#ghost dogs was my inspiration and i ran with it

[theweekendredhead]

Nancy Drew games according to Orla McCool from Derry Girls:

DOG:

VEN:

SSH:

SHA:

CLK:

HAU:

Bonus:

#ghost dogs was my inspiration and i ran with it #derry girls #Nancy drew games #orla mccool #james maguire #michelle mallon #Nancy drew #ghost dogs of moon lake #phantom of venice #secret of the scarlet hand #secret of shadow ranch #secret of the old clock #haunting of castle malloy

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

boys a liar

pairing: ethan landry x female!reader

WC: 3.5K

warnings: SPOILERS (tho you already know cause of the gif), cursing, (back)stabbing, blood. should be it!

summary: he said he would always protect you, he just never said anything about it being from him.

A/N: i got inspired by a charlie walker (scream4) edit where he was shushing kirby after he stabbed her. also don’t think tooo hard about the stab/blood loss logistics. it’s fictional.

been in the drafts since march 21

masterlist / ethan landry

Everything was in chaos. The trap for ghost face instantly goes south, like they usually do.

Kirby disappeared a minute after arriving at the theater leaving your group, Sam, Tara, Chad, you, and Ethan on your own. Unintentionally everyone split up, Chad and Tara going one way, and Sam another way, which left you and Ethan on your own.

The two of you decided to head to the balcony and sit near the railing. The second Ethan sat next to you, you leaned your head on his shoulder and slipped your hand into his, and gave a firm squeeze. Your heart was beating loudly in your ears, it was the only noise you could hear besides your breathing and Ethan’s with his puffs of air ruffling over your hair. Your eyes just stared blankly in front of you, the black robes of ghost faces past in your direct line of sight.

“I don’t like this.” An opinion you’ve withheld. You felt Ethan shifting his head, “I told you to stay home.” “Yeah, but my chances of getting killed would have been a lot bigger if I was separated. Plus I want to make sure you and everyone else are safe as well, we’re all making it out of this mess alive.” You squeezed his hand tighter before bringing it to your lips and kissing his knuckles.

The feeling of Ethan kissing your head made you feel just a bit lighter. You moved your head off his shoulder and stared into his warm brown eyes, his soft gaze fluttering your heart. With your free hand, you cupped his cheek and leaned in with your eyes drooping close, Ethan meeting you halfway. His plush lips were a simple touch of skin before he tilted just a bit, his nose pillowing into your cheek. Your lips moved in a simplistic dance, nothing heating up, just wanting to enjoy each other during a blissful moment of peace before an incoming storm tears it down.

You pulled away first, needing to catch your breath. Your lips were still close, noses bumping into each other and both smiled at the action. Your fingers danced over Ethan’s skin, feeling the texture and bumps, wanting to absorb it all into your skin.

“It’s gonna be fine, sweetheart. I won’t let anything happen to you.” His voice was low, a whisper to your lips. He ran his thumb over your hand. You peered through your lashes at him, “I know you’re lying, but thank you.” You couldn’t guarantee your safety, or anyone else’s. You rather keep your expectations low.

You fully pulled away from Ethan, his eyes watching your every move. You looked over the balcony and saw no one around, it caused worry to fester.

“We should probably regroup with the others,” you stood from your seat and turned to the stairs, but a hand wrapped around your wrist stopped you in your tracks and you looked over your shoulder, “I meant it. Everything is gonna be fine.” Ethan’s puppy dog eyes which would usually melt your insides and weaken your knees only caused a chill over your skin.

“Okay. I trust you.”

How you wish you could retract that statement.

-

The both of you checked different rooms of the theater, not finding Kirby or Sam. You found Tara and Chad… as they were kissing. You started to walk quietly out of the room when a blur of motion caught your attention.

“Look out!” You screamed, but it was no use as Tara got stabbed in the back by ghost face, Chad holding her body.

Ghost face pulled the knife out and just as he was preparing for another stab you rushed at him and grabbed his arm. The two of you struggled for the upper hand. He grabbed at your hair and yanked it causing your head to bend backward harshly making a yelp fall from your mouth. Being distracted by the tight pull of your hair, your hands loosened their grip on his arm and he took the opportunity to stab the knife into your stomach making you cry even louder. To make matters worse, he started to pull the knife down, ripping apart your muscle and skin tissue. You felt like you could pass out in a blink.

You heard someone scream your name and then you fell to the floor and the knife was yanked out, and your chest heaved for a steady breath. Your body was shaking and you touched a finger to your wound and it was instantly coated in slick blood. Your head was starting to get woozy, black dots were spotting your vision and the ground felt like it was being tipped like you were on a rocking boat in a rocky sea. A warm feeling graced your stomach and back, a breeze kissed your cheek and tickled your ear and if you could focus enough you could hear whimpers and pleading for you.

A hard press to your abdomen made you jerk forward from the floor and squeeze your eyes shut from pain. Your heart was beating frantically and your skin was feeling clammy, tiny sweat drops hitting your eye. Your hands clawed at the person’s hands and arms as they applied more pressure to stop the bleeding. You fluttered your eyes open, trying to keep yourself from slipping into the darkness and to see who was with you. Curly brunette hair was your answer.

“E- Ethan…” you groaned as he pushed harder, “stop, stop, stop! It hurts! You're hurting me!” Tears fell from the corner of your eyes as you tried pushing Ethan away.

“I know, I know, but I have to stop you from bleeding out. Sweetheart, please, come on. Hey, hey, just- just look at me, okay? Just look at me, let me see those eyes I love so much.” His voice was wavering every few words. You laid your head down on the floor, you still don’t know where in the theater, your eyes staring up at the ceiling as you gripped Ethan’s hands in a comforting way.

You didn’t want to die. You made it out of Woodsboro with the twins and the Carpenter sisters, but maybe this was some twisted thing from the universe. Only the siblings get to live in this new franchise, as Mindy would put it. You didn’t want to die. You wanted to live a normal life, not have to watch your back for the rest of your life just because someone was obsessed with horror movies and given ideas by the killers. You didn’t want to die. You wanted more time with your boyfriend, Ethan. The two of you only dated a few months, but you wanted years with him, a lifetime with him.

“I- I don’t wa- want to die… Ethan. Pl- Please.” You choked on sobs and it only caused more pain to flare up.

“It’s gonna be okay, it’ll be over soon. You just need to hold on a little longer.” He moved a hand from your stomach and caressed your cheek, the feeling of your blood touching your skin making the intimate gesture vile.

There was something within his eyes that flickered like a switch. One minute he was looking at you like you painted stars in the sky and the next it was like he was looking at the person he hated most in the worst, a nasty grimace tugging at his beautiful lips.

The hand touching your cheek slipped down and down until it wrapped around your throat and squeezed, tight. Air immediately was cut off and you grabbed at his wrist and tried to pull him away, but he was a lot stronger and in stable condition. You felt his other hand move away but you didn’t notice how he grabbed something from behind him and kept it away from your eye line. He leaned in close, his breath skating across your redding face. You pushed a hand into his face, but he pushed it into the ground and you winched from an unknown object pressing into your wrist.

“You know, (Y/n), I just wanted you to know you were my first girlfriend. And it was a real pleasure for me, first kiss at a party while slightly tipsy, classic. First intimate time together while watching a movie, another classic. Also thank you for taking my virginity, you were lovely.” He sighed, “Honestly… I don’t think anyone after you will be topped. An added bonus, you survived the Woodsboro killings, like come on!” You continue to struggle in his hold as he speaks to your face.

“You know, it was my sister's idea- try and get someone to fall for me. A good killer always has a love interest. And I’ll also be honest… I really like you, maybe even love you, but you have a purpose to fulfill. Along with everyone else.”

“Wha- What is- Fuck you!” “Such a pretty face with a vulgar mouth.” He squeezed tighter and even shook your head. “Now, where was- oh! Right! Well, we’ve reached the third act, as Mindy would say and so it’s time to make some killings.”

In a flash, a blinding heat crept up your side and you tried to gasp for air you couldn’t retrieve. You scratched and clawed at Ethan’s arm just for a simple gulp of air. The pain only worsened when he twisted, you assume a knife, in your side making the spots come back.

He removed his hand just as you were about to pass out and he pulled the knife out before going back in. You screamed and cried, the pain only amplified by the person causing it. You stopped fighting, your will to live slipping from your buttery fingers.

“Shush, shush, it’s okay. Everything is okay.” Ethan cooed in your ear as he stroked your hair from your damp skin. You don’t know what was worse, that he was comforting you just as he stabbed you and broke your heart or that you enjoyed the tiny hint of the other Ethan.

He dropped the bloody knife beside you and held your face between his hands, gentle as always, and he kissed your forehead. You eye the knife and make small moves inching closer. He moved from your forehead to your nose to your right cheek then your left. He pulled just an inch or two away as he looked into your blurry eyes, his thumbs stroking your sweaty skin. At this moment you decided to indulge in the sweet kisses, needing just something, anything. So as Ethan leaned back in you closed your eyes, hand closing around the knife hilt, and got swept away by the familiar rhythm of kissing your boyfriend. Soft and slow, taking all the time in the world to just memorize each other before pulling away.

“You could have been spared if you didn’t help kill him.” He whispered to your lips. His breath hit your wet and parted lips. “Him? Who’s him?” “My brother.” He sighed.

Your brows furrowed, “bro- brother? You- you said he died in -“ “oh, you sweet dumb thing. I’ll spell it out for you. Richie.” Your eyes widened.

“He- he and Amber- they tried to kill us! For a- a- a stupid movie! It was self-defense!”

“And what we’re doing as a family is getting revenge. Hope you understand, sweetheart.”

Your nostrils flared as you got a tight grip and looked directly into his eyes with a straight smile, “and this is just self-defense.” The blade sunk into the meat of Ethan’s side and it pushed him off your body and to the floor beside you. “Hope you understand,” you voiced his words back as you scrambled away, your body screaming at you to stop. Your adrenaline is the only thing keeping you upright.

-

You weren’t sure where you were running to, turning corners, and being met with a locked door before you had to retrace your steps and go a different route. You found yourself stumbling back into the snack area of the theater and you whimpered as you found Chad lying on the floor with blood coating his Blackmore university hoodie. You wanted to walk to him and check if he was breathing but Tara and Sam were missing and you hadn’t run into Kirby yet.

With a shot of pain and blood spilling with each step, you pushed forward. A hand pressed to the wall was your anchor as you traveled back to the shrine, hoping you’ll find someone alive and not the killer. As you got closer to where you remembered the main theater was, you could hear voices talking, overlapping, or yelling over each other.

As you turned a final corner you peered into the room making sure you were still hidden in the shadows for now. The glass boxes blocked the view but you could see the backs of Sam and Tara, their heads moving as the people around them spoke. You looked further into the room and gasped. Detective Bailey stood with two ghost faces beside him, masks still on their faces. You already knew who one of them was, Ethan, the one with a hand to their side. But the second one you couldn’t think of who, it couldn’t have been Mindy… it just couldn’t have…. could it?

“Mindy?” You heard Sam voice your thoughts after Ethan pulled his mask away. How his face and smile still made your heart thump rapidly.

The final killer revealed themself, “Quinn?” Tara was flabbergasted as was Sam and you along with them as you decided to make yourself known. Probably a bad idea, but you were losing brain cells the longer you bled out, and your decision-making wasn’t the wisest at the moment.

On shaky legs, you made your way to your friends. With a glance to the ground you saw Kirby, beaten and bloody, but her chest was moving so that was a relief. A bloody hand touched each glass case as you walked further, needing all the help to push forward.

“Ah, I was wondering where she went. Seems Ethan already had some fun with her.” “Well, I was the first to get her since she intervened with Tara and Chad.”

Sam and Tara turned your way and the looks on their faces made you feel a bit of relief to know they were worried about you just as you were with them. Tara made her way to you but was stopped by Ethan who stood in front of you and swung the knife in front of her like she was a feral animal.

“Don’t! Don’t touch her, only I can touch her.” He kept the knife held high as he rounded yourself and threw an arm over your stomach and pulled you into his chest. A grunt came out from the impact. His solid frame and weight were a nice wall to keep you upright, so you leaned your head against his collarbones and held his arm as you slumped a bit.

“See. She wants me, always.” “She’s fucking bleeding out, dumbass!” Tara yelled at him as she kept her eyes on you.

“Well, Quinn got a bit too aggressive-“ “Fuck off, lover boy.” “- And I stabbed her two times. But she’s a survivor, she already survived a few stabbings in Woodsboro.” He kissed your temple and in your haze, you smiled at the touch. “She can survive a few more.”

“What the fuck do you even want from us? Can’t you horror freaks leave us the hell alone?” Sam sneered at the three.

“This isn’t about movies. Not a fan of the genre, but my oldest fell in love with them. He wanted to make his own Stab movie since he said the last one wasn't like the originals. But he died before he could, his death is on your hands.” Bailey pointed his gun at Sam.

“Wh- what the hell are you talking about?”

“Ri- Richie.” You muttered out since you knew the answer to her question.

“What does Richie-“ “He was our brother, you fucking bitch.” Quinn pushed Sam in the chest causing her to stumble backward into a display.

“E- Ethan… p-please,” you slid down his chest, his arms holding you tight as your knees touched the floor and he placed your head in his lap. “You’ll be okay sweetheart. After all this we’ll get you to the hospital, I can make an exception for you.” His black glove stroked your cheek. He moved from under you and laid you down between displays and that’s when you passed out.

