#headers prison break

[artiemisia]

⊹ my favorite tv shows (logo) headers ɞ..

like or reblog if you save

don't repost

#header #headers #simple header #simple headers #simple #logo #logo headers #logo header #tv shows headers #tv shows header #tv shows #prison break #la casa de papel #gossip girl #himym #how i met your mother #grey's anatomy

[lovelyhan]

— meet cute of the century (a teaser) ⟢

the last thing you expected when you volunteered at your city’s local animal shelter is to meet the hottest, clumsiest cat person in the world. now if only he’d just adopt one of them so you’d stop ogling him every time he drops by.

★ FEATURING; wonwoo x reader

★ WORD COUNT; 1.7k words

★ TAGS; meet cute, strangers to lovers, pining, some angst, smut (though this teaser is completely sfw!)

★ TAGS; mentions of accidents but it's not given much detail

★ NOTES; i'm back with my low quality wonwoo bf pics for my teaser headers hehe i am soooo excited to write the rest for this! honestly didn't think the teaser would end up this long but here we are :3c little heads up that some parts of this teaser could change in the full story, but nothing major plot-wise will be taken out. hope you like it!

this is part of the doting on you! series.

There are a handful of things that a college student can do with their free time. Studying, hanging out with friends, and maybe even picking up a hobby of sorts. You, on the other hand, use up all the hours you’re not spending on your undergrad thesis or sleeping the day away at an animal shelter just a few minutes away from your apartment. 

Your friends constantly wonder how you’re still able to maintain a remarkable GPA with a part-time job that’s starting to look full-time, but you just laugh their questions off for the most part—saying that other people have got it worse than you, but can still perform leagues better academically. 

You also tell them that most of your motivation comes from all the unadopted animals from the shelter. You started as a volunteer just to kill time on weekends when you’re free, but even if you knew better than to get attached to all those adorable faces, you eventually found yourself on the part-time employee roster anyways. 

Now you’re rushing to finish your degree so you can get a neat sugar mommy job that’ll let you afford to adopt everyone that’s been stuck in the shelter for nearly a year or more.

Okay, maybe not everyone because you’re no fool with a savior complex. But just enough to give a few furry friends a new home, right?

“Don’t look now,” your coworker, Mari whispers conspiratorially while you’re in the middle of snacking in the break room, “but that cutie you’ve been crushing on just walked inside. He’s checking out the cats out in the playroom as usual.”

Right. Apart from your altruistic dream of adopting as many animals as your financial capabilities can allow, there’s another reason you’re always looking forward to your shifts at the shelter. A reason that you’re a bit too embarrassed to let your friends know about.

You nearly choke on a potato chip when Mari breaks the news and she immediately laughs in your face. Glaring at her, you compose yourself with a long gulp of water before saying, “I do not have a crush on him.”

“Sure,” she plays along. “If you consider making googly eyes at the guy every time he drops by as ‘not having a crush on him’, then I’ll concur.” 

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t, sweetheart. Now get out there and sweet talk him into take one of the kittens home! Pretty sure he wants one if he’s been showing up as much as he did for the last two months.” 

While you would’ve argued that the so-called cutie you’ve been crushing on could just like seeing the cats play around in his free time, you don’t really have much energy to play mental gymnastics with Mari. You’ve had a long day of revisions and other nonsense materials you have to submit for your majors, so you’ll let this one slide.

Your workplace is as bleak as every other shelter you’ve seen a few times in your life. Gray walls, concrete floors, and steel cages stacked on top of each other. It looks more like a prison than anything, really, but it’s the staff and those kind-hearted souls who rehome animals that have long been abandoned that give the entire place some life.

While Mister Cutie That You’ve Been Quote-Unquote Crushing On doesn’t exactly fall into either of those categories, you like to think he still leaves the building just a touch colorful once he walks out of the front door. 

Speaking of color, he’s wearing a loose, dark green shirt that falls just below his elbows. Cutie—as you’ve deigned to call him not because you think he’s cute but because you’re yet to get his name—has one palm flattened across the viewing glass of the playroom. He’s wearing his usual black face mask today, but from the way his eyes glint behind his glasses, you’re just going to assume he’s having a good time just by watching the cats frolic inside.

“You’re here pretty late,” you state nonchalantly before standing a few feet away from him. 

“Is that so strange?” he murmurs with a chuckle, surprisingly not startled with your sudden entrance before glancing your way. “I always show up here at this hour, don’t I?”

God. No matter how many times you hear his voice, you just can’t get over how deep it is. But before any of your thoughts could show on your face, you get talking.

“True. You’ve sparked a debate among the volunteers about your line of work, actually.” Not exactly. You’re not sure if any of the volunteers have even seen this guy, since they mostly work day shifts. “Anyway, are you just here to check ‘em out or am I finally going to hand you the adoption papers?”

His eyes crinkle a bit before he shifts his gaze towards the playroom again. Most of the older cats have already been put back in their respective cages. All that’s left inside are the kittens with way too much energy to spare. The director, A.K.A., your boss, believes that it’s best to tire them out first before settling them into individual enclosures for the night. Keeps the place nice and quiet for the evening shift fellows like yourself.

“Not yet, sadly,” Cutie says with a sigh before pointing at one of the kittens huddled up in a corner. “That one’s new, isn’t it? I don’t think I’ve seen him around before.” 

“Her,” you correct. “Her name’s Hani. She’s a stray that someone from the university I’m attending brought in last week. It was pretty ugly, actually. Poor thing got into an accident and was bleeding everywhere. Good thing our usual vet was paying a visit when they came here.”

“Oh? That’s a relief then. No wonder she’s got a little limp every time she walks around,” he observes with a saddened tone. “But I digress. You mentioned you were attending university?”

…Okay, why’d the topic of interest suddenly shift to you? 

But since it’s a harmless enough question, you reply with, “Yeah. The one that’s just a few blocks away. It’s kinda why the person who found Hani brought her here instead of a vet clinic. The nearest one’s like half an hour away.”

“Good call, good call.” He nods with a look of understanding. “I hope someone comes and adopts her. She deserves all the love she can get. Well, everyone here does of course.” 

You flash him a conniving smile, raising your brows a few times. “You could give that to her.”

Cutie shakes his head with another low-pitched laugh. “As much as I’d love to, my…living conditions won’t be suitable for her at all. Or any of the other animals for the matter.”

“Hm?” You stare at him curiously. “Your landlord doesn’t allow pets or something?”

“Mmm… Not exactly.”

The conversation pretty much ends there. Cutie excuses himself—saying that someone is waiting for him at home. You don’t know why your heart deflates a little at the very real possibility that he has a significant other. Then again, if you’re this whipped when you haven’t even seen his face, you could only imagine how easy it would be for him to settle down with someone who has.

Either way, it’s none of your business. And correction: you’re not whipped. Just…hyper aware of his presence every time he stops by.

Despite the fact that you’re dead-set on filing away this strange fascination you have for the guy, however…

“Wait!”

Cutie turns around to face you with an inquisitive look. “Yes?”

You swallow thickly, deciding to just bite the bullet before your nerves get the best of you. “What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you Cu—I mean, Glasses Guy in my head whenever you pay us a visit.”

He blinks for a few seconds, obviously nonplussed by your forwardness but you don’t think your pride can take it anymore if you had to refer to him as—

“You can call me Woo,” he says warmly and you can almost see the smile that stretches behind that black face mask.

Shit. Did your heart just stutter?

“Mister Woo—”

“Just Woo is fine.”

“Okay, Woo,” you start, kind of liking the way that something that’s obviously a nickname rolls off the tongue, “just let me know if you ever want to take Hani home. We’re open twenty four-seven, as you already know.”

He nods. “Sure thing. Is it okay if I can get your number for that?”

Now you have to fight the urge to scowl at him after he’s been so nice to you all night—and every other night he’s dropped by. 

This guy isn’t flirting with you. He said it himself—someone’s waiting for him at home! Plus, he’s expressed consistent interest in adopting a kitten for himself a handful of times before. Maybe he just connected with Hani on a level that’s above the others. Enough to ask for your number since the possibility of him bringing one of these angels home is becoming more and more real. 

Yeah, that’s definitely the reason!

