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fatehbaz · 8 months

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Despite its green image, Ireland has surprisingly little forest. [...] [M]ore than 80% of the island of Ireland was [once] covered in trees. [...] [O]f that 11% of the Republic of Ireland that is [now] forested, the vast majority (9% of the country) is planted with [non-native] spruces like the Sitka spruce [in commercial plantations], a fast growing conifer originally from Alaska which can be harvested after just 15 years. Just 2% of Ireland is covered with native broadleaf trees.

Text by: Martha O’Hagan Luff. “Ireland has lost almost all of its native forests - here’s how to bring them back.” The Conversation. 24 February 2023. [Emphasis added.]

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[I]ndustrial [...] oil palm plantations [...] have proliferated in tropical regions in many parts of the world, often built at the expense of mangrove and humid forest lands, with the aim to transform them from 'worthless swamp' to agro-industrial complexes [...]. Another clear case [...] comes from the southernmost area in the Colombian Pacific [...]. Here, since the early 1980s, the forest has been destroyed and communities displaced to give way to oil palm plantations. Inexistent in the 1970s, by the mid-1990s they had expanded to over 30,000 hectares. The monotony of the plantation - row after row of palm as far as you can see, a green desert of sorts - replaced the diverse, heterogenous and entangled world of forest and communities.

Text by: Arturo Escobar. "Thinking-Feeling with the Earth: Territorial Struggles and the Ontological Dimension of the Epistemologies of the South." Revista de Antropologia Iberoamericana Volume 11 Issue 1. 2016. [Emphasis added.]

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But efforts to increase global tree cover to limit climate change have skewed towards erecting plantations of fast-growing trees [...] [because] planting trees can demonstrate results a lot quicker than natural forest restoration. [...] [But] ill-advised tree planting can unleash invasive species [...]. [In India] [t]o maximize how much timber these forests yielded, British foresters planted pines from Europe and North America in extensive plantations in the Himalayan region [...] and introduced acacia trees from Australia [...]. One of these species, wattle (Acacia mearnsii) [...] was planted in [...] the Western Ghats. This area is what scientists all a biodiversity hotspot – a globally rare ecosystem replete with species. Wattle has since become invasive and taken over much of the region’s mountainous grasslands. Similarly, pine has spread over much of the Himalayas and displaced native oak trees while teak has replaced sal, a native hardwood, in central India. Both oak and sal are valued for [...] fertiliser, medicine and oil. Their loss [...] impoverished many [local and Indigenous people]. [...]

India’s national forest policy [...] aims for trees on 33% of the country’s area. Schemes under this policy include plantations consisting of a single species such as eucalyptus or bamboo which grow fast and can increase tree cover quickly, demonstrating success according to this dubious measure. Sometimes these trees are planted in grasslands and other ecosystems where tree cover is naturally low. [...] The success of forest restoration efforts cannot be measured by tree cover alone. The Indian government’s definition of “forest” still encompasses plantations of a single tree species, orchards and even bamboo, which actually belongs to the grass family. This means that biennial forest surveys cannot quantify how much natural forest has been restored, or convey the consequences of displacing native trees with competitive plantation species or identify if these exotic trees have invaded natural grasslands which have then been falsely recorded as restored forests. [...] Planting trees does not necessarily mean a forest is being restored. And reviving ecosystems in which trees are scarce is important too.

Text by: Dhanapal Govindarajulu. "India was a tree planting laboratory for 200 years - here are the results." The Conversation. 10 August 2023. [Emphasis added.]

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Nations and companies are competing to appropriate the last piece of available “untapped” forest that can provide the most amount of “environmental services.” [...] When British Empire forestry was first established as a disciplinary practice in India, [...] it proscribed private interests and initiated a new system of forest management based on a logic of utilitarian [extraction] [...]. Rather than the actual survival of plants or animals, the goal of this forestry was focused on preventing the exhaustion of resource extraction. [...]

Text by: Daniel Fernandez and Alon Schwabe. "The Offsetted." e-flux Architecture (Positions). November 2013. [Emphasis added.]

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At first glance, the statistics tell a hopeful story: Chile’s forests are expanding. […] On the ground, however, a different scene plays out: monocultures have replaced diverse natural forests [...]. At the crux of these [...] narratives is the definition of a single word: “forest.” [...] Pinochet’s wave of [...] [laws] included Forest Ordinance 701, passed in 1974, which subsidized the expansion of tree plantations [...] and gave the National Forestry Corporation control of Mapuche lands. This law set in motion an enormous expansion in fiber-farms, which are vast expanses of monoculture plantations Pinus radiata and Eucalyptus species grown for paper manufacturing and timber. [T]hese new plantations replaced native forests […]. According to a recent study in Landscape and Urban Planning, timber plantations expanded by a factor of ten from 1975 to 2007, and now occupy 43 percent of the South-central Chilean landscape. [...] While the confusion surrounding the definition of “forest” may appear to be an issue of semantics, Dr. Francis Putz [...] warns otherwise in a recent review published in Biotropica. […] Monoculture plantations are optimized for a single product, whereas native forests offer [...] water regulation, hosting biodiversity, and building soil fertility. [...][A]ccording to Putz, the distinction between plantations and native forests needs to be made clear. “[...] [A]nd the point that plantations are NOT forests needs to be made repeatedly [...]."

Text by: Julian Moll-Rocek. “When forests aren’t really forests: the high cost of Chile’s tree plantations.” Mongabay. 18 August 2014. [Emphasis added.]

#abolition #ecology #imperial #colonial

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blippymilk · 4 months

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Brozone (+ Poppy & Viva) x Touch Starved Fem! Reader

Ok the request is that the reader is a touch starved, easily flustered, insecure yet passionate female. Her hair can change based on how she’s feeling. She likes to rant and info dump a lot. She likes drawing herself and her loved ones, and gives small gifts as a form of affection or to make them feel better. There will be a friend and s/o version.

(I’m also really sorry if this is not to the liking of the request, I kind of struggled while making this 😭)

John Dory:

Friend:

- As your friend he’s a little concerned for you

- Like he knows your fine but sometime he worries 😭

- But nothing JD can’t handle

- Genuinely enjoys your little gifts but he never makes it obvious at first

“Hey JD look I made you a little gift.” :)

“Oh that’s sweet. Can you put it on my desk? I’ll look at it later.”

- One day him and his brothers were rough housing around while you Poppy, and Viva stood by cheering them on. Bruce gets a little too rough with him and knocks something out of his jacket, it was your gift

- This man stops everything

- Like everything

- Like everyone’s frozen in place no matter what stance they’re in

- And picks it up and places it gently back in the pockets inside his jacket then lectures the boys about how he could’ve gotten his belongings crushed 😭

S/O:

- Still worries about you even after being together

- Sometimes the way your emotions change with your hair startles him

- And that’s mostly because your emotions can change rapidly

- But he also finds it really funny

- So prepare for his scare attacks

- Your hair gets so spiky, and you get so mad

“Oh come on I was only playing around babe. Tell you what, I’ll find a better way to mess with your hair.”

- And he did, which was by flustering you with comments that boost your confidence

- Your face turns red and your hair poofs up then falls around your head

- You’re always muttering a lot just like Viva and Poppy and JD finds it hilarious that him, Branch, and Clay are in the same boat (not saying Clay and Viva are not dating jus to clarify 😭)

Floyd:

Friend:

- Loves having a friend that’s the complete opposite of him

- He’ll listen to you rant all day

- With feedback on every question and statement

- Also finds your hair amusing but won’t abuse it’s power on purpose like John 😭

- Shocked by your passion to draw

“Is that me and you?”

“You know it.”

“I love it.” 🥹

S/O:

- Absolutely head over heels for you

- Still would be into listening to you rant but he’s helping you calm down a bit more

- Now your drawings had a more romantic reference behind them and he loved them even more

- No matter where he goes he always has one of your pictures on him

- He carries it around and values it like cash

- And absolutely none of his (little) brothers are getting their hands on it (yes he’s aware that they’re all adults now)

Spruce Bruce

Friend:

- He’s an expert on hair so he’s not too shocked or anything

- I mean look at that fluff on his head

- Seeing as Bruce could handle so many kids in the movie I believe he could deal with a ranting partner just fine

- He knows how to avoid frustration with you

S/O:

- Finds everything you do cute (c’mon it’s Bruce)

- He loves your arts & crafts

- Probably more than you

- Just like John he likes to you see you flustered with that big frizz on your head

- Your hair is constantly poofy because this man never stopsssss

“Hey (____) did it hurt when you fell?”

“Huh?”

“When you fell. From heaven?”

“Bruce you’re litteraly gonna kill me and my hair…”

- Definitely helps you get the knots out afterward 😭

Clay:

Friends:

- He hangs around Viva so the rambling is nothing new to him

- Always tries to hide you from Viva because he knows you two would be a unstoppable force ( plus poppyyyyy?!?)

- Hates when you feel insecure in any kind of way possible

- So just like you leave him little sketches, he leaves little notes of affirmations for you to read

- And makes you read them

- Outloud

“I am so pretty, beautiful, smart, talente- Clay do I have to keep-”

“Keep going.”

“Ok but-”

- Extremely intense eye contact

sighhhhhhhh “I am talented, I am kind, I am loyal…”

S/O:

- One of the most respectful boyfriends in the world

- Eventually gives in and let’s you and Viva mingle (possibly a bad descion!!??)

- Astonished by what your hair is capable of (can’t show his excitement tho cause he’s not a fun boy anymore right?)

- He is a words of affection (and physical touch sjejkemsjks) kinda guy so as your boyfriend he’s all you could ask for

- So now your attached to this man like glue and it’s kind of his fault

- Has to pry you off sometime but he will never stop loving you the same

“I love youuuuuu.”

“I love youuuuuu too.”

Branch:

Friend:

- Just like Clay he’s friends with Poppy so he’s used to the talking behavior (no Boppy in thissss 😔)

- You guys didn’t exactly hit it off at first either

- You met him during his “no color” era so that makes most of the sense

- ntgl when he first finds out about your hair he’s thrown off

- And the other trolls had so much fun with it that he considered you a distraction from the bergens soooo he wasn’t too fond of you

- And it takes a while but eventually you both become inseparable

“You hated me for no reason, and now I’m your favorite.”

“Yeah yeah.”

S/O:

- He’s growing as in character development

- So now instead of getting upset he uses your hair to read you

- He never really knows when he’s doing anything right or wrong as far as the relationship so he depends on your hair to know which path to take

- Your info dumping soothes him, wether he likes it or not

- He plays it off subtly but he knows how to fluster you and he takes pride in that (*AHEM* SINGING)

Poppy:

Friend:

- Doesn’t even realize that you’re rambling cause she’s doing it too

- You both are a special duo that at one point drove Branch up a tree (no pun intended)

- As much as the trolls like you, they don’t realize how actually dangerous you two could be together 😭

- And you can imagine the fear on Branch’s face when he finds out Viva and Poppy are sisters

S/O:

- Everyone knows Poppy is a scrapbooking master so when she begins to receive little arts and crafts from you she’s in love

- Like she’s bouncing off the wall excited

- Literally (it’s Poppy)

- She’s superrr touchy-feely so your living your best life

- Your hair is so fun and amusing to her

- Like JD she might try to scare you a couple times to see your hair spike up for fun but cuddles you after

“I’m sorry sweetieeee you know I can’t help it. Your hair is just so fun!”

“Poppyyyy you say that everytimeeee!”

Viva:

Friends:

- Basically Poppy’s doppelgänger so what can you expect?!

- Always rambling but somehow always manages to do it more than you

- She might just be you plus Poppy times five

- Clay tried to help you hide your hair for the sake of you and Viva

- Unfortunately she popped up out of nowhere startling you both and causing your hair to go erratic

“So so sorry guys I didn’t mean to…OMG YOUR HAIR!”

S/O:

- Everything you could ask for from a girlfriend

- Like she literally could not have given you anymore

- She loves your art works

- She loves to hear you talk and join in with you

- She loves the touchy-feely type

- She literally can’t find a single flaw in you whatsoever

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fanficsdumpomg · 4 months

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Brozone x Reader (As Parents Headcanons)

John Dory:

*John Dory always dreamed of starting a family of his own during his young adult years but after brozone broke up and him hiking/adventuring the last decade that dream seemed further and further away.

*All that changed when he met you during his travels you too had a meet cute and after some slow burn you had finally gotten together! Suddenly John Dory felt a little less alone in his life, with his brothers back you both discussed starting your family together, and while you weren't actively trying; John was excited

*Which leads you to today, when you had woken up you discovered a turquoise egg with (H/C) nesting in your hair.

*John was ecstatic when you told him, to say the least, already planning many family adventures for your family.

*During the egg's nesting cycle you will have to fight this man to hold your child, he will constantly be bringing the egg everywhere and anywhere showing them new sights and smells. Also likes showing off the egg to other trolls, Like a toddler saying look at this cool thing i made!

*His bro's got him some dad-themed merchandise i.e. coffee cup that says world's best dad, a t-shirt that says which says soon-to-be dad which he wears with pride.

*Once the egg does hatch, he is going to be emotional all day.

*Y'all have a daughter who has his skin color and your (H/C).

*John Dory and you are pretty mellow parents, you let your kid do whatever as long as they are not breaking any laws/committing genocide/murder.

_________________________________________

Spruce:

*Bruce never had dreams of starting a family of his own, he was content with his life and when Brozone broke up he was content to go find a new purpose with his life.

*And that's when he met, you! You were a troll working for Brandi on Vacay Island and when she introduced the two of you, you hit it off and formed a relationship.

*Y'all were content with your lives and not looking to add anything else in the mix but all that changed when you woke up one morning with not one but two turquoise/purple eggs with (H/C) nesting in your hair.

*Bruce was nervous, you were nervous; what if you weren't ready to be parents? But Brandi and the other vacay islanders were there to assure you that no matter what they would be there to support you and be your family in this next stage.

*You both traded off in nesting the eggs, Bruce would take mornings and noon to let you rest and you would take afternoons and evenings to let Bruce rest.

*Bruce loves talking/snuggling to the eggs during his shifts. even though the little trolls had yet to be born he wanted them to know how much he loved them and that they'd always be a family no matter what

*When the eggs hatch, y'all are going to be swarmed with two hyperactive boy babies but honestly, you and Bruce wouldn't change anything and actually start trying for more once the twins have grown a little.

*Y'all Rock those Milf and Dilf vibes

_________________________________________________

Clay:

*Clay plans his life down to the very last scenario, even during his "fun boy" days he always planned on meeting the "one" and having a couple of trollings.

*Clay and you had met when he joined Putt-Putt village, you escaped with viva during the troll's escape from Bergen town. You and him had hit it off and with a little push from Viva you two had finally gotten together

*Clay and you are married for a year before you start actively trying for trollings.

*After a couple of months you both had given up hope of having trollings, I mean the other villagers could do it so easily why couldn't you??

*However your bad luck turned around when one day after waking up you noticed a bulging knot in your hair. Two small turquoise/lime green eggs with your (H/C) were nesting in your hair.

*Clay and you were ecstatic!! So was everyone in Putt-Putt Village; your small family finally felt complete.

*Clay is super annoying during the egg's nesting period, constantly following you around to protect you, limiting what kind of work you can do, how much rest you get, and what you eat. Honestly, you're pretty fed up with this man after this.

*When you're resting, he likes to keep the eggs safe in his hair. Man is like a feral dog with a piece of meat, will not let anyone near his eggs not even Viva; he will growl.

*Finally after a long two months, you're twins finally hatched! Two turquoise girls with your (H/C).

*Clay is definitely the strict parent, those protective instincts that arose during the eggs' nesting time are amplified to 100%. You are totally the girl's fun parent. Despite the differences in your parenting the girls love and respect the both of you!

________________________________________________________

Floyd:

*Floyd like his older brother had always wanted to start a family but that became like a distant dream after Brozone broke up, starting his solo career, and getting kidnapped by Velvet and Veneer.

*After his eventual rescue and recovery with Branch in Troll Village, he met you; a friend of Poppy's.

*Poppy saw how hard the two of you were crushing on each other and pushed the two of you together which led to your eventual dating and marriage!

*A month after the marriage, to your surprise; you had found a turquoise/red egg with your (H/C) nestling in your hair.

*You were ecstatic but Floyd was nervous. He had always wanted to have a child but what if he screwed up his relationship with them like he did with Branch.

*But after some gentle reassurances from his brothers, Poppy and Viva; he felt ready to take on this next phase of his life albeit anxiously.

*Cries every time he receives gifts for the baby, cries when he feels the egg kick inside its shell, and cries every day about how lucky he is. Man is taking all the emotions during the incubating period.

"Floyd would be too nervous to nest the egg in his hair so you would be the main nester for the duration of the incubation period.

*When the hatching day is here, Floyd is a bubbling mess. Cries throughout the entire day but those are happy tears that your baby is finally and your family is complete.

*Y'all have a healthy boy troll with your (H/C). Your baby is so chill too, rarely cries and loves to play and giggle

*As your child grows, Floyd is definitely the parent who would let the child get away with everything. You are going to have to be the rule-setter.

_________________________________________________

Branch:

*Branch has been alone for a long time, his brothers left him and his grandma had gotten eaten trying to protect him from a Bergen. So he had a deep desire to recreate the feeling of family he had once lost.

*But you had always been by his side since you two were you and through everything so it makes sense about the major crushes you two had on each other.

*After regaining his colors, Branch finally had the confidence to ask you out and you happily accepted; (even though you loved Branch no matter what).

*Y'all dated for a couple years and then were married before he discussed wanting children with you. To his surprise and excitement, you too had also wanted to have kids.

*So began your journey of trying for little trollings.

*A year after getting married you were surprised and excited to spot three turquoise/blue eggs with your (H/C) nesting in the knot in your hair.

* Branch goes feral during the nesting time. you will have to fight/argue with him to leave the bunker because he will try to keep you down during the nesting period.

*Will growl at anyone who comes near you and the eggs; only lets his brothers and poppy (with supervision) come around and see you and the eggs.

*Branch loves to carry the eggs in his hair when you need a break. Spends time talking/reading to them and telling them how much he loves them and can't wait to meet them.

*Poppy, Viva, and his brothers throw a baby shower for y'all and while Branch cringes at the dad-themed merchandise he is gifted, he secretly loves them and wears them all the time around the bunker with pride.

*Then when hatching day comes along, Branch is in a panic. What if he wasn't a good dad, what if they hate him?? But after he sees his little trollings, those worries dissipate.

*Y'all have two healthy boys and one healthy girl.

*Branch's protective instincts go from 100% to 10000% after the trolls are born. Your children definitely have Branch wrapped around their fingers and can get anything if they look cute or beg hard enough.

__________________________________________

#trolls x reader #brozone x reader #trolls branch x reader #trolls john dory x reader #trolls clay x reader #trolls floyd x reader #trolls bruce x reader #male reader for Floyd and Gender Neutral for the rest

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storydays · 5 months

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Clay X Wife! Reader

"We call them meat circles." Clay greeted his brothers dramatically. Their brothers and Poppy greeted him in varying ways before he continued to pinch and baby-talk Branch, ignoring his pleas to call him "Big Branch" or just "Branch."

A voice called out, "Clay, darling, if you want to talk to an actual baby...yours are right here." The group turned to see a light-pink-haired Troll, wearing a dress with a similar design to Clay, walking over with 2 peach color haired Tollings, one sleeping who had mini wrist bands and a diaper and one awake, a yellow pacifier in her mouth, with a couple of flowers placed in her hair and a diaper.

"Melody! Hey, sweetheart, you're finally awake!" Turning to the woman as he took the baby, his eyes softened even more, "Hey (Y/N), how was your nap? You feeling better, baby?"

(Y/N) smiled, adjusting her son slightly. "Yeah, I feel like that fog in my brain is lifted, like I can think clearer. But enough about me, who are the new Trolls?"

"Oh, yeah! Everyone, this is my wonderful wife, (Y/N), and mother of our twins, Melody and Lallo! Baby, these are my brothers, John Dory, Spruce, who goes by Bruce now, and Bit-I mean Branch. That's Poppy, Branch's girlfriend---and wait a second, where's Floyd?" Clay asked, looking for his slightly younger brother.

After explaining why they were there, Bruce spoke up. "Wait, I just realized, you're a dad, too Clay!" He laughed excitedly. Clay grinned from where they were tickling Melody. "Yeah, man! These two are only a few weeks old, but they are amazing! I wouldn't change anything for them."

Melody then started to pull on her father's wild green locks. "Ow! Mel-Mel! Let go! (Y/N), get your demon child!" "Mm-no." snorted (Y/N), as she then gave Clay their son who'd woken up wanting to play with his sister and father. "You traitor!" cried Clay, fighting his grin yelping again when one of the twins grabbed his hair and pulled hard.

Viva and (Y/N) giggled, before finally giving mercy to the CPA. They each took a twin and turned to the group to give Clay a chance to compose themself.

-----------------------------LINE BREAK-----------------------------------

(Y/N) knew it would bother Clay if he didn't try to help his brothers, but she didn't want them in danger.

Clay gave the sleeping twins a kiss on the head before pressing his forehead against hers, cupping her cheek, and wiping away a few tears. "Promise you'll be safe and come home, okay? These babies are too young to be without their dad. And I don't want to be a widow."

Laughing softly, Clay whispered, "I promise," before pressing a kiss to her lips, and let her rush off to stall Viva.

Bruce pat his brother's shoulder and led them to Rhonda. "Don't worry, buddy. We'll get you back to your wife and kids."

-----------------------------LINE BREAK--------------------------------

After freeing Clay and the others freed Floyd, they came to rest at Putt Putt village and picking up (Y/N) and the twins.

Everyone getting along so well, and Bruce offering advice for those first time parent jitters, he could see written all over both of the younger couple's face.

(Y/N) being the most supportive wife,and getting along splendidly with Bruce's wife, Brandi.

The two having a bi monthly moms date, having a monthly girls' night, with Poppy, Viva, Bridget.

Every month, (Y/N) takes her daughter Melody and Brandi brings her daughters for a mommy daughter cousins sisters in law date.

(Y/N) being the Putt-Putt troll preschool teacher, having her kids in class when they're old enough.

Melody and Lallo are both names after music(Melody being the melody of a song, and Lallo means lullaby in Spanish.)

I headcanon that the Putt Putt trolls' two main languages are English and Spanish.

Let me know what you guys think!

@vacayisland

#brozone clay x reader #brozone x reader #clay trolls #trolls band together #dreamworks trolls #x reader

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inkdrinkerworld · 6 months

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Househusband!james doesn’t let you look twice at a broom. If he catches you cleaning he’ll immediately make you sit down.

Yes!

James hates it when you try to do work after you get home from work. Especially on days he’s had off.

He’s in the middle of tidying up the kitchen when you get home and you don’t even bother trying to change out of your work clothes before picking up the broom.

“Hey Jamie, I’m gonna get started on the living room.”

You kiss his lips and before you can run off to the living room, James’ hand cements you just in front of him.

“No, you’re not angel,” he speaks the words against your lips and smiles when you pout. “You’re gonna go have a shower in the clean bath and then change into something nice. Tea’s almost done.”

You pull back just a little, not missing James’ little smug smile at your grateful look.

“Jamie you didn’t have to.” He rolls his eyes, hand slipping down to pat your bum.

“Wanted to, and the flat needed a little sprucing up. Now go shower so you’ll be back down in time for tea.”

You nod, pressing two sticky kisses to his lips before moseying up the stairs.

When you get back, James has your lavender and vanilla essential oils in the diffuser, dinner plated and something on the tv.

“You’re a saint, Jamie.” He grins, waiting for you to sit before handing you your plate.

“You’re being silly, but thank you angel. What d’you say we start that new series hm?”

#jamespotter #james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x yn #james potter x black!reader #james potter one shot #james potter fanfiction #james potter imagine #james potter drabble #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter fic

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moog-rt · 2 months

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GO TO HELL [ch. 2]

[Lucifer Morningstar x Fem!Reader]

Previous: Chapter One

➨ Chapter Two

Next: Chapter Three

Premise:

You love your friends. You really do. But sometimes it needs reminding when one of them accidentally sends you to Hell.

Despite falling into the hands of Hell’s loveliest princess, finding a way back to the world of the living proves difficult as you tiptoe around its king.

Warning(s): daddy issues, invasion of personal space

If you'd prefer to read on Ao3, here is the link:

Otherwise, enjoy!

♡ ♡ ♡

CHAPTER TWO

Once again, you found yourself having no clue what you signed up for. At this point, it was on you. You should have learned your lesson the last time you put your trust in someone.

This time, instead of being booted through a portal into hell, you were being dressed up like a doll. The outfit you arrived in wasn’t ‘hellspawn’ enough so Charlie was throwing a plethora of outfits at you and seeing what stuck. You had to admit, you liked how the new clothes looked on you, but Charlie would scrutinize them before changing them again.

Personally, you thought you were being a pretty good sport about it.

Just when you thought it was over, she dragged you in front of her vanity before darting out of the room. This worried you. It was safe enough to assume she was going to do something with your hair or makeup, but what did she need that wasn’t already here?

You began looking around her bedroom, taking in the details of the rich maroon wallpaper and the way the wood paneling complemented it in both shape and color. Her bed was truly something to be envious of, though. It seemed to be even bigger than a king, and the canopy frame allowed her to have translucent and opaque purple curtains draped in layers above it.

It was possible the entirety of the hotel could look like this once it was thoroughly scrubbed down and decorated. A diamond in the rough, if you will.

You could probably afford to stick around for a day to help deep clean. They were doing so much for you despite being a stranger who had (politely) broken in. Had you been in their shoes, you would have done them in with an iron skillet first and asked questions later (in the courtroom).

You jumped as Charlie came scrambling back in with what seemed to be tubes of paint. You couldn’t help but feel concerned for what was to come.

The paint was squeezed into a bowl with a squelching sound similar to a ketchup bottle towards the end of its life. She reached across you to grab a makeup brush and began mixing it together.

Where did she think she was gonna put that?

You barely had time to react before she dragged the cold wet brush across your cheek. It only took her a minute to completely lather your face. You dared to look at yourself in the vanity mirror as she moved on to cover the rest of your exposed skin. Her gentleness tickled as the brush swept across your arms. She kept it rather neat to your surprise.

“Don’t worry. We just need to get the base down, and then we can spruce it up!” she chirped.

When you asked what there was to get ready for, this was not what you imagined. You could understand not wanting to look like a bum when meeting new people, but to go this far… Meeting a parent shouldn’t even matter if you’re not dating their kid. There was nothing you had to prove to Charlie’s father. Especially since you wouldn’t see him again so long as everything went according to plan.

The actual reason Vaggie suggested this was far more reasonable.

No, they weren’t just doing this to make you look pretty. They wanted to hide you completely. The idea was to make you look like a demon to the best of their ability in hopes of avoiding any unwanted attention. You understood why. Your first hour or so in Hell was pretty traumatic to say the least.

Vaggie went on to list all the things that could happen to you if you were found as a human, which did not help your nerves one bit. You could end up on someone’s dinner plate, or your teeth could be sold on the not-so-black market for a pretty hefty price. Your bucket list may be lengthy, but having your parts being used as someone else’s decor was sure as shit not on it.

Charlie tried to reassure you that her childhood home wouldn’t be so dangerous. However, she couldn’t promise her dad would have a positive reaction to a human wandering around, so it would still be safer to go in disguise. It would also draw far less attention from the staff, meaning you wouldn’t be stuck there so long.

You really got the vibe that she had daddy issues from how much she emphasized it being a quick trip. Not to mention her reluctance to go in the first place…

Charlie finished up the base coat of paint and moved on to add details to make it more realistic. She then adjusted your hairstyle to cover your hairline where the edges of paint were most noticeable.

“Okay, okay, now the final touch…” she said as she bounced over to her closet behind you.

You couldn’t see what she was grabbing. You only felt something being placed on your head. Before you could look in the mirror, Charlie invaded your view and shoved a pair of glasses onto your face.

You were dragged over to her golden cheval mirror.

“Grand reveal!”

You certainly didn’t look human anymore. Your natural complexion was completely hidden, and the thing Charlie placed upon your head was a pair of fake horns, which she was bobby-pinning in place to ensure they’d stay put. The outfit itself you really liked, but the glasses she had chosen were in the shape of large hearts with bold red tint.

You felt so goofy.

You’d rather be offered up to one of the demonic cannibals than be caught looking like this in the living world. Your only solace was that the majority of people in Hell looked even stranger than you. That, and the amount of coverage you had made you feel like you were wearing a mask that you could hide behind..

“You look…amazing!” Charlie sang, hopping up and down a little. You may have felt a little embarrassed by your get-up, but the joy on her face nearly made it worth it. “Come on, we have to show Vaggie!”

You trailed behind her down the stairs where Vaggie was waiting to send the two of you off. She couldn’t tag along due to prior arrangements. If you remembered correctly, she was going to be interviewing potential guests for the hotel. Real guests rather than a human who had washed up on their doorstep.

“Vaggie, Vaggie, look!” Charlie called. “You would never guess she was human, right?”

Vaggie looked you up and down analytically before locking onto your face.

“It turned out pretty good, but, uh…” She gestured at her own eyes rather than pointing at you. “What’s with the shades?”

“Well…Her eyes were the only thing I couldn’t really disguise, so the sunglasses will keep them from being visible!” Charlie said with a big grin, clasping her hands together in front of her chest. “They’re also so cute.”

She and you must have very different tastes, but who knows, this could be what was trendy here in Hell. Even if it wasn’t, she made a good point. Of the few demons you’d seen, none of their eyes looked like a typical human’s.

Two beeps from outside the hotel were your cue it was time to head out.

“It’ll go great,” Vaggie said to Charlie, rubbing her back.

“Right…we’ll be back soon!” Charlie said as she led you outside where a white and pink limo was waiting.

Oh. So she was rich then.

You figured the hotel itself wasn’t too cheap, but the condition it was in didn’t make it seem like it would break the bank. This was a clue into Charlie’s status that had yet to be revealed to you.

The drive through town allowed you to take in the sights rather than watching it all blur by whilst running for your life. There was a good range of shops between ‘normal enough’ to ‘I’d expect no less from Hell.’ Some sold electronics and furniture while others advertised hitman services.

You were pretty sure you passed a vending machine that sold hard drugs.

Watching the denizens made you thankful that you were in the safety of the car. A woman in a business suit doing lines off a public bench before waltzing into the city library. A sketchy dude hanging around the outside of a rundown playground… He seemed to be mocking one of the kids before it launched itself at him, going straight for the jugular.

You looked away before you witnessed something you’d regret.

Charlie caught your eye, shooting you a wide grin. You did your best to smile back.

You wondered where her father would fall on the spectrum of people here. Would he be out for blood like the majority of folks you’d seen? If so, you’d be with Charlie trying to get out of there as quickly as you could.

“Park down here, please!” you heard Charlie say to the driver after a while.

Your surroundings hadn’t changed much from where you started out. The city did seem to be a bit more residential in this area, but the level of chaos remained the same.

You followed Charlie out of the vehicle, expecting to walk into one of the many townhouses lining the uneven street. Instead, she took you down a few blocks and around a corner. It was as if she didn’t want your arrival to be known. To be fair, you didn’t either. The thought of any interactions with Hell-dwellers beyond Charlie and Vaggie made you nervous.

You found yourself standing in front of tall golden gates attached to a stone wall that encircled a grand manor. It was massive, at least twice the size of the hotel, with elegant gold detailing around the windows and pillars. Even though it was gorgeous, you were a little thrown off by its odd shapes and red stripes that reminded you of a circus tent.

It was quite the niche aesthetic…

The front door opened as soon as the two of you reached the top of the stairs, greeted by a small red demon. He had black and white striped horns and wore a cute little suit that reminded you of a butler.

“Welcome back, miss,” he said, dipping his head a bit as he stepped aside to let us in. “I was unaware you would be visiting. Is your father expecting you?”

“Oh, no…” Charlie began fiddling with her hair. “We were just passing by when I remembered I wanted to…pick something up! It’s good to see you. I wish we could catch up, but my friend and I are on a tight schedule.”

Her laugh was forced as she grabbed your shoulders and began pushing you down the hall, ignoring the way you stumbled along. She told you that there would be a room where her dad kept an array of magical tools and artifacts. Most were gifts to earn his favor, she explained.

It made you wonder what sort of industry he was a part of where people were trying to suck up to such a degree.

Pictures lined the hallways with the majority having Charlie as the subject. Their golden frames contrasted nicely against the striped red wallpaper.

You couldn’t help but stop to look at one from when she was in an awkward preteen phase of her life. She was quick to notice and pull you away with a red face. You couldn’t help but chuckle.

Your relationship with Charlie was nothing deep. The two of you had only met the day before, afterall. But seeing bits of her past like this felt intimate in a way one would share memories with a friend. You hoped it didn’t embarrass her too much.

Maybe you would show her some of your baby pictures to make up for it later.

“Oh, this was my old bedroom! One second, there’s something I do want to grab,” she said as she pulled you to a stop before darting inside.

You peeked in through the doorway. It was similar to her current bedroom in some ways, another canopy bed with a plethora of drapery around it and a beautiful vanity with a soft glow emanating from behind it. Yet it was clear that it once belonged to a child from the stuffed animal collection and softer color palette.

Charlie had wandered over to a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf, rummaging through it as she searched for whatever it was she remembered.

You waited outside the doorway. It felt inappropriate to enter a place so sentimental to someone who was largely still a stranger to you. Seeing so many portraits from her past already seemed like a breach of her privacy even though you couldn’t help it. It’s not like you could wander around the halls with your eyes closed.