-

You felt like you were thrown under a bus and driven over multiple times. Loud beeps echoed in your ears and you wished to block them out but you couldn’t lift your arms without your muscles aching. You tried prying your eyes open, they felt heavy and crusty, your lashes fluttering in your vision. The white light of the room hurt your head and you hissed at the brightness.

You were able to move your head from side to side to look around the hospital room. You were met with Sam hunched over her lap as she twiddled with her fingers, as her hair covered her face.

“S- Sam.” Your cracked voice called out to her making her head jerk up, a smile came to her lips and her eyes were shining.

“Oh thank god. We thought- you passed out as the three of them went after us. I shot Quinn and Killed Bailey…”

“And Ethan?” “Tara stabbed him through the mouth and then somehow he lived to run at us before Kirby pushed a TV onto his head.” She rolled her lips and looked at her hands that rested atop your bedding next to your thigh.

“Oh.” You don’t know what you expected to hear. A part of you was glad that Ethan was dead, he tried to kill you and your friends. But… you’ll miss him. It was like you saw him as two different people. Ethan Landry was sweet and gentle, soft-spoken and smart, and a bit awkward around girls. And then this Ethan… if he was related to Bailey and Quinn, then he was Ethan Bailey in that theater. Getting revenge for his brother no matter what the consequences are, stabbing you and taunting you, using your love for him against you.

“I’m sorry.” Sam touched your arm. “For what,” you shrugged your shoulders and played with a loose string from the blanket.

“That the boy you loved used it against you and manipulated you. After- after what happened in Woodsboro… you were so quiet, closed off. You barely let the four of us in and it scared us. But when Chad started to bring Ethan around and more comfortable with the group… We saw you slowly let your guard down. And I can’t be one to judge, I always have my guard up and I’ll fully be on your side if your wall goes back up as well. It was just really nice to see you be a bit free, enjoying life with a boy you liked and hanging with your friends in a new city.”

The tears rolled from your eyes and down your cheeks silently as you listened to Sam’s words. Ethan helped you be comfortable with yourself again and he just broke it all over again.

“The universe hates us, doesn't it?” You laughed through the tears and Sam joined in, agreeing with you, “but it’s making us stronger. For what? I have no fucking clue.”

You wiped away the salty water, “uh, where’s- where’s Tara and Mindy? Did- Did Chad live?”

“Everyone is alive. Mindy and Tara are with Chad right now since he woke up before you. But I can go get them if you want?” She started to pull away, “no, no. I’m fine with just the two of us for now.” You didn’t want to be alone for even a second.

“Why don’t you go back to sleep? You could use some more rest.” She pushed the hair away from your face, a motherly, sisterly gesture that warmed your heart.

You complied and shuffled around in the tiny bed and closed your eyes. You hoped to dream of warm afternoons, a cool breeze that tangled your hair and kissed your cheeks. You hoped for a nice place in New York with your friends- your family, all of you laughing and dancing around as music played in the background. You dreamed of a fantasy far away in your mind of a tall boy with fluffy hair and gentle eyes, how he would smile at you sickly sweet like honey and he would open his arms for you to run into and give you tight squeezes. He would leave kisses over your face before diving into your lips and melding them together before letting his tongue slip in and his hands would hold your neck as he pushed further. You would pull away just to catch a breath and you both would giggle like school children before you tucked your face into his neck and you would mumble the words into his skin.

“I love you”

...

@astrxq (fellow ethan lover)

#ethan landry imagine #ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x female!reader #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry angst #scream 6 #scream vi #scream 6 image #scream 6 x reader #jack champion

[sadisticsongbird]

shining through ~ wednesday addams

summary: request given by anonymous - "can I request either prompt 29 or prompt 47 for Wednesday?" - #29 - giggling while kissing

warnings: nothing

word count: 1.1k

a/n: i honestly had no clue what to write for this prompt, but then I was watching friends and that one scene where rachel laughs when ross touches her butt while they're making out sparked inspiration...

You and Wednesday didn’t have a lot of opportunities to be alone. Enid was like a puppy dog and followed your girlfriend around everywhere. At first you found it cute, but when it started to interfere with your guys alone time, it made you a bit annoyed. You two would sneak off like you were now, only if for a few minutes. Wednesday wasn’t exactly the one to initiate physical contact, but she would be lying if she said she didn’t like it when you did. Emotions weren’t an easy thing to come to her and it made her more comfortable when you started things. You were on your way back to her room now that Enid was with her boyfriend. That would give the two of you at least a few minutes. 

“Wednesday, move faster. Enid and Ajax are like rabbits. Alone time won’t last long.”

She rolled her eyes, trying her best to hide a smile, but you caught it. Her steps grew faster behind you to catch up. 

You entered the room before her, opening the door and plopping on her bed, face first. She came in shortly after and you sat up when she came in. You readjusted yourself so that you were on the side of her bed. She walked over to you and you were quick to grab her arm. Pulling her down onto the bed, you traded spots with her and slotted yourself between her legs. You ran your fingers over her braids that always seemed to be intricately put together, not a hair loose. Each time you got closer to her jaw, you could hear her breathing become shallower. When you finally stopped making her nervous, you cupped her jaw and pulled yourself towards her. For such a violent and dark personality, she was surprisingly tender when it came to kissing you. It wasn’t that she was afraid you’d break, just that you were quite possibly the one person in the world that she didn’t want to hurt. She was often hesitant at first, but the moment that your hand met hers, she relaxed. You were her first relationship and it was new territory for her. Luckily, you were good at calming the tenseness in her. When you both got more comfortable, you moved your lips, trailing them down her sharp jaw. Your body followed suit, and the black haired girl fell back onto her mattress. Her legs closed as you kneeled over top of her. You kept one hand on her jaw and the other holding you up. Wednesday always loved it when you would lightly peck her skin, reminding her of a ghost’s touch which for her was a thrilling feeling. She leaned her head back slightly as her free hand came down to rest on your chest, the tips of her fingers tracing your collarbone. Wednesday always had an electrifying touch and it made you excited when she let herself become lost in the moment. Your lips moved further down to nibble on her ear lobe and something on the other side of the room caught your eye. 

You didn’t mean to, but you let out a huge laugh at the sight on Enid’s bed. Wednesday’s demeanor quickly changed, scooting away from under you and sitting up at the opposite edge of the bed. 

“Oh my God, amor. I’m so sorry.” You still were giggling softly, but tried to subside it so as not to make the situation worse than it already was. 

“You laughed at me.” She was clearly upset, and you understood why. She wasn’t the most comfortable with things like this and if she thought that you were laughing at her, all those doors that you had worked on opening would close again. 

“No, no, no. I wasn’t laughing at you, please mi corazón. It was just the-” You fell into a fit of giggles again, sliding off the bed onto the floor opposite of her. “Just look at Enid’s bed.”

Atop Wednesday’s roommates bed laid a giant bear that looked made out of scrap pieces of fabric. The button eyes were uneven, one of them looking like it was about to fall out of its socket, and there was barely a snout. The face was flat and the smile that broke out across its face looked like it was constipated. Wednesday looked over but made no sound. Either she found it somewhat funny and just didn’t laugh or she wasn’t amused by the situation at all. And you were guessing it was the latter. 

“Wednesday, please. I’m sorry,” you mumbled, standing up to place your hand on her knee. Once you were in a stable position on the bed, you placed your other hand under her chin. Her eyes were unreadable, just dark as normal. You didn’t know what was going through her mind right now, but you guessed it wasn’t happy thoughts. You moved toward her and initiated a kiss once more. But Wednesday wasn’t having it. She kissed you back of course, but she was tense. You tried moving your hand up and down her thigh, but it didn’t do any good. Her hands stayed in her lap and when you tried to grab one of them, she wrestled it out of your grasp and disconnected her lips from yours. Moving from her place on the bed, she walked over to the window. 

“You should go.” She wouldn’t even look at you, keeping her gaze out the window. 

“Wednesday-”

“Go.”

You got up from your place on the bed, but didn’t move. You knew that she was upset. And how could she not. You laughed while the two of you were kissing, when she was finally growing out of her shell, when she was finally comfortable enough with you to show emotion. You felt horrible and as much as you should leave her alone, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave without comforting her first. You walked straight behind her and wrapped your arms around her waist. She didn’t struggle away from you this time, letting you rest your chin on her shoulder. 

“I’m sorry for laughing. But believe me when I say I wasn’t laughing at you. You are finally letting some of your emotions shine through, and I’m SO proud of you…” She didn’t say anything, just adjusted herself a little, cuddling into you more. “I love you.”

“Yo también te amo, mi amor.” 

You moved your head to place a soft kiss on her cheek and relaxed right back against her. The both of you stayed at the window, swaying and staring at the moon.

#wednesday addams #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams fluff #requestsforyou

[meowcatsposts]

Hey there I have an idea for an avatar the way of water fic its slightly angsty but hear me out pls!

So y/n sully, has been missing for most of the day and no one seemed to notice, until they show up at ronals hut cover in bruises, cuts from weapons, even the hair on there que has been choped off and there que has cuts on it. All of this was caused by the teens of the village, who brought them outside of the reef and attacked them, leaving them for dead. Y/n is a tired, bloody mess chooses to run to there bansie/ikran with the plan to leave. And well they do and no one noticed they left, not even there family. Only ao'nung noticed and it shook him with grief, he loved y/n.

Whether or not y/n comes back, is up to you! You don't haft to write the part where y/n gets the crap beat out of them if u don't want! Thank u!

Alone [Ao'nung]

✎⁾⁾⁾ notes:

angsty at first!

reader is metkayina & characters are probably OOC

I really needed some inspiration, so tysm for your idea anon! I'm also really sorry it took me so long to write this, I hope you'll forgive me 🙏

I changed some things from the req to fit my previous story, I hope you're alright with it!

Overview: You get beaten up by some assholes who happen to not like the Sullys, so you run away. Heartbroken, Ao'nung sets out to find you.

Ronal stifled a horrified gasp. Gashes, everywhere. Deep purple bruises, all over your skin.

“Who did this to you?” she whispered madly. “Come.”

Every touch, no matter how light, stung sharply. Why me? you thought bitterly. Hot tears welled in your eyes but you furiously blinked them back, refusing to give in to the hurt. Time blurred by and you vaguely recalled Ronal asking you a few questions, but couldn’t remember what. Was it about your queue? The blood? Everything seemed to fade away, and you couldn’t care less.

You were gliding across the water with your ilu now. At least those pricks didn’t dare to touch your ride; they were smart enough for that, it seemed. Its hide was smooth, no blemishes in sight, and a tiny smile threatened to ghost your lips. The salty sea, on the other hand, burned your skin raw, but you paid no heed to it. Your heart ached far worse. 

Tenderly, you ran your aching fingers over the piece of fine jewelry on your neck, thinking of how badly you wished for Ao’nung to be here with you. You reminisced about the day he gifted it to you. How red his cheeks burned, and how red yours were, too. Another sad smile ghosted your lips. What would he think of you now? Gone and grieving, probably. You loved him, so so much and you choked up with tears. Maybe you could leave Awa’atlu and find another island. Find different, kinder people. But to leave Ao’nung behind…

You gazed down at your ilu, and it whistled somberly.

Ao’nung wondered where you were. He hadn’t seen you all day, and it was driving him mad. Did he say something to upset you, to hurt you? Heart pounding, he combed through your conversations in his head. To his relief, nothing. Then…surely you were curled up in your marui, feeding the tiny fish, right? He had to be right. 

But he was utterly, terribly wrong. 

There was no sign of you no matter how hard he looked, and his stomach began to churn. His heart raced. His breath ran short. Where were you? Maybe you were lounging at the seawall terraces, where the both of you would share stories together. Not there. By the shore, playing with Tuk and the ilu? Not there, either. In the Sully family’s marui? No. Heck, he even asked Neteyam and Lo’ak about your whereabouts, but the boys just pursed their lips and shook their heads. Ao’nung searched everywhere like a rabid dog, his eyes blown wide, ears keen to any sound of you. He needed to know where you were. He was utterly empty without you.

Finally having enough he stormed into his family marui, tail thrashing and ears flattened. A pungent aroma attacked his senses, but he couldn’t care less–at least for now. In his sight appeared his mother, sitting on the woven floor and grinding furiously.

“Where’s (Y/N)?” he pressed. Sure, he knew to keep his temper in check–especially around his parents–but this was about you. He had to know.

“I don’t know.” Ronal’s eyes were as somber as his, as she huffed, “I asked questions, but no answer.” Her eyes flickered back to the mortar in front of her. In it was the source of the odor–a paste, still gritty. 

“What’s the salve for?” Ao’nung pressed. His heart sunk, just a little lower; deep inside, he knew what it was for. He just knew.

Ronal pursed her lips, knowing her son would hate her answer. 

“(Y/N) came in with wounds. So many of them…” She sighed, pressing and swirling the pestle. Her face was torn with anguish, and so was her son’s. “I don’t know who did it, and I tried to ask, but nothing.”

Ao’nung paced around madly. The only assholes who’d even think of hurting you was that dishonorable, abhorrent lot. Sure, maybe he’d been one of them, but not enough to hurt. Never enough to hurt. Ronal gazed at her son worriedly, for it was a first of him to be this uptight. She could feel the bitterness boiling over him.

“Ao’nung–” she started. The last thing she wanted was her son missing, too.

“I’m going to find (Y/N).” 

And with that, Ao’nung flew out of the marui.

“Ao’nung!” Ronal rushed out after him, but it was too late. He was gone.