So you give it to him—hastily scrawled behind an old flier gathering dust in one of the drawers on the front desk. It’s way too big to write just yours and the shelter’s contact details on, but the other calling cards are nowhere in sight. You’ll have to ask Mari if she’s seen them once—

“Thanks. I’ll keep in touch,” Woo tells you while folding the sheet of paper into a sleek black Louis Vuitton wallet.

Wait a minute.

Before you can even seriously ponder about what job he’s got to be able to afford that, Woo is already out of the door—heading into the evening streets without once looking back. 

“Gosh, I swear that guy’s an idol in disguise or something.”

That’s the first thing that Mari tells you when you find her doing a few rounds among the sleeping dogs in the far back. You haven’t even spoken a single word about your most recent exchange. 

“What makes you think that?” 

“He just exudes idol vibes, y’know? Shows up here when the place is deserted. Always acts subtle and inconspicuous. Oh and not to mention how hot he looks even with a face mask on! He could be that one idol your little sister is crazy about.” 

You roll your eyes at her odd ways of deduction. “Mari, I’ve seen enough of Haewon’s Mingyu merch to last a lifetime and Woo definitely does not look like him.”

“Oh?” Your coworker perks up with a mischievous smile. “You finally got his name, huh?”

God. This is going to be a long shift.

want to be included in the taglist? send me an ask!

#svthub #seventeen smut #wonwoo smut #wonwoo fanfic #seventeen fanfic #wonwoo x reader #seventeen x reader #lovelyhan

[sophiethewitch1]

1K CELEBRATION EVENT OPEN! CLOSED!

Hello, welcome! This event is going to celebrate my first thousand followers :D!! It's as the header says, a yandere alphabet, but with my special brand of soft yandere. Please feel free to send in letters for whoever you'd like, there's no limit, I might just pick and choose if you request a lot of letters. Thank you so much for following, I'm so happy you're here! Let's keep having lots of fun together <3 <3

ACCEPTING A-Z REQUESTS FOR:

The batboys (Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, Duke) The batgirls (Barbara, Steph, Cass) My OCs (Silvan, Daire, etc.) MAYBE for most DC characters, blue lock characters, bnha characters

Alphabet made by @/jaydenchip404 tysm for making this!

List below the cut!

A = Affection (Is Their Love All-consuming, Expressed Through Possessive Gestures and Overwhelming Intensity With No Bounds?):

B = Blood (How Messy Are They Willing to Get in Pursuit of Their Darling? Would They Embrace Chaos and Revel in the Crimson Tableau Painted by Their Actions?):

C = Cruelty (Once Abducted, How is Their Treatment Marked by a Twisted Sense of Devotion? Does Mockery Become a Dark Form of Endearment?):

D = Darling (Beyond Morality, is Any Act Justified in Their Pursuit of Their Darling? Is Consent Merely an Obstacle to Be Overcome?):

E = Exposed (To What Extent Do They Bare Their Heart to Their Darling? How Vulnerable Are They When It Comes to Their Obsession?):

F = Fight (Does Resistance Only Fuel Their Passion? Do They Find Thrill in the Chase and the Challenge of Subduing Their Darling?):

G = Game (Is Every Move Meticulously Orchestrated, Turning the Pursuit Into a Twisted Game? Do They Derive Pleasure From Watching Their Darling Attempt Escape?):

H = Hell (How Carefully Crafted is Their Darling's Worst Experience, Designed to Break the Spirit While Strengthening the Bonds of Possession?):

I = Ideals (Does Their Envisioned Future Solely Revolve Around the Union With Their Darling? Is Their Love the Only Guiding Force?):

J = Jealousy (Does Jealousy Course Through Their Veins, Leading to Possessive Outbursts and a Relentless Need to Eliminate Perceived Threats?):

K = Kisses (Are Their Acts of Affection Both Tender and Suffocating? Do Their Kisses Blend Love and Possession, Leaving No Room for Escape?):

L = Love Letters (Is Courting an Intricate Dance Marked by Obsessive Letters and Gestures That Blur the Line Between Devotion and Insanity?):

M = Mask (How Drastic is the Difference Between Their Public Facade and True Self? Is the World Seeing a Mask, While Their Darling Witnesses Unfiltered Madness?):

N = Naughty (Is Punishment a Dark Art, a Methodical Infliction of Pain Designed to Correct Perceived Transgressions and Reinforce Control?):

O = Oppression (How Many Rights Are They Willing to Take Away From Their Darling, Molding Their World Into a Prison of Their Design?):

P = Patience (Is Their Patience a Calculated Facade, Concealing the Storm Brewing Beneath the Surface? Is It a Waiting Game for the Perfect Moment?):

Q = Quit (Is Moving on an Alien Concept for Them? Would the Death, Departure, or Escape of Their Darling Shatter Their World, Leaving Behind an Irreparable Void?):

R = Regret (Would Guilt Ever Be a Foreign Emotion, Overridden by the Conviction That Their Actions Are Justified? Is the Idea of Letting Their Darling Go Inconceivable?):

S = Stigma (Can the Roots of Their Obsession Be Traced to a Dark Past, a Blend of Childhood Trauma, Twisted Curiosity, and a Skewed Perception of Love?):

T = Tears (Does the Sight of Their Darling's Suffering Evoke a Twisted Pleasure, a Morbid Satisfaction Reinforcing Their Control?):

U = Unique (Do They Defy the Classic Yandere Archetype, Adding Layers of Complexity That Make Them Unpredictable and More Unnerving?):

V = Vice (Do Exploitable Weaknesses Exist, and is Discovering Them a Perilous Endeavor? Does Their Darling Tread on a Thin Line Between Manipulation and Survival?):

W = Wit's End (Is Hurting Their Darling a Dark Possibility, a Consequence of Their Unraveling Sanity When Faced With the Threat of Loss?):

X = Xoanon (Does Their Reverence for Their Darling Border on Worship, Reaching Extreme Lengths to Prove Their Devotion and Ensure Unwavering Loyalty?):

Y = Yearn (Is the Pining Relentless, an Insatiable Hunger That Consumes Their Every Waking Moment Until It Inevitably Snaps Into Obsession?):

Z = Zenith (Is Breaking Their Darling a Twisted Fantasy, the Ultimate Expression of Possession and the Culmination of Their Demented Love?):

#Event:1kCelebration #yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere batfamily #yandere x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader #batfam x reader

[jordifaedia]

oh yeah, pluma operation record analysis time. let's go.

content warnings: spoilers for la pluma's oprec; general lore about pluma, dossoles holiday. this will be divided into two sections, because read the header for this post, also pluma is referred to as 'pluma' instead of 'la pluma' or 'rafaela' throughout this post if you even care.

I. the la pluma analysis

there are multiple things you learn about la pluma in her operation record; she's a daughter of many (not blood related), she dislikes trouble, and she and pancho have a more seemingly closer bond than pancho does with tequila.

the general summary of the operation record is that la pluma is at dossoles, there's a couple people who want to break her dad out of jail, and she has to try and stop that before candela's guards well.. you know, kill them or try to imprison them.

"why can't she just let them go break her father out of jail?" while la pluma is extremely close to her father, and i personally think that even if she loves him deeply and wishes he was probably by her side.. that doesn't mean she wants him to be broken out of prison! listen, you can love your family members as much as you want but when you know they're in trouble for something. you know they have to pay the consequences for it. also, a free dad at the cost of dead true bolivarian soldiers? yeah no, not worth it (in pluma's eyes, in which it's pretty implied that the bolivarian soldiers are close to her. see photos below)

right, so what makes la pluma's operation record different from, i don't know, everything else about her?

in her operation record you learn that this takes place a little after, or shortly after (like hours, maybe) tequila's own oprec. so there's a timeframe for you.

in order to understand tequila, you have to understand one thing. do. not. seperate. the. dossoles. siblings. like, not even in a "they're a duo so cute!" way, no like there's a crap ton of lore about tequila in la pluma's oprec and his family, and there's lore in tequila's file about la pluma. in order to understand one character, you have to go to the other. that's how deeply connected they are. even if you want to like one character solely out of the duo, you're going to have to go to the other persons file and find information about them that you can't find through their sole file/oprec. because yes, that's how much they care about each other.

