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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 3 months

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Week 1-4: Yandere Apocalypse - Uvil Penz

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Getting to meet everyone was nice and all but it’s entirely different from living with them

When it comes to sleeping arrangements the Penz brother’s each had their own rooms

Naturally Marco was sharing with Aria

Willaim with Simpson

Leaving Uvil who speedily offered to room with you

“If you wouldn’t mind (Y/n), maybe you should stay with me.”

Of course Henrietta and Grant would have a problem with this

Both of them whining about the other as you let Uvil usher you away from the living room

“C’mon don’t leave me with this crazy broad!”

“Nooo! But (Y/n) reminds me the most of my baby! I need to sleep with them! THIS IS SO UNFAIR-”

With the clicks of multiple locks he decides you both are ready to turn in for the night

“Just for safety. After all you don’t really know these…strangers yet.”

“Uh thanks.”

You try to ignore the fact you don’t really know him either

But with a sporadically themed bedroom with two beds and a full bathroom, you’re not complaining

Because of your closeness with one another it’s natural as tiredness tugs at your eyes that you confide in him

“I for one, am glad you survived. I’m sorry for the emptyiness you feel but I think you’ve filled something for all of us…especially me.”

It’s nice when he says sweet things to you

And when he leads the group with grace

Or when he makes a fair meal plan for everyone to follow with the refrigerated and canned rations

…it just gets weird when he so easily adapts to the invasive demands of the group

Siphoning your time like some prized toy

“(Y/n) will not be drinking from you for at least another day…your behavior with the food rations is to blame.”

“THAT IS SO UNFAIR!WAAAAHHH!”

“Ha weird idiot, instead they’ll have to endure my ultimate smackdown…in the gaming room.”

“No to you too little brother.”

“What?! What did I do!?”

“Marco says you made Aria cry and he refused to operate the drones we have outside because of that. Thus you’ve lost your (Y/n)-privileges.”

“That’s….so unfair...”

Of course he doesn’t bother to ask you at all despite how polite he is pretends to be

But he has no problem intertwining his hand with yours while he goes around the bunker taking inventory

Or encouraging you to watch movies while cuddled up beside him

Its not so bad

It’s a great way to get used to the bunker life

With Uvil’s guidance you’ll start to get used to this new way of life

And by the end of the 2nd week you’re starting to find your way on your own

But Uvil will never let that happen

Still hovering around you and monitoring your time despite your independence

“Space? (Y/n) you’re my dearest bunker-mate, of course I worry about you.”

It’s annoying but he’s far from the worst person in the bunker

Unbeknownst to you, Uvil’s only the best at hiding his obsession with you

When he’s not by your side he’s watching the cameras intensely for everyone’s movements

3 monitors dedicated to you

What camera room?

The camera room only the Penz brothers seem to know about and none of them will confess

Not only being your most devoted watcher he’s the only one free enough to suffocate on the sheets you slept in

To touch keep the dirty laundry you share with him

Or the access he gets to your journal entries

But the best thing of all is the closeness he’s granted as your first real friend

“(Y/n) would you like a massage while we watch a horror movie? I know you’ve been feeling tense lately and I want nothing more than to help you relieve that.”

He knows a month is all he’ll get away with

Before the others start to riot

But this will be enough…for now

“I’m going to miss you (Y/n)...but it’s a small cycle. You’ll be back with me before you notice. And you’ll always find a safe space in my bed room.”

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere #yanderes #yandere harem #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc x you #yandere oc x y/n #yandere uvil penz #yandere apocalypse #yandere original characters #yandere original character #yandere apocalypse oc x reader #yandere apocalypse bunker

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starboundpix · 5 months

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i. (love is) a gift

you just want a regular scarecrow. not whatever this shiny metal scarecrow-esque thing is. too bad your aunt didn't get the memo.

daycare attendant x reader ✧ 1.3k words farm au, gender neutral reader, reader is a farmer, lots of pets and animals, reader does some heavy lifting

note: this is the first writing piece I'm posting for the fnaf fandom! my roommates have been dragging me down this hole the entire semester, so here I am >.< I hope you enjoy!

When you mentioned to your aunt in passing that you desperately need a scarecrow because the birds keep ruining your newly planted garden, you didn’t think she paid that much attention to you. She must have been listening and decided to use her rich aunt privileges because here you are in your barn, ankle deep in packaging paper and hay, staring at a large wooden crate turned on its side, jaw dropping at the sight of gold and light yellow metal spilling out of the opening.

This most definitely is not the kind of scarecrow you were planning to purchase.

A brief search through the packaging paper in the crate reveals a thin booklet titled Farm Helper Manual. The cover depicts two cartoon characters: one in the same coloration as your metal scarecrow and the other in varying shades of blue and black with highlights of a soft silvery-grey. They are like the sun and moon personified and their fun poses within the stalks of corn evoke a bit of amusement that breaks up the shock that had settled in.

You start flipping through the pages, skimming the titles and headers. You just want to find out how to set the scarecrow up because you don’t think mounting it on a wooden pole in the traditional fashion would work out.

“‘Battery and operation,’” you read out loud. One of your chickens clucks at you in response, then pecks the scarecrow, beak glancing off metal with a plink. “Henrietta! Don’t dent my scarecrow.” You wave your hand at the red-feathered hen and she ruffles her wings, disgruntled, settling a few steps away. Sighing, you keep reading the page. “‘Your farm helper-’ cute term for a scarecrow, ‘-is both solar powered and battery powered. Once fully charged, it will operate for 48 hours before reaching low-power mode and has three more hours before shutting off completely.’ What, is that it?”

A quick flip through the rest of the pages doesn’t reveal anything about how to set the scarecrow up, which is extremely unhelpful.

Tossing the booklet to the side, you move to stand before the crate, hands on your hips as you eye the mass of metal enrobed in rather sad, brown, sack-like cloth. Well if the book won’t tell you much, you can figure this out yourself. You’ve been able to fix the machines and tools you need for farmwork, so you certainly can set this metal scarecrow up in your garden. You hope.

This scarecrow is so. Immensely. Heavy.

Your shoulders and arms ache terribly from the odd combination of carrying, pushing, and pulling that is necessary to get the scarecrow into your wheelbarrow. It doesn’t get any easier when you have to lift the wheelbarrow scant inches off the ground to push it to your garden, careful to avoid the fresh green and yellow sprouts of vegetables and herbs.

Now, you have the miserable task of somehow getting this hunk of metal out of the wheelbarrow and set up to charge under the sunlight.

After staring at it for a moment, you make the short trip to your house and grab a chair from the wrap-around porch, awkwardly shuffle-walking with it in your arms until you return to the wheelbarrow. You set the chair down, wiggling it until the legs sink a bit into the dirt to make sure it won’t topple over.

“Okay, let’s do this,” you tell yourself, shaking out your arms to prepare for the difficult task ahead.

First, you move the scarecrow’s legs over the edge of the wheelbarrow, each limb weighing just as much as your large Australian Shepherd who has wandered over to witness your struggles.

You pause to rub your dog’s side when he stops by your feet, his tongue out and tail wagging. “Come to laugh at me, Pluto?” He barks once, sharp and short, before leaving you to lay down on the dirt a bit away from the chair.

Smiling at him, you continue on with your task. You pull the scarecrow’s arms to rest over your shoulders, and after a moment to catch your breath, you heave your weight forward, pulling with all your might. For a moment, you think that the scarecrow will not budge. But the weight starts to get heavier and heavier on your shoulders, the wheelbarrow falls onto its side, and the entire weight of this scarecrow is pressing down on you.

You stumble forward, then find enough balance to walk the three steps needed to get to the chair. Quickly, you shrug the scarecrow’s arms off your shoulders and lean back until you hear the scraping of metal and fabric on wood and suddenly feel infinitely lighter.

Air whooshes past your lips in an exhale. Rolling your shoulders helps to ease some of the pain and tension that has gathered in your arms, but you surely will feel the ache for the next few days. You’re used to the hard labor of farm work, sure, but you rarely have to lift this much weight at once. Why on earth did they make a scarecrow this heavy?

Turning around, your eyes grow wide when you take in the present from your aunt. “Oh, wow.”

Under the bright golden sunlight of a warm spring afternoon, the scarecrow is glorious despite the rough burlap sack covering the torso. There are so many fine details, more than you’d ever expect the manufacturers to include. Individual knuckle joints are coated in a shimmery light yellow paint, the same color as what you can see of the metal torso. The arms have beautifully intricate designs of vines and flowers, twining from wrist to shoulder joint, that are the slightest bit darker than the yellow so the markings are only visible when the sunlight hits them at a certain angle. The scarecrow’s face is split in two colors—that light yellow on the left and a deeper golden hue on the right—which curves to form a crescent. You wonder what colors the eyes and mouth would be, but they’re all closed, giving the scarecrow a serene expression. To finish off the wonderful craftsmanship, a set of triangular spikes crown the scarecrow’s face, starting in that deep gold and fading away to the light shimmery yellow at the tip.

“You’re like the sun,” you murmur. “Sun the scarecrow.”

Proud of your naming skills, you take the time to properly position Sun in the chair, hoping that the battery will charge properly under the bright afternoon light. As you stand, you pat the scarecrow on the chest. “Please protect my garden for me, Sun. Don’t let the birds eat the seeds and sprouts.”

Turning away and feeling very pleased at your new addition to the garden, you call, “Pluto!” and snap your fingers twice. Your dog shakes dirt off his dappled coppery-brown fur before bounding toward you. The two of you return home, have a peaceful afternoon as you complete the necessary chores and enjoy dinner as the chill of a typical spring night starts to set in.

Late into the night, long after you have gone to bed, the scarecrow opens his eyes. They shine with a soft white light, cutting through the dark. He is deep blue and obsidian, with the night sky embedded into his arms in a soft silver that emanates the faintest light. His head, now devoid of spikes, swivels as he takes in his surroundings.

This place is unfamiliar to him—to them. It is a relief.

Knowing that there are no immediate dangers to them, he settles back into the chair. He does not know why he has been placed here in the garden, but is sure that his counterpart will find out tomorrow. For now, he will stay on guard but enter low power mode to conserve energy as they have not fully charged, and will leave his exploration of this new territory to tomorrow night.

He will keep watch until morning.

note: the plan is for this to be a little drabble or mini series whenever I feel inspired to add a new part! it's also a little side project for fun as I work on a larger piece hehe. I'd love to hear what you think about this first part! (especially because there's a second part in the works already ^u^)

series masterlist ✧ part two

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lizpaige · 3 months

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snippet sunday

i have many half written beginnings of ideas that i may or may not come back to so why not share them on a wip/snippet sharing post?

“Your boy is calling.”

Ronan sat up on the couch just in time to catch his phone from Hennessy tossing it to him. He answered the call immediately.

“Hey.”

