#written by willow

[kozorus]

SNAGGLETOOTH.

pairing : stiles stilinski x original fem character. setting : season one.

YOU ARE THE LAND I GREW UP IN.

intro 𖦹 next chapter

ONE. STRAY DOG

October, 2002. 

Matilda clings tightly onto her mother’s arm. The frown on her face must be contagious or perhaps she’s being mocked, because Sebastian takes one look at her and pulls his eyebrows downwards and together, lips in a big pout that makes him look a little like a cartoon. Matilda simply looks aside, burying her face on her mother’s expensive blouse. 

“Come on, Mat! You’re gonna have fun today,” her mother tells her. “You did your hair all pretty this morning, too.��

She knows she did. Matilda had pulled her black hair into two high pigtails all on her own, with the brush tugging at the knots and tearing them apart. Still, the confidence she had when they had left the house seems to have vanished as they pulled into the driveway of the big home at the edge of the preserve. She’s used to Sebastian going over to their place, not having to come to his house where all his loud cousins are around; they’re always stuck like glue to each other. 

He lives in the biggest house she has ever seen and, despite having visited countless times, it feels like walking into a museum each and every one. The white walls are covered in vines and ivy and flowers Matilda could not recognize even with a book between her hands; the door is dark wood and at least three times the size of a normal front door. She doesn’t know why they need a door that big.

Most of all, the house feels like home. Matilda likes her house— loves it, even— but she has always known it is not a home the way Sebastian’s house is. It is only a small part of her that aches for the chaos of a filled home. 

Only a small part, because this place doesn’t have her grandmother. 

Sebastian smiles at her, tucking her chin between his fingers for her to look at him. He crouches so he’s at eye level with the eight year old. 

“I have that one board game you like. I’m sure that if we’re smart about it, we can get Tom to play with us,” he says. Matilda can’t help but fight against a smile. She doesn’t want to go inside, so she shouldn’t be smiling. “Plus, Teo’s here! Mat and Mat, you know?”

“Mateo is annoying,” is what Matilda replies. “Can I play as the dragon?”

“Who else if not you?”

She hums like she’s thinking it over. Truth be told, she was sold the moment Sebastian mentioned Thomas, who is her favorite out of the bunch despite being the one she probably sees less. Calian always teases that she has a crush on him, which isn’t true— he looks exactly like Sebastian, and that’s strange. Plus, Calian isn’t smart nor funny: he’s just messy. 

To add insult to injury, Matilda is sure Thomas is old enough to be her father. Or old enough to not have to go to school anymore, at least. 

“If I start a fire, nobody can stop it,” Matilda concludes, stretching her hand so she can cling to Sebastian, letting go of her mother. “Bye, Ma.”

“See you later, darling. Don’t start any fires, okay?” Lilian smiles prettily, planting a kiss on Matilda’s head. She talks to Sebastian, then: “You know their allergies, and Calian does too, in case you forget. I know he’s all in this teenage phase, but he’s responsible when it comes to the girls. Matilda has to take her pills at four and Calian has an inhaler inside his bag. Rosalie should be fine as long as you keep her away from sharp things, even forks. If you need anything, please—”

The boy chuckles. Matilda tugs on his arm, staring into the house. Eileen walks by and waves at her with a big grin. “I’ve got it, Lili. I’ve been babysitting them for years, you know?”

“I know, I know.” She sighs. “I don’t know what I’ll do when you go off to college.”

“You can always get Derek to watch them. He’d probably do it for a free meal and access to your backyard.”

Matilda tugs again, and this time Sebastian gives in. She doesn’t pay attention to the goodbyes, instead pulling her babysitter into the big house. She tells him her dragon will start the biggest fire. He replies that the Hale House is fireproof. 

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January, 2011. 

Paris had been an experience, and if Calian faked an illness just so Matilda and Rosalie could stay a little bit longer and attend the Paris Fashion Week— well, no one had any grievances. Now, they’re back in Beacon Hills and Lydia Martin’s house shakes with the force of the music that keeps her guests entertained. Matilda is still a little out of it, but she knows that some drinks and a dance with her best friends will make everything better. 

She had texted Lydia a few hours before to let her know she’d landed. Lydia had replied with a simple invite to a party and a message to bring her own booze. Since you’ve got such an expensive palate, she’d added. So, Matilda had dropped her things at home and dragged Calian to a liquor store; they got a bottle of Merlot before heading straight to Lydia’s house. 

“This is a nightmare,” her brother tells her as he parks the car: Matilda’s brand new Mercedes. There’s a spot designated for her in the driveway, adorned with a little sign that keeps anybody else from parking. “I can’t believe I’m about to party with high schoolers.”

Matilda laughs loudly. Closing the door behind her, she exclaims over the loud music: “It’s all about being a rockstar, you know?”

“Yeah, sure,” Calian replies. “Shut up.”

She grins at him, determined to ignore the slight pounding behind her eyes. She’s just travelled all the way from Europe to Beacon Hills, so the pain isn’t surprising. It is annoying, though. Matilda has always been big on parties, and Calian says she gets it from him. In reality, she probably gets it from her parents: two big names in Hollywood, sliding from afterparty to afterparty even when Matilda was in the womb. She’s thankful that her mother has never been a drinker— that is something she definitely got from her brother. 

“How’s that going, by the way?” Matilda asks him. 

“Please, let’s not talk about my failed music career for one night.”

She hums, but it’s clear that there’s laughter threatening to escape her throat. Calian wrestles with his leather jacket, taking it off and looking around once they’re inside the house— he doesn’t trust anybody that isn’t himself with it, since it had been a gift from the director of a movie their father starred in. This is Lydia’s house, though. He knows he can leave it hidden in a room somewhere and it’ll stay there.  “There’s a supply closet underneath the stairs. Go hang it in there, I’ll go find my friends.”

Calian looks at her, but ultimately hands her the Merlot they’d bought and disappears into the crowd. Matilda breathes out a sigh, bracing herself to being alone for a couple of minutes. She looks around, the house familiar yet hard to figure out with all the people inside— and outside, too. She remembers sleepovers at Lydia’s when they were younger, dragging Olivia along because her two best friends clashed like yellow and purple. It wasn’t until high school started that they became as close as they are now. Matilda knew it was a matter of time, and she’s glad that she kept pushing for them to become closer during middle school. 

The house has always felt a little lonely, like there were more people supposed to live there than they do. She guesses that’s right, since Lydia’s brother left long ago, and her parents are separated— yet not divorced, which is Lydia’s worst nightmare: they go through periods of being together and apart, months of playing happy family and even longer months of screaming at each other until one of them eventually books it for their family house in San Diego. Usually, it’s her father that does the walk of shame (or, walk of anger, more like). 

Without warning, hands wrap around her waist and a kiss is planted on her cheek. It makes her jump and turn around as much as she can. “God, you scared me.”

Danny Mahealani smiles brightly, hands sneaking away from her waist to grab the bottle between her hands. He starts to walk toward the kitchen. “How was Europe?”

