#HOWLS i really can't say enough how happy i was to write this one

[fellpyrean]

Advent Statement 2 - Storm Chaser

Two things before this one: 1) I love it to bits. It’s very, very personal in how I grew up and viewed tornadic storms and absolutely pulls a lot from my youth. I think I talk the most in the notes on this one, because! 2) this one is still on ao3! Check it out, if you would! 

But if you’d prefer to read here, then let’s begin our second statement: Storm Chaser. cws: just canon-typical Vast, honestly. 

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Have you ever seen a thunderstorm? 

I don't mean the little ones; the ones where you'll see a single flash of lightning if you're lucky, and the thunder may as well be a small dog growling for how loud it is. 

Not those ones. 

The real ones. 

The ones where the clouds blot out the sun and are lit entirely from within - enormous, pitch dark and heavy, glowing with purple-white snaps of light, with brilliant, blinding forests of lightning sprouting, branching across the dome of the sky and the thunder comes loud enough to rattle your teeth, rumbling like a leviathan. 

Those are the thunderstorms I mean. 

The ones that span for miles and miles. As far as you can see, the sky's forest shattering and cracking above you and shaking the world in its wake. Nothing else will make you feel smaller. More aware of your own insignificance as clouds larger than cities roil above you and lightning dances from one end of the horizon to the next. 

I don't think there's anything more beautiful. More awe-inspiring. 

I saw quite a few of them growing up, you see. We moved to the Midwest when I was very young, to a house in a neighborhood a quick exit away from the highway. I can tell you it ran to the northeast; we joked they simply paved over the path a tornado left in its wake, because every summer, the storms followed it. I would come home on the school bus to heavy gray skies - swollen with rain and growling -, head inside and turn on, as I called it, "The Weather Show." This was not an actual show, I should explain. It's simply that, when storms become severe enough, when the winds begin to swirl and twist and the clouds rise in massive, looming banks, every channel becomes the weather. 

I would watch, then. Sitting on the couch, boneless as any post-school teen in an oversized hoodie, I would watch the swirling colors of the radar, a sea of lightning icons flashing to represent every lightning strike. I would watch the greens and yellows on the map bloom into orange, into red and I would smile. On some days, the red would go black. Even electric pink. I would watch for lightning out the windows, listen for the thunder growing closer, snapping at the heels of the strikes. And then… I went outside. Just on the porch. There was a single little square of concrete outside the front door, and I would stand beside the bucket of petunias and gaze upwards. I liked best when the rain had yet to fall. I could still see the clouds, then. 

I liked to watch the coming fronts. See how they moved and turned and roiled and drink in every single shift. I would stand and stare and feel the wind go cool and warm and whip about me, twisting and tugging and sending leaves rustling, swaying, flying on its fingers.

Lightning struck, thunder rolled. And as the clouds began to dance, I would hear it. The tornado sirens began to sing and the storm reveled. And so did I.   

I was never that concerned for my safety. My parents didn't like it, but they'd usually be at work and in no position to enforce me going inside. They thought it was dangerous. I thought that there was nowhere safer to be than right where I could watch it; it’s not like we had a basement or anything, so even if I did have to take shelter, it would have just been in the downstairs bathroom. And if it had been a truly big storm, then, well. You may as well hide in a cardboard box for all the good a house will do you. There’s little difference to the wind. 

I would only head inside if it began to rain. That made it dangerous. They call them "rain-wrapped," you see. When tornadoes are hidden in a curtain of thick rain. 

When you can't - won't - see them coming.

Radar can tell you a lot about a storm, but it can't tell you when a funnel has landed. It can show rotation, capture the churn as an adorable, laughable little swirl on a radar map, but you need real, human eyes out there to confirm if it’s just a cute little swirl on a map or a behemoth. Freshly landed and ravenous. 

I never truly saw one in my childhood. 

I saw pictures. I saw what they could do. Rest assured - I loved the storms. But I had seen exactly what kind of damage they could leave in their wake and exactly how insignificant I would be in the face of a one brandishing its strength. They can wind sheet metal around trees like ribbons. Isn't that something? That something so intangible as the wind, when truly roused, can simply… wipe the earth clean. 

There was a mall, or a warehouse maybe. I can't remember exactly and I only saw the foundations left afterwards. A single, barren block of concrete stretching across empty, flat land. No trees. Not even a pipe left poking out. Nothing. Just barren concrete and scrubby grasses. They said the tornado that ate it was more than a mile wide.

How hungry it must have been. 

I thought of those ribbons of metal every time I stood sentry, and thrilled and shivered at the idea. 

There was only one time I ever felt truly afraid. It was not raining, so I got to watch. As the sirens screamed, I knew it would be different this time. Because the sky had gone black. 

No gentle gray. Not even a dark, moody slate. The clouds above had gone black and sickly green and I could see them begin to turn. Coiling in on themselves, twisting and gathering and descending. I still watched. It was like… like I was transfixed. Like I could feel It before I saw It. 

Rain began to fall in heavy, spattering drops, hand in hand with hail that crunched and bounced off the ground. My little square of concrete remained dry, but by all means I should have gone inside by then. The storm was furious, its teeth bared and flashing all across the green-black sky. The thunder came so loud, so close, that it set off car alarms.  

And in the clouds… don't laugh, alright? Because that day, in those descending clouds, I saw something. 

A hand. 

Massive. As black as the clouds it swirled and toyed with, with lightning sparking across its fingers. 

I could see it twirling the clouds like… Like I might have done water in a bucket. But where I could manage only a little whirlpool, there and gone in an instant, this… this being. It spun the storm into a funnel that came and came until it brushed the tree tops. The branches, the shingles reached up to meet it, pulled and snapped and whisked away - and then it simply stopped. 

The hand withdrew, and the funnel petered out. 

I suppose it got bored with its bucket that day. 

I had no idea what I had seen, but as I leaned back against the front door, the breath pulled from my lungs as the storm lumbered on, I never looked away from the clouds. Not until the storm front passed. I did not see that hand again. 

It changed things. 

The terror that had lanced through me. The sheer awe of something so… so vast. A being that held the skies in its palms and molded clouds like clay. 

I still watched the storms. But… I did not only watch the clouds, the brilliant lightning anymore. I searched. As terrified as I had been, I wanted to see that being again. 

So, I became a storm chaser. 

It seemed the best thing to do, really, although my mother really, really disagreed. It wasn't… it wasn't exactly a job? I mean. I had one. But storm chasing was my passion. It was only a few months a year and it most definitely did not pay the bills, but I did get paid sometimes. Honestly, I was just in it for the chase. The fear, the wonder. I took a lot of pictures. I helped call in information for the Weather Show. I probably helped save lives by letting people know when they needed to stop watching the clouds and the radar and get down, even when I was out there right in the thick of it. I learned quite a lot about tornadogenesis and definitely became one of Those People at a party, but instead of my dog or my hypothetical children, it'd be mesocyclones and subvortices - which nobody ever liked to learn much about. "Multiple Vortex Tornadoes" also weren't popular, which was a real shame. 

It's probably a good thing I didn't go to a lot of parties. 

I had friends of course. Other storm chasers, mostly, but I never chased with anyone else. Stopped and rested, choked down greasy dive burgers galore and refueled at gas stations visited by just as many guys on horses as us in our ratty but dependable chasing cars, but I never, never rode along with anyone. 

After all… I never told anyone about what I saw that day. It seemed like a good way to get a ticket to the shrink, honestly. Didn't really want to tell my mom or the other chasers I was chasing some storm-spinning giant when everyone was already worried enough about perfectly mundane lightning strikes and hail and goddamn deer in the road. 

And, I admit, if I saw it again, I wanted it to just be me there. Just me and the storm. 

But after I'd had a go at chasing for a season or two, I noticed something… odd? Crazy, maybe.

I could smell when it would be a good storm. Others bemoaned my luck when I followed the scent to some truly incredible, terrifying shots of a real monster of a storm, and when it happened more? I certainly knew my meteorology, but there was only so far it and dumb luck carried me and I was well aware of it. At some point, I'd get this. This urge. An instinct, I think. And I would roll down the car window, breathe in the air, and I'd follow where the sharp scent of lightning and vapor and twisting currents lead me. 

Once I tuned into it, like, really nailed it down, it never led me wrong. I had some close scrapes - mostly at night, when the storm can bear down on you astonishingly silently for something described most often as sounding like an oncoming train, which is dreadfully accurate - but I always came out alive and uninjured and my car mostly intact until I got better at sniffing out the storm and could drive myself down the best roads at just the right time. 

It became… bliss. Knowing in the air when a storm would come, smelling the potential of it as I rushed out to my car and sped off down the back roads, well before the sirens began to wail. To chase the storms and revel in their song. 

That's how I met him, actually. 

Mr. Fairchild. Excuse me, Simon Fairchild. 

I'd been watching the sky that day, and I knew that it would do something good. The storm hadn't quite formed yet, but the air was right and static jittered down my spine as I ambled through the shack of the nearest convenience store/gas station and got my drinks, snacks, and a spare gas tank ready with what I hoped was passably calm. I don't think I quite got it right because the cashier seemed a little… unnerved? When I came to the register, but, well. I could definitely feel the pull building and it got hard sometimes to not, as my friends would say, "be a little intense about it." 

I was almost vibrating in my skin when I got back into my car and had to take a moment to focus around the scent thick on the wind. 

It was different. I hadn't smelled something like this before. It was like… all the scents of all the storms, of all the skies I'd ever known and more, and a tang of something like salt all rolled together and compressed. Maybe… maybe expanded? It was all encompassing, and kind of confusing, like trying to comprehend something that enormous and complex was pointless, but it made my blood race with anticipation. 

I drove down the back ways with my windows open, eyes fixed on the clouds as I watched the front begin to build. It was a heavy one. The wall cloud climbed right on up to the vaults of the heavens, lightning crowning its distant peaks like a snow-capped mountain. I reached a good spot - somewhere I knew wouldn't be right in its path, but close enough I could see its every twist, and pulled off the road. 

On either side of the road sat empty fields of bored cows and exactly the one tree they gathered under, and between them and me, a grassy ditch to keep the roads from flooding and barbed wire fences to keep the cows contained.

There was nobody else around - not even a farm house that wasn't a mile or more away in the distance - so you can imagine my surprise when I got out of my car and there was a man there. 

He had not been there when I pulled over. My eyes are too sharp and the scenery aside from the sky was nothing to write home about, so I definitely had not just not noticed him. 

No exaggeration, he looked about 200 years old and like a stiff breeze would turn him to dust. And this pink little man took one deeply amused look at me, standing gawping at him and laughed. 

“How ambitious,” he said, half-wheezing at some… joke I was evidently the punchline of. 

I decided I did not like him. 

I think he knew and just didn’t care. His eyes were sparkling as he practically skipped over to me, cane completely forgotten, and reached up to pat my cheek. 

“What would you even do,” he chuckled, “if you managed to catch it?”  

This did not make sense at the time. But I was… Hah, I guess I was fortunate enough that he didn’t leave me hanging. 

His hands were surprisingly strong when they tightened around my arms and turned me around. And I saw that the storm… had turned. It made no sense. The winds weren’t moving this way at all before. But now they were. Blowing headlong into my face, the storm billowing and growing unnaturally fast as it practically galloped towards us across the plains. 

And then… then I saw It again. 

That massive hand, dipping through the clouds and stirring them with a lazy flick of the wrist. Again and again. 

My heart beat rabbit-quick in my chest. 

I should have shaken him off. Should have jumped right back into my car. The door was still open and it was right there. My every sane instinct was screaming at me to go, to run. 

But the scent on the air… it pulled me too strongly. That unimaginably deep scent, layered and layered with every wind in the sky. It came from that… being. It clung, I realized, to the little man chuckling beside me. Like he’d been saturated in it. And wreathed in it as I was, watching the dust stir and dance on the ground beneath that hand, watching the clouds swirl and funnel. I knew there was no time to run anymore. Those fingers dragged through the dirt, the clouds landed, and it began to charge. 

It was… enormous. 

 And yet I couldn’t quite muster the fear. It was there, but like… like there was a layer of plastic between it and myself? I wanted to run, but it was a genuine battle whether it’d be away - to throw myself into the shelter of the ditch and pray - or towards it. Like it was something I could chase down and bite? 

I had hunted for this thing for years. 

There was no way I would run from it. 

And oh how much Simon laughed as I realized I was grinning, ear to ear. A bright, feral thing as the tornado ripped apart the field across the road, as the winds whipped so fiercely about us it hurt - carrying dust and grass like bullets and knives it was all too excited to wield. 

The last thing I remember for sure is watching that barbed wire fence being uprooted, peeled apart like a spool of yarn and he… Simon. He let go of my arms, then. I think he spread out his own, and stepped forward into that blackened, swirling wall of destruction that blotted out everything else - and then… I suppose everything went black. 

I wasn’t unconscious exactly. I know I was ripped off the ground. I know I felt the wind toss me like a leaf. 

I know I saw that hand inside the funnel. Saw enough to trace it upwards as I spun in that dizzying whorl - up and up, the rest of an arm enormous beyond comprehension. 

I saw up into the center of the funnel and beyond. Into an expanse of impossible, pure, sky-spotted black that was… was its body, I think. If something like that even has a body? It was a view that shouldn’t have existed, either way. I’m not entirely sure if it was a hallucination caused by… well, by being thrown around inside an absolutely massive tornado, which is not exactly the most hospitable place for the human body. It feels like it was real though. 

I think I even managed to touch It. I may not fully remember what happened in there, as I was left at the mercy of the storm, but I can… remember with weird clarity the challenge that odd little man had thrown at me. 

What would you even do if you caught it? 

I had no idea, but it didn’t matter. Before I blacked out for real, I saw that hand lift up past me, and I reached out. If I close my eyes, I can see it. So dark, like an expanse of black-blue velvet. And my right hand, so small, framed against it, reaching and reaching, determined to catch. I had to. 

Ah. Unfortunately, that’s all I remember. 

The next thing I recall, I woke up in a field. I was… a mess. But I was whole and alive, which was more than I could say for my car. I never found it. That was not surprising. Not when I managed to sort myself out and stumble my way to a hotel.  

That was when I actually learned Simon’s name. Why? 

Because tucked into my wallet was a credit card, with the name Simon Fairchild emblazoned on it. And a note. 

There’s so many more storms out there to see, it said in a neat, loopy script. Why restrict yourself to just one sky? 

It listed an address in Florida and a date and I knew without hesitation whose it was. Could practically hear his gleeful little accent. 

I didn’t let myself think about it for a bit. Not until I’d wobbled my way through a shower and had a chance to check the weather reports. 

It was… hahaha, god, I. I still can’t believe it. Out of everything, this is the thing my head has the most trouble with, so I’ll just say it. 

The tornado that picked me up traveled 200 miles. A single funnel, almost record-breakingly huge, and I had been inside it for hours. I wasn’t even in my state anymore.  

And I was alive. I wasn’t even bleeding. And I was… drenched in that storm scent. My right hand even more so, where I could still feel the phantom tingle of the sky against my fingertips. 

It took me a few days to handle things. I bought a new car on my gifted credit card with minimal guilt involved and once I had that and new clothes and let my mother and chaser friends know I was alive, I started to drive. There were storms behind me, I knew. I could smell them so, so clearly now. But that singular scent on the wind pulled me away. 

To Florida. 

I wanted answers, I told myself, and an address where I could get them. 

And I wanted more skies. 

You can probably guess how that went. I mean, this office you’ve got here definitely isn’t the Midwestern United States. I still don’t like the Fairchilds, but I guess Simon Fairchild seems to like me. We run into each other a lot. He still finds me funny for some reason. 

We don’t… we don’t travel together. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I might be chasing storms around the world now on the Fairchild dime, but I’m not so mad as to get on an airplane with any of them. 

It’s just… he was right. 

There are so many more skies out there. I’m still fond of the storms. Nothing quite raises my pulse like the snap of lightning and thunder in the air, but… there’s just so much more. 

And the storm scent hasn’t led me wrong yet. 

#crowswritings #tma #tma advent project #HOWLS i really can't say enough how happy i was to write this one #it's something folks not from the midwest kind of struggle to accept? #like i tell folks yeah man i would stand outside to watch the storms come in and they act like i'm mad hahah #there's something beautiful and terrifying about the power of those storms that inspires such awe and respect that i go hoooghghg #oh also the fairchilds absolutely have beachfront florida property #sorry i'm telling the truth

[partycatty]

Right hear me out on the new johnny skin

Please can you write something for this ugly bitch the shock worn off and now im delusional

(Im sorry for asking for this he just looks so stupid i couldnt not)

I HATE YOU FOR REMINDING ME OF THIS ALLGAHJGIAKG

johnny cage > carrot

oh my god he looks like a carrot

warnings: look at him.

[ masterlist ]

you're sitting on johnny's couch, as it's become a regular occurrence for you to waste your time in his home. your phone becomes your best friend nearly every time, as his career of being a celebrity commonly rips his attention from you more than you're happy with. your bubbling frustration with the situation dies down when you hear his front door unlock.

"babe," he calls through the cracked door. his voice is high pitched, like he's hiding something and ashamed about it. "i-i need you to do me a favor."

"yeah?" you reply, eyes still transfixed on your phone for the moment.

"i lost a bet," he shamefully admits. "and i need you to not laugh. if you laugh, i will die."

"you'll die?" you repeat, now intrigued by whatever he's on about. he falls silent, the door barely opening more.

"baby," he tries to sound sweet but it sounds closer to him being on the verge of tears. "is it true... that thing... where like, you lose feelings if your man gets one bad haircut?"

oh, no.

"depends," you shrug, making your way to the door. "if you buzzed it, i won't be able to look at you until it grows back."

"i didn't... buzz it," he mutters. "it's... please don't laugh."

his dodging is starting to confuse and annoy you, so you walk over and pull the door completely open. the sight in front of you pulls a horrified gasp, which then turns into amusement like you've never seen. johnny's hair was gone on the sides, and a vomit-green wisp sat on top. johnny frowns with large eyes. it kind of reminds you of that really sad hamster meme. maybe if you focused enough you could imagine sad violin music at the scene.

"jo—" your attempt at saying his name comfortingly is ripped apart when a snort creeps up on you, and you slap a hand over your mouth. tears well up in your eyes as you fight for your life to not laugh.

"don't," he pleads, arms flopping to his sides. "don't laugh."

you let out a cackle through your hand, slapping another hand over it in a stupid attempt to hold it in.

"it's not funny—" in a while, you think, it wouldn't be. sure, he has the haircut, but you're the one looking at it regularly. "it's not funny."

"you're laughing. i will die."

"how in the genuine fuck did this come to be." your eyes feel like they're going to pop out of your skull from straining yourself so hard. johnny can't even look at you as he explains.

"kung lao and i made a bet that i could cut more fruit than him with his hat."

"you bet your appearance on a hat that's not yours."

"it didn't look that hard! it's a sharp hat!"

"okay, so how did the... haircut come to be??"

"he..." johnny rubs his face, groaning. "he had me walk into a barber and told the guy to fuck my shit up. he said that to the barber. oh my god i look like an idiot, don't i."

"you..." you search for something, anything to compliment him on. your eyes settle on his orange button-up and you stifle a snort. "you kind of look like a carrot."

johnny pulls his head up to meet your eyes. "what."

"it's... it's kinda cute," you murmur with the most strained grin of your life. you step forward and grab the entirety of the hair left on his head, tugging upward. "it's like... plucking you from the soil."

"ow. you're an asshole," he adds, not entirely serious. you try so hard to keep it together, so hard. but his furrowed brows, frown, and carrot-coordinated outfit finally make you snap. you double over in laughter, similar to a hyena. it is quite literally the funniest thing you'd ever seen in your entire life and you laugh so hard you lose your breath.

"IT'S NOT FUNNY!" johnny pouts, stomping his foot and crossing his arms while you howl and slap him around as you try to ground yourself. "I LOOK LIKE A DUMBASS."

"OH MY GOD I'M LOSING IT, I'M GONNA THROW UP— YOU LOOK LIKE A CARROT —"

"STOP SAYING THAT."

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #johnny cage #mk1 #johnny cage x reader #marley writes ☆

[zombiedumbie]

Idk, but this is living free on my head and i just thought about it. I don't know if this request or not. Or maybe HC. But, Law as Howl from Howl moving castle. Like, maybe he got his surgeon power from magic or something, and decide to take his heart out because it's have heavy burden? Maybe he doesn't wanna feel anything and already hurt himself too bad since Corazon died. And he grew up as handsome man but also cold.

Idk, you can continue the headcanon XD

I love this movie with all my heart!! And this HC made me rewatch this movie, thank you so much. I'm not so good with HCs, this one turned out quite long, but I think I expressed my ideas well. ugh i really want to write more about it later

Law would definitely have a feud with Doflamingo (who is a very powerful and sadistic wizard) precisely because of Rosinante, maybe Doflamingo is even the cause of a war. Rumors of the Surgeon of the Death would spread throughout the country, people would say, "Law will take you to his castle and steal your heart!" and I imagine Law's castle to be an earthly version of the Polar Tang, yellow and full of gadgets on the outside, but empty and dusty on the inside.

I was thinking of Law living alone, but I'm really tempted by the idea of Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin playing the role of Markl and being Law's assistants (or maybe just Bepo? but I imagine Law saving all 3 somewhat as he did in his Light Novel).

Unlike Howl, Law doesn't make a deal with a demon; he just used his powers to remove his heart in exchange for not feeling the pain of losing Rosinante anymore. However, since he could easily die if his heart were attacked, he keeps it constantly moving in his castle, which uses his heart to move.

Since wizards without their own hearts slowly become monsters, Law thought he could use this to get stronger and fight Doflamingo, without thinking much about how he would slowly lose his humanity and never return to who he was since his feelings had practically been torn away with his own heart.

Until he meets you. I would change Law's powers a bit just to recreate that iconic scene when they walk in the air (and he's a wizard!! His powers are not limited to surgeries, but definitely focused). He would be running away from Doflamingo's magical henchmen and find you being harassed by soldiers. He definitely only helps you thinking he can use you to escape (we're talking about a man without a heart here!), but it doesn't work out so well, and he uses magic to escape with you walking in the air (he still has a bit of a sense of justice)

"Don't be dramatic", if you're scared. "Just look ahead and walk as if you're on the ground, or I'll drop you", this shouldn't be a threat; he just didn't have enough energy to carry both of you in the air, but his tone of voice certainly sounded rude.

He suspects when he finds you again in his castle, scared for being attacked by Doflamingo (that damn guy thought you were challenging him, you know, sadistic stuff), but only believes you when he sees the paper in your pocket, with that cheeky and cut grin, but he's still suspicious.

He denies your request for help, you try to negotiate and say you'll help with the cleaning, but he denies that too. Then you just sigh and say that with this curse, you can't go back to your normal life.

Tired, Law just accepts that you can stay if you really keep your promise to help with the cleaning.

You end up making friends with his assistants, who are more than happy to have someone to help clean, as the 4 of them were not at all organized, and the place is a complete mess.

Law cries when he realizes you cleaned the small room that hid his heart and even removed the thick layer of dust covering the blue film that protected it; the place became brighter and easier to enter without all that dirt. He doesn't even understand why he's crying; everyone gets confused and worried when he starts melting into a puddle of yellow goo, but you just ask them to fill the bathtub with hot water.

After that, Law becomes a bit more present during meals, and even talks more with you. The change in his mood, always so down, is obvious, but you prefer not to comment on anything to avoid making him uncomfortable.

Slowly, he began to feel more comfortable with the idea of having feelings when joy filled his castle, but still too scared to take back his heart.

The turning point comes when Law realizes that it's becoming increasingly difficult to return to his human form, and at some point in the next few days, he probably won't be able to return anymore. The fear of feeling that weight on his chest again is too much, but Law still wants to be human; he wants… to love.

He would probably postpone as much as possible to put his heart back in his chest, thinking that he would be too weak to fight Doflamingo this way. He still wants to protect you all; that's why he doesn't want to tell you what's happening to avoid worrying you.

This selfish little shitty brat would only get his heart back at a very critical moment (probably when he's near death lol) and when he realizes that he doesn't have to fight alone to protect everyone, especially when Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin are his wizard apprentices, and when he also realizes that you wouldn't be happy to see him die for you when he could save himself and save his own humanity.

#one piece #trafalgar law #zombiedumbie answers

[takadasaiko]

20 Questions For Writers

I was tagged by the lovely @illegalcerebral !

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

303

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

2,425,506

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Are we talking about right now or overall? Right this moment I'm actively writing on a Star Wars fic and I have been poking at both an old and a new Once Upon a Time fic. Send help. Somewhere in here I need to write on my own project.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Second Chances (Avengers)

Howl Until it Hurts (Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency)

The Price to be Paid (Once Upon a Time)

A Flicker of Light (Star Wars)

Everything Back to You (The Blacklist)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to! I'm much better at responding to comments on current projects (especially the most recent chapter that's been posted).

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I really don't know... While I count a story a success if you're reaching for the kleenex box, people that read my stories know they can count on what I refer to as an earned ending. It's a good/happy ending with a ton of pain to get us there, but all in all I have a strong and proven habit of bringing characters back from the dead and giving the ships in my stories a solid ending.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Again, most of them are.

8. Do you get hate on your fic?

Oh sure. I'd say the most I received was in the Blacklist fandom. I got everything from asking me to change the name of my fic because it was the same song lyric the other author had chosen to being told I was an abuse condoner because I shipped a Mr and Mrs Smith styled couple. That was a truly wild fandom back in the day.

9. Do you write smut?

I don't. I'm very much a fade-to-black kind of writer.

10. Do you write crossovers?

Not really. Every great once and a while something might line up, but in general I keep things in-world.

I will say that one of my favourite fics ever was a crossover between OUAT and the Hunger Games that @toseehowthestoryends wrote.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Maybe? I feel like someone posted fics over on a site without my permission. If memory serves, they left my pen name on it though, so there are worse things.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I've had people ask if they are allowed to, but if they ever finished the project I don't know.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Yep! I used to co-write very reguarly.

14. What‘s your all-time favourite ship?

Listen now. That's like asking me to choose a favourite child. What kind of rudeness is that? :P

I'll go with some of my longest running and ships I've loved for many years, how does that sound?

SkyJade (Luke Skywalker and Mara Jade from Star Wars)

Keen2 (Tom and Liz Keen from The Blacklist)

Dick Grayson/Robin/Nighting and Barbara Gordon/Batgirl/Oracle from Batman

Rumbelle (Rumplestiltskin and Belle from OUAT)

Romy (Remy LeBeau/Gambit and Rogue from X-Men)

15. What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I keep looking at Burn the Worlds (OUAT) and thinking about picking it back up again. It was such an interesting and, dare I say unique premise that I'd love to finish it. I actually poked at it a bit the other day, so there's hope yet.

16. What’s your writing strengths?

I've always leaned into dialogue. I enjoy it, I've been told I'm pretty good at it, and when it flows it can make a scene. You can learn so much through what's said and all the little spaces between those words.

Interestingly enough, I think one of my weaknesses has become one of my strengths over the years. I used to be terrible at fight scenes, but I forced myself to write them and found that, eventually, I became better. Now I really enjoy them. They're fast pace and snappy and flow oh so nicely if everything fits into place :D

17. What’s your writing weaknesses?

For the life of me I can't keep a story contained? I'm also very bad at 'killing my darlings', as they say. Unless it's either a character I hate or a super minor character, I'm not fond of killing them.

I'm looking forward to Palpatine's eventual demise in AFoL....

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I guess it depends on the situation and how much dialogue. There are characters that littler foreign phrases regularly like Remy from X-Men and his sporadic French, but I wouldn't be comfortable in trying to write blocks of French dialogue. The opportunity to screw it up is just too large and it's too difficult for the audience to read.

Saying that, I have a vague recollection of doing it for a story and adding the translations at the bottom of the chapter. Can't remember what story it was for, but in general I try not to make a habit of it unless the story demands it.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Oh wow... I was going through some old stored documents the other day at my folks' place and found a collection of pages for what kiddo me was referring to as Lion King 2. Does that count?

I think Gundam Wing is probably the real answer. You know, when I knew what fanfiction was.

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

Again, you're asking for the favourite child. Rude.

I have some that have a very special place in my heart:

Everything Back to You (The Blacklist), Such Great Heights (Wynonna Earp), A Flicker of Light (Star Wars), Second Chances (Marvel), and Courage of the Stars (Once Upon a Time)

Thank you again for the tag! No pressure tags going out to:

@theherothechampiontheinquisitor, @rebelmeg, @nimata-beroya, @jedimordsith, @clawedandcute, @ice-whisper, @intricatecakes, @exlibrisfangirl, @strivia, and anyone else!

#fanfiction meme

[seaside-writings]

Hello, hello, all you holly jolly people! It is the first day of my “12 Days of Prompts” event and we're starting off with something a little scary.

Every Christmas season there are two horror movies that my family and I watch over and over again. The first one as you can call see is “Krampus” and the second you’ll see later on!

Krampus is by far one of my favorite Christmas movies, I know that sounds strange, but it’s the truth. I love the monster designs, how the characters a portrayed, and how it still feels more like a Christmas movie than a horror movie, even during some of the actual horror parts. Plus, I like that it doesn’t try and take itself too seriously.

So if you haven’t seen it yet, I highly recommend it!

Like always if you do use these prompts please tag me so I can see what you’ve made!

I hope you all stay blessed and safe throughout your day.

Merry Christmas & Happy Holidays: Celia ❤💚❄⛄🎄

“It started with the wind, on a cold night, much like this,” - “It's Christmas. Nothing bad is going to happen on Christmas!” - "That's what a family is, baby. People you try to be friends with, even when you don't have a lot in common,” - “You're not thinking of going after that snowplow alone, are you?” “A Shepherd's gotta protect his flock,” - “It's the blizzard, honey, nothing's working right now,” - “They can see dust specks on Mars, but no one noticed a giant blizzard hurtling towards us,” “Well, as soon as the power's back, you can write an angry e-mail to the National Weather Service,” - “I would just be calmer if I knew how we were gonna survive Christmas with 12 people stuck in a house with no hot water, no heat, and no electricity,” - “You know, she and I, we butt heads, but I can't imagine life without her,” Yeah, I know what you mean,” _ “And that night, in the darkness of a howling blizzard… I got my wish,” “Oh, lay off of him! The kid deserves a prize for telling the truth!” - “It's just a scratch,” “Oh, my gosh,” “It looks like something bit you.” “Nope! Probably a bear trap under the snow or something,” “We don't have bears here,” - “Dear Santa, I know I haven't been great this year and I'm sorry for that, but I was really hoping you could help out me and my family this Christmas,” - “So, where’s the nog? I need to get merry,” - “Come on, kids, I'm gonna teach you how to make peppermint schnapps,” - "A little sugar, a little spice, makes everything nice." - "I haven't been this hungover since the Pope died." - “But Krampus didn't take me that night… He left me, as a reminder of what happens when hope is lost, when belief is forgotten… and the Christmas spirit dies,” - “They too had given up. And eventually, so did I,” - “What’s she saying?” “This… This is all our fault… he’s come for us all... He?” - “And for the first time, I didn't wish for a miracle, I wished for them to go away… a wish I would come to regret,” - “I'm old enough to know when life is coming at me with its pants down,” - "Listen, why don't we just leave? Right? We can all pile in the truck and we'll just see as far as we can get, and we can pick up-” “The truck's gone,” - “And I just wanna say I’m sorry for… thinking you’re such a spineless dick all these years,” - “Poor bastard must have sailed clear through,” “Looks more like the opposite,” “What’d you mean?” “The glass is punched in,” - “Don't suppose you got me a backup generator for Christmas, did you?” “Yeah, it's under the tree next to your ties and underwear,” - “Blah blah blah. Bullshit, bullshit. Ah, here we go, the wishlist!” - “Enough with the sappy crap, let's open up the damn presents,” - “See? Let them out of your sight for one second, and boom, shotgun wedding,” “Can you not, please,” “Well, you ought to know,” - “What did you see up there?” “You don't wanna know, sweetheart,” "Honey, I just got my ass kicked by a bunch of Christmas cookies, so trust me when I tell you I can take it!" - “It's not starting! It's not starting! Why isn't it starting!?”

“I think our best bet is to stay put, board up all the doors and windows, and as soon as the weather breaks, we'll go find her,”

“Hey, asshole! I take back my wish, I take it all back! Give me back my family!” - “I, um-- I just wanna say thanks for, uh, you know, saving my ass back there,” - “Twisted fairytale horseshit!!” - "I've hunted a lot of game in my day, those are hooves. Big ones too. Could be an elk or a goat,” What kind of goat walks on its hind legs? - “How much ammo do you have?” “A couple shells still loaded, maybe a dozen in my pocket. Why?” - “What? “She said we're screwed,” - “They had forgotten the spirit of Christmas, the sacrifice of giving. And my family was no different,” - “And as he had for thousands of years, Krampus came not to reward, but to punish, not to give, but to take,” - “I tried to help them to believe again, but we were no longer the loving family I remembered,” - “I knew Saint Nicholas was not coming this year. Instead, it was a much darker, more ancient spirit. The shadow of Saint Nicholas. It was Krampus,” - “I just wanted Christmas to be like it used to be, but forget it! I hate Christmas! I hate all of you!” - “Evil Santa? She’ll be yammering about a rabid Easter Bunny come Spring,” - “What are we gonna tell the kids?” “I don't know. The truth?” “Sure, which version of it?” - “Yeah, well, you know-- she always gets a little weird around Christmas,” - “Baby, please don't do this, listen, we can figure something else out,” “This is how I figure things out,” - “You had mom's angel this whole time?” “Yeah, I thought you knew,” “No,” - “It was almost Christmas, but this Christmas was darker, less cheerful. But I still believed in Santa, in magic and miracles, and the hope that we could find joy again,” - “I'm sorry, I just wanted Christmas to be like it used to be,” - “Our village had given up on miracles, and on each other,” - “Remember we used to fight over who got to place her?” “Yeah, you fought dirty, I still have the scars,” “Where do you think my girls get it from?” - “I don't like this,” “Whoever did this is a demented son of a bitch,” - “Come on, come on, please,” “I'm trying! I don't even know how to drive a stick! We have a hybrid! - “The snowplow?” “The keys were in the ignition-” “And it was beat to hell!’ “But if it runs, I drive it back here, and then everyone piles in the car and follows while I clear a path in front of us,” “And go where?” “The mall doubles as an emergency shelter, and if it's empty, we'll try the police station,” “And what if they're gone too?” “Then we keep driving till we see lights or people, plowed road, somewhere safe for the kids,” “And then we bring help back here,” - “I think it's panicking, trying to get outside,” “Well, we boarded everything up,” - “What are you doing? We've got four other kids here to protect,” - “It's not what you do, it's what you believe, and what you've given up," - “I think all this might be my fault,” - “What are we gonna do now?” “We keep the fire hot,” - “Oh, hey, there you are! Hey, kiddo. we thought the sugarplum fairies may have gotten you,” - “Everybody, hold on to each other,” - “Be good,” - “Wow, what's this all about?” “It's nothing just… merry Christmas,” “Merry Christmas to you too, baby,”

#Krampus #Krampus (2015) #Christmas #Christmas 2023 #Happy Holidays #Happy Holidays 2023 #12 days of christmas #12 days of prompts #writing #writing prompt #writing prompts #writing prompt list #writing prompt lists #Christmas prompt #Christmas prompts #Christmas prompt list #Christmas prompt lists #dialogue #dialogue prompt #dialogue prompts #dialogue prompt list #dialogue prompt lists #family #family prompt #family prompts #horror #horror prompt #horror prompts #Holiday #Holiday prompt

[leighsartworks216]

20 Questions for Fic Writers Game

Tagged by @shenanigans-and-imagines! I don't usually do these, but hell why not

1 - How many works do you have on AO3?

I have 56 individual "works", but that doesn't count how many chapters/actual fics I have posted there

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2 - What's your total AO3 word count?

373,417

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3 - What fandoms do you write for?

So many, oh god. Markiplier Egos, Marvel, The Witcher, Star Wars, Jurassic Park, NCIS, Lord of the Rings/The Hobbit, The Arcana, For The Love Of The Gods, Ace Attorney, Indiana Jones, Breath of the Wild/Tears of the Kingdom, Howl's Moving Castle, Enola Holmes, Doctor Who, Star Trek, Baldur's Gate 3. These are just all the fandoms I have characters I will write for in, so even though I don't have fics for all these fandoms, I will write for them

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4 - What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

You Have A Type, Don't You? - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

I Come With Knives (series) - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Designated Lockpicker - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Astarion Drabbles - Astarion x Tav/Reader ficlets

You Hate Me - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

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5 - Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

It depends on the comment, but I don't respond all the time. If someone has a question, or I feel I need to correct them/steer them in the right direction, I'll answer, but I don't respond to most of the ones gushing/aweing over the fic, not to say I don't still appreciate them all immensely.

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6 - What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Rom, My Beloved is my saddest/angstiest from my individual works, but there are some really angsty fics in my Loki and Markiplier Ego compiled works. I wrote it because Rom is my favorite Bloodborne boss and I just loved her lore, but tragedy abounds when you talk about a Soulsborne game

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7 -What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

A lot of my fics nowadays have happy endings, but my favorite of my completed individual works is probably The Rescue of Magistrate Ancunin, because it's open-ended as to what could happen next but it takes a devastating moment from Astarion's life and makes it nice and a little silly

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8 - Do you get hate on fics?

In recent memory, no, but I'm sure I have at some point. I usually delete it and move on

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9 - Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Very vanilla but very emotionally-charged. I have a tendency to focus more on the emotions of those involved and how they feel about their partner over how the sex feels

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10 - Do you write crossovers?

No, but I have thought about doing a Witcher and Bloodborne crossover, because I think it would be very interesting

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11 - Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of. I did check through the major sites when AI bots started scraping fics off AO3, but I didn't see anything then. If anything does come up though, absolutely let me know

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12 - Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but! Back when I wrote on Wattpad, I had some very lovely person ask to read my fic on Youtube. I agreed and I wish I could find it, because I just remember being so elated by it

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13 - Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope. I don't really know how to approach co-writing, and it's just not something I'm too interested in rn

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14 - What's your all time favorite ship?

Uh uhm pass (I can't think of any 💀)

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15 - What's a WIP that you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I have a Breath of the Wild fic planned out, with notes and even a first chapter written out and future ones with little bits drabbled out, but when I tried revisiting it again, I was just so lost in what I had planned. I hope one day I can finish it, but it's not gonna be soon

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16 - What are your writing strengths?

I've been told that it's the little details I add that ground it more into reality, ie hair getting caught on earrings or a voice cracking while trying to sing

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17 - What are your writing weaknesses?

I feel like I don't describe things complex enough. I can describe emotions or scenery and dip in a little bit, but I can never get it deep *enough*, but I know that comes mostly with neurodivergences and comparing myself to others

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18 - Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I hate when writers have foreign words/phrases in the middle of a fic and don't translate them until the very very end. That means I have so pick up the context clues around it, translate it myself, or risk getting spoiled trying to find the translation

Also, if your character uses sign language, don't put it in italics or ' ', just write it out like if it was verbal dialogue. "They signed, '[fill in the blank]'" Describe the way the gestures are formed (sloppy, sharp, indecipherable, fast) to get across emotion, and also the expressions on their face, since sign languages are very heavily reliant on facial emotions to ass meaning to the signs themselves

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19 - First fandom you wrote for?

Hard to say. I first started my writing on Wattpad, and have since been locked out of that account, but it was probably Doctor Who, knowing me

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20 - Favorite fic you've written?

I have a hard time picking favorites! And I like a bunch of them for a variety of different reasons, and always have things to nitpick about them

I will say I am really really enjoying my work on I Come With Knives so far. It's a passion project and I have some very big, angsty things planned for the future that I can't wait to get to >:3

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I don't really know who to tag for these things ever, so if you want to do it, go for it :)

#fanfic #fanfiction #20 questions

[ferrocyan]

I'm so happy to see another wolreeq enjoyer! Do you have a favourite thing or detail about your wolreeq?

HI THANK YOU FOR ASKING I AM SO HAPPY TO MEET A FELLOW ENJOYER i most definitely have one favorite detail ;3 the most basic of which is that my wol and lue-reeq are similar in so many ways.

when i first met reeq in the story and he says that he's on this cardinal virtue hunt to become the greatest hunter of all time, i was immediately like oh, that's just like tart! bc my wol also initially set out as an adventurer and scion in order to become the greatest hero of eorzea, haha. she was really wrecked by the events of post-stormblood, and being transported to a new world presents a chance to start over, so meeting a guy who is just like how she was in the past really rekindled tart's adventuring spirit

they are both also really dumb. i was howling when reeq was like "heyyy bestie it just occurred to me i forgot to ask your name lol didn't we become best friends sooo fast?" like buddy. my man. he is so lucky to have met my wol, who after saving thancred from praetorium thought she should introduce herself to him. bc tart thought thancred had been possessed by lahabrea the entire time lmao. anyone else and reeq would be screwed

they are both prideful people, too. i can't say the biggest example bc i should be writing that for my fanfic (head in hands) but there's also how their pride blinds them to the perils of their quest. tart in being the warrior of light has gotten herself killed multiple times, but still charges ahead and acts as a hero out of pride. she was also completely unaware of how her fame would get her targeted by people like teledji. reeq is similar in how he sees himself capable of facing andreia alone, right? yeah there's that, but also

if you did the lvl 80 role quest before liberating eulmore from vauthry and ran'jit, there's a line of dialogue in the role quest which gets altered to reflect the msq progression

reeq is a skilled archer. he's been passionate at it since childhood, and he is good enough at it to successfully hunt dangerous beasts-turned-sin-eater on his own. he wants to be acknowledged with this skill, so he thought to be the greatest hunter of all time, by defeating the current greatest hunter of all time. but she's now been turned to an angel, and here in angel city the god-king of mankind has declared that angels are not to be killed or defeated. and reeq is somehow completely blindsided by this fact. he's 18, there's little possibility he remembers eulmore before vauthry became dictator... but what he definitely remembers are stories about how hunters were famous and admired. he lets his pride as a hunter blind him to the obvious outcome

these two jumped into their respective quests without thinking, only looking to the eventual outcome that they'd be famous. they're shallow, dumb, too prideful for their own good. they don't deserve to be the heroes. and yet out of sheer dumb luck, tart being hydaelyn's chosen one, reeq being born a male mystel allowing him to avoid being taken by andreia, they're the ones who succeed.

then again, despite their shallow reasoning, they do it all because they find out that this is their calling. reeq says at the end of their adventure that he's never felt more alive than when he's on this journey with tart. that was how tart felt when she joined the scions, too. they grow to have deeper motivations, reeq to uphold the warriors of light's legacy, and tart to support alphinaud's resolve. they find their passions and do their best to be proper heroes

that's not even everything but i'll stop here www i didn't set out to ship my wol with reeq because they're similar, but it ends up becoming one of my favorite things about them! i love finding (and making up) parallels so much. they're both just little guys who are so lame and kinda suck. but they get better wwww

anyway thanks again for your question, i love talking about wolreeq so much especially mine--actually i've made a post about what i love about wolreeq in general too. but i love mine more hehe (i made up a ship name for them: lighthunter) please talk to me about them some more, i am demonstrably so normal and hinged about wolreeq. also have pics

#wolreeq #lue-reeq #tart the wol #lighthunter #'say one thing about wolreeq' you have activated my trap card #come off anon pspspsps tell me about your wolreeq too i would love to know!!

[kit-williams]

Kinda shameless self insert? With my ADHD ass it makes it hard to try to do reader/yn fics so here's a shameless self insert and yeah anything I write is gonna be ADHD coded. First time writing for this fandom OH BOY and first time writing in awhile.

Some idea backstory its the year 2020-2021 but "Goblin" is from 2023 and suddenly a bunch of fictional men are real. This short is set after all the fun plot set up of "why they believe you" and dealing with your clearance having ass that can just open up lovely bits of information for them. (yes I wanted to skip the hard part of setting up plot) Oh and her phone still seems to be connected to back home so there was a fun moment of accidentally showing Soap his Wiki page "Why am I K.I.A?"

Goblin is Female, is 30, is American, was married, and has ADHD I guess you could say unreliable narrator too?

This is super unbeta read so I guess enjoy my insane ramblings

They really shouldn't make obstacle courses so much fun. I think as I just swing back and forth on one of the ropes over the mud pit, something I would worry about later. I couldn't stop this one impulse it just looked too fun and nobody was using it. I've seen soldiers just do a casual run through of it so why not just have a little bit of fun. I sigh as I continue to swing back and forth and spin slightly. There wasn't much for me to do today but Price was adamant on making sure I was earning some wage, but hard to keep a coding Goblin happy.

Was weird to find out that there was a version of myself here so no sense in going to try and woo my alternate husband... I've accepted the fact that this is not a dream... but hey I get to try and see if the lotto numbers from back home work here and I can give myself a nice stack of cash, Nikolai is such a wonderful man and knowing my dumbass I won't notice a damn thing. That's been the hardest thing... going from sleeping in a bed with another person to being alone... no warm body next to yours with an arm wrapped tightly around you. Muttering for you to not go to work and just stay home... god and living on my own for literally the first time in my life is going as awful as I dreaded. My nuro ass can't thrive alone only survive... momma raised a survivor but I was so use to not being in survival mode with my husband that it stung to go back.

At least Soap or Johnny was nice enough to stop on by occasionally of course he'd make it worse at times... triggering me and making me all antsy. Thank Jesus for Simon or Ghost... I couldn't tell if he was still mad at me calling him Simon when I first saw him but now he just helps. I think he was the first person to pick up the fact that I could hardly live alone.

I had to be thankful that Gaz and Price were married and that I didn't have the four of them mother henning no I only got two though. I continued to swing back and forth without a care in the world. Though I started to get a care... I looked down at the mud in the pit. It was a good drop compared to the side of the mud hole. Just a swing to the side. I gripped the rope tightly as I would move my foot out and get unbalanced but I was so focused that when I heard Johnny say if I needed help it made me discombobulated.

Ghost rushed over after hearing a distinctive shriek and Soap howling with laughter. He rushed over in time to see Johnny's face get covered in mud as their tech Goblin crawled her way out of the mud. How she just smiled at him as he walked over and she just simply shrugged. "Yeah not my smartest lack of impulse as I'm now muddy for the rest of the day. But! I did figure out my coding issue! 'Scuse me gentlemen!" His hand shot out before she could get too far.

"Yer not going to get the computer room muddy." Ghost said as if it was obvious.

"But I don't have a change of clothes and I have an inspired moment." Goblin said but let out her screech as she was just picked up and taken over to the women's barracks.

"You need to shower hen. I'll get you something while your clothes are tossed into the wash."

"Fine. But I'm blaming you when I forget my eureka moment."

"Yeah I can live with that." Ghost said pushing her inside to the showers.

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Goblin was the best way to describe her. She was small, loud, and weird. Not given the fact she was from a few years in the future and the fact that they all existed as video game characters but her quirks, her knowledge, and just the way she carried herself. Soap and her could feed off of each other till she crashed and that is when Ghost would have to intervene. She spoke less and less about her life back home... the lads she left behind as it seems that life continued on and she was still there.

She was giving up on the fact that this was a dream as well... and for the two of them she was opening up how painfully lonely she was. She could see her old life right there being lived by another version of herself. For Simon he knew for her it was akin to the trauma he went through... all of her nets and family and friends basically gone. Ghost could help her keep grounded and well Price offering her a job to have some cash for her to spend on hobbies helped. But more often than not she was at the base unwilling to go home alone where there was no one to soothe her mind.

Soap was eager to fill that void for her, perhaps it was misguided in the sense of he was thankful to her, but Ghost enjoyed the way they would just sit in silence and a few times she thanked him for just sitting in the same room as she played a game, drew, or whatever she did to stave off the pending breakdown. Though she joked that she was like that song Tubthumping she always got back up again. But Ghost was worried when she wouldn't bounce back.

#cod #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #OC #first fanfic in awhile #Sorry if this is a fever dream #But I decided to post a bit of my coping #I mentioned that my husband nearly died of pancreatitis #Yeah just my head wasn't in a good spot #Doubt I'll write the single mom stuff since he got better but I wanted to try my hand at this #cod x oc

[dotster001]

Hi! I saw your match up posts and absolutely love them. <33 I was wondering if I could get a match up with twisted wonderland;;;

I’m a 19 year old, demisexual ambivert girl. My mbti is infp, my star sign is aries. I have black hair, styled as a wolf cut, 5’3 in height and slightly on the chubbier side! I absolutely thrive in the rain, thunderstorms calm me and there’s nothing better than good music, a blanket and rain for me. I find solace in stories and fantasy, many have said that my writing is amazing. My favorite color is purple and a lot of items dear to me are that color. It’s easy to make me happy, simply chatting with someone I love or eating my favorite food is enough to pick me right back up.

My friends have said I’m like a mix of sunshine and mystery, friendly but also slightly aloof. They say I’m a bit wiser than my age but I can be just as chaotic and outgoing as Cater. Honestly I feel more like a forlorn writer who’s just lived through a lot;;; It makes me curious to know who I’d match with!

Event Closed

(so idk if this is the match you were expecting, but I thought it would be such a cute match!)

I match you with Jack Howl.

First off, let's talk about your sexuality. It's canon that wolf beastmen mate for life, which means it's canon that Jack is canonically a demisexual. I will not be taking criticism at this time, I will die with this HC. Anyway, this means you guys don't have to have any uncomfortable conversations, as you both will be on the same page. So that's kind of nice.

As a fellow 5' 3", chubbier, female, wouldn't it be so nice to be cuddled by this big strong wolf man? Just saying….

I hc that he is a surprisingly good cook. So, when you have a bad day, and need your favorite food to perk you up, he always comes in clutch with your favorites. And it's always so good! He has to be adding a secret ingredient, because he somehow makes the best versions of your favorites. (Spoiler alert, the secret ingredient is love ❤️)

He's chill with you being a mix of all of and sunshine. He's a shy dude, so the aloofness makes it easier to get to know you, and the sunshine helps light up his life. He finds joy in observing your varying moods. He's a go along with the ride kind of guy, so he's accepting of however you act.

He loves your writing. He's not really a creative, so he's in awe of your skills. He likes you to read to him, and if you get inspired by something he said or did, he'll get blushy, and won't be able to look you in the eye. But his wagging tail gives everything away.

He loves your wisdom. Some of your fellow first years are, no offense, imbeciles. It's exhausting. So he's glad that even if you can be chaotic, he can count on you to be chill when need be, and know how to act in varying situations. Aka, the both of you are now the matriarch and patriarch of the first year gang.

It's a rainy day, which is nice for your mood. But it means Jack can't go on his morning run. Instead the two of you get to cuddle in his room, while periodically being parents to his numerous Cacti and other plants (many of which you bought for him).

"We should name them!" You said, breaking the comfortable silence the two of you had been sitting in.

"What?" He seemed confused. Ah well, you knew your creative brain would have some struggles explaining itself to Jack when you two started dating.

"The plants! We need to give them names!"

"Why?"

"Cause they're our children!"

Jack looked away for a moment, bashfully rubbing the back of his neck.

"That makes sense, I guess," he muttered, and you knew if you felt his face right now, it would be burning.

"But you have to come up with most of them. You're so good at naming characters, I'm sure you have great names for our children."

Now it was your turn to be bashful. But that's basically what your relationship is. Two bashful people madly in love with one another.

#twisted wonderland #1.5k followers #matchups #twisted wonderland x reader #jack howl #jack howl x reader

[romeulusroy]

hello! i would like to request a ship, if that’s okay! my name is caitlin , and i am biromantic + asexual. pronouns are she/her. i am 5’9, brown hair and brown eyes. i think the people i usually go for are the ones who can make me smile and sort of get me out of my own head- I’m a very inner-focused sort of person, so when someone actually makes me want to engage with them and can make me smile and laugh, it’s something that i really value. one of my biggest insecurities is probably my weight, im a little on the heavier side and that is something that has really hindered me mentally in the past, though i have been becoming more accepting of myself and my body recently. i love painting and reading and writing, like i would definitely say im a quality time kind of gal and would love to do these things with my partner. i also love graphic design. favorite book is this is how you lose the time war and favorite movie is howl’s moving castle. i absolutely love dogs (specifically bichons), hate spiders (and just bugs in general). i hope this is enough, thank you so much in advance!!

Hi my love! I ship you with: Greg Hirsch!!!

He loves your body. He knows that you can be insecure about your body, your weight especially, but he doesn't see a single flaw. You're perfect just the way you are, and he needs you to know that. He's very touchy, very affectionate, wanting you to know that he loves every part of you, even the ones you don't particularly love or even like. He hates when you get down on yourself, when your thoughts stop you from doing something or wearing something because you don't think you should. He also loves your laugh. Greg is a pretty awkward guy, so whether or not he's trying to joke around, people genuinely laugh at him. He doesn't really mind, as long as they're happy. But you? Greg would slip on a banana peel and fall on his ass if it meant he got to hear your laugh again. It's music to his ears. The sound of your laugh, especially when it's with him or after he's made a joke, makes the blood rush to his face. He's always trying to bring you out of your shell like that.

You love his height. Greg is so tall so it makes him a bit awkward, a bit gangly. He doesn't mean to show it off so much, but he can't help it when you need a book off the highest shelf. He's more than happy to get it for you. His hugs are the best, he's all arms. You feel small and protected walking with him, enjoying the height difference. He looks great once he finds a suit that actually fits. Before, without your help, the seams ended at his ankles and wrists. With your help though, he finally has a closet full of clothes that fit.

Your relationship is funny. Greg brings you out of your shell so easily, effortlessly. In doing so, you share all your greatest loves with him. You watch your favorite movie under a blanket with a bucket of popcorn. It takes him forever, but he does read your favorite book so you can talk about it. He sends you lots of bichon puppy videos throughout the day, even when he's supposed to be hard at work. You spend a lot of time together just doing simple thing: reading, cooking, doing separate things on your phones in the same room. There's no need to fill the silence, it's a comfortable kind of quiet.

Your first date isn't actually a date. You started talking at a work event, neither of you too thrilled about the amount of people stuffed into Logan's home. You get talking about work, co-workers, the boss and his crazy family. It's there that he falls in love with your laugh, that he falls for you. You both know that it wasn't really a first date, but by the end you were both so nervous it basically felt like it.

Relationship Headcanon: Greg absolutely takes care of the spiders for you. He's not afraid of them at all. He thinks they're kinda cute, even. He usually just cups them in his hands and lets them go outside, waving goodbye to his new friend. He thinks it's cute that you're scared of them, funny, though he knows better than to hold them up to you and show them. He names them all too, assuring you that Frank and Dan and Steve would never, ever hurt you.

Hope you like it! 💜💜💜

#greg hirsch #kaitbishop-ships #ships are closed!

[muchalucha-art]

¡Mucha Lucha! Through the past backwards! Episode 50

Season 3 had started with a renewed sense of energy for us: the 'Mega Matches' concept (ultimately renamed 'Gigante') had given the storylines a good direction to follow. Unfortunately though, the network- Kds'WB - had starting using this as a stick to beat us with, and an increasing number of story ideas were getting rejected at outline stage for not being 'mega' enough.

(Shamrock n Roll and Medico Mayhem were rejected so many times, but I kept resending them until they were eventually greenlit just to shut me up!)

The network had also sabotaged the whole Mega/Gigante concept themselves by running unaired 2nd season stories during season 3, which confused everyone and really made it all so disjointed. And so by mid season we felt that a lot of our potentially great ideas had been unfairly rejected. Plus, the network itself had been shaken up, and our directive from the new Kids' WB boss was now: 'You're the ones making the cartoons...do what you do best"!