Hennessy threw a pillow at him, whacking him in the head. Ronan grabbed it and threw it back at her, getting up to duck out of the room. They were in Ronan’s new apartment, Ronan and Adam’s new apartment starting tomorrow when Adam moved out of the dorms. It was the end of the school year and Adam was transferring to Georgetown in the fall.

“Hey.” Adam’s voice always seemed to warm him up. There was a lot of noise on the other end.

“What’s happening over there?”

A puff of air blew into the phone. “Party. Finals are over. Everyone’s door is open on my floor and they dumped all their leftover alcohol in this big plastic storage bin and they’ve been passing it around.”

“Nice.”

“Yeah, it’s really not that bad.”

“You’re drinking that toxic waste? That’s hardcore, Parrish.”

“Yeah, well…” Ronan could hear the sound of a door shutting and the cacophony of dorm room celebration became muffled. “They don’t really take no for an answer. I’m hiding in my room trying to pack. What were you doing?”

Now that he could really hear him, Ronan picked up on Adam’s accent, in full swing, dropping the ends of words, melodic in its cadence, dipping low and swaying up high. There were only a few times when Adam would let his Henrietta accent back in. When he was very tired, which was possible since he had just worked his ass off with exams. When he was alone with Ronan or close friends, because he didn’t try to hide it from those he trusted. Or on the very rare occasion that he was under the influence. Ronan got him high once and could barely even understand Adam, he was too turned on to try and decipher whatever he was saying.

Adam rarely drank, so Ronan rarely received any drunk texts or calls. Ronan didn’t really drink either anymore. For Adam’s birthday last year, Gansey, Henry, and Blue came to the Barns and they had a big barbeque, fire pit, and Ronan fixed up a dreamt projector to show some shitty action movies on the side of the long barn. Ronan drank a little, Adam drank a little more. He was tipsy at best, but ended up falling asleep in Ronan’s lap in front of everyone by the end of the night.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

Ronan bit back a smile at the dropped ‘g’. “Just hanging out with Hennessy. Why’d you call?”

“I don’t know.” A pause… and then, “just missed you.”

Ronan bit back a smile. “Missed me, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“You a little tipsy there?”

“No,” Adam answered too fast, as if his voice wasn’t incriminating enough.

#ronan lynch #adam parrish #pynch #snippet sunday

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f4iryyuiirz · 3 months

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༊*·˚ ᶜʰᵃᵖᵗᵉʳ ᴼⁿᵉ ⁻ ᴰᵉᵃᵈ ᴰᵒᵛᵉ: ᴰᵒ ᴺᵒᵗ ᴱᵃᵗ .ೃ࿐

masterlist

Word Count: 3k

Date Written: 16/02/24

Disclaimer: I do not condone any of the acts that happen in the story in real life. Please do not romanticize any behaviors or actions described in this story in the real world.

Warnings: Death, Mentioned attempted murder.

— — — — ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ — — — —

: ̗̀➛ “Why don’t you talk to me? I’m your mother. I’m here to help you.” You didn’t even bother looking at the woman sitting on the edge of your bed. How could she say that? Yes, she biologically gave birth to you, but she wasn’t the one to take care of you when you’re sick, comfort you when you feel upset, or even help you around the house. No, she was too busy out getting drunk with her friends to do that. “Maybe because I don’t trust you?” Your voice came out a bit coarse as you just laid on your bed. You hadn’t talked in a while—since the last night, to be exact.

: ̗̀➛ You were already an hour late for school; usually around this time you would have met with Evie or something. But you just couldn’t get out of bed. Luckily, someone knocked at the front door. Or, more like, banged. “You see? Even your friends are looking for you.” Your mother, Kelly, would say as she went down stairs to let whoever was knocking in. It was probably Michael or Henrietta. As the door opened, you would realize none of your guesses were correct as you heard your mother say, “Strange. No one’s here.”

: ̗̀➛ She would then walk upstairs, back to you again, before sitting next to you and opening her arms. You, to her surprise, would actually take the offer. “Honey, I’m so sorry. I swear, I’m trying to get better. And so is your dad. Please, you just have to trust us once. I promise.” She would say this as she hugged you and kissed the crown of your head. “Just a few weeks, we’ll be better. Maybe not back to normal, but normal enough. Okay?” You would just nod as you let a few tears escape.

: ̗̀➛ “Now, come on, baby. You need to go to school and be the star I know you can be, okay? First day of tenth grade!” She would kiss your forehead. But as soon as she backed away, she saw you start feeling nervous. “Hey.. It’s okay. I know it’s a bit scary, but you’ve done it before, right?” She said this as you nodded against her neck. She then finally let you go. “Now come on. My baby girl needs to get ready. You’re already thirty minutes late for orientation.” She would say this as she went down the stairs.

: ̗̀➛ You took the cup of water your mom left you before you went to sleep and drank it. It was warm, but nothing to stop your throat from being so sore. Once you finished, you stood up and wrapped yourself in a gown before going into the bathroom. Quickly taking a shower—more like just letting the water run down you without really doing anything—and brushing your teeth. You then picked out the first things you saw. Long jeans, a black long-sleeved tee, and short black uggs. You didn’t really do much with your hair; you just put earmuffs on top.

: ̗̀➛ Then you went downstairs, you were about to see your dad but remembered that he had already gone to work. Since you were already late, you just took an energy bar and got your phone. You texted Henri since she was the only person you knew who could drive and had a car. A few minutes later, she texted you back say ‘see u in 3’ you then placed your phone in your pocket and sat on the porch chairs. Almost exactly three minutes later, you see a bright red car pull up with someone wearing all black inside.

: ̗̀➛ “Get in.” She would yell, since she was pretty far from you. You took your bookbag that you left at the side of your chair and got into the car. “What’s with all the color?” You ask as you put on your seatbelt. “It’s my dad’s car. Mine had to go for repairs. God, it’s so bright. I feel like I want to claw my eyes out with my nails.” She said this as she started the engine. She then made a U-turn before driving back to the main street leading to South Park High. “Thanks for the ride.” You whispered as you leaned on the closed window, trying to relax because you barely got any sleep the night before. “No problem. It’s better than riding back seat with that little brat I have to call my brother.” She would, in her usually gloomy tone.

: ̗̀➛ After fifteen minutes, you were shook awake by Henri. “We’re here.” She said this as she parked the car near where the goths usually hang out. You unbuckled your seatbelt and got out of the car. You saw Michael and Pete. Firkle was probably at sixth grade meet-and-greets. Pete was on his phone as he complained about something, and Michael would just smoke a cigarette. “What’s up, guys?” You asked them as you sat next to them. “Nothing. I just thought you wouldn’t make it.” Michael would as well keep smoking his cigarette, not looking directly at you.

: ̗̀➛ “If I didn’t know any better, I would think that you actually cared about me.” You said this as he rolled his eyes. “Well, you thought wrong.” You would scoff before reaching out your hand to him. He would take the hint and bring out his pack. He placed one in your hand and handed you the lighter as well. You lit your cigarette and handed him the light before smoking a puff of your own. “There’s a party at Wendy’s tonight. Think we should go?” Henri asked as she went through her texts. “Why would we want to hang out with a bunch of conformists?” Pete would ask.

: ̗̀➛ “I mean, if we went, we could make fun of how fake they are.” You responded as you rubbed your cigarette onto the pavement next to you because you were finished. Michael just shrugged, and Pete would just nod slightly. “Fair point.” He said before you all stopped talking all together before the bell rang a few minutes later. “So, it’s settled? We’re all going to the party later.” Henrietta nodded as Michael would just shrug again and Pete would say “Whatever.” as you all parted ways.

: ̗̀➛ You only had one class left until you were free to do whatever. You walked through the halls; it felt like it was becoming smaller and smaller. ‘First-day jitters’ your mom would call them. Your mom… You remembered the first day of elementary school in South Park. You moved when you were eight. You remember meeting Cartman and his mom. She was nice-ish. Well, she did spoil her son, but not exactly in a good way. You were interrupted in your thoughts by someone bumping into you. Right. You were still walking to class; you needed to focus. You walked in before the bell finished ringing, sitting at your assigned desk.

: ̗̀➛ Ah, here comes your desk partner now. Craig Tucker. The second most popular boy at school. The pitcher of the baseball team. “Sorry for your loss, man. I didn’t think he’d die like that.” One of Craig’s fanboys would say this before heading back to his seat. Craig just ignored the boy as he wrote the date at the top of his notes. “Hey.. Conformist. What happened?” Craig would just sigh as he stopped writing and placed his pencil down. He then turned to you and stared at you without saying anything before you tried to go back to what the teacher wrote on the chalk. He decided to finally speak.

: ̗̀➛ “Tweek tried to kill me when I broke up with him. I called the cops, and he went to jail. A few days ago, I found out he got beat up. He didn’t make it.” He would say he was emotionless, but it wasn’t like he was really full of emotion. Tweek was alive. “Chirst. Sorry.” You would say. Strangely—not really strangely, but for you, it was strange—you felt a bit bad for him. His ex just died, and he has to go back to school as if nothing even happened. But at least he wasn’t letting it get to him. When he finished talking, he just turned back to his desk and kept writing. So did you.

: ̗̀➛ After class, you figured you’d just go home and try to take a nap until the party. You grabbed your bookbag and waved Henri and them goodbye before walking home. It helped waste time, and it got you tired enough to actually want to sleep. When you got home, no one was there. Of course not. At least you knew they were out working instead of doing other things. When you went to the kitchen, you saw cut-up fried potatoes, which had to have been fried in an air fryer, brown rice, zucchini and green beans on the side, and grilled chicken breasts. You took a bite out of the chicken. And of course, it was vegan.

: ̗̀➛ You sighed slightly before getting a text. You grab your phone and check while trying to sit on the tall fancy stools your mom bought when she got the house. It was still too big for you. When you finally got on, you saw the message from Pete. ‘b at wendy’s by 10pm. it’s starting early.’ The text read. You would just send a thumbs up before you put your phone down and eat in silence. Once you were done, you placed the dishes in the sink, still feeling too tired to wash them. You went up the stairs to take a nap and placed a timer for nine. It wasn’t like you had much prep to do for yourself. You would just change your outfit to something more slutty.

: ̗̀➛ Once you got to your room, you would plop onto your bed face first. You then turned into a more comfortable position and fell asleep within a few minutes. You woke up hours later feeling a bit groggy, but shook it off. You got out of bed before going to the bathroom and brushing your teeth before washing your face. You would also think about adding make-up, but that would cause too many break-outs. Your mom only bought the non-allergic kind, and it was only lip gloss. So you just add that and some eyeliner.