The kitchen is almost deserted: there’s only a girl mixing like four drinks in one and looking way too drunk to stand on her own. Matilda helps her a little bit as she walks into the mouth of the kitchen and the girl stumbles out. From her spot she has a view of the glazed wall in the living room, and she can see her friends arguing right around the ping pong table. Olivia raises her hand as if she were about to hit Jackson, but instead merely throws a wet ball at him. Lydia, leaning against the green table, rolls her eyes as her boyfriend catches the ball and bites out a reply to Olivia’s clear annoyance towards him. 

If she’s being honest, Matilda could not be happier to be back in Beacon Hills. This is home, she thinks. How could this not be home?

“It was great, Dan.” She sighs as if the entire trip had been a dream. “Cal pulled the performance of the century, and my parents let us stay for a bit longer. So, clearly that meant we had to go to Fashion Week. God! You would not believe the Yves Saint Laurent collection.”

Danny chuckles. “You’re such a nerd. Is Calian here? Lydia said you’d bring him.”

“Yeah!” Matilda replies, looking around for her brother. He’s nowhere to be found, despite a pink buzzcut being quite easy to spot on a guy taller than the average twenty-three year old. “I sent him to leave his jacket in the closet underneath the stairs.”

It’s in the looking around, the trying to catch a glimpse of Calian, that she goes wrong. Matilda takes a single step into the hallway and someone crashes into her: the stranger grabs her shoulders. He’s too far gone to not lean into her as she tries to regain balance. Letting out a yelp, she fights to push him away, but he’s stronger than her. Her shoulders start to ache with the force of his grip.

Danny is quick to react, though. He grabs the boy by under his arms and yanks, pressuring him to release his hold on Matilda. She would have paid closer attention to the growl the boy let out or the way he keeps himself standing despite the energy Danny put behind his grip if she wasn’t so shaken. She lets her friend pull her closer and behind him as he harshly pushes at the kid to step away. Matilda can’t recognize him, if she’s being honest— he seems to be really drunk, or really high. Both, maybe. His eyes are glazed over, and he looks like he’ll throw up in any second. 

“McCall,” Danny begins, the threatening edge in his voice not enough to wake up the stranger. “Don’t you dare come close to her again, you hear me? Hey, how much did you drink?” 

“Dan, come on,” Matilda tells him. McCall doesn’t seem to register the words he’s saying, and she honestly would rather have a good time and forget the whole thing than have Danny Mahealani, of all people, starting a fight at one of Lydia’s parties. “Come on, he’s clearly too out of it. It isn’t worth it.”

Still, Danny continues speaking. “Didn’t you drive Allison here? I can’t believe you left her alone, and how did you even manage to get this drunk already?”

Matilda doesn’t know who Allison is, but if there’s a girl that’s been left alone because her boyfriend couldn’t stay sober, she knows they have to find her. There’s safety in numbers, as Danny always tells them when he drags them to college parties (only to be the first one to disappear, but Matilda guesses he tells them that so they don’t wander off to unknown places). 

“Dan, seriously.” She finally grabs her friends’ attention. “Let’s go find this Allison girl, yeah? She shouldn’t be on her own.”

“Okay, alright,” he replies as he shakes himself out of his anger. It doesn’t work well enough. With one last look at McCall, who’s already trying to leave the house again, Dan grabs her shaking hand. He makes a beeline towards their friends. They seem far too engrossed in the game of beer pong they finally managed to arrange to notice them. Olivia whoops as she lands a ball inside one of the red cups in front of the opposite team.

Matilda doesn’t want to say anything. Danny looks too angry to hold a conversation, and Calian is still not back. Seriously, how long does it take to leave a jacket in a closet? She huffs, bringing Danny’s arm around herself and wishing she had taken her brother’s jacket instead. Dumb things to do that Matilda keeps doing: ignore the weather in exchange for a good outfit.

It’s Jackson that notices her, then. He’s gathering the ping pong balls that didn’t make it into any cup. He looks at her, and for a moment it seems like he’s excited for her to be back, but that’s quickly squashed with that obvious facade he puts on for the rest of the crowd. Still, he leans a little closer and speaks past the music but not loud enough that everyone will hear: “You cold, Tillie? One of my sweatshirts is in the closet underneath the stairs, if you want it.”

“Thank you, Jack.” Matilda smiles, giggling when Jackson dumps the balls in one of his opponents arms and calls a roundup. 

They’ve been friends for a long time, her and Jackson. It’s a complicated friendship, because Matilda’s best friend does not get along with him at all— they’re constantly fighting and baring teeth at each other like rabid dogs, but they’re part of the small group Matilda calls her favorite people, so they sort of have to coexist. 

If she were asked to pick between Olivia Lahey and Jackson Whittemore, Tillie would pick the bullet to go through her own chest. It might be her enormous heart or her undying loyalty, but it is something that has her always sacrificing herself for those she loves (sacrifice is a big word, though. It usually means losing in Mario Kart or letting Danny obliterate her in Mortal Kombat).

She turns to Danny. “I’m gonna go get Jackson’s sweatshirt and see if I can find my brother, yeah? You should go look for this Allison girl that asshole left alone.” 

“Mhm,” Danny replies, though only half-heartedly. He runs a hand over his face. “Why is it me that always ends up babysitting you guys? It’s me that’s supposed to be the reckless one.”

“Because you became friends with Jack in middle school, you know we’re just collateral damage.”

Matilda starts to walk away, hands quickly finding cover underneath the sleeves of her black shirt once they leave Danny’s warmth. She walks into the house, but she’s sure she can hear Danny yell out an answer to what she said. Matilda doesn’t manage to understand, because the inside of the place is packed and the music seems ten times louder with it bouncing off the walls and into her ears again. She’s greeted by some people, asked about her trip to Europe and her parents, but she doesn’t really entertain anybody: it’s always like this, with people asking questions she doesn’t want to answer and trying to get close to her because they want to be able to say they’re friends with a Kozorus. 

It’s not that big of a deal and Matilda is certainly not the best Kozorus they could be friends with. If anything, she’d say she’s at the bottom of the list; it’s easier to befriend her mother than to befriend her, these days. 

Quickly, she squirms between couples making out and friends screaming the lyrics to Cascada at each other. The search for her brother is futile because, when she reaches the closet, she finds that Calian’s jacket is not there. Jackson’s lacrosse sweatshirt is, and Matilda truly hopes it has not been worn during practice as she throws it on. It smells alright, if a little dusty, so she guesses that’s a win. 

Deciding to go through the countless things in the closet in hopes of finding at least a hint that Calian was there, Matilda makes a face when her search comes up empty.. Her phone is in her pants back pocket, and she pulls it out to shoot Calian a very annoyed text. WHAT THE HELL, she types. DID U LEAVE ME HERE???

SRY, Calian is quick to reply. RAN INTO SOMEONE AND GOT TALKING. YOU’LL B HAPPY ONCE UR HOME!!!

She doesn’t mention that she has no ride home. Instead, she sends him a row of middle finger emoticons and goes back to her friends. They’re no longer playing beer pong, but rather just talking as Olivia cleans up the mess from their round and takes herself to some nearby couches. It’s only natural that the rest follow. 

“Matilda!” Lydia exclaims, hand delicately wrapped around the only clear glass in the party. Even Olivia and Jackson are drinking from red solo cups, so Matilda isn’t surprised when Lydia hands Danny her drink and scribbles her name in a clean cup. “How was Europe? I have to say, the pictures from Italy were killer.”