Out of frustration I threw up (not literally :) an idea: 'How about the mascaritas go to a medieval themed restaurant and have to kill their own food!' Which got howls of laughter from our director Ken Kessel, and ultimately became 'Smarticus'!

Despite what the writing credits say, this was my story and designs - even the names of the characters were my stupid puns: Biggus Dorkus was a play on Biggus Dickus from Monty Python's 'Life Of Brian'. 'Clayus Cassius' was a reference to Muhammad Ali's former name, Cassius Clay.

Which brings me to Niko Sushi. You know what I like about this cartoon? ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING! Niko Sushi was ALL Gabe Swarr. He wrote that one too, but received no credit. What an absolute genius episode. This, I realized, is what cartoons should be and I could point out the highlights for days. Better to just rewatch it and enjoy. Watch especially for the bit where despite being overlooked in favor of his teamates, the Flea goes into a happy, anticipatory dance KNOWING that ultimately he will get his turn. It's all from Gabe's drawings in the storyboard. You really can't write stuff like that.

I seriously LOVE this cartoon and am so proud of it.

I previously uploaded some images and thoughts from Niko Sushi HERE (Sorry the dailymotion videos aren't there anymore).

#mucha lucha #mucha lucha! #episode 50 #gabe swarr

[faillen]

not me staring at all the wips with greedy, greedy eyes. alas, i’ll limit myself to two. can i hear more about untitled works 5 and 7 please? 🥺

- pranpatsocool

Hey lovely!

I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize so much time had passed since you sent me in this ask (Is work kicking my ass? You get one guess)—I would love to tell you about Untitled Works 5 and 7

So if you follow me on Twitter, you might’ve seen Untitled Work 7 as a thread while I was taking word prompts. It’s a mob AU with a backstory that lives in my head eternally. Since it’s incredibly unlikely that I’ll ever wind up being able to write the entire thing, I’m just gonna…drop all 1.5k under the read more (along with Untitled Work 5)

Parakul says, “I don’t like getting my hands dirty,” like everyone on the street doesn’t already know that Dissaya’s son is more partial to directing as opposed to carrying out, like there aren’t rumors that he doesn’t know how to fire a gun, and that Dissaya is so protective because her son is fantastic at planning but too soft otherwise.

The last two theories are looking more and more unlikely the longer Pat feels the chill of hard concrete under his knees, and the sticky slide of blood down his temple from where Parakul had pistol-whipped him moments before, but at least the first one is accurate.

Pat lets a smirk twitch at the corner of his mouth, waiting for Parakul to take a step back—to let his incensed right hand man take over.

But then Parakul doesn’t. Instead, he just crosses his arms, tapping the barrel of his gun against his elbow, and regards Pat and Korn carefully. 

“You don’t have to,” Pat mocks, slightly disconcerted by the continued attention.

Parakul simply smiles, sharp enough that Pat realizes immediately that he’s done exactly what Parakul was hoping for, has cut himself with his words, and now Parakul has scented blood. He lets his gaze bounce over the rest of the men in the room, and finds that none of them look tense or meanly amused about Parakul taking the lead—in fact, some of them look anticipatory.

Even the man standing next to Parakul, whom Pat had quickly noted as trigger-happy, has shifted his posture to lean on his back foot, lazy, confident, sure that his services won’t be needed even as anger tightens the rest of his face.

So maybe they’re a bit fucked.

“I wasn’t saying I’m scared,” Parakul murmurs, low and amused, almost sing-song. He holds Pat’s eyes, lips quirking, and fires his gun.

Pat doesn’t look over even as Korn lets out a muffled howl of pain, and neither does Parakul. Instead, he steps forward and lowers himself onto his haunches in front of Pat. “I was going to say that I don’t mind getting them dirty with someone like you, Napat.”

Pat stares back as impassively as he can. “Flattering,” he replies.

Parakul reaches out, tips Pat’s chin up with the end of his gun, the metal cool against his heated skin. He resists the urge to swallow, and Parakul tilts his head. 

“You’re right,” Parakul says slowly, baring his teeth in a mockery of a grin. “You should be flattered.”

He flicks the gun up, jarring Pat’s jaw, and then stands back up, turns to his men.

“Get this one to Louis, and I want Napat in my room,” he smiles at Pat while his men begin to bustle around him. “We have things to talk about.”

—

"I feel like your interrogation tactics need a bit of updating," Pat says, because Parakul has been leaning against his desk and watching him silently for what feels like the last ten minutes. Pat's knees hurt—the muscle had been unnecessarily forceful in getting him to kneel after they'd shoved him into the room. "What is this? Coercion by staring contest?"

Parakul's expression doesn't change as he tips his wrist to glance at his watch from the corner of his eye and then looks back at Pat. "Can't even last five minutes, huh?" he says mildly, and Pat suppresses the urge to let out an exasperated sigh, because it certainly doesn't feel like it's only been five minutes.

His knees really hurt. Also his wrists—they'd really wrenched his arms back while zip-tying him.

"I shouldn't be surprised," Parakul muses, pushing himself up to stand and walking behind his desk. He pulls open a drawer and takes something out. "Undisciplined, just like your father."

"You—" Pat blurts, cutting off when Parakul reveals the object in his hand to be an excessively sharp letter opener. It glints in the light and looks far too much like a dagger. "Cute," he scoffs, and Parakul raises a brow at him.

"I don't think you're in a position to make comments," he says, shutting the drawer again. Pat bites the inside of his lip, holding back his retort, because as much as he hates it, Parakul is right, and as much as people would say otherwise, he does have some sense of self-preservation.

"I guess you're lucky I have no interest in starting a war." Parakul tugs his gun out from his holster and lays it on the desk. Pat frowns at the move, but the reason for it becomes evident quickly. Parakul takes steps around him and slides the letter opener into the space between the zip tie and Pat's wrists, freeing Pat with a quick flick upward.

However, he keeps his hand wrapped around Pat's wrists, tipping close to whisper into his ears. "Try to be intelligent," Parakul says with a quick, firm squeeze, and all the condescension of someone who doesn't trust Pat to not do something wildly stupid, like attack Parakul while there are at least four armed guards outside the door, waiting for an excuse to put a hole in Pat.

Parakul lets go and straightens up to walk back to his desk, tucking his gun back into place. Pat shakes out his wrists but doesn't get up.

Instead, he watches Parakul warily, waiting for the other shoe to drop—there are lots of things that Parakul freeing him could mean, and Pat isn't quite sure that he likes any of them.

"Dissaya doesn't know I have you in custody," Parakul says, and Pat's eyes widen. "She will in a few hours, but I'm hoping to have you and your sidekick out of here before then. If you cooperate."

"What do you mean?" Pat asks carefully.

"I don't want a war," Parakul repeats, heavy with intention, and Pat waits a beat, searching his eyes. Parakul stares back, unyielding.

Pat blows out a sigh, because there's only one thing that Parakul would possibly risk snatching him off the street for without his mother's orders. "The new Prasertslip deal."

"I don't want a repeat of the last time," Parakul says. "And I know you don't, either."

"And how do you know that?" Pat asks, hackles rising, because Parakul's admittance of his assumption is edging dangerously close to something that Pat thought they'd put behind themselves, towards something he'd abandoned long ago in favor of throwing himself into working for his father to make up for his mistake. For his idealism.

Parakul swallows, shoulders slumping, and looks away.

"You told me," he whispers softly, and Pat digs his nails into his palms. When he meets Pat's eyes again, he bears an astonishing resemblance to the boy Pat used to love. "Pat, I didn't—"

"Don't call me that," Pat snaps, and Pra—Parakul flinches, mask sliding back into place, eyes going flat. "Don't—don't fucking—it's been years."

"Fine," Parakul replies, cold, hurt. Which is ridiculous, because if anyone has the right to feel betrayed, it's Pat. "I know that a bloodbath isn't in either of our interests, nor is Dissaya and Ming competing because they're blinded by pride."

"I don't think either of us want to take over an organization that's been gutted by their efforts to annihilate each other. That's how I know, and that's why—"

"—you really came back here after seven years and decided the first thing you were going to do was usurp your own mother," Pat scoffs. "I knew you were ruthless, but this is really—this is really something else."

"I'm not usurping her," Parakul hisses. "You know why—"

"I don't," Pat says, "Nor does it matter to me. You're right, we have common interests in stopping this, no matter your motivations."

He's being far ruder than he should be, unarmed in a room with Parakul, but that brief moment—that brief moment had managed to unravel seven years of defenses, revealing the gaping, unhealed gashes underneath, and it fucking hurts, has Pat lashing out like a wounded animal.

Parakul crosses his arms, mouth pursed. "So we're in agreement, then?"

"I guess we are," Pat replies. He rises to his feet and dusts off his pants before turning around and putting his hands behind his back. "Glad we've got that sorted. I'm going to leave before your mother comes and tries to put my head on a spike."

For a long moment, there's no sound of Parakul moving behind him, just the heavy weight of his gaze on Pat's neck, but Pat refuses to turn around, can already feel the way that his anger is cracking with hurt in ways that no one ever learned to recognize other than the man in this room with him.

Well, not this man—a version of him, sweeter, brighter-eyed, and gentle. Pat's temple throbs pointedly.

Finally, there's a rustle, and the feeling of air shifting as Parakul comes close and wraps a new zip tie around his wrists.

"We can meet at the usual place," he says as he tightens the cable, and Pat laughs, sharp and bitter, because he hasn't been back to that damn noodle stand since life stopped being rose-tinted.

Untitled Work 5 would have been the sequel to the K3G AU which is here, had I not gotten bogged down with trying to figure out whether I should set the entire story back twenty years or come up with a complicated explanation for why Paa didn’t just…look Pat up on Facebook. Anyway, this would’ve been the beginning of that.

it doesn’t take long for her to find a picture of  her brother, young and smiling, sweat spiking up his hair. Next to him stands P’Pran, elbow propped up on Hia’s shoulder. Paa purses her lips and passes her fingers over Hia’s bright grin.

There are other boys in the photo as well–one of them is P’Korn, hair thrown up in a ponytail like usual, with his arm slung around Pat, and two others who Paa vaguely recognizes as Hia’s friends (she could never keep their names straight). At P’Pran’s side, there’s a boy whose smile looks more like a smirk, ball at his hip, and two others, who aren’t in uniforms.

“Ah, youth,” comes a voice from behind her, and Paa’s hackles raise a bit as a man steps up next to her and points to the smirking boy. “I was so handsome then, wasn’t I?”

Paa hums, noncommittal, not quite registering what he’s saying in the face of her instinctual reaction to take a small step to the side. Then she freezes. “You were friends with P’Pran?” she asks. The man makes a face. “I am friends with Pran, how do you know him?” 

Paa opens her mouth to respond, but before she can, someone comes crashing through the double doors leading to the kitchen, and both Paa and the other man look up from the bartop. “Wai, I swear it does not take this long for you to—”

“P’Korn,” Paa gasps, staring at the face of her brother’s old best friend peeking over the bin of stacked glasses in his arms. His eyes widened upon seeing her.

“Paa?” Korn puts all of the plates down in a clatter and rushes around the counter to hug her and spin her around. “Are you even allowed in here?”

Ask me about my WIPs

#fai answers #ask games

[prettywordsyouleft]

shame on me, i saw this just now but thank you for the follow 😭

aha, i did think about howl's moving castle while reading! but i thought it was just me and my obsession with the story haha i'm glad to discover you're a fan as well.

now i'm definitely gonna check out all your stories for october, you got me all excited. your writing really is unique and, well, as a fellow fantasy lover, it suits my tastes.

i know how it feels to doubt your writing and constantly thinking about it. but hey, remember there's always at least one person out there who enjoys it and that maybe you unconsciously have saved someone's day by posting your work here, even if that person isn't giving any feedback (although feedback is recommended, for anyone reading this, pls feel encouraged to share your thoughts after reading something, even if it's a keyboard smash). i was personally kicking my feet while reading the Minho fic! and i predict that i'm gonna love the rest as well.

hope you're having a wonderful day/night 🙃

No worries, I'm also delayed in replying to this! Such is life.

Haha nope, Howl's Moving Castle is one of my all time favourite whimsical fantasy reads, so it's easy to say I'm influenced by it. Funnily enough, I'm hosting the buddy read of the final book in that series and I honestly don't grasp what the author was attempting in adding Castle in the Sky and House of Many Ways to the the first book. Yes, they all connect with references and cameo appearances, but it's like night and day in comparison. From here out, Howl's will simply be the only one I reread!

So far I have The Huntsman up on my blog, and will have Gatekeeper later this week, I've had to delay its posting until Sunday thanks to some unexpected changes to the schedule. The Secret Library was actually written first before I decided to interconnect all my stories this month, so I have to do a little tweaking but otherwise I'm so happy with my efforts thus far.

Thank you so much for your kind words again. I'm often so self-absorbed and thinking I can't do anything right or that I want to so it's nice to have reminders that I can and there are people who support what I do. I'm so grateful to you, and to everyone who still reads my stories.

#pwyl; answered #amazing mutuals #roci wolf

[twstmemories]

hi! i found your blog like yesterday and omg i love your writing!! could i please ask for headcannons of a super flustered, completely obvious ruggie, azul and jack having a crush on an oblivious reader? ♡ ♡

-- ! ahh thank you for liking what i have put out so far! i had a real fun writing these down too <3 imagining the twst boys with a crush when they've all confirmed that they're terrible in trying to profess anything regarding love was such a pleasant challenge (´ ω `♡) i hope these were to your liking!

✧ Azul Ashengrotto, Ruggie Bucchi & Jack Howl having a crush on an oblivious reader

✧ gn!reader

✧ … Well this will be an incredibly humbling experience for our favourite octopus-

✧ Please he is not used to his advances being ignored like this. This is the man that singehandedly managed to sweet talked his way through more than 200 students to signing a contract with him, and yet he can't let the one person he has a crush on, even be aware he has a crush on them?

✧ Someone please get him the giant pot, he's going to crawl in there for a few minutes to get rid of this embarassment. Jade and Floyd wouldn't be much of help since the whole situation will be highly amusing to them. They can clearly see how it's very obvious, and yet you seem to have no clue that his genuine sweet words to you are actually genuine.

✧ "If you're ever in need of assistance, please do not hesitate to ask me, I would be more than happy to assist you," he's saying this in the softest voice ever, and you just don't get it: "Thanks, Azul! There's nothing behind that declaration are there?" is how you'll answer with a laughter that makes his heart skip a beat but what you said just makes him sigh in defeat. Please forgive us Azul, but that's what you're known for (*_ _)人

✧ Please help him, he can't actually be genuine without you thinking he has an ulterior motive now. He's wracking his brain on how to actually let you be aware that he has the biggest crush on you and if you just as much asked he would turn the whole Octavinelle dorm over for you.

✧ And yet with every advance, every advice given after he reluctantly asks the Leech twins and everyone else, you still treat him like he's just a close friend. Keep this charade up long enough and he will just snap.

✧ And one day when you're once again visiting and he just feels himself get giddy he just stands up from his seat and slams his hands down the table in front of you. Face flushed and a stutter to his lips: "I- I've tried everything in my plans to convey these feelings to you, and yet you don't get it. Must I tell you directly that I like you so much before you start to see me in a different way?!" He's embarassed, almost don't want to look at you, but the gradual flush of your own face makes him realize that, oh. You did indeed need a direct confrotation before you understood (´꒳`)♡

✧ Perhaps the only one out of these 3 who wouldn't be so hung up on the fact you're as clueless a goldfish. In fact, he finds it quite adorable. This is a plea for help someone slap Ruggie so he can see how whipped he is.

✧ Finds it very amusing that you really can't tell that he's being extra nice, extra compliant with you, hangs around you more and stares at you and even telling you that you're so pretty he can't look away. And all he gets as a reply is an embarassed laugh and you asking when he began to compliment you so much. And Ruggie just has the most defeated look on his face when you once again don't seem to understand what he's implying. (⇀‸↼‶)

✧ Teases you a lot, but affectionately. It's in his nature after all. His pranks with you isn't as harmful as the other ones though (ノ*°▽°*) He will sometimes sit and "study" with you, but while you're writing, he will use his unique magic to lift the pen higher up in the air, and out of your reach. And when you tell him to give it back he just chuckles and tells you: "What will I get if I give it back then? A bit of attention perhaps?"

✧ You and Ruggie must have been friends for too long, he concludes. Because you don't seem to mind the sudden closeness, the sudden back hugs or the way Ruggie looks at you like you're the sun to his whole world. But everyone, god everyone else notices and god they just want you to get together. Leona mostly, because Ruggie won't shut up about how oblivious you are: "Then just tell them straight up if they can't catch a damn hint!" he grumbles.

✧ Ruggie panics at the very thought. Haha, he can for sure do that! But what if he ruins what you two have? What if you don't like him back? What if you don't accept his confession because of his background? Of course you won't, he knows but he can't help but think that, as painful as it is now with how you don't understand his feelings, it's far better than not being in your life at all. He spends a few days thinking about this, our poor Ruggie (╥_╥)

✧ But the moment you inquire him about why he's suddenly not the Ruggie you love so much, he's flushing red because of the word love. And he just decides to, well go for it. "Hmm, you tell me, [Name]. I've been here, trying for months to get you to realize how much I like you, and yet you don't seem to say anything ~ It makes me quite sad you know?" he says, a teasing, yet nervous tone to his voice. But when he sees the way you tense up and start to turn red, he knows it's going to be fine (*˘︶˘*).｡.:*♡

✧ Someone help him, the second part. We all know how Jack is. Acts like he doesn't care, comes up with a pleasant excuse as to why he wants to help a friend in need and all. Now imagine that attitude with a crush? (｡T ω T｡) He's almost friendzoning himself while trying to admit his growing feelings for you because he has to come up with an excuse as to why he wants to be around you.

✧ He happened to also want to study a bit, he is a bit intelligent after all, but it wouldn't hurt to study a bit more with you! He happens to have bought a bit too much food, and he also noticed you don't eat a lot, so have a bit from him as well, he can't have you collapsing after all ლ(¯ロ¯"ლ) Jack sweetie please just say you care about them

✧ Also doesn't undestand why you don't seem to answer to his advances, but that's also because he is quite frankly, terrible at conveying them! If you're already oblivious, this won't help because you would just see this as his usual behavior ヾ(`ヘ´)ﾉﾞ

✧ It will quite literally take a third party to comment on how obvious he is, but how bad he is at actually trying to tell you he likes you before he realizes. And that someone is most likely Ace. Dude has no filter, he will straight up massacare Jack with words on his terrible way of trying to court someone. Your bluntness this time Ace is much appreciated ⊂(￣▽￣)⊃

✧ Wolf people in twst wonderland follows the same principle as actual wolves, where they find a faithful mate they want to be with for eternity. With how Jack is acting towards you it's like he finally found his own mate he can be happy with. Now if only he could say those sweet words to you without immediately butchering it.

✧ But don't worry, his fellow first years will help him out, without him asking they just feel terribly embarassed on both for both of you because they can obviously see the chemistry, but one is too oblivious while the other acts like he doesn't like you when he's ready to give you the whole world.

✧ "Heya, [Name]! Did you know Jack likes-" and Ace is promptly thrown away by said wolf, face beet red while yelling at him: "Okay I get it! But at least let me confess myself!" and you're just blinking because did Jack just say the world confess? Like confessing his love, to you? While he knows how important that is for him in regards of how faithful he will be to you if you decide to accept them?

✧ Jack will look at you, face flushed red and scratch his head, glancing away: "Judging by how red you are, you already know what I'll say. Seriously, you really need to have it spelled out for you, don't you? But I like you, more than a friend. I have for a long time now..." And he's trailing off, almost refusing to look at you out of pure embarassment and the excited yells from his fellow friends who got to witness the whole scene. Now will you accept his confession? ♡(｡- ω -)

#twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland imagines #twst x reader #twst headcanons #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul ashengrotto headcanons #ruggie bucchi x reader #ruggie bucchi headcanons #jack howl x reader #jack howl headcanons #not proofread #embarassed and flustered twst wonderland boys yes please i'll gobble them up #not tumblr screwing over some of the headcanons- #hopefully it’s fixed now 😭

[emyluwinter]

Small thoughts.

Hello, my dear. How are you?In my country, November 4 is a few extra days off, and it means that I can finally take a break from work. Oh, I'm so tired..

but I want to write something big and very good, but my strength is so little that I barely have enough for small household chores.

I hope you're doing well. Don't forget to eat well and drink water! If you need to drink medicines, do not forget about them!

So..... little thoughts or ideas about Prefect. Purely my inventions.

All first-year, more accurately moms know Yuu. This often happened by accident, but for the most part the boys talked about their lives and mentioned the non-magical Prefect who had become a part of their lives.

Mrs. Spade was one of the first to meet them because she often calls on the phone with her beloved son.

Ace, Grimm and Yuu are used to always shouting "Hello Mrs. Spade!!" in the background. when Deuce answers her call.

Her heart melted when Deuce was on a sleepover in Onboro and Yuu brought tea for him to warm up. They, along with Ace and Grimm, were preparing for one of the alchemy tests.

She is reassured that Deuce is trying his best and he is surrounded by such diligent and attentive people. In particular, Mrs. Spade noticed how the Prefect finds solutions in various disputes. And is essentially the "Senior" for Ace and Deuce.

In addition, becoming a Prefect on the first day of school definitely deserves attention and respect.

Her beloved son has grown into a good young man.

Ace's mom doesn't call so often, but for the most part his older brother communicates with him.

A few awkward jokes from Brother Ace - "Are

this red-haired scoundrel in love with the Prefect ~?'

Poor Ace can't look at the Prefect for the next three hours.

Deuce and Yuu will never know about this question.

Ace's older brother, though he does not speak out loud, is glad that he has an "Anchor" in the form of a Prefect who keeps them from all the problems that Ace can create.

Something like a more material kind of "conscience".

Once he persuaded Ace to put the call on speakerphone and there was a special message for Yuu.

"My little brother can be a pain in the ass. But he's a good guy, and I see how you, the Prefect of Onboro, see through all the hearts and literally hold them in your palms. Take good care of him, okay?~"

Ace was so embarrassed that he couldn't say a word to Yuu for at least another hour.

Mrs. Howl.

She was very happy to find out that her "eldest son is a lone wolf with a high sense of justice" made friends.

No matter how much Jack denies it.

When she found out that Yuu didn't have warm clothes. (Jack mentioned that they got their uniforms from former students. And the fact that Crowley doesn't really care about Yuu and Grimm. For the most part, it was done by ghosts. )

Without further ado, she sent old winter clothes that were no longer worn at home.

Yuu were shocked to see at least 6 boxes of warm clothes for autumn and winter, of different sizes, early in the morning on a weekend.

Mrs. Howl very delicately and cautiously hinted to Jack that it was good to take an example from Ruggie and Leona. But it would also be great if Jack talked more with Yuu. Thus, different points of view and different thinking can be useful for Jack.

In addition, her subtle instinct told her that in this way Jack would gain something important for himself. "Flock", even if it is small.

Mrs. Felmer.

A charming woman who loves Epel very much. And during the VDC camp, the boys often called their families.

She was very surprised that a non-magical person became a Prefect and can manage an entire building alone!

Her heart melts when Epel starts chirping like a bird about all the affairs and events that happened during the day.

In her opinion, Yuu are very thin, so now Yuu gets one box with different varieties of apples every few months.

She saw how Yuu helps Epel "accept himself" and how subtly and carefully they support her beloved son.

She was worried that Epel had ended up in the wrong dorm that he had dreamed of so much. But now she sees that Epel is surrounded by very good people.

Grandma Epel is very persuading her grandson to bring his friends to some holiday or vacation. ~

Mrs. Zigvolnt.

She was already used to long stories about the "Great Young Master". But even though she is busy, she tries to call her cute little "croc" more often.

She has a condition that first Sebek talks about himself, his day and well-being, events that were interesting. And then about everything else. By the rest, we mean at least a forty-minute presentation about Malleus.

She couldn't help but joke when first heard about Yuu.

Is her cute boy following in her footsteps?~

Sebek was so confused and confused that his voice began to break badly and he could not connect two words.

Yuu wondered why Sebek suddenly avoided them for two hours after that call. ...

Lilia found out about this conversation and couldn't stop laughing for 15 minutes.

When she found out that this "brave little man" was not afraid of the Dragon himself, she had to call Lilia and find out if they were all right.

+ Bonus !!

You know, I thought that the ghosts from the NRC could be the unspoken "guardians" for Yuu.

Because there are three ghosts living in Onboro who CLEARLY care about Grimm and Yuu.

To Yuu arranged a separate room for them. Where they can gather with other ghosts, play board games, listen to music on an old receiver, or otherwise spend their leisure and recreation.

All three ghosts burst into tears from this care and kindness.

Now ghosts FROM ALL OVER THE COLLEGE are coming to Onboro. But Yuu doesn't mind at all.

As long as they don't break the rule of not scaring them and Grimm and don't break things in the dorm, and let them sleep peacefully at night.

Some ghosts bring "gifts" or souvenirs for Yuu and Grimm. Sometimes these are cute trinkets, products, or strange things from nowhere.

Yuu had to sell a few things to Mr. Sam because they were cursed.

Azul almost choked on his own ink when he saw Yuu's antique charm bracelet that cost like the whole island. The bracelet was supposed to "ward off" dark and forbidden magic from the wearer.

Vil was the quickest to notice Yuu's vintage grooming kits.

He will never say, but he brutally wants this elegant beautiful case for a cosmetic bag. BUT THEY ARE NOT EVEN MADE TO ORDER BECAUSE THE DRAWING WAS DESTROYED!!

Where did this thing come from the Prefect?!?

Floyd was very interested to take a closer look at a multifunctional antique knife of no less age than some respected Merfolk.

Scissors?A bottle opener? A small knife?? A Small Magnifying Glass?!?A nail sharpener?A phillips screwdriver?? And all this in one subject???

There have never been such things where he comes from!

Now he and Jade are looking for the same one.

When Idia saw a small board game that is older than Trein. Idia literally screamed and scared everyone.

That day, Yuu hosted a game night with Idia and Ortho.

#disney twst #twst deuce #twst wonderland #twst #twst mc #twst yuu #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst reader #twst ace #ace trappola #ace twst #deuce spade #twisted wonderland deuce #twst epel #epel twst #twisted wonderland epel #epel felmier #jack howl #twst jack #twst sebek #sebek zigvolt #azul twst #twst azul #azul twisted wonderland #twst vil #vil schoenheit #twst floyd #twisted wonderland idia

[boop-le-snoot]

@buckyownsmylife hey babe! Remember that one time you threw that cool challenge? Here's my entry. Prepare to get absolutely ruined because daddy!Bruce is exactly that sort of man.

main masterlist ☀️ taglist

emotional support nerd

Your best friend's dad, Dr. Bruce Banner, is hotter than you thought he would be. 6k words, NSFW. Kind of Alt!Reader - she refers to herself as 'goth' in one instance. Tony Stark makes an appearance because God forbid I write a fanfic without him in it.

This is filthy pron, ft. age difference (reader is college aged) daddy kink, throat fucking, dirty talk, praise kink, cream pie, possessiveness, belly bulge and ending with a hint at a threesome. I really crammed all I could from Eyre's wheel in here, didn't I. Oh well.

"How much longer, dad?" Lyra's annoyed voice struck a chord within me. I tried to hide my snickering - unsuccessfully might I add - causing my best friend to shoot me a hurt look, equally fed up with me as she was fed up with her forgetful adopted father. "You know what, we'll take the subway."

Lyra's father's voice, both agitated and apologetic, reached my ears in bitten-off phrases as the traffic noises around us grew in volume, NYC rush hour rapidly approaching its peak.

With a sound huff, Lyra removed the phone from her ear, staring me down with the most amount of petulance I've ever seen on her usually reserved, placid face. "It's twenty more minutes. Apparently he's driving Tony's car," she offered in the way of explanation, like it actually did anything to better the cold, wet situation we found ourselves in. "Please, and I can't stress this enough, please don't be weird."

I felt a flood of amusement at Lyra's pleading tone. "Darling, if you wanted a normal friend, you should have looked elsewhere," I gestured to my outfit. I looked like a goth boy's wet dream: chunky platformed boots, fishnets, heavy eyeliner. Of course, all in black.

"You know what I mean," she whined, waving off my pointing hand and fixing me with a hard stare. "The least my dad needs is someone that is terrified of him just because sometimes he turns into a big green monkey. It's not as exciting as internet thinks, anyway," the last part of the sentence was mumbled but I heard it nonetheless as Lyra stared out into the traffic, clever eyes looking for a particular car model.

What Lyra didn't know was that I was not at all considering to be terrified by the man who dosed himself with radiation and developed an advanced version of split personality disorder. I could be intimidated by him, sure, because he was incredibly intelligent, a world class scientist with more PhDs than I had zeroes in my bank account, but even despite his green problem, Dr. Bruce Banner was about as far away from 'scary' as a man could be.

The few scarce pictures of him on the internet showed a short, stocky man with kind eyes and salt-and-pepper curls, always dressed in un-ironed, crumpled button-ups with dorky patterns. Looking at him, I mused that there was a high chance he spoke with a stutter and that fact amused me to no end. Jekyll and Hyde, alright.

Lyra was much the same way. Shy and reclusive, with curly brown hair and doe eyes, she spent a good chunk of her first semester in college being avoided by everybody because of her last name; I, on the other hand, avoided everyone out of habit, I'd never been a social butterfly, but the way people subtly made sure to exclude Lyra from all the activities filled me with quiet, seething rage, and I stepped over my general distaste of people and removed my bag from the seat next to me so Lyra could at least study in relative peace.

Yeah, yeah, you've heard it all, I'm sure. Weird goth chick adopts a socially awkward, shunned nerd and they become best friends forever. I had to admit that under the shy exterior, Lyra was smart, witty and even funny sometimes. She was willing to entertain my crude jokes without moaning, at least, and I was perfectly okay with listening to her rant about science every now and then.

Rain banged on the slanted roof of the café we were hiding in, the autumn wind howled, making both of us shiver at the prospect of having to go outside, even if it was for a short moment to run to Lyra's dad's car. The day had started out warm and sunny, but much like a badly calculated chemical formula, it all went downhill a split second after we had set out to leave campus.

"There he is," the grouch in Lyra's expression had me once again unsuccessfully attempting to conceal my snorting.

Nonetheless, I followed her out into the rain, struggling to keep up with the brisk running in my platformed shoes, unceremoniously crawling into the car behind her without sparing a glance at the driver in my eagerness to get out of the freezing downpour.

"Hi, dad," Lyra's tired voice spoke up at the same time as I angrily shook out my hair.

"I've just about McFuckin' had it with New York," I was afraid the dye in my hair would bleed out into my clothes, or even worse, the nice, cream-colored car seats.

"Hello, ladies," the voice that greeted us was low, gravelly and apologetic to boot.

My eyes shot up, meeting an expression full of surprise and amusement. I stared at the shockingly handsome face of Dr. Bruce Banner like a deer in the headlights.

The fine mimic wrinkles had stretched into a resemblance of a smile, soft, plush lips revealing a set of straight, white teeth. The five o'clock shadow framed his jaw, giving it a sharp, defined edge, his clever brown eyes slid down my form, faltering on the pentagram on my belt and my fishnet-covered legs, settling on my chunky boots before hastily snapping back up to my face.

"Dad, this is..." Lyra's voice was full of suspicious bewilderment as she attempted to dissipate the sudden awkwardness.

"Oh, yeah, I'm Dr. Bruce Banner, but you can call me Doc or Bruce," he cleared his throat, turning himself towards the windshield and starting up the car.

"Nice to meet you," I busied myself with putting away any stray hair just to occupy myself with something during the time I needed to recuperate from being just... Looked at by Lyra's dad.

It sounds ridiculous, I know, but I was so taken aback by his handsomeness and his aura of a gentle but powerful man that the ride to Stark tower, however swift, went on in slightly awkward silence. The streets outside were, thankfully, noisy, and the lack of an attempt to have a conversation could easily be attributed to Bruce's need to focus on the road, but Lyra's increasingly concerned looks did very little to settle the sudden racing of my heart.

"C'mon, I'll give you some sweats so you can let your..." Lyra's vague gesture towards my upper body disappeared behind her side of the door. "Hey, Tony," she suddenly interrupted her sentence, very obviously addressing another person who I managed to miss as Bruce parked in the spacious garage.

"I've been told you're finally bringing your friend, Green Pea," a voice I'd heard a thousand times on the TV poked fun at Lyra.

She bent down to retrieve her bag, shooting big eyes at me and mouthing an exaggerated "Sorry!"

Tony Stark looked about a week in debt on sleep, a contrast to the way he usually appeared in public. The exaggerated eyebrow raise made me shuffle awkwardly in my spot; the Led Zep tee caught my eyes as I lingered on it, aware of my own Mötorhead top on display. He noticed it too, causing his face leave the snide territory.

"Wow, I didn't expect kids these days to have any resemblance of taste in music but you've surprised me, Corpse Bride," he gave me a quiet wolf-whistle, watching me through lidded eyes.

I felt my eyebrow crawl upwards at his attitude but Bruce spoke up before I could say anything: "Tony, no," so firmly, I had to raise both of my eyebrows. I felt a smile tug at my lips, the situation strikingly familiar in it's essence. Like father, like daughter...

"No," Lyra's identical expression, fond and annoyed, topped up with an accusing finger pointed in my direction had everyone snorting a giggle at the situation.

"Lyra," I whined, just so I could coax her grin that she was very obviously trying to conceal. "See, I told you, every crazy genius needs their emotional support nerd," I fixed her with a pointed look.

She promptly grabbed me by the arm, leading all of us to the elevator as the two men behind us shared a hearty laugh at my well-timed joke. It was either that or I would have completely embarrassed myself by gaping and drooling over both THE Tony Stark and Lyra's father.

The rush didn't stop there. I was promptly and generously offered not only a spare pair of pants but also a whole room to stay in after an invitation to dinner I simply could not refuse. Dr. Banner firmly coaxed me into staying overnight with his pleading eyes and a hearty seasoning of guilt tripping, softly crooning how he simply could not let a young woman to wander the cold, rainy night in NYC alone.

Tony added something too, in a tone way too surefire and patronising. I guessed he noticed my eyes lingering on Dr. Banner, being a genius and all.

In a short amount of time, I found myself seated at a dinner table next to a happy, giggling Lyra who'd downed a glass of wine and was well into her second. I found it adorable how much of a lightweight she was; not hesitating in the slightest to point out that fact when she made hands for a pitcher of water.

Tony was the first one to snark back something vague about his college days and all the wild parties he used to throw, booing Bruce upon discovery that he, in fact, actually studied in college in favour of partaking in various illicit activities. That had both me and Tony giggling with Lyra promptly joining in, both of us losing it over the running joke or her being either a test tube baby or the result of immaculate conception.

Bruce's face blushed scarlet. He sputtered, a few stray drops of his lemonade landing on the (ironed!) collar of his purple shirt, cough disappearing in the wake of Tony's truly amused cackling. Dr. Banner was well on his way to either choke on his Lo Mein or turn green; thinking quickly, I decided to defuse a situation by sharing a harmless, funny story that happened to me as a freshman.

"I went on a date with this guy who said that music was the most important thing in his life, and I thought, wow, that's so beautiful!" I began my story over Lyra's incessant snickering. "So we had dinner and went back to his place because I'm a whore," the whole table erupted in laughter at my deadpan remark, Tony reaching over to give me a high five.

"And as we got there, he put on one of his demos which was just a bunch of sampled and remixed Guns'n'Roses songs, and I thought wow, that's gotta be one of the worst things I've ever heard," I pointedly looked away as Lyra's cackling grew in volume, having heard the same story several times by now and the outrage I expressed at the situation first hand.

"But instead of that I said, wow, that's so cool! Then we did the thing and his whole bedroom was covered in Axl Rose posters and I'm sure at some point Mr. Rose stared right up my asshole," there were tears streaming down Lyra's face as Tony flopped his upper body onto the table and Bruce convulsed helplessly in a silent fit of giggles. "And then I thought to myself: wow, I would have to pretend to like his music if I dated this guy and I just couldn't do that..." I breathed out, succumbing to the mirth at the dinner table. "It was good but not November Rain good, y'kno?"

Bruce snorted loudly, sliding down his chair with a hand over his face. The table shook with the force of Tony's cackling; I didn't see his expression but the howling, rasping noises sent me into another fit of laughter, right on par with Lyra.

"Is this..." Tony rapidly inhaled the much-needed oxygen. "Is this why you keep wincing whenever I play the 'Roses in the lab?" Tony wheezed and Lyra nodded.

"I just... I can picture it, and I-" she made a vague, encompassing gesture and a face.

"Please, don't," I urged with a snort. "There are better ways to get disappointed."

Dinner went on by smoothly after that, everybody happily making remarks on my dating fail, the topic of Lyra's birth and Tony's college shenanigans dismissed.

I caught Dr. Banner's pointed look as we finished our dessert - he was studying me, eyes searching for something that he very obviously wished was there. From the damp roots of my hair to the soft, cotton top clinging to my chest, I wasn't left unscrutinzed and unexamined. Like one of the many specimens he studied on a daily basis, Bruce lingered on the many characteristics that made me stand out in the grey crowd.

"Would you like to see the labs?" He asked, appearing behind me without a single sound.

The freshly cleaned dishes clattered in my arms. I'd almost dropped them, startled, but Bruce's hand landed on the top of the stack right before the top plate would have slipped off and shattered into pieces on the cold tile of his kitchen.

Blood rushed to my ears. "I'd love to," my brain had briefly returned to reality, the rush of meeting both Stark and Banner succumbing to logic and reason. My and his fields of study briefly overlapped, the question he posed was more than reasonable. In fact, many people would cheat, lie and steal to be in my position.

Bruce smiled, opening a cabinet and taking half of the dishes I was holding to stack them up in their proper place. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing wide, muscular forearms littered with dark, coarse hair.

I was sure my face was flaming. After waving off Lyra's attempts to put shoes on me and leaving her to watch her TV show, a wide, warm palm rested on the back of my waist, gently steering me towards the elevator.

I tried to keep my eyes off Bruce in the large mirror on the walls of the car as it swiftly moved down, scrutinizing my appearance instead. My throat bobbed, the elevator car suddenly too small and too hot.

His eyes left marks on me - invisible ones, the kind that I knew were there just from the scorching heat sizzling on my skin.

There was a certain je ne sais quoi about him. Perhaps, it was in the way he was acting - a polar opposite of what I'd had expected, Dr. Bruce Banner possessed a quiet confidence and his patience appeared to be endless, heartily doused with an appreciation for his closest ones. The way his eyes lit up in response to people smiling around the dinner table was hard to miss.

When Bruce spoke about his research - whatever wasn't classified, anyway - the spark expanded into a mischievous fire. I could hardly understand the nuances in his work, scratch that- I could not understand a single word he was saying, at all. The individual syllables registered as they should, but my traitorous brain could only focus on the way he licked his lips in between quickly inhaled breaths.

"You're not... Following, are you?" The corner of his mouth lifted upwards, clever brown eyes fixed on my face.

God, I hoped I wasn't drooling. But to deny the obvious would have been a stretch. "No, not really," I swallowed, willing my eyes to lift from the large veins on the hand that was pointing at a set of equations. Reasonably good at math any day, they looked like the scribbles of a madman to me at the time.

Dr. Banner sighed, letting silence creep among the whirring machinery in the lab for a brief moment. "I don't scare you?" He removed his glasses, cleaning them with the corner of his shirt.

The question reeked of self-doubt and, perhaps, insecurity. "No," I answered simply, not giving him the slightest chance to find doubt in my words. I was barely holding my voice from shaking, afraid he'd misunderstand my reaction to the sudden change in atmosphere.

He was closer to me than I recalled. My hip was almost brushing his, the bulk of his shoulder millimeters from touching against my bare skin, the smell of something herbal, like tea, and sharp chemicals clouding my senses. It was such a contrasting experience.

Bruce turned to me, an expression between hunger and regret forcing me to shiver and look him straight in the eye. A hand landed on my waist, holding me in place with gentle firmness. "I'm a monster, I could hurt you," he whispered, leaning into me like a touch starved kitten. The man screamed contradiction. "We shouldn't."

Vivid images of the Hulk and the rampages years prior flashed through my mind; the rubble, the collateral damage in the form of many lives. I barely remembered it, having been too little to really understand what was going on. One thing, though, I knew for sure: ever since the world became aware of Lyra's existence, there had been no incidents. Sure, the Hulk still appeared when there was a threat, but there were no documented incidents of the green creature running amok, accidentally.

"You won't hurt me," I spoke with conviction. Perhaps, I was bluffing just slightly but I wouldn't lie like that to myself. The variable, the... Twelve or so percent chance of things going... Awry, it made a small, malicious worm inside of me rejoice and fill my limbs with familiar adrenalised yearning. "You're not a monster. Far from it, actually," I used the hand that was not supporting me against the desk to gently cradle the side of his face, letting my fingertips brush over the rough five o'clock shadow on his cheek.

Bruce emitted a sound somewhere between an agitated grown and a pleading whine, sagging with the sound exhale, pressing himself flush with my chest. His face slipped from my palm, the warm tip of his nose running a steady line up my neck, sending goosebumps running wildly down my back as his hot breath tickled the arch of my throat.

"Baby," the nickname punched a stuttered gasp out of me with the intensity contained in just that one word. "I've been hearing all these amazing things about you," his voice dropped, low baritone rumbling straight into my ear. "I won't be able to hold back. I'll want you all to myself," his bicep flexed under my hand.

My knees would have bucked if I wasn't grasping onto Bruce for dear life after those words. I had some sense of personal pride in me, so while my body was an easy, traitorous thing, my mind was more than eager to participate in this game, to ping pong a little bit before... "Yeah? What things?" I breathed.