It was nightfall now. The waters turned black, and dim candescence webbed its cool surface. You sighed, tears pricking at your eyes. You were tired, hungry, and hurting, and your ilu was, too. It didn’t help that murky thoughts clouded your mind, either. Your ilu chirped forlornly so you stroked its neck, littered with luminous marks, in hopes of soothing it. Guilt overcame you. Perhaps it was better to return, you thought. The poor creature was suffering as much as you, after all. Biting your lip, you rubbed your glittering necklace between your fingers. What would Ao’nung be doing now? you wondered. Is he wondering where you went? Did his heart ache as much as yours did? Was he even looking for you? More tears burned your eyes as they threatened to spill over and you suppressed a shudder as another wave of anguish crashed into you and then–

“(Y/N)!” 

Ao’nung.

“(Y/N)!” 

You’d recognize that voice anywhere. How could you not? The sweet voice that calms your nerves. The rough voice that you roll your eyes at. It was so long–too long–since you’ve heard him, and your heart leapt with joy? Fear? You couldn’t tell, but one thing was certain: it was him. Him whose gaze turned soft when looking at you. Him who could listen to you talk forever. Him, who was home. But what were you going to tell him? Would he listen this time? You steadied your breath and gripped the handle between your ilu’s queues tighter, eyes flitting to find him.

“Ao’nung…? Wh–”

The ocean engulfed you, cold water rushing all over your skin. When you broke the surface Ao’nung was there, right in front of you. 

“I missed you,” he cried, taking you into his arms. “I missed you so much.” 

He held you tight and stroked your hair with shaky hands. He almost lost you, after all. 

“It took me so long to find you…I didn’t know where you were,” he blubbered. “I looked everywhere, you know, and I still couldn’t find you! I was about to give up, but–” Ao’nung cleared his throat, remembering he needed to be strong for you. After taking a few shaky breaths he murmured beside your ear, “But now you’re here. With me.” 

Tears poured down your cheeks. Your heart pounded against your ribcage. Just for a little moment, just for a little, you forgot about the pain. You hugged Ao’nung just as tight–even tighter, perhaps–feeling his warmth against your cold fingers. The tears wouldn’t stop as they ran in streams down your face, onto Ao’nung’s shoulder. He couldn’t care one bit; you were in his arms, alive, and that’s what mattered. His hands tenderly ghosted over your back, your nape and arms, and they rested on your waist as he pulled slowly back to look at you. To his dismay you shrunk away, trying hard to hide your battered body. 

“Look at me.” Ao’nung sighed as he wiped the tears beading at the corners of your eyes.

Open wounds littered your skin. They screamed at Ao’nung, and his blood boiled. Who dare touch you like that? He bit his lip to suppress the slew of curses bubbling in his throat. Not in front of you. Not now. That’d be saved for later, he decided. 

You shifted under Ao’nung’s intense scrutiny. Thinking it’d help him calm down, you cupped his face and whispered, “Look, the necklace you gave me.”

Ao’nung’s gaze drifted to your neck, and a smile ghosted his lips. You still had his gift on–a sign you were his, and his only. It was tarnished, sure, but it was there, resting beautifully on your skin. He slid his fingers through yours and squeezed tightly. 

“Let’s go back,” he said, tilting his head toward the ilu. “Together.”

blue line dividers by @/firefly-graphics

#avatar way of water #na'vi #na'vi x reader #aonung #aonung x reader #avatar 2 #metkayina #avatar #avatar x reader

[eufezco]

EDDIE MUNSON X FEM!READER

REQUEST — Begging you to do a Eddie inspired by this TikTok https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMNScuy5B/?k=1

english isn't my first language 🙏🏻

You've never liked Steve Harrington. He was an arrogant and you thanked the moment you graduated because that way you wouldn't have to see him anymore. But somehow you kept seeing him, every day. He started hanging out with Dustin and your group of friends, he was always around. At first it felt like the worst thing that could've happened to you, like he was an intruder. You barely talked to each other and when you two were left alone together it was the most uncomfortable thing in the world. But eventually your relationship with him changed, you fought the Demo-Dogs together, you got trapped in a secret Russian base together and now you worked at Family Video, together as well. He became your best friend, your ride-or-die, you hated to admit it but he wasn't King Steve anymore. He had changed.

Eddie was already your boyfriend when you started hanging out with Steve, him been worried that Harrington wouldn't have changed as you said and that he'd be just tricking you. You've known Eddie all your life. Your friendship with Steve reminded him of yours before dating. You were kids when you met, his hair was buzz but he was still the most handsome boy the little y/n had ever seen, making her feel a weird sensation in the pit of her stomach every time she saw him walking into the cafeteria looking for her. Little Eddie could feel his cheeks grow hot and turn pink, and his knees go week as he walked towards the little girl. You grew up together. Eddie was your first kiss, your first date, and your first best friend. As you grew older you eventually started looking at each other with different eyes, not like kids anymore. You both needed more of each other, that's when you realized it was more than just a friendship.

Eddie liked that you had built such a strong bond with Steve and just because of that you were willing for them to meet. Sadly that never happened, at least you never got to introduce Eddie to Steve as you boyfriend because the metalhead broke up with you before having to run after being accused of killing Chrissy.

"Are you okay? You look like a ghost." Steve's hand laid on your forehead, he frowned after feeling a normal body temperature. You were putting the returned tapes in their places. The thing is that you really did feel bad, your stomach roaring but just the idea of eating something made you want to puke. Puke. Made you want to puke. The tapes fell off your hands as you ran to the bathroom of the store, Steve following you and holding your hair in a ponytail after you fell to your knees in front of the toilet.

"It's okay. It's okay, just let it out." Your eyes were filled with tears while you vomited everything you've eaten in the last twenty-four hours. Steve flushed the toilet once you were done and left you alone to come back with his bottle of water so you could rinse your mouth. He sat down with you in the bathroom floor, waiting for you to recompose or to drive you home. The tears didn't stop rolling down your cheeks, not even after finishing puking. That's when you realized you weren't crying because of the vomit.

"My period." Steve frowned. "Your period? You need a pad or a ta—?"

"It's the second month I've missed my period. Last month I thought— I thought It was just a one-time thing, my period is never regular so I thought I just needed to wait. But this month—" You couldn't continue. Steve nodding, letting you know that he got what you were trying to say. Should he congratulate you? Should he ask you about what you wanted to do with it? He finally opted for not saying anything, which you deeply thanked. You spent the rest of your shift hiding in the bathroom, Steve coming inside every now and then to check that you were okay and assisting the customers for you. He had to call Robin because it was Saturday and he couldn't deal with all the work alone. When he told you Robin was coming, you told him to ask her if she could buy a pregnancy test for you which Robin did without complaining but with a bunch of questions. Steve answered them all for you.

Two lines. You were pregnant.

You threw the pregnancy test away and went out of the bathroom. Steve was changing the sign on the door from open to close and Robin was counting the money in the cash register. They both turned to look at you and because of your decomposed face, they knew the result of the test. Before they could ask anything, you three closed the store and got into Steve's car, you in the back seat and Robin in the passenger's seat next to Steve.

"What are you going to do with it?"

"I'm having it." Robin was surprised by how sure you were.

"Is it Eddie's?"

"Of course It's Eddie's!"

Who else could it be? You hadn't been with anyone else since your break up, you hadn't been with anyone else in your life and you weren't planning on doing it before he broke up with you. Also, you've been busy working and helping Dustin to figure out how to prove Eddie's innocence. The kid found out where he was hiding a few weeks ago, and your stomach flipped when you saw him again. Eddie's worst nightmare of you getting involved in the mess he was in became true after seeing you walk into the cabin.

When you told the rest of the group they had the same reaction as Steve. They didn't know if they should be happy or if they should make an appointment with your doctor. Eddie couldn't even look into your eyes, staring at the floor all the time and playing with his rings nervously. He knew that since he broke up with you, you've been even closer to Steve. After getting to know him, he was glad that you had him with you. As your best friend. But what surprised Eddie was knowing that you two were a thing now.

"And... how far along are you now?" Nancy asked curiously, the girl just knew about your pregnancy and was curious about it. "Two months." Nancy nodded, showing you a little smile. You had never been really close to her, but you could see on her face that she was happy for you and supported your decision. Eddie looked up from the floor, looking at you for the first time, your eyes still focused on Nancy as she asked you how you were feeling. He broke up with you not even a month ago. Two months ago you were still together. Eddie's eyes connected with Steve's, your best friend behind you, and leaning on an old shelf, staring at Eddie with his arms crossed. Steve shook his head at Eddie when he noticed that Eddie realized what was going on, it was better if Eddie didn't say anything right now but the possibility of you cheating on him with Steve made him ignore the boy behind you.

"Y/n, two months ago we were still together." Nancy went silent, Dustin's body tensing and making him adjust his position on the sofa. Steve ran one of his hands over his face, Robin and Max looking at you out of the corner of their eyes; the first girl because she was checking up on you, trying to act as if she didn't know anything about who the real father was and the second one because she was surprised by this twist. "Hmm- I don't think we were anymore." You shook your head, Eddie raising his eyebrows at you. "I need air." You stated and went out of the cabin. It was a really wet place, maybe that's why Eddie's hair was curly all the time, and that, plus the uncomfortable situation you were going through with your friends made not enough air going to your lungs. Eddie got up from his seat immediately and went out after you, Steve following him outside instead of trying to stop him. It was a great chance for the three of you to talk. You were walking away from the boathouse, Eddie didn't care that he could be seen.

"Don't do that, y/n. You know we were still together two months ago."

"It's Steve's okay? Steve is the father." You turned around to look at Eddie. You knew he was following you because you hear his footsteps after you. Steve allowed you to say it was his, he would do anything for you even if that included raising a child. He loves kids anyways. But after seeing Eddie's defeated expression, this didn't seat right with him anymore. When you looked at Eddie, Steve was behind him. "So you cheated on me." You couldn't believe he even thought about you cheating on him, but you didn't show him any sign that you didn't, you just stood there and turned your back to him, wanting to get to Steve's car. Eddie bit the inside of his cheek, tears began to form in his eyes and him doing his best to hold them back. Since he broke up with you, you've barely talked to each other, just you asking him how was he doing and him asking you the same. But now he really needed to talk to you, and he also needed you to talk to him. "Look man—" Steve got in Eddie's way, interrupting his thoughts and trying to have a converstion with him in the most pacific way as the boy tried to reach you again. "I'm not talking to you, Harrington." Eddie shook his head, walking past Steve and hardly bumping his shoulder against Steve's, making Steve tremble on his feet. Steve let out a huff, recomposing his posture, and blocked Eddie's way again, Steve's hands pushing Eddie's shoulders back. "Back off, Munson."

"Or what?" Eddie confronted Steve. He was sure that that kid was his. As much as you wanted to make everyone, he and yourself believe that it was Harrington's, Eddie knew that two months ago you were still together and that you would never cheat on him. "Hey!" You turned around, angry at their behavior. Steve had his fists twisted in Eddie's t-shirt, your ex-boyfriend with his arm up in the air aiming at Steve's face. You walked in between them, pushing Eddie's shoulders, making him take a few steps backwards to not fall. "You broke up with me! You left, Eddie, you left me because you didn't think I could take all of this shit you're in! Now, It's me who thinks you can't take this. So stop following me and go back to the fucking boathouse before anyone sees you."

That night Steve went back to talk to Eddie. Both men sat at the wharf, their legs dangling but far from touching the water. At first, Eddie was hesitant to talk with Steve, rolling his eyes and going back to reading the comic Dustin brought him when he saw it was Steve. "We need to talk." Your best friend was as uncomfortable as Eddie was with his presence after what happened. Steve went and sat first, Eddie going after knowing that Harrington wouldn't leave until he said what he needed to say.

"Does she know you came here?" Steve shook his head, mumbling a soft 'no'. Eddie let out a sad chuckle. Just as he thought, Steve came on his own because you didn't want to know anything about him. "You left her. You don't leave a girl like y/n." Steve was annoyed by Eddie's little laugh. He looked at the man sitting next to him, he stopped smiling and there was no sign on his face that he was doing it any time soon. "You've definitely never been accused of murder, Harrington."

"Don't bullshit me." Steve said and shook his head at the same time. "You know that baby is not mine." He confessed to Eddie, his eyes shining in contrast to his sad expression. "And you know I still love her." Eddie confessed to Steve, he nodded at his words. "I wouldn't forgive myself if I would've gotten her involve in this." That was the part that Steve didn't believe. He had seen you cry for Eddie, kicking your feet while talking about how much you loved Eddie, angry at him because of how much loved him, and now carrying his child. Eddie had known you for much longer than Steve yet he seemed not to know the things you'd do for the ones you love. Especially for the love of your life. "She has been involved in this for three years now. She's been by my side killing creatures from hell itself, risking her life going into another dimension for her friends, fighting against Russian soldiers but you know what I've never seen her doing? Backing out. You didn't even give her the chance to help you, you just pushed her away. And I'm not saying you deserve any of this..."

Eddie rested his forehead on his knees, covering his face from Steve's sight. They sat there in silence, for the first time it wasn't awkward, Eddie thanking Steve's company and Steve giving Eddie some time. "You can't tell her I told you, you know, that the baby is not mine. I promised not to tell you, I'm breaking her trust in me just by coming here." Steve got up from the floor, cleaning his hands on his jeans. Eddie nodded, he mumbled a soft 'thank you' to Steve, him replying with just a grimace.

Steve left, leaving Eddie alone there again, in the same position he'd been for the past fifteen minutes. He wanted you back, he wanted to raise that kid with you and form the family you've always dreamed about. How could he have done that to you? God, he felt like an idiot, but he'd do anything to have you back.

#stranger things #stranger things fluff #stranger things angst #stranger things smut #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things headcanons #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson headcanons #steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington headcanon

[remapped-soul]

for the fic title thing i'm roughly translating part of an italian indie song

"where i'm from a kiss and a goodbye are the same thing"

in Italian: "da dove vengo io un bacio ed un addio sono la stessa cosa"

brocedes? rosquez? it's your pick, i'm in a angsty mood 😃

so. i know im half a year late. but. i hope this little ficlet i got for you will be worth it. all the angst and all that. i took the kiss part and ran away with it. inspiration suddenly arrived after ghosting me for months. also, this snippet is part of a bigger universe, set in the 5+1 au (the fabio fic on my ao3), sometime in the future.

Marc goes looking for Fabio, but he finds Valentino Rossi. Draped across the couch like he owns the place, Valentino looks up when Marc enters the motorhome as if he expected this all along. He merely blinks in Marc's direction before his focus shifts back to scrolling on his phone.

The door closes behind Marc with a soft sound. Fabio is nowhere in sight. Neither is Tom. No one enters Fabio's place without Tom's approval, but with Valentino here, Marc guesses Tom has been updated on the latest arrangements.

Marc stalls, unsure what to do. He planned this with Fabio a weekend ago. The time, the place. Did he forget? The idea sits wrong in the pit of his stomach. Marc could leave, try another time, but he has an interview in thirty minutes, a meeting with his team right after. Training and physio later in the evening. Beauty sleep at nine if he wants a decent race tomorrow.

Fabio wouldn't stand him up unless it was important.

Marc could leave. "Do you know where he is?" He asks instead, choosing English as his language, even if he speaks Italian as well. Neither here nor there, but meeting on neutral ground. They always yelled at each other in Italian. Valentino shrugs. "Do you know when he will be back?"

Valentino shrugs again. Doesn't even look up. Marc grits his teeth. He breathes in and remembers his agreement with Fabio, his love not finite, but so abundant he feels the need to share. At the end of the day, Fabio returns to him no matter what, but as Marc looks at Valentino, he is not so sure anymore.

Marc tries again. He always did. For Fabio he will always try. "Can you tell Fabio I looked for him? We had something planned. He…he knows why."

Valentino looks up at that, finally putting his phone away.

"I speak Spanish, you know?" He smiles, Spanish words rolling easily on his tongue. "I'm not sure when blondie will be back, but--" His eyes glint, and Marc bites his tongue to keep himself from snapping at Valentino. Valentino smiles like he knows this. "Can I help you with something?"

"It's fine," Marc replies in stilted English. He needs to get out of here. "I'll talk to him later." He needs to go before--

"I can help you with the arm."

Marc wants to scream.

"No, thank you." Marc had enough. He turns to leave before--

"Marc."

Before something happens. Something like this.

Marc freezes, ignores the stirring in his veins. Valentino hasn't called him by his name in so long. For fuck's sake.

"What?" Marc's Italian has always been harsher than his native tongue, than English. It's a blade sharpened to cut. He spins on his heels, feels his nostrils flare as he looks at Valentino, at the unreadable expression on his face. "What do you think you can do?"

Valentino gets up from the couch, hands raised slightly as if he is facing a rabid dog. Marc feels like one, heart pulsing on his ears, in the back of his throat. He searches Valentino's eyes and doesn't find hostility, nor mockery.

"Fabio has told me he massages your arm sometimes," Valentino continues in Spanish. "Whenever the weather changes. When it gets cold. Whenever you injure it." He doesn't mention the accident in Sachsenring.

"The Netherlands have always been cold."

Valentino sighs and stops a few feet away from Marc. "I'm trying," he says, still in Spanish. It grates on Marc's nerves. "We--"

"You don't need to do anything," Marc says. "I don't care what you do with Fabio as long as he's happy. Just leave me out of it." Marc pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to calm down. He doesn't want to yell. He did that enough when they still told each other i love you in Spanish. Now, they're strangers, and Marc wants to keep it that way. "It's not like you can change anything."

"For Fabio," Valentino continues as if he didn't hear Marc. "We should at least try for him. At some point we're all going to be in the same room. He deserves more than-"

Marc raises an eyebrow.

"This." He gestures between them. "More than us yelling at each other."

Marc raises the other eyebrow too.

"We won't be friends again, Rossi."

"We don't need to," Valentino says. "Just let me massage your arm. You have to race tomorrow."

Marc keeps close to the door as he watches Valentino, waiting. They both know the massage won't do jack shit for him. That's not why he asks Fabio to do it. But Valentino wants something and uses Fabio as an excuse. Marc can ignore everything but that. So he nods, smiles, and closes the distance between them, brushes against Valentino as he sits down on the couch and unzips his jacket, revealing his arm. Indulging, inviting. Holding his breath. Valentino follows.

Valentino's hands are cold on Marc's skin. He tenses his whole body, forbids himself to give even the smallest of tremors as Valentino's callused fingertips run down his biceps, pressing into the ridges slowly, as if Marc is made of glass. As if Valentino cares.

Marc scoffs. Side by side on the couch, he sees Valentino looking up from the corner of his eye. "You can press harder," Marc says. "I won't break. The scar tissue is dead anyway."

Valentino doesn't say anything. He keeps working the muscles, prodding and kneading the arm, breath warm against Marc's skin. If Fabio or Tom came, Marc doesn't know what his explanation is going to be. He mulls over words inside his mind, willing time to go faster, willing his heart to beat slower. Treacherous body, always acting erratically around Valentino. Marc focuses on keeping a steady hold on himself, so he doesn't notice when the air around him shifts, when the couch dips next to him. He snaps back to attention when Valentino presses his lips against Marc's scar, where healthy skin meets the dead tissue.

Marc's breath hitches.

"Vale--"

Valentino kisses down his arm. Slowly, reverence held in the corner of his mouth. He shifts closer, fingers closing around Marc's wrist, around Marc's thigh, caging him in, as if he is afraid Marc will spurt wings and take flight.

"Vale, what are you doing?" His voice breaks, a strange tune he doesn't recognise. Or one Marc chose to forget, reserved only for the nights when Valentino took him apart in the humid Spanish nights.

Valentino's mouth slips down his arm like silk, dry lips catching around Marc's scar, hot breath living goose flesh in its wake.

Marc shivers, leans towards the heat, head turning to see where Valentino is kissing his skin, so strange, so familiar. Valentino looks up at him through his eyelashes, the blue of his irises a whisper around his blown-out pupils. They breath in unison. Valentino leans back, reaches up, and Marc tilts his head down, thinking, thinking-- They haven't kissed since 2015. They haven't touched since 2016. Valentino caresses the edge of Marc's jaw, careful, careful. Marc pushes his cheek against his fingers, thinking, thinking-- is Valentino the same with Fabio? Careful, because he could break? Or rough, the way sometimes Marc is, pushing Fabio against walls, biting under his ear to get him to shiver, because that's how Fabio likes it, because Marc loves--

Marc wrenches himself away before Valentino can kiss him. He pushes himself to the other end of the couch, almost heaving, still looking at Valentino, at the flush on his face that probably matches Marc's own.

"Marc--"

"I'm done here," Marc says in English. "We're done." He leaves without looking back, door almost slamming behind him.

Marc announces he won't race after he leaves Assen early morning on Sunday, and doesn't see Fabio before that. Not in the morning, not the night before, after his duties are done. The only thing Marc gets from him is a text.

Valentino is here. I'm spending the night with him. Fabio doesn't ask for permission. Marc is not his keeper. He's just his boyfriend. So he texts back, Ok, take care. He doesn't text, I know. I almost kissed him. Marc puts his phone on silent and sleeps alone that night.

#luna.writes #so this happened #rosquez #marc marquez #valentino rossi #fabio quartararo #mabio #moto gp rpf #moto gp fanfic #this series is a mess and im figuring it out as i write #but it feels so good to write after so long #i hope you enjoooooy #maina this one is for you too hehe #it's a three-way street au

[infinite-riches]

And if I hurt you?

Summary: “Hurt me? Simon…” Johnny reached up, warm, calloused hands cupping Simon’s face, thumbs sliding across strong cheekbones. “You couldnae hurt me. I trust you with my life, including you wieldin’ my trimmer. Try? For me?”

Or: Simon has a tremor and is worried he'll hurt Johnny

Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x Simon "Ghost" Riley

Word Count: 1706

Warnings: none :)

A/N: This lovely one-shot was inspired by a twitter thread written by 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚊𝚑 • 𝙱𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚞𝚛𝚎•

And a prompt from AbyssCat on the Cod Babygirls server

And as always feel free to leave feedback/constructive criticism <3

AO3 Link (if you prefer): And if I hurt you?

“Please, LT…” Johnny looked at Simon in the mirror, the sweetest puppy dog eyes the Brit had ever seen on full display. “Pretty please!”

Simon looked between the trimmer on the counter and his lover before him. His hands are shoved in his hoodie pocket, fingers twitching with frenetic energy. It was always like this when he was on leave. He had kept Ghost and Simon separate, a coping strategy. His hands gave him away, the slightest shake interrupting everything he tried to do. 

When Johnny asked him to help trim his Mohawk Simon’s heart stopped. The all too familiar flutter of anxiety arose in his chest, his fingers trembling just a little more. He couldn’t. There was no way. His hands shook too much. He would hurt his Johnny. 

“Simon, look at me baby,” Johnny turned to face Simon, placing his hands on the Brit’s hips, a gentle, grounding pressure– something Johnny knew always helped his lover settle. The larger man seemed frozen, stone still, barely a rise and fall to his chest as he breathed. “What’s goin’ on? Never seen you freeze up like that– did I do some-”

“No!” Simon interrupted, heart aching at the thought of Johnny blaming himself. “No, that’s not… I just… I don’t wanna hurt you.”

A light laugh left the Scot’s lips, an incredulous look on his face, “Hurt me? Simon…” Johnny reached up, warm, calloused hands cupping Simon’s face, thumbs sliding across strong cheekbones. “You couldnae hurt me. I trust you with my life, including you wieldin’ my trimmer. Try? For me?”

And try Simon did, watching first as Johnny did a couple passes, just to help calm Simon’s trepidation. Simon’s shaky fingers wrapped around the trimmer, taking a deep breath as he attempted his first pass.

The short brunette hair littered the bathroom floor, Johnny watched Simon’s intense focus, supplying him with praise and compliments the entire time. Johnny knew Simon was a different man from Ghost, knew he kept that side of him at arm's length when he was on leave. He had started picking up on the little quirks that came along with that separation but this was something different. Simon seemed so scared of what his hands were capable of, the small tremor accompanies his every move and Johnny knows it frustrates Simon to no end. 

“You’ve got me looking right bonnie, lover,” Johnny turned his head side to side, looking over Simon’s handiwork. Simon stood behind him, eyes trained on one spot of Johnny’s head, fingers lifting to gently brush the freshly trimmed spot. The touch was soft, barely there, a newfound apprehension in Simon’s motions. “What is it, Si?”

“I hurt you…” his voice is barely above a whisper, eyes glued to the spot. Just above Johnny’s ear is the smallest, faintest scratch. His heart hammered in his chest, mind racing. Johnny would snap at him. Yell. Be disappointed. Regret letting Simon so close. 

“Come off it, Si. I didnae feel a thing. You didnae and wouldnae hurt me.” Johnny’s voice was light, only dropping off at the end as he noticed the way Simon seemed lost within himself. 

“There-” Ghost ran his thumb over the nick, just a red angry line, not a single drop of blood. It stood out against his lover’s skin mockingly. He was no better than his father. How could he hurt the man he loved with every ounce of his being? How could he be so vile? “I didn’t mean to…”

Johnny’s heart ached at the way Simon sounded like a small child, so disappointed in his own actions.

“Mo ghràidh, that’s nothing to worry about, happens all the time when I-” Johnny’s attempt to bring Simon back to earth was interrupted by the Brit, clearly beginning to fall into a spiral of doubt and self hate– something not uncommon, something Simon had warned him about when Johnny first asked him out.

“But I-“ Simon was cut off by the Scot, stern but loving tone silencing the Brit. The tone combined with the spiral over-taking his mind left him so easily led by Johnny, mouth snapping shut, eyes locked on Johnny’s. 

“No buts, Simon. You did exactly what I asked,” Johnny reached up, grabbing Simon’s hand and placing a delicate kiss to each finger tip. “And I’m so thankful for you.” Johnny punctuated his sentence with a soft kiss to Simon’s lips, smiling as he felt the tension slowly melt away from his lover.

-----

The two men sat against the rumbling HVAC unit on the roof of Simon’s dingy Manchester apartment building. The late summer sun set slowly across the horizon, streaks of orange and magenta painting indigo sky. Between them sat a bottle of Johnny’s favorite scotch, a lighter, ashtray, and a half-empty pack of Simon’s cigarettes. 

They had taken turns drinking from the bottle, letting the gentle August breeze drift over them. 

Johnny unabashedly let his eyes drink in the sight of his love. He was in rare form tonight, maskless, cigarette lazily hanging from his fingers, lost deep within his mind. Barely any sign of what had caused his lover so much anguish, only streaks of faint pink and silver across pale porcelain skin. It was Johnny’s favorite sight. No sign of Ghost, so cold and authoritative– not that Johnny didn’t also love Ghost. But here, now? He knew what a gift it was to get to see– to know– Simon. Simon, who liked his tea with two sugar cubes. Simon, who would never admit it, but who loved his recruits, would protect them with all he had. Simon, who much preferred bourbon but always kept Johnny’s favorite scotch stocked in his apartment. Simon, who so desperately wanted to love but was so scared of becoming his father. 