Matilda takes the cup from her, not even blinking as Jackson dumps half of whatever is in his glass into hers. She probably won’t drink it, anyway. “It was amazing, Lydia. I have to show you all the shopping I did. Plus, guess who attended Fashion Week?”

“No way,” Olivia chimes in. “Is that why you got here two weeks later? You bitch!”

She smiles, sly and proud of herself. If she’s being honest, fashion is the one thing Matilda is passionate about. There’s not many things that pique her interest, but clothes and design must be at the very top. Her friends know this, and it’s just her luck that she happens to share her love with her best friends. Jackson and Danny, as the boys they are, like to give them useless commentary whenever they go shopping. Still, she appreciates that they even go with barely any complaint in the first place.

“What’s been happening in Beacon Hills?” Matilda asks. “Anything I should know about?”

“Well,” Olivia begins, exchanging a glance with Lydia. “Lydia got her claws into the new girl. Honestly, she’s sorta nice to be around. Of course, I told her about the gorgeous brunette she would never replace, despite her hair being longer than yours.”

“Her name’s Allison Argent,” Lydia explains. Matilda shoots Danny a look, but he’s not paying attention. It means he didn’t even try to find her, probably. “You’ll love her, really. Just as you like them, all naive and innocent.”

Matilda rolls her eyes. It’s a running joke between them that Matilda had been the reason Danny became their token party-goer despite his fairly clean background: Matilda would never say yes to her house being invaded by strangers— mostly because her grandma is always there and Rosalie is too young to be bothered by parties or get-togethers— so Danny took it upon himself to make his house the go-to place. Then, it unfolded naturally: parties almost every weekend until his parents put a stop to it, period and all. 

“Plus,” Jackson adds on. He leans against a pillar that separates the terrace from the backyard. “There’s only been a few dead bodies found in the woods.”

“Excuse me, what?”

“It was one dead body,” Danny corrects him. “He’s dramatic when he’s scared.”

“One dead— sorry, what?” Matilda repeats her question, but no one gives an explanation at all. Instead, Lydia shrugs and takes a swing of her drink and Olivia announces that she’ll go get a refill. Like stress is pressing into her tongue, she suddenly feels the urge to drink something, so she does: Jackson’s mixture of juice and vodka isn’t bad, but it’s too strong for her taste. Matilda frowns. “My brother left me stranded. Anyone wanna take me home later?” 

Danny volunteers, and the mood changes completely once Olivia comes back and— with Lydia’s help—  pushes Jackson into the pool. She uses the maroon sweatshirt she’s wearing as an excuse to avoid his wet and cold arms.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

The smell of coffee wakes Matilda up. She groans and, with her eyes still closed, she tries to find her phone between the covers. The killer headache she carries is only worsened by Rosalie’s sudden scream, and Matilda isn’t quick enough getting out of bed to try and save her little sister. Instead, she loses the battle against her white sheets and falls onto the floor with a loud thump. 

“How did you get in?” Rosalie yells from downstairs. “When did you get in?”

The intruder— if there even is one— must give an answer that Rosalie deems good enough, because she calms down, stops screaming redundancies and lets Matilda take a deep breath on the floor of her bedroom. She wouldn’t say she’s protective, but Matilda has always had an instinct to run towards danger rather than away from it when the people she loves are closer to it. 

Her mother screams from her bedroom. “Everything okay?”

“Yes!” Calian yells back. “Rosalie is just very dumb!”

“I’m literally not!” 

Matilda can almost hear her mother’s sigh, and she imagines her rolling over and pulling the sheets over her head to go back to sleep. She almost does the same but her craving for a good cup of coffee is stronger, so she decides to get up. The fact that she already is on the floor and not on her bed plays a big role when making her decision. She groggily stretches her hands towards the sky and then sits up to wrap them around her ankles. 

The moment she’s done with her morning stretching, she makes her way down stairs halfway through waking up completely and a quarter of the way through getting rid of her headache. Rosalie is chewing on some waffles on the couch, the TV on and running FRIENDS. Calian is talking to someone in the kitchen. It appears to be a normal morning in their household. 

Matilda can’t hear who her brother is talking to well enough to figure out who it is, though. It’s the laughter that does it for her: the same laugh she had grown so used to hearing a few years ago, one that was common and echoed through every corner of the room. Calian Kozorus has always been funny, but no one laughed harder at the things he said than his best friend since he was six years old. 

“You!” She runs into the kitchen, socks making her slide and bang her hip against the island. It only adds to the pain that she’s in that morning, but she ignores it “Derek Hale!” 

Derek smiles softly, giving her a once over. For a second, Matilda feels self-conscious of her sleepwear choices, but then she remembers that Derek has not seen her in six years and she has changed just as much as he has. The look in his eyes is a little sad, as if he’s just realizing that he missed out on important things while he was gone. Matilda feels her eyes fill with tears, and it hurts just a little that he looks like a completely separate person than who she remembers him to be.

“That’s me,” he replies. 

Matilda ignores the tears completely in favor of jumping into Derek’s hold. He wraps his arms around her, holding her tight against his chest. She has to get on her tip-toes for the hug to be comfortable, but she couldn't care less. The pain on her hip fades a little, but she doesn’t open her eyes to watch Derek’s veins turn black; she’s too busy trying to stop the tears from falling once Derek is resting his cheek against her head.

“Hey,” he says, shaking her a little. “Don’t cry, I’m not worth all that.”

“Shut up,” Matilda tells him. She frowns, pulling away and wiping her wet cheeks. “When did you get back? Is it just you?”

“Mateo is with your grandma,” Derek tells her. He grabs the cup of coffee Calian is holding, offering it to Matilda. “They’re taking a walk. We got here a few days ago, it’s their new routine.”

“Oh, I cannot believe him!” She exclaims. Of course her childhood best friend decides to show up in Beacon Hills after six years of radio silence and steal the traditions she has with her grandmother. “He better come say hello to me, or I’ll truly be so mad.”

Calian hums. “You’re only happy to see Derek because you don’t know where he was hanging out last night. I had to beg him to let his little brother sleep in our guest room, and Derek got into an argument with Mummo because he wouldn’t crash on the couch.”

“You fought my grandmother?”

Rosalie snorts as she walks into the kitchen. Her plate is sticky with syrup, but she doesn’t bother rinsing it– the thirteen year old just leaves it on the sink. “You make it sound like he beat her up.”

“Oh, it would not surprise me if he did,” Calian jokes.

Derek makes a noise. “Who do you think I am?”

“Some guy that came back to Beacon Hills from New York just to stalk a teenager,” Matilda’s brother replies. She furrows her eyebrows. “Or something. I don’t even know what you’re doing.”

“I’m dealing with the mess that is a werewolf with no control,” Derek replies.

Rosalie huffs. “Sounds like fun,” she says before leaving the room altogether. The noise of her steps follow her up the stairs. It’s no surprise, she’s always gotten weird around talks of the supernatural. 

“You’ve got an untrained werewolf?” Matilda asks. “Bitten by who?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Calian tells her, giving her a look that can only mean one thing: drop it. “What does matter is that we’ve got a stray dog problem.”

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WORDS : 4450 © KOZORUS

[patchesofthepunkhouse]

Peroxide

╰┈➤ ❝ Spill the blood on the floor, I ain’t scared, think there’s more! ❞

hx/hxm

name; Poprocks Peroxide

id; gay aro trans scene boy

age; teenager

species; human (dog boy, foxkin, demonkin)

alter type; anp

role(s); no specific roles

activity level; seasonally active (fall/winter)

peroxide is a system member who’s basically just Here. no known reason or job, just vibes. hx helps us unwind.

[caniball1sticdes1re]

lovely

pairings . hazel callahan x reader

warnings . hazels clingy and touches readers butt like once and calls reader mamas like once 🙃

a/n . i’m sorry this isnt ethan landry but hazel is all i can think about i love mascs guys i need a girlfriend so bad,,, anyways im working on smut for hazel and sfw/nsfw hcs for connor (dbh) so if either of those r smth u guys are interested in PLS lmk 😁

the room was a calming yellow from hazel’s galaxy projector, the most prominent noises flooding her walls were the quiet whirr of said projector and the almost muted music playing from her tv. probably something by the smiths or salvia palth. hazel’s thumb rubbed soft circles into your hip, her other arm serving as a pillow for her head. you were snuggled into her body, legs intertwined as you stare up at her, tracing her features. her jawline, her nose, her cheekbones, if its on her face you’re touching it as softly as you can. you take advantage of the close proximity, taking a mental note of every freckle, blemish, mark, scar, spot, mole you can. you also take note of every wrinkle she gets when she smiles. you’re so in love.

you can feel how nervous she is, you make her so fucking nervous. your hand moves to the side of her face, cupping it and shimmying closer to her, if that was even possible. her lips part as she watches your face, eyes flickering back and forth between your eyes and lips as she lets out a soft exhale. you lean up and kiss her, propping yourself on your arm and pulling her face as close to yours as you could. it takes her a second to reciprocate the kiss, but when she does, its like kissing her for the first time again. every kiss with Hazel is like its the first over again. her hand grips onto your waist, the cold of her rings cooling down your burning skin. she slid it up your body, placing her hand on the side of your neck as you both fight to push against each other. the kiss was soft, yet passionate.

you attempt to pull away, despite hazel chasing your lips, demonstrating she never wanted the kiss to end. you peck her lips a couple times, finally opening your eyes to hers examining your features, much like you were to her a minute before. she pulls you into the warmth of her body, holding you as close as she could.

“haze, its almost 8p.m, i gotta go baby” you speak up softly, hazel tightening her grip on your lower back in response.

you look up at her pressing a kiss to her jawline. “hazel you gotta let me go, love”

she groans, loosening her hold on you. she kisses you in attempt to persuade you to stay. “i don’t want you to leave mamas” she pouts, and you almost give in. those damn eyes always get you.

“i gotta go lovely” you peck the tip of her nose, sitting up from your comfortable position. “come walk me out please?”

she nods and sits up, watching as you get off her bed to collect your things. she moves to sit at the end of the bed, staring at you put your shoes on. you walk over to her and slot your legs between hers, cupping both cheeks and lifting her head to look at you. her hands find their place, softly gripping the underside of your thighs, just under your ass.

“i love you so much hazel” you smile uncontrollably, watching as hazel’s lips pull into the beautiful smile she has.

she squeezes your thighs, pulling you closer to her as she hides her blush by looking down and hiding her face in your chest. she waits a couple seconds before looking back up at you, squeezing your thighs once again. “i love you so much more honey”

you kiss her again, her tilting her head and smiling on your lips. “lets go lover, my mom’s gonna get mad at me” you spoke once she pulled away, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

you grab her hand, hazel following behind as you both walk to her front door. she opens the door for you, spinning you around in the doorway. she pulls you in for yet another kiss, running her hands down your waist and giving your ass a soft squeeze.

“drive safe okay? can’t risk my girl getting hurt” she whispers while she gives you goodbye kisses along your jawline. you giggle, pulling away and pecking her lips.

you put your hands on her cheeks once more, softly tracing your thumbs up and down. “i’ll be so safe just for you, haze. i love you” you kiss her for the last time, turning around and heading off her porch after hazel gives you an ‘i love you too beautiful’

she watches as you get in your car and drive off, blowing her a kiss from your open driver seat window before you drive down the road.

fuck, she’s so in love with you.

[seiwas]

some of my fave bakugo fics in honour of bakuday 🥺 (most, if not all, of these are in ao3! which is why i'm listing them. other fave fics of mine that can be found on tumblr will be reblogged!)

you can find other bakugo fics i love in my tag: #katsu

i like to call myself wound but i will answer to knife - kirketeer enemies to lovers, requited unrequited love, kind of love triangle

surrender (whenever you're ready) - ofmermaids florist reader, canonverse, slowburn

on my way (to you) - ofmermaids 5+1, canonverse, time travel

and you take me the way i am - willowser assistant reader, slice of life, bakugo is bad at feelings

how to set fires - hawnks strangers to lovers, canonverse, food as love language

organic chemistry - kirketeer codependency and unlearning it, mutual pining, college au ish

here is my hand that will not harm you - natsuonii bodyguard au, mild violence, mentions of scars

in the dark of the morning, you promise me the sun - kirketeer character death (not the main characters), grief/mourning, slow burn

dry spell - willowser established relationship, semi-public sex, miscommunication

for auld lang syne - some-kindofgnome canonverse, near-death, drinking

you feel like home (you're like a dream come true) - willowser light angst, kind of exes to lovers?

i do not know if i should hold you or eat you - katsukiz hurt/comfort, soft sex

love to say this to your face: "i love you only" - willowser dragon king bakugo, arranged marriage, a little drunk

[arcanesarts]

*shaking really fast* i'm making pokemon cards of my ocs here's my first test card with my sona so i could figure out what i'm doing!!!! you have no idea how much work was put into this!!!!! i remade everything for this card myself!!!!

[willowser]

one thousand lonely stars, hiding in the cold—

android!shouto x reader

wc: 2k+

tags: angst, cyberpunk dystopian setting, financial vulnerability, explicit language, minor mention of sex work + sex workers, reader has strong/conflicting feelings about their situation, and — as always — the question of true humanity.

notes: what a great opportunity this was for me to continue exploring this idea !! tysm to @shoto-brainrot for not only giving me the chance, but also for being such a support and helping me to figure out all this commission jazz !! i so appreciate you, and i hope you enjoy it ! 🩷

original post

You’ve yet to find out what caused the damage to Shouto’s faceplate.

By the time you discovered him outside the credit exchange, he had been busted open and left for—whatever the equivalent of dead is for an android. A gaping hole in the left side of his disturbingly human face exposed his inner circuitry to the rain and you think that should have finished him off, truly, but—he's still kicking. 

Technology in the lower district is distinct. The most careful hands could have crafted him down in the best underground salvage yard and he still wouldn't have lasted half an hour with his face submerged in a shallow mud puddle like that. Wiring would have been shot, fuses blown.

Even if the Todoroki Corporation symbol on his wrist wasn't glowing, a blinking light in time with his would-be heart, you'd know what he is. You'd know he didn't belong down here, beneath the smog, in the industrial bones of your dying city.