Teeth briefly closed around my tender skin, nipping for just a second. "You're kind, beautiful," his hand took a steadfast hold on the back of my neck, exposing my throat to his mouth. More skin to mark, more time to whisper. "Intelligent, bright and clever," the more he spoke, the fiercer he became. Bruce's grasp tightened until I was pliant in it, willingly following his silent commands. "A bit of a pain in the ass," a healthy dose of humour was added into the mix as my ass was roughly grabbed, our fronts pressed together at his insistence.

"That sounds about right," I didn't resist the sudden urge to snark, thoughts lazily floating in my head, like clouds on a bright sunny day, fleeting and sparse. None of them caught on. I was focused on feeling the need, on my need to feel.

A sharp smack landed on the plump of my ass, the sound resonating in the eerily quiet lab. The sounds of machinery had dulled at some point, leaving just the two of us panting our lust into each other's space. "I know you can be a good girl. Will you, princess?" His fingertips dug into my flesh, surpassing the soft sweatpants as if they weren't even there.

I could only nod, dumbly, overcome by the sudden rush of blood to my body. The life coarsing through me sang, demanding a release of the pent-up tension.

"What's that?" Bruce removed himself from my neck, catching my unfocused eyes with a crooked smirk on his lips.

"Yes," I swallowed, breathing through my mouth.

"Mmm," he hummed, running both hands over my sides, over the frayed edges of my Mötorhead top. He admired it, briefly, setting his eyes on the band logo that was right over my breasts. Having decided something to himself, Bruce promptly removed it, lifting it over my head with ease and leaving it right on the science lab table.

Taking hold of my hand, he walked over to a hidden set of sliding doors that revealed a rather large, frequently used bed, shutting them just as I walked in, wearing only my bra and borrowed sweats. My back was pressed to the door in mere seconds, hot palms chasing away the chill of the lab as Bruce slotted his lips over mine.

He tasted like something I've never had before. His lips - so plush and supple, took hold of the kiss with practiced gusto, sucking me in without a chance or the desire to escape. I drank from him, sucked on the bottom lip as his tongue explored my mouth, danced with mine.

The room was spinning, the ringing in my ears growing in volume. I was only partly aware of the sensation of sliding down the wall; our knees thudded on the carpeted floor simultaneously, heavy breathing the only noise I could distinguish.

"Breathe, baby, that's it," Bruce coaxed, gently stroking my nape. The soft cotton of his shirt crumpled under my fingers where I held onto him, desperately searching something to ground myself with.

The buckle of his belt clattered and then clinked again as he wrapped the worn leather around my wrists, bringing them together in front of my chest. I exhaled sharply at the intimate gesture, a whine bubbling up from my chest when Bruce used a single fingertip to raise my chin.

My eyes met his; a brown iris tinged with the faintest of green around the outer edge. "This okay, princess?" He sought my face for confirmation, for agreement, for anything.

I nodded, stuttering mid-gesture, remembering our previous interaction. My mouth did not want to cooperate but I forced it to, even if it came out as little more than a pitiful mewl. "Yes, daddy," the word, sweet and sticky like fruit syrup, poured from my lips.

My eyes slid shut as my conscience - or was it common sense? - took hold of the situation. I was on my knees in front of my best friends dad, a virtual stranger, and I'd just-

Bruce's soft chuckle stopped the negative spiral of my thoughts. "That's my girl," he sounded a tad more breathless now, a hairliner in his perfect façade of self-control. As if he'd sensed my indecisiveness, he tugged on the makeshift restraints, pulling me closer, closer and into his lap.

A warm, solid chest with a healthy amount of fluff greeted me. Bruce let my lax, pliant body fall into his arms, catching me effortlessly and bringing my face to his lips. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, you're my good girl," he peppered soft kisses all over my flaming cheeks, my twitching nose, my fluttering lashes.

"Please," I begged, shame giving way to the flood of arousal that seemingly hit me all at once. I was aware of the dampness collecting in my panties, the stiffness of my limbs from holding back the ravenous desire to paw at Bruce like a wild animal. "Please, daddy..."

"I know, I know, baby girl," he soothed, not stopping his tender assault on my face. "Daddy will make it all better. I know just what you need," Bruce finally pulled away. I heard the sound of him undoing his zipper and then the awkward shuffle of him shucking off his pants.

Somewhere in between of all that, he'd ended up sitting down on the bed, wearing only his boxers, his shirt hanging open. The red crawled down his chest, partially masked by the coarse salt and pepper hair; his lips were cherry red and his hair was sticking out in odd directions. Bruce looked sinful.

My eyes inadvertently landed on the impressive bulge in his boxers; in response to my widened eyes, he reached out for it, stroking the outline of his thick cock through his boxers. "Like what you see, baby?"

"Yeah," My mouth watered.

"Baby wants a fat cock?" He teased, sounding like he knew exactly what he was doing, testing my self-control like that. With a flick of his wrist, it sprang free, slapping against his tummy, coating the fine hairs with drops of clear, musky fluid.

I swallowed, feeling the taste of him from afar and yearning for more where I was parked between his spread legs.

In a gesture almost loving, he tugged on the belt still wrapped around my wrists, bringing my face to his leaking shaft and my hands to the base of it, letting me feel the weight of his balls in them. The cock throbbed, neglected, weighed down by the heaviness of his full balls.

"Go ahead, baby, suck my cock," the encouragement came with a gentle push to my head.

I obediently followed, wrapping my lips around the pink, moist crown of it, a hum beginning in the back of my throat. My God, Bruce tasted heavenly... I whirled and slipped my tongue a around his head, I dipped into the slit to drink the nectar right from the tap, idly coming to awareness of the broken, choked moans coming from the man above me.

Raising my head got me a view of his chin; head thrown back, the lax O of his mouth glistened in the meager light. My eyes slid lower, to the flex of his abs. Bruce fought hard to stay still. The desire consumed me, a sudden rush of power at having Dr. Bruce Banner's cock in my mouth and the man at my mercy; I inhaled, sliding my mouth further and further down his throbbing length.

"Fuck," I heard him mutter before his hands gripped the sides of my face. "Hungry, baby, are you?" His eyes glowed a faint green; I shuddered at the power he held within himself. Held back for me. "Tap my thigh twice," he spoke and I had no choice but to obey. "Okay. Do that if it gets too much, alright?" I nodded. He gave me a wide, beaming smile. "Good girl," he praised, experimentally bucking his hips into my mouth a few times.

In and out. I focused on my breathing, sharp, little inhales: his girth took up all the free space in my mouth, the tip of it barely fit into my throat. The burn, the stretch; I felt every tenth of an inch, every bulging attempt of my body to accommodate Bruce's huge cock. It was delicious, I couldn't help but crave the same stretch in my neglected, sopping wet pussy.

"Fuck, you're taking it so well," Bruce moaned wetly. "Your mouth... S'like heaven... Could fuck it all day, that's my good girl," the rambling increased in it's intensity as the pace of his hips hastened. Drool and tears flowed like a river; my chin was dropping with it, spit connected my face to his pelvis. "Oh," there was a brief pause to his movements; suddenly, he pulled out, fisting the base of his cock, staring me down with a ferocious gleem in his eye.

I must've looked a straight mess; my face like a crime scene, my clothes disheveled, covered in fluids and most of all - I was desperately grinding against my own feet, too focused on the glorious cock in front of me to notice the weakness of my own flesh. "Daddy?" I questioned, wincing at the grating of my own voice.

Without a word, the belt was tugged once more; in a set of movements just slightly north of acrobatic, I found myself laying on my back in the middle of the bed, my sweatpants suffering a haste demise in the corner of the room.

Bruce crawled atop me, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses on every inch of my skin he could reach, mouthing something inaudible into every pore of my body. As he drew closer, I discerned bitten-off phrases, stringing my desire into sticky, tangy mess at the apex of my thighs.

"My perfect baby girl," the words reached me; all tongue, he kissed me once more, arching into me as much as I arched into his hot grasp. A brief inspection of my face - he was satisfied with what he saw - and Bruce crawled back, settling in between my spread legs, breathing hot air on the lips of my sex still covered by a sopping wet piece of fabric.

"Oh fuck," I yelped, feeling him smooch it soundly, the hot wetness of his tongue penetrating the meagre lace barrier with ease.

He moved it aside anyway, with a single finger, giving my pussy a broad lick, moaning into my cunt like a man gone mad. It took a few more licks for him to feel sated enough to surface, all the while holding my hips down. I was so sensitive, I felt even the tiniest flicks to my clit, I was sure if I didn't cum then and there, I would explode.

"Such a pretty pussy, princess," his heavy breathing paused briefly. He nipped my thigh. "So wet, is that all for me?"

"Yes, yes, daddy," I rasped, pushing my cunt into his face, losing all shame and trepidation.

"So tasty," he continued the torture, outlining my lower lips before taking another nosedive right into it, swirling his tongue around every fold, sucking onto my clit.

Bruce ate my pussy until my thighs shook, until my core quivered and I could no longer hold back the choked, ragged screams starting somewhere in the low of my belly and coming out as unholy, all-consuming yowls filled with unadulterated lust.

"Louder for me, baby," he inhaled rapidly, and then, he sucked on my clit.

The world stopped, halted on it's axis, every muscle going rigid in my body and every nerve ending simultaneously coming alive. Faintly, I heard a chant, repeating two syllables over and over, it sounded like my voice - but I had no control over myself. All I could do was weakly grind my hips against Bruce's mouth, faltering when the crashing waves of my orgasm began to recede.

The infuriating overstimulation stopped; blinking hazily, I saw Bruce's eyes glimmer brown and green in front of my face. His nose and his chin was glistening with a thin coat of sticky fluid; disheveled and red, he looked a man on the verge of a revelation.

Something hot and blunt nosed at my cunt, bringing back the moment to me - I realized, with a great deal of impatience - how empty I felt. The decision was minute. "Daddy, fuck me, please, I want your cock," the words came easily.

"That's my girl," his eyes fluttered shut as the first inches squeezed through the snug of my cunt. I was sopping wet and as relaxed as I'd be, but even then, it was a stretch. "Good girl, good baby," the mumbled praise made me whine and my pussy clamp on his cock. "Relax, let daddy fill you up." Breathing through it, I consciously unwound myself around him, letting my palms rest freely on his shoulders. "Let daddy take care of you."

Like melted sugar, his husked words stuck to me inside and out. Short, sharp thrusts; Bruce was patiently burrowing himself inside of me, making his way to reach the deepest parts of me I didn't even know existed. His cock head pressed against something hard and spongy inside of me; stars burst behind my eyes I'd clamped shut on reflex.

I moaned weakly, tugging on his arm, pressing myself closer. It felt so, so good. Like a raw nerve had been exposed and he was stroking it, pushing that little switch with every stroke of his hips.

"I'm not gonna last," he muttered as once again, my cunt squeezed him snugly in place, just as greedy as I was to feel that tiny explosion spark up within me again.

"I want..." I panted. Bruce set in a punishing pace after that, a palm under my ass, squeezing it so hard there would definitely be bruising. I craved it, I needed to see the evidence this was not some elaborate fever dream. "I want... Daddy to fill me up," words came out garbled; it sounded like gibberish to my ears but Bruce - they spurred him on.

"Oh yeah?" That breathless, boyish cockiness was back in his voice again; despite how fucked out he sounded, I prepared myself for something truly out of this world. I just knew.

He sat back on his shins, dragging me by the hips with him, making me shiver and moan and twitch and clamp onto him again as his throbbing cock hit that special spot again. And again. And again.

"Look at me, baby," a hand on my belly and his eyes burning right through me. As they slid down, towards the apex of my thighs where he was still moving within me almost lazily, I saw it.

"Oh fuck," I couldn't utter much more than a two-syllabled profanity. There was a bulge in my belly, just above my pelvis, moving in rhythm with Bruce's hips. And then he pressed on it and I-

Something, someone, somewhere was screaming. The noise was loud and pitched, but even then, I could barely hear it though the neverending waves of bliss that enveloped my whole being. Gold and silver at the edges of my rapidly darkening vision; I was drowning in something that smelled and felt like Bruce. The safety of his arms, the warmth of his heated body, the rapid snapping of his hips-

Oh.

"I'm gonna, fuck," the last word was but a ghost of a human speech. Growling low and filthy, Bruce leaned into my ear, his breath hot and moist. "Mine," his hips stuttered, his cock nestled deep, the sensation bordering on painful, forcefully extracted pleasure. It throbbed with every spurt of his seed; each one felt like a solid punch in the gut to my abused pussy.

"Daddy," I mewled, my body jerking away from him but my mind and my soul yearning for more. His rapidly softening flesh made the idea of being separated unbearable.

"S'good, s'my good girl, m'so proud," he mumbled, looking slightly disoriented as he removed himself from me, immediately pressing me to his side and interwining any free, flailing limbs.

We laid in silence, each of us slowly coming back to Earth after the completely unreal experience we just had. I didn't know what to think, didn't know what to do as the realization set in, the post-orgasmic haze giving way to a sudden rush of clarity.

"I can hear you overthinking," Bruce's voice was fond.

Before I could muster up the courage to snark back, the divided doors opened, one very concerned Tony Stark standing there, armed with a tranquilizer gun in one hand and a pack of cookies in the other. His mouth, previously open to (probably) yell at us, remained as open when his eyes had registered the scene in front of him.

I stared at Bruce. Bruce stared at Tony.

"The noise," he offered in the way of explanation, dangling the pack of cookies, looking, for once - speechless. He recovered quickly, however, even if the remark was a thin ghost of his usual sass: "You pick the nerd over me? I'm hurt," he scoffed in mock irritation, although I was pretty sure I saw some satisfaction in there, too.

Bruce looked at me. I looked at Bruce.

A mischievous grin slowly crept up his face, an identical one beginning to appear on my own face seconds after.

"Hey, two nerds is better than one, right?" My response is what did it; or, rather, it was the evidence of my previous throat-fucking clearly audible in my voice... Tony dropped the cookies and then, the tranq gun.

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