It was the kind of calm that Simon hadn’t allowed himself before Johnny. Johnny was a salve to his soul, helped his mind go quiet, just watching the world pass by. It didn’t do anything to stop the shaking of his hands, the tremor only slightly less severe in this moment. 

Simon was lost in thought, only noticing the way Johnny was watching him when the Scot interlaced their fingers. The gentle touch never failed to bring the softest blush to Simon’s skin, rising up his neck, blooming across his cheeks.

“Cannae believe you were scared to hurt me,” Johnny gave his hand a gentle squeeze, voice soft, almost scared to ruin the moment. “You’re my gentle giant, Si.”

“Johnny, you don't know how much violence it took for me to be this gentle… My hands are stained red. Always will be.” Simon’s voice was low as he flicked the ash from his cigarette, taking another deep pull. The dirty feeling never really left, it haunted him, always worried about tainting Johnny, marking him in some way that could never be washed away.

“Aye, that may be true, but it’s not gonna stop me from loving you, not one bit.” Johnny’s thumb brushed against the side of Simon’s pointer finger. Simon had always been apprehensive about being with Johnny, worried in some way that he would ruin him. It always made Johnny laugh; the way Simon never really seemed to understand that Johnny’s hands were stained red too.

“And if I hurt you? Christ Johnny I can’t control the shakes when I’m home. What if I-” In a flash, Johnny was straddling Simon’s hips, hands gently holding either side of the Brit’s face. Simon gave Johnny his full attention, eyes locked on his favorite ocean eyes, cigarette abandoned in the ashtray.

“Now you listen to me, Simon Riley. I trust you with my life. Everyday. No questions asked. I know you’re not gonna hurt me. You have the softest touch I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing, and I want that for the rest of my life. Even if you don’t trust yourself, I’ll trust you.” Johnny’s gaze was firm but filled with so much love– it made Simon melt. He thanked whatever gods may be out there every day for blessing him with Johnny, for giving him the other half of his soul.

“I’m trying…” Simon’s words were barely a whisper, almost lost amongst the breeze and the thrum of the HVAC; and they split Johnny’s soul down the middle.

Johnny so desperately wanted to freeze time and hunt down every bastard who ever dared touch his Simon. He wanted to do despicable, unholy things to them, leave them as unrecognizable as he could manage. Because in no universe did Simon deserve to despise himself so much. To be so scared of his own two hands. It simultaneously made Johnny’s blood boil and heart break.

“I know, Mo ghràidh, I know…” Johnny let his forehead rest against Simon’s, arms wrapping around the Brit’s shoulder, clinging tightly to him as he tried to hold himself together. “I am so proud of you. Every day. Only hope someday I can help you love and trust yourself as much as I love and trust you.”

Strong, calloused hands found their way to Johnny’s hips, slipping underneath the soft fabric of his worn t-shirt, rubbing soothing circles in the flushed skin. “I don’t know what I’d do without you Johnny…”

“Still be using that god awful 3-in-1 shampoo…” Johnny’s light laugh blended with the deep chuckle of Simon, reverberating through each other’s chest. They settled in silence for a moment before Johnny spoke again. “You’d be fine, just as you were before me…”

“But I wasn’t, Johnny… I’d been a man drowning in a stormy sea when you came along. Broke down every last wall I put up– cheated using those god damn puppy dog eyes too,” Simon pulled his lip between his teeth, worrying at the delicate skin. “I don’t wanna go back to that, Johnny…”

“Never. Never, ever, my love. I’m here and I’m yours. Forever.” Johnny’s eyes sparkled with the last light of day as Simon’s reflected the first rising stars. Sun and moon. Two halves of one whole, lost and incomplete without the other.

Simon slid a hand up along Johnny’s spine, gently guiding the Scot forward until their lips connected. Soft skin and gentle breaths, all soaked with the promise of forever.

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #ghost x soap #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #simon riley x john mactavish

[starboybutler]

Little Prince | Little!Elvis x Reader

summary: you notice that elvis has strange tendencies when you're alone together. and you decide to ask him about it one day.

warnings: age regression, little space, gender neutral reader, brief mention of insomnia

word count: 1222

notes: shoutout to @thecooleralessa for inspiring me to write this! this story was entirely self indulgent and for a few close friends of mine, so if age regression isn't something you're familiar with feel free to scroll. this was written with actual elvis in mind- but feel free to imagine austin!elvis if you want! fun fact-- elvis was actually most likely an age regressor in real life. if you read the book by his girlfriend linda thompson, there is very strong evidence of this; so this fic is based off of that + a few headcanons of mine. enjoy!! 🍼🧸

❛ ━━･❪✭❫ ･━━ ❜

the king has always been a little strange in more ways than one.

whether it was his flamboyant outfits or the way he moved on stage, he always managed to stand out in a crowd.

even behind closed doors, he had strange habits. as the king’s significant other, it was only natural you kept track of these things. he would only eat things if you cooked them, despite him having more than enough cooks around. he claimed that you ‘made it with love’, and that it tasted better. he also liked when you would feed him, and pet his hair. sometimes he just seemed like a big baby.

…maybe he was.

it was almost time for bed when you decided to ask him about it. you bought some things beforehand just in case your suspicions were confirmed.

elvis walked out from the bathroom wearing a loose pair of pajama bottoms, stretching and yawning loudly. his hair was messy, and he looked like a puppy dog.

he wandered over to the bed and flopped down next to you, laying his head in your lap and looking up at you expectantly. you faked an annoyed sigh as you reached down and ran your hands through his soft hair, making his eyes flutter closed.

“i swear,” you huff, ruffling his hair gently, making him chuckle. “you're like a big old baby.” you joked, but elvis went a little stiff under your touch.

“don’ say that, doll,” he muttered, his face flushing a soft pink as your hand stilled in his hair. you leaned down, tilting your head as you spoke softly.

“why? i was just kidding,”

“it's not funny,” elvis huffed, sitting up abruptly. he looked like he had seen a ghost, his face pale yet flushed at the same time. your suspicions were confirmed. you slowly reached out and cupped his cheek, turning his face to look you in the eye. he flushes darker red, avoiding your gaze.

“look at me,” you hum, and his eyes shyly move to look at yours. there's something shy in them, small and vulnerable and childlike– and you have the overwhelming urge to protect him.

“are you…” you hum, pausing and thinking of how to word it. “do you want to be my baby, elvis?”

elvis swallows, his throat bobbing nervously as he stares into your eyes. he nods shyly, his eyes glassy with unshed tears.

“oh, baby,” you sigh, purring softly as you pull him into your arms, stroking his cheek as tears fall down his red cheeks. “what's the matter? why are you crying?”

“m…’m sorry,” he hiccups softly, wiping at his eyes. “i jus’... i thought you’d think it was weird,” he sniffs, looking up at you with his big, vulnerable eyes. “you really don't mind?”

“not at all, baby,” you purr, pressing a kiss to his tear stained cheek. “you can be take a break from being the king all you want,” you smile, pressing close to him. “just be my little prince for a while.”

elvis blushed at the nickname, but nodded and nuzzled closer to you as you cooed to him lowly. he never looked so relaxed in his life. he seemed content– like he was finally at peace in your arms as you gently rocked him back and forth.

❛ ━━･❪✭❫ ･━━ ❜

you had both talked about what worked best for elvis. what he liked and didn't like, how old he would regress to, what he needed done for him, things like that. most of his needs consisted of you just holding him, cooking for him, and just being there for him overall. he wasn't really a handful– most of the time anyway– and he was the sweetest little thing. he often got shy when he slipped into littlespace, and you couldn't help but tease him a bit.

tonight was no different. he was oddly quiet at dinner, and sure enough, once you two got alone in the room, he came over to you and hugged you tightly, pressing his face into the crook of your neck.

“oh, are you feeling little, my prince?” you asked softly, and he nodded, his face heating up as his arms tightened around you. you pressed your lips to his cheek, smiling softly as he whined and buried his face into your neck shyly.

“c’mon, let's get you into your pajamas, sweetie.”

you gently took his hand, guiding him to the bathroom. you sat him down and began to unbutton his shirt, slipping it off and tossing it into the dirty clothes. you made your way to the closet, looking for his pjs. you pulled out a pink velvet pair, with his initials embroidered on the chest. it had little stars on it, and it made your heart melt. he had them custom made.

you walked back over to him, smiling as his eyes lit up at the sight of the pajamas. you pick up the soft pink top and look at him, and he immediately lifts his arms. you slip it over his head, smiling as he hums at the feeling of it against his skin. you slide his pants on as well, and he already looks so much happier.

“come on,” you coo lowly, standing and leading him back to the bedroom. “let's go relax, honey.”

❛ ━━･❪✭❫ ･━━ ❜

elvis laid his head against your chest as his eyes fluttered, trying to stay awake as the cartoons played in the background. he fell asleep easily, and it made you smile at how he always fought it.

his eyelashes brushed the tops of his cheeks as his eyes closed, his breath slowing as he fell asleep. you slowly moved to turn the tv off, but he began to fuss and whine.

“nuh,” he huffed, his eyes opening once more. “i wanna watch,”

you chuckled softly, putting the remote down and running your hand through his soft hair. “you're not even watching,” you sigh fondly, rolling your eyes as he pouts.

“yea i was.”

“with your eyes closed?”

“mhm.” he hums, his eyes still noticeably droopy as he brings his hand to his mouth, nibbling at his thumb. “i have superpowers,”

you pull his thumb away from his mouth, tsking and shaking your head.

“i told you about chewing on your thumb like that,” you scolded gently, patting at his cheek. “you know what you need to ask for if you want something in your mouth,”

elvis blushed, but muttered under his breath. “c’n i have my paci?”

“of course, baby.” you say softly, reaching for the bedside table and grabbing the blue pacifier with stars on it, gently placing it in his mouth.

he blushes and mumbles a ‘thank you’ around it, his head settling back down on your chest as he turns his attention back to the tv.

after a few minutes, his breathing is even and steady, and he's fast asleep against you. you smile softly, stroking his hair and finally turning off the tv as he curls closer into your chest, suckling gently on his pacifier. you had never seen him sleep so soundly when he was big, and to see him finally getting a good nights sleep set your heart and mind at ease.

your little prince would be okay as long as you were there for him.

#elvis x reader #elvis x you #elvis x y/n #austin!elvis x y/n #austin!elvis x reader #elvis fluff #austin!elvis fluff #little e #little prince

[thebluestbluewords]

Blue’s Descendants Fic Rec Roundup: personal faves

this list is not all-inclusive, just some of the highlights that live in my brain absolutely rent-free after three years and a Lot of obsessively reading through everything in the ao3 tag.

The Lady Is A Vamp by objectlesson

Jaylos, 13k. 

The genderqueer fic that absolutely wrecked me a few weeks ago when I ran across it for the first time. It’s got confused teenagers who don’t know how to sort out their feelings for each other, fashion descriptions that make me want to sell my soul to the writing gods, and a brilliant Jay POV that captures so much of what I like about teenage love stories. It’s a great fic that’s just long enough to get really invested in, and the eventual payoff of the get-together is great. 

(Note that the image links in this fic are broken, but the descriptions of the fashion are still great!) 

Redemancy by PorcelainAlice

Polyamory, Mal/Evie/Jay/Carlos/Ben and Jay/Doug, 11k, unfinished. (but I promise you it’s worth the read anyway) 

This fic has been living in my head rent-free since I first started reading, and even though it’s not a pairing I would usually go for, it’s one of the most interesting Auradon worldbuilding fics that I’ve read for this fandom. I love the deep dive into Doug as a character, and the ways that this fic delves into dwarf culture and how being part of that magical world makes Doug an outsider at Auradon Prep is absolutely brilliant. There’s a few really lovely scenes with giving food as a way of giving affection, but the fic also goes into food as a means of expressing culture, and it’s so well done that I would love this fic even if it were only those scenes. (But seriously, the whole fic is lovely and the worldbuilding is top tier, please read this and scream about it with me) 

Long Live, Havin’ Some Fun by WorkingChemistry

Mal & Evie & Jay & Carlos, 8k, unfinished. 

I’m always a slut for omegaverse, and this fic is one of my absolute favorites. It has all of the casual violence and terrified affection that I love from this fandom, and it hits basically all of my personal omageverse trope buttons with the scent marking, pack dynamics, and non-sexual relationships. The relationship between the core 4 is left somewhat ambiguous, but I think it reads super well as queerplatonic. Reading this fic inspired me to write uhhh like 200k of my own omegaverse fic, which in turn is why I started this blog, so this is TRULY the most influential of my personal Descendants fic rec roundup.

Dog-Eared Page by objectlesson

Jaylos, minor Benlos, 23k 

Mostly-canon, this fic hits a lot of the awkward teenage crush feelings that I adore in descendants fics. I came for the Ben/Carlos, but stayed because it’s such a well-written look at the Auradon Prep dating landscape. Also, hot. Fair warning that this one is quite NSFW, so if that’s not your jam maybe give this one a pass. 

you’ve left your ghost until tomorrow by paperclipbitch

Malvie, 5k. 

Halloween fic! There’s knives and petty rivalry that’s maybe not so petty after all, because sometimes your teenage rivalry with the princess whose mother got your mother exiled forever IS the most important thing in your lives, and there’s some really lovely details about Mal’s art that make the world feel so much more whole, and Evie is a badass as she always should be, and it’s a joy and a delight to reread this fic every year. 

while the getting is good by Walutahanga

Gen, 34k, unfinished. 