And yet—

The left side of Shouto's face took the brunt of whatever blow he'd been dealt, and the scarring—if it's even called that?—has extended down over his cheekbone and backward, so violently that his ear had only barely been hanging on. Without the bandage you've wrapped him up in, he's quite a sight: half a tangled mess of wires and pins, a dull cyan light glowing in his orbital socket. With the wrapping, however, he’s almost exactly as he was meant to be: seamless.

The fate of his detached ear had been unknown. Until this morning.

It still works, much to your surprise, learning so only after wondering aloud the whereabouts of your data docket and hearing Shouto answer from across the apartment. Whoever put him together, you realize, took great care to make him durable, adamantine; the carbon nanotubes and polymer arrays that make up his cochlea were hardly affected by the assault.

Someone—or something—meant to harm him, and you know that for certain, now. Such wreckage couldn’t have happened naturally, not to a Skin-Puppet like him.

(When you look at him, you can’t help but consider his creator. How far he is from them and why. If the hands that made him and the hands that ruined him are the same, if he meant to leave or if he was cast out. You haven’t asked, but it’s odd that a machine could keep such information to himself—itself.)

(Given the brutality behind his mutilation, perhaps it’s best you don’t know the answers.)

Working tech from the richer district—KōkyōLuxuria, above the smog, built high into the clouds—could not only earn you enough to eat this week, but also to pay off all your debts to the League. Maybe even finance a decent apartment a few stories up.

And that’s why you’re here: racing through the slums in the rain, doing your damndest to make this sale before time runs out and you’re forced to find another buyer. Coming across a Hack with 1,640,254 credits in their docket is rare; who knows when you’ll find someone from the Trade in Musutafu sector again? You’re likely to sooner perish—either from your empty stomach or that broker that demanded payment two days ago.

Shouto, however, doesn’t see the urgency.

“Hello, handsome! Awful cold out tonight…care to warm me up?”

“Oh, hello.”

At the even, all-too-friendly lilt in his voice, you halt your sprint again, and spin around with a hiss. “Shouto!” You snap—but it comes too late; the Entertainers have struck like lightning, already scrambling his code. 

Out of habit, you’d pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head before leaving the apartment, and now the material separates his image from view—though you can easily imagine the pleasant expression showing on his face, illuminated in pink under the NanotechNymph advertisement.

At his easily captured interest, two women strut from the open doors of the low-lit den, all allure and swaying hips, mirage flickering beneath the heavy rain. They only meet him halfway—too far from the emanator deep within the club—and you dash forward to stop him from wordlessly accepting their offer. You can’t afford to owe anyone any more than you already do.

“Shouto,” you say again, mouth twisting when he looks at you simply. Despite the hood, his bandage grows dark from the rain and—despite his framework, worry fluxes in your stomach at the thought of him getting too wet. “We have to go.”

“Aww,” an Entertainer says to you, girlish pout pulling down her full lips. “You don’t want to come inside and play with us?”

“No,” you try not to look at them any longer, just in case that racks up a charge, too. Rock solid as he is, Shouto allows himself to be steered away, much to your relief. “Buzz off, holo-ham.”

“I’d like to play.” Shouto pipes up, peeking behind his shoulder when the girls squeal in excitement. “Can we come back once we’ve finished?”

“Not for that kind of play.” You put a hand on the back of his head and swivel it, all while shoving him down the sidewalk. You almost remark on how man-like he’s acting, before chasing the thought away.

“What other types of play are there?”

“Just—hush.” 

And he does, finally, when you loop your arm through his: a presumably innocent gesture that draws his attention fully back to you, as physical touch seems to do, with him. Beneath the material of the jacket, he feels natural, all muscle and bone, even leaning into you as if the weather has made him cold. You can feel him tracing your face with his one-eyed gaze—scanning you—and you pretend not to notice.

“Your heart rate has gone up. Have I made you angry?”

“Yes,” you tell him, though he hasn’t, really. “You and your curiosity are gonna make me late, and then we’ll be in some serious shit.”

He looks away then, down to the soaked pavement, a mimicry of disappointment. From the corner of your eye, you can see his manufactured Adam’s apple bob, and the muscle beneath your hand shifts.

“They seemed nice, the holograms.” He says, and you can’t help the soft snort such a comment merits. 

“Yeah, they’re nice, alright, until you can’t pay them.”

Shouto looks at you once again, stride threatening to falter until you tug him along. “Do you know them?”

You already know where he’s going with his question, and the corner of his lips quirk up when you cast him a filthy look. “Well, no, but—”

“Then how do you know—”

“I just do, alright?” You frown at him and he accepts it in full, studying once more. Whatever he finds in your expression amuses enough that he’s placated for the moment, though you know it won’t be long before he’s piping up again.

He does it often—studies you: body language, physiological changes, speech patterns, vocal cues. Human behavior he catalogs and streams to someone back at the Corporation headquarters, finding the miniscule details he can use against you, some day. Whatever the reason behind his damage, he is still a product of his evil overlords, made for reasons you can only imagine. 

This is what you tell yourself. 

As his fingers shift until their smooth pads are brushing the delicate veins in your wrists, as he tightens his arm around yours when another stranger on the streets knocks your shoulder, as he leans into the warmth of your humanness: this is what you tell yourself.

You’re overcome with a sense of loss and you don’t know why, and you clear the strange lump hardening in your throat. “Life lesson number six, Todoroki,” you murmur it closely to him, nearly into the fabric at his shoulder, though he doesn’t react to the name. “Everybody wants something from someone, holo-hams included.”

Shouto seems to process your words, for a moment, and his face is expressionless when you steal a peek up at him. Technicolor rains down on your both, swathing him in a wild array as advertisements dance on the buildings that tower above you, and again you think of his creator. The careful hands that crafted his smooth cheeks, the sharp line of his nose, the leanness of his body. You wonder if he’s ever been deemed precious.

Nearly all of the residents relegated to the lower districts owe the Todoroki Corporation in some way. Be it through credit loans or applied interest rates on subsidized housing or hidden costs and high premiums on mandatory, shit insurance—Enji Todoroki sits in the lap of KōkyōLuxuria, has probably never even stepped down from his pedestal. 

There’s no good reason a product of his could have found its way to you: this is what you tell yourself.

“And you want my ear.” Shouto says, looking back down at you as your shoulders tense. There isn’t a byte of hostility in his voice, but he must understand the sharpness to what he’s saying.

“Yes,” you admit with a nod, and some underlying, rogue streak of guilt has you pressing into him, as if your proximity could make up for your selfishness. “The sensors in your ear are gonna pay for our dinner tonight, handsome.”

His stride falters once more, and despite the time clock ticking in the back of your mind—you let him stop you. Maybe you want him to. Nothing ever goes unnoticed by him and you know that and maybe it’s cruel of you to say such a thing, to offer a comfort you can’t admit to, but Shouto looks down at you in all his ruination and—

Before he can say anything, a fat drop of water hits the tip of his perfectly manufactured nose. It makes him flinch, delayed, and the surprise he wears and the scrunch of his brow seem so—human, there before you. Shouto tilts his face to the dark, smoggy sky, and again that worry bites you, about too much water trickling into his core.