: ̗̀➛ Once you were done there, you put on a black tight-fitting crop top with noodle straps, and it was loose around the clevage. It was slutty enough for me to get into the party without becoming one of them. You also wore the same jeans you wore in the morning with black platform boots. You decide to just put your hair in a low ponytail. When you finished, you took out your phone and texted Henri to come pick you up. You went down the stairs and waited on the couch for her text. You would just watch TV; it was just some crappy reboot of a crappy old show, but it’s not like you had much else to do. A few minutes later, you heard the sound of aggressive honking coming from outside before getting a text.

: ̗̀➛ You walked outside to find Henri, Pete, and Michael in the same bright red car you rode in before. “Get in, frontseat.” Henri would yell because she was pretty far away. You got into the front seat and tied your seatbelt. “So, everyone is ready?” You asked as you checked your phone for the time. It was almost ten o’clock. Everyone would just groan, but you knew it meant everything was fine. Henri would start the car and start driving to Wendy’s house. Like you, Wendy was one of the richest girls at school. Unlike you, however, she actually knew how to use her riches to her advantage. She is now known as the most popular girl at school. It’s not like you cared about your family’s money, but it wasn’t that you weren’t grateful either. You just felt empty. Numb. Sure, you could try to ‘fill the void’ with money, clothes, and diamonds, but what’s the point in that? You would just end up just as shallow and superficial as the ‘popular girls’.

: ̗̀➛ While you went on that tangent in your head, the car finally came to a stop. There you were. At the party. You got out with everyone and walked in. Immediately, you’re met with booze, people making out, and ear-bleedingly loud music. “God, I regret coming here.” Michael would groan as he just decided to go outside, near the pool. The music wasn’t as loud there. Henri followed the booze, and Pete... He just kind of stood there. Maybe he was overwhelmed. You decided to just follow Michael’s lead and go near the pool. You decided to stand next to him so you wouldn’t be close to anyone. “You’re in my personal bubble.” He said this as he sipped a bit of beer from his can. “Sorry." “It’s fine. I don’t really mind.” He would say this before turning to you. “Are we going to talk about what happened last week?” He asked.

: ̗̀➛ You kind of froze up. You didn’t think he would actually bring it up. Even if you were alone. “Um, I thought you didn’t want to talk about it. We were both just really drunk. You said this, stiffly holding your drink. You were kind of hoping this whole thing would blow over. “Whatever. If you don’t want to talk about it, It’s fine. But when you do, Text me.” He said as he was about to leave. “Wait.. Meet me in the closet in five.” You said that as you left to go to the closet. When you got there, you locked the door as you waited for Michael to come back. After around fifteen minutes, someone finally knocked on the door. You opened it and dragged him in. “God, what took you so long? I said in five, not in five hours.” You complained as you leaned on the wall.

: ̗̀➛ “Well, be more specific. There’s like fifteen closets in this whole house... So… What did you want to say?” He asked. “I don’t want.. It will ruin our sort of friendship." You whispered, hoping no one would hear. You started feeling overwhelmed by the whole situation and felt like you needed to be alone. “I have to go. I’ll text you.” You said this as you went out of the closet and went upstairs. You doubted anyone would be on the balcony, and you could barely hear the music because you were so high up. And as weird as you might find it, you actually wanted to be able to hear your own thoughts again. You quickly came up with a can of beer and some weed. What? Something to help you relax.

: ̗̀➛ You sat in one of the fancy chairs and placed your can on the table with the marijuana brownies that were in the plastic. You then saw the famous redhead. Red Tucker. Basically, Wendy's a bitch. She seemed pretty drunk, but you still didn’t expect her to sit next to you. “Hi. You new here?” She would say this as she wobbled in her chair. She could barely even keep her eyes open. “No. I went here since elementary school. I literally grew up with you.” You said, slightly offended, that someone with whom you spent so much time didn’t remember you, but it could also be because she was wasted.

: ̗̀➛ “Oh.. I didn’t recognize you because you looked so different. In a good way. Like, you somehow look hot." What a backhanded compliment! “Uh… Thanks?”, “No prob. You know, if you dressed better and acted normal, you would be pretty good to hang out with.” She said she reached for a brownie. “Could I have one? I’m hella stressed.” You would just nod your head as she took one and bit into it. “Mm, this is really good. You know, you should give the recipe some time. And maybe we could hang out or something.” She mumbled as she finished the brownie. “You should eat one. You look constipated.” She said as she took another one, but this time she moved it in the font of your face, like a parent with their child when feeding them. “Open up.” You did as she asked you to and bit into the brownie.

: ̗̀➛ Being the lightweight you were, you immediately get higher than clouds at even one bite. A few minutes later, you were on Red’s lap as she fed you brownies. “You know, Wendy’s a whore. She acts like I’m just her servant who’ll do anything she wants just because she asks me to. It’s totally unfair.” She would hick in the middle of her sentence before she lifted you off. “You know what we should do? Truth or dare. And since you’re the highest, You go first. Truth or dare?" She asked you. “Dare.” “Good, I dare you to sit on the railings.” She dared you as she drank your beer. “What? I’ll fall.” “No, you won’t. If you want people to stop thinking you’re a pussy, Do it.” She told you. It’s not like you could argue with her. So you just did it.

: ̗̀➛ You used your chair to get onto the railing, and Red took the chair from under you while still helping you balance until you were okay. “Now, let go. Trust me, you'll feel better.” She said this as she backed away from you a bit. “Okay.” You whimpered, as you didn’t exactly want to die. You removed your hands from the railing. And nothing happened. You stayed still, barely moving an inch. “There, see how easy that was. Now, I’ll be back. I’m getting us some more booze.” She said this before she left. You were now relaxing at the edge of a 4-story building. Surprisingly, you didn’t feel scared anymore. You were at peace. For the most part, anyway.

: ̗̀➛ Red was still busy getting drinks while she bumped into a cute guy. “Shit. You look hot.” The guy would say, ‘Hot.’ Was all Red thought as she forgot about the drinks and made out with him? Which led to... other things. As much as it was pretty annoying that she just left like that, you were finally alone with your thoughts. Until you felt your jeans slip on the sliver rod. You were about to fall, but you caught yourself with your hand just in time. You climbed up to the rod again, but this time, your platforms would slip and...

SPLAT!

And just like that, you were gone. Dead, at sixteen.

─── ⋆⋅☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆⋅⋆ ───

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flavored-soda · 29 days

Text

ok i’m talk about hen because god, i love her.

henrietta wilson and her character and storyline is very personal to me. without giving too much away about my personal life, she is very very similar to my sister. so its safe to say, she has my whole heart.

a lot of the talk (on my feed) lately around 7x04 and 7x05 has been about buck, which is fair, and you create your own feed yada yada. but i wanna talk about hen and her storyline(s) this season.

i will preface this by once again saying that hen’s character means a lot to me because she reminds me so much of my sister, so i’m going to have bias, and my view is going to be different and probably very opinionated and i’m aware of that.

we’re gonna start with the things i’m loving so far this season:

the first being that i love captain hen. it makes so much sense to me that hen would be the one to fill in for bobby (i can elaborate on that if y’all want just scream at me in my asks).

i love that we are seeing more interactions between hen and maddie. i think it’s really important that we see their relationship not only because maddie is chimney’s wife, but also because she’s buck’s sister. and hen obviously cares about the both of them so much, so to see hen interacting with the people that love the people she loves is mwuah so good!

the current henren storyline is so important. i love love love their growth as foster parents and i think mara’s story is going to be equally heartbreaking and heartwarming. i’m just excited to see how she fits into the wilson family.

now the things i’m not loving:

the fact that maddie was the one to call everyone in instead of hen. i feel like hen has never been wrong when it comes to her gut?? i can understand the fact that if she was going to get in trouble, she was just going to get herself alone in trouble, but have we not learned by now that there is strength in numbers?

the henren and mara storyline being put in 7x05. i’ve said before that 7x05 felt very rushed and i don’t like that there were three major storylines packed into one episode on top of the calls that the team goes on. in general i would’ve liked to see all the storylines in 7x05 be in their own episode with the calls instead of the chaos and the rush that is the 7x05. but the mara storyline is definitely one i’m invested in and i would love to see it handled with care and not rushed like the entirety of the latest episode was.

finally what i would like to see for hen, henren, and the wilson family in general:

i want to see more maddie and hen scenes. and more henren and madney scenes. we get a lot of emotional and hilarious screen time with chimney and hen but we don’t really see them interact with each other’s families outside of the 118. i would just love to see more of that. especially since both henren and madney have kids and i just want to see something that shows the parents of show interacting.

and to piggyback off of that, i want to see more eddie and hen!!! we don’t see much of their relationship but i think it makes sense the two would be close and hang out outside of work especially because denny and chris are close in age. once again, i just want to see the parents of the show interact more outside of calls.

now i’m gonna bring buck into this. i would love to see a scene between buck and hen regarding buck coming out. i just know would be so nurturing and supportive but also ready to tease the hell out of him especially after hearing how the first bucktommy date went.

lastly, i want to see how mara’s story plays out more than anything. it’s not going to be easy and i am so looking forward to the angst of it all but also the fluff and growth of hen’s character and the entire wilson family.

that’s majority of it (i have so many thoughts about hen, but they’re personal since she does remind me of my sister) but please feel free to come scream with me in my asks!!

#911 abc #henrietta wilson #henrietta hen wilson #hen wilson #henren #karen wilson #denny wilson #the wilson family #911 #911 on abc #911 season 7 episode 5 #911 season 7 #911 s7 #911 show

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spgothkidsheadcanons · 1 year

Text

Goths taking care of s/o when they’re sick

Henrietta:

- MAMA HEN ALERT

- I REPEAT, MAMA HEN ALERT

- She’s all over you, fussing at you whenever you try to do something yourself

- She literally babysits you and makes sure that you have absolutely everything you need

- Medicine? Check

- Water? Check

- That one really good soup you love from the restaurant all the way across town? You bet she’s getting in the car and making the trek to get you that soup

- She loves you and she’ll do anything for you

- Please just let her baby you, it’s in her blood to make sure that you feel good at all times

You were laying face down in your bed, stripped down to a tank top and a pair of shorts to escape the heat from your fever. The covers of your bed covered one half of your body, trying to keep a happy medium between being hot and cold. Henrietta sat in a chair by your bed side, one hand rubbing circles on the exposed skin of your back and the other scrolling through a remedies list on her phone. She had not left your side since you started sniffling last night. When you woke up this morning hacking up your lungs, she jumped out of bed and got you every kind of medicine you might need to get you through the day.

You picked your head up, your hair sticking to your sweaty forehead, throat burning like fire and only being able to semi breathe through one nostril. Turning to look at her, your laid your head back down, your eyes studying her as she intently scrolled on her phone. You smiled at her. The medicine she had given you just a little bit ago had made you loopy, and all you wanted to do was sit there and stare at her.

“Henri, I love you.” you squeaked, voice sore from your multiple coughing fits. She looked to you, giving you a soft smile. “I love you, too.” she responded, looking back to her phone. “No, I really do love you. You’re seeing me at my worst.” you added, closing your eyes as exhaustion started to set into your body. She laughed, rolling her eyes. “Trust me, this isn’t your worst. I was there on your 21st birthday.” she responded, setting her phone down and turning to look at you. You cringed as you remembered how drunk you got that night, barely able to make it inside your home before you tossed your cookies.

Her hand moved from your back, causing you to whine at the loss of her touch. She stood from her chair, making her way to the side of the bed that wasn’t occupied. Henrietta pulled the covers back, sliding into the bed beside you. You waited until she made herself comfortable before you turned on your side and slid closer to her, lazily wrapping an arm around her. She ran her fingers through your hair, smoothing the strands that stuck to your forehead. Your eyes closed, and soon, you were knocked out, holding onto your girlfriend like your life depended on it.

Michael:

- Michael is another baby-er

- If he was on tour, he’d send his parents over to go check on you and make sure you were doing okay

- If he was in the studio, he was immediately driving to you to personally take care of you

- He cuts himself off from the social world just to stay home unbothered, turning his full attention on you

- He’s the kinda guy who, if you ask him for something, instead of stopping for a second and thinking, he’s already on his way to the store

- On foot

- He forgets he has a car if you ask him for something, instead he’s right out the door walking to the closest store

- And don’t be surprised if he comes back with a lot more shit than you needed. He just picks up anything that makes him think of you

Michael’s keyring jingled as he fumbled through them, looking for the house key. He had just got back from the store, stocking up on anything you might have needed to help you get over your temporary illness. Finally finding the key, he jammed it into the lock and opened the door, stepping in and locking the door behind him. He quickly shrugged his jacket off, not bothering to hang it on the coat rack, instead letting it fall to the floor. The only thing on his mind was putting up your ice cream and making his way back to the couch to sit with you.

Michael quietly stepped past you, snickering to himself as he say you laying stiff as a board with a cold washcloth on your head and a sleeping mask to block out the lights. Making his way to the kitchen, he put up anything that needed to put up, grabbing a glass of water and a bag that had a different assortment of medicines. He didn’t know exactly what to get, so he opted to just get everything that he thought would help.

Stepping back into the living room, Michael made his way over to the couch you were laying on. He took notice that you had begun to breathe through your mouth, your nose having gotten stuffier while he was gone. The tall man sat on the edge of the coffee table and placed his hand on your arm, gently rubbing it to show he was there. “Hey, (Y/n). I know you’re sick, but you need to sit up for a second.” he whispered, not wanting to be too loud. You groaned in response, being cut short as another coughing fit racked through your body.

Michael winced as your body finally relaxed, assisting you in sitting up just long enough for you to take the medicine. It was painful to swallow, and you took a minute to recoil from the burn. Tears welped up in your eyes, but you blinked them away. Your boyfriend frowned, reaching his hand out to cup your face. Leaning into his touch, you relished in the fact that his cool hands helped to ease the burning of your cheeks. All too soon, Michael removed his hand and moved to the couch, pulling you to lay against him. He ran his fingers through his hair, humming some random songs until you managed to finally go back to sleep. Kissing the top of your head, he decided to take a nap himself, holding one arm around you.

Pete:

- Remember how I said he doesn’t like when you take care of him when he’s sick?

- Well forget that if you’re sick

- He’s over as soon as you wake up and tell him that you don’t feel good, carrying a few different containers of soup.

- And yes, he had been up almost all morning making those for you

- He will cuddle with you no matter what kind of sick you have

- My mans just loves you a lot, and while he doesn’t want you getting sick from him, he’ll gladly get himself sick trying to take care of you

- Really, you both end up sleeping all day

- He found out the hard way that when you’re sick, you’re clingy, and you’re not letting him go

Pete had just finished warming up some of his uncle’s homemade chicken noodle soup for you in your kitchen. He poured it into a bowl he pulled from your cabinet, grabbing the exact spoon that you prefer using (the little spoons are 🤌🏻🤌🏻), and made his way into your bedroom. Thankfully, you were just dealing with a nasty cold and not the flu, your only major symptoms being a sore throat, sneezing and a cough.

Opening your door, he stepped inside, shutting it behind him. He looked at you sitting up on your bed, picking at your nails as you put your full attention onto some random show that was on the tv. You had definitely gotten over the worst of it, but you still felt bad. Thankfully, Pete’s been there since you came down with the sickness (Oo ah ah ah ah), and he’s been nonstop caring for you. In fact, if it weren’t for him, you probably wouldn’t have been taking your medicine as steadily as he made you.

Walking to the bedside, you finally noticed he had come in, turning your head and smiling at him. Scootching over to give him room, you grabbed the soup from him, allowing him to get into bed beside you before tucking in. You had practically begged him to get his uncle to make his famous soup recipe, and his uncle happily agreed when he heard that that you were feeling sick.

“Dude, if I could marry soup, I’d marry this soup right now.” you mused, happily enjoying the meal. He smiled, amused at your words. “It would go bad in a few days, I think it’s fruitless to marry soup.” he quipped back, looking at you. You sighed, pretending to cry about what he said. The medicine you’ve been taking has made you a little loopy, it didn’t take a fool to see that. “My soup husband. My soupsband.” you mourned over the loss of your pretend marriage. “Gone but never forgotten.” Pete added, causing you to cackle, only for a cough to rack through your frame. Your boyfriend rubbed your back, his heart breaking at the groan of pain you emitted after you settled.

“The only soupsband you’ll ever have is me.” he said nonchalantly, taking your empty bowl and setting it on your nightstand. “Yeah, probably. Oh well. As long as you make me soup and baby me when I’m sick.” you said, leaning on your boyfriend. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, letting you lean against him as you both laid back. The rest of the day was filled with soup, tv, and the comfort of each other.

#sp goth kids #south park goth kids #sp michael #sp henrietta #sp pete #south park michael #south park henrietta #south park henrietta biggle #south park pete #south park pete thelman #sp pete thelman #sp henrietta biggle x reader #sp henrietta biggle #sp henrietta x reader #south park henrietta biggle x reader #sp pete x reader #sp michael x reader #south park pete x reader #south park michael x reader

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lets-all-calm-down-a-bit · 3 months

Note

Style, Kyman, cartters, crat, and Henrietta

Yay!!!! YAYYAYAYAYAYAYAY

Style: I SHIP IT SO HARD AHHHHH. I don’t really know when exactly I started shipping it, but I know some of the main contributors were the episodes “Super Best Friends”“You’re Getting Older/AssBurgers” and “Cupid Ye.” (Not to mention The Post Covid movies hehehe.) One of my favorite things about the ship is definitely their emaculate “yes, and” dynamic, and the way their traits compliment each other. I also looooveeee friends to lovers in teen romance, and adore domestic bliss in older romance. An unpopular opinion I suppose I have is that both Stan and Kyle are dorky loser assholes. Neither of them are “fem” or “masc.” They’re just stan and kyle. Kyle and Stan. OH AND ANOTHER UNPOPULAR OPINION I HAVE!!! They’re BOTH on the asexual spectrum!! Kyle is demigrey-sexual and Stan is sex repulsed asexual!! I will stand by this till I die.

OK NEXT!

Kyman: Urggg this one is iffy for me so I’m going to answer a mixture of both yes and no questions. I appreciate the ship from other people but don’t personally ship it because I like domestic bliss and fluff, and I can’t see them having a non-toxic dynamic. I’m all for a good enemies to lovers, but their situation is more complex than that. I feel like Kyle would never feel romantic love for Eric. He is definitely cursed to forever care about Eric, and have a deepest belief that he could somehow fix him that has the potential to verge into obsessive territory, but that’s all I see. One sided Kyman though? That’s literally just canon. Like fr Cartman is psychosexually obsessed with Kyle and if you don’t see that you did NOT watch the same show as me. I would probably like the ship more if Cartman showed lasting positive character development that wasn’t either shown to be fake or reversed for laughs.

Next…

Buttman: Euahhg. Sorry. I’ve NEVER liked this ship. I envoy their canon dynamic, and I know butters was taken a turn for the worse in more recent seasons, but I still HATE it. Because it’s abusive. At least with Kyman, Kyle and Cartman equal each other out in terms of hard-headedness. Even with his new changes in conviction in the recent seasons, if Cartters was real, it would end up like another damn heidi situation. Cartman would cling to Butters as a source of comfort and stability, while simultaneously belittling him and manipulating him. It would be so unhealthy. And I’m still not over Cartman laughing and watching as Butters was beat by his dad because of something Eric intentionally caused. As someone who grew up in a similar household to that of the Stotch’s, that scene makes me fucking sick. I… don’t really have anything positive to say about this ship tbh. It would probably be palatable to me if Butters was stronger willed, and if Eric showed more compassion to Butters in canon.

Crat: Oh lord. Uh, I was indoctrinated into this cult last year so. CRAT FOR THE WIN!!! (I don’t really genuinely ship it though. No hate to objectum truthers, it’s just forever only a crackship to me.)

AND LAST ONE

I assume the last one is supposed to be Kenrietta? If it is then YAY! If not then, oops sorry ): Anyway, I ship it! It’s not my main Kenny ship, (I’m a bunny truther,) but I like it! I’m not sure exactly what my first sight of the ship was, but it may have been either @mysterionrisez or @saprozoicworm. Not sure though. Regardless, I love the idea of Kenny playing around with gender-fuckery, and/or being in a Mysterion kinda mood and Henrietta being all like, “Woah,,, that kinda goth…” Like their dynamic would be that one “doing whatever my hot witch girlfriend wants” meme with the guy in a summoning circle smiling. ALSO, Henrietta would 100% do Kenny’s makeup. EEE i just love it. I can’t see it as a long term thing, but they would DEFINITELY give it a go in highschool. Also, both of them are lesbians who are woman and also men and also neither at the same time. Fight me.

OK ANYWAY THATS ALL I HAVE THANKS FOR LISTENING BYEEEE

#colby rambles #south park #southpark #sp #sp style #sp kyman #sp crat #kenrietta #ask game!#not tagging the negative ones because i’m not gonna be the dick who says mean stuff in a ship tag #cloby's headcannons

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clotpolesonly · 3 months

Text

Live A Little (Love A Lot)

Blue wasn’t quite sure how she ended up alone at Monmouth Manufacturing with Ronan. Gansey was at a family function—a political function, rather, that happened to involve his family, and thus required his presence to complete the pretty picture—and Adam wouldn’t be back from his factory shift for another twenty minutes or so. She had a feeling that Noah might have been here at some point, but after his sacrifice and Cabeswater’s reconstitution of Gansey, their ability to keep track of him in their minds and their memories was a little hit or miss.