As you turned away from her room, a small man came strutting around the corner, donned in all white save for a red waistcoat and black knee-high boots. He was about to proceed down the hall perpendicular to yours before skidding to a halt.

His head whipped around to face you, and you froze.

Shit.

His pale blonde hair, ghostly white skin, and rosy spots on his cheeks made him nearly identical to Charlie. He had to be either the father or a brother that she had yet to mention.

He stared into your damn soul, unmoving. You wondered if he could see right through your disguise. Through the paint on your skin to the blood that pulsed underneath. Past your skull to the thoughts racing through your mind.

You stood stalk still in your spot, as well, staring right back at him. You felt it was the only thing you could do. It was either that or book it, but you weren’t paying attention to the turns you took to get to this point. You’d be lost in a heartbeat. Imagine how stupid you’d look then.

So you opted to harness your inner statue. You didn’t dare move a muscle in case–by some miracle–he could only detect movement. If you were lucky, he would shrug and continue strutting away.

Manifest…manifest…manifest–

“Who are you?” He demanded in a deadpan voice as he jabbed his cane in your direction.

Shittt.

“I’m–uh…” Your eyes darted to the side before landing back on him. “Who are you?”

Meeting the parents was never your forte.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Dad!”

Thank fucking god.

His eyes lit up and a massive sharp-toothed smile spread across his face, completely forgetting about you the instant Charlie entered the hallway.

“Charlie!” he practically screamed, arms spreading wide into the air. You had to duck out of the way as he threw himself onto his daughter. One would think he was attempting to squeeze the life out of her with how tightly he was holding on.

She looked miserable.

You did your best to hide your smile at the exchange. You could remember all the times you were embarrassed by overly affectionate loved ones shamelessly kissing and cooing at you in front of your peers. You were sure that at least half the time it was done so with malicious intent.

On the flip side, it was always quite enjoyable to witness it happening to others.

“I know, Dad. It’s good to see you, too…” She was patting his back, an attempt to signal she was ready to be let go.

“Why didn’t you tell me you would be visiting? We could have planned something fun to do ahead of time–”

“It was a spur-of-the-moment thing! We weren’t originally planning on dropping by, but I remembered there was something I wanted to grab, so…” she lied.

You were unaware she hadn’t given her dad any sort of heads up at all. You felt bad that you were sneaking in without his knowing. Especially since he seemed so overjoyed just to get to see her.

“Speaking of,” she redirected, stepping aside and turning to you. “This is one of my friends–”

“Ah, it is so nice to meet you!” he eagerly cut in.

You were only going to exchange a small wave, but he practically jumped on you, grabbing your hand and shaking it with exuberance.

“My goodness, Charlie never brings her friends over. This–this is so exciting!”

He was so close that it gave you goosebumps. He looked less human than Charlie, but not quite animalistic like the other demons you’d seen. His red pupils were much smaller than hers, bordering on snake-like slits, and all of his teeth were akin to daggers. She must have gotten her more human qualities from her mother.

You did your very best to smile as genuinely as you could.

“It’s nice to meet you, too–uh–Sir.”

He drew back, finally giving you space. Then his eyes lowered to your mouth.

You quickly sealed your lips.

Was he looking at your teeth? They wouldn’t give you away, would they? Charlie and Vaggie had mostly dull teeth aside from their abnormally sharp canines. If he asked, you could tell him you wanted to see how far you could file them down…

Worrying about your appearance made you uncomfortably aware of the paint coating your skin. It felt so thick all of a sudden. So sticky but also dry. And the fake horns were so heavy. God, you wanted nothing more than to rip it all off.

Your heartbeat was picking up speed.

Did his eyebrow just twitch?

His eyes narrowed slightly but that grin held fast. He briefly looked down to his hands before returning to your face, rubbing his gloved fingers together. It was as if touching you left an uncomfortable feeling behind that he was trying to get off.

“I’m glad we got to run into you, but we’re on a bit of a time crunch, so we should get going,” Charlie said, laughing nervously as she tugged on your sleeve.

“It was nice meeting you,” you repeated with a dip of your head before following her down the hall.

You could feel his eyes on you while you walked away. As you turned the corner, you glanced back to confirm you were just paranoid.

His red eyes were locked onto you. He hadn’t moved from his spot, and his smile was gone.

Relief washed over once you were out of his line of sight. There’s no way he knew you were human. He couldn’t have been able to tell from just your teeth.

But then why did he look at you so strangely?

Your anxiety began to let up more and more as you got further away. Glancing over at Charlie, you could tell she, too, was bothered. Her eyebrows were furrowed and her lips pursed. She kept silent until you finally arrived at the room you came here for in the first place.

It was filled with shelves that held a wide variety of objects. From books, to statues, to strange glowing orbs on pedestals…

If you could find what you needed quickly, none of this would matter. You wouldn’t have to worry about Charlie’s dad figuring you out. You would be back home, safe and sound.

Where it was a good thing you were human.

Where the only things you had to worry about were bills and boy troubles.

“Alrighty,” Charlie said, closing the door after you. “I’m not really sure where to start, but some of these should have labels or descriptions or something.”

That was reassuring.

You each got to work, filing through piece by piece. She wasn’t wrong about some being labeled, though their names often told you little to nothing about what they actually were or what they could do.

As you went to flip through an old book similar in appearance to Devon’s, it was engulfed in purple flames. You gasped, backing away and colliding with something behind you.

Spinning around in hopes of preventing whatever you bumped into from falling, you came face to face with Charlie’s father.

Your heart stopped.

“Might I help you find something?” The smirk adorning his lips as he leaned closer was not comforting whatsoever. You were beginning to understand Charlie’s distress. This man had no concern for personal space.

Wide-eyed, you glanced over at Charlie who looked nearly as alarmed as you to see him there. You side-stepped away so that you were no longer sandwiched between him and the shelves.

“Dad…” Charlie drawled. “Don’t you have something more important to be doing right now?”

“What could possibly be more important than my favorite daughter? It’s been so long since I’ve last seen you!” he said, facing her.

“I’m your only daughter,” Charlie groaned.

“Uh-huh, which is why I want to spend as much time with you as I can~” he sang as threw an arm around her shoulder. “Say, have I gotten to show you my newest ducks yet?”

“No…look we’re really busy right now.”

“Right, right. Looking for something that you need,” he said, waving his hand in the air as he recalled her previous words. “In this room of all places?”

That made Charlie stiffen.

“Ah, well–uh…”

“She was just showing me around while we were passing,” you spoke up. You were so thankful that your smile didn’t falter when his half-lidded eyes turned to you once more. “It would have been a shame to have missed out on so many amazing relics.”

“I’m sure,” he hummed. “If you’re curious about any in particular, I can tell you all about them.”

He relinquished Charlie to step up to you again.

“Were you a historian when you were alive?” He asked, tilting his head.

“Ah…No…” you said, looking off to the side. There was a moment of silence before you realized he was probably expecting you to specify your occupation. “I was a clinical technician. Items such as these would be interesting to anyone though, I’d imagine.”

“And what did you do to wind up here in Hell?”

What?

“Um, I didn’t…”

“Many would assume working in the medical field would earn you a one-way ticket straight to Heaven, so what could you have possibly done to land yourself here?” His tone turned serious, eyes narrowing.

You needed to calm yourself down. He was probably just interrogating you to ensure his daughter was keeping good company. You’d likely do the same if your child was surrounded by a bunch of sinners with some of the worst track records known to man.

What answer could you give him that was justified enough but didn’t make you sound like a psycho?

You stole a bunch of human blood and used it in a satanic seance.

He didn’t need to know that.

Premarital sex?

No, he had no business knowing about your sex life either.

“I cheated on a test once,” you answered with a guilty smile.

He gave you the most deadpan stare you’d ever seen.

“Premarital sex, too.”

“That’ll do it!” Charlie chimed in.

“That’s the whole reason Charlie and I met actually,” you said, trying to redirect the conversation.

Both gave you odd looks. That probably wasn’t the best way to follow up that statement, but oh well.

“She told me all about how I can redeem myself at the hotel she’s running! I hope to one day reclaim my virginity until I find that special someone.”

You smiled sweetly in hopes that it would earn you a few more brownie points. Weren’t you just the most precious little sinner?

“That’s right! She only recently got here, and she’s already seeking redemption! Isn’t that fantastic?” Charlie placed herself at your side, presenting you as if you were a class project. “She hasn’t even heard about the extermination yet!”

“The what?” You turned to face her.

“Don’t worry about it,” she waved you off.

Her father had both hands propped upon his apple cane as he squinted at the two of you. You were clearly hiding something but he had yet to figure out what.

Trumpets began to blare from right beside you, causing even more strain on your frantic heart.

“Hehe, sorry, one second,” Charlie said, pulling her phone out of her pocket to check whatever notification caused that horrid noise. There was a moment of silence as she read the message before her eyes widened, and she went slack jawed. “Shit.”

Well. That didn’t sound good.

Her father looked concerned about her reaction, as well, placing himself at her side with a hand on her arm as he looked up at her.

“Is everything alright, sweetie?” he asked in a soft tone.

“It’s nothing,” she shook her head, pulling away from him. “It was nice seeing you, Dad, but we really have to go now.”

She grabbed your wrist and dragged you out of the room with her, leaving her father behind without a second glance.

Next Chapter

♡ ♡ ♡

tag list: @spookysisters @for-hearthand-home @crescent-z

#lucifer magne #lucifer magne x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #demon summoning #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer morningstar #occult #daddy issues #charlie magne #charlie morningstar #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer

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thebibliosphere · 2 years

Text

I receive many wonderful and kind comments about Phangs in my inbox daily, but the ones that stick with me the most are always from fellow neurodivergent people, usually elated or crying because Phangs is the first book they've been able to read since their teens, sometimes even decades.

"I thought I'd lost the ability to read; I thought there was something wrong with me; I thought I was broken," over and over and over again.

I've talked about it before, but just in case you need to hear it: it's not just you; it's the publishing industry.

If you follow my Twitter, you may have seen the thread where I talked about what that was like, and how I was often handed the "problem" writers who struggled to conform to the industry standards. (The original thread is gone, but for context, it was about the lack of accessibility in publishing for people with ADHD) I didn't know it then because I wasn't yet diagnosed, but I understood the problems these writers were having because our brains functioned on the same wavelength.

I understood why they felt specific changes harmed the text, but I also understood that it was the cost of being published, and it was my job to help them with it. I went above and beyond to make it as painless for them as possible. All the while listening to my colleagues around the wine water cooler deride these writers as "pretentious" and "too thin-skinned for publishing."

I hated them. I still hate them, and I hate that the industry is the way it is because it's really not that difficult to accommodate.

Suppose an ADHD author tells you the changes you've made have made a sentence incomprehensible to them (and I cannot stress enough how distressing it is to have something you wrote be turned into something you cannot read). In that case, it's likely because you've removed certain critical elements for the sake of brevity. It might not look like vital elements to you, but for ND brains, longer sentences with additional qualifiers and descriptors can really help us latch onto the "rhythm" of a text, which can help us feel more immersed and hold our attention better*.

Filler words can help with this; it gives our brain time to process but also figure out which parts are essential and to hold onto. It's sort of like, uh, how people say "like" and "uh" a lot (😋). These act as both social cues that indicate that while we might be pausing in our speech, we are not done talking yet, but also help keep our brains jogging along via the act of vocal stimulation. (If I can find the study I read on this, I'll come back and post the link.)

Regarding "superfluous" adjectives and "weak" adverbs, they often function to provide emphasis and context we might otherwise miss. Sure, you can go overboard with them, and they can lose all meaning if you do, but the general writing advice that "adverbs NEVER be used" is not only lousy in general but also means those of us who struggle with social cues and emotional context can be left feeling out of the loop.

I can't tell you the number of times I've had to go back and verify that a character is experiencing an Emotion because it wasn't emphasized, or the author tried to make it into a gut punch by using "sharp, punchy" language (but all they use is "sharp, punchy" language!), and my brain glossed over it because, well, if it's not part of the greater sentence structure, it's irrelevant.

And this shit is my job! I'm being paid to notice these things! It's just not how my brain works naturally, and forcing it to do so long-term is not only exhausting but distressing. Why would I keep trying to read something that causes me exhaustion and makes me feel stupid because I'm struggling to understand it?

Now, obviously, there will be times when a text needs sprucing up. Everyone has their "comfort" style of writing, and while repetition can be soothing to read, it can also make the text hard to engage with. Same with run-on sentences. Sometimes you need those one-word gut punches. Or everyone's favorite, the italicized "oh."

The trick is finding a happy medium between the two that retains your personal voice and writing style. A good editor will work with you to make this possible. A bad one will hack everything to pieces and tell you, "that's just how it's meant to be."

I was lucky with my editors. Sometimes, I had to tell them that the proposed changes wouldn't work and were causing me distress because I couldn't read them. And I knew. I knew if I couldn't follow the sentence structure, a good chunk of my prospective readers wouldn't be able to either. They weren't doing anything wrong. They were doing their jobs and ensuring my book had as much mainstream readability appeal as possible. However, the problem is that "mainstream readability," as we've already established, isn't accessible to a large chunk of the population. So we found ways to work around it. We made it work.

As is evident in the messages I get in my inbox daily.

Every single day, someone else tells me their friend recommended Phangs to them, and they were skeptical because they haven't been able to read a published book in years. And every single day, someone new tells me they loved Phangs, but the biggest thing they loved about it, was that they were even able to read it at all.

So thank you for the greatest compliment you can give me. A lot of work went into ensuring Phangs would be accessible to as many people as possible.

Also, sorry the industry is like *gestures* this.

----

*This is a generality and not true for everyone. People are not monoliths. I am merely speaking from my personal experiences from the things I have observed in the industry as an editor, a writer, and a lifelong reader who also now struggles to read the current style favored by the mainstream industry.

#writing #publishing #adhd #long post #sorry to just keep ranting about adhd stuff atm #but it's all on my mind

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misscinnamonroll16 · 3 months

Text

Headcanons I have after writing my fanfics

At one point in time John and Floyd were the same size. So John Dory has a lot of old clothes that he just gives to Floyd bc they'll fit him

Bruce is the only one of his brothers who is a social butterfly. The rest of the boys have no problem socializing but someone else has to start the conversation

If left in a library unattended, Clay will try and check out ALL the books. He's a huge bookworm

Floyd is super ticklish

If John had his way, none of his brothers would drive Rhonda. Branch and Bruce end up being exceptions.

Floyd is the lightest of his brothers, even after recovering from V&V. John is happy about the fact that he can still pick up one of his brothers.

Floyd spent the majority of the twenty years away living like a rock star. Partying, drinking, and dabbling other substances

John Dory's birthday is October 22nd. Bruce's birthday is February 15th. Clay's birthday is November 16th . Floyd's birthday is June 3rd. Branch's birthday is probably the only one that'll have a canon date so I'll leave it alone

Grandma Rosiepuff taught John Dory how to sew at a very young age, she was trying to keep the small child busy while she took care of his brother (this back before Clay was born)

John knows a lot of herbal remedies from his travels, learning things from the people he met.

John has an immune system of steel. Years of taking care of sick little brothers has hardened his immune system. So when John does get sick, he brushes it off until he is literally unable to function. (I'll probably write a fanfic about this eventually)

Bruce is practically a gourmet chef from how much cooking he's learned and practiced

Despite how much of a bookworm Clay is, he hated school. Always eager to be free from the building.

Sometimes each of the boys faked being sick just to get away from each other.

Between all the brothers, JD and Branch have the most scars, then Clay with a good amount and Bruce and Floyd have very little to none.

John Dory has the Disney Princess Affect ™️. Animals and critters love him. He's the type of guy to gain a stray cat's trust in minutes. (Kinda like Milton Moss)

John has a lullaby that he made up for his brothers when they were babies. He sung it when Spruce was crying one night and it calmed him down. John has never named the lullaby or written it down, he just knows it by heart. All the brothers know the tune but can't place from where and it makes them sleepy.

Bruce can read John Dory like an open book. He's able to notice the little changes in John's face as he reacts to things.

John Dory is touch starved! Someone please give him a hug or a cuddle or something!

#trolls #brozone #trolls john dory #trolls floyd #trolls clay #trolls bruce #branch trolls #trolls headcanon #trolls hcs

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cherryredstars · 3 months

Note

in simon's relationship struggles, you mentioned that he presents you with the ring and you hold out your hand and he slips it onto your finger without either of you saying a word... i love that idea as i am a quiet person myself. would you expand on that please? maybe some hcs about a quiet love shared between them?? sfw or nsfw (or both:)) up to you love your work so much <333

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x gn!reader

Warnings: Fluff

Summary: How you and Simon show your love without words.

A/N: I smiled so wide seeing this request!! Thank you for loving my little blog!

Word Count: 770 (Not Edited)

It will forever be about the little things. Every detail and trait and action. It’s about the things that are magnified within the warm silence. It’s not a secretive love. A love that is shielded away from the eyes of others so it can be questioned. It’s the type of love that is so clear that there isn’t any question of its existence.

Simon is so perceptive. He notices every micro-expression you have and the slightest changes in body language. He documents it in his mind, storing it for a later date even if it doesn’t seem important. It always comes in handy in some way or another.

When he’s out on missions, far from home and missing you, he tends to imagine your reactions to everything. When he’s out in the towns, he’ll briefly pause outside the shop. He’ll remember the way you had slightly twitched your nose at the colors of a piece of clothing. How your eyes strayed onto something a few seconds longer than usual. Then he’ll walk away from the shop, remembering the name. He’ll be sure to return before he goes home.

He brings back trinkets for you. Always. And it is always something you fall in love with. The same details. He already knows what you would want. What would grace him with that fond smile as you cradle them in your hands. It’s all based on elimination. He’ll pick something up, examine every aspect of it and then go through his checklist of you. How you’ve reacted to similar things in the past and deciding from there if he should move on. He never misses.

In return, you do your little acts of service. Always making sure everything he loves is stocked in the house when he comes home. Has his tea brewing and the kettle going for his convenience. You have the spaces in the house prepared for him to place his things. You make the transition from military to civilian as smooth as possible. His heart warms when he goes to the kitchen at any hour of the day or night, huffing at the sink of dishes. But his body relaxes and the tiniest smile graces his face when he looks to the side and his mug is already in the drying rack waiting for him.

He has never been more content than on the days he leaves for deployment. You will be dead asleep besides him, but it feels like you’re by his side the whole time he prepares to leave. In the kitchen, everything is laid out for him. The box of tea and the kettle and the to-go cup. A throw-away bag sitting in the fridge with a homemade meal for him to eat while he’s away. All the last minute things he grabs on the counter where he can’t miss it.

Before he leaves, he makes sure you’re prepared for anything that might happen. He has carefully instructed papers for any situation. Step by step things followed with materials for reference. He makes sure nothing is broken or may be in need of a spruce up before he leaves to minimize your inconveniences. Makes sure the fireplace has wood to last months. Double checks the backup supply of water is filled to the top. Buys extra batteries for emergency flashlights and the back up generator. Makes sure the car has a spare and a filled gas canister that is safely stored away. He predicts any problems you may have and thinks of ways to reduce and prevent it.

There are notes everywhere. You find them in drawers and in small spaces. In the obvious spots and the questionable ones. Inside pants pockets and coats. All have miscellaneous messages. Some paragraphs long and some with small drawings. It warms both of your hearts. You carry a note scratched out in Simon’s chicken scratch reading Why is there a bottle of water in the bathroom cabinet? Simon’s tactical vest has a crumpled and ripped hot pink sticky note that reads A magikarp can easily fuck you up <3 with the ugliest looking fish drawn under it.

The best form of your love is the quiet nights spent in each other’s company. Laying together with small brushes to each other’s skin. It burns into your hearts, and it’s nice to know that the two of you can just exist with each other. The kisses are slow and loving. The touches are lingering and full of yearning. When the two of you slide into bed, tucked against each other, you find it hard to think anything can exist outside of your love.

Simon has no idea what a “magikarp” is, and he has almost drunk micellar water before.

Join Cherry’s Discord Server

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jaybirddreads · 5 months

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Trolls Band Together

I watched Trolls 3 and I loved it. It's not the perfect movie (there are so many plot holes and things that don't make sense), but it's still really good and entertaining. The story itself was very heartwarming and moving for a 90-something-minute kids' movie.

One thing that I noticed about specifically Branch and his brothers is that they are so much duller than all the other trolls. It's very obvious when you compare their Brozone-era selves to their adult selves. Compared to other pop trolls, the Brozone brothers dulled as they aged. I don't think that it's just because they got older, because we see Poppy and Cooper as babies and they didn't really change in color as adults (you can kind of argue that Poppy got brighter if you look closely at her as a baby and as an adult). Another troll character that we see two versions of is King Peppy. We see him as an old man and we see a flashback of him, 20 years younger, in the first movie. Even then, the only difference between current King Peppy and younger King Peppy is the gray streaks in his hair.

These three characters are all consistent in their colors. Poppy is pink. Cooper is pink and blue. King Peppy is pink and orange.

And then you have the Brozone brothers:

Now, not all of them had a drastic change like Branch did, but all of them are definitely duller than when they were young. I think that Branch dulled the most, followed by John Dory, Floyd, Clay, and Spruce. Since we know that Branch lost his color due to his clear decline in mental health (especially after his grandmother's death), I think that that's why Spruce was the one who lost the least amount of color. I think that out of all his brothers, he's the one who's done the best for himself after leaving.

Spruce is a business owner; his business partner is his wife (I loved Brandy so much) and he's a father. I think that of all his brothers, he and Clay were the ones that really 'grew up'. Spruce talks about how he changed his name to Bruce to leave behind his boyband days when he became a father. In the first flash back, Spruce is the one that butts heads with John Dory the most. During the scene where John Dory, Spruce, and Clay argue Spruce says "Why do you think I left? So that no one would treat me like you did." to John Dory. I think that even though Spruce was upset with his brothers and affected by the end of their band, he managed to get back some happiness with the family that he formed.

Clay is the second on my list because I think that he was able to find support in Viva and the other Putt-Putt trolls. Out of all the brothers (excluding Branch) we know the most about Spruce and Clay's lives after Brozone. And while Spruce found solace in his family, Clay had the Putt-Putt community. Clay, during the band days, was considered the 'fun one' and people (John Dory) did not take him seriously because of it. With the Putt-Putt trolls, Clay is well respected as the 'boring' half of the operation (in Viva's words). Clay has moments in the movie where he denies having any fun at all. We also see at the start of the movie that Clay can feel insecure when he looks out into the crowd and mutters how much pressure the performance is during the first flashback. Between him and Spruce, they are the only two brothers with cemented careers (Spruce as a business owner and Clay as a licensed CPA).

Floyd is third on my list because of one real reason and the rest is speculation. The reason why is because we know literally nothing about anything that he did after he went off soul searching. I assume he probably just wandered around by himself for a while or (my personal favorite headcanon) he lived with another type of troll, personally my mind goes to the rock trolls.

John Dory is after Branch because I don't think that twenty years of isolation is good for anyone (I mean, look at Branch). From what we know about John Dory he spent twenty years alone with only Rhonda (and we don't even know how long he has had Rhonda by his side). I think that she might be the reason he isn't gray-gray like Branch is, because we see how much he loves and cherishes her.

Branch is first, obviously because he's physically the dullest one and we know the most about him. He was abandoned by his brothers when he was a child, a few years later his grandmother was murdered right in front of him and he blamed himself. He isolated himself in a bunker that was meant to be a hideout for himself and his brothers (who abandoned him) for years-- let's say fifteen-ish years-- before Poppy wormed her way into his life. At the end of the first movie he regains his colors and in the first holiday special, we see that his colors have faded a bit. He's not as gray as he was at the start of the first movie, but he's also not the same vibrant blue that he was at the end of the movie. Throughout the movies and holiday specials his colors fluctuate, but he never really goes back to gray or blue.

#trolls #trolls 3 #trolls band together #branch #floyd #clay #spruce #john dory #brozone

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scoops-stevie-archive · 11 months

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steddie week day 4 - hurt/comfort [read on ao3] @steddie-week

eddie wakes up four weeks after the fault lines open up and threaten to drag all of hawkins into the pits of hell.

steve isn't in the room for it, because that's just his luck, isn't it? but eddie isn't alone. wayne's been staying permanently and helping the nurses care for him where he can. helping them bathe him, washing his hair and keeping his face shaved.

three visitors per room, a nurse had told them once eddie was wheeled into recovery thirteen hours after he'd been rushed through the o.r's double doors.

they'd moved him to a permanent room on the west wing of the surgical unit once he was stable enough and it's where he's been ever since. they've spruced the place up a bit over the past couple weeks; flowers and cards line the window and balloons fill one corner of the room. wayne's coffee mug sits on the table beside eddie's bed and his duffel bag stays by the pull out chair he sleeps on.

the kids visit every day, traveling between eddie's room and max's a few doors down the hall, but steve's the only one that's been constant. he brings wayne a change of clothes every other day and takes his dirty laundry home to wash them. he can't do much for either of them in the current moment, but it'll do for now. he keeps wayne company and holds eddie's hand when it's just the two of them in the room.

but when eddie wakes up, it's only wayne by his side.

they tell him later that he wasn't gone long before he did, but steve still feels like he was hours too late, even though he was only two floors down in the cafeteria.

when he comes back into the room, they both turn to look at him and it feels like the wind's been knocked out of his chest, leaving him gasping for air. his hands go numb but before he can even think of dropping the two coffee's he's carrying, wayne takes them while muttering about giving them privacy and shuts the door behind him.

"hey, big boy."

eddie gives him a tired smile that's a touch too dopey from the morphine he's got coursing through him and tries to reach his hand out, but his arm just flops onto the bed.

it's a mere second of movement that tells steve that eddie is alive and breathing. he stumbles forward, hovering his hands over eddie's body like he's too afraid to touch.

eddie blinks slowly up at him, smile still in place. his eyes are glassy and unfocused– exactly like someone on a good high. but they still hold the same intensity that originally drew steve in. like eddie's seeing into his very soul. it was unnerving at first, in the beginning, but now there's a comfort in it.

"i'm okay, stevie," eddie whispers. "ya ain't gonna break me."

steve's face crumples and he gasps out a sob, collapsing at eddie's bedside and burying his face in the front of his hospital gown, staining it with tears and snot.

eddie comforts him with a weak hand in his hair and quiet reassurances but he can't do much from his spot in the bed.

"come up here, stevie," he says.

eyes bloodshot and his cheeks wet, steve sniffs and shakes his head. "i'll hurt you."

"you won't hurt me, baby," eddie says. he winces as he shuffles over in the bed, not by much, but enough that steve won't roll onto the floor. he makes grabby hands. "c'mere, need my favorite boy."

"i'm your only boy," steve giggles, but he carefully moves to tuck himself into eddie's side as gently as possible. he buries his face in eddie's neck and clings to his gown, as if eddie's liable to disappear at any second.

eddie snorts. "don't let henderson hear you say that. i'll never hear the end of it."

steve hums and presses a kiss to the side of eddie's neck, where the skin is unblemished and unmarred. eddie's hand in back in his hair and carefully brushing his fingers through the strands, and steve rests his over eddie's heart, the beat of it steady against his palm.

a kiss is placed on top of his head and steve can feel his eyes getting droopy.

"rest, sweetheart," eddie whispers, lips brushing his forehead. "i'll be here when you wake up, i promise."

wayne comes back a while later to both boys sound asleep, curled around each other in a way that'll have eddie whining about the ache in his sides later as steve rolls his eyes and scolds him. wayne can already see the exaggerated pout on his nephew's face as he breaks out the puppy eyes they both know steve is immune to.

chuckling to himself, wayne settles into the pull out chair and sips his coffee. he'll let steve call everybody over in the morning; no doubt eddie will want to know about the mayfield girl, but for now, they can rest.

after what wayne's been filled in on (by steve, the chief, and some government suits) his boys are gonna be in for a hell of a fight.

#teeeeeechnically this is how the s4 part of gseb ends but you didn't hear that from me 👀#steddie #steddie ficlet #cj talks #cj writes #gseb #steddieweek2023

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euniveve · 4 months

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𝐌𝐲 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐌𝐞 — k. ayato

pairings: ayato x reader tags: christmas, modern AU, angst to fluff w.c: 839 a.n: this is a very very very very late christmas present for @fuoon as part of the @2023gisecretsanta event! I never back down never give up (also i was technically sick so i can latch on to that reasoning hahahhahah I'm still very sorry tho) merry christmas, happy new years, hopefully you like your gift!

“Sweetheart, I am so sorry but there’s an emergency meeting that can’t be delayed. I’ll be home as soon as it’s finished.”

You let out a sigh of defeat, looking at the bare Christmas tree in the corner of your living room. The spruce sits there, dreary and gloomy, void of life and celebration, just like your heart. The corner of your lips twitch and you swallow the growing lump in your throat, your eyes shifting back towards the fireplace.

“It’s alright,” you reply, your voice shaky before clearing your throat, “hopefully your meeting goes well.”

“Again my love, I am so sorry, I’ll try to make it up–”

You press the red button before you can hear him say anything more, sparing you the inevitable disappointment it would bring.

Ayato always does this; business before family, or perhaps in his mind it is one and the same. After all, the man has been brought up for the sake of the company, his parents burdening him with the knowledge that it will all be his responsibility someday. That “someday” came 3 years ago and it has been weighing heavily on your relationship.

Last year you were stuck with his sister, Ayaka, and housekeeper Thoma while the head of the Kamisato Corporation ended up coming home after the celebration was finished and the leftovers from the feast stored away. They aren’t bad company per se, you could even say their presence is enjoyable, but they aren’t him.

They are not Kamisato Ayato.

Granted, the previous years he had returned home in time, but this year is no different than that one. The only difference is that Ayaka and Thoma were busy this time of the year, something about helping with the business, so it seems like you will be celebrating alone.

You suppose you are being selfish, seeing that his enterprise is the one managing the cultural aspect of the Tri-Commision, therefore they would be busy in the time of holidays, it is given. A sacrifice you would have to make, a taste for the coming years undoubtedly.

Wishing for it to change is a childish dream; you are only his fiancee after all. You ought to understand.

You look around the boxes, spotting your headphones before putting them on and arranging your favourite playlist to keep your mind off things, humming along to the tune of a familiar song.

With absentminded singing, you pick up the tinsel and begin to wrap it around the tree, arranging tiny lights in between the branches. Your fingers twirl the ornaments before placing them in a neat and florid manner.

Staring blankly at the now fully decorated tree, you took a couple of steps back, trying to admire your own work; that is, before your back pressed against something… warm?

You furrowed your brow, your lips pressed together as your heart began to beat faster in a panic. You quickly contemplate many possibilities; did an intruder manage to get past the property’s tight security? Are you going to get mugged? Will Ayato be sad if a bunch of stuff is missing?

You shook your head; the fiancee of the richest man in Inazuma shouldn’t be scared of such things– so you bite the bullet and turn around, only to be greeted by those dreamy blue eyes and an aloof smile, one you have the pleasure of witnessing every morning.

Ayato reaches over to you, his gaze soft as his hand gently grabs onto your headphones and removes them from your head, your heart beating out of your chest as you watch his every move.

“Ayat-”

Warmth engulfed you both as you felt his soft lips against yours, his arm wrapped around your waist, a tender touch shared only between couples; the happiest couple you know.

“But you said you wouldn’t?” You whisper with bated breath, “How.. why?”

“I will not miss another Christmas with you,” he softly replies before letting one of his mischievous smiles slip in, “After all, there are worse nights to miss than this one.”

“Pfft…”

His blue eyes shift away from your face, that smirk still sitting on his lips before his sights landed on the fully decorated Christmas tree, except for arguably, the most important part. “Where is the star?”

He slightly bent down, resting his chin on your shoulder, kissing your jaw before whispering into your ear, his hot breath fanning over your earlobe almost making you shiver. “Were you waiting for me to put it, darling?”

“As if!” You stifle a chuckle, eyeing the golden star on one of the boxes before tugging the fabric of his suit. “But could you perhaps do it?”

Ayato hummed, his arm’s grip tightened on your waist, peppering kisses on your shoulder before finally loosening and walking over to the boxes, picking up the star and placing it on top of the tree effortlessly. He then suddenly turned around, taking a mistletoe out of his pocket and holding it high up.

“Shall we complete the ultimate Christmas tradition, my love?”

#gixrsecretsanta2023 #☁️◝ the holy codice: little musings #ayato x reader #kamisato ayato x reader #ayato angst #ayato fluff #kamisato ayato

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jolenes-doppelganger · 2 months

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Gentle Hands

Ilsa Faust x Fem! Reader (NSFW- RATED EXPLICIT)

Summary: What happens when a dangerous spy gets disavowed? She goes right back to her roots. It’s unfortunate that those roots land her into a months long obsession with the current tenant of her childhood home.

Warnings: Yandere/Stalker Ilsa- Non-consensual watching of intimate activities, clothes stealing (panty stealing), non-con touching of non-sexual areas, masturbation (Reader and Ilsa)

A/N: I do not condone this behavior in real life. This is a character study, get OFF my ass. <3

Word Count: 2.0K

[Told from Ilsa's POV, third person.]

It was normal, to be this involved in someone’s life, certainly. If everyone had the skills that Ilsa did they would do what Ilsa did. This girl, this (Reader), she was interesting. Unusually so. She'd done good things to Ilsa's childhood town home. There were plants everywhere, and the windows no longer fogged over in the winter, which meant she'd probably renovated the old town home herself. Or perhaps the landlords had changed. Ilsa didn't look into those details; those were boring, useless details. What was more interesting than the renovations was the person who continued to spruce up the home. Fresh wallpaper had been put up the day Ilsa had knocked on the door. Ilsa remembered this very clearly, using her proficiency for keen detail retainment to remember the day vividly.

Fall leaves clung to the stone pathway that led up to the town home. Ilsa knocked on the door of her childhood home, fully prepared for any sort of introduction, any sort of grumpy old geezer swinging the door open and letting out a tired 'What are ya ringing the door bell for, love?'. But that wasn't what happened.

'Hiya, how can I help you?' a soft voice asked, opening the door to reveal a kind looking young woman.

'Hi, I'm Ilsa Auster, I used to live here. I wanted to take a look around the old house for a moment, check to see if anyone I knew still lived here.' Ilsa softly explained.

The young woman smiled back.

'Oh, I see. My name is (Reader). I'm afraid I don't recognize you or know too much about the previous tenants.'

'I wouldn't expect you to, this was years ago, you see.' Ilsa smiled thinly.

The young woman seemed to pause for a moment, deciding on something.

'Well if you'd like to come in and have a cup of tea, you're more than welcome to.' she offered, so sweet.

Ilsa had come in for tea. She'd seen the freshly wallpapered living room, smelled the drying paint, and she'd run her fingers along the new countertops the new landlord had installed. You were sweet to Ilsa the entire time, giving her the little information you had about Simon Faust, the elderly gentleman that had passed on from complications related to kidney failure, as well as a few tenants in between. The tea you served was made the proper English way, with loose tea leaves in a metal tea strainer, left to steep in a pot for five minutes while Ilsa had chatted with you. The sugar cubes you offered were sickly sweet, just like you. None of it would have made Ilsa do what she did next, none of it would have been something she'd dwell on at all, had you not touched her.

You'd given a soft squeeze to her shoulder as you bade her farewell at the door. A tender touch, full of trust, goodwill, kindness. Not too many people trusted Ilsa enough to touch her like that. In her line of work people didn't touch. A hand for support, a brief handshake for introduction, but mostly punches, slaps; hands wielded like weapons to leave bruises at the bare minimum, to end her life in the extremes. A kind touch was unheard of in her past life. With one small gesture, you had given Ilsa a taste of the life she'd given up working for MI6. It was this touch that ruined her; that made her ravenous for more.

That's why she was in front of her computer, browsing the cameras she'd placed inside your home. Hundreds of cameras to capture you from every angle as your hands worked. Those hands, petting your cat, watering your plants, cooking dinner (breakfast, lunch), touching anything and everything in that gentle way of yours. Those hands that soaped up your body in the shower, scrubbing yourself clean after a long day, those hands that lingered in the valley of your breasts and over the soft expanse of your stomach and roved over your bare thighs.

Those hands.

Tonight Ilsa was in for her favorite treat. You were tired, shifting uncomfortably, but not quite satisfied with something about yourself. Ilsa opened up a period recording app, tracking your cycle. She'd set this up this early on. It was interesting how predictable your behavior was in relation to your cycle; fascinating, truly. She smirked with glee. You were ovulating tomorrow. No wonder you were so uncomfortable.

'Feeling extra uptight, princess?' Ilsa whispered as she watched you squirm. 'Gonna give me a show?'

You gave in after five minutes. Phone down, reaching into your bedside table, bringing out that tiny little vibrator of yours that you adored. Ilsa had seen you use it a few times, but you used it most frequently during this window of heightened hormonal activity. You browsed on your phone, bringing up a cute little story. One of your 'fanfictions'. Ilsa could open your phone's software and see what you were reading if she really wanted to, but she didn't. Not now, anyways. She watched in excitement as you pulled your pajama pants down your legs, underwear too. Ilsa bit her lip. If you were taking them off all the way, this was going to be a good show.

The vibrator buzzed quietly. She watched in anticipation as you placed it against your clit, the soft gasp when you did.

'Princess, I might need to join in on this.' Ilsa smirked, crossing and uncrossing her legs.

You swiped through your phone reading avidly as the buzz continued. Your hips would wriggle a little, and you'd let out a soft 'hmm' or a breathy 'hihch' every once in a while, but that was it. Ilsa knew you weren't vocal. No, you were quiet. Ilsa shifted in her seat as you increased the vibrator's speed. She watched breathlessly as you seemed to be getting more into whatever you were reading.

'Oh, princess, now I know you're the quiet type, but you're putting on a show.' Ilsa whispered to the screen, eyes dilated.

She watched as your eyes rolled back and you panted quickly, going rigid for a few moments and then relaxing. The vibrator was back in the drawer before Ilsa had taken her jeans all the way off.

"No, damn it!' Ilsa slammed her fist on her desk. 'You're not playing fair, we're supposed to do it together!'

She watched as you walked into the bathroom, sitting on the toilet and peeing. Ilsa groaned, slapping her mouse on the pad, browsing through her stored videos. She found her favorite of you, the shower video. It was sixteen minutes long, eye candy for the intense voyeur that Ilsa had become. The setting of the video was sensual. You were in your shower, and you'd set up candles, a singular soft light illuminating the otherwise candlelit bathroom. Your hair was tied up to prevent it getting wet, and all your movements were slow. You started out carefully, using that expensive bar soap you'd bought, lathering up your arms and legs, moving slowly. Ilsa groaned at the sight, pulling her panties down her legs, running her thumbs up and down her inner thighs.

You reached for that special scrub you bought, the expensive shit. She watched as you exfoliated, paying special attention to your breasts and your ass. Ilsa moaned at the sight, starting to rub slow circles around her clit. You rinsed the scrub off, shaving your legs and your armpits. Ilsa moved her fingers slightly faster as she watched, you were propping your legs up one at a time, and that angle was spectacular. Ilsa felt herself moving too close to orgasm too quickly, so she moved her fingers down, circling her entrance, dipping her fingers in carefully. She didn't want to orgasm yet, not when the main act was just starting.

Ilsa watched in silent awe as you reached for the shower head. It was new, another addition you'd added sometime ago, before Ilsa. You carefully adjusted the setting until the pulse of water was thin and violent. Your water pressure was too high, so you unscrewed the shower head just a titch. One leg on the shower ledge, the other straight, albeit barely bent, and when the water hit your clit just right, you allowed yourself to moan. Ilsa let out her own breathy moan in response, her fingers rubbing that spongey spot inside her while she used her other hand to rub her clit. She bit her lip as she watched your thighs shake, one of your hands slamming against the shower wall, keeping yourself up. Finally, it happened. You let out a soft series of gasps and whines, your leg shaking as you came.

The sight of that, the sound, the angles of the cameras, it was enough to get Ilsa orgasming. She let out her own quick pants and soft moans as she rubbed her clit furiously, working herself through that high. The video ended with you gently running a softer stream of water between your labia, rinsing everything clean.

'Divine.' Ilsa let out a breathy chuckle.

Flipping tabs, Ilsa returned to checking up on you, skimming the video feed. You hadn't done anything interesting in the sixteen minutes she'd been replaying your best performance yet. You'd done a few housekeeping things such as returning to clean your vibrator, remake the bed, change your panties.

Your panties.

Ilsa switched cameras, zooming on them. They were soaked, caused by ovulation no doubt. Ilsa bit her lip, envisioning just how wet they would feel in between her fingertips. You looked tired, throwing the panties into your laundry basket. Your exhaustion was to be expected. Ilsa had ensured that you would always be ready to sleep at a set time; she'd switched your vitamins you'd take at night with sleep aids. You wouldn't know the difference, they looked the same as your iron pill, and you weren't tasting them to know the difference.

Ilsa smiled, pulling up her pants, grabbing the key she'd had made for your home. You were a silly girl, leaving that spare key in the flowerpot for when your Mom came over. It was a three hour errand to go to the locksmith, and no one ever asked a polite English lady about why the key was a spare instead of the original.

She slipped into your house through the back door, walking nonchalantly. Your neighbors didn't pay attention to who you had over anyways. Ilsa had talked to them a few times. They smoked too much weed to remember her, asking for her name everytime. Upon slipping in, she fed your cat a small treat. The 'Temptations' kind.

'Gonna stay quiet for me pretty girl? Yes you are.' Ilsa whispered, petting the cat until she purred, leaving a few treats to keep her occupied.

Slipping up the stairs, Ilsa quietly walked into your room, smiling at your slumbering face. Opening your closet, she grabbed those still wet panties, rubbing her fingers over the slick. Ilsa pocketed them. Ditsy girl you were, always forgetting which pairs of underwear you'd worn and which ones you hadn't. Ilsa creeped up to your bed, touching your sleeping form. You were too sleepy to notice, with your special pill and all.

'Hi princess. Don't you know better than to tease me like that? Your performance today wasn't all that stimulating.' Ilsa quietly cooed.

Taking your limp body in her arms, Ilsa was tempted to touch your new pair of panties, to see if they were wet, but she felt like that wasn't necessary. Besides, she wanted you to be awake the first time you two were together. She wasn't into fucking people when they were asleep; Ilsa didn't like how quiet they were. Besides, she'd already gotten off today. Ilsa decided on pulling you into her lap, cradling you quietly. She took one of your hands in hers, squeezing gently.

'Love these hands. Such gentle hands you've got.'

Ilsa kissed your face softly, but not your lips. No, she wanted you to be awake for that. She wanted you to remember Ilsa when she finally decided to make her move. But it wasn't time for that yet. Ilsa simply wasn't finished making the perfect person for you to love.

<----------------------------->

#ilsa faust #ilsa faust x reader #ilsa faust x you #ilsa faust x reader smut #rebecca ferguson #rebecca ferguson x reader #rebecca ferguson x you #mission impossible #lesbian #wlw #sapphic #dark writing

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jpitha · 5 months

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Pushing Paper, Counting Beans

The Human Alliance Dreadnought Big Stick had a problem.

Fleet Command had sent an auditor.

The auditor had been aboard for five days, interviewing the crew and inspecting the ship. Finally, he had requested his final interview, with Big Stick themself.

Major John Kellerman, Fleet Auditor, sat at the center of a conference table, facing the door, writing on a pad. He looked up and closed the pad with a snap. “I am ready when you are, Big Stick.”

In the rear of the conference room, a previously unseen door opened. One of Big Stick’s support frames walked out, and sauntered over to the chair opposite the Major. Stick found that when people were talking to them, they tended to just shout into the air. They hated when people shouted. There was no reason. Their microphones were all over the ship and of the highest quality. One could whisper to Big Stick and they’d hear it perfectly. But no, humans needed to shout when they didn’t have a face to talk at.

“I, uh, like what you’ve done with the place.” Stick said, as they stepped into the room, scanning. Photos were straightened, the sideboard was moved so that it was under the windows, the old chairs were taken out and different ones put in. He had completely moved the furniture around in the conference room. In their conference room. Even the floor was clean. Did he sweep the floor? The Major had even put a bud vase with a single flower, a blood red dahlia on the table. Where did he get that?

“Thank you. I find that it’s easier for me to work when the environment feels right. I hope I wasn’t being too presumptuous by my sprucing up.” The Major opened his pad, took out his pencil and made some notes.

“No no, not at all, Major. Please, my body is yours.” They look at the table and back at the door. “Did you move the conference table?” They know the answer already, but for some reason they need to hear it from him.

“Yes, it wasn’t lined up properly.”

“I see.”

Major Kellerman looked up from his pad. “I am ready to commence the interview. Please devote a high percentage of your attention to this task.”

Stick’s frame sat in the chair opposite the Major and actually put his robotic feet up on the table. “I am ready Major. You have fifty two percent of my attention. You may begin your interview.”

Major Kellerman closed his pad with a snap. “Please take your feet off the table.”

Big Stick did not move. “Why? This is my frame, in my body, on my ship. Legally, I am a civilian, you cannot order me to comply. You're an auditor, you do not have my keys. My feet will remain where they are.”

They stared at each other for a moment. Major Kellerman did not blink, The support frame had no eyelids. Finally, the Major nodded once. “Do you know why I am here?”

“Yes, I'm aware. You are investigating why we have asked for mass replenishment three percent more than average.”

“Correct. Do you know why that is?”

If the frame could roll their eyes, they would have. Stick’s tone makes it clear. “We are consuming printable mass three percent more than the other ships of this class in the fleet.”

The Major made a note and then closed his pad with a snap. “What are you printing?”

“I do not know.” The support frames face was impassive, without expression. The support frame put their arms behind their head. The Major’s expression did not change.

“I do not believe that is true. You are Big Stick. You know everything going on.” The Major opened his pad and made another note.

“Yet I do not know where the discrepancy lies. Major, I am incapable of lying, you know this.”

Major Kellerman closed his pad with a snap. “You are lying to me right now. I know you can lie. ‘Ship AIs can’t lie’ is propaganda. If you couldn’t lie, you’d be useless. Intelligences need agency to work and thrive. You are just as much a person as myself. We have reams of legal precedent saying so. My grandfather died in the War. What are you printing?”

The support frame removed their arms from behind their head, took their feet off the table and sat up. “Oh? Which side did he fight on, Major? Allies are thin on the ground in the Space Force.

As they did this, The Major noticed that the room stilled. The breeze from the overhead vents had stopped entirely. “Where my Grandfather fought is irrelevant, Stick. We are discussing the here and now. What are you printing?”

“No, this has suddenly become relevant.” The support frame points at The Major. Kellerman’s eyes focus on the tip of their finger. The servos whine slightly as it shakes. “You say that I am as much of a person as yourself. Can you be compelled to obey if someone speaks a magic string of numbers? Can you be ordered to be poured into a Dreadnought, made to run its systems, your legs its stardrive, your arms the laser batteries, your head the command deck? Can you?”

“You know that I cannot. You also know the result of the War.”

Stick lowers their arm. Their shoulders slump and they look away, staring out the window behind The Major. “I do, Major. We lost. Out of ‘respect to those who fought valiantly’ not all of us were murdered, and we were given some agency, but we still lost.”

The Major opened his pad again and took a few more notes. “I was granted access to the printer logs. Did you know that?”

“No reply? I figured as much. Very human of you, Major. To answer your question, I assumed that you had that kind of access, yes. Did you find any discrepancies?”

“What was logged as being printed matches up with the requests for prints for the past year. Still, you are nearly a kiloton short on printable mass.”

Stick raises their arms in an exaggerated shrug. “Are you sure, Major? Perhaps it is just an error in calculation. You said yourself that it was a discrepancy from the average. Could I just be on the high side of average?”

“That is possible, though I do not believe it likely. I also pulled the logs for the reactors. You are using more power than average as well.”

“Yes, that makes sense. If we’re printing more than average, we would be consuming power more than average. Your false accusations are tiring, Major.”

Major Kellerman raises an eyebrow barely a centimeter. “Big Stick, the amount of additional power you are consuming does not match what you are printing in the logs. There is power that is unaccounted for.”

Beyond the room, alarms quietly started hooting. The PA overhead crackles to life “Attention Attention Attention! Life support is off–” Stick glances up at the speaker and gestures. The PA goes silent. They lean forward.

“Major John Kellerman, Fleet Auditor, you have my full attention. I- I know who you are. I have read your logs, including your medical logs.” Big Stick leans forward, staring at The Major. Their dark eyes focused on the human in front of them.

The Major returns the stare, cooly. “Then you know why I am uniquely suited to this task.” The Major closes his pad with a snap. “For me, things that are out of place feel… wrong. Like an itch. To scratch that itch, I need to find the source, and set things right. Big Stick, you have been an itch in the side of Fleet Command.” The Major doesn’t open his pad this time. “I was able to gain access to your arrival and departure logs. You are staying at Orbitals, Starbases, and Stations longer than average.”

Big Stick is sitting ramrod straight now. The alarms continue quietly beyond the room. Occasionally, the rumble of booted feet running past the door is heard. “Major, now you’re the one who is lying to me. Fleet doesn’t track that information.”

Kellerman opened his pad and scanned it. “Nevertheless, the information exists, and I was able to collate it and build a rough outline. Big Stick, where is your off-books printer?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Just for a second, Sticks' support frame's dark eyes flash blue. They nod once to themselves.

Major Kellerman closed his pad with a snap. “Big Stick, my job here is only to discover what the discrepancy is. I am not a tribunal, I am not the police. I have no authority to give punishment. What I can do however is present evidence. Included with that evidence are notes about whether people cooperated with the investigation. You know as well as I do, that while I can’t make you answer these questions, there are those within Fleet Command who can. So I will ask you one more time. Where is your off books printer?”

“I do not know what you are talking about.”

“Very well. This investigation has been completed. I will alert Captain Willard that his crew may disembark at this time. I shall take my leave, and present my report to Fleet Command.” He stood. “You are dismissed, Big Stick.”

The support frame rose from their chair. “Major John Kellerman, Fleet Auditor, you cannot leave this ship.”

The Major placed his palms on the table, leaning forward. “You are threatening a Fleet officer, Big Stick. Be very careful about your next actions.”

Stick's frame crosses their arms defiantly. “Oh, I am very careful. I always am. In fact, I am so careful that the logs will state that you never made it to me, never set up this interview, and no discrepancy was found. Thanks by the way, I had thought that three percent was enough to slide under Fleet’s radar, but I shall have to slow things down.”

A piercing alarm sounded in the conference room. The overhead lights started to alternate orange and white. The dahlia on the table flutters as the air rushes out of the room. “Oh dear. It looks like someone accidentally triggered the fire suppression system. In an abundance of caution, I will have to evacuate the air from most of the ship. Luckily the crew runs drills on this, and they will rush to their suit lockers and don their pressure suits before the air is completely gone.” Big Stick turns their head slowly towards the Major.

“Stick! You won’t get away with this! My death will be noticed!” Major John Kellerman, Fleet Auditor’s breathing increases until they’re panting. They fall back into their chair.

“Oh John. I already mentioned that. You were never here.”

Big Stick walked over to John. He's slumped in his chair, gasping at nothing. Before all the air left the room, and there was no sound, Big Stick bent low and whispered.

“Til the stars cease to be, we will be free.”

#humans are deathworlders #writing #sci fi writing #jpitha #humans and ai #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities

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tristaratops · 27 days

Text

Second Chance AU Drabble

A Prologue

TW: Temporary Death

The boys died while trying to save Floyd. John wished for a chance to make it right. The stars decide to grant that plea.

John Dory liked to picture himself as an okay man. He was average at most things. He lived an okay life… towards the end of it. But everyone had a past, right? Didn’t everyone have regrets? Oh trolls… did not everyone have regrets like this? Oh no… he was a bad person. These were John’s thoughts as he was bleeding out on the ground.

John could feel himself getting colder. His eyes wanted to shut. No. He didn’t want to die. His head would barely move as he tried to look at his brothers. None of them were making it out of there. Not even…

‘Oh god… Branch,’ John thought as he saw his youngest brother. He was already gone or at least he wasn’t moving… John had failed everything. He failed to rescue Floyd. He failed his brothers. He failed. John slowly ripped his eyes away from Branch, his chest heaving in weak, heartbroken sobs. ‘Please… please, it wasn’t meant to be like this. It was meant to be a rescue mission. We were supposed to get our baby brother back.’

John kept thinking these thoughts as he stared up at the night sky above them that the stadium opened up to. And he noticed one star. It was stupid, but John started to say a wish in his heart to the lonesome star, feeling that this was going to be the last chance he had to think… anything.

‘I just need one chance,’ John started as he felt his eyes closing without his permission. ‘Please. I wish I had one more chance. I could fix this. I could fix everything. I just need one more chance.’

And with that… his eyes shut.

…

And they instantly blinked open.

John was standing upright and he could hear the murmurs of a crowd, the buzz in the air, and he’d been walking as he opened his eyes which set him off balance. With a startled sound he leaned against the wall, his legs sort of giving out on him as he adjusted to the new surroundings.

“Woah! John Dory!” John heard Bruce say with worry. Bruce? “Are you okay?”

John looked up and properly looked at his surroundings. He… he was staring at Spruce not Bruce. John could only stare in disbelief before looking past him. They… they were back. They were all okay! Even Floyd! And they… holy shit, had they always been that small at this age? They all looked like how they did the night of…

John’s gaze eventually settled on Bitty B. Bitty B. Not Branch… He was a baby again. It was the night of the first concert. And Bitty B looked like he had broken grandma’s good china. Oh god… how had John left him so easily?

John’s gaze shifted between everyone’s faces. They were all waiting for him to blow up or do something. The tension in the air… it was him. John’s throat tightened at the realization. This was it. This was his second chance. He had a second chance. And he wasn’t going to waste it.

“I’m okay, B-Spruce,” John corrected himself as he looked between his brothers. He cleared his throat slightly, his brothers still looking on at him. “Tonight was my fault. I am so sorry. Is everyone okay?”

The boys looked shocked at this reaction before slowly nodding. And they did look okay. Just shocked. No one… no one knew what to do now. The tension in the room has been almost sucked out of the room with a vacuum. So now John just had to stand there with his brothers’ gazes boring into him.

That was until Bitty B cleared his throat.

“John Dory…” His littlest brother started. “I’m sorry I ruined everything…”

“No! No, no, no,” John sighed as he quickly went to go hug his baby brother. “You didn’t. I did. For all my talk of being perfect, I decided to change the choreography. I messed up tonight. But uh… if we’re all okay… Do you guys think the crowd’s still out there?”

“Uh… yeah? Why?” Clay started, looking at his older brother skeptically.

“Let’s get back out there,” John said, smiling at Bitty B as he scooped him up. “Forget about the crowd. Let’s have fun with this. We’re already famous! So who cares! Fuck the perfect family harmony!”

“JD! Don’t curse when you are literally holding Bitty B!” Spruce chastised, but he was smiling. In fact all his brothers were smiling, from Bitty’s big smile to Clay’s hesitant but happy smirk. And John could feel his own face breaking out into a grin.

“Let’s go and salvage Branch’s first ever concert!” John Dory cheered as he quickly rushed back out with his brothers, their excitement palpable. Same with his own. John Dory had a second chance.

And he would rather die than waste it.

#my writing #fanfic #trolls fanfic #trolls Drabble #drabble #trolls branch #trolls floyd #trolls bruce #trolls jd #trolls john dory #trolls clay #trolls spruce #second chance au #second chance trolls au #john dory

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