“We’re going to be late,” you repeat, though it’s much weaker than it was earlier. This is one those moments in which he overrides all your defenses, uploads something warm and hopeful and frightening into your chest cavity; you can’t tell if you want to run because you have to, for the sale—or if it’s a result of watching him now, haloed in neon.

He’s not one to ignore you, but he doesn’t respond, instead retracting his arm from your grip in order to push the hood back off his head. Raindrops soak into his bandage and the excess pools, dripping down over the line of his jaw and the column of his throat. So close to him, you can see the goosebumps that break out across his skin.

(You wonder if he’s ever been deemed precious. You wonder if he meant to leave, or if he was cast out. You wonder if he was created for continued corruption—or if someone out there wanted him to experience life, no matter how rusty.)

(You wonder if he feels as human as he looks. If he can blush, or if the soft skin below his ear can bruise.)

A small sound bubbles out of him, like a light laugh of disbelief. 

You found him face down in the rain; you’re not sure why it could cause such a reaction now, but he turns to eye the commercial playing behind him, before watching the path of a man walking by the two of you. Rain collects in his perfect cupid’s bow until he licks it away, and his hair slicks to the side when he pushes it out of his face. 

Shouto turns his attention back to you rather plainly, though the edges of his smile pull up a little higher than they usually do, enough that the apples of his cheeks round. He asks you, “What’s going to be for our dinner?” and the question is oddly worded, but each one is intentional. 

Maybe it’s not the rain that amuses him—and maybe it is. Maybe it really is that simple, that innocent. Maybe it’s the microtremors in your voice and your increased heart rate, all the little details that could never go unnoticed. 

There isn’t a way that this could end well: this is what you tell yourself.

You nod once and turn to face back the way you came, resigned, before looping your arm through his again. You trace the delicate veins on the inside of his wrist, careful not to cover the slow-blinking symbol embedded there, and you decide it doesn’t matter what his creator did or didn’t want. Because he has wants of his own, just like anyone.

“Okay,” you sigh, and when you slosh through the puddles collecting on the sidewalk, Shouto seems happy to follow along, this time. “I can probably sweet talk Toyomitsu into buying us some takoyaki, but you’re gonna have to play it cool.”

“Is this the kind of play you were talking about?”

That lilt has returned to his voice, even and friendly and amused.

“No,” you swat at him to hear his little huff of laughter, “now stop asking about that.”

Of course he doesn’t.

[sleep-nurse]

remember null? well after lore progression and violence he regained his true self now

say hi to narrow (or, nicknamed by hana, anguria which means watermelon in italian)

lore rambling in the tags because i'm not assed to write it here

[willowmosby]

I have over the last 5 months watched all 15 seasons and the immortality special of the original CSI. I have no plans to watch the reboot anytime soon so I thought I would info dump my thoughts, and if love to know how others feel. I will now present a very very long post with breakdown some quick thoughts on the seasons, more thoughts on most of the characters and a few ships.

Tldr: I really enjoyed CSI as a whole and I'm sad to say goodbye to a formula and some characters I've really grown attached to. ( And If there is a good Nick Stokes written into immortality fic please lmk)

Seasons:

I do think the early seasons the most fun/ light hearted, which feels weird to say when it literally opens with Sara investigating Warrick for negligence. I kinda wish I had blogged along or something so I could be more detailed in my response about them.

Like a lot of shows I think it really hit its stride in the middle seasons. If I had to pick a few seasons to watch it be 5-7. It also helps that I had finally gotten used to the lighting.

I think the 9- 11 stretch is too serious, don't get me wrong there were some bangers but overall not great

12-15 they were better and back to a little more fun, and I think the series kept its footing pretty well in its final innings. It was no golden era and I felt really bad that Catherine got demoted but I really enjoyed it. ( Well ok I really wasn' a gig harbor arc fan)

Immortality was a fine special, although I don't really feel like it stuck the landing. Part of that will probably become obvious when I talk about my character and ship takes but I also just felt the case could have been better. It's the freshest in mind, obviously, so I will say I really loved having Catherine and Grissom back and if anything I felt like it gave good closure for them and to a lesser extent Sara.

Characters( kinda in the order of their exit):

The lab rats: Bobby, Mandy, Archie icons every one of them. There is a world where Wendy, Hodges and Henry get their own sections but I feel like they would appreciate being in this group. Never pushed into too much melodrama their characterization, always great at their jobs. I would love to grab drinks with any of them

The cops: Brass will get his own sections but to summarize my feelings on all the others. They did their job and I love that for them. They almost never overstayed their welcome but they also aren't the reason I'm watching this show. The only two I would want to get drinks with are the should have been lesbian Sofia Curtis ( she almost got her own section but then i got lazy) and the best uniform in the business, the man, the myth, my man officer Mitchell.

Warrick Brown: My smooth talking gambling king. He was definitely missed after his death. While I didn't love his characterization in the greda Arc, I usually really enjoyed his dynamic with the team and his drive to the job. His death was the closest I came to stopping my watching. His skills with kids are underrated ( probably cause Nick and Catherine are so good) and I do have a say on top of all his intelligence and skills at the job he is so handsome. I think he might go a little too hard for me to enjoy getting drinks with him but I would still do it.

Gill Grissom: My second favorite Dr. Bug ( sorry no one can beat Jack Hodgins) he really is the smartest person on the show. You can always feel his passion for science which is lovely. While sometimes out of touch or oblivious he is usually incredibly kind. I liked his tie to the deaf community. You can pull the fact that he is Demi from my cold dead hands. In a lot of the ways he was the heart of the show and it definitely shows when he left. His relationships with Catherine, Warick, Nick and of course Sara were well developed. I would kill to get a drink with him just to listen to him talk science.

Riley Adams: she gets a section as it is rude for me to not mention a character who was in the credits but she's fucking white bread milk toast. Would not bother getting drinks.

Raymond Langston: I love his relationship with Robbins and I think he's incredibly smart. But I just think the show gave him way way too much too quickly. I mean just compare it to the fucking effort Greg put in to reach CSI or that as new CSI 3 there was a long stretch where Nick didn't get his own cases. I appreciated his complex background but he brought with him the Haskell arc which was just too fucking long and serious. I would get a singular glass of wine with him.

Catherine Willows: What a girl boss. And I mean that is all the best and worst ways. I really love her at her best but man some of her lows are just.. no fun. She is absolutely vital to the show's success and 9/10 times she is out there taking no prisoners and careing for her team. Just you know wish she hadn't shown her daughter a dead body or faked a crime scene with a new guy to name some examples. She could drink me under the table no doubt.

Jim Brass: While never my favorite character I always appreciate seeing him on my screen. Competent enough to hang with the scientist and still be a good cop. I appreciated how dedicated he was to his daughter but Just not personally my vibes. I would get a drink with him but uhh maybe make it non alcoholic cause it's unclear if he needs sobriety help.

Julie Finlay: She's sweet and very very good at her job. If she had come earlier on she might be one of my favorites just my top 3 was already filled. She brings a good balance back to the team, and she has a weird level of breaking and respecting the rules that I enjoyed. She very quickly had such a good dynamic with all the returning favs that there are moments I forgot she was so new. She's got big Bi & Poly energy. I know the actress wasn't coming back but I would've paid to see her interact with Grissom. Sad that she died off screen but also kinda glad they didn't end 15 with her completely dead. I would absolutely get drinks with her, probably mimosas despite my dislike for them.