However it had started, now it was just Blue cross-legged on Gansey’s bed, being nosy and going through all the books he had stacked up on the floor beside it in a tower tall enough to act as a nightstand for yet more books, and Ronan, sprawled out on the main strip of miniature Henrietta and tossing bits of potato chip into the air for Chainsaw to swoop for. Half the time, she was too late to catch them and the bits fell back down to hit him in the face. He didn’t seem to mind much.

It was a drowsy, boring, waiting type of afternoon, but it was kind of nice too. Out of all her boys, Ronan was the one she’d spent the least amount of time with, and she wasn’t entirely sure she’d ever spent more than a few minutes with only him. Being trapped in a frightening mystical underground cavern in the dark together and tormented by images of their dead and potentially soon-to-be-dead loved ones, she thought, didn’t count.

She put down Rhiannon: An Inquiry into the Origins of the First and Third Branches of the Mabinogi and picked up Mysterious Creatures: A Guide to Cryptozoology next. It had a candy bar wrapper stuffed in it as a bookmark, about thirty pages from the end. There had been ten books stacked on top of it. Blue wondered if Gansey remembered or had even noticed that he hadn’t gotten around to those last thirty pages. Probably not.

“Hey, maggot.”

A few months ago, this might have ruined her good mood. Now she just turned to the entry on Sasquatch—Gansey had doodled several footprints of varying sizes in the margins here—and said, “I’m not dignifying that by answering to it.”

“You just did, moron. Hey, would you date me?”

Blue put the book down. “Come again?”

Ronan had not unsprawled from downtown, one foot planted on Magnolia Drive so that his crooked knee towered over the drug store with the old-timey striped awning, the other elbow jutting out between the public library and the less respectable of Henrietta’s two Denny’s. Chainsaw seemed to have realized where all the chip bits were coming from. She’d stolen the bag right out of Ronan’s hand and was pecking covetously through its contents a few crossroads away. Ronan had to crane his head back, pale throat bared, to look at Blue upside down.

“Noah said you said you’d go out with him—” Well, that at least confirmed her suspicion about how they’d ended up in this position, though it smarted that Ronan seemed to remember something that she didn’t. “—you know, if he was alive and shit. What about me?”

“You are alive. And shit.”

“No duh, dumbass. I meant, would you go out with me? If I asked?”

Blue blinked at him. “Ronan, you don’t want to go out with me.”

Ronan’s eye roll was impressive in its thoroughness. “Yeah, yeah, but, you know. If I did.”

For a moment, Blue was stymied, both by the question itself and by the fact that Ronan had asked it. It struck her as nonsensical in a way that none of their wild, mind-bending, magical shenanigans ever had. Then she looked at Ronan again—at the sharp and graceful hooks of his elaborate tattoo, at the artfully distressed jeans that she knew he bought that way on purpose rather than letting them get ripped up organically, at the way he lounged like he was just waiting for somebody to paint him like one of their french girls. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Is this a pride thing?”

Ronan grinned, sharp and unrepentant; she had him pegged and he seemed to like that. “Gotta make sure the chicks dig me.”

“Even if you don’t dig ‘em back?”

“Especially when I don’t dig ‘em back.”

Blue huffed. A piece of unruly hair, escaped from its clip, bounced haphazardly in front of her face. She ignored it in favor of grabbing another one of Gansey’s books without looking at its title. “Well, I am not a chick—” Her tone made very clear how unfeminist she considered the term to be. “—and I’m not dignifying that question with a response either.”

“Oh, come on.”

Ronan dragged out the last syllable for a day and a half. Maybe two days. There was a whole Daylight Saving’s Time trapped inside that syllable. He finally rolled himself out of the road to sit up, startling Chainsaw into flight and nearly knocking the painstakingly crafted popsicle stick awning off the drug store, just so he could make an entreating face at her. She ignored that too.

“You said you’d date Noah!” he whined. “You dated Parrish! You’re all up on Gansey’s d—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Ronan Lynch.”

“And now Cheng too!” Ronan scoffed spectacularly. “Not to be confused with Cheng Two, though at the rate you’re going—”

Blue snapped her book closed and said, “Quit being a shitbag, Lynch. I don’t date shitbags regardless of their sexuality.”

Ronan made a very put-upon noise, like she was being unreasonable about the whole thing and horribly unfair to boot. “If I was attracted to women, and neither of us was dating anybody else who would object, and I asked you out. Would you say yes? That’s all I’m asking!”

“You really want to know?”

Ronan frowned stubbornly at her in response. It wasn’t an angry kind of frown, though. She was very used to Ronan’s angry frowns, and his angry glares, and his angry smiles, and pretty much every other kind of angry expression, seeing as anger was his default emotion. This one looked more petulant than anything. Grumpy in a challenging kind of way, like a goat getting ready to butt heads, or like one of the toddlers that frequented 300 Fox Way when they wanted to stay up past bedtime and had a whole argument ready to present in favor of the idea and were just begging for somebody to try and tell them they shouldn’t.

This wasn’t an angry or upset Ronan, Blue realized. This was Ronan in a good mood. He was having fun arguing with her like this.

She bit down on a smile. “You really want to know?” She dragged out the word for a whole ‘nothing Daylight Saving’s Time.

Ronan picked up a stray chip and threw it in her direction. It bounced off her knee and fell down behind Gansey’s pillow. “Why would I ask a question if I didn’t want to know the answer, huh? Stupid.”

Blue put the book she’d been pretending to read back on its precarious tower—several books shorter now than it had been before she’d gotten nosy—and stood, hands on her hips. “Come on, then,” she said brusquely. “Get up.”

Ronan blinked up at her, taken aback. “What for?”

“I like to make informed decisions. Up! Let me get a look at you.”

For a second, she thought he might object to the idea of being examined and evaluated like livestock, but then another grin bloomed on his face, every bit as sharp and unrepentant as the last. He stood with the coiled grace of a pit viper ready to strike. His arms, bared by his black tank top, were impressively muscled, and his tattoo flirted over the edge of his solid shoulders. His thumbs found his belt loops, jeans low slung and hips jutting forward. His eyes really were some of the bluest Blue had ever seen, rivaled only by his own brothers. He was all sharp angles and contrast, danger and insouciance, like a cat on a tightrope casually licking its claws.

In short, he looked good, and it was obvious he knew it. Nobody adored a Lynch like a Lynch.

Blue kept her face impassive, lips pursed. She took her time circling him. He didn’t turn his head to watch her, content, apparently, to let her survey him from every angle. There was a smirk on his lips by the time she came back around to stand in front of him.

“So?” he asked, a laugh in his tone. Like he knew what her answer would be. Like he’d already won. “What’s the verdict?”

Blue hummed thoughtfully. “No.”

Ronan lost his smirk. “What?” His voice had jumped up at least half an octave, like he’d been shocked into forgetting it was supposed to be low and gruff and sexy.

“No,” Blue said again, breezily. “I wouldn’t date you. Sorry.”

There was a moment of silence while Ronan recalibrated. She’d never seen him speechless before, but she had really and truly caught him off guard. As his mouth opened and closed without any words coming out, Blue thought he might actually be a little hurt.

Finally, he said, “Why the fuck not? You’d date everybody else!”

Blue crossed her arms over her chest, hoping her cheeks weren’t pink, and shrugged. “Don’t feel bad about it. It’s nothing personal,” she said honestly. “It’s not because I don’t see the appeal or anything. It’s just… Well, frankly, you’re too tall for my tastes.”

Ronan scoffed at once. “Seriously?”

Blue raised an eyebrow at him. Then she dragged her eyes down to what was actually on her level, which were his pectorals, if she was standing up real straight. She didn’t even reach his clavicle. He was, quite literally, head and shoulders taller than her.

“Gansey and Henry are already bad enough,” she said. “And Adam was on thin ice back when we were together. I would break my damn neck trying to kiss you! No offense.”

“How is that not offensive? Not my fault you’re a midget.”

“Not my fault you’re the human equivalent of a telephone pole.”

“You should kiss me anyway.”

“What?” It was Blue’s turn to get squeaky with surprise.

Ronan had his smirk back, though. “I said you should kiss me anyway! You already kissed everybody else.”

Blue’s cheeks were definitely pink now, both at the reminder of the time she and Adam had ill-advisedly—AKA drunkenly—decided to finally have the kiss that had broken them up several months before, just for the sake of saying they’d done it, and at the realization that Ronan was right. What kind of cliche was she, the only girl in a group of boys, getting kissed by every one of them?

Well, almost every one.

“Ronan Lynch,” she said, indignant enough that nothing else needed to be said to make it known.

He was not shamed. “Come on, why not? I’m feeling very left out! One kiss. What, are you afraid you’ll fall desperately in love with me?”

Blue’s snort of laughter was so immediate and so strong that Ronan honestly should’ve been offended by it. He only grinned, though, and reached out to tug at the stray piece of hair in front of her face.

“Come on,” he said again. “Just one kiss. As a friend thing.”

Blue was pretty sure that wasn’t something normal friends did with each other. But, then, she was also aware that theirs was hardly a normal group of friends. She slapped his hand away and said, “A friend thing, really?”

“It’s only weird if we make it weird.”

“I think kissing my ex-boyfriend’s gay current boyfriend is weird by definition, no matter why I do it.”

Ronan’s grin widened. “Live a little, Sargent.”

There was a dare in that smile. It was the kind of smile Ronan gave to Adam that convinced Adam to tie himself to the back of the Pig and see if he could skateboard behind it like he was waterskiing because if he didn’t do it then it meant he was scared, and, if you asked Ronan, there was nothing worse than being scared. It was the kind of smile you rose to the challenge of or you risked losing Ronan Lynch’s respect, and, if you asked Blue, there was nothing worse than losing Ronan Lynch’s respect.

Blue kicked Ronan in the shin. Hard.

He yelped, as much out of surprise as from pain, and pitched forward to protect the area under attack. Blue only had to give him a little push to get him down on one knee.

“Fuckshit, maggot, what was that f—”

Blue caught his face in her hands and cut off his question with a kiss. It was a proper one, too, not one of those chaste little grandma-pecks. If Ronan Lynch wanted a kiss, then she was damn well going to give him one. There was only a split second of bafflement before he was giving back as good as he got, never one to lose or be outdone. Blue had to acknowledge, at least to herself and never ever out loud where anyone else could hear, that Adam was a lucky man.

When she was certain that the challenge had been met to everybody’s satisfaction, she pulled back to pat Ronan on the cheek. Stunned, Ronan let her get away with it.

In answer to his interrupted question, she said, “I told you you’re too tall. As nice a kiss as that was, I wasn’t about to break my neck for it. And anyway, I think I like you better like this.”

The sharklike look on his face was all the warning she had. In a split second, Ronan was on his feet again, one arm wrapped around her to keep her in place, ruffling her hair so aggressively that it sent clips ricocheting around the room. Chainsaw immediately started snatching them up and spiriting them away.

“Lynch, you asshole!”

Ronan released her with a peal of laughter. He dodged her attempt to grab him back and made good use of his significantly longer legs to book it to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. She could still hear him laughing in there.

“Yeah, yuck it up, chucklefuck,” she yelled. “See if I ever kiss you again!”

“What’s going on here?”

Blue spun around to see Adam, bleary-eyed and grimy, paused in the entrance. She hadn’t heard the heavy door open over all the commotion. Straightening out the rumpled mess of her outfit and also, hopefully, her dignity, she said, “Your boyfriend’s cheating on you with me.”

There were several seconds where Adam tried to make sense of those words. Eventually, it seemed, he gave up. “Okay. I need a shower.”

He disappeared into the godforsaken bathroom-laundry-kitchen monstrosity. Blue huffed and threw herself back down onto Gansey’s bed. The chip Ronan had thrown at her earlier bounced out with the motion to nudge at her hand. She snatched it up, ate it, and only then remembered that it had been on the floor before it had become a projectile. Oh well. It was probably more sanitary than anything that had been prepared in that bathroom anyway.

“You lied.”

Blue spun around again, only this time it was Noah, smudgy and pale and half-there, that she found this time. He was lying on his stomach down the main strip of miniature Henrietta, poking at the drug store awning like it fascinated him. It felt, in that moment, like he’d been there the whole time.

“What d’you mean?” Blue asked him. “About what?”

“When you said you wouldn’t date Ronan if he asked. You totally would. No matter how tall he is.” He said it like a statement of fact. Like there was no doubt in his mind.

Blue stuck out her chin in defiance. “Oh yeah? Why are you so sure about that?”

Noah shrugged. “He’s one of your boys.”

Blue deflated. She made a very put-upon noise, but she could hardly argue. Not against Noah. “I guess. Don’t tell him, though. It would go straight to his head, I’d never hear the end of it.”

Noah mimed zipping up his mouth and throwing away the key. Chainsaw, returned from hiding Blue’s hairclips where no one would ever find them again, chased the motion like she thought he’d really thrown something and made a distinctly plaintive noise when she realized he hadn’t. He offered her a stray piece of cardboard in apology.

Blue settled back down into Gansey’s bed. She picked up The Welsh Kings: Warriors, Warlords And Princes and flipped to where a gas station receipt marked the day Gansey had forgotten he was reading it. The noise of the shower running was soft and soothing. Noah was humming something she was almost certain he’d learned from Ronan. Everything smelled like mint and dust and old paper.

Soon enough, she thought, Ronan would probably judge the coast clear. He’d emerge carefully, watching her for any sign that she was mad and preparing to launch another sneak attack on him. She was willing to bet he would be sharp-eyed and thrilled the entire time, delighted by the game. A sudden fondness filled her up so much she thought she might burst with it.

Noah was right. No matter how obnoxiously tall he was, no matter what a shithead he could be, no matter the nature of the relationship—Blue still loved Ronan more than words could say. How could she not? He was one of her boys.

#Bronan #Blue Sargent #Ronan Lynch #TRC #fics by me #i just love them so much ok they're adorable #a whiny Ronan is a happy Ronan actually in case you didn't know #he's is like a puppy he just wants to bite things but like affectionately all the time #he wants to PLAY

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monicaaaaatje · 1 month

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I could not help myself and this literally came out in five minutes? It is obviously not finished yet, but I had to share it with my Bathena nation <3 I do have to high light: this is my first take on writing this ship. I still have to figure some things out.

So far there had been three times in life that Athena had truly, truly felt conflicted with everything that she was feeling. The first time had been when Emmet died. Someone who she had believed to be her soulmate had been murdered, so it wasn’t strange that she had felt that way. The second time had been when Michael had told her his secret. As a wife, you don’t expect your husband to drop a bomb like that on you. The third time had been when she had arrested the girl who had made her daughter perform a suicide attempt. If it had been up to her, she would have done a hell of a lot more then only take that bitch into custody. The fourth time- “Athena. Athena, I’m going to need you to stop shaking if you want me to put this gown on you.” From the day she had met her second husband, a man she called her soulmate without a single doubt in her mind, Athena had known that both their jobs were not without any risks. He had never held the risks she had to take against her and she didn’t hold the risks of his job against him. The funny side was that their home would always be fire proof and the person who tried to break into their home would truly have a field day, but the What if… The “What if-” had always been nagging at the both of them. He had experienced when she had been beat to a pulp a few years back, and she had experienced it with him on multiple occasions. The kobalt poisoning, getting shot by a sniper, saving her daughter from a dispatch centre that had gone up in flames… She had always told him jokingly that she wasn’t planning yet on becoming a widow. “May refuses to leave. Her hair has been scorched and her arms and legs are covered in first and second degree burns, but she refused to leave him until you were here. Athena Grant-Nash, are you hearing anything of what I’m telling you?” Athena awoke from her slumbering thoughts when her friend Hen grabbed her by the shoulders. “Yeah. I hear you.” “Good. You should. It’s a craze in there so I’ll have to bring you to the burn unit. They only allow direct family in under the circumstances-” “I get that.” “Are you… Okay?” Athena could see in Hen’s eyes that it wasn’t parademic Wilson who was asking her that. “You should not ask me that. Not now.” Henrietta grabbed her arm, and started guiding Athena through the different hallways. The police sergeant would never say it out loud, but she was glad her friend was here to guide her through these halls. She wasn’t sure if she could have managed to get up to the burn unit floor herself. He has saved May from burning. Again. He has saved my baby from burning alive, again. When the elevator doors opened, Athena could hear a familiar yelling. “LET ME GO! I’m not leaving until my mom gets here! You’re not going to pump him full with morfine! He can’t have that! No, you’re not going to take me. NO! Don’t touch me with that needle. Don’t-” Athena saw that it took her daughter a few moments to realize who was standing in front of the room. With her line of work, Athena was pretty talented in compartmentalizing her emotions; right now, she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to feel. She saw her daughter, whose hair had been scorced and whose clothes had obviously been touched by fire, having her hand interlaced with the hand of the man she loved. Athena swallowed. Bobby’s left arm and part of his chest were covered with sterile bandages. The redness and spots in his face didn’t lie- he had been touched by fire.

#bathena #bobby nash #Athena Grant #9-1-1 #9-1-1 fanfiction #Bathena fanfiction #Bathena nation #ALL HAILL THE ANGST #comments and other things are most welcome!

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endiness · 7 months

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not to always go off on this, but it annoys me so much that people think that radovid is going to, like, go darkside especially since the only reason people think that is because of the games which the show has nothing to do with because it's based off the books.

like, the worst picture the books ever painted of radovid were that he was bitter and resentful of the way he and his family had been treated and he eventually got revenge on everyone who wronged him. which, given the circumstances, seems pretty fair to me. and nowhere in the books does it ever imply that his revenge became disproportionate and he started targeting entire groups of people who never personally wronged him. like, that whole idea is entirely a product of the games and isn't applicable to the show.

and the only other thing the books ever said about him was that he become known as "the stern." which i think people are way too dire about and catastrophize way too much? like, i just don't think that has as terrible a connotation as people think it does. plus i don't think "the stern" is going to apply to show radovid anyway. because the thing is that the show already used that to describe hedwig and at her funeral no less and i think that was a deliberate reference to the books. so i don't think radovid will end up being "the stern" because hedwig herself already was, and the show will probably use redania's previous kings as inspiration for him and his moniker. (plus, show radovid does already share some similarities with redania’s previous kings named radovid who weren’t “the stern” — namely “the bold/red” who himself, at least in certain respects, was compared to “the great” in the books.)

plus i also just don't really see how the idea of radovid going darkside meshes with what we've seen of his personality. like, when we see radovid after the coup when he's surrounded by his dead guards, he's sitting on the floor with his knees pulled up to his chest and crying. i just don't think that particularly paints the picture of someone who's ever going to become a truly dark, violent person. like, it just doesn't seem to me like he has any stomach for violence. (that being said, i do think he'll eventually get revenge on philippa and dijkstra, but i don't think he'll be very bloodthirsty about it.)

and just for one last note: personally, i think radovid will actually end up being a good king, to quote radovid, as monarchs go. especially because lauren said that jaskier and radovid's relationship "will have ripple effects for a very long time" and the last scene they share together is one in which radovid promises that he's going to prove himself to jaskier. and i think he's going to at least attempt to keep that promise even if he can't be with him. and trying to be a good king and a good man is one way to do that especially when he's trying to prove himself to jaskier, the sandpiper, of all people.

(plus as a "radovid is jaskier's anna henrietta (good ending)" truther, the idea of radovid ending up a beloved ruler would fit my conspiracy theory a lot more. and the show did put a lot of effort into their relationship. like, to the extent that they even did a chemistry read with joey when casting radovid. which isn't exactly common. and the audition scene dialogue between them was very endgame-esque, too. i just don't think the show would put as much effort as they did into making sure they got their relationship right only for them to throw it all away by ultimately making radovid a truly awful person that jaskier couldn’t love and isn’t going to end up with.)

#radovid #radskier #jaskier #the witcher #!txt: the witcher

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sunshiline-writes · 4 months

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A Rose Amidst Thorns #13: A Promise Amidst the Nightmare

okay so.. imma be real this took me so long and im still not super happy with it. But if I don't post it now I never will so.. enjoy.. CW: lady whump, poc whump, mentioned minor whump (just barely), choking, mentions of historical slavery (please don't kill me), gore, hanging, torture, dehumanization, fear of death, fear of witnessing death Whumpee referred as a dog a lot idk man, toxic relationships, past abusive relationship, past toxic relationship, complicated character dynamics, fade to black noncon, thoughts of murder I THINK that's everything, let me know if I missed anything. Previous | Masterlist | Next

There was blood on the floor. Solomon’s blood. It scattered on the wood, drops staining it. Henrietta had already cleaned the broken plate, now she was working on the blood. She was cleaning her friend's blood from the ground. Xavier had beat him until he was almost unrecognizable. His eyes had swollen, his skin had turned red and purple. His lips swollen and split. He barely even looked human. Solomon was unconscious by the time Xavier dragged him upstairs.

She was ordered to clean the blood. No matter how much she scrubbed and scraped, the blood wouldn’t come out of the wood. It had stained it, become one with it. They had waited too long. Her knees hurt from being on them for so long. Her hands were dried and cracked from the soapy water and cloth she had used to try and clean. Everything frustrated her, the stains in the wood, the stains on her dress. Her nose was still throbbing from its earlier assault.

Henrietta pressed her forehead against the ground and sighed. The pressure of the ground against her was nice. She took deep steadying breaths, trying her best to calm her racing heart. When she opened her eyes, there was still blood.

“Get up.”

Henrietta pushed herself to her knees, staring up at Xavier. Tears welling in her eyes. There was no warmth in Xavier, all she felt from him was the cold rage. He grabbed her by the arm when she didn’t get up fast enough, pulling her forward, dragging her with him. “Just wait.. I-” Henrietta started to say, but she was cut off by a short growl. Xavier continued to half drag, half walk her out the door of their house. Their house, she still called it their house. It was hard to break that habit. It was his house, now she was just living in it. She knew that she was being taken to the barn. How could she not know? It was right in front of her, getting closer with every step.

“Xavier, please..” she whispered as he threw the door open. What was she begging for? Henrietta didn’t know. His grip only tightened on her arm, bruising. One more to add to the array on her body.

“Just shut up already,” he growled, shoving her forward.

She stumbled forward and tried to avoid falling on her face. When she finally looked up, she gasped. In the middle of the barn lay Miguel. Rope around him that had recently been cut. His legs were still tied together. There was a noose around his neck, though the rest of the rope hung off a beam in the ceiling.

“Xavier what did you do?”

“Nothing he didn’t deserve. There’s a chair on the other side. Go sit in it,” he said, voice low and rough.

“Xavier I don’t understa-”

His hand shot out and he grabbed her by the throat. Squeezing and shoving her backwards. She stumbled back instinctively, eyes going wide and mouth opening in an attempt to get some air. Xavier walked backwards until her hind legs hit the back of the chair and he shoved her down to sit. Hand still wrapped her throat, he squeezed. Her lungs and throat burned. Everything was blurry and her vision went dark around the edges. When she started to slump, he let her go. She gasped, taking in lungfuls of air.

“Stay there,” he growled, “I want you to watch.”

Henrietta was too busy sucking in lungfuls of air to really grasp what he was doing. She couldn’t get enough air. When she finally could breathe without her vision fading, she looked up. Xavier’s hands were on the rope. The rope that hung loosely over the beam in the ceiling, the one connected to the noose around Miguel's neck. Xavier’s eyes connected with hers. Then he pulled on the rope.

“Xavier stop!” she screamed as choked sounds came from Miguel. His feet slid on the wood and his hands clawed at the rope around his neck. “You’re going to kill him!”

“Why shouldn’t I? Would it really matter if I did? He’s just a dog.” Xavier’s eyes were wild, unhinged. He looked as if he really would kill Miguel, right here, in front of her.

Henrietta improvised. Trying to take the attention off the choking boy in front of her, who was turning blue. “Xavier. Please. Please don’t do this. I’ll never forgive you. I’ll kill you.”

He released the rope and Miguel fell to the ground with a dull thud, gasping and choking for air. Miguel was crying, shaking and sobbing. When had Xavier put on the blindfold? Henrietta didn’t recall. Her memories were flooded.

“You’ll kill me? Over a mutt?” Xavier asked softly. Releasing the rope from his hands. “Didn’t you ever love me?”

Henrietta’s eyes widened. She did once. A long time ago. Before Xavier was all rage and hatred. He wasn’t always like this. Or maybe he was, she was just blind to it. In her youth, she was blind to a lot of things. She was blind to the way he was built, all hard stone and jagged edges. Darkness surrounded him and perhaps, just for a little bit she was attracted to that darkness. She thought she had needed the darkness. Henrietta hadn’t realized that Xavier’s darkness was all consuming, destroying everything in its wake.

Her parents had grown up in darkness. They had been freed from slavery by their masters paying for their papers. They earned that money playing music for people. Their masters had claimed their talents were wasted as slaves. So they set them free. How strange some people were, seeing a beautiful thing and instead of wanting to keep it, they wanted to see it flourish. Henrietta had grown up free, by the time she was four or five, slavery had been abolished and her parents had danced and drank. Her mother sang loudly, more loud than she had ever heard her sing. Her father’s violin had never sounded so happy. It was her most fond memory of her childhood.

When she had seen Xavier for the first time, as a young woman, she was attracted to his calm outer shell. The way he was so confident and the way he tried to charm her. She liked the attention. Was that what caught her in the snare? The attention?

She had always liked the love of the crowd. When they laughed and jeered it fueled her. Made her want to prove them wrong. She always proved them wrong. Her mother always said that spite would get her in trouble. After she married Xavier, it always did. She liked the fight, liked the way he would get frustrated and try to control himself when she did something particularly spiteful. Henrietta had enjoyed it, she had loved it. She loved him once.

Henrietta had slowly fallen out of love when his anger became more and more uncontrolled. When every slight thing sets him off. He never hurt her, not really. It was the words that cut deep and true. The slow effort to control every aspect of her life. The last straw was Miguel.

When he had brought him home, she had asked what he was going to do with him.

I just got myself a new dog, I think, was the response.

It wasn’t until a few years later though, after a particular conversation with Miguel and Solomon that sealed the deal. That made love turn into hate. *

“What's the book about?”

“Anger.”

“Anger?” She repeated the sign, unsure of what it meant. The boy spelt it out for her. “Anger.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Captain. He’s so angry all the time. He gets so angry he forgets about his crew and he’s focused on killing the whale.”

“Oh. Did you like book?”

“No. Everyone dies.”

“Not everyone.” Solomon gently corrected, Miguel shrugged. He was fifteen at the time. And the shrug had become a common response. It was the only time she saw his real personality come out. Slightly sassy, and intense.

“Ishmael lives,” Solomon continued.

“You remind me of Ishmael.”

“Oh? What about Hen?”

Henrietta gave him a small smile.

“The Captain.”

Henrietta’s smile faded. No one expected that response. Solomon gave a nervous chuckle.

“Oh. Well.. what about you? Who are you in the story Miguel?”

His expression turned sour. Shrugging again and signing his next words with practiced ease.

“There are no dogs in the book.”

There are no dogs in the book. *

Xavier had made him believe that he was not a person. He was not a character in the book. He was just a dog. Nothing more than a slave. It reminded her of the stories her mother would sing about being a slave. It was the thing that broke her. “I did love you once. But you became a monster.”

How easy it was, for love to turn into hatred. They weren’t all that different. Two sides of the same coin. Both such passionate fiery emotions that could tear the world apart if used correctly.

Xavier grabbed her by the throat again, growling and hissing something. She couldn’t even help the choked laugh that escaped her. The fire that was growing in her chest. The hatred that poured from her, from him. The love that used to reside in that space between them had rotted and twisted into that hardly distinguishable hatred.

Henrietta preferred the hatred.

Xavier was her white whale.

He stopped choking her, looking into her eyes, searching for something. Slowly, he stepped back. There was a chasm between them. It was a relief and it broke her heart.

“All of this over a fucking kid.”

“He’s not a kid anymore.”

“You’re not my wife anymore.”

Henrietta stared at him with a sense of indignation. “I haven’t been for a long time. We both know that.”

Xavier smiled at her, cruel, unforgiving. “Yes. You’re right,” he lifted his hand to rub his face. “On your knees.”

She didn’t move. It was always going to end like this. With him throwing her to the ground, wrenching her on her knees by the hair. His grip stayed firm in her hair as he undid his belt. Henrietta was going to kill him. She was going to kill him and use his own spurs to slit his throat.

This was a promise. __

Taglist:

@demondamage @burntcoffeewhump @angst-after-dark @just-a-silly-little-whumper @tictac-murder-spaghetti @crash-bump-bring-the-whump @whumpifi-reads

@flowersarefreetherapy @badgerwhump @whumpbees @whumplr-reader

ask if you'd like to be added or removed!!

#whump #whumpblr #whump blog #sunshine writes whump #poc whump #lady whump #choking #toxic relationship #past abusive relationship #past abuse #Dehumanization #historical mention of slavery #hanging #everyone is suffering #hen is in the worst mental shape but best physical shape lol #uh..#yeah I might rewrite this chapter later down the line but alas

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miseria-fortes-viros · 9 months

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(brings microphone to your face) tell us abt ur au!!!! whatever you're willing to share, i love hearing abt wips.

OOHOOHOO OK!! so i have talked abt this before but i don’t think i have a tag for it however im going to go back thru and tag ALL of it bc well. i like all of my things in one place. ANYWAY. i’m going to put this under a cut bc it will be LONG because i cannot help myself ever. so, i present: trc rival bands au!

this is the pinterest board i’ve made for the au that i cannot stop adding to. i’m refraining from sharing my spotify playlists because uh. those are a major part of the story and i don’t want to take that away from it 😭 BUT trust me they are SO good. im obsessed.

anyway. rival bands au LETS GO!!

gansey, ronan, henry, and noah make up the (pop punk?/alt rock?) band Kings of Henrietta.

ronan plays lead guitar. he’s the son of legendary irish rockstar niall lynch and also ex lead guitarist of the boyband the lynch brothers. he plays a seven-string ibanez xiphos in black flat (VERY sexy guitar VERY difficult). its name is chainsaw. he has perfect pitch. he’s also very, very irish

gansey’s lead vocals and rhythm guitar. he grew up hollywood royalty but was never really interested in acting, just did it because it was expected of him. his exodus from the film industry in order to be in a band was originally widely considered a long shot but now. well. one of the most famous bands in the world and all that. he plays an obnoxiously orange gretsch jet that fans have dubbed “the pig”.

henry’s bass and backup vocals. he’s the heir to two tech fortunes but ran off to be a musician and was a solo artist for a few years before the formation of KOH (think yungblud). he has a classic rocker haircut, he’s openly queer, he’s a weirdgirl fashion icon. he plays a custom made electric blue fender precision with lightning detailing. he calls it “madonna” but this name has yet to catch on

noah plays drums (and also provides vocals on occasion if the occasion is screaming). his parents are music producers, his sister adele is also in the industry. he breaks at least one drum stick per show and tosses it into the pit. hardcore fans can and will fight for it.

they are SO fucking famous. like taylor swift 95m monthly spotify listeners famous. like people recognize ronan just from his hair like eminem famous. about to leave on one of the longest world tours ever famous. it is INSANE how famous they are.

they all met at aglionby and often played together but didn’t form a band until after niall lynch’s murder and the disbanding of the lynch brothers. there’s a few years gap between graduating aglionby and the formation of KOH

some circles still believe ronan killed his own father however they are very few and far between. WHATEVER

blue grew up in a house full of musicians. she can play pretty much anything under the sun but prefers drums and guitar. she went to juilliard on scholarship, which is where she met adam

adam did not grow up playing music with his family. he grew up learning it in secret. he cannot play everything however he is a VERY quick learner out of sheer willpower. he graduated high school as valedictorian and immediately got the fuck out of there to go to juilliard (also on scholarship). he and blue were inseparable almost immediately

they moved in together after graduation and blue took him home to henrietta when the rent started to get a little too high. they officially formed their band page of wands in blue’s room at 300 fox way

“page of wands” merges both of their symbolic tarot cards together (page of cups + magician). did i mention blue was raised pagan? she was. as to be expected. anyways.

virtually unknown indie rock band page of wands posts a cover of a KOH song. they do not expect KOH to see it. they also do not expect KOH to return the favor in front of tens of thousands of people. KOH does it anyways. because gansey is ENAMORED. he is SO FAR GONE.

blue hates this. she hates it so much. unfortunately POW’s sudden success is now irreversibly tied to KOH and there’s nothing she can do about it. or is there

their record labels agree to a rivalry. success! this is what she wanted

except it’s not. but she doesn’t know why

cue enemies to lovers. and long distance pining. mutual destruction. the entire music industry watching this all unfold. bluesey. pynch. way too many spotify links. you get the picture

guys i literally CANNOT stop thinking about this i don’t know what to do. what do i do. i am so lost. please help me

#the raven cycle #helenaposting #asks #trium #trc band au #barbi.trc #barbi.wip

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fogoversouthpark · 5 months

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Before the Fog: Investigation

Fanfiction makes reference to murder and vehicle accidents. Please read at your own discretion.

Detective Harrison Yates entered the interrogation room, taking his seat across from the blonde woman who had been waiting patiently, staring at the table in front of her. She looked up at him, calm and measured, but her face was flushed and her eyes were bloodshot. The bandages covering her body were starting to seep with blood.

He sighed, leaning on the table. “Mrs. Henrietta Ellis.”

She blinked, seeming to take a moment to process what he had said. “Oh, I prefer Biggle.”

“How about we just stick with Henrietta, then?” Harrison offered.

She nodded slowly. “Sure.”

Detective Yates took the folder from under his arm and opened it. “I know tonight has been rough. And I do want to give you my condolences. It can’t be easy losing your spouse. It’s a miracle your injuries were so minor, physically speaking.”

“It’s fine, detective. Can we just…Get into it? I would rather be at home when I have my breakdown.”

“Of course. We’re just trying to figure out what might have happened?” He looked down at the preliminary report they had. “You and your husband, Jeffery, were in a car crash, correct?”

“Yes, earlier tonight. We were supposed to be going out. He said it was a surprise where we were headed. I was just happy to go out. But, then when we were on the highway, he was speeding, he likes to speed. Liked…He didn’t see the police car, the speed trap.

Henrietta paused, taking a moment to breathe and calm down the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.

“The police car, it pulled out, but when he went to stop, to pull over, I don’t know. He said something about the breaks, and then he started yelling, and…I don’t remember what happened after that. I’m assuming that he must have lost control, he panics-panicked very easily and that would lead him to making some dangerous decisions…I’m sorry, I wish I knew more.” She rubbed at her watery eyes, wincing when her raw palms pressed against them.

“Did you notice anything about the car before?” Harrison asked, leaning forward.

“Before? It didn’t seem like anything was wrong. The car stuttered a bit when he was shifting gear, but that didn’t stand out to me.”

The detective hummed. “Did it do that for you when you drove?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Your house only had one car, correct? So, what was it like when you drove?”

Henrietta chuckled softly, “I wasn’t allowed to drive.”

“You don’t have a license?”

“No, I do. Jeffery was a very, let’s say, traditional man. He wouldn’t allow me to drive the car. He had the only key, and he kept the garage door locked at all times. If something was wrong with the car in the days leading up to it, he didn’t mention anything to me.”

Harrison cleared his throat, feeling awkward. “I…I see. Well, alright then. I suppose that’s all the questions we have for you tonight. Do you have anyone available to take you home?”

“Do you mind if I get my phone out?”

Harrison waved a hand at her. “By all means, go ahead.”

Henrietta reached into the pocket of her jacket, accidentally ripping the tear in the sleeve larger as she did so. She clicked the cracked screen on and smiled softly at the screen. “Yes, my friends are waiting outside for me.”

Harrison stood, closing the folder and tucking it under his arm. “Then let me walk you out.”

Henrietta stood, smoothing out her dirty dress. “Thank you, officer.”

The detective walked the blonde out to the front steps and watched as she joined the four men outside. He watched as the tallest one, a man with curly hair and a prosthetic leg leaning on a cane, handed her the unlit cigarette in his hand and a second, with neon green tips, flipped open a lighter and lit it for her. The shorter two men wrapped her in a hug and helped her into the back seat of their car. He smiled at the group, thankful to see the new widow seemed to have a support system to help her through the grieving process. The car pulled away and the detective went inside to finish the paperwork.

Inside the car, the group waited until they were a few miles from the police station before Michael looked up at Henrietta in the rearview mirror.

“Well?”

Henrietta smirked at him. “Bought it. Hook, line, and sinker. I should be an actress.”

Karen popped up from where she had been waiting in the trunk. “Success!”

“Atta girl.” Pete shook her shoulder happily.

Firkle rolled down the window to let out the smoke from her cigarette when he started to cough slightly. She grabbed his inhaler from Pete and passed it over to him.

Mike sighed heavily, slumping down in the passenger seat. “This is definitely the most stressful thing you all have roped me into.”

“But we got our Dove back.” Michael said, choking a bit on his words as he took one hand off the wheel to squeeze Mike’s.

“We did.”

Henrietta laughed, running a hand through her hair. “Thank you, boys. Now, let’s go home.”

Pete reached out, twirling a strand of blonde around his finger. “We’ve got the dye and better clothes than this pink nightmare ready for you.”

“This isn’t over yet.” Firkle reminded them all. “There’s still the funeral.”

“I can be a grieving widow and still look like my real self. Everyone was well-fucking-aware of how I looked and dressed before my fucking parents forced me into marrying that abusive asshole.”

Pete nodded. “Besides, sudden trauma is known to cause people to make ‘drastic’ changes in an attempt to cope. And it really was lucky that you got out of the crash without more severe injuries.”

“We did our research, baby bat.” Michael said.

“I know, I helped.” Firkle crossed his arms with a pout.

Karen reached out and patted his back. “We all did! And we got to commit homicide!”

Pete turned in his seat, ruffling her hair. “Couldn’t have done it without our little starling helping us with the car.”

The young teen giggled, pushing him away. “It wasn’t that impressive. And Kevin and Kenny taught me how to do it. I’m just happy to see Henrietta again.”

Firkle nodded, speaking quietly. “We would have been able to get you back sooner if that ass hadn’t kept you from us for so long.”

“But it worked out. And it’s going to keep working, so long as we remember our story.” Henrietta comforted, leaning over to press a bright red kiss to his cheek.

Firkle groaned, scrubbing his cheek. “Gross, Mother Morticia.”

“You love me.”

“I killed for you.”

“Exactly.”

#the fog over south park #south park #tfosp #before the fog #sp goth kids #sp pete #sp karen #sp michael #sp henrietta #sp mike #sp firkle #firkle smith #karen mccormick #henrietta biggle #pete thelman #fanfic #sp fanfiction #polygoths #the goths and their pet vamp

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l3ahth3dhmisfan · 9 months

Text

Of course hope you like it also sorry for keeping you waiting I been struggling with in real life problems, but I finally finished it I tried to make it realistic. But anyways I hope you enjoy and if you don’t like it I'm more than happy to make another one

Pete Thelman x reader

(Romantic/platonic)

Reader: gender neutral

Note: ya'll are in 5th grade

Y/n pov:

It was my first day at South Park elementary, I got up and got dressed (you can wear what you want as long as it’s appropriate). My parents unfortunately had to leave early for work but they made me breakfast before they left. I sat down and ate my breakfast while watching (f/s), after I finished eating my breakfast I put my dishes in the sink, slipped my shoes on, put on my (f/c) jacket, and head out the door to the nearest bus stop. I waited till the bus stop by. I got on the bus, I sat in the back of the bus and remained quiet till I got to school.

I got to school I went over to my locker number that was assigned to me the day before. I accidentally bumped into someone “I'm so sorry.” I said helping the boy pick up his stuff he dropped on the ground. I look up to see a boy with a untucked dark-gray dress shirt, black pants, purple buckled winklepickers, and a silver bolo tie with a red jewel in the center. He has black teased hair that is parted on the right and shaved around the bottom half and is dyed red near the roots on top. “Tsk conformist.” He said walking off but if I wasn’t mistaken there was a little light pink on his cheeks.

Pete's pov:

I was about to walk out the door to the goth area till I accidentally bumped into someone I looked in front of me to see the new kid ‘dang the new kid is kinda hot, wait why am I feeling these freaking conformist feelings, just leave like nothing ever happened’ I get up, took my stuff from the new kids hands, and walk away. I sat down next to the other goths and tried to forget this happened. But I can’t get that kid out of my mind. “PETE!”, Michael yelled, I snapped out of my thoughts “what?” I said harshly, “You been acting weird and quiet all day, what’s up?” Michael asks, “NOTHING, GOD!” I said with a bit of anger, “okay, geez.” Michael said

Y/n pov

‘That boy from earlier, there’s something about him that makes me feel like there’s butterflies in my stomach. Do I like him?’ The recess bell rung, which snapped me out of my thoughts. I wanted to find that kid from earlier, but were do I even start looking for him? I decided to play with some of the other kids, pretty soon I was able to get him off my mind for a bit

Pete's pov:

“We know you have a crush on that conformist just admit” Henrietta said. “Firck no!” I yelled but not loud enough for everyone to hear me. “Y’know if you like them, you could at least go talk to them.” Henrietta said. “Pfft whatever, imma head out.” I got up, and walked towards the new kid. I know I was a little harsh to my friends but they kept pestering me with questions.

Y/n pov:

After playing with some of the other kids I sat down to rest for a bit, but I saw they kid from earlier approach “um hey, I just want say you know, welcome to the school” He said, “oh, thank you.” I said with a soft smile. He paused for a second but then said “uh, I can show you around if you like.” He said “name's Pete by the way.” “Oh, thank you Pete I would love that.” I said calmly,

Time skip to a few months later:

(Still y/n pov btw)

I been friends with Pete for about a few months now. I was walking to my locker but as soon as I opened my locker door, a note flew out. I picked up the note and read it. It said “meet me at the cemetery at 7:30 -anonymous.” After I read the note I put it in my pocket. It was the end of the school day, I decided to walk around South Park a bit till the time reached 7:30. Time went by, since it was 7:00 I decided to get there early. Around 7:25 is when I arrived, I sat down and waited for the anonymous person to arrive, 7:30 right on time they arrived. It was Pete, “Pete what are you doing here, was you the one who wrote that note?” I said, Pete nodded “um (y/n), I had feelings for you for a while and I was wondering if you would like to go out with me sometime .” Pete said very quickly while holding a (f/f) out. “I’d love too.” I said calmly and with a smile. Pete blushed 50 shades of red while showing his rare smile. “Told y’all that Pete was in love with that conformist.” Henrietta said, “Conformists” Michael, and Frikle said.

(Ps: I don’t know why it keeps putting they words in bold, but hopefully you don’t mind. I really hope you enjoyed it)

#south park #south park x reader #south park x y/n #pete thelman #pete thelman x reader #south park goth kids #goth kids

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