you learn that the flower that was pinned on pancho's wife's chest was a lilac, which i already talked about it's significance in another post. you also find out small quirks about pluma, like that she can still make some pretty damn good food, and that she's just genuinely kind-hearted despite you know.. being apart of the salas family.. having to kill others. all that jazz.

pluma manages to show kindness towards everyone in the oprec, despite the fact that yes, they're trying to break her papa out of prision. and she doesn't want that to happen obviously, yet it's clear that she still.. cares for everyone that's trying to go through the stupid plan. she doesn't want them to get hurt, she doesn't want them to come home dead. we don't know if tio, or the other soldier have a family back at home (though, i wouldn't be surprised if they do) and for them to give up their lives for said family would be heart wrenching.

pluma, despite being considered 'aloof' by most, is smart. she knows that if they go ahead with this plan, they'll end up just making pancho pay the price even more. candela is keeping a close eye on pluma anyways, since she kept talking to the true bolivarian soldiers, which had already settled as a red flag in her eyes. pluma knows that candela doesn't really trust her after the events of dossoles holiday. you know, where candela basically found out pancho including his children plotted to blow up a fucking city behind her back, and they could of gotten away with it almost. sort of. not really.

i'm not the best at explaining things, so i have to bring up a major point to follow smaller points. so here, i'll go with a big point. it is a massive misconception that pluma is "air-headed" like, only filled of pure air. and that is solely because of poor writing in dossoles holiday, as well as the fact in her voicelines.. it's just unironically doctorbait for those who go goo goo ga ga heart eyes at her. which yeah, i don't mind that. pretty women deserve to be loved, but people don't really understand her character beyond that point. luckily, pluma's oprec helps clear up some of these misconceptions. and provides a bigger view on pluma as a whole instead.

you learn about the things i've already told you, she's the emotional bandage between the rip that was left by mrs. salas's death, she's a daughter, a sister, and a good caretaker at that too. she genuinely cares for those around her, and does not like the idea of resorting to criminal acts (most likely because of dossoles holiday, and the bad association with them.) and oh boy, does she make this clear to the reader.

pluma has a strong connection to her family, after all this entire oprec is mostly centered around her family if you haven't noticed. she wants to be involved in family affairs, she wants to be understood. however, most of the time people undermine her consistently and just assume "she's a little girl", and that "she doesn't know what she's doing" basically, even though.. like i said before, that's not true. she's smart, she knows what she's doing. and there's always a reason why she does the things she does. this is one of her major conflicts as a character, is the fact that everyone wants to continue thinking of pluma as some sweet innocent angel who got dragged into war, when she isn't.

innocent? no. angelic? far from it, she assisted helping tequila and pancho attempt to blow up a city. sweet? yeah, that's pretty true. even so, she was a child soldier. of course she was innocent back then, what do you expect children to be like? but even so, she went into dossoles holiday with a clear mind, knowing what to do. she wanted to help her papa, and her brother, and help the true bolivarians with their victory. there is no "she's the damsel in distress", because she never was in distress in the first place. in her files, she literally says she wanted to be apart of the plan because she kept getting pissed off that she was being left out practically.

in the best words possible, she is a hard shell to break. she doesn't give up, and when she knows what's best for her, she will keep pushing through until she reaches her goal. most people are under the impression that la pluma doesn't have a single clue on what's she's doing, and that she's just some airheaded little sister (which feeds into the mischaracterization of pluma that is already rapid across the fandom.) she's not, hope this helps!

also to note, candela also knows that pluma is not some "sweet behaved" girl that her brother (tequila) seemingly told her, which should say enough by itself.

but even despite the fact she's aware of the consequences of helping her brother, for continuing to affiliate with the true bolivarians past dossoles holiday, and just.. i don't know, existing? she's still a girl.

la pluma's operation record provides answers to unanswered questions, (ex. what flower is pinned on mrs. salas' chest, what is pluma's relationship with her father, what happened after pancho went to jail, etc) but it also still manages to not be purely about pluma's family. because as much as she's associated with them, and they're a pretty big portion of her character.. she's still her own being.

la pluma has emotions. she gets sad, mad, happy, all of the above or some other feeling i didn't list. she's still human despite the fact people see her as a hardworking woman on the battlefield, protecting herself and her brother. or whether people still think she's some aloof cute scythegirl, she's much more under the surface.

when she defeats pancho's soldiers, it is obviously stated in the above image that she was crying. sobbing? no, just a couple tears. it's clear to the reader that pluma had no intentions of wanting to hurt tio, or people she considered close to her. in fact, it seems like that thought entirely probably was a thought she never wanted to conclude to.

she could of let them attempt to save pancho from jail, possibly get injured or even worse die, but she doesn't. she wants to keep them alive, and hope they eventually change their ways (obviously this doesn't happen, as they try to keep going with the plan yet fail miserably due to pluma probably hurting them herself.) pluma knows the only way despite her internal feelings is to either:

as you can tell, she picked option b. while we don't know what exactly caused her to cry, we can assume one thing. it was most likely because she felt bad for hurting them, or just doing a 'bad' act (not the best wording, trust me on this one)

a) try to resolve this through conversation (doesn't work)

b) step in yourself and even if it hurts them, stop them (works)

she doesn't want to be, i suppose, 'the bad guy'. but when push comes to shove, she has to do whats right. even if it contains hurting those around her. however, it's not like that'll have no consequences on herself.

between the dossoles siblings, you can safely say pluma can be considered the more emotional one out of the two. while tequila does in fact have his own emotional moments, he masks it all under this "happy-go-lucky" mask, compared to pluma who doesn't really repress what she's feeling. she is more empathetic, at least.

under tequila's mask is a more hardened, blunt soul compared to pluma, who i'd like to say is like slime. she's solid, unlike water, yet she can still be meshed around. just like her emotions, she can be tough while maintaining her true feelings about situations. sometimes, those feelings will arise.

i wouldn't say pluma hates violence in its entirety because that would be wrong. what she hates is people being a threat to her family, or hurting those close to her.

"but she hurt tio, as well as another soldier." when people you love are doing stupid shit and are too far deep in for conversation, and trying to get them out of said shit peacefully doesn't work, it's okay to be a little mean. it's okay to raise your sword. sometimes, you need to be a little harsh on an individual so they can get it through their head.

as nearing the finality of the oprec, the themes of family grow louder and louder. it becomes clear to the viewer that the assumption people have from a skim in pluma's files begins to become.. something else. she's confident, and knows what she's doing. and you get to see her care for her family even more than she already has during the final scene of her oprec, in which she purchases lilacs for her family, the same flowers that were associated with tequila's mother's death.

III. final thoughts/conclusion (misc thoughts)

a must-read, pluma's oprec is a read you have to read in order to understand both tequila a little more, but especially pluma on. the amount of screentime she got in dossoles holiday was humiliating, and did her so dirty that people can't even seem to understand her correctly. luckily, pluma's oprec attempts to amend those poor writing tatics used in dossoles holiday, and make it much clearer that she has a bigger impact on tequila and his father than expected.

they're not going to rewrite dossoles holiday and release it as a 'rerun of a rerun' as much as i want that medal set, and better characterization of pluma, plus many more factors. so, you have to make do with what you have.

pluma in general, is a lovely character. her design is unique, and isn't too complex that it becomes an eyesore. the color pallete choice is wonderful, pleasing on my eyes, and her personality itself is very adorable. and i really like how family-associated she is. i really do wish more people liked her, and i know most of the time people are quick to brush her under as 'fanservice for the doctor' or 'tequila's little sister', but she's seriously interesting.

so yeah. go read her oprec.

#arknights #arknightsposting #la pluma arknights #arknights la pluma #la pluma

[twirlyeyebrows]

Heyaa! Not sure if u'll take this request right away. I've been thinking about scenarios for Ace, Mihawk, Luffy, and Kid reacting to their s/o execution announcement. And how they'll treat them after the rescue. Some angst with a fluffy ending~~🤭

hi omg i saw this in my inbox and whipped some scenarios up asap.. this is such a good prompt tytyty <3 also i've been meaning to write mihawk and this was perfect 🙏😫 hope you enjoy !! :)

✶ Ace, Luffy, Kid, & Mihawk React to Your Execution Sentence ✶

♡ Content Warnings: heavy mentions of death/murder ahead

♡ GN reader

♡ Word Count: 2.4k

Everything seemed fine. He hadn't seen you in a few days but that was normal, you guys were pirates after all. He glanced at the News Coo and held out a palm, clutching the newspaper when it fell down to him. He read the header.

“(Y/N) SENTENCED TO EXECUTION”

He threw the paper down and…

♡ Ace ♡

Immediately began thinking of ways to get you out of the situation.

His head was all over the place, running back and forth from idea to idea, trying desperately to grasp onto one that made sense. He ignored the tears that rolled down his cheeks, he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if his emotions were the thing that got in the way of you coming back to him.

He furiously grabbed the nearest transponder snail and called every friend he'd made during his journey out at sea. He was going to ask each one of them for their help, nothing to him could ever be direr, and if he had to create an army just to save you, then he was going to, dammit.

Naturally, your crew, the Whitebeard Pirates, were all instantly on board with the rescue plan. They couldn't simply leave one of their siblings behind, and Pops wasn't in the market to lose one of his children. They changed course and set out to you without a second to spare.

Ace would be lying if he said he didn't blame himself. He should've been more careful with you and should've kept an eye out for you more often. You were free-spirited and wild, a lot like him. He always worried about you but you were strong and able to get yourself out of many sticky situations so he often let you wander for days at a time without stressing. This, however… was different. This was worldwide. This was everyone against you. He couldn't stop the feeling of guilt from eating away at every cell in his body. He didn't care what happened to him, he didn't care what he was going to have to risk and sacrifice to keep you safe, all he could do was think about you. He swore that if.. no, not if… when he got you back, he would be a better boyfriend. The kind of boyfriend that wouldn't let something like this happen to you. The kind of boyfriend you deserve.

Through many trials and tribulations and help from friends around the world, he was finally able to snag you away from the marines where you were being held captive. It was an all-out prison break that required utmost stealth and precision- thank god Ace had a crew to back him up or he wouldn't have been able to do it. With each obstacle they faced, he pursued on. No matter how torturous, dangerous, or downright stupid it was. The fire that bubbled in his stomach kept him from worrying about anything else but your well-being.

When you two were finally reunited, he scooped you up and held you tighter than he ever had before.

“Holy shit, (Y/n)! You're safe, Jesus Christ, you're safe!”

Tears smeared against your skin as he cried into you, gripping you with his fingertips as if you were going to slip away from him again.

You tried to calm him down. You said words of thanks while also calling him an idiot for rescuing you. He could've gotten hurt… or worse… he was lucky he made it here and was able to achieve his goal at the same time. But what else did you expect from Fire-Fist Ace himself?

Of course, a battle ensued afterward, fighting your way through marines and bounty hunters alike, just to get you safely on the Whitebeard ship once more.

The entire crew made fun of you for somehow being the first one to get a proper execution announcement. They lightheartedly congratulated you, saying things like “(Y/n) is finally a real pirate!” and “It should've been me!” The only one who sat out on the fun was Ace.

It was clear that your capture had affected him a lot, even more than it had affected you and you were the one who was supposed to die. You spent a lot of time with him after that, more than you already had.

He clung to you like a lost puppy. He rarely let you out of his sight and no matter how low-stakes the battle, he always jumped in front of you.

He had to fall asleep with you in his arms or he'd stay awake all night. If you weren't in the bed next to him when he woke up, he'd sprint around until he found you. You felt awful for making Ace so dependent on your safety, but he said over and over again that he liked it like this. He loved to watch over you. Loved to make sure you were safe. There was nothing he enjoyed more than seeing your smiling face walking over to him or hearing your laugh from the room over.

The event had left scars on both of you but ultimately brought you both closer together.

♡ Luffy ♡

Didn’t panic for one second.

He's saved his friends a million times before, this was no different. Not only did he have confidence in himself, but he also had incredible amounts of confidence in you too. If anything, he was proud of you for getting an execution sentence worthy of a King of the Pirates.

He had zero hesitation when he decided to rescue you. It didn't matter where the Straw Hats were right now, what mattered was you and getting you back. He'd sacrifice part of his journey to becoming king in a heartbeat to help you out of this. And of course, all your friends agreed.

The real problems started when it didn't go as smoothly as they wished. Being the Straw Hat Pirates, everyone knows who you guys are. It felt impossible to get around the fleets upon fleets of marines that guarded you. Luffy's emotions shone through as each battle took away time from seeing you again.

“GET OUT OF MY WAY, I HAVE TO SAVE (Y/N)!” He screamed to each enemy at the top of his lungs.

He started to lose composure. His crewmates watched him get angrier with each punch, with each soldier he knocked out. By the time he found you, he had become someone completely different, mindlessly tearing through the crowd to get back what means the most to him. It was horrifying to witness.

But the second he slingshot his arms out and grabbed you from feet away, his normal goofy self came back. He was smiling ear to ear, giggling the cute “Shishishi”s you love so much. You hugged him back and squished his rubber cheeks, leaving a small and grateful kiss on each one after they returned to their normal state.

“I knew you'd come for me! Thank you!” You said in admiration and love. You had been scared, but not for your own life, you were scared for everyone who stood in Luffy’s way.

He had come for you, just as you knew he would. Your heart was full to the brim. You could hear the beat of it drumming against your chest as he did too.

He wasn't mad at you for slipping past him, he wasn't belittling you on how you couldn't fight back, he was just there to help when you needed it. Classic Luffy.

“Of course! Why wouldn't I?” He grinned and put a hand on your head, ruffling your hair before kissing you on the forehead.

The other Straw Hats watched in awe as the hellish version of Luffy washed away as he embraced you. It was a friendly reminder never to cross him, or more importantly, you.

Luffy turned to the crew. “Alright! We got (Y/n), now let's go eat!” He yelled as he threw you in the air and caught you on his shoulders.

He carried you by piggyback all the way back to the ship. You tried to ignore the sea of passed-out marines below you.

♡ Kid ♡

Shrugged his shoulders while giving a loud sigh.

“I knew this would happen sooner or later, (Y/n) just can't stay out of trouble. I love it.” Kid chuckled, being impressed with your achievement. Your hunger for battle only made him more attracted to you, and this took the cake. Getting an execution sentence was a big deal and he'd make sure to tell you when you eventually came back. He wasn't worried about you, you were more than capable of holding your own.

It only got concerning when it had been a week since the paper was released. He thought that you would've been back by now. He tried not to let his emotions show, he knew he'd get pestered by the rest of the crew if he showed any concern over you, even if he was your boyfriend.

He sat restlessly in his bed, paced around the ship, and even began pulling out strands of fiery red hair in worriedness. He hated that he got like this, nothing had ever made him feel this nervous before. He didn't like not having you by his side, making snide comments and shoving him around. He was fed up on anger and anxiety. Who cared what other people thought? He was going to come save your ass.

The feat was not an easy one, but he got the job done. He went alone. He didn't want anyone else to get the satisfaction of being the one to bring you home. If you needed to be saved, he was going to be your knight (though he'd never tell you that).

He killed everyone in sight without a second thought. He didn't care about morality. He didn't care about keeping a clean slate. He had come to get you back and he'd succeed however was necessary.

By the time he got to you, the entire area was soaked with blood. The bodies were sprawled across the ground in heinous configurations. Scraps of metal were scattered through the battlefield. You didn't care. This was a normal occurrence for your hot-headed boyfriend.

You ignored the pungent smell of iron and scoffed at Kid as he walked up to you and tore off the chains that shackled you.

“Took you long enough.” You spat at him sarcastically.

“I thought you'd be able to get yourself out, you're lucky I came for you at all.” He growled back to you, but with far less malice than usual.

You knew he wouldn't say it, but he was glad to have you back. You could see it in his eyes, his posture, his voice. The way he threw you over his shoulder with care and the way he kissed your lips softly instead of passionately. He was relieved you were safe, he didn't need to say it for you to know.

Once you were back on the ship, he didn't even brag about his accomplishment. He told everyone that you'd come back on your own and he had nothing to do with it. You couldn't believe your ears. He'd covered for you in a time of weakness and embarrassment. He leaned against the wall and smiled smugly at you as you were praised by the other members of your crew for escaping the authorities by yourself.

You stood in awe as you felt yourself falling for him all over again.

♡ Mihawk ♡

Rolled his eyes.

“How immature.” He said, stepping out of his chair at the head of the table. “You could've at least been more careful, (Y/n).” He said to no one.

Despite his belittlement, he wasn't just going to leave you to fend for yourself. He was a gentleman at heart who deeply cared for you. Plus, life was lonely when you weren't by his side. You brightened up the dull island he lived on. The bleak parts of his daily activities became full of light when he did them with you. He wasn't going to let the one good thing he had be taken away from him. But he was going to be slightly peeved, regardless.

He was a very scheduled man. He knew what each day entailed to a tee. You had thrown a wrench into his normality and he was admittedly a bit irked. Though he secretly enjoyed the rush it gave him. Not many things scared Dracule Mihawk anymore, he'd seen and fought it all, but this was new.

As he prepared to leave, he felt a feeling he hadn't experienced in a long time- fear. Genuine fear of the unknown. Unsure if he'd be able to reach you fast enough. Not knowing how many obstacles would stand in his way. It was thrilling but he couldn't fathom the idea of losing you.

He hoisted his famous black blade on his back and set off, leaving the dreary mansion behind to take back his light.

The problem wasn't the rescue itself, it was getting there. A trip from the island to you was a difficult one. Yes, he was a warlord, but that didn't stop people from coming after him. Weaklings wanting to test their power, citizens that were angry at the government, and bounty hunters all came after him in monstrous huddles. He defeated each one with ease, growing annoyed at how they wouldn't stop coming.

Eventually, he reached you. He had no problem getting past the marines, what were they going to do? Strip him of his title? Walking up those cold steps to where you were in cuffs was a breeze, but he would've fought every single one of them if he had had to.

When he laid his sharp eyes on you, he melted. His heart hurt seeing you so exhausted and damaged, shackled like a rowdy dog. He was angry. Angry that anyone had the nerve to treat you like that.

The handcuffs were no harder to snap than a twig. He carried you bridal style all the way to the small boat he had arrived on. He made sure to give each soldier a menacing glare on his way out as if to say “If you try to take (Y/n) again, you're all dead.”

When you got back to the mansion, he treated you like royalty. Your dismissive and pessimistic boyfriend became someone else. He tended to your every need, spoon-fed you your medicine, and wouldn't let you out of his field of vision until he was positive you were fully recovered.

You couldn't help but poke fun at him.

“Who are you and what did you do with my boyfriend?” You joked to him after he brought you your third cup of tea one afternoon. His cheekbones were highlighted with a rosy hue and he scowled at you.

He knew he was acting different, being overly tentative when you didn't need it, but he couldn't help it. That day had changed him. It made him remember that he could still get scared. That you were something he could lose.

He swore to never let something like that happen again. Anyone that wanted to kill you had to go through him first, and they’d need all the luck in the world to even get a chance.

#one piece scenario #one piece headcanons #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #portgas d ace headcanons #luffy headcanons #eustass kid headcanons #mihawk headcanons #portgas d ace x reader #luffy x reader #eustass kid x reader #mihawk x reader #twirlyeyebrows

[traffic-light-eyes]

Ninjago Chirp Au Masterlist

Introductions

1. Something's coming...

2. Ninja PFP

3. Ninja Friends' Accounts

4. Ninjas' Accounts

Chirps

1. Green

2. My Cake

3. Fi-ya13

4. Ghosted

5. Hate Crime

6. Ma Po Tofu

7. What have they been doing???

8. F2F 2 Tournament

9. True?

10. Nindroid?

11. Music

12. Really?

13. Lemons

14. Lookin' nice

15. Candy!!

16. Summoned

17. Little Guy (part 1)

18. Little Guy (part 2)

19. PFP

20. Oopsie

21. Little Guy (part 3)

22. Little Guy (Final)

23. Catboys (part 1)

24. Catboys (part 2)

25. The Sea

26. Catboys (Final)

27. New Shirts

28. Ao3

29. Baby

30. Age

31. Age (part 2)

32. E-Girl

33. Header

34. Apology

35. Age (part 3)

36. Schmooze

38. :3

39. Moana

40. Reader

41. Cashapp

42. Age (part 4)

43. Prison break

44. Reader (part 2)

45. Gym

46. Gay

47. Creeper? Aw, man

48. Friend (part 1)

49. Hair

50. Murder??

51. Addicted

52. Stale Water

53. Homosapien

54. Falcon

55. Hunger

56. Date night!

57. Anime

58. Bawling

59. Kick

60. Frozen, but cake

61. [Redacted]

62. Teehee

63. Haters

64. Pair

65. Shipping

66. Siblings

67. Living with the Ninja

68. McDonald's

69. McDonald's (part 2)

70. Friend (part 2)

71. Games

72. Die

73. Stabby

74. Twitter

75. Stuffed animal (part 1)

76. Stuffed animal (part 2)

77. Gender

78. Coffee

79. Sleepover (part 1)

80. Sleepover (part 2)

81. Fox

82. Grass

83. Worm

84. Demiboy

85. Pronouns

86. Friend (part 3)

87. Arataki Itto

88. Passenger Princess

89. Crimes

90. Alien

91. Murder

92. Trauma???

93. The Holidays

94. Itchy

Masterlist 2

#ninjago #queue #lloyd garmadon #kai smith #kai jiang #nya jiang #nya smith #jay walker #cole brookstone #zane julien #pixal borg #ninjago harumi #ninjago morro #skylor chen #twitter au #chirp au

[lowkeyrobin]

Hello I was wondering if you’d be able to write a Ranboo x Gender neutral reader, and they both just got into a heated argument that left them both crying (only if you’re comfortable with writing something like this, I’d not I completely understand, also thank you for your concern, I really appreciate it) :)

honestly struggled to find smthn to make an argument out of but I think I got something! oneshots are a little difficult for me bc I get burned out and I think the actions but can't find the right words LMAOOOO ; but this is totally find to request dw!! and of course, if you ever need to talk my messages are always open 🫶🫶🫶 ; also istg I have other ranboo headers they're just in my drafts bc I've only been working on reqs lately LMFAO

RANBOO ; burnout

summary ; youre both burned out and stressed, and take it out on each other

warnings ; language, fighting, reader is described/talked about as a writer, angry mischaracterization (it makes sense in context trust me)

word count ; 1.4k

masterlist

Both you and Ranboo had been working your asses off recently.

They had themselves so tied down to content creation that it was becoming a personal prison cell. It was like everything he did was only to appease his fans, and he didn't know how to just calm down and slow things down for his well being. From the constant, long streams to the talks with merch and production teams, it never ended. Plus, the infinite cycle of scrolling online to see all the hate they received, it was becoming too much.

You, on the other hand, constantly kept working and working through the lack of motivation and burnout with no breaks. No matter how much people reassured you that you could take a break and you didn't have to stick to a schedule, it didn't do anything. You were determined to fill out each and every request even if you barely had any idea what you were doing, you'd stay up late trying to block out what to write and how to put it into words to appease your followers. Three times a day, seven days a week, every day of the month, about 2000 posts a year, if you kept that up.

You were dedicated to writing, you loved it, and you loved that you were able to turn something you loved into a job considering "real" jobs didn't work out for you. You had streaming, but you only did that if you were writing or needed ideas or help every once in a while and wanted to share any progress and whatnot. Your eyes tended to be bloodshot on the regular, being pulled down by saggy, dark eyebags.

You trudge into the kitchen, taking a cold bowl of mac and cheese and some water back to your office with you. Ranboo glares at you from the couch, holding his phone to his ear as he talks to some big guy with money, most likely. He doesn't say anything, but you notice the look on his face, his eyes glaring daggers into you as you walk away.

You sit back down at your chair, not even touching your food. You stare at the screen, your eyes slightly protected by the dark mode you'd reinforced on the website. Your mind was blank, empty, vacant, muddled. There were no thoughts behind your glazed eyes.

Your head pounded in pain, caused by all the blue light absorption you'd been taking in recently. God, Ran hated that. How you'd fucking complain of a headache and only do everything to worsen it. It pissed him off. It made him want to yell at you to just shut up about it, considering you didn't want to do anything to help yourself.

You type away at the keyboard once more, every button press causing a little click or clack to immerse from it. The keys light up a particular shade of white, a smooth wave like pattern glazing across it once more. You stop again, unable to finish the sentence once more.

You groan and lean back in your seat, feeling the utter disgust around you. You oh so desperately needed to sit in the shower and cry, considering your stress and pain, but you couldn't. You needed to make these people happy, you owed them. You owed them for giving you a stable job and a roof over your head, the least you could do was have their requests out within a few days.

You sit and ponder about your partner. You were sure there was no love left anymore. Both of you were too financially dependent on one another to up and leave, so it had to work for now.

Ranboo, now not on the phone, nearly slams the door of your office open, smelling the ice cold pasta you hadn't even touched a few feet away. He's quick to raise his voice with a stern tone, pissed off at you once again.

"Dude, I told you dinner was ready an hour ago, what the fuck? And then you just bring it in here and don't even touch it just to stare at the damn screen some more? Are you fucking kidding?"

You roll your eyes, not wanting to deal with this again. "Fuck's it matter? This is my job, Ranboo"

"Your job isn't to please everyone who acts nice to you. Your job is to write quality content and not complain about burning yourself out or headaches that you could easily solve by touching grass! Go outside, this isn't even a job. You don't do anything other than write some stupid fantasy all day and feed into people's delusions, Y/n!" He quickly rants, scoffing at the end.

"Holy shit, you're one to talk! Meh meh, meh, I'm so miserable, and I do all these long streams for my fans, and I treat my partner like shit because I never spend time with them and enable their unhealthy behaviors! I take out my anger on them because I'm a lonely asshole." You quickly spit back, standing up from your chair.

They scoff, stepping towards you a bit, "You're so pathetic, I never want to hear you come to me with your problems again. You're dependent on me. You barely get any money off of that, let alone any to pay rent or buy your own groceries. Get into the real world where talking to fancy businessmen and actually working for your money is all you do! Walk in my shoes for one day!"

You roll your eyes again and scoff, "You don't think this is an actual job? I could say the same to you! You play video games all fucking day and beg for Twitch subs! Just because you have a fancy merch line and have some stupid show you're working on doesn't make you all high and mighty and more important than anyone else!"

"It does, actually, you have no room to complain! If you need a break, you can go take it. My schedule is busy every hour of the day, I have no time to do shit! You're an overbearing, selfish asshole!"

Now that got the waterworks going, that's what got you beyond the point of just petty arguing to genuinely fighting. You have no room to complain, yet you spend all day just trying to make people happy and not hate you, to just pump content out and pretend like you're okay. You bottle up your emotions so he won't have to worry about you, yet you're overbearing and selfish.

"You are such a fucking asshole! Everything needs to be about you, doesn't it? Every single fucking thing in the world, huh? Fine, screw you" You turn to grab the bowl of food, and quickly, out of sheer anger, throw it at him, shattering the ceramic bowl. "I hope I never see you again, go fuck yourself. You don't deserve shit of what you have, your platform, your friends, your money, anything. I hope your whole online empire comes crumbling down and you're left with nothing"

You snatch up your phone, wallet, and keys, quickly stomping past him as tears drip down your cheeks. He stands there, appalled as tears well in his glassy eyes. He tries to chase you outside once he realizes you're serious, but you'd already slammed the door so hard it might as well have fallen off the hinges. He wipes his eyes, cheeks a light red due to the sheer amount of anger he felt in the moment. He was soaked in cold mac and cheese, ruining his white hoodie.

Once the adrenaline wasn't coursing through his veins anymore, he sits himself on the kitchen floor, the cold tile against his hands being used as a grounding technique. Some ceramic dust lays on his shoes, some liquid cheese being smeared against his hoodie as he tries to use a towel to wipe the access off.

Fuck, what did he just do?

He sits in silence, rethinking the situation as tears slowly stream down his face.

He could only hope that you were safe on that bus to nowhere. That bus you used to just go anywhere but home, just to escape the horrible life you lived inside that house. The house that bound you to its walls so you couldn't escape.

You couldn't escape the pain of your popular online presence or the pain of being trapped in that house any longer. Finally, it broke, the enchantment that kept you sealed inside.

Someone had to leave, and it looked like it was going to be you this time around.

#lowkeyrobin #mcyt x reader #mcyt preferences #mcyt oneshot #tommyinnit x reader #ranboo x reader #tubbo x reader #ranboo oneshot #ranboo imagine #gn reader #gender neutral reader #they/them reader

[zoe-oneesama]

Congratulations on finishing Reverser!! Super excited to see Marc’s full header outfit when that episode comes out! Next on the docket is Party Crasher, right? Whenever you have the time after your fresh rewatch of the episode, what are your thoughts and opinions on Wayhem, his akuma, and Party Crasher’s plot?

Ughhh, I watched it once quickly because this was definitely a Temporary Hero episode (I watched all the episodes I knew for sure would have a temp hero in since I needed to figure out what power would be needed) and it was hard to watch. I just kept getting mad with the civilian plot:

Wayhem is...fine? In THIS episode. It's kind of easy to completely separate him from "Gorizilla" so he's fine in this episode alone (I can't personally get over how obsessive he was in "Gorizilla" but at least he apologized for it? I guess?? Well Adrien seems cool with it at least.)

This is one of the only episodes where the "misunderstanding" that creates the akuma actually feels like a genuine misunderstanding and miscommunication rather than one person jumping to crazy conclusions and then getting mad when they're incorrect (*cough* "Lady Wifi" *cough* "Reverser" *cough*)

His akuma design is fun and camp so I actually like it, but I'm very confused by his powers since he seems to have...many? Like, okay, he can "predict" his opponents movements and envisions it like a dance floor... AND he absorbs people and things into his disco hands by touching them... buuut he can ALSO zap you from a distance... but then he ALSO makes a helicopter?? Also he can apparently heal himself after King Monkey busts everyone out of his disco prison...

I was with you for those first three things but you lost me at HELICOPTER.

And then there's...the plot.

I had to watch this episode in halves because I was getting to mad. At Nino. It's just so weird that this show had one of it's main characters make a universally disliked decision: Breaking a Promise. Isn't that, like, Kid's Show 101, to teach you that you're supposed to keep your word? So why'd they make Nino not only go back on his promise to help Mylene and the girls, but rope other people into it too?? And then for Tikki to be shocked and horrified that Marinette lied and frame that as being wrong when Nino and the boys did the exact same thing! So it's only a big deal when Marinette does it, got it. And I HATE that the conclusion was "well it could've gone smoother but iT wAs fOr AdRiEn sO iT'S cOoL!"

Neither of you, none of you, should've broken your promise. THAT should've been the conclusion. All of them should've spent the end of the episode apologizing to the tree planting group and getting to work.

It's just a weird episode for so many reasons. For one, the girls either somehow didn't catch on to the obvious that aLL the boys were playing hooky on them or they just didn't care, except for Marinette. So even though we're supposed to think it's wrong of Marinette to dip out to prove the boys are lying, it doesn't seem to matter cuz clearly the girls aren't bothered! Breaking promises? Going back on your word? Leaving your friends hanging? Apparently it's not THAT big a deal, so who CARES if the boys or Marinette flake on purpose?

For another thing, I get that we have a limit on teenage boy models to fill this house party with, but I don't think the solution was EVERY GROWN ADULT MAN IN PARIS to crash a MIDDLE SCHOOLER'S HOUSE PARTY!

Roger comes for a "noise complaint" and stays for the foosball?

Astruc and Vincent/Guiseppe/Photographer dude come for a casting call for Adrien at his house? (Look, if the director and his casting photographer are coming to your house, skip the formalities, you already have the gig, let's be real, and also they came over when Adrien's guardians are out of the house, that's creepy).

And then Jagged Stone jumps through his window from his helicopter because he heard the music they were using???

None of these don't feel weird and kinda creepy, like you WEREN'T INVITED, say your piece and GET OUT! Or better yet DON'T COME! No, Nino, stop thinking this is cool, this is FREAKING WEIRD, stop teaching Adrien weird shit!

Put that into perspective for sec: Nino thinks Adrien would have a better time at a Dude's Only House Party (boring) with Randos then just letting his Girl Friends join them.

If they wanted this Boys vs Girls thing, they should've gone full in. Have the girls see through the excuses and let them be pissed. Let them want to confront the boys, but oh? Nino told the Bodyguard to specifically not let them in? What's that, music? Are they...they're having a PARTY?! They're having a PARTY instead of helping them PLANT TREES like they PROMISED AND they're DELIBERATELY EXCLUDING THE GIRLS FROM SAID PARTY?!

Oh this means War.

So make the shenangians about the girls trying and failing (or succeeding?) into getting into the party in increasingly ridiculous ways or something. Like, oh, THEY could call the police on the noise complaint and then get dumbstruck when Roger joins the party. Or have them notice that Adrien's fencing instructor and the Director are getting in so they think the party will be stopped by Adren's obligations and then getting ticked when that doesn't slow them down.

Dress up as Pizza Guys, Delivery Men, Classmates, ANYTHING to get in! Have them notice Wayhem and try to drag him in but because they've tried so many times THAT'S why the bodyguard doesn't let him in - because he's with the girls.

Just... you wanted this dumb Boys Club vs Girls thing, so commit you cowards, give me a WAR! I don't care for those kinds of dumb gender war episodes but at least don't half ass it if you're gonna do it!

As for the Boy Heroes Team thing, it feels wrong to give them a hero episode of their own when THEY are the bad guys in the Civilian Plot and to not have an equivalent Girl Heroes Team episode (instead they get a Girl AKUMAS episode, twice!). The idea is cool and I would've liked to see more squad episodes that weren't framed as "I-need-five-heroes-to-do-what-just-Chat-Noir-can-do" and were actually about teamwork, but our options are the Heroes Day Season 2 finale where they fell apart, or "Party Crasher".

Sigh.

At the end of day, the boys just look like jerks for ditching the girls, but the girls don't even care, so there's not even enough drive for Marinette to involve herself, and then the Marinette Sneaking In shenanigans aren't even fun, the randos showing up aren't fun (except Mr. Banana, he can stay), I guess Marinette and Nino (and the boys) punishment is cleaning up Adrien's room...? Like, good for Adrien that he doesn't get any backlash from his dad because it'd be wildly unfair for him to be the person who gets punished in this scenario, but nobody learned any lessons. It's just...

What was the point of all this?

At least I didn't have any complaints about Adrien for the most part.

#I probably won't use those ideas for SL because I honestly have too many different ways I could change the episode #it's actually hard for me to nail one direction down #ml salt #nino salt #writing salt #party crasher salt #marinette salt #an essay by zoe

[danmainacc]

FIRST SIGHT

Raph saves you from Meats Sweats and, quite literally, falls head over heels. ( header credit to qoeww ) 

Character: Raphael

Writing - type: One-shot

Warnings: fluff, kidnapping, a little bit of angst ( you know I can’t write without it ), meat sweats wants to eat you

Author’s note: I’M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG 😭 I really wanted to wait until tumblr released me from my shadow-ban prison, but alas, I am still here ( 10 support tickets later ). I hope you guys enjoy !! Lemme know what you think. And know that I see every comment, even if I can no longer reply 🥹

…

A soft sigh left your lips as you looked out into the sky, the moon’s pale face standing out in front of the navy blue night.

This area of New York was an anomaly. Despite it’s close proximity to NYC, it almost never saw the effects of light pollution, the stars just as visible as they would be in the country.

You found this place not too long ago, about maybe a year or so. You had first moved and you decided to explore, to take your mind off the sudden change.

One thing led to another, and now you’re here more than your own house.

Another sigh managed to slip as you rested your cheek in your palm, the moon’s expression almost mirroring your sadness.

‘This is so stupid.’

You scoffed at yourself, scolding the growing lump in your throat into nonexistence.

‘A year in this stupid town, and not a single friend.’

Some could say that when you tried to make friends, you came off...strong...and loud.

But that’s just how you were raised. That’s how you’ve been your whole life.

Back home...real home...you were a hit.

Your friends liked you, your family liked you, hell, even the people that didn’t like you, liked you.

You were funny, sarcastic, a little clumsy, out-going, happy.

But shit happens.

Jobs run thin, and next thing you know you’re on a one-way flight to the other side of the country, no friends in sight.

You shook yourself out of it as you felt something wet rolling down the apples of your cheeks, the feeling almost foreign.

You placed a hand on your face, pulling it back to see that, yes, you were crying.

You scoffed, shaking your head in disappointment as your cheek returned to your palm, the tears now flowing.

‘Pathetic.’

Sighing, you took out your phone, checking the time to see that it was way past your curfew.

Yet not a single text from Dad.

You groaned, standing up from your spot on the ledge and hooking your ankles onto the nearest gutter, clinging onto it and sliding down like a fire-pole.

When you landed, you came face to face with your usual alley.

Now, you knew it wasn’t the best idea to take a dark alley home every night, but it cut the normal walking time in half. And if you walked fast enough, you could surely be home before anyone noticed you were there.

Letting go of the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, you started on your way, keeping your pace at a power walk.

Though for some reason, the alley seemed different. There was a eerie, almost non-human, feeling to it.

The lights were flickering more than usual, the air was filled with the smell of food, and at times, you could’ve sworn you heard a pig snort.

‘You’re goin’ crazy.’

Just then, you noticed a large shadow that sat not too far in front of you.

It was in the shape of a food truck.

A food truck that wasn’t there two seconds go.

‘Nope.’

Now breaking into a sprint, you tried your best to get past it, seeing as the vehicle was blocking the only exit.

But just as you made it past, something grabbed you by your backpack, harshly pulling you back and holding you up.

“Well, well, well. What ‘ave we got here?” the person creepily smirked, licking his lips.

You couldn’t make out his face in the darkness, but you could make was his overwhelming scent of dirty pig.

“A teenage girl. Nice and plump in all the right places.”

He creepily poked at your hips and stomach, the touch making you retreat into yourself, trying to get away.

“I’d say you’d make a good chili.”

Your heart came to a screeching halt at those words, all the air in the world seeming to disappear.

‘Did he just say...I’d make a good chili?!’

And just as you were about to scream, the man hit you upside the head with the butt of his meat tenderizer.

...

You woke up to see that you were tied up in butcher’s twine, resting on top of a surprisingly large cutting board.

Suddenly, you remembered the words of the man just before you blacked out.

‘I gotta get out of here!’

Lifting your head, you saw him standing next to a very large pot, bringing what looked to be stock to a nice boil.

And not only that, but he was apparently a pig-man-hybrid-thing.

‘Don’t even wanna know.’

Hearing something clink behind you, you realized that the pig man left his knife on the cutting board with you.

You grabbed it, shaving down your ropes until you came loose, and then tucking it into your bomber jacket for save keeping.

Quietly standing up, you tiptoed off the cutting board, taking a step onto the food truck floor, only for it to make the loudest creak the world has ever heard.

“For fuck’s sake!” you groaned, making a run for the door.

“Oh, no you don’t!” the pig man shouted, tossing a butcher’s knife at you.

It landed in the door and stopped you from reaching for the handle, letting him grab you and hoist you up once more, as if you were nothing.

“Whetha you lioke it or not, I’m turning you into chili. And there ain’t nobody around to save ya.”

The realization of your situation finally sunk in.

You were trapped in this pig-man’s food truck of horrors, and were about to be made into a chili for him to eat.

No one knew where you were, or where to find you. And there would probably be no evidence left, since you’d be halfway through his digestive track before morning.

You let out a blood-curdling wail of anguish, shocking the hybrid man.

The wail slowly turned into a sob, no doubt getting the attention of those in nearby apartments.

“Quiet, you!” he shouted, punching you in the face and letting you drop to the floor.

Your head throbbed so hard it was practically audible, and you wanted nothing more in this moment than to be absorbed into the ground and dropped into the safety of your room.

“Now, I gotta get to chopping before this stock boils over,” the pig man smirked.

And just as he was about to grab you, a large, green figure burst through the wall of the truck, knocking the pig-man out the door.

“You stay away from her--.” Raph’s breath hitched as his eyes landed on you, one of the prettiest girls he’s ever seen, sitting on the ground.

His heart banged aggressively against his plastron, and despite his cold blood, he felt warm all over.

He couldn’t place his finger on what it was about you. Your hair, your soft eyes, *cough* *cough* your shorts.

But what he knew for sure was that he had to save you.

Yet that rendered him unable to save himself when she tripped over his own feet.

He fell flat on his face, shaking the foundation of the truck.

Now for you....to say you were shocked, would be an understatement.

You just found out today that pig-hybrids and turtle men exist, and one was laying on the floor not too far in front of you.

But he saved you from the creepy guy, so the least you could do was check to see if he was alright.

“Hey,” you chimed, slowly approaching and giving him a soft poke on his shoulder.

“Are you okay? That was a really hard fall.”

Little did you know that the turtle next to you was as giddy as a schoolboy.

You touched him! And not only that, but you talked to him. 

Your voice was so soft and silky, yet firm it its tone. God, he could listen to you talk for hours.

“Hello?” you asked, wondering if he fell unconscious.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, jumping back up and startling you. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I’m a little clumsy.”

He warmly smiled, making something in your stomach flutter.

“It’s alright,” you assured, standing up.

“This might sound cheesy, but I’m kinda here to save you,” he sheepishly explained, rubbing the back of his neck.

You smiled back at him, a small chuckle escaping your lips. “That’s great, cause I am in desperate need of saving.”

He chuckled as well, taking a step closer to you and holding out his arms. 

“May I?” he asked politely.

You nodded, him scooping you up in his arms and jumping out the hole he first came in through.

And now that you had time to truly rest, you took the oppurtunity, resting your head on the man’s plastron as you fought to keep your eyes open.

You don’t know why you were trusting this man so easily. There was something about him that just made him so comforting.

As your eyes fluttered shut, Raph had to use all his self-control to keep himself from swooning.

Even asleep, with hair disheveled and a slightly bloody nose, you still looked goregous. 

And the fact that he was able to be so infatuated, so enamored with you from first glance, was startng to scare him.

But scary or no, he had to face the facts:

He fell for you. And hard.

...

#rottmnt #rottmnt raphael #rottmnt raph #rottmnt raph x reader

[your-eternal-nightmare]

Hello :) I'm Dream, the Admin of Dream SMP- which, I'll admit, has fallen into a bit of chaos as of late because I may have been locked in prison for a bit after the entire server decided to turn on me. But it's fine, because now I'm out and I'm able to work on regaining control again and fixing everything :) I've also been busy studying the secrets of life, death, and immortality, so that should be pretty helpful in doing that :)

And of course, you've likely heard some... things about me from certain members of the server, but I can assure you that anything you may have heard has been greatly exaggerated :) Some people just can't stand the idea of having rules to follow, you know? :)

Anyway, welcome, and I'm willing to answer any questions you may have :)

(OOC info under the cut)

This is a c!Dream RP blog, header by SAD-ist and icon made by me, and here is my main: @moondragon618 <3

This is set post prison break and in the same universe as my c!Tommy RP blog @haver-of-wives, and I'll be having them interact a lot so again I'll try to tag for triggering content :)

(also I Do Not support cc!drm in any way and c!Dream apologists you might want to avoid this one)

#dream smp #dsmp #c!dream #rp blog #/rp

[urasawayaoi]

who r the gay old men in your header ?

otcho and kakuta from 20th century boys! i dont think kakuta has a canon age but they meet in prison and he helps otcho break out and follows him around like a soggy puppy.. i was obsessed with them last summer i have so many sketches lol

#anon #ask #theyre so cute...otcho deserves to settle down and kakuta deserves an older boyfriend bc hes an artist and i know we have the same taste

[witchyficbindery]

Lain Low

"Mirkwood has fallen, and the Necromancer (they say) has found something he once lost, and orcs and darker things are crawling..."

The world labors under the growing might of Sauron, and as Erebor struggles to survive, Thorin is caught between his nephews' machinations, his political alliances and rivalries, and his new prisoner-- the fallen Elvenking Thranduil, whose beauty has been the subject of Thorin's twisted obsession for a century. Will Thorin use his new plaything as a lever against his opponents, or will he break Thranduil's will and despoil him in vengeance? And is there perhaps a third way, a path back toward the light in this broken and befouled Middle-Earth?

98,838 words /294 pages

Fic by (pherede) @nolikereally

Cover art & design by me

Today I’m sharing a bind of a story I fully did not expect to love. I buddy read this with @hana-bob and we both thought it would be a “so bad it’s good” situation. The tags are bonkers and DARK. Imagine my surprise a few chapters in when I found myself loving it!

Lain Low by pherede is a story about Thranduil being captured and taken Under the Mountain. It has big Captive Prince vibes, honestly! The author’s writing style is incredible, even if she totally ignores the timelines. I definitely recommend checking the tags for triggers because there are a lot of them, but this is a story worth checking out!

The typeset was a lot of fun to work on! I used runes for the chapter headers (numbers corresponding to the letters of the alphabet). Please dont come at me. I know this probably isn’t an accepted numbering system, but I really wanted to find a way to make it work for this book! I wrapped the case with metallic book cloth in mink and an image of Thranduil’s crown is on the front. I created the art for the dust jacket using AI! I’m so happy with how it came out!

#fanbinding #fanfic binding #fanfic book binding #fanfiction binding #thorinduil #thorin x thranduil #thranduil x thorin #the hobbit fanfic #lain low by pherede

[deathfavor]

@requiemofrebellion said: 😊 (kisaki to kazutora - listen manipulation maybe??? owo lol )

send 😊 for my muse's reaction to yours holding their face for some reason BONUS: ADD DETAILS & WHY

" Got rid of that pain in the ass like you asked, Kisaki. " Kazutora announces with a pleased grin, a tiger sated from the hunt. It hadn't been that hard, but then again, Kazutora had always a resourceful fighter rather than honor bound. Prison had only made his claws sharper, infamy earned in the ranks and which had spread to the underground as prisoners were released. The world most people lived in forgot him again, but the darkness never had. That's how he'd found himself back by Hanma, by Kisaki, by Toman. " Made sure that fucker suffered too."

Kazutora stands in the luxury of Kisaki's office, one hand resting against a leather clad hip and his earring ringing when he tilts his head with an easy smile. The sound of death for Toman's enemies. Or more accurately, for Kisaki's enemies. Gold eyes focus on the boss in front of him, staying still as Kisaki approaches him. What he doesn't expect is to feel Kisaki reach up and hold his face. Anyone other than him and two or three others and Kazutora would have broken every bone in their hands and arms for daring to. And that was if the tiger was playing nice.

Surprise flares bright in gold eyes, but then he relaxes and laps up the crooned praise. ( If there is one thing that has never changed about Kazutora is that he feasts on praise and encouragement with gluttonous appetite. ) He is passive and calm under his touch, enjoying the gentle touch and warmth that accompanies it with closed eyes. Kisaki doesn't fear him. Kisaki has given him a place in a world that wants nothing to do with him. So the tiger listens, lured and kept with much desired praise.

" Kisaki? " His voice breaks the quiet, tinged with curiosity. " Everything okay? " He did good like he always did for Kisaki, but he hadn't expected this sort of outcome to be waiting for him when he got back. Not that he's complaining, he thrives under attention and physical attention paired with praise has always snared the tiger. Gold eyes flick over the other, looking for indication that something might be bothering Kisaki or his next order. Sure, Mikey technically existed somewhere in Toman, but for all intents and purposes, Kisaki was its header. Even if he wasn't, Kazutora would choose Kisaki over Mikey regardless.

#requiemofrebellion #i had to nyoom to answer this #brain was brrr so excited to write a bit for this verse #᛭ — [IC] wounded tiger caught in mania's pit [KAZUTORA HANEMIYA] #᛭ — [VERSE: BAD END 3] lick violence off your fangs and smile [KAZUTORA HANEMIYA]

[bluemoonstonesy]

harry maguire could tattoo a prison map on himself but michael schofield could never score an own goal header in an international tournament 😔

i’ve never seen prison break but real 🙏

[jaws-and-canines]

The Fool

A Verschlimmbessern Story. Contains non detailed mentions of lady whump, very brief misogynistic language, blackmail and smoking plus the usual canon-typical mentions of violence.

---

Fennec’s office, sandbags piled up against the windows and doors, is usually only used for meetings. Meetings which are normally conducted from an itinerary, and meetings which never run over.

Now, however, at the crossover between last night and the early hours of the next morning, there's no meeting. Just piles and piles of cassette tapes, half-organised.

Fennec rubs his forehead with a shaky hand, and slots the next one into the battered player.

He's seen this prisoner in particular before. In the infirmary, black and blