doctor's assistant asked.

The doctor sighed again, "making notes. Since there is an audio recording I'll note exactly what makes this ghost so odd."

The doctor picked up the previously discarded rib cage and turned it in their hand as they spoke, "not only did I have to use a bone saw, but the bones are an unusual color. Pitch black. At first glance, I thought they were charred but they aren't flaking or even dusty. Almost as if they were meant to be this way." The ribs are set back into the tray before the doctor turned back to the body on the table.

"Now onto the inside of the ghost. Which also appears to hold even more surprises." The doctor stared pointedly at the body and frowned, "where do I even start?"

The doctor's assistant came closer and peaked inside, "Oh, that is weird."

"I'm not sure what's throwing me off more," the doctor started, "is it them being there, or is it the colors?"

"Honestly it's the color for me. I could see an argument for the organ's existence as a way to perpetuate his play at being human, but why go the extra step with the colors?"

"Yeah, I suppose if they were all green it would be less weird."

"This one is certainly going to be memorable."

"You know what? I think I know why this is pissing me off so much. Granted we don't know why it's like this, but the color-coded organs are reminding me of a children's anatomy kit. It's like it knew we were going to open it up and it wants to make sure we put it back together correctly. That's just insulting! As if I didn't go to medical school."

"I don't think that's the reason."

"Yeah, you're probably right. This ghost hasn't shown that much foresight before."

The doctor's assistant chuckled at the jab at the unconscious ghost's expense.

"I suppose we better catalog these ghost guts."

The pair double-check their gloves, goggles, and masks are adjusted probably before returning their attention to the ghost.

"It appears that all organs you'd expect in a human are here and are in the appropriate places and sizes. The difference, as already noted, is the coloration. I suppose I'll start with the intestines. They are two shades of purple. The small intestine is lighter than the large. The stomach is bright orange but is slightly less of an eyesore compared to the hot pink of the liver." The doctor lifted the stomach to note the kidneys but stopped short.

"Is everything alright?" The assistant asked as they lean forward.

"Something is moving in here."

The assistant flinched at the statement but waited for further instructions.

“Scalpel.”

The assistant nodded and handed the tool to the doctor.

The doctor carefully lifted the stomach a little higher so they could sever the organ from the body only to find the instrument is unneeded.

The stomach broke free with hardly any resistance at all. As if it wasn’t attached to anything and merely resting in place.

Once the doctor recovered from the shock of the incredibly easy organ removal, they got back to work. The stomach is set in the sterile tray and held firmly as the scalpel is dragged across the flesh.

The doctor set the scalpel aside so they can pry open the organ. Once the flesh is pulled apart far enough, six ectoplasmic green butterflies flew out.

"You know, I think I hit my threshold for surprise. Of course, there are literal butterflies in the stomach. Why not?"

“Should I capture the butterflies?”

The doctor tossed the scalpel into the tray with the stomach. “Yeah go for it, “ then they pointed to the body, “I’m going to finish cataloging this.”

The doctor refocused on the ghost and listed the rest of the organs and their colors. “And finally we have the heart. Green, and unlike the rest of the organs, this is not anatomically correct. It looks like a children’s version of a heart. ” The doctor sighed, “Also, the heart looks like it’s been broken, but still appears to be in one piece.”

The doctor checked to see that their assistant is done wrangling up the little ghost butterflies and waved them over.

“I want to take a closer look at the heart.” the doctor explained as the assistant approached. “It has a crack in it and I want to see if it goes all the way through or not.”

“Are those band-aids?” the assistant asked once they are close enough to the table.

“Yeah, there’s two crisscrossed over each other and another larger one over here too. The band-aids are different colors.” The doctor noted as they reach inside to pick up the heart. ”The pair has one yellow and one purple and the other one is teal.”

Then the doctor hesitated again.

“What is it doctor? More movement?”

“No. It’s just this feels different.” the doctor gently squeezed the heart before continuing, “the stomach felt like I had expected but this doesn't feel like a heart. This feels softer? It feels plush. Like a toy.”

“I have so many questions.” the assistant admitted.

“You and me both. Usually, I’m able to get all my answers from opening them up, but not this one.” They say as they go to remove the heart but they end up being stopped as the organ doesn't come free as easily as the stomach had.

The doctor slowly looks up to the assistant, “I think there’s something else in here besides the heart. Feels almost like a marble, but ice cold.” the doctor slides their hand out of the body cavity and grabs the scalpel. “Oh I know what this is!” The doctor grins as they line up their instrument, “go over there and fetch one of the sample jars with the purified ectoplasm. Keep your hand on the opening, but don’t open it until I tell you. That stuff doesn't last long in an oxygen-rich environment.”

The assistant quickly follows their orders and is back in place in no time at all, “ready when you are.”

“I’ll make the incision here and I should be able to pull it out. These things aren’t generally attached to anything.” The doctor continued to speak as they worked, cutting the heart open along the crack and severing the band-aids that kept it together, “Which is honestly pretty surprising given how important this piece is to a ghost. You’d think they’d guard it better.”

The doctor reached into the heart and pulls out the object they had described. A large round orb, so cold that thick fog emanates from it like dry ice. The ghost’s core.

The assistant clicked the container open so the doctor could deposit the ghost’s icy core but the pair of scientists were interrupted by the very body they were currently dismantling.

The mist trailing off the core shifted into a darker and thicker mass that reached back towards the body.

The doctor tried to swat the ever-thicking mist away but it wrapped around their hands and brought them together like they were being handcuffed.

The doctor swore as their hands were forced towards the body again.

When the core, and by extension, the doctor’s hands, were merely inches away from the open heart what remained of the ribs slowly opened wider and unpinned the flesh as the torso contorted well beyond its normal size.

“I guess I spoke too soon.” the doctor said softly as they failed to free themself from the ghostly bindings.

Then they were dragged into the body faster than they could scream.

The assistant shook as they watched the nightmare unfold before them.

One of the ribs nearest the tray grew and twisted like a tree branch before it found the discarded stomach, stabbed it, and threw it back into the open body. Somehow the organ found its rightful place.

The assistant screamed as the extended rib reached towards them and pierced the containment unit they were still holding onto.

They let go immediately and let the ghost take the device. The ectoplasm leaked out and ran down the bone as far as it could before it dissipated.

The rib bone flicked the device off of itself before attacking again. This time it was reaching for the butterflies.

Unfortunately for the assistant, the rack that held the butterflies and several other ectoplasmic samples were directly behind them.

Ten minutes later all that was left in the room was broken glass, destroyed machinery, a blood-stained floor tile, and one unconscious ghost boy with a y-shaped incision on his chest that was slowly fading as it sealed itself shut.

#danny phantom #phan fic #dannymay #day 15 ghost biology #dissection #body horror #minor character death #but like the opening of a police procedural where you know something bad is about to happen to these people #also yeah the title isn't a typo it's a pun #also I open with the boi already opened #so get ready I guess #Happy this is my 100th dp fic on ao3!

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0risha · 4 years ago

Text

romanticism

pairing :: shinichiro x fem!reader

tags :: fluff, a curse word

a/n :: i was supposed to work on my geto fic like kiki said but i love shinichiro so much, saurrrrrrr...... I don't like the end at all but whatevs.

“did you know that there’s a difference between a petrol engine and a diesel engine? one uses spark plugs to ignite this thing called—”

“is this what i got all dressed up for?” at your words, shinichiro’s cheeks bloom with red, from embarrassment or your closeness, you’re not sure.

even though his eyes are still trained on the road ahead, he can practically envision your ones of amusement. his knuckles go white, the grip on his bike’s handlebars growing tense.

as a cover-up, he coughs up a light compliment, “y-you look nice.” but his voice is shaky, not reassuring at all. shinichiro inhales sharply as bile nearly rises in his throat.

he lets out a curse, his younger brother’s words echoing through his mind. you need to work on your game . . . at this rate, you’ll be single forever. a sharp pain cruises through his chest in remembrance.

even if it chipped at his pride, he couldn't deny the truth in mikey's words.

gosh, he really needed a cigarette.

unaware of his inner turmoil, you hum. "thank you, you do too." turning your attention towards the sky, you make the decision to tighten your arms around his torso.

the city's quickly spiraling into dusk, humidity still taking its reign. surprisingly, there's little to no cars filing through, the rev of shinichiro's bike more deafening than anything else.

"any destinations in mind?" you quirk up an eyebrow as the bike comes to a halt. a red light casts a shadow on his pale face. you study the slope of his nose, eyes trailing down to his lips. if he notices your lingering stare, he doesn't show it.

"i don't know, you're the one that asked me out on a date." red turns to green— the bike starts it's trek once again.

"that's true....." he takes a sharp turn and your heart nearly drops to your ass.

"give me a warning first!" annoyance and a sprinkle of fear simmer at the pit of your stomach but you have no choice but to press your body closer to his. he's oddly warm and smells like pine and motor oil.

"sorry." you know he doesn't mean it, his apology ending with a chortle. "if it makes you feel better, we're here."

you part from his back, eyes flitting across the scenery before you.

“i didn’t know we were this far from the city.” you marvel, voice catching in your throat.

“it’s nice, isn’t it?” he puts the bike into park and steps off. you nod, not even deterred as a pair of arms haul you up. as soon as your feet touch the ground, you’re running to get a closer look.

from above, shibuya looks like something straight out of a high-budget film. pink twilight from the sky clashed with the curve of buildings, people, and artificial lights. you can’t help but feel like you’ve been taken by the scruff of the neck and placed into a dream, one that you forget little by little because of its unrealistic canvas.

a spell of smoke breaks through your awe. a head turn and you’re confronted by shinichiro’s presence. he’s not that much taller than you, you both are practically nose to nose.

“is it alright if i smoke?” his eyes flit to you, a flame from his lighter swaying dangerously slow.

“nope.” you rock on the balls of your feet, anticipation for your own next words pulling a smirk from your lips.

he blanches. “oh... sor–”

“i want to kiss you first.” you watch his eyes nearly pop out of his sockets.

“like . . . right now?” he points, ears red. you nod.

you’re a short distance away, it’s enough to reach out and you do. you place a hand on his chest, your palm meeting with a terribly fast heartbeat.

you tip towards him and he catches you, his arms are tight and warm, built from his years of fixing bikes.

“thank you for bringing me here sano, it’s really pretty.” you watch as his dark eyes light up then shape into crescent moons as he smiles.

“glad that you liked it.” his eyes meet yours again, now with a pleading shine. you answer it by molding your lips against his. somehow, he pulls you even closer, almost like he wants for you to melt into him.

heartbeat to heartbeat, you taste the smoke on his tongue. though, it’s more pleasant than it should be. your hands map the unfamiliar planes of him, hoping to engrave it into your mind.

when time morphs and extends, your lungs signal at your joints to push away and find air. you listen with a sigh, peeling your lips away from his soft ones.

you both don’t say a thing. instead, shinichiro shadows his thumb across your cheek, the feather-light touch pinging at your heart. your breathing is in sync with his.

“is this a perfect time to ask for you to be my girlfriend?”

you hum. “took you long enough.”

he’s true to his surname, sano; of field and wilderness. it’s evident in the way you lean back into his arms like a wilted flower, not from a lack of whatsoever but an overflow of adoration and soon to be love.

GENERAL TAGLIST / form

@keiwaizumi @crapimahuman @dukina @princess-in-flowers @astraea-essie @italyhrry @zeyyackerman @royalelusts @g0joluvrrr @k3isuk3 @morosis-haze @neavil

TOKYO REVENGERS TAGLIST / form

@milliumizoomi @zensaki @4igital @sani-signora @revengingvixen @beezebub @myhoodacademia @iheartgirl @akisssnigga @k0benii @lilies-and-rosies @kazuluvr

#shinichiro x you #shinichiro x reader #shinichiro fluff #shinichiro x y/n #shinichiro sano x reader #shinichiro sano x you #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev x you #tokyo revengers x y/n #tokyo rev x y/n

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wellnoe · 3 years ago

Note

Hello! I'm in love with your art, could you tell us how you do colours?

AH that is very nice of you to say. i can try! there is the caveat that my coloring process is mostly just layering different colors on top of one another until i get something i think looks good.

info below the cut:

so first! i put down a solid base color that i kind of want to be in the finished piece. milli has teal hair (and my version of her is based on a rainbow trout) so i used a light greenish-blue color for the base. then i choose a color that is closer to a skin tone (usually a type of pink, but sometimes oranges or yellows too) and put a light layer of that over everywhere skin is visible. it doesn't have to be perfect, because there's going to be a lot more color plastered on top. this is also usually the stage where i start using pink and a darker version of the first color to indicate where i'm going to put blush & shading.

more color layers! for milli (and with characters like jean) i do a lot of my first color layers with shades of yellow and pink. i just layer the colors on top of each other to achieve the shade i want, then color pick from that for other places in the drawing, like the shoulders. i tend to add a lot of saturated pink across the center of the face (cheeks, across the nose, up to the ears). for milli, because i'm basing her on a trout, i used a pretty saturated yellow for the eyes and a lot of greenish yellow for shading. i used green around her spots, but for things like freckles i usually do the same thing with a brown or red.

also!! i usually try to make shadows a more saturated color? it makes coloring more fun for me and i also think it looks nice. milli's shadows are greenish yellow, but usually mine end up being pink/red or orange (which you can kind of see on milli's shoulder).

i cleaned up the base color to make things less distracting and started on the hair. i usually do shadows first. also, i usually use a slightly different hue than whatever i want the 'real' color of the hair to be? milli's hair is supposed to be teal, but i used a much more green shade for the shadows. i also realized i wanted the hair to be brighter in general, and so added a more vibrant teal in a lot of places. i color picked her lipstick from her hair.

finally! i added highlights to the hair with a less saturated color. this was done on top of the lineart layer, and its where i do most of the stuff like adding random fly-aways or strands of hair. i also added blue make-up under the lineart layer, and then added lighter parts of the makeup on top of the layer. in general, i tend to do things like highlights on top of my lineart layer.

here's the finished product! i generally add a noise layer on top.

anyway, my colors are always pretty messy! i do a lot of erasing to make sure they eventually fit in my lineart lol. and you can definitely still see the streaks and shapes of my colors, but i think that's fun! my colors really are just. a lot of layering!

hope that answered your question!! thanks for asking!

#w.ask #my art #w.me

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adrian-the-lonely-writer · 3 years ago

Text

Transitions

A fluffy 'Dean WinchesterXTrans!Male' Reader one-shot where you had come out to Dean, and Dean decided he's going to do everything he can to support you.

“So,” Dean began. His heart was pounding. He rather be facing any number of ghosts and ghouls to avoid fucking this part up. Hell, he’d even take a few demons over this. Anything over these tense emotional moments. Still, he was glued to the bed, hand holding yours. He loved you. He wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of helping you.

“Y-yeah?” You stumbled over your words. You had no idea how your boyfriend was going to handle the news. Tears were threatening to fall over your cheeks as you kept your eyes glued to the floor.

Dean swallowed. Dammit, his brother mentioned something like this in the past. Why couldn’t he remember now? “Well in that case, I suppose we better get you some comfier clothes. C’mon.” He stood up, offering his hand to you. Looking up, you saw that same smile dance across his lips, the same smile you fell in love with. “Wouldn’t want my boyfriend to be uncomfortable.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you jumped into his arms, relief and love washing over you. Dean just chuckled, quietly as he shifted to wrap his arms around you, squeezing you against him. “Thanks Dean…Thank you so much.”

“Of course. You have a different name you like to be called now?”

“Y/N now- I uh, kinda picked it out when I realized I just-”

“Y/N is perfect babe.” His lips left a light little peck at your nose. “C’mon. Sammy’s with Bobby looking for another job, let’s take the day to get you feeling as good as possible, hm? I just had that great poker payout-”

“I thought that was for silver bullets-”

“Pshh. I can win another game or too.” Dean went to smile, but it quickly drooped into a frown. “Your clothes...do they make you feel-” He tried to find the right word.

“Dysphoric? Well I mean a bit. I didn’t exactly have time to choose great clothes when I ran off with you Dean.” Before you could even finish your sentence, Dean was digging through his duffle.

“I was going to drop them off somewhere, they feel a little small.” Dean grinned, poking his head back up. In his hands were an AC/DC shirt and an old pair of jeans. He even pulled out his spare hunting boots. “Might not be the most practical all the time, but we’ll get you some stuff today.”

You tried not to cry once again.

Few minutes later, you found yourself wrapped up in your boyfriend's clothes, in the passenger seat of the car. AC/DC rang out through the speakers. You couldn’t help but smile.

“You...really don’t mind Dean?”

“Mind? Why the hell would I mind?”

“Well you were into me as a-”

“I am into you, period.” Dean smiled a little. “Masculine, feminine, It makes no difference to me. You are still you. So, clothes we’re doing. Not half assed Walmart clothes either, we’re gonna get you some good hunting gear.” You couldn’t help but chuckle a little at that. “Masculine fake IDs from now on, easy enough. Anything else you need?”

“At the moment, I’m not sure...I kinda like what Sam does with his hair so I don’t think I’ll cut it off yet. It isn’t as long as his at the moment anyway.” You giggled at the scrunch in Dean’s nose at the mention of his brother.

“Cute guy with a ponytail never hurts either. Ah. Here’s the shop.”

“Dean this is a mall-”

“Yeah, sporting goods, including guns, bullets, as well as various clothing stores to get you what you need. Plus crowds to blend into. Malls are great Y/N.” He turned into the parking lot, picking a spot somewhere in the middle. “Plus, the impala doesn’t stick out too much here.”

Dean slipped out of his side, opening the door for you before you were even unbuckled. His calloused hand still felt tender as it grasped yours tightly, pulling you towards the store.

Your boyfriend was right after all. The crowds were seamless and the selection would be much greater.

“I’m thinking, we hit the sporting goods store, get some food and supplies. Take our time with it. Then just meet up with Sam and Bobby for the job, sound good Y/N?”

“Sounds perfect Dean.” Your smile was glued to your face as you leaned against his arm walking into the shop Dean had picked. “Is this where you got all your flannels and things?”

“Most of em, yeah. Why? You like that one?” He winked as he saw your cheeks turn a little pink. Sure, you loved the flannel. It made you feel more you, it also smelled like the man you loved more than anything.

“Well it’s nice and warm and-” You tripped over your words again. “Just really nice hunting clothes ya know? Like durable enough you have some protection, it’s also warm enough for nights but I can always open it ya know.”

“Great. So a couple flannels. Some jeans that won’t trip you up. Shirts.” Dean guided you to the clothing area of the store, whipping out his cellphone.

“Dean? Something the matter?” He doesn’t often look at his screen with that much concentration.

“Nope. I was just looking at a size chart.” He matched his screen to a couple of the tags. “These your colors?” He held out some forest green flannel and a black shirt.

“To start with, yeah! Although lighter colors are still nice. I don’t want anything thinking I’m your little brother if I match your style.”

“My style is functional and timeless. Plus, if I had a nickel for everyone who thought Sam and I should-” He scowled as you laughed. You couldn’t help but pick up those books when you saw them. Plus, as prank wars broke out it definitely gave you an upper hand.

“Alright, I concede your style is wonderful Dean.”

“Damn right it is.” He smiled a little. “But I get it, c’mon. Let’s walk around and see what catches your eye.”

The two of you scoured the store from top to bottom. Dean’s arms quickly became laden with fabric as you both approached the fitting rooms.

“Find everything you need sir, and-?” The guy in charge of the rooms spoke.

“Sir.” You introjected. Your heart rate spiked a little. Dean’s hand rested on your shoulder as he nodded to the cashier, as if confirming what you said.

“Of course, right this way. Here is your room, sir.” Without batting an eye the cashier escorted you back to try on your new wardrobe.

“Give 'em hell babe!” Dean called after you, taking his seat. He fiddled with his phone. Sam had finally convinced him to upgrade, and this one had a camera on it.

Quickly, pulse racing, you put on the first outfit of clothes, and slipped outside to model for Dean. Your nerves subsided when met with that goofy grin of his, and you couldn’t help but match it.

“You look amazing.”

“I feel amazing.”

“Wanna try more?” Dean snapped a photo. “That’s gonna be my new cell wallpaper.” You stuck your tongue out to him, a look he cheekily returned.

You went through this a few more times. Different mixed and matched outfits and hunting gear. Dean flirting with you every time you slipped into his sight. Soon you had a week's worth of clothes, with some extras to wear during a wash. Eventually you made it towards the food court, carrying the bags. You both went immediately to the burger stand and sat down.

“Fucck~” Dean’s eyes were closed in bliss. “I forgot how amazing these burgers were.”

“God we ate at gas stations so much I had forgotten food could be juicy.” You were devouring your burger as ravenous as Dean was. Oblivious to the look he was giving you.

Dean just smiled, chewing as he looked at you. It had only been a few months since you were traveling with him. Demon blooded kid like Sammy, you wanted to be able to help. Truthfully you were thankful they accepted.

Dean sometimes kicks himself at night for almost saying no. He had fallen for you, hard, the first time you rode in the back of the car. The way your eyes lit up as his own music started to play. The way you got along with Sam. He had fallen hard. You were perfect in his eyes now as you were then.

“Dean?...” Your voice was quiet, head against the window. After eating Dean had loaded you and your new things into the impala before starting to make your guy’s way to Bobby's place.

The excitement of the day had driven your eyelids to a close by this point. The soft rumblings of the engine were lulling you to sleep. Dean’s hand found yours once more, with a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah babe?”

“I love you Dean…”

“I love you too Y/N.” His words were the last things you heard before finally succumbing to sleep.

Dean drove on, hand never leaving yours. He had found the best boyfriend in the world, and he intended to keep things that way.

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #dean x y/n #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #fanfic #trans man #trans pride #trans reader #pride #dean winchester x transreader #transmasc #trans ftm #gay ftm #ftm

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dontworrysunflower · 4 years ago

Text

You Make It Better | h.s.

warnings: DEPRESSION, i apologize if i do not portray it correctly, i wrote what i could figure out from the internet. if this triggers you PLEASE DO NOT READ OR READ WITH CAUTION, nudity (? idk they shower together), very cheesy sorry

a/n: this is something i wish i had rn because even thought i’m not diagnosed and definitely think am depressed so ig that is where this came from. please, if you ever need someone to talk to, my messages are always open and i have no life so i’ll answer as soon as i can, asks (anonymous too) are always open. also i’m bad at endings so excuse that. (and writing his accent but we’ll ignore that)

word count: 2.9k

feedbacks/reblogs appreciated

masterlist

It was a late Saturday morning when you realized it was going to be a really hard day with your depression. You had woken up earlier than Harry, which was very rare. His arm was tucked between your neck and the pillow, hand laying softly on your arm, your head just below the right swallow tattoo on his chest, the inked butterfly on his stomach stretching with every even breath he took in his sleep.

It wasn’t much longer until he eventually woke up, his fingers suddenly grazing your arm as he fully opened his eyes to look at you. He lets out a guttural groan, stretching his legs under the blanket.

“G’mornin’ lovie,” he said groggily, voice rough as he bends down to press a light kiss to your hair. You don’t move, only your nail lightly scratching his side. His face scrunches up in confusion, and you knew if you were to look up at him you would burst out in tears just from how cute he is. “(y/n)?” He asked, moving down on the bed to be face to face with you. “You okay, baby?” His nose nudged yours, but again, you don’t react. You don’t even look him in the eyes.

All you do is shrug to his question, a little hum falling past your lips.

Then it struck him, and you see the exact moment when it does. But his face doesn’t change to a sympathetic look, he doesn’t frown at you with a sorry look.

Instead, he gives you a small and sleepy smile and pushes a strand of your hair away from your face. He scoots closer to you, moving you to sit on his lap, his boxers laying low on his hips, his inked fern leaves peeking through.

“Another one of those days?” He asked quietly as he moved to put his head right next to yours, his eyes looking up at you.

“Yeah.” You mumble, reaching over to grab the pendant of his necklace, rubbing the green cross with your soft finger.

“How bad?”

You continue to drag your finger over his cross pendant, eyes fixated his chest hairs. You sigh heavily before parting to answer. “Nine.”

“Hmm.” He kissed your forehead. “What made it a little betta’?”

You finally looked up at him, his emerald eyes still had a glassy look, still not fully awake. You’re hesitate to speak, your mouth opening and closing, thinking whether or not you should say what’s on your mind.

Very early in your relationship, you told Harry that it was hard for you to open up to people. You told him your illness made you feel like a burden towards everyone you know, you told him that there may be days where you wouldn’t want to see him because you’d feel like you're getting in the way.

But unlike the other people you’ve been with, he understood and was patient with you. And even though there were days that got really bad, he stayed by your side.

“You can talk to me, baby.” Harry took your hand that was holding his pendant, his finger grazing the skin of your thumb.

Your lips slightly quirk up, but not enough to really show that you were happy. But he could see it.

“You make it better.” You maneuver your hand that was in his to now hold his hand, bringing it closer to your chest and play with his ringless fingers.

When he doesn’t say anything, you look up at him worriedly, scared you’ve said the wrong thing.

But when you do, his face was the definition of happy. He was smiling so wide, his dimples were showing. There was a light hue on his cheeks, bringing his face to life.

You wish you could be that happy right now.

He brought you closer to his chest and pressed his lips to your matted hair. “Wanna just stay in bed all day?” You nod against his chest. “Whatever you want, love.” His arms tightened around you, bringing you impossibly closer, giving you a silent message of I’m here for you.

“Do you want something to eat? Some tea, maybe?” He asked sweetly as he started to pull away, his feet hitting the wooden flooring on your shared bedroom.

You looked up at him, hesitating to answer, but his fingers scratch your scalp in encouragement, his green eyes looking down at you sweetly. “Could-” you hesitate. “Could I just have some tea, please? Peppermint, if we have any.”

He nodded, bending down to press to place a kiss to your nose. “Anything to eat?”

You shake your head and bring the duvet to your face.

Before he can get too far, you grab his hand, getting his attention as he starts to walk away. “What’s up, baby?”

“Can I have a kiss?” you asked shyly, afraid he’ll reject you.

Instead of answering, he just leans down to peck your lips, but you hold his jaw and keep his close.

You give him one last peck before you pull away slightly, lips bruised to a pink color, faces still close.

You peck him one last time then back away, bringing the duvet to your chin.

“Don’t be too long.” You mumble.

He chuckled and kissed your head before walking out of the room.

•••

He comes back a couple minutes later, two mugs in his hands, a banana in between his lips.

You sit up against the headboard, the duvet just under your stomach that’s covered in one of Harry's old striped shirts.

“Thank you.” You mumble as you take the pastel orange mug from Harry’s hand.

You both sit quiet as you sip at your hot beverage, Harry offering you a bite of his banana after a while, but you decline.

Harry takes your empty cup and leaves it on his side table, the banana peel hanging from the rim of his mug.

“Do you wanna do anything?” He asked beside you, taking your hand in his.

“Ca-” You hesitate, scared he’ll say no or you feel like you're being selfish for what you're about to ask. “Can we just cuddle?” You asked with a pout, looking down at your lap.

He lets out a little giggle, getting under the white duvet. “I’d never say no to your cuddles.”

He pulls you close to his chest, the hair on his legs tickling your silky ones. His tattooed arm comes to lay over your stomach.

After a while, your eyes begin to sting, your sight becoming blurry, tears falling down your cheeks.

Harry seems to feel your salty tears fall on his chest. He plays with the ends of your hair and then rubs your arm. “Let it out, baby.”

Your shoulders shake as you sob, uncontrollable tears falling down your cheeks.

Harry held you tighter as you hiccuped, breath evening, eyes shutting as you fall asleep.

•••

When you woke up, the room was drastically darker. Harry’s side lamp was the only source of light.

Harry’s torso was against the headboard, one hand tangled in your hair, the other holding up a book as his eyes scan every word on the page.

When you shuffle under his touch, he closes his book and lays it by his side. “Hi.” He leans down to kiss your head, his hand now by your waist, playing with the hem of your (his) shirt you’re wearing that has risen up.

“What were you reading?” you asked meekly after you yawn, moving your arm across his fern tattoos.

“Love is a mixtape.”

“You love that book.” Your head moves up and down with his chest as he laughs. “Can you read some to me?”

“Sure, baby.”

•••

He had read a chapter or two when you realized, a small gasp leaving your lips. “Weren’t you supposed to go to the studio today?” You held up your weight against your arm, your hand digging into the mattress under you.

Your face scrunched up in guilt, your mind racing with the thought of getting in the way of Harry’s music, never wanting to be the reason he stopped working.

He just hums and and folders the corner of the page he was on before closing the book and leaving it on his side table. “I called Jeff when I was making the tea that I wasn’t going to make it today.”

“But why? You were excited to-”

“No one that matters, baby. There was no way I would’ve left you here by yourself.”

“I would’ve been fi-”

“No, you wouldn’t have and you know it.” His voice changed completely, more firm and stern than how he was talking earlier today. “Baby,” he started, he shifted in his spot on the mattress, turning completely towards you, taking your hands in his. You’ve always loved when you held hands. Loved to feel the comparison in size from your to his and your thumb always grazed his cross tattoo. You always get butterflies when he touches you, and that hasn’t changed since the beginning of your relationship that felt like so long ago.

“It’s okay to not be okay. I know it’s a struggle and everyday I wish I could take this pain from you, but I can’t. The best I can do is be there for you and hold you. And you may feel like you don’t deserve it, but you do. You deserve happiness and more. You may feel like every little thing you do bothers me and others but you don’t. I love you with my entire being, (y/n), and I’m surprised you haven’t gotten tired of me.”

You scoff through foggy eyes, but his dimples and freckles are still prominent in your vision.

“In the rare times that we’re not together and I’m with other people, the first thing people ask me is how you’re doing. Shit, I even get asked about you in interviews and fans I meet on the street ask about you.”

You’re full on sobbing now, his pretty words too much to handle, an overwhelming feeling of love and gratitude and happiness filling your chest.

“You’re not a burden, baby.” He said softly as he pulled you into his lap, his rough fingertips sipping the salty tears from under your eyes. “Say it, please.”

You take in a shaky breath, but an even, firm breath comes out, the ache in your chest a lot lighter, less painful. You lick your chapped lips before speaking, “I’m not a burden.”

His lips press to your temple, the warm skin. You both cry, holding each other tighter than what you thought was possible. You nuzzle your face into his neck, breathing his warmth and scent.

He sighs and gingerly kisses your forehead, his finger twirling the ends of your hair.

“Wanna go take a shower?” Harry asked, your legs tangled with his under the comforter. “We can watch a movie or something after, yeah?” He pushed back the stray hairs that had fallen out of your ponytail, the tie loosening its grip on your hair as you moved around the bed throughout the day.

“Yeah.” you mumble, eyes droopy again, energy slowly fading as the sun faded from the sky.

“C’mon, baby.” He wiggles away from you, standing on the side of the bed, his hand out for you to grab.

You move the duvet off you, goosebumps forming on your exposed legs and arms because you were only wearing one of Harry’s old shirts.

He takes your hand as you scoot closer to the edge of the bed, your feet softly landing on the wooden flooring of your bedroom.

Harry raises your intertwined hands and tenderly pressed his lips to the back of your hand, his dimples smile forming when he sees a blush form on your cheeks. “C’mon, love.” He leads you towards the bathroom, quickly turning on the light.

You walk behind him as he makes his way further in, opening the glass door of the shower to turn on the water, letting it get warm before he turns around to you.

He lifts his own shirt up, exposing his tattooed chest. “You too, love.” He chuckled at you as you just stood there in front of him.

He drops his shirt before tugging at the hem of yours, his eyes looking into yours for approval. You give him a small nod before he brings it up your torso.

He helps you undress the rest of the way, which was quick because you only had your underwear left.

You stayed close as Harry quickly undressed. The butterfly on his stomach expanded as he took in a deep breath, his hand reaching towards you again to lead you to the spraying shower.

The foggy glass door springs open and Harry steps aside for you. “Ladies first.”

Harry’s hand leaves yours to lay it on your back as you step into the steaming shower.

•••

Harry just finished washing your hair, his fingers raking through your wet strands, his chin resting on top of your head. Your hands mindlessly run up and down his back, your cheek against the swallow tattoo on his chest.

His thumb rubs against the side of your face, catching your attention. You look up to his green eyes looking down at you already, his dimples lightly denting his cheeks. “You’re pretty.” He spoke softly, his eyes shifting around your face.

You sheepishly look down at his chest, lightly tracing the butterfly tattoo on his stomach.

He chuckles at your shyness and kisses your forehead. Even though you can’t see it, he looks at you like you hung the moon, he looks at you like a goddess even though you have demons on your shoulders. “Which one’s your favorite?” He whispered in your ear before pressing his lips to it.

You hummed as you leaned back, Harry’s hands on your hips still keeping you close. Your eyes scanned his body, your mind at battle.

You suddenly lift yourself up on your toes, holding on to his shoulders for leverage as you look at the tattoos that cross over, inching close to his back muscles.

“The little guitar doodle, thing.” You said before you unknowingly let out a little giggle, you finger lightly grazing the darkened skin.

“There’s that laugh.” He spoke softly, a small grin widening on his face. His emerald eyes shining in adoration. “I missed it.” His fingers curl the ends of your hair. Your hands move to his face, delicately holding his gorgeous face against yours.

“I love you. Thank you.” You said quietly, tears fogging your sight.

He shakes his head without hesitation, wet curls falling between you. “Nothing to thank me for.” He lifted his head to press a hard kiss on your nose, making a small giggle leave your lips. “There’s that beautiful sound again.” He roughly kissed under your eye, your giggles getting louder. He pecks the corner of your lips before migrating slightly to nip at your pink lips.

Your shoulders relax as you sigh into the kiss, your fingers lightly grazing the skin on Harry's shoulder, his around your waist, giving you a small squeeze.

The warm water cascades behind you, flowing through your hair and falling down to your feet.

He slowly pulls away, so slow that it seemed like he didn’t really want to pull away. Wet strands of his hair fall into his face, your fingers quickly leaving his shoulder to rake them back. “Wanna finish up and get to bed?” He asked quietly, his chipped fingernails faintly grazing the skin of your hip.

You nod, backing up as Harry moved closer to turn off the water behind you. The steamy glass door opens with a pop, Harry’s feet stepping onto the white floor mat to grab towels hanging on the wall. He quickly wraps one around his waist, droplets of water descending down his inked frame, some falling down from his hair onto his shoulder.

You slowly step out of the shower beside Harry, grabbing the towel from his hands and unfolding it to dry your hair and body before wrapping it around yourself.

“Do you want one of my shirts, love?” He asked as he walked out to the bathroom (still completely wet with a water trail behind him) to his dresser, looking through his casual wardrobe.

“If it’s okay with you.” You stayed in the bathroom, watching him move around the bedroom.

“Of course, lovie. That’s why I offered.” He comes in front of you to hand you some clothes, just a pair of his boxers and his old ‘Hot n Hard’ shirt. “Always want you in my clothes. He pecks your nose and pulls away, a small dimple piercing his cheek as he smirked. “Also like you with no clothes.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and pushed at his shoulder, shaking your head at him.

By the time you slid on the shirt he gave you, he was leaning against the doorframe, pink boxers hanging loosely under the fern tattoos. “Can I help with your skincare?” He asked shyly, his cheeks turning the same color as his boxers.

You don’t hesitate to nod, stepping farther into the bathroom to let him in.

He pats the counter, his other hand going to your back. “Sit for me, baby.”

You jumped onto the counter, silently watching him as he gathered your different products, you had too many to count (and didn’t need).

You sat quietly as you watched his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, tongue poking out of his lips. His rough fingers gingerly patting stuff on your face, laughing at your whines when he was dragging down your face instead of smoothing up. “It’ll give me wrinkles!” You groaned.

So now he’ll do the same with his skin.

What? He doesn’t want wrinkles either.

•••

yay!!!

@chillingonlife @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @letsgoparty-ah-ah-ah-yeah @tom-hollands-wife @acciosiriusblack (i know some of you probably only meant the instagram things but i hope this is okay)

(lmk if you want to be added/taken off taglist)

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