The VKs take a different route to escape their parents. The barrier breaks anyway. Mal has more magic than she can handle, Jay has magic too, and there’s a lot of really nice moments where we get a glimpse into the inner workings of the Auradon adults and how they manage the politics of the situation while trying to help. It’s a really great worldbuilding fic that delves into the logistics of running a mashed-up fairy tale kingdom that’s actually more like twelve smaller kingdoms in a trenchcoat, and there’s also some AMAZING good-guy coach moments that made me adore him even more. I’m a sucker for fics that show the adults trying to help, and this is one of the best. 

you find yourself down the hall again (the lights gone dim) by soldiersummonersaint

Jay & Coach, 3k 

I’ve already talked about how much I adore fic where the Auradon adults are really genuinely doing their best, and this is one of the PEAK good-guy Coach fics for me. It’s got some really evocative moments that make my heart ache for Jay, and it’s just a lovely fic overall. 

How To Love You Today by sparrowmoth

Jaylos, 2k. (I believe this one is archive-locked, so you’ll need an ao3 account to read)

Adorable werewolf!Carlos fic. The first fic set in this verse is one of my all-time faves, and this sequel is equally delightful. 

Short Skirt (Long Jacket) by Butyoucancallmemeg

multi, 13k. 

This fic is one of the best Evie characterizations I’ve ever read, full stop. Grifter!Evie is canon in my heart now, and the relationship with her mother is exquisite. I also love the emphasis on Jay and Evie as friends in this fic. They both know how to perform, how to flirt and make a good show of things and charm their audience, and it’s such a great read. The whole series is fabulous.

Like Riding A Bike by Glitter_Lisp

Harry/Uma, 2k 

Kidfic! I’m not always one for kids in fic, but this series consistently blows me away with how good the parent-child relationship between Harry and CJ is. The perfect level of precocious child and well-meaning protective parent. The series is focused more on the parent-child relationship than the Harry/Uma relationship, but it works so well. I love a hot pirate (or tattoo artist) parent who is so incredibly dedicated to keeping his kid as happy and healthy as possible even when other things are falling apart. Also, I would die for cool uncle Gil. 

#fic rec #there’s so much good fic in the fandom and hhhhhh I can’t rec it all #but here’s ten of my top faves in no particular order #might add another handful later as I continue to sift through my ao3 history #It’s times like this that I miss the spreadsheets I made to track my fic reading in each month of 2020 #they made it so easy to search my reading history

[lovelycreativecrafts]

Stab Wound | Kenpachi x Black Female

Word Count: 991

Synopsis: Kenpachi mistakes a woman for being a Hollow.

Inspiration:

Theme Idea: The decisions you make also impacts the people around you.

Biblical Theme: “Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yoursleves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.” - Philippians 2:3-4

Warnings: Mentions of Blood and Violence

Challenge: Febuwhump Challenge Hosted by @fanfictionlibrary01 & Their discord server

I sighed as I grew tired of searching for the supposed powerful Hollow that was occupying the world of the living. I’ve been wandering around the whole day and I haven’t even come in contact with a hollow.

“The Head Captain better not have been lying, so I could substitute for Ichigo,” I complained.

I continued to walk down the dark street and my eyes began to grow heavy. I glanced around and all the buildings that were once lit were now dark. I thought about just staying at Urahara’s place since it was obvious the Head Captain had lied to me.

The moment I decided to leave the air became heavy and the atmosphere changed. My eyes widened and a smile grew on my face. Perhaps the Head Captain wasn’t lying.

The spiritual pressure suddenly left and I tried pinpointing where it came from. I scanned the area and my eyes caught sight of a few bushes moving.

“You might as well come out.” I made my way toward the bushes.

“I’ve been looking for you all day.” I tightened my grip on my sword as I stopped in front of the bushes and I swiftly sliced the bushes.

A small scream came from the bushes and I frowned. I stepped closer only to find a young woman holding a puppy within her arms. Her eyes were wide and shifted between me and the sword.

“Um . . . is this your puppy?” The woman asked me.

The street lights illuminated the woman’s dark skin and eyes while her dark curly hair framed her face. Her body shifted under my gaze as she waited for a response. I sighed. I turned away from the woman as my disappointment grew but I stopped and looked back at the woman.

“You can see me,” I stated.

The woman blinked at me, “Yea?”

Strange. This woman couldn’t possibly be the Hollow? And yet how is she able to see me?

“What are you doing out here, woman?”

The woman raised an eyebrow and stood up.

“As far as I’m concerned that’s none of your business” The woman began to walk out of the bushes.

Before she could walk away from me, I grabbed her arm, and she froze. “Answer my question.”

“Let me go,” The woman demanded as she tried pulling her arm out of my grip.

The dog soon jumped out of her arms and into the bushes. It was very unlikely that she was the Hollow but I’d been searching all day and she was the only lead I have gotten so far.

“Woman-,”

The female grabbed onto my shirt and lunged her forehead into my nose. My brain bounced around my skull as I lost my grip on the woman and fell to the ground. I held my nose as the woman began to run further away from me. She’s stronger than I thought.

I quickly got back onto my feet and flashed stepped in front of the woman. The woman’s eyes widened as she ran into my chest. She quickly took a few steps back and lifted her hands into a defensive position.

“You have a hard head, woman,” I smirked.

She was interesting, no woman has ever dared to attack me. They would be too intimidated by me for it to even cross their minds. Perhaps she was a Hollow.

“Let me get right to the point, you’re a hollow aren’t you?” I asked.

“What?” The woman frowned.

I took a step toward her and she stiffened.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She stated.

“Then how come you can see me? I’m not human.” I continued to walk toward her.

The woman examined me from top to bottom and her eyes widened. “You’re a ghost? But I could touch you and you don’t have that chain in your chest.”

I stopped in front of her and she stared at me in disbelief. She’s not a hollow.

A large amount of spiritual pressure filled the air and the woman fell to one of her knees. A large Hollow soon jumped out of the bushes and before I could react, the Hollow hit me with its tail causing me to fly away from him.

I soon hit the ground and I smiled, “Finally.”

I got back onto my feet and dashed toward the Hollow. I raised my sword and sliced right through the Hollow. The Hollow screamed in pain and I watched it disappear.

“Seriously, that was it? I wasted all that energy only for it to be defeated within a couple of seconds.” I complained.

I began to walk away from the site as disappointment settled in my chest. I immediately stopped as I heard a few coughs. I turned my head and my eyes widened. The woman who was once ready to fight me was now bleeding on the ground as she held her stomach.

Shoot.

I ran toward her and bent down on my knees. The woman breathed heavily as her blood began to cover her hands. I tore a piece of my clothes and slowly removed the woman’s hand. I examined the wound and immediately began wrapping it. I glanced at the woman’s face and I watched as she fought to keep her eyes open, not wanting to lose her life. I focused back on wrapping her wound.

This was my fault. I was always itching for a fight and never thought of the consequences. Captain Unohana warned me that my bloodlust was going to cost someone’s life but I ignored her. Every time I fought I was either alone or surrounded by people that could hold their own. But this time-

I looked at the woman again and her breathing was still heavy. I lifted her off the ground and ran to the only place I knew could help the human woman.

“Thank you.” The woman whispered.

I looked down at her, “Just don’t die, woman.”

#kenpachi x reader #bleach fanfiction #fanfiction challenge #christian fanfiction #fanfiction #anime fanfic #kenpachi zaraki #writing challenge #fanfiction writer #fanfiction writing #black reader

[deputy-ajay-ghale]

The Boy Characters & Daemons

Greta & Jasper; tabby cat

- Greta gets a “mean ol tabby cat” as my friend put it which worked perfectly with me wanting a house cat for her. Cats lick their wounds; Greta ran away to England to get away from Cole and recover from her loss. Plus, you’ll love what Brahms’s daemon is in relation to Greta’s. Greta is Greek and means “pearl”, so I named her daemon Jasper bc it’s also Greek and means “speckled stone.”

Malcolm & Kirstine; English mastiff

- I thought an mastiff would be perfect for Malcolm bc of their sweet faces and Malcolm not quite having golden retriever bf energy, but he’s got definite big dog friendliness. Mastiffs are also a breed used as guard dogs and can be considered “calm, sensitive, and self assured.” Malcolm is conscious of Mrs. Heelshire’s attachment to doll!Brahms and respects that. He also attempts to protect Cole from Brahms despite the fact that it would’ve been fine within the story and with the audience if he didn’t help him and just tried to save Greta and himself. Guard dog bf. Kirstine is Scottish and means “follower of Christ.”

Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire & the mourning doves

- I felt the Heelshires would have matching daemons. It’s this idea of uniformity for elitists. Mourning doves are considered spiritual messengers of faith, love, and peace. Yes, them having mourning in their name is a bit on the nose, but I just love the idea of the Heelshires all having bird daemons and the imagery of two doves sitting on a naked tree while the Heelshires drown themselves and the daemons turn to Dust. The doves are nameless bc Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire are nameless. I think if Greta was was talking about them, she’d just call them “the doves.”

Cole & Aite; striped skunk

- Look, I didn’t care enough about Cole to be super inspired about him. I still didn’t want to take the easy route and give him a rat or cockroach, so I thought a skunk would be best since it’s a pest that pet owners have to watch out for in case they spray your cat or dog. I did look up a cool name though. Aite is the Greek goddess of mischief, misfortune, ruin, and delusion. Cole means nothing but trouble and he’s delusional for thinking Greta would want to go back to him.

Brahms & Aria; African honeyguide

- Okay, so y’all know how there’s birds that stick their eggs in other birds’s nest to make them care for them? You know what I’m getting at. I thought a bird was perfect for Brahms for multiple reasons. 1) The elite uniformity I was talking about 2) small and quiet to go undetected in the walls and 3) a bird could easily spy on Greta from outside the manor. I don’t know if daemons are aware of each other, but if they are that would totally feed into Greta’s belief that Brahms is a ghost living in the doll. His daemon is still here! I chose Aria bc it’s a song sung for a solo in operas. What does Brahms listen to loud as hell? Operas.

#the boy 2016 #greta evans #Malcolm #mr Heelshire #Cole #brahms heelshire #Mrs Heelshire #original post

[elliotchen-apologist]

phone navigation

art inst: dekob2

carrd: https://dekob2.carrd.co/

pinterest board with all pictures i use for edits

Games:

girls series:

barbie games - bratz games

random:

dark parables - petz - horse games - syberia - disco elysium

snufkin melody of moominvalley

sims 2:

curios household

not so berry

30 day cas challenge - finished

nancy drew navigation: 

nancy drew

by format:

animated

non animated

gifs from games

my art

original designs (whatever it means)

by series: 

30 day challenge

spotify music edits

mythology

AUs 

couples 

character aesthetics 

instagram edits

25 ND OUTFITS CHALLENGE

nancy drew seasonal outfits

games inspired playlists

nancy drew games inspired outfits

nancy drew games as music albums

finished:

light/dark games aesthetics

nancy drew cover with art done by wombo art AI

25 ND OUTFITS CHALLENGE 

cluecreplaythru 2023

gifs:

chilling in games - idle animations

locations

by game:

SCK - Secrets Can Kill

STFD - Stay Tuned for Danger

MHM - Message in a Haunted Mansion

TRT - Treasure in the Royal Tower

FIN - The Final Scene

SSH - Secret of the Scarlet Hand

DOG - Ghost Dogs of Moon Lake

CAR - The Haunted Carousal

DDI - Danger on Deception Island

SHA - The Secret of Shadow Ranch

CUR - Curse of Blackmoor Manor

CLK - Secret of the Old Clock

TRN - Last Train to Blue Moon Canyon

DAN - Danger by Design

CRE - Creature of Kapu Cave

ICE - The White Wolf of Icicle Creek

CRY - Legend of the Crystal Skull

VEN - The Phantom of Venice

HAU - The Haunting of Castle Malloy

RAN - Ransom of the Seven Ships

WAC - Warnings at Waverly Academy

TOT - Trail of the Twister

SAW - Shadow at the Water’s Edge

CAP - The Captive Curse

ASH - Alibi in Ashes

TMB - Tomb of the Lost Queen

DED - The Deadly Device

GTH - Ghost of Thornton Hall

SPY - The Silent Spy

MED - The Shattered Medallion

LIE - Labyrinth of Lies

SEA - Sea of Darkness

MID - Midnight in Salem

#navigation

[abolickxers]

Check out "Obsidian"

If I could gather all the pieces of my heart, shattered like the broken glass at my feet.

I would. Id go back to that day, id run toward the warmth of you and I would never have regretted any moments. Id have been there no matter what. I would have never confused you with someone else and I would have told you who you are to the world, to me.

to the origin of stars, when one direction is always the root of limbs long turned flooring roof and tinder.

a light beacon a message in a dark place only in your eyes and a smile upon your face can replace the tired old distance I feel in the places we used to now. All the math and money, no amount could you use to improve all the secrets vast and known and not a little bit used to make a life for us to be authentic in a corrupt way of being. Maybe it's my heart bitter words on my tongue are worn like old cuffs with the key kept somewhere I often mourned but I could never return there as me lest I witness is all gratefully happy for the reprieve of my voice back into it's hollow, thoughts buried deep in the mindfulness on breath that I swallow and upon this chair I slouch and slump and rock back and forth the rhythm of my tongue and my teeth tarnished a d slightly yellow, nicotine stains and crooked ridges after a spell of ten years, not any bit id call mellow. And I assume my organs are quite thirsty and my muscles have been over working every fiber and protein in all that mass of I was once and the tenacity of the weight of love like a drummers bass; bellowing when I am in fear and the tiny teardrops i refuse to allow to trickle down my lids that almost 3 years noe it was a storm so mighty and shallow was the entry of 2 gods and all the world was sent me a witness i alone guarded their fight alone with my dog, so cold and rain and fog i thought i would die. The rain many feet in filled the the trash can 2 times as fast as I had blinked and it did it again. And I could hear them like a dinosaur and a truck fighting for a gift that was never intended for someone to cause me to think there is such thing as luck. Like what are the chances two flames from different hearts could come together and in a instant contain all that was ours in every facet every light every child and all the love of all you could believe torn from the arms abd heart of a family and then there was just me.