Morgan Brody: eh shes fine. I feel like despite everything she still comes off as naive. I love her relationship with Eklie and Hodges but overall she left something to be desired. Nothing that I super disliked but I do kinda wish some of her screen time went to Sara or someone else.

D.B Russell: he was honestly a breath of fresh air, well until he wasn't. I think I just love Ted Dansion for one but also I felt like Russell was a beautiful balance between caring and professional. It was nice to have a supervisor who was actually kinda good at politics. I love that he actually cares for his kids and loves his wife ( although I was informed by my mother that he is divorced in Cyber). I do kinda wish the kept the bit where he laid on the ground as a body but mostly cause I found it way funnier than it is. I really hated the gig harbor killer arc and I felt like a large reason is it made him too serious. I would get a drink with him, but honestly I'd love to have a full meal with his family

Super Dave: what a lovable but weird dude. Genuinely a great example of how you can blend strange comments with kindness and consistency to create a great character. I would love to grab a drink with him.

Doc Robbins: What an honest man and in the running for the best M.E ( up there with Ducky and Cam). I'm glad he mostly stayed out of the drama and appreciated that he was always thorough, even when people were occasionally questioning his own work. Not kind to a fault but definitely empathetic. I would 100% grab a drink with him.

Now to the top 3, the best of the best, the ones who were in for the long haul.

Nick Stokes: Whether it's the sweet Texas accent and big bown eyes or the fact that he's the longest running main cast member I do think he is my favorite. Empathetic and kind, almost to a fault, he is also a man's man who can hold his own against the worst criminals. The show put him through the absolute fucking ringer but he still leaves with a smile on his face. Even when he clashes with other characters I feel like he resolves the problems better than other people. He definitely could have benefited from good therapy but I still love him anyway. His skills with kids are so nice and grounded in his backstory. Loved that he became the new big guy. Occasionally they try and paint him as a bit of a player but given he sleeps with like 2 women over 15 seasons it doesn't super add up. This is definitely the queer in me talking but he gives huge repressed Gay energy. Like a lot of his early arc is about graining confidence in himself. Not to mention,his relationship with Warrick and Greg are so filled with undertones and honestly let that man get fucked and some of his problems might go away. Anyway. So I guess more power to the actor for not coming back for even a cameo but I really really felt the lack of him in immortality. So If anyone knows a fanfic where he's there lmk I would read that shit in a heartbeat. Would get drinks with him, would die for him.

Greg Sanders: I love rave going lab rat Greg. I love the new CSI trying to prove himself to Greg. I love mob history author Greg. I mean he's got to be one of the most intelligent characters on the show- he's good at science and history- and it never makes him come off as rude or entitled. I think his shift from lab rat to CSI, whether intentional or accidental, is well built. He is criminally oh I mean so so so criminally underutilized in immortality. I dislike when he's angry and there are certainly episodes where he feels off but overall he's just so lovable. Disgusting hair choices but hey at least that was a consistent trait. His relationship with Nick and Sara throughout the whole show are really great and after 15 seasons they really do feel like they've been a team for 15 years. He gives Huge Bi energy so I would take him to a gay club for drinks and dancing.

Sara Sidle: You can call her a problematic fav all you want but she's a bad bitch and everyone should love her. She is so great at her job and she never lacks humanity. The show kinda lost track of her exact backstory at some point but I don't care too too much as she stays strong willed and passionate the whole show. Her will to never quit and iconic smirks will stay winning forever. I have thoughts on her relationship with Grissom but bottom line she knew what she wanted and got it. Her friendship with all the main cast, particularly Greg and Nick, is really lovely and shows how she has grown and changed over 15 seasons. Because I actually care about continuity I would not get an actual alcoholic drink with her but non alcoholic drinks aplenty would be had if I could meet her.

Ships:

Listen I don't have a real finger on the pulse of what ships are popular as this show finished airing 10 years ago and I was trying to not be super spoiled.

That being said

GSR: I'm not super into Grissom/ Sara ( side note I know the Internet was a different place 20 years ago but who picked GSR as their ship tag), but I'm also not against it. I think they have a big "match my freak" energy which is nice but. I don't know I just feel like by the end of it Sara could do better. Like she gave up the lab director for the guy who asked her for a divorce. I still think it's better than some other options just you know not like my otp. 8/10

Catherine/ Warrick: I think that the flirting was all fun and games and then if became too much. Let's be honest neither of them are built for committed relationships. Probably would have been better then whatever the fuck was happening with Warrick and Tina. 5/10

Catherine/ Vartann: its canonical and like they were fine I didn't hate it didn't love it. Probably better for Catherine in the long term than any other of her potential ships 6/10

Nick/ Greg: idk if this is super popular but it's my otp for the show. They seem like they bring out the best in each other. Nicks more clean cut natural could balance out the more chaotic ature of greg. Obviously with the era the show was made in I don't think that there tension was intentional but it's still there. From the name that chemical compound game to working together until the end of really think they would be great. 11/10

Nick/ Warrick: I had to mention for the just two dudes who have homoerotic tension energy but ehh Warrick dose really read straight to me in every other context. 3/10

Wendy/ Hodges: ehh they give straight white couple who should have just talked about their feelings. 4/10

Hodges/ Henry: is this a real ship? idk man, But it's an friends to enemies to lovers I would love to read. 6/10

Morgan/ Greg: ok part of this is the my ship bias( see above) but I did not like them together. Their flirting is not good, his anger at her kidnapping too extreme, idk I Just really feels like they operate in different levels. 0/10

Morgan/ Hodges: I actually thought this was really sweet and was super said they went with the parents dating thing. I think they understood each other on a really fun level and that they brought out the best in each other. I loved how supportive they were of each other even in seemingly poor decisions. 8/10

Finn/ D.B: I would assume that this is the popular het ship for the them but uhh D.B is so happily married and Finn ( much like Warrick and Catherine) doesn't really give monogamous relationship. 0/10

Finn/ Sara: 100% queer women projection but uhh just imagine post divorce Sara figuring out her identity with Finn and they try friends with benefits but then need more. 6/10

If you made it this far thanks so much for reading and id love to hear others thoughts as I do a deep dive into this show. I Will be reading plenty of fanfiction and may start CSI: NY to appease the new hole in my heart.

[pearlofthewoods]

The purplish, blueish, lilac colour that lights Buffy the Vampire Slayer throughout the whole series might explain why BTVS felt so Bi as a show to me in a way that I could never quite explain.

This colour. If you know you know. It’s like everything was lit by weak moonlight, or the slayer and vampires existed in the perpetual twilight.

For real what is it with vampire media, and light purple/bluish tints? Between this and the twilight saga… I dunno maybe it’s just me, or maybe vampire media is just inherently queer.

Obvs bisexuals don’t own the colour purple, but as the intersecting/between shade in the bi flag and how this lighting signals twilight (the time/world between day and night) I think it’s a pretty rad parallel.

[theprinceandthewitch]

Don't mind me everyone, I am just sitting over here experiencing Totally Normal feelings about the Caleb/Evelyn subtext in Hunting Palismen.

I am not screaming, crying, shaking, and/or throwing up over how Hunters first act of betrayal against Philip was cherishing the bond he has with Luz. This bond is represented by Flapjack, the physical representation of Caleb and Evelyn's love.

I do not watch this episode, with my mouth agape, every time I see Hunter return home to his abusive "uncle" knowing full well physical punishment will most likely be dealt to him. He knows that his "uncle" might add another scar to his face, but he still chooses to return home empty-handed rather than turn against Luz. I react in a manner that can undoubtedly be perceived as normal every time I see Hunter choose to keep Flapjack, even though handing Flapjack over to his abusive "uncle" would spare him further punishment.

I am also casual about Hunter's reaction to Luz's words and disappointed gaze:

Luz: So you're really gonna do this? You're just gonna hand all these innocent little guys over to Belos? I know what he does with them. I thought you might've been a good guy. But I guess that was just wishful thinking. You're not my friend. You're just the Golden Guard.

Hunter: My name is Hunter.

Luz: [gasps]

I am not taking note of how he cares about her opinion of him. I am also not taking note of how she is the only character who actually listens to him AND how she's the only character he tries to impress.

I have not been taking note of how Luz and Hunter treat each other vs other characters AT ALL every time I rewatch this fanfic paced cartoon...

[gutsofgold]

The sound of the Willows

a poem kinda

The sound of wind dancing through willows is such a beautiful sound, I think.

The sound of the spring creeping back in, waking the world up after winter.

The sound of the river rat swishing and swashing, bobbing along in his little blue boat,

The sound of the mole, digging himself up for the first time,

The sound of the otter pup squealing and playing, while her mother tries to keep up,

The sound of the squirrels, clutching eachother’s tails to stay together,

The sound of a life of domesticity is a kind sound, I think.

The sound of summer returning to warm us up is a nice sound, I think.

The sound of the swallows soaring through the sky, returning after their trip,

The sound of the toad experimenting the next high-octane craze,

The sound of the rabbits hurrying to keep up with his frivolity,

The sound of the family of hedgehogs, braving the main road,

The sound of the horse clopping about her day,

The sound of a brand new motorcar disturbing the peace,

The sound of a life of jubilation is a jolly one, I think.

The sound of autumn making itself known is a cosy one, I think.

The sound of the badger on his mission of life,

The sound of the weasels cackling from deep in the wild woods,

The sound of the fieldmice practicing their song so eagerly,

The sound of the stoats baring their teeth and claws,

The sound of the foxes, under the impression they're the picture of the upper-classes,

The sound of a life of mischief is a unique one, I think.

The sound of winter painting the windows with frost is a graceful one, I think.

The sound of the world falling asleep as the snow falls,

The sound of the wild ones living it up where the mighty had fallen,

The sound of the wassailers, spreading love as far as they can,

The sound of the blue tit, having been brought good cheer for the year,

The sound of a great escape, brought about by the toad!

The sound of the rat and the mole, finally taking time for gentleness,

The sound of family being found in the most unusual places,

The sound of a life of trust, is a very nice one indeed.

The sound of wind dancing through willows is such a beautiful sound, I think.

[kozorus]

SNAGGLETOOTH.

pairing : stiles stilinski x original fem character. setting : season one.

chapter one.

INTRODUCTION.

CHORUS: Do you believe he will save you? I believe he will kill me. 

Plant Dragon’s Teeth and you will soon grow an army: violent, ruthless, greedy. Soldiers with death clinging to their hands, foreigner's blood dripping like a faucet, for they are to slay everything they come across. 

Matilda Kozorus wonders which tooth she sprouted from: the molar, or the fang?

CHORUS: Do you believe he will kill you? I believe he will do much worse. 

Her mother would say that she would grow kinder as she grows. Her grandmother would yawn and reply that she will grow kinder when she stops being lonely. 

If one is to ask her, she is done being kind. Plant Dragon’s Teeth and you will soon grow an army; Matilda will sow them in her guts. Perhaps then she will stop being horrified, as she will have turned that army into a girl — she will have turned the viciousness into herself. 

CHORUS: Do you believe he will do much worse? I believe I will let him. 

Somebody is to defend the house, and somebody is to defend the land. Tales as old as time speak of mountains that glimmer though no ores are to be found — it is a Kozorus’ fate to turn dirt into gold. 

Matilda would have let it all rot, were the house not so human-like: Stiles Stilinski is the land Matilda Kozorus grew up in, and she will become both molar and fang to keep harm away from him. 

[patchesofthepunkhouse]

Wavealina

╰┈➤ ❝ the white windy waves washed in, but i stayed dry. ❞

she/her

name/alias; Wavealina / Alina

id; lunarian sapphic

age; ancient

species; water elemental

alter type; imaginary friend introject(?)

role(s); protector, soother, sea architect

innerworld; lives in the water, mostly the sea but sometimes travels inland.

activity level; internally active

which came first, the alter or the imaginary friend? who knows, but alina has been here for the system since early childhood. not much is known about her because there aren’t many alters in her domain.

[lavendertrash39]

So.. huntlow childhood friends au :]

It all starts with the mountain trial. All the scouts get left at the top of a mountain and they see who can make it down alive, and the fastest. 

Hunter is 9 years old when he attempts it. He ends up being one of the fastest scouts there. 

When he starts to reach the bottom of the mountain, he hears a girl cry out. He looks behind him and sees that he's far enough ahead, and goes to investigate the sound. He ends up finding a girl around his age standing by a stream, holding a bunch of mushrooms in her hands. 

She introduces herself as Willow. She's sweet, bubbly, and loves foraging, just like him! She seems equally excited when he shares that he has the same interest. He ends up showing her how to find a specific mushroom and gives her a bandaid for a scratch she'd gotten when tripping.

They unfortunately have to part ways soon after meeting each other, but neither of them forget their brief interaction. After all, they’d never met anyone else who enjoys foraging like they do.

[allthefakepeople]

writing fanfiction and then re-reading it later is just swinging wildly between the two moods of

I wrote this? (affectionate) to I wrote this? (derogatory)

[knight-princess]

And Graydon on the Shattered Sea is like hello weird mudmander creature if you don’t eat me we will be friends for life and I will feed you and name you after one of my characters and care for you and I will set you free even at the risk of the rest of us wandering the mudflats till we go insane and die because I can see you wasting away and it makes me sad. because you can’t tell me that Graydon looks at this wild creature chained to a sleigh for the gain of others and doesn’t find that the reflection is a painful thing. And the longer they travel the starker the comparison. He, who was hurt and in pain and his father used him, tapped his guilt and used him for his own gain and cared not a thing for his safety or health, as he sent him across vast distances on a journey he didn’t choose. And while the journey has in fact been good for him and he’s grown and has friends and love and support now and is really coming into his own, flowering and extending that energy outward, he remembers how it felt to be trapped and used. And he watches Kenneth fade, become more and more a shadow each day, and recalls the numb listless depression that once dogged his own steps, and he can’t bare it. Quite aside from the fact I believe that the Shattered Sea is a trial you have to walk on your own two feet, releasing Kenneth is an important step in his character arc, the final sundering of his fathers chains. Initiative, determination, compassion, the things that define him, that he has awoken and built across the quest. He had to set him free; he has to set himself free