#which is a thing on its own to laugh about

[ghostlychaosfoil]

KIRBY QUESTIONS!!!

may be repetitive.. some questions refer to similar things

also it is mostly unnecessary to read the questions above, you can just read my responses

kirby fs has to grow on people. He instinctively puts up a intimidating persona when meeting new people, due to his old job as a repo man. Hes pretty annoying at first, but he will lower that persona eventually.

kirby is very used to being alone so he feels pretty comfortable and calm with being alone. He was homeschooled for most of his life and his only past social experiences were at jobs where he had to be serious with the exception of his dad, whom he spend most of his time with. His social personality is always an attempt at a serious person (since he was never that good at acting like that) it is pretty easy to see through him at his mix of anxiety, suspicion and despairity to be likeable. over time he gives ul the act.

the emotion that is the hardest for kirby to deal with is fear

kirby is more physically affectionate than emotionally affectionate, though he needs to recieve both. he used to be more emotionally affectionate with leatherhead, when helping him through his occasional depressive episodes concerning his divorced partner.

kirby good at keeping secrets from everyone but one select person (raph or leatherhead, depending on the time) which must hear ALL the secrets

He speak in hints and riddle when it come to his past or other sensitive topics otherwise he is regrettably blunt.

Kirby is a decent liar until you pick up on subtle habits of his. Kirby will cover or hide his shoulder marks when he lies because when he was young, leatherhead told him that everyone could see his shoulder marks glow (parenting hack he found online). Kirby will lie to prove his point, or to get out of a uncomfortable situation.

Kirby is not very open about his true feelings positive and negative verbally but hes is pretty bad at controlling his body language and facial expressions.

Kirbys main love language is acts of service with minor quality time and physical touch.

Kirby does not fall in love very quickly because he will have manyyy contradicting toughts and feelings

some small things that make kirby happy are butter, small animals, mountain dew, sunsets, and when his rollerblades are clean

His self esteem plummeted after his krangification, due to his lack of support system and different appearance.

When kirbys sense of humor is mainly observational. If someone says or does something he will lightheartedly use it as a tool to make a joke. He doesnt make puns though, he more repeats the action with his own humorous spin on it (ex pointing out the irony of something or repeating what someone said in a weird voice). His laugh is also very contagious, so he can make people laugh fairly easily if he wants to. There is also the aspect of him unintentionally being funny in awkward situations, in which case he gets defensive or tries to play it off like it was a joke all along.

its not hard to make kirby laugh, he will laugh at any stupid pun or slightly ironic situation. he is not very good at suppressing his laughs (he does get mad if the laugh breaks his serious act). Kirby has a mainly wheeze laugh or a snicker, depending on how funny it was.

Kirby does not hide it very well when he doesnt like someone. he will often either not talk to them or try to refute or disprove their every word.

Kirby easily relies on others to help him out but he later learned to be more independent when he lived alone.

His biggest struggle that no one around is able to understand or believe is learning how to interact with his peers in a “kind” way. or his nerve disfunction that other deem veeeery convinient.

Oh boy does he have to hide his identity! After he is dekrangified, his marks are stained pink, still giving him a krangy look, not to mention his increase in size. That mixed with him already being mutant, he keeps to the alleys and tops of buildings and tries to keep a low profile and wears his hood when in public.

If he could change one thing in the past it would have been to not have been so embarrassed of his dad, and instead had appreciated it while he could.

When kirby is sad or upset he would prefer company but is scared/embarrassed to ask for it or admit it. it would go something like “kirby do you want a hug?” “nahh”(WHY DID I SAY THAT I DO WANT A HUG I SHOULD ASK FOR A HUG AGAIN SAY NEVERMIND SAY NEVERMIND) “wait actually uhh”

when kirby is sick he would prefer not to be seen.

kirby sure does have nightmares! and sleep paralysis. They are usually about the krang invesion or being krangified, or something starting with a happy scenario like his old life in his house, restaurant, junk yard, rollerblading, and then it twists into something scary. And thats when his dreams arent being manipulated by venus. his venus dreams are very vivid yet muffled. Venus is trying to reconnect with kirby and trying to find him through his dreams, kirby not understanding this one bit. He later has dreams about venus even when she isnt trying to be in them, stemming from kirby constantly worrying about the venus dreams.

The darkest period of kirby’s life was the months after being unkrangified, before meeting raph. This is because he is fully cut off from everyone he once knew, and has massive amounts of ptsd and anxiety, and injury from being krangified.

its very easy for kirby’s emotions to cloud his judgement.

kirby does have fears and phobias, lots of them. his willingness to open up depends on the likelyhood that it will change someones view of him (this is mainly after krangification, he was an open book w his dad and repo)

Physical injuries post krang: ocular migranes cause by blood vessel spasms (temporary blindness), sensory and motor nerve damage in areas where the krang was most populated (crush injury in arm due to compression), some areas of skin just ripped up and cut, just so much fatigue (the krang had his body working nonstop for months). Mental illness oh boy he got that anxiety and ptsd (lets just say hes in the special classes iykwim /ij)

Kirby does have scars, the most prominent being the pink stained marks on his face arms and legs (his face mostly), and he HATESS them, kirby cant stand to look in a mirror for a long time. The sight of the scary pink on his face send him in a spiral. He also has a scars on his hands from a butter knife (the super noticeable one on his left hand, its very embarrassing when he admits what actually caused it and that it wasnt from a shark fight) and smaller ones on both hands (he tried both hands🫣) from pizza cutters. the hand cuts he doesnt mind as much, though he forgets about them as his hands are usually wrapped nowadays, they sometimes make him sad but only sometimes!

something that kirby will never forgive is something that kirby doesnt know yet… BUT in the meantime its the harm he caused as a krang

kirby deals with loss, stress, and anger in a sort of neutral way if its not that severe. He goes out of his way to avoid all things that would even slightly trigger a thought about the thing causing the distress (this could possibly mess with his sleep or safety🤔). He will try to distract himself with tasks such as cleaning or fixing things in his home, listening to the radio, going out and just walking around doing whatever he ends up doing. (if its severe them somebody go check on kirby)

best coping mechanisms above ⬆️ worst coping mechanism would be “try not to sleep ever challenge!!!” (somebody put him down)

It is super hard for kirby to own up to his mistakes and wrongdoings because he thinks admitting to them means hes a horrible person.

heheheh….. maybeeee

kirby’s fondest and most treasured memories would be cooking or watching tv with his dad.

some vices Kirby has are lying, stealing, and being easily agitated

Kirby doesnt not like his appearance, if he could change it he would at least change his marks back to normal shape and color.

His favorite blanket hold emotional value because it reminds him of the one he used to have. Its a giant fluffy brown blanket that he stole😳 through someones window( saw it, stuck his arm through to window, starts pulling it out and is struggling because he underestimated its size, its owner, who was IN THE ROOM, starts pulling it back and yelling, kirby had already gotten too deep he gotta commit, so he eventually wins the tug o war and scurries off w it). his butterfly knives later hold emotional value when one of the turtles etches Anata wa hitori ja nai when kirby is accepted into the fam.

Kirby would spend a lazy day to go on walk, rollerblade, just be outside. But if theres someone around, he will just try to join in on whatever they are doing, if nothing to di w them, he shall suggest a movie or crafts of some kind.

When kirby needs to feel comfortable, he would prefer to be in a quiet place or go with someone he trusts (ex raph, the other turtles too as time goes on). Another comfort is his blanket specifically or any blanket in general, he likes being warm.

Kirby’s sleeping habits are BAD due to his fear of dreaming that he has developed. His favorite sleeping position is on his back but most surfaces arent squishy enough for him to lay on his back due to his shell shape, his second favorite is fetal position. Kirby twitches and moves a LOT in his sleep unless its a super deep sleep, then hes totally still. If he’s sleeping with someone then he will often gravitate towards the warmth of the person, if not clinging to, hes at least touching them.

Oh kirby is picky with his food alright. He grew up in his dad’s restaurant (minotaurs pizza) and he expects everything he eats to be of that “high” quality (hes alwayss disappointed).Also ironically he mostly snacks on very not high quality food throughout the day instead if eating meals. he will at least try whatever you give him but he will complain the whole time. He has a borderline addiction to butter and buttery foods.

Their usual morning routine is not very set in stome for kirby, it fluxuates from day to day and where he is.

Their idea of a perfect hangout would be to go skate around somewhere not too busy or loud (maybe in naturee🤔) and then go get the “butter safe then sorry”(lmao) pizza from minotaurs pizza and then go to someones house and watch a movie

he dodsnt know what that is

At a party you would find kirby smuggling food in his pockets, either being really good or horribly bad at a party game, or scaring the hoes😔

for an event he would dress slightly different than he normally does and think its dressed up

Kirby dresses for comfort rather than style (his one rule for dressing is just NO PINK)

NO NONO NOnot like leo LMAOO

i dont knowww

some things people assume he doesnt know or can do: knows how to to churn butter so thats a thing that he can do. He is pretty good at fighting though his form is shit. he is knowledgeable on agriculture and earth stuff. Some things people assume he does know but he doesnt: this guy CANNOT spell and does not know what a lot of the words he uses mean. he cant ica skate (it is NOT the same as rollerblading) or skateboard.

He is really good at rollerblanding and negotiating, he is really bad at reading and writing

Kirby is good with money, hes very cheap and also very reluctant to spend it, so, he ends up saving lots of it.

kirby is NOT bilingual (I know I know sorry to disappoint the fans). He stuggled to learn his first language he couldnt speak another if he tried.

Kirby does like to sing but he is so bad at it. He is not confident in it. He will sing super loud if he knows hes alone (he WILL swear off singing if caught).

Kirby doesnt like the shopping aspect of gift giving (online shopping HAYES to see him coming but he doesnt have a credit card soo) but he LOVES seeing the person glow when they see what he got them. Kirby is actually a phenomenal gift giver.

Kirby can take a liking to a place so fast, but it will take a while for his perspective to shift from the old home to the new one. If he comes back to a place more than once than its a contender for a home.

Kirby would react to a dirty joke by immediately shifting to a blank expression and slowly turning to stare at the person whi said it.

The most stupid and dangerous thing hes ever done is either try to tame repos cat or stay awake for a long period of time alone in the city with a fucked up body

In the situation where he had to choose, he would rather stay loyal to the people he loves

Kirby would want to be remembered for being right.

If they were to commit a crime(he has commit it already) I would be theft alll the theft. or poisoning someone (he REALLY had to fight the urge when he was working at minotaurs).

OC questions

60 questions that can be made into an OC ask game, or you can just fill everything out yourself to get to know your character a little better :)

___

[1] What first impression do they typically make? Are they likeable from the get go, or take time to grow on people?

[2] How does their social personality differ from how they act when they’re alone?

[3] What emotion is the hardest for them to deal with?

[4] How physically and emotionally affectionate they are?

[5] Are they good at keeping secrets?

[6] How direct are they in conversations, do they speak in hints and riddles or bluntly say what they think?

[7] Are they a good liar, and what would they probably lie about?

[8] How open they are about their true feelings, both positive and negative?

[9] What is their love language?

[10] How quickly do they fall for someone?

[11] What are small things that make them happy?

[12] How high is their self-esteem?

[13] What kind of sense of humor do they have, if any?

[14] What does it take to make them laugh, and what does their laugh sound like?

[15] How do they act around people they don't like?

[16] Do they easily rely on others to help them out, or prefer doing everything themselves?

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[17] What is their biggest struggle that no one around them is able to understand or believe?

[18] Do they ever have to hide their identity and for what reason?

[19] If they could change one thing about their past, what would they change?

[20] When they’re sad or upset, do they need company or some time alone?

[21] When they’re sick, would they want others to visit and take care of them, or they would rather prefer not to be seen at not their best?

[22] Do they have nightmares, and if yes, when did they start and what are they usually about?

[23] What was the worst, the darkest period of their life that they have been through?

[24] How hard it is for them to not allow their emotions to cloud their judgement?

[25] Do they have fears and phobias, and if they do, do they usually keep it to themselves or talk about it openly?

[26] Do they have any physical or mental ilness, how do they handle it and how open they are about it?

[27] Do they have any scars, how did they get them and how do they feel about them?

[28] What is something that they will never be able to forgive?

[29] How do they deal with loss, stress and anger?

[30] What are their most healthy and most unhealthy coping mechanisms?

[31] How hard it is for them to own up to their mistakes and wrongdoings?

[32] Is there something they've done in the past that they deeply regret till this day?

[33] What are one of their fondest and most treasured memories?

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[34] Do they have vices they don't want others to know about?

[35] Do they like their own appearance, and what do they do, if anything, to alter it in any way?

[36] Do they own items that have sentimental value?

[37] How would they spend a lazy day when they have nothing specific to do?

[38] What do they usually do or where do they go when they need to feel comfortable and safe?

[39] What is their sleeping habits and favorite sleeping position, either alone and with someone?

[40] How picky they are with food, do they have specific dietary requirements based on their health or culture?

[41] What’s their usual morning routine?

[42] What is their idea of a perfect friendly hangout and/or romantic date?

[43] Do they enjoy flirting or being flirted with?

[44] On a party, where would you find them?

[45] For an event, would they dress like they typically do, or go all out?

[46] Would they rather dress to look attractive or to feel comfortable, and what would they never wear?

[47] Do they drink alcohol, and if they do, how much and how often?

[48] Are they, or were they at some point in their life, a part of any subculture?

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[49] Do they possess any unexpected skill or knowledge that surprises others, and otherwise, what is something anyone would assume they know or can do, but in fact they don’t?

[50] What are they really good and really bad at?

[51] How good are they with money?

[52] Do they speak any other languages aside from their own?

[53] Do they like to sing and how confident they are with their singing?

[54] Do they like giving gifts, and how good are they at picking good gifts?

[55] How long does it take for them to make a new place feel like home, and what do they need for it?

[56] How would they react to hearing a dirty joke?

[57] What was the most stupid or dangerous thing they have ever done?

[58] In the situation where they had to choose, would they rather stay loyal to their morals or to people they love?

[59] What would they want to be remembered for?

[60] If they were to commit a crime, what kind of crime would it most likely be?

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some of these question were written myself, some are the courtesy of my friend, and some were brought from my questionnaires in my old fandom. if you use them, please reblog or link back to this post

[deerlysacred]

🍎 i feel so high school every time i look at you . . . { dean winchester x fem!reader }

𐂂 𝄢 { you always felt like you missed out on lots of silly, social & romantic things in your teenage years because you were very shut-down and depressed back then. dean shows you that there's still time to make up for it. }

𖣂 𝄢 established relationship & fluff

♫ 𝄢 concept song : so high school - taylor swift

Clink.

. . .

Clink!

The soft clatter of pebbles against your bedroom window barely registered at first. You were curled up under a mountain of blankets, comfortably burrowed in your own little nest, flipping through a book with a cup of tea precariously (?) balanced on your stomach. You told yourself it was probably just the wind. Or a tree branch. Or, you know, the natural creaks and groans of a house that is absolutely not haunted (you hoped so).

Then— another clink.

And another.

You sighed, your eyebrows knitting together.

Okay. Either a ghost just decided to throw hands, or some poor bird tragically lost its sense of direction.

You went out of bed, padding over to the window as you pulled the curtains away. Your eyes widened against the unexpected scene.

Dean Winchester. Standing in your backyard, throwing rocks at your window.

The sight alone was almost too much for your brain to process. He was grinning up at you like some teenage heartthrob straight out of an '80s rom-com, one hand tucked into the pocket of his leather jacket while the other —oh great— prepared to lob another pebble.

"Dean?" you whisper-yelled, opening your window. "What the hell are you doing?"

"What's it look like, sweetheart?" he whisper-yelled right back, looking too proud of himself. "I'm sneakin' my girl out for a date. Proper teenage style. Now c'mon, before your strict old folks catch me."

You just stared at him, struggling to process several things at once. One, he is standing in your yard throwing pebbles at your window like a delinquent in a coming of age TV show. Two, he just called you his girl, which— okay, that probably should've sound normal to you since you're his girlfriend indeed. For a while now, in fact. But your brain still short-circuited a little, getting flustered even after all this time.

"…Dean, I don't have strict old folks."

He waved a dismissive hand. "I dunno, Y/N. Your grandma did glare at me once. Feels like I'm riskin' life and limb here."

You bit back a laugh. "You do realize I could just use the door, right?"

Dean scoffed, his breath getting visible with the fog because of the chilly air of the evening. "Oh, sure, and miss out on the whole forbidden romance, Romeo-and-Juliet, sneakin'-through-the-night scene? Where's your sense of drama, sweetheart? Hm? Where's your passion?" He gestured grandly towards the window and flexed his muscles briefly. "Now, c'mon. Climb out or somethin'. I'll catch ya."

You folded your arms, shaking your head as you chuckled. "You will not catch me!"

Dean put a hand over his heart, looking scandalized. "Excuse me? I am a gentleman. I would absolutely catch you."

"Dean, be honest. Do you want to risk finishing this date night before it even began after you broke your arm because you got too full of yourself?"

He squinted, like he was actually considering the question. "…Okay, fair point. Plan B— the ladder in the garage. We improvise."

You shook your head again, a helpless smile breaking through. You knew why he was doing this. He probably couldn't stop thinking about what you told him last night— how you felt like you missed out on things as a teenager. How you overthink about the past missed opportunities sometimes, okay… Maybe more than sometimes. And here he was now. And because that he was Dean, instead of just saying something sweet or reassuring and get over with it (not like he was very good with words too), he was throwing pebbles at your window like a teenage rebel, giving you the moment you never got to have.

And damn it if that didn't make you fall for him even more.

"Give me a minute." you said, already reaching for your coat.

Dean grinned, all boyish mischief and dimples, retrieving the slightly rusted ladder from the garage, setting it against the house. "That's my girl, come."

You sighed and closed the window before carefully making your way back down. When you were only a couple of steps from the bottom, Dean suddenly spread his arms wide, wiggling his fingers.

"Alright, sweetheart— leap of faith. I got you."

You eyed him warily. "Dean…"

"Oh, come on. Where's your sense of adventure? Woulda made such a cute movie moment."

You rolled your eyes but decided to humor him. With a deep breath, you let go of the ladder and jumped.

Dean, to his credit, did catch you. Mostly.

He stumbled back a step, arms full of you, before he managed to steady them both, laughing. "See? Told ya I'd—oof—catch you."

You clung to him, half-giggling, half-mortified. "That was not smooth."

"Eh, I give it a solid eight outta ten," Dean said, setting you on your feet. He brushed an imaginary leaf off your shoulder, voice dipping low and playful. "Y'know, if this was some cheesy teen drama, this'd be the part where we kiss real slow, right before your dad comes out with a shotgun."

You snorted, tilting your head. "Too bad my dad's not around to threaten you."

Just as the two of you turned towards the Impala, movement from across the street caught your eye.

Mr. Jenkins.

Mr. Jenkins was your eighty-something-year-old neighbor who sits on his porch every night sipping his coffee, watching the world go by. And right now, he was watching you and Dean with the exact expression of a man who has seen some things in his time but has never seen this.

Dean followed your gaze and gave Mr. Jenkins a slow, respectful nod.

Mr. Jenkins narrowed his eyes. Took a sip of coffee. Kept staring.

Dean turned back to you, whispering. "Alright, I think I've been made. Your grandpa's gonna call the cops, isn't he?"

"He's not my grandpa."

"You sure? He's got that 'disapproving man of the house' energy goin' on."

You sighed. "Just get in the car before he starts asking questions."

Dean tugged open the Impala's door with a dramatic flourish, waving you in like he's some kind of old-school gentleman. "After you, milady."

"Dean…?" you said slowly, side-eyeing him.

"Mm?" He looked perfectly innocent. Too innocent.

"You're taking me to a makeout spot?"

Dean smirked. "Technically, I'm takin’ you to a scenic overlook with a great view of the stars." A beat. "But, yeah, also a makeout spot."

You groaned, slumping against the seat. "I hate everything."

"Nahhh, you love it."

…You kind of did love it. But he didn't need to know that.

When he finally pulled up to the clearing, the view was stunning. An open sky stretching for miles, stars shining bright against the darkness, the town lights twinkling far below. Dean shut off the engine and hopped out, you hugged your coat and went out to clim up on the hood of Baby to sit. When Dean came back, he was holding— a picnic basket?

Your brows shot up. "Oh my God, you packed snacks?"

Dean looked vaguely offended. "Sweetheart, I always pack snacks."

You laughed as he set the basket down on the hood of the Impala and sat next to you. He pulled out a few chocolate bars, a bag of chips, and—of course—a pack of beer.

"Very nutritious." you remarked.

Dean popped the cap off a bottle. "Hey, you want gourmet, sweetheart, you're in the wrong car."

You rolled your eyes but took a chocolate bar, unwrapping it as you leaned back against the windshield, eyes drifting to the sky. It really was beautiful up here. Quiet. Peaceful.

Then, the soft strumming of a guitar filters through the Impala's speakers. An old, slow love song, the kind that makes your chest ache in that bittersweet way.

You glanced at Dean, who was busy nursing his beer like this was no big deal. Like he didn't just put on a song as if this was a romance movie. Your stomach flipped, biting your bottom lip, you spoke.

"Dean…"

He cleared his throat. "Just thought, y'know… if you ever wanted that teenage movie moment… well. This ain't a prom, but…" He gestured around you. "Got the view. Got the music. Got the devastatingly handsome date."

You giggled, leaning into his side. "You are pretty devastating."

Dean grinned, draping an arm around your shoulders. For a while, you just sat there, listening to the song and cuddling.

After a moment of silence, he glanced down at you as he was caressing your shoulder gently. "So, what kinda stuff do you think you missed out on?"

"I don't know. Just… normal teenage things, I guess. Like— stupid, fun stuff. Sneaking out just to go nowhere. Sleepovers. Gossiping about crushes. A first kiss that wasn't tainted by some deep emotional crisis."

Dean winced playfully. "Oof. That one hit close to home."

You smirked. "Right?"

Dean leaned back on his palms, looking thoughtful. "Yeah, I get that. I missed out on a bunch of crap, too. No high school parties. No prom. No dumb summer jobs or college road trips. Just—" he huffed a dry laugh. "—training, hunting, and trying to keep Sammy safe."

You frowned, reaching for his hand. "That's not fair. You deserved those things, Dean."

He shrugged, squeezing your fingers. "Yeah, well… wasn't in the cards for me."

You looked down at your joined hands, your thumb tracing over his knuckles. "Sometimes I think about it. What kind of person I would've been if things had been different. If I'd been happy back then."

"You ever wish you could do it over?"

You hesitated, then shook your head. "No if it meant I wouldn't end up here. With you."

Dean's lips parted slightly, like you just knocked the wind out of him. Then, after a second, he cleared his throat and smirked. "Damn. You keep talkin' like that, and I'm gonna have to start writing poetry."

"Oh, please. I'd love to hear your poetry."

Dean straightened, putting on a dramatic voice. "Roses are red, Impala is black. Every time you kiss me, I forget how to act."

You laughed and planted a sloppy kiss on his lips. "That was beautiful. You should publish that."

Dean grinned. "Oh, totally. I heard bad poetry is in high demand."

"Then congrats, baby, you're about to be a bestseller."

You sat like that for a while, the laughter fading into something softer, warmer. Then, as the song playing on the radio faded into another slow melody, Dean suddenly sat up.

"Alright, that's it." He turned to you with a grin. "We're fixin' this."

You blinked. "Uh… Fixing what?"

He hopped off the hood, holding out a hand to you. "We missed out on stupid teenage things, right? So let's make up for it. Starting with a slow prom dance under the stars."

You huffed a small laugh but didn't resist when he took your hand, helping you down. The second you were standing, Dean turned, grabbed a soft flannel blanket from the basket, and carefully draped it over your shoulders.

"Wouldn't want my girl gettin' cold." he murmured, making sure it wrapped snugly around you. Then, with a boyish smirk, he added: "Also, this way you can't run when I step on your toes."

You giggled. "Wow. Confidence through the roof, Winchester."

Dean just grinned and pulled you closer, swaying you two gently to the quiet music playing from the Impala's radio.

At first, it was ridiculous. He exaggerated his steps like some old-school ballroom instructor, guiding you dramatically across the dirt like you were at some grand gala instead of parked on an empty hill. But you played along, batting your lashes and letting out an over-the-top sigh, as if you'd just been swept into the most magical moment of your life.

Then, somewhere along the way, the teasing melted into something softer.

Your movements slowed, your bodies falling into an easy rhythm. Your arms looped around Dean's neck, your fingers absentmindedly curling into his hair. His hands settled at your waist, thumbs drawing lazy circles through the fabric of your clothing. The blanket cocooned you in warmth, shielding you from the cold night air.

For a while, you just swayed. No words, no hurry. Just you two, the hum of the radio, the distant chirp of crickets, and the glow of the stars above.

Then Dean dipped his head, his nose brushing lightly against yours. His voice was quieter now, softer. "Y'know… I think I like our version of prom better."

You smiled up at him. "Yeah?"

"Mmhm." His voice was lazy. "No bad music. No ugly corsages. And best of all…" His lips quirked up. "I get to kiss the prettiest girl here."

You barely had time to catch your breath before Dean tilted his head, capturing your lips in a slow, lingering kiss. This one wasn't playful or teasing— it was deep, unhurried, and sure. Reassuring. Reassuring in a way that told you you didn't miss out on anything, everything little step in life brought you here. To him. And you knew, that this was more meaningful and real than any ghost of a never-happened memory.

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 3

I'm on a roll- don't expect it to last :)) but as of right now, Chapter 4 is done, Chapter 5 will be started, and I feel like each one will be longer and longer than the last- hope ch4 was just a one in a trillion thing

First || previous<< Chapter 3 >>next

Sleeping that night seemed to be a struggle on its own, nightmares plaguing your mind left and right. You’d fall asleep for 30 minutes and wake up, fall asleep for another 30 minutes and wake up again, and again, and again, giving up once you woke up at 03:33 am. No use in trying to sleep if you’re just going to wake up crying and gasping for air, heart pumping so hard you could hear the blood running through your veins.

You needed air, wanted something less stuffing than the four walls that seemed to close in around your shaking form. With bare feet, you made your way across the manor towards the garden. May as well try and do something productive.

The garden was loved and taken care of, once upon a time. The plants were dead, the trees dried beyond help, and the dirt may need to be changed as well if the roots have gone putrid and rotten, just to be sure. It’ll take years to bring the space to its glory, to how it looked in the painting, but you could feel it in your bones that it will be worth it.

Diverting your attention from the nightmares to the garden helped ease the shaking, the fear. The more you thought about the nightmares, the more you didn’t know which one scared you the most. Between relieving your mom’s death, accepting she was dead, that you’ll never see her again, that you didn’t even know where they buried her- and seeing Bruce as the one holding the gun, firing it at your mom, at you, and then laughing with glee, saying something you didn’t quite remember…  You couldn’t decide which one you hated the most.

Your eyes trailed the walls of the manor, up to the roof, and back down. You wanted to call him dad, hug him, have him come to your recitals and activities, and have him love you like Officer Gordon said he would. And yet, no matter how close he seemed to you, he was farther away than the moon. You hoped it was just your awkward self, that maybe your anxieties were putting ideas where there shouldn’t be any. Today’s breakfast only seemed to fortify said anxieties.

“When will I go back to school?” The question fell from your lips so quietly, and the silence it created made you sink into yourself. Bruce’s eyes had been glancing at you non-stop, but now they were fixated on you, non-blinking. He hummed, low and thoughtful. “You’ll be moved to online schooling. After what happened to your mom, I feel it will be safer for you to stay inside the manor for a while”

“For forever.” The shadows hissed in his ear, but Bruce simply cleared his throat, checked his watch, and left, Richard following soon after at the man’s nudging. Bruce will drive Dick to school. Your eyes remained on your plate as they left, remaining quiet for a while.

“Mama said I should make friends.” Your teary eyes met Alfred’s again as your lip trembled. “How will I make friends if I can’t go outside?” The older man’s hands were rubbing together behind his back. He felt as inexperienced as when Bruce was a toddler, as unsure of what to do as when he was with his father. That was a rare feeling for the man.

With a soft sigh and a shaky hand placed on the young kid’s shoulder, Alfred did what he did best. “I am sure you will have many opportunities to make friends, young miss.” He lied. You knew he was, and yet you held onto the hope. Bruce said it’ll only be for a while- so maybe, just maybe, in high school, you’ll have tons of friends.

You finished your plate, eyes still wet, but at least you didn’t cry. Your insistence to help Alfred was only met with a soft smile and a shake of his head, the man insisting on you enjoying the free time you have, telling you that perhaps you should go and buy some clothes, some decorations for your room.

Again, you mentioned the insanity of leaving a kid to buy whatever they wanted, but Alfred only laughed. “Can- is there a laptop I can use? Mama always let me on hers when we ordered something online. It’ll be easier for me…” You asked so softly, almost going into rambling as anxiety of sounding like a brat, like you were ungrateful for the phone, settled in.

Alfred didn’t even blink, no muscle on his face twitched as he only nodded, saying he’ll bring one to your room straight away. That was easier than expected. You were so used to your mom saying no, or bargaining with her for new shoes, and you understood- you didn’t have that much money, could barely scrap by… But the way the Waynes threw money around felt irresponsible. Does Bruce truly make that much money that he doesn’t have to worry about losing his home? What if he loses it all one day? Does he have a savings account? Your tummy didn’t feel good worrying about all that, mama always said that only adults should worry about money.

You don’t think your mom would like Bruce very much. That thought filtered through your brain for quite a while as you looked up how to take care of a garden and specific plants you wanted to see bloom. He was so cold, distant, creepy, and secretive. Your mother always dreamed of a loving man, strong but gentle. You never understood why she put up with the men she hung out with considering they were exactly like Bruce.

Alfred interrupted your musing as he knocked, opening the door only when he heard your voice. He left the laptop and its charger on the desk, and his only words were to inform you of the timetable for eating.  “But, of course, if you get hungry before then, you’re more than welcome to the kitchen, young miss.” And he left just as fast as he came, barely having the time to ask where your mother would be buried. You doubted Bruce would hold a funeral for her. Alfred just said he’ll look into it.

With a small huff, you went and plugged the charger into the wall and laptop before opening it. Bruce gave you the card to use, and if he can’t be bothered to go with you to stores, you can surely get whatever you want. He’s so rich, you can bleed him dry a bit.

In the end, you didn’t. You felt too guilty about buying clothes and things for the garden, so your desires for those shiny metallic watercolors and 360 markers were exchanged for a few sketchbooks and graphite pens. Your mother is rolling in her grave at how much you spent, you were sure, so you rationalized the guilt to simply wanting to perfect your skills before buying those fancy things.

You got the clothes a size or two bigger, just like mami did, so they’ll fit you for longer. Simple things, pajamas, socks, underwear, and a few pairs of jeans and T-shirts, things she’d buy for you since you were unsure of what you were supposed to get.

You hoped Bruce wouldn’t be too angry, he was a scary man now, and you dreaded to see him angry. On the garden side of things, you may have overindulged. From all the tools you got, to the kind of soil, to the types of flowers, to making sure you got beds for the plants. The soil outside truly looked beyond saving. But if he was okay with Richard’s desire for more gymnastics equipment, surely he'd be fine with this.

At lunch, you were informed by Alfred that Bruce and Dick won’t attend dinner. It didn’t surprise you, however, it still felt like they were avoiding you, and it still hurt. Perhaps this will be the new normal, the everyday occurrence. Maybe this was normal for them, you were sure high school and work kept them both busy… Will they ever have time for you?

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae Forgot the tags D: my bad

[prettyboyeddiemunson]

guilty as sin?

summary: eddie and y/n watch a special movie and get up to things.

word count: 3.9k

warnings/notes: smut, watching p*rn, masturbation (m & f), fingering, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, squirting

a/n: this is a blurb that ties in with my gods & monsters series on ao3! as usual, reader is 18+! also this was supposed to include her touching herself a little longer than i originally planned, but this thing took on a life of its own as soon as i started writing it. i hope you enjoy!

————————————-

“are you excited for this, baby?”

y/n was sitting on her parents’ bed, waiting for eddie to get the movie ready. she had never seen it before—something called “porn.” she knew what that was, of course, but she had never seen it. she and eddie had been having sex for a month, and he had suggested it to her one night as they lay together. she was open to it, even if she was a little bit nervous about it. she watched as eddie tinkered with the vcr, her legs dangling off the edge of the bed as she swung them. 

“a little,” she answered, sitting back on her elbows. “is it going to work?”

“yeah, it should,” he said. “this tape sometimes likes to be eaten, which I find ironic, considering..”

she giggled, couldn't help it. “oh yeah? is there a lot of that in it?”

“a fair amount,” he said. “it has your favorite.”

“which one?” she asked. “I have a lot of favorites.”

“eating out after being creampied,” eddie said, hitting play. “i think it’s going to work, baby. let’s lie back and watch it.”

she lay back with him, falling into his arms. she snuggled against him, watching as the movie began with a disclaimer. she looked up at eddie, who was looking down at her with a grin. she leaned up and kissed him, and he returned the kiss feverishly. she whimpered against his lips, biting at his lower lip as he growled into the kiss. she chuckled and kissed him harder, her fingers tangling in the ends of his hair. he drew back after a moment, his grin widening as he stroked her cheek.

“save it,” he said. “i want to see how you act when we start the movie.”

“is it gonna start yet?” she asked. “I didn’t think these kinds of movies had this many credits.”

“yeah, it’s about to start now,” eddie said. “see?”

she started watching the movie, snuggled up against eddie. the movie started off like any normal movie would. a woman answered the door in lingerie, greeting the repairman as he ogled her. y/n rolled her eyes at the ridiculousness of it, but kept watching. the woman led the man in to where the hot water tank was, showing him the problem and leaving him to fix it. as he was doing so, the woman went into her bedroom, laid back on the bed, and started touching herself as she moaned loudly and in exaggeration. y/n wasn’t fazed yet, but kept watching. eddie was looking at her for a reaction, and she smiled at him as she kissed him again.

“what do you think so far?” he asked.

“i think this is really weird so far,” she said. “people enjoy this?”

he chuckled. “yeah, but it gets better. you should keep watching.”

she did, watching as the man came to find the woman. the woman was still touching herself and moaning, and the man found her and dropped his toolbox. y/n giggled and kept watching, the man walking into the room and watching the woman on the bed. the woman opened her legs wider for invitation and the camera did a close up of her pussy. y/n looked away then, blushing and shy. eddie chuckled, kissing her hair and drawing her tighter against him. she kept watching; it was like a trainwreck she couldn’t look away from. 

“it’s about to get good, baby,” eddie said, squeezing her tighter. “just watch.”

“I hope so,” she said. “i'm bored so far.”

he laughed, shaking his head. “you really don’t have much patience, do you?”

“hmm, no,” she said. “is the good stuff about to happen?”

“yep,” he said. “watch.”

she kept watching, and eddie had been right. soon the man was eating her out, messily and noisily over the music. y/n watched, fascinated, as he worked, her eyes big and her mouth hanging open. eddie saw her awestruck expression and laughed, kissing her deeply as she pressed her body against his. she tangled her fingers in his hair, lifting one of her legs over his hip and grinding against him slightly. eddie moaned low in his throat, his hand coming down to squeeze her ass. she whined, pushing herself against him more urgently before he drew back to look down at her. 

“fuck,” he said. “already getting desperate, huh?”

“just because it’s you,” she said. “i’m always desperate for you.”

“so i see,” he teased, poking her nose. “i think it’s adorable.”

“let’s keep watching,” she said. “i wanna see what happens next.”

the man kept eating the woman out, y/n watching as eddie kissed her neck. she giggled, still watching the movie as eddie’s hand came up her shirt. she swatted it at away and he did it again, squeezing her breast and playfully biting at her neck. she let him that time, knowing that it was a losing battle, anyway. she turned to kiss him as the woman’s moans grew louder, and he tugged at her lower lip with his teeth. she gasped, pulling at his hair before she allowed him to take her shirt off. he kissed her breasts over her bra, exploring with his mouth and hands. she mewled, pressing her body against his and tugging at his hair as he, too, moaned. 

“you’re the eager one now,” she said, giggling. “you’re all eager for me.”

“I always am,” he said, smirking. “just like you are for me.”

“I can’t help it with you,” she said. “you’re just so hot.”

“you’re the hottest woman in the world, baby,” he said, tracing her nipple through the fabric of her bra. “can i take your clothes off? i have an idea.”

“what’s your idea?” she asked.

“i want you to touch yourself for me,” he said. “while you watch the movie.”

she blushed. “oh…”

“do you want to?” he asked.

“mmm hmm,” she said. “even though i’m a little nervous.”

“it’s okay,” he said. “i can talk you through it, if you want me to.”

“okay,” she said, standing up to take her clothes off. she laid next to him fully naked, her cheeks hot. “i’m here now.” 

“good girl,” eddie said, smirking as he studied her nude body. “you’re so beautiful.”

her cheeks heated more, and a giggle passed her lips. “you think so?”

“I know so,” he said, taking her hand and guiding it between her legs. “be a good girl for me now.”

she started slowly running her fingers through her folds, a whine passing her lips. she watched the movie for a moment, but it wasn’t doing much for her anymore. the man went from eating her out to fucking her, but it seemed so fake that it was almost laughable. she turned her attention from the movie back to eddie, who was watching her with hungry eyes. she giggled and kept going, her fingers massaging as eddie licked his lips. 

“I wish you would touch me, too,” she said.

“I will later,” he said. “for now, I just wanna watch you do it. rub your clit for me.”

she kept going, swirling her fingers through her folds as she felt herself getting more wet. she moaned as she rubbed her clit, looking over at eddie to see what he was doing. he had pulled his cock out and was jerking himself off, his mouth slack as his fist moved slowly over his erection. she looked back at the movie and saw the man still fucking the woman, absolutely drilling her as she moaned exaggeratedly. y/n had to suppress an eye roll; it was so over the top that it was almost laughable. she didn’t want to hurt eddie’s feelings, though, so she kept herself under control. 

“just like that,” he said, groaning as he kept going. “that’s my good fucking girl.”

“it feels so good,” she gasped. “but I want you to touch me now.”

“not yet,” he said. “soon, though, I promise. finger yourself for me.”

she did so, inserting two fingers inside of herself as she moaned. her back arched and she pushed them deeper, down to the last knuckle. eddie watched her, the movie forgotten by both of them as they watched each other work. she moaned as she fucked herself, her fingers working quickly as her thumb swiped at her clit. eddie kept watching her, his gaze never wavering as he stroked his cock. he didn’t speed up, but instead kept a steady pace that was more in tune with her own movements. 

“please,” she begged. “I want you to touch me.”

“oh yeah?” he asked, smirking. “you can’t stand it any longer, can you?”

“no,” she said. “please..”

he took her hand and guided it, pushing her fingers in and out of her pussy as he rubbed her clit. she whined, allowing him to do it as he leaned down to suck on one of her nipples. she moaned, fingering herself deeper as her stomach began to tighten. she grabbed his hair and pulled, arching her back as he moaned against her skin. his free hand kept stroking his cock, his movements getting faster as her orgasm approached. 

“i’m getting so close,” she warned, bucking her hips to meet her own touch. “i want to cum on your tongue.”

“oh?” he asked, smirking. “that’s what you want, huh?”

“yes it is,” she said. “please.”

“well…since you asked so nicely…” he said, withdrawing his hand from her and from himself and kneeling in front of her. “i guess we’ll have to do it then, won’t we?”

“please yes,” she begged. “please, i don’t like begging so much.”

“poor thing,” eddie said, kissing her inner thighs. “you poor thing.”

“don’t tease me,” she said. “you’ve done enough of that already.”

“why not?” he asked, smirking at her. “i think it’s fun to watch you squirm.”

“because i just want you to do it already!” she said with a roll of her eyes. “it’s been too long!”

“okay, okay,” he said, licking a stripe up her pussy and moaning. “fuck, you taste so good. so sweet.”

she mewled, and eddie dove in. he ate her out feverishly, as if he were a man starving. she grabbed hold of his hair, her thighs already quivering as he worked on her. he looked up at her over her mound, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he pushed his tongue inside of her. she moaned, bucking her hips slightly as he smirked against her. she wanted to slap his head for that, but she was too engrossed in what he was doing to give it much more thought. he gripped her thighs tightly, as if he were a man drowning and was clinging to his only salvation, and she welcomed the thought of the bruises it might leave behind. she did love being marked up by him, after all, and he was doing a good job of that tonight.

“your parents would be so pissed if they could see us right now,” eddie said. “especially your dad.”

“fuck him,” she said. “i don’t care what he thinks about us.”

“neither do i,” he said, sucking on her clit for a moment as she gasped. “was that good?”

“mmm hmm,” she hummed, tugging at his hair as he pushed two fingers inside of her. “please keep going.”

“i really need to fuck you soon,” he said, chuckling against her as he sucked on her clit again. “i’m about to burst.”

“come here, then,” she said. “fuck me.”

“yeah?” he asked, smiling at her. his face glistened with her juices, and he didn’t make any effort to wipe it away. “you don’t wanna cum on my tongue first?”

“hmm, okay,” she said. “i am pretty close.”

“okay, baby,” he said, diving back in. “i’ll give you what you want.”

it didn’t take much longer. a few more sucks of her clit and fucking her on his fingers and she was letting go, crying out his name and cumming all over his face. he smiled, sitting back and watching as she experienced her high. when she came down from it, he kissed his way up her body and sucked on each breast before smashing his lips to hers in a passionate kiss. she whined, kissing him back and tasting herself on his lips & tongue. he kissed her deeply, lining himself up with her pussy and slapping his dick against it. she giggled, pushing her hips forward in invitation. he sought her consent with a look and she nodded, giving him permission. he slid inside of her with ease and she moaned, clinging to his back as he moaned low in her ear.

“christ, you feel so fucking good,” he breathed. “you’re so goddamn wet.”

“all for you,” she said. “just for you.”

“yeah?” he asked. “just for me, huh? no one else?”

“nope, no one else,” she said. “please fuck me now.”

“how do you want it?” he asked, giving one shallow, slow thrust as he looked down at her. “fast and hard or slow and soft?”

“fast and hard, please,” she said, clinging to his back and looking into his eyes. “i want you to be rough like they’re being in the movie.”

indeed they were. in the movie, the man had taken to fucking the woman from behind as hard and as fast as was humanly possible. y/n didn’t think it WAS possible; he was going almost like a jackhammer. she wondered if they used special effects even in those kind of movies, and found that she didn’t much care one way or another. she was focused on her own pleasure right now, not some imaginary, fake pleasure in the movie. the woman was moaning and yelling on the tv and y/n had to suppress another eye roll at how fake it all sounded. surely she didn’t sound like that, did she?

“eddie,” she said, moaning as he pushed himself even deeper inside of her. “do i sound like that woman?”

“hm?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at the tv before shaking his head. “no, baby, you don’t. your moans are so much hotter because yours are actually real.”

“really?” she asked, hooking her legs around his waist and pulling him in as deeply as he could go. “maybe you should start fucking me then so you can hear them.”

“wow,” he said, starting to thrust as he smirked down at her. “i’m impressed, y/n. you went from this good catholic girl to my own personal porn star. when the hell did that happen?”

she giggled, digging her heels into his ass. “it happened as soon as you started fucking me. i was really missing out, but i honestly never wanted to do it with anyone until you came along. the thought of it kinda grossed me out before.”

“oh yeah?” eddie asked, groaning as he began to pick up the pace a little. “all those good catholic boys and steve turned your stomach, huh?”

“well, steve was okay, i guess,” she said. “but the other ones were all gross and i think they were secretly doing it behind their parents’ backs.”

“just like you’re doing now, huh?” he teased, leaning down to kiss her neck. “you’re so funny sometimes.”

“i’m gonna get really funny if you don’t shut up and fuck me,” she said.

“so bossy,” he said, leaving a mark on her neck and laughing. “oops, you might have to wear a scarf for a little bit.”

“i don’t care,” she said. “please.”

“alright,” he said, looking down at her again as he began to move faster.

she gasped as he began to ram directly against her sweet spot, her eyes rolling back for a moment as she clung to him tightly. he moaned in her ear as he thrust deeply, making sure to rail her with every thrust inward. he kissed her sloppily, their tongues meeting before their lips, their moans lost in each other’s mouths as she dug her nails slightly into his back. he groaned at the contact, drawing back to look down at her as his movements increased. she could feel her stomach tightening already, and she opened her mouth to tell him she was close. before she could tell him, though, she was cumming hard, her nails scratching hard down his back as he moaned deep in his throat. she soaked the bed below them, her mouth agape as her head was thrown back. eddie was kissing her neck again, dipping low to get what he could reach of her chest, smiling against her skin as he did so.

“that’s my good girl,” he said. “there she is.”

“don’t stop,” she begged. “please don’t stop.”

“i wasn’t planning on it anytime soon, baby,” he said, kissing her gently on the lips. “i’m gonna make you cum again.”

“are you?” she asked.

“yes i am,” he said. “i’m going to make you scream this time. louder than that woman on tv.”

she had largely forgotten the movie until then, and she looked over his shoulder to see what was happening. it seemed as if it were pretty much over; the man was slowing down and the woman had quieted some. she focused her attention back to eddie, smiling up at him as she pulled him down for another kiss. he kept going, and she whined as he pushed against her sensitive sweet spot, but it still felt so good. she felt dizzy, exhilarated, and as if she were on top of the world. she clenched around him once, twice, and felt him twitch inside of her. that was a bad idea, then; she didn’t want him cumming too soon, after all. she ran her hands down his back to soothe the scratches she left, and was surprised to see that his back was sticky. she drew her hands back and saw a little blood on them, and she looked up at him in alarm. he chuckled, shaking his head as he kissed over her face.

“nah, it’s okay,” he said. “i like it.”

“but doesn’t it hurt?” she asked. “i would think that it would hurt.”

“not really,” he said. “i think it feels good.”

“oh,” she said, her own skin slick with sweat as his, too, became wet. “are you getting close?”

“yep, i’m getting there,” he said, rubbing her clit in fast, hard circles. “how about you?”

“i think so,” she said. “i want you to cum inside of me.”

“you do?” he asked. “usually you don’t want that.”

“i do now,” she said. “please, i don’t care. it’ll be fine.”

“are you sure?” he asked, his hair hanging down as he gazed at her. “i don’t want you to get pregnant.”

“i’m fine right now,” she said. “i promise. i’d tell you to use a condom if i wasn’t.”

“are you going to go get on birth control like you said?” he asked.

“yep,” she said. “i made the appointment for next week.”

“good girl,” he said, moaning as he kept going. “fuck, i don’t know how much longer i can hold off.” 

“me either,” she said, gasping loudly as he rubbed her clit again. “fuck, this feels so good!”

“yeah?” he asked, smirking. “i’m glad you think so, baby.”

“i really do!” she said, clenching around him again. “you’re so big.”

“and you’re so fucking wet,” he said. “the wettest pussy in the whole world and it’s all mine.”

“all yours,” she echoed, her mouth agape as he started absolutely pounding her. “eddie!”

“let go,” he said, rubbing her clit harder and faster. “go on, baby.”

she didn’t need to be told twice. a few minutes later she came hard again, squirting all over eddie and the bed, her eyes rolled back as she screamed his name. she scratched him hard again, more blood being drawn as he growled in her ear. her own orgasm was followed by his own not even a minute later, and he came deep inside of her with a moan of her name. he rocked his hips to a stop, pulling out of her and collapsing next to her on the bed. he reached for his cigarettes, lighting one and offering her a drag. she took it, giggling at the thought of her parents smelling cigarette smoke in their bedroom. she would air it out as best as she could before they got back, but it was still hilarious to her that her dad might blow his top over it. normally that would have bothered her, but not now. the movie had ended, she and eddie were content, and that’s all that mattered to her.

“i love you,” he said, holding her with one arm as he used the other to smoke. “i love you so much.”

“i love you, too,” she said, snuggling up to him and kissing over his tattoos on his chest. “i really love you so much.”

“i’m so glad that you do,” he said, taking a long drag of his cigarette and slowly exhaling the smoke. “you’re everything to me, y/n. everything and so much more.”

“i think you’re the best,” she said. “i couldn’t have asked for a better boyfriend.”

“and i couldn’t have asked for a better girlfriend,” he said, kissing her hair. “i truly mean that.”

she giggled, kissing his tattoos again as she looked up at him. “i kinda wish we could go again.”

he laughed as well, shaking his head as he kissed her sweetly. “give me about an hour and maybe we’ll talk. i could use a shower, though.”

“me too,” she said. “maybe we could take one after you smoke your cigarette.”

“yeah, we should,” he said, trailing his fingers down her back. “y/n?”

“yeah?”

“your dad is going to kill me for this.”

“i’ll make sure he doesn’t.”

“you don’t mind that i’m doing it?”

“no.”

“good.”

they lay in silence for a little bit, until eddie stamped out his cigarette and got up. he held his hand out for her and she took it, walking to her parents’ bathroom and starting the shower. before they stepped in, she was silent, looking down at the floor as eddie looked at her in concern. 

“what is it?” he asked. “are you okay?”

“yeah,” she said, looking up at him with a smile. “i was just thinking.”

“uh oh, that’s dangerous,” he teased.

she rolled her eyes. “never mind.”

“no, tell me,” he said. “i’m sorry.”

“i was thinking about how i’d like to watch more movies like that,” she said. “i had fun tonight.”

“oh yeah?” eddie asked. “well, i’ve got more. maybe we can watch another one tomorrow.”

“i’d like that,” she said, pulling him toward the shower. “come on, let’s get in.” 

[francesderwent]

thinking about snarky cultural/theological commentary and. the thing about snark is this: it’s easy, and it’s instant gratification. it’s easy because you’re playing to a likeminded audience. you get the way they think, you know the sort of things they find ridiculous, and so you know what’s going to play well with them. it’s not that hard to come up with a zinger that’s going to earn you applause from your own side. it’s also pretty easy to make another human being who’s not on your side look stupid, because we’re stupid creatures and we all have plenty of exploitable weak spots. it’s preaching to the choir, and it’s preaching meanly to the choir. and then, your snark bears all its fruit right away. you get the glowing feeling of having scored points against the enemy while being patted on the back by your friends for being so brave. if you succeeded in being snarky, you get the rewards of snark that very instant.

on the other hand, seeking to share the truth you possess in a mode in which it could actually be received—that is, says St Thomas, according to the mode of the recipient—that’s hard, and it’s so far from being instantly gratifying that you may never see the fruits of it in this life. not only are you not thinking about your likeminded audience, you’re not even going to trot out the truth simply in the way you understand it and call it your best effort. rather, you have to try to get inside your interlocutor’s frame of mind and understand how the truth you know is going to fulfill their own priorities and longings. you have to understand them so well that you see the truth of their position, even if that truth is buried very very deep, and then see how that truth connects them to the truth you see. you have to be insightful, and compassionate, and so, so patient. you don’t get to score any points, with anybody. your interlocutor might still get annoyed with you and turn around and make you look stupid. but you can’t just say “I’m going to speak the truth and I don’t care who hears and how they take it”—you have to care how they take it, because the truth is relational, it’s given and received, not just spouted into a void. and frankly you have to care how they take it because you have to care about their salvation.

don’t get me wrong, there are times in every person’s life when they will be called to stand up and be counted, to put fumbling words to what they hold most dear even if they can’t make everyone understand. but I don’t know that it’s a virtue to be always focused on being seen saying the truth, with no consideration given to who hears you and what they’ll hear in it—and it’s certainly not a virtue to be always focused on being seen saying the truth in a mean and funny way. “instruct the ignorant” is a spiritual work of mercy. but instruct the ignorant does not mean “instruct the ignorant while making the knowledgeable laugh and/or high five.”

[vellazx]

Reincarnated!Roger Luffy x Reincarnated!Rouge Reader — a small drabble of mine!

It was hard working for the Navy, whenever the man whom you adored so dearly was bound to be your enemy for life.

How it happened? It was a long story… And you couldn’t quite put it all into words.

It started two years ago, all the way back in Alabasta, when you were sent out for a job with your coworker, Smoker.

The two of you could be considered as ‘friends’. He rambled to you the whole way there about a wanted pirate who went by the name of ‘Straw Hat Luffy’, at the time bearing a 30 million Berry bounty.

He was just a rookie. It would be easy for someone of your rank to take him down. You were respected by even the three Admirals themselves, probably only a level below them in terms of power.

So why was it that when you did come face to face with him, the two of you just locked eyes, as if entranced by each other.

Your heart skipped a beat in that very moment. And for some reason, he smiled at you, making your sudden jittery behavior and nervousness a thousand times worse.

You were so ashamed of yourself. You allowed him to simply run past you with that toothy grin of his, beaming with confidence and recklessness.

Smoker didn’t let you off lightly after watching that scene. But you didn’t argue against him, no. You fully believed you deserved it.

But why did that happen in the first place? He was a pirate, and you didn’t take yourself as the type to fall in love at first sight. You’ve never done that.

You couldn’t continue to help Smoker and the swordswoman always by his side, Tashigi, in capturing the Straw Hats. Especially their captain.

It was like your body acted on its own, forcing you to leave. After that encounter, you endured a mental crisis for nearly an entire month.

He just felt so… familiar. It unsettled you.

Why did it feel like you had met him before?

After Alabasta, you somehow ended getting tied up in his daily pirate schemes, as if you just couldn’t escape him.

Sabaody Archipelago, the Navy Headquarters, Punk Hazard… You could name even more times that you’ve met with him in abnormal circumstances.

And every time you fought him, every accidental brush of hands that made your cheeks heat up, your feelings got worse, and worse, and worse…

Why him?

Of all people, why him?

To make things worse, you could feel yourself… distancing from your duty. Your job. Like he was influencing you.

You started thinking weird things, strange things.

‘The World Government? I don’t trust them.’

You didn’t trust them? Yes you did. They wanted justice for the world, and you did, too.

‘They’re corrupted.’

No they aren’t.

‘In the name of justice? Don’t make me laugh. They don’t care about justice… They only want power.’

It was like there was a second voice in your head. An alter ego, almost…

All the while, in the midst of those thoughts… Your mind always reeled back to him. His stupid face that made your heart flutter. That smile of his, that was so infectious you couldn’t help but return a smile, which you didn’t realize most of the time.

He would point it out mid-fight, too.

“Hey, you’re smiling!”

“You’re seeing things, Straw Hat!”

You also couldn’t help but realize that during your meaningless duels, all his attention would be solely on you. Of course, when fighting someone, that was normal. But the way he looked at you… Did enemies look at each other like that?

His eyes shone, full of adoration. He always smiled at you, even if you wanted him to take you seriously. He didn’t gaze at you like he did his other opponents. He always stared them down with anger, or irritation.

He hardly knew anything about you, other than how well you fought when you clashed on the battlefield. But at the same time, he felt like he knew everything about you.

It took you by surprise one day, when he opened up his own confusion to you.

“It feels like I’ve met you before. Before Vivi’s country!”

Before Alabasta? That was where you first met two years ago.

And he was saying that he felt like he knew you before your meeting in the country?

“You must be crazy, Straw Hat…”

You said that, but you felt the same. And… he said he felt the same. You would’ve never expected him to be on the road of confusion, as you were.

You hated to admit it, but Straw Hat Luffy was the center of your thoughts ever since your first meeting. He indirectly influenced you, resulting in you slowly developing a distasteful attitude toward the World Government and all your coworkers.

He’s never even said anything to you about hating the World Government, yet your thoughts of him were changing you.

For better, or for worse? You had no idea.

It was impossible for you to deny the way your eyes softened, and the way your muscles became less tense when he was around.

In battle, you’d have to be the one to fight him if you were present. No one else. Not even if an Admiral offered to assist you in taking him down.

Because for some reason… For some odd, odd reason…

…You were paranoid that they’d be able to defeat him, and he’d die on an execution platform, leaving you alone with your feelings until your own death.

Why did it feel like… that’s already happened before?

You couldn’t let it happen again.

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Changing Perspective (Part 6)

Previous | Masterpost

Damian came back from the shopping trip with tighter and more slick clothes then Danny in dark colours, which wasn’t really surprising and would help differentiate them more. He also came back with some books on animal biology, and a stuffed lion of his own, which Danny didn’t comment on lest Damian feel self conscious. He was glad Damian had been able to summon the courage to get a stuffed animal of his own, Danny knew he wanted one, no matter how much the sterner twin would deny it. They got home in time for dinner so Danny got to hear about their outing at the same time as the rest of the family. He was pretty sure he’d hear more about how it made Damian feel later when they were alone, but Danny was very glad it seemed to have gone well.

When dinner was over he followed Damian up to his room, ducking in behind him and closed the door behind them. He went and sat cross-legged on Damian’s bed while he started to unpack and put away his new things, setting up some of the decorations he got as well. Danny picked up the lion, running his fingers over its fur. It was softer then his alien but he liked his alien better anyway.

“So, how do you feel?” He asked, glancing up at his brother.

Damian sneered at the question but Danny didn’t back down, sitting in silence for a while, long enough that someone who didn’t know Damian might think he really wasn’t going to answer at all. Danny knew better, so he waited for his brother to organize his thoughts and gain the courage to actually speak openly about his emotions. “I enjoyed it, it was sort of overwhelming, but you warned me it would be. It was very nice going to the zoo, seeing all the animals. I made sure that it was a charity organization that treated the animals well before I let father take me,” He said thoughtfully, without looking up at Danny.

“Father told me that we might be able to get a pet here, there’s plenty of space after all. He was vague about a timeline but it didn’t seem like a lie. I asked what the point of all these ornaments was and he laughed at me and said ‘to bring you joy,’ which is… the oddest answer I could imagine. But these things, they do make me happy to look at,” He ran his fingers over a little figurine of a horse and it’s foal he’d put on his bedside table. “Having an animal of my own would make me happier still, but it scares me as well. Such a weakness, it could easily be used against us. Even a treasured possession is a weakness I should not want, and yet do.”

Danny hummed to show we has listening and rocked back and forth a bit as he thought about how to respond. “We’re not going to get a pet immediately, like you said he wasn’t firm about a time-frame. And it will be our time frame as well, we don’t have to agree to get a pet until we can trust it will be relatively safe. The manor is well guarded, and even though we don’t trust our adopted siblings, or fully father yet, we do know that they’re heroes don’t we? I don’t think there’s any way any of them would hurt an innocent animal to get back at us, no matter how much they hate us, and I don’t get the impression they hate us. Do you?”

“They could be hiding their intentions,” Damian shot back defensively.

“They could be,” Danny allowed inclining his head a little bit. “But they’d have to be very good at it wouldn’t they? We’ve both been taught to recognize body language, me even more so then you. If they could hide something from me they’d honestly be the first. I could pretty reliably even read grandfather by the age of eight,” Danny pointed out.

Damian hummed thoughtfully at that. “You still trust me don’t you?” Danyal asked tilting his head and looking at his brother with puppy-dog eyes. His brother looked back at him and sighed rather dramatically, rolling his eyes.

“Of course I do,” He agreed grumpily.

“Good, then trust me that I have seen no signs of deceit. I spent more time with both Tim and Dick today and it seems to me that, while they’re wary of us because we’re new, they have honest intentions and don’t want to hurt us,” Danny reassured, setting the stuffed lion down on his bed. “I’ll leave you to unpack and think about that. If you need me, come in or knock on the wall and I’ll come to you,” he promised and got up, trotting out of the room and back to his own to relax and read.

The next morning Bruce called them back into his office so they could help write the press release about the twins. It was nice to have a say in how the media and public would first find out about them, Bruce choosing to share some personal details about them that would help humanize them, like their interest and how they’d lived with their mother and controlling grandfather previously. Danny would have added that Grandfather was abusive but Damian still bristled at the suggestion so controlling and sheltered was about the best they were going to get. Bruce booked the press conference for the next day once he had their approval and then left them to their own devices for the day, letting them explore and settle in.

That was how the next few months went really, they met Barbra, and Clark Kent, and a few more family friends. Slowly expanding the circle of people they knew, easing them in to socializing more. They sparred with whoever was present and wanted to each morning, most often Cass, but sometimes Tim, or even Bruce. Damian learned to respect that there were things they could learn from their adopted siblings, and stopped trying to assassinate the others when he realized he wasn’t going to get any support from Bruce or Danny. About the fifth time he was properly scolded and grounded by Bruce for attacking Tim it seemed Damian gave up, though Danny wouldn’t put it past him to try again once they all let their guard down.

Danny was enjoying himself, he didn’t care much for the library, at least not as much as Damian did, but there was a decent non-fiction section with some things that interested him. So they read a lot, he played games with Tim with Damian as an audience sometimes, and most nights they would watch a movie together. Whoever was around would join in as Damian and Danny were caught up on some of the media they had missed being raised in the compound.

They watched a lot of Disney movies, The Hunchback of Notre Dame was Danny’s favourite, the Lion King was Damian’s favourite. He had left the room for a bit after Mufasa’s death to ‘get some fresh air’, they all pretended not to notice he had cried. Danny found it almost funny that Damian would have never cried over a human’s death, but that movie got to him. For all Danny wasn’t glad to see his brother upset, he though it was good for Damian to feel the full range of human emotions.

Finally, one morning after three months at the manner Bruce put down the newspaper he was reading and looked over at the twins. Damian froze in the middle of sneakily slipping his sausage onto Danny’s plate so he wouldn’t have to eat it. Before he could back down Danny reached across and snatched it, casually putting it on his plate and acting like nothing had happened. Bruce frowned at them, glancing back and forth between the twins, at Danny’s blithe smile and Damian’s lack of objection or eye contact, and seemed to decide not to mention it.

“I have an interview scheduled for you two next week, just one for print, and maybe a couple of pictures. If that goes well I would like to bring you both on a talk show so people can actually see you. It won’t stop the paparazzi completely or anything but it would help quell some of the fascination with you two to have some answers.”

Danny glanced at Damian who nodded back at him before he looked at their father, nodding at him with a polite smile. “That should be fine, I can do most of the talking and we can tell them Damian is shy,” He joked, wincing a little when Damian kicked his ankle in retaliation. They would have to talk about it before the interview though. Danny was going to insist Damian let him do the talking, and not argue with him in front of the stranger, especially if they were asked about grandfather. “Who is the interview with?”

“The first one will be with Clark Kent and a Gotham reporter. Clark isn’t from Gotham but I know and trust him, and you’ve met him before so I think he’ll be a good buffer, and a sympathetic ear for your first interview.”

“As long as the people of Gotham won’t be too upset our first interview includes a reporter from Metropolis,” Danyal said with a little frown, Bruce would know better but Danny wasn’t sure.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, it’s well known that Clark is a family friend so they’ll understand,” Bruce assured and Danny nodded, letting his shoulders relax. Bruce new the people of this city better then them after all.

“Alright, will we have access to the questions that they’re going to ask ahead of time?” Danyal asked, leaning forward against the table, having nearly forgotten his breakfast. Damian took the chance to transfer his second sausage to his brothers plate and steal some of his fruit in exchange. Reminded that the food was in front of him Danny stabbed the newly acquired sausage with his fork and took a bite.

“Most of them yes,” Bruce confirmed. “But keep in mind we don’t want the interview to seem too scripted. There will be a couple of questions that I’m allowing to be off the cuff, maybe to follow up on something else said in the interview.”

Danny nodded, that seemed like a good compromise. “That’s fine, but we should still talk generally about the questions we know when they’re submitted. Damian,” He said turning towards his brother. “I want you to let me answer the unscripted questions okay? I’ll tag you in if I need it but you know I’m better with people in situations like this.” Damian scowled but Danyal looked back, open and earnest and after a few moments of a one sided stare off where Damian glared and Danyal continued to blink normally Damian sighed and nodded. “Alright! I think this is going to be just fine.”

“Of course,” Bruce agreed with a reassuring smile, Cass gave them a reassuring smile as well, Tim didn’t seem like he was paying attention.

----------

(Interview with Daily Planet reporter Clark Kent and Gotham Gazette reporter Deb Donovan, written by Deb Donovan)

Bruce Wayne’s newest children, and first biological children Damian and Danyal Al Ghul-Wayne have been mysterious figures since they came to live with their father two months ago. Bruce has been very protective of his two youngest children, insisting that they remain out of the public eye as much as possible while they settled in. Now, with school coming up, Brucie has decided to allow two hand selected reporters to interview his youngest sons, with his supervision of course.

We were welcomed into the mansion, offered refreshments by the familiar figure of the Wayne family’s butler, and lead to a sitting room where Damian and Danyal were already settled. Bruce Wayne, ever the protective dad, hovers off to the side.

(since the twins have the same initials Danyal’s replies will be in italics)

DD: Good morning, Damian, Danyal.

Good morning. It’s nice to meet you miss Donovan, and to see you again Mr. Kent. Please call me Danny.

C: I told you Just Clark is fine Danny. How have you two been settling in with your father?

We’ve been settling in pretty well, though having other siblings has been an adjustment.

DD: Do you and your siblings get along?

They’re tolerable.

(Danny laughs at his brother’s response) An adjustment for sure! But Cass has been teaching us some dance, and Tim is showing us all the movies and game Mother and Grandfather would never let us watch so I’d say we get along just fine. There’ve been some misunderstandings, but given the way Dami and I were raised before coming here that was bound to happen.

C: How were you too raised before moving here?

Well I think the kindest way to describe Mother and Grandfather would be… very strict. They had very high expectations for Damian and I, our grandfather was obsessed with us being heirs to Father’s Legacy, (he makes sarcastic jazz hands). We are both technically geniuses but more then that, we both had to grow up before our time, no time could be ‘wasted’ on play or leisure, we never went to a traditional school because they would only have held us back. We were very isolated, and it wasn’t exactly fun.

DD: So your father really had no idea you two existed?

No, Grandfather and Mother were careful to keep our existence secret until they thought we were ready to take over as his heirs. Grandfather was obsessed with blood and wouldn’t believe Bruce would rather have his adopted children take over things. And can you believe they thought Damian and I were ready to take over?! We’re ten!

(Danny laughs again, Clark and I join in.)

C: To change to a lighter subject; are you two excited for school?

Excited and nervous! Again we’ve never been to a normal school, we haven’t spent, like, any time with people our own age. I’m hoping to make lots of friends.

I’m just worried we will not be academically challenged and they will not be willing to advance us further due to social concerns.

C: I’m sure you have nothing to worry about, I know Bruce has got you both in a gifted program. What do you think your favourite subjects will be?

I love science and engineering, especially the things that I can get hands on with. Chemistry is really fun, and I like taking things apart and tinkering. Astronomy and astrology are what I’m really passionate about but I don’t know if that’s something we’ll have classes on.

I am interested in literature and history. I doubt they’ll really be able to teach me anything new, but at the very least the library should have some books I haven’t read before.

DD: Well the mansion has it's own library doesn’t it? What’s it like having a rich father?

Well he’s the only father we’ve got so we don’t know any different! (Danny laughs) It’s been a bit weird honestly. First week we were here he rented out the entire planetarium for me, and the zoo for Damian. That was weird, but it was weirder still getting to go through the gift shop and just grab whatever we wanted! It was really exciting, but nerve wracking too, like I’d never even had one stuffed animal before! And you’re telling me I can get as many as I want? Let’s just start with one.

We do not intend to waste father’s money on frivolities.

C: What’s your favourite thing you’ve gotten so far?

Oh! Hands down the stuffed grey alien I got! I like the texture of the cloth, it’s really soft.

I like the suits father bought us, they’re very professional.

(Danny sticks his tongue out at his brother, Damian ignores it)

DD: It’s been wonderful to meet you both. I’m sure you’ll do well at school.

It’s been great to meet you too! Sorry Damian didn't say much, he’s shy.

C: That’s perfectly fine, I know there will be chances for other interviews. Maybe even live.

We’re looking forward to it!

-------

Deb and Clark took a few photos of the twins alone and with their father for their articles before they left. As she left the room, escorted out along with Clark, she couldn’t help the shiver that ran up her spine. She had held it together well during the interview but she couldn’t shake the odd feeling that she had just escaped something very dangerous. She was a reporter in Gotham, she was no stranger to danger, and she usually trusted her instincts but these were two children! Not even really pre-teens, so why was her hind-brain screaming PREDATOR!

Sure Damian was a little bit unsettling with the way he sat perfectly straight and glared, but it wasn’t Damian her instinct reacted most strongly to. Danny was sweet, with a bright smile and open posture, but there was still something off, and dangerous about him. In the way light reflected out of his eyes… She just needed to write up the interview, then she could go home and write this off as an odd bout of anxiety.

-------

Danyal finally let himself relax once the reporters were gone, next to him Damian’s shoulders noticeably dropped once they were alone with their father again. All was quiet for a moment Alfred walked in carrying a tray with a pot of tea and a plate with cookies, two for each of them by the looks of it. “I think you all deserve a reward for making it through your first interview. Come sit Master Bruce, I suspect that the interview was nearly as nerve-wracking for you as it was for the boys.”

Bruce chuckled and came to sit down as Danny dove forward to grab one of the cookies. Alfred tutted at Danny's impatience as he poured them each a cup of tea and passed them out.

“I still don’t like the things you said about Mother and Grandfather,” Damian sniffed as he took his own cookie with more dignity.

Danny’s mouth was already full of the buttery sweet treat so he just shrugged as he chewed, swallowing before he answered. “We agreed that it was for the best, this way we don’t have to exert too much energy pretending to be normal children.”

“You mean I won’t, you don’t have any trouble pretending to be ‘normal’,” Damian sneered. There was a long moment of tense silence as Danny refused to look at his brother.

It was rare that Danyal found himself completely at a loss for what to say, but he was now. He was struggling, he found it exhausting interacting with so many people, but he didn’t want to say as much. A part of him felt like Damian wasn’t trying hard enough and he’d be able to do it too if he cared, but Danny hadn’t been able to kill. How had they made him feel about his peaceful nature? He didn’t want to make Damian feel the same way now. The interview had been exhausting, he couldn’t fight with his brother now, even though he knew Damian was just trying to release the tension he too felt in the aftermath. Besides Damian needed to trust Danny's ability to navigate this situation, something that had already been shaken when Damian had realized Danny really wasn't planning on helping them replace their adopted siblings.

“You can have my second cookie Damian,” He sighed, putting down his half full cup of tea and got up. “I’m going to go back to my room.” Damian looked shocked and Bruce looked worried but no one stopped Danny as he left the sitting room. He headed towards his bedroom before changing his mind and heading to the library instead. He wouldn’t be found quite so quickly there and he needed a little time alone, and he didn’t doubt Bruce would try to come check on him.

He found a book and stole a cushion from one of the chairs so he could curl up in a sheltered corner, though he didn’t end up reading the book. He watched a patch of sun move across the floor with the slow passage of time, until he fell asleep curled up on the cushion. It was usually an effective way to avoid his feelings.

[velidewrites]

Do the Vanbros have a favorite childhood memory?

EXCELLENT ask. It's new lore time (sorry in advance)

Sylas will never admit it, but he remembers following Eris around as a child. He remembers seeing Eris as his older brother, someone so strong and impressive and fierce who'd promised to always protect him. He remembers young Eris leaving the Forest House to go on hunts, and he remembers sneaking out to run after him, eyes wide and bright, desperate to be just like him. He remembers, but he won't let himself think about it -- about any of it. Has not thought about it in centuries, for fear that Eris might suddenly become something more than what he is now. An enemy. An obstacle. A target. Sylas only thinks about Beron telling him he's weak, weaker than Eris, a disappointment. Another failure of a son. A wasted opportunity, a hope a father had harbored for nothing. Maybe, if he proves he's stronger than Eris, Beron will change his mind. But, just look at him. Sylas can practically hear the discontentment hissing through Beron's teeth. He could never defeat his older brother. Sylas has never even managed to defeat his own raging magic, and he's got the scars to prove it.

Marcel remembers nothing. Too many years of his life had been spent in the Forest House under Beron's close watch to remember anything that had happened prior. Marcel remembers the torture, the near-silent whispers of incantations Beron had found in the Middle. Magic aimed to steal, to take, to conquer. Marcel remembers the forceful pull of Beron's magic against his own, the agonizing pain of a High Lord's command to surrender the smoke so that he may claim its power for himself. He remembers praying to the Mother, the Cauldron, the Forgotten Gods, to just give it to him and let the pain slip away. He remembers losing faith in all of them. He remembers his mind crumbling thought by thought, scar by scar, until nothing good remained. If it had, he might have remembered being born shortly before the War. He might have remembered Beron hardly being around during his early childhood, and the nightmares the staff's stories about the battles ahead would give him. He might have remembered falling asleep to a gentle, crackling fire, and the small children's book in Eris's hands. His brother's quiet voice reading him stories about the animals living in Autumn's beautiful, golden forests, the very image lulling him to sleep.

Vermilion did not have a happy childhood. He remembers wandering the empty halls of the Forest House, haunted only by the ghost his mother had become. She was always so sad -- so lifeless, the russet of her eyes like decaying Autumn leaves, giving way to a piercing, ruthless winter. He remembers trying to make her laugh, if only so that her eyes might light up and Autumn might last a little bit longer. And he did, sometimes. Those precious seconds are what he holds onto today, when he visits the House for formal events as Beron's perfect emissary, and the look she gives him is no different than that of the ghost's. So no, he didn't have a happy childhood, but all that changed with one equinox -- the one event his mother had been allowed to leave the House to attend. Vermilion, a very young adult now, knew then; she was still in there, buried somewhere too deep for Ver to uncover. A few months later, he sees that russet sparkle again -- but it's no longer held in his mother's eyes. Lucien's birth had changed everything, and Autumn was back in Vermilion's life, putting an end to the years of unforgiving winter. He swore, then, that this russet light, he would never let die out. Lucien would be his to protect, his to love, his to show his mother that being Vanserra has never meant a thing to Vermilion. And so he did -- he took Lucien everywhere, snuck the teenage little rake in to taverns, brothels, and hunts, balls and galas where they'd place bets on which highborn lady would go home with either of them first. And when, one hunt, Lucien took home Jesminda, Vermilion had never seen that spark burn brighter. It is the failure of his life that Vermilion was the one to kill it. He remembers holding Lucien down, the hot tears of his brother staining his jacket, Lucien's still-weak fire burning Vermilion's skin. But he didn't relent. It had to be done. But now, Vermilion wonders -- was the death of that spark worth it if all it left behind is another ghost?

[writing-zelda-brainrots]

Can you, maybe possibly do more winx club/fairy! Reader with the chain drabs- 📍(idk if any anon has this emoji but I want it.. whatever they mean)

Yeah, you can have that emoji. Of the people who have asked to be certain anons, none of them have used that emoji. I haven't come in contact with these emoji anons that much, but from what I can gather, they're used to mark a recurring fan who prefers staying anonymous.

--

“I think I see your problem here.”

Now you were by no means an expert on teaching magic, but when Hyrule came to you asking for advice, how could you possibly say ‘no?’ In a way, you were the best person for him to ask. While all members of the Chain have come into contact with magic - and even used it themselves - it was through magic items or fairies (which you were a little horrified to learn they often caught in bottles). Hyrule was the only one to actually harness magic and cast spells.

The two of you were similar in many ways: both of you learned about your magical heritage much later in life than others like you, there was the fact that both of you could transform (even if, like all other fairies of his world, he was much smaller than you), and the fact that you both felt different from the people you grew up around due to your magic.

“You’re trying to force the magic out, but at the same time you’re stifling it.” You spoke as you came closer, letting Hyrule relax his hand. “That kind of polarising pressure doesn’t allow the magic to flow correctly, which could lead to your spell backfiring on you. Believe me, it’s not good for your ego.”

You laughed a little at a memory of some of your first spells going wrong. You have no idea how, but you somehow messed up a spell that would change the colour of your hair. It was literally the first - and easiest - spell they taught you at Alfea and you managed to turn your hair into a technicolour nightmare.

But it seemed like your impromptu magic lesson had to be put on hold.

"[Name], my grappling hook got stuck in a tree and I can't pull it loose." A whiny voice caught your attention. "Can you fly up and get it?"

You know, sometimes you wondered if it wasn't such a good idea to tell these boys about your powers.

"Can't Wild climb up there and get it for you?" You ask a little annoyed. "I'm a little busy right now."

"But I wanted to show Wild a cool trick with it. If I go asking for his help, it'll be embarrassing."

You couldn’t say ‘no’ to that pleading look. Wind’s expressive face had its funny moments, but his puppy dog eyes were like weaponized guilt. Shooting Hyrule a look that said “sorry,” you received a small “it’s fine” in return. You’ll continue your training later.

You let out a sigh, looking up at the tall tree Wind was pointing at, “alright. But if this happens again, you’re on your own.”

“Deal!”

In just a flash of light you had transformed into your fairy form, wings out and fluttering to lift you off the ground. Following the rope, you found the hook stuck high in the branches, not only caught by the tree, but also by the rope itself. The whole thing was a giant knot looping around itself, one that you found hard to see where it began and ended. “Geez, Wind, how did you even manage this?” You groaned as you began pulling the problem apart.

“I was practicing a trick, but it went south.” The boy shouted from below as both he and Hyrule watched you work.

“Yeah, I can tell.”

After what felt like half an hour, you finally managed to untie the thing. Letting out a sigh of relief, you grabbed the metal hook, looped the long rope over and around your shoulder and flew down onto the ground. “Here.” You handed the grappling hook over to a very enthusiastic looking Wind.

“Thanks!” Wind then immediately turned his head away, rushing off somewhere else. “Hey, Wild! I can show it to you now!”

“Kids, am I right?” You laughed to yourself.

“Yeah.” Hyrule chuckled. “I don’t know where he gets all that energy from.��

“Now, where was I-”

You hadn’t even had the chance to detransform before someone shouted your name again. This time it came from Four’s corner of camp, where he, Wars and Legend were busy at a makeshift forging station. “We need a stronger, more stable fire over here.”

“I was doing just fine.” Wars shot back at the small smith. “You asked for a stronger flame and I gave you one.”

“I said a “fire,” not a “blaze!” You nearly singed my eyebrows off!”

Guess Wars really wasn’t quite as good with his control with the Fire Rod as he thought. Whose brilliant idea was it to use a weapon meant for combat for forging, instead? But then again, who asks an Enchantix fairy, a fully fledged Guardian Fairy, to be a living furnace, as if that’s somehow better? Probably the same kind of person who asks that same fairy to get a rope unstuck from a tree.

And the smithing group had devolved into a petty argument while you weren’t paying attention. Maybe this could be your out, let you finally get back to Hyrule. But if you were a betting girl…

You turned your eyes to Time, Sky and Twilight who were sitting around a small fire, watching a kettle of water start to whistle. “Let me guess, you’ve got a request for me, too?”

The oldest thought for a moment before giving you a cheeky smile. “No, but I’m sure Wolfie would appreciate an eye-in-the-sky helping him during his patrol.”

Yeah, it was definitely a mistake to tell them about your powers.

--

[melancholyfool]

Wits and Wagers

Pairing: Henry Winter x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and the others play a game of wits poker in the country house

a/n: i think the best part about being a (fanfic) writer is being able to make your favourite characters do whatever you want.

The parlour of Francis’ estate was bathed in the warm glow of candlelight, the grand fireplace crackling with slow-burning embers. Shadows flickered across the dark wood-paneled walls, stretching long and elegant over the antique furniture. The scent of brandy and a faint trace of smoke from Francis’ cigarette lingered in the air, mixing with the autumn breeze that drifted in through the open windows.

The seven of you were gathered around an ornate poker table, an old relic that had undoubtedly seen its fair share of mischief. The deck of cards lay neatly shuffled in the center, a haphazard assortment of poker chips, coins, and various personal wagers scattered around it. There was an easy kind of tension in the air, an unspoken understanding that this game was more than just a game—no one ever played just for fun in your group.

You sat beside Henry, your thigh brushing against his beneath the table, a touch so subtle that no one else would notice, but enough to ground you. His presence, steady and deliberate, was always like that—quietly consuming, like an unspoken weight pressing against your ribs. He had one hand on his cards, the other resting lightly on his knee, fingers occasionally grazing yours in the space between you.

“Now, this is what I call a gentleman’s game,” Bunny declared, leaning back in his chair with an exaggerated sigh. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass before taking a triumphant sip. “None of that dreary chess nonsense Henry’s always droning on about.”

Henry, seated rigidly across from him, merely lifted an eyebrow as he shuffled the deck with deliberate ease. “You wouldn’t last five minutes at a chessboard, Bunny.”

“Damn right, I wouldn’t. Too much thinking.” Bunny smirked, tipping his glass in Henry’s direction. “But this? This, I can handle.”

Francis, draped elegantly in his chair with a cigarette held loosely between his fingers, exhaled a thin stream of smoke, watching it curl toward the ceiling. “Poker requires thinking, too, you know.”

“Yes, but it also requires a little thing called luck, which, might I remind you, is in my favor tonight.” Bunny tapped his temple, as if to emphasize his supposed good fortune.

Camilla leaned forward, her golden hair catching the firelight. “We’re playing for something better than money,” she said, idly twirling a poker chip between her fingers.

Bunny groaned, setting his glass down with an exaggerated thud. “Oh, for Christ’s sake, what now?”

Richard smirked. “Knowledge.”

Bunny threw his head back dramatically. “God, what fresh hell is this?”

You laughed, the sound drawing Henry’s eyes to you, his gaze softening just slightly.

“The rules are simple,” Camilla explained, placing her own bet—a pearl hairpin—onto the table. “Before you bet, you answer a question. Literature, philosophy, mythology—take your pick.”

“Ah, so a battle of wits,” Francis murmured, exhaling another breath of smoke. “I like it.”

Bunny grumbled, but reluctantly pushed a few coins into the pot. “Fine, fine. Let’s get this over with.”

Henry dealt the cards, his movements practiced, elegant. You watched his fingers, the way they moved with such quiet precision, and felt the urge to reach out and trace them. Instead, you turned your attention back to the game.

The first round began.

“Alright,” Francis drawled, tapping his cards against the table, “Bunny, since you’re so eager, let’s start with you. Who wrote the Hymn to Aphrodite?”

Bunny squinted, his brow furrowing. “That’s an easy one. Uh… Sappho, right?”

Francis nodded. “Correct. Now, place your bet.”

Bunny slid forward a crumpled twenty-dollar bill, which earned him a scoff from Camilla. “Are we playing for intellectual currency or actual money?” she teased.

“A little of both,” Richard said, tossing in his own bet—a well-worn copy of The Waste Land, edges frayed from use.

The game continued, each question growing more difficult, the bets becoming more personal—Richard’s silver fountain pen, Francis’s first edition of Les Fleurs du mal, Camilla’s delicate lace gloves.

Then, it was Henry’s turn.

You turned to him, eyes glinting with mischief. “Alright,” you said, tilting your head slightly, “your question.”

He met your gaze with that quiet intensity you knew so well. “Go on.”

You smirked. “If you found yourself in the Underworld, which shade would you most like to speak to?”

The others fell into a hush, the fire crackling softly in the background.

Henry was silent for a moment, considering. The candlelight flickered across his sharp features, casting shifting shadows along his cheekbones. He exhaled slowly. “That depends. Do I get to ask them a question?”

“Of course.”

His fingers tapped against the table, thoughtful. “Then I would speak to Orpheus. And I would ask if he ever really thought he could resist looking back.”

A stillness settled over the group. Even Bunny, who had been halfway through another drink, lowered his glass slightly.

Camilla tilted her head, watching Henry curiously. “And what do you think he’d say?”

Henry’s gaze flickered toward you for the briefest moment before he answered. “I think he’d say he knew all along he would turn. That it was never really a question at all.”

You felt a shiver trace its way down your spine.

Francis let out a soft laugh, breaking the silence. “A suitably tragic answer.”

Henry placed his bet—a small, leather-bound book, its title worn away with age. You recognized it instantly—his collection of Catullus poems, the one he carried with him like a talisman, the one he had read to you late at night, his voice soft against your skin. The weight of the gesture settled between you like an unspoken promise.

The game carried on, the hours slipping away into laughter, sharp-witted conversation, and the occasional dramatic outburst from Bunny.

At some point, Henry’s hand found yours beneath the table, his fingers curling around yours in a way that felt effortless, inevitable. You squeezed gently, and though he did not look at you, you felt the smallest press of his thumb against your palm—a silent acknowledgment, a quiet declaration of something unspoken yet entirely understood.

Later, when the others had retired to their wine-laced conversations and Francis had stretched himself out on the chaise with a cigarette and a book of Rimbaud’s poetry, you and Henry remained at the table, the embers of the fire casting a golden glow over his face.

“You knew all along, didn’t you?” you murmured, running your fingers along the worn edge of his book.

He regarded you carefully, his expression unreadable. “Knew what?”

“That you would turn.”

His lips quirked slightly at the corners, though it was not quite a smile. “I suppose I did.”

You traced the leather spine, your voice softer now. “And if I was Eurydice?”

Henry exhaled, his gaze steady. “Then I would have turned the moment I stepped foot in the Underworld.”

[9w1ft]

Funny little „coincidence“: I was recently at victorias secret london and i havent been there for a while so i dont know how recent this is but they used to have the costume taylor wore at the show in 2013 there on a mannequin (havent seen it this time im not sure if its still there because the floor it used to be on was closed) and now they also have some of the wings that have been worn by angels before on display and they had karlies wings from 2014 at the entrance and guess what the tag says.

„Dream girl karlie“

as in: „i could still melt your world, argumentative anti-ethical dream girl“

Bonus: if they still have taylors costume, they are there at the same time, in the same building, out in the open together 🥺

i recently saw a tweet with pictures of taylor’s 2013 british invasion opener outfit in the shop window!

can anyone go investigate if karlie’s 2014 dream girl wings are there at the same time??

[radiocity]

The L Word | S2E01

[pollyannaswag]

personally i think spicytok/dark romance memes poking fun at the ridiculousness of some of it is all good fun but if you seriously take 'issue' with adult women being excited to read smut that appeals to their interests within a community of likeminded people who want to hear about it & share recommendations... you do realize you're just shaming women for having sexuality right

[ty-bayonet-betteridge]

3l!grian is frequently depicted as a tragic figure and sometimes i wonder if we even watched the same series

[unproduciblesmackdown]

has happened plenty around iconis goings on but what an all-timer

[nikikikiko]

do you guys think that with Eugene True Form one of the kids inherited it

and i know its likely to be Lucilla but come sit have some tea and hear my plea

Lucilla and Liberta BOTH inherited it, but Lucilla inherited the more obvious physical traits and Liberta inherited less obvious physical traits

i was thinking abt this and what if it works with Gavus too

same deal: Liberta has more obvious traits, Lucilla has less obvious traits