And buscuit

Afraid and cold and under the blankets. Below zero and it's something to say of love that he'd kept it. The only part of my life that I didn't need the part that would give me someone's personality. So I came on arriving as a host, like a ghost I spoke few words and was ruder than most. I want to be kind but it's difficult to swallow all the pain of watching you walk back toward a day I ran for a million races and all moments that defined home were measured with a whisper. How could I easily resist worth? Could I actually value myself if I never ask for help and so I never do any other task. I sit about wishing you'd ask. Knowing full well what demented love that a mother could bring, the love of asking the world to be selfless and consider what we don't see. What a question a rooted rotten gorge of a fount that bubbles forth from fingers to eyes and awe inspired slack jaw look as the world around me shook like a dragon had caught a crook. The little trailer rocking left and right almost like a tin can and a rock processor came into a fan and blew out chunks of tuna back into the sea and whales were once again playing and dolphins were free except the storm was greater than even that tsunami that destroyed a coastal relic a place long ago forgotten by people daily moving away from the effects of silence and outspoken. Neither language of noise or silence could be best or worst for it was obviously the actions that we curse. If it were just a thought well than we know better than to try and something other than 190% miracles with a possibility of humanity. And so the question was asked but so many forgot the chosen must live with rules that contain all your purpose and interwoven is the answer the path and the method because truly blessed is a perspective I can't achieve alone if I'm also casting stone after stone in a place I can't be good toy word if it's 2 forward and 2 times past and I was not there to speak to the man or woman that would be tasked to answer That. So too honest too alur perplexed derision or imploded affinity with motivating others to be more to themselves and know that what I have in you is hope because maybe one day I won't upon the words of love begin to chole and hold tight the breath that is his as per request we don't really live as other so and or about the same time I discovered in you something truly divine. That's a spark none ever needed. That bad as I was you had remarked that life is lived and love is a badge and as you honor all that's left behind when there is reason all people become one person one animal or one friend it's because all people have at some point a need to mend. So catalyst A please be advised your lower case self is in need of all that you confide but without either we have no word whom all the borrowed apologies will never arrive for the one who assumes that thank you is worse if you doubt but receiving love is a deceit is not anlesson i would carry about. I want a child happily and hopeful also a cloud that shines and shutters with every breath sending mist shade and rainbows on a prism of life that God designed best with me and the rest heavy lidded holding on to the cathartic equilibrium and unwavering rhythm of my portaly sighty heart and my motion all tied into a present day devotion

Needs and wants all same id you are we because I seem to be divided by asking every one else for what I can't say it's freedom of decisions is the fact that you found my thoughts and tell people I'm mad as though I were not the one who cares for you on all land ocean and air even the sight of our eyes we have shared and I am scared for the notion, that love could bring an evil or unsteady creation to the brim of a cup overflowing with nothing but trust that if I win it would be universal because love is without the boundaries that make feelings less who I am but it must have some such beast caged andbthe hungernis who iam so manifest if youudlst nut never again will I be more tjan a memory god plave your mind in safe harbours and swim to thebshores of free floating gazes soft to the touxh is the fingers lightly tapping out hebfinal beata of a heart no longer becoming of the effort. I can't seem to defeat if it is apologies I simper at the graves of those who before me would never whisper. Live your life humble out loud and proud but roar not for the reason others suffer or boast of what's best if freely no delight comes to you when a someone enjoys what you have here making the piano emp when music is the purpose of so many ears. Don't fret it is not you I don't see who I am 5 by 2 in all direction as 35 is 88 and such is the cost of being half whole and wait for the gate to be embossed for thy self is all in the wit of wisdom forgetting oneself in and on a shelf that was pitched into the flames while submerged in the surface of a perfect narrow space barely survivable at first. Expanding slowly the little earth that I am once holding the child in so many forms of womb, trickery must have been performed as incalculatable was my life that every moment was kept logged away fromy eye a s a secret I dhad secretland long stirring a choice to give all m live as is it is who m chose to do what was need at the same time what aysterry to me I know only God is divine andi a moment longer no more, the swine has slipped from my center and become beast once more emerging fresh and blessed abd begging of nothing all that she had begged as two so we may move on to tomorrow's yesterday's and nows as presented by the spoke and fully woke nonnets place abd home is the holder all names doors ans windows to vast oceans of blameless factless erosion of any claim that woukd leave that would leave any without and that which I chose when I could live without, it was thepain and stress of blessing and guessi g and productive is we and I work tirelessly and wait for a gift. A surprise that doesn't undermine all the love that I give. Mirror askew am in not welcome any one bitter enough by the anger you choose should see I speak as 2. So joy is what I give you with healthy strategies that don't harm me any more than it ever did when we are free to devour all the laughter and turn it into a wholesome platter of likely disasters made funny with a perspective lightly tart. Give up the words that mean so much that they broke your heart. A smile is better and worse even is a frown because then you know I can't see you if your upside down. I love you with eternal and limitless emotion but my small frame cannot take much more of the commotion and such is life that I will never get to live because of what people thought i was. Willing to give. Sorrow isn't easy and revenge hurts more becase the love I need is where and whom you destroy. So blah blah blah disposition I'm bored ans sick of being an imposition. Hit time to smoke again stupid your brains work too well I live a dillussion and it's all collusion and I'm a xclot in m own way and you think I'm owned by someone other than me so no u mustn't pay for a place in your own body I am forever the same l claim all so you can upkeep you but if I fall what then can we do but see helle Keller and Stevie Baskin doubt as they shout nut no words come out

#real shit

[multifandomfanfiction]

Two Ghosts Chapter 4

TITLE: Two Ghosts Chapter 4 PAIRING: Iceman/OC, Rooster/OC (if you squint) RATING: T CHAPTER: 4/? SUMMARY: It was just a routine training session, but it changed Noel “Mongoose” Grenier’s life forever. The legends of pilots flying through time vortexes was true, because it happened to her. Dropped into 1984 during Maverick’s Top Gun training, she must navigate keeping her secret while also completing the program…again. Will she return to her own time unscathed? Or will she lose her heart in the process?

Mongoose kept her head down and tried to stir up as little trouble as possible.

Of course, Iceman had continued to goad her when they were in air and she was this close to punching him in his perfect face. She couldn’t remember bickering with anyone this much. Not even Hangman.

Luckily though, she’d slowly earned the respect and admiration of her fellow pilots. She’d already completed the program (which had been much harder in the F-18’s), but she was still studying with Maverick in one of the rec rooms.

Charlotte “Charlie” Blackwood walked up to her and Maverick.

Mongoose ignored the woman until she heard, “Lieutenant Grenier.”

Mongoose looked up. “Mongoose, please.”

Mongoose was still resisting ‘Minx’ as her callsign, despite it being approved by the higher-ups. She’d even received a new helmet with the callsign. It was black with white stripes and a pair of yellow cat eyes on the back. She kept her Mongoose helmet just in case she ever made it back to 2022.

“Mongoose. Congratulations on the Top Gun program. I’m sure you’ll be an inspiration for women fighter pilots everywhere.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Mongoose didn’t want to be an inspiration. She wanted to go back to her time and fly with her team.

Charlie walked off and Maverick nudged Mongoose.

She looked down and saw a dinner invite scribbled on the piece of paper Charlie handed Maverick. “And you call me a minx,” Mongoose teased him.

They got up to leave and Slider, who was holding a model plane, made a crashing noise. “Crash and burn, huh Mav?”

Maverick leaned in close to him and sniffed. “Slider, you stink.”

Mongoose let out a high pitched giggle at the comment.

Maverick smiled and threw an arm around her shoulders as they walked out.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After training that day, the aviators decided to go down to the beach and play a few games of volleyball.

Mongoose found a spot on the sand and laid down a towel.

“You gonna be my cheerleader, Minx?” Iceman asked her.

“In your dreams, Kazansky!”

Iceman gave her a wink. “How’d you know you were in my dreams?”

Mongoose cursed herself for blushing. Iceman was smooth. She’d give him that.

Mongoose slipped her aviator sunglasses onto her face and looked at the aviators on the court.

It was Slider and Iceman versus Maverick and Goose. Maverick was playing volleyball in jeans of all things.

The apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree.

Rooster had played dogfighting football in a pair of jean shorts.

Goose was the only one dressed for volleyball in a pair of swim trunks and a white t-shirt.

Mongoose tried to not let her eyes linger on Iceman’s chest and stomach, but it was nearly impossible.

There was a break in the game and Iceman walked over to Mongoose. He slipped off his dog tags and said, “Hold onto these for me, sweetheart?”

Mongoose just stared up at him. Iceman taking off his dog tags was a big deal since service members rarely ever took them off.

When Mongoose didn’t say anything, Iceman knelt in front of her. He grabbed her hand and placed the dog tags in it. His eyes met hers as he kissed the knuckles of her closed hand.

Mongoose’s heart fluttered.

The sun started setting and Maverick ran over to his things.

“Come on, where you guys going? You walking away?” Slider taunted Maverick and Goose.

“Mav, Mav. Come on, man. One more game. That evens it up,” Goose told him as Maverick slipped his shirt on.

“I got some things I gotta take care of.”

“Take care of? Just one more game. Please? For me?”

Maverick slipped on his jacket. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry. Come on? For me?” Maverick walked off towards his motorcycle.

“I’ll play with you, Goose,” Mongoose said.

Goose turned to the female aviator. “You will?”

Mongoose stood up and walked over to him. “Yeah. Anything to knock Ice down a peg or two.”

Goose smiled and threw his arm around her shoulders. When she looked up at him, for a second she saw Rooster.

It was hard to not see Rooster in his father with the sun kissed honey brown hair and the mustache. The thought of never seeing her Rooster caused a surprising pang of sadness.

Before she stepped onto the court, she stripped her shirt off leaving her in her shorts and sports bra. She heard the whistles and catcalls.

Iceman tried not to stare at Mongoose’s toned legs and stomach.

“Hold up, she can’t play,” Slider said.

“Why? Afraid to get beat by a girl?” Mongoose asked him. She twirled the volleyball in her hands. “Come on. One game.”

Iceman and Slider looked at each other.

“Fine. But I don’t wanna hear anything about you breaking a nail,” Slider said.

“You’re going down, Minx,” Iceman taunted.

Mongoose quirked an eyebrow and served the volleyball.

Slider and Iceman scrambled to hit the ball, but ran into each other instead.

“Oh Slider…” Mongoose sang, “Don’t break a nail.”

This went on for about twenty minutes and Goose and Mongoose ended up winning.

“Time out!” Iceman said. He crooked at finger at Mongoose and she approached the net, threading her fingers through the holes. “You and me, Minx. One on one.”

She leaned forward so her nose was nearly touching his. “What are the stakes?”

Iceman smirked. “I win, you let me take you on a date.”

“A date? That’s all? If I win…you have be my RIO for the day.”

Iceman’s smirk fell. He’d never been a RIO before in his life.

Truth be told, Mongoose had never had a RIO/WSO before. She’d always flown solo. Even in flight school.

Soon, the aviators started to trickle off.

Goose patted her on the shoulder and said, “Don’t bruise his ego too hard. We’ve gotta fly with him tomorrow.”

“No promises, Goose.”

Iceman and Mongoose were left alone. He served first and instead of hitting the ball, Mongoose stepped to the side and let it land in the sand. She snatched the volleyball up and started running down the beach.

“Hey!” Iceman called, running after her.

Mongoose giggled as she dodged his hands.

Iceman eventually grabbed her and they fell to the ground.

Mongoose was laughing her ass off, making Iceman laugh too. When she opened her eyes, Iceman was staring down at her with a look she had seen before. She’d seen it on Rooster’s face when Maverick had them play dogfighting football. Mongoose had been convinced that he was going to kiss her, but he simply helped her up instead.

Iceman grasped her chin in his hand and leaned down, softly pressing his lips to hers.

Mongoose’s heart was fluttering in her chest as she returned the kiss.

Iceman pulled away.

“So…if I’m a minx, does that make you a Tomcat?” Mongoose asked.

Iceman laughed at her lame joke before kissing her again.

Taglist: @indynerdgirl @alanadetigy @the-untamed-soul @marland56 @ireadthensuetheauthors​ @kassieesworld​ @theforevermorereject​ @maverick-dont-think-just-do​ @thescarletknight2014​ @maverick-goose-rooster​ @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy​ @yougottalovefandoms​ @maverick-wingman​​

#tom iceman kazansky #tom/oc #iceman/oc #tom iceman kazansky imagines #nick goose bradshaw #pete maverick mitchell #pete maverick mitchell imagines #top gun #top gun imagines #top gun:maverick imagines #top gun: maverick

[chalamart]

Breathing Room

TW: blood, home invasion, mentions of prescription drug use, mental health issues (anxiety), abusive relationship, brief choking, slight...horror? Gore, even? Possibly death - that one's up to you.

I nearly gave myself panic attack while writing this, so...reading it may have the same effect.

All of my stories are inspired by the AI art that Midjourney gives me using Timothée Chalamet as a prompt. Most of the art is quite romantic, but upon asking for TC in a dark room (lol), I ended up with...this.

I simply could not pass up the opportunity to return to my old love as an author using this image as a prompt, and write a good old thriller short. It quickly became much more than that.

As a result, this is NOT smut, or fluff, or anything even close to "normal" fanfiction I will write on this account. This story was intended to be something completely different, but as many other authors may experience from time to time, it took on a life of its own.

While I do intend to write the lovely smut and fluff we all so enjoy and share it on this blog, this story is not that. It's actually pretty...disturbed.

As the author, it is my duty to assure you that, while it may not entirely seem so, I am of both sound mind and stable psyche. Does some of this story likely come from a place of repressed trauma and echoes of a distant past? It's likely.

Do not read if you are triggered by panic or violence. You have been firmly warned.

The moment you turned your key in the lock, you knew something was off. You swore you had locked the deadbolt when you left, but the front door swung right open, almost as if it hadn't been closed all the way.

You peeked your head through the doorway and glanced about the entry hall. The light on the security system indicated that it was still armed, and nothing seemed to be amiss.

You had never been one to ignore your first instinct, but your mind was immediately eased as your eager Rottweiler came shuffling down the dark hall to greet you. Spud was a protective dog, and surely wouldn't keep calm if there was any real danger. He didn't even like the mailman, and he definitely didn't like strangers.

"It's been a long day, buddy," you groaned as you reached down to tickle Spud behind the ear. Stepping into the entry hall and kicking off your tall stilettos, you reached for the light switch as you shut the front door behind you.

*Flick, flick. Flick...flick...*

"Power's out...that's odd."

The security system must have still been running on the backup generator, but there didn't seem to be any power in the rest of the house. You'd have to go through the kitchen to the garage to flip some breakers.

Exhausted from your long day at the office, you let out a lengthy sigh and ran the fingers of one hand through your long hair as you stood barefoot in the entryway. You spent way too much money on your salon blowout to be tousling your hair around, but after this long of a day, you could care less about appearances.

You glanced at your phone as you set down your briefcase, fumbling the objects and nearly dropping them both. Life seemed a constant balancing act.

Making note of the bright phone screen as you set both objects down on the cold marble, you found it rather odd - no new notifications. Your long-time boyfriend, Timothée, usually sent you multiple, incessant texts as he left whatever big-shot movie set he was working on for the day. You felt a pang of annoyance that quickly began to grow into frustration. Timothée expected texts nearly every hour on the hour, even if he knew he would have no time to respond. But he could just go ghost for a whole afternoon and not even text you to ask how your day was? Typical.

Giving Spud one last tickle behind the ear, you sauntered towards the dark hallway that led into the kitchen. Spud didn't follow.

You could hear the "pit-pat" sound of your feet on the marble floor as you walked down the hall. The only other sounds present seemed to be the crickets outside singing their late-night lament and the light, distant buzzing of the backup generator coming from the garage. You continued down the hall, your eyelids heavy from exhaustion. You paused for a moment in the darkness to take in the sounds of the night and rest your eyes. You allowed your breathing to slow, focusing on the cool inhale and the warm exhale of your breath - just like your therapist recommended. Your anxiety was at an all time high with the COO position opening up at work, and the last thing you needed was to turn back to benzos to feel "normal" again. Nothing "fixed" the problem quite like Xanax and a large glass of wine...but the breathing exercises did seem to help.

In and out, in and out. Your breathing steadied.

Who knows how long you stood there, alone in the dark in your meditative state. It had come to feel so strange in this big house all by yourself. You usually felt so truly alone, especially recently with Timothée spending most of his nights on set or at his own place in Calabasas. Maybe the breathing was actually helping. Maybe you were finally getting better, and all your crippling anxiety, the fear of being by yourself, was finally beginning to subside - until it occurred to you.

...What if you weren't actually alone?

Your eyes shot open at the thought and you frantically glanced at your surroundings. Spud was still sitting gingerly in the middle of the entry, staring at you as you stood in the hallway. His tail began to wag as you met his gaze, but the dog didn't budge. The white walls were littered with moving shadows cast by the lilac bushes outside the windows. Feeling your eyes beginning to play tricks on you, you blinked hard three times to adjust them to the darkness once more.

"This is so silly," you thought to yourself. "I'm just losing my mind...again. It's fine." You steadied your breathing again as you stood alone in the silence.

Silence.

The crickets had stopped chirping.

Feeling your body begin to tense, you slowly turned your head away from the entryway and back down the hall towards the kitchen - a black hole in the abyss. It took you a moment to recognize that you hadn't been breathing at all, the air captured in your lungs after your last inhale. You had been holding your breath, listening intently for any strange noises in the darkness.

And then, you heard it.

A slow, guttural, rasping breath. It was faint, but distinct, coming from somewhere on the other side of what suddenly seemed to be an eternal, unwavering darkness.

As your eyes slowly began to adjust even more, you noticed a dark, gleaming substance contrasting with the white tile floor at the edge of the kitchen, along with what appeared to be the stark glimmer of broken glass, barely illuminated by a small strand of weak moonlight.

Your first real thought was to turn and run. Back down the hallway, out the front door, and straight to the neighbors for help. You'd knock on their door and tell them...

...Tell them what?

The last time you knocked on your neighbors' door for help, you were frantic. Screaming, crying, shaking...it was just embarrassing. You couldn't remember exactly what had happened, but you were told you had some sort of psychotic break. Timothée had shown up moments later to take you home and reassure the neighbors, who were seconds away from calling the police. The police ended up coming anyways, but by the time they did, you were calm and collected. They chalked the whole thing up to a false alarm.

No. No neighbors. They were out of the question. For much the same reason, so were the police.

You quickly snapped away from your thoughts and back to immediate reality as Spud, still sitting in the entryway, began to smack his tail loudly on the marble. You didn't pretend to know the reason why he would possibly allow an intruder into the house. No stranger could possibly get past him...nor would they want to. "A Rottweiler with jaws of steel," as Timmy called him...not a chance.

...What if there was no intruder? Had you been imagining the whole thing? It wouldn't be the first time you had imagined something, or been afraid of the dark.

You stood still in the gloom of the hallway and strained to listen to the silence. Whatever sound you had heard that caused you so much fear and grief did not seem to be present anymore. Maybe it was just the generator, sputtering as it ran out of fuel. The faint buzzing of the machine was gone, and it was total silence now.

Standing in stillness for a moment more and failing to pick up on any other strange noises, you finally allowed yourself to let out your breath. You could feel your heartbeat lightly pounding against your ears.

Turning back towards the kitchen, you once again noted the glint of the glass and what appeared to be some sort of liquid on the floor. Knowing you needed to clean the mess up before Spud managed to cut himself, you slowly made your way down the hallway to the kitchen once more.

"Breathe. Relax. False alarm. Stop being a total nutcase," you whispered to yourself.

Finally entering the kitchen and heading in the direction of the garage door on the other side of the room, the moonlight shone through the large French doors leading to the patio. Still, the kitchen was much darker than the entry, even with the absence of shadows from lilacs and trees outside. It was nearly impossible to see without light.

Managing to make your way to the cabinets at the edge of the kitchen counter, you reached for the junk drawer and rummaged through the jumbled mess of odd household objects. A small flashlight made its way into your hands.

*Click.*

The flashlight turned on and illuminated the shadows in the room. Remembering the mess on the floor, you immediately shined the flashlight towards the edge of the tile and squinted to determine the gravity of the situation.

Three panes of the doors on the china cabinet at the edge of the kitchen had been shattered. A vase on one of the middle shelves had somehow managed to crash to the ground, and pieces of clear glass and ceramic littered the floor. Mishaps like this had certainly occurred before at the mercy of Spud, who was notoriously clumsy and easily made hyper by even the smallest of sounds.

But, is that...blood?

You tip toed closer to the mess, doing your best to avoid any stray shards of glass on the tile. Leaning down closer to the dark, gleaming substance, a hint of deep red was illuminated by the light of the flashlight. You reached down with one finger to touch the substance and make your determination.

As you reached down, you heard it again - louder this time.

A shuddering, rasping, guttural breath.

With one fluid motion of body and flashlight, you whipped around and rapidly shined the flashlight in every direction, into every corner and crevice...

...and that's when you saw him.

Timothée was standing in the corner of the kitchen near the French doors, just out of reach of the revealing moonlight, completely covered in blood. His face was expressionless, and there was a threatening darkness in his demeanor that did not yield despite being discovered. The familiar sparkle that so many people know and love was not present in his eyes. As his eyes met yours, his sharp jawline pulsed at the mandible as if he was gritting his teeth together, hard. There was something oddly familiar about the way his face appeared - somehow gentle, yet violent at the same time. A single drop of blood trailed down his cheek as he shook and shuddered in what could only be described as the calm storm of uncontrollable rage. The blood did not appear to be his own.

"T - T - Timmy?" you gasped, your voice barely audible as shock and fear lapped at your lips.

Timothée continued to stare at you with a menacing intensity, as if breaking eye contact would all but shatter reality. Your breath was trembling, but steady as you held his gaze.

"TIMMY!" you shouted with a certain convicted might that you had not held in your voice for a long, long time. The courage did not feel like yours.

At the sound of your uninhibited shout, Timothée broke his steadfast demeanor and lunged at...no, sprinted towards you as he let out an angry, growling yell. With one swift motion, his large hand stretched out to meet your throat, the force of the contact carrying you harshly backwards until your body slammed into the broken china cabinet. You let out a sharp cry in pain as you felt stray shards of broken glass penetrate the delicate skin of your bare feet. Timothée's strong grip tightened around your throat, his strength lifting your feet from the ground as the remaining panes in the china cabinet began to crack from the force. You felt your airway closing at the mercy of his fingers. The silver rings adorning his sturdy hands applied concentrated pressure to weaker areas of your fragile neck.

Slowly, Timothée moved closer, placing his soft lips near your cheek.

"Can you fucking breathe, you slut?" Timmy shuddered quietly into your ear, his hot breath like fire on your skin. The metallic smell of blood entered your nostrils through what remaining air passage was left.

"C-can't...f-f-fucking...br-ea-the," you managed, your voice like a faint whisper.

You could feel the blood rushing to your ears...hear it, even. Your heartbeat grew louder and louder, beating faster and faster until you could suddenly hear your pulse begin to slow.

As the room around you grew dim and distant, you could barely make out Timothée's face - bloody, angry, unfeeling. As you faded in and out, you thought for just a moment that you felt his demeanor suddenly weaken. You could hear his gentle, whimpering cries as his grip released from your throat and he guided your limp body to the ground.

"I love you, I'm sorry. I love you, I'm so sorry. Please, please, I'm so sorry."

You would never know whose blood covered Timmy's usually perfect, picturesque face, or why his love for you suddenly turned to rage. At least Spud was there to protect you from strangers.

#horror fiction #horror slashers #horror short #thriller #short stories #fiction #tw abuse #tw violent imagery #tw violence #short story #short fiction

[dracophilearts]

So a couple of months ago, the youtube channel PragMagik uploaded a "Goomy of Every Type" video (www.youtube.com/watch?v=dYlrsD… ) I love goomy and after watching a lot of videos by them and others I've been wanting to get back into making new pokemon. So I decided to do Sliggoo evolutions for them all! And then I decided screw it, let's make GOODRA too! And honestly, I'm happy how most all of them turned out so I'm going to share them. I even made an instagram for it, we'll see how often I update that...The water Goomy design is by Gooompy (www.instagram.com/gooompy)

And last but not least, probably my favorite of the bunch. I love the Blue Gaucus sea slug this goomy is based off of and ran with it as the inspiration. I like the first one and the almost dog-like, seal-ish quality of it's face and legs. I was trying to make it look regal and stout.

But I really love how Ryuugoo turned out. I focused on the wing-like fins Gaucus has, and eastern dragons, and I'm really proud how that watermane turned out. I referenced Haku from Spirited Away for his pose and mustache. At first I worried it was too different, but I loved the design too much and decided "well, it's going to be a regional evolution to whatever region it'd belong to!" The name Ryuugoo is a pun on Ryugu Palace, the undersea palace where the water dragon king lives in Japanese mythology. (I'm stupidly proud of this pun and yes, Ryu and Ryuu both mean dragon. I just figured go with the double "u" to match the double "O"). I decided to make them very moon based due to the tides, right down to using a moonstone to evolve since none of the others (maybe) don't use them. And yes, I made the shinies red like shiny gyarodos. I figure they might have a kind of rivalry if they ever met.

Electric Sliggoo and Goodra

Normal Sliggoo and Goodra

Ground Sliggoo and Goodra

Dark Sliggoo and Goodra

Grass Sliggoo and Goodra

Ice Sliggoo and Goodra

Ghost Sliggoo and Goodra

Bug Sliggoo and Goodrax

Flying Sliggoo and Goodra

Poison Sliggoo and Taropodra

Psychic Sliggoo and Goodra

Rock Sliggoo and Goodra

Fairy Sliggoo and Goodra

Fighting Sliggoo and Goodra

Fire Sliggoo and Goodra

Water Sliggoo and Ryuugoo

#goomy #sliggoo #goodra #water type #pokemon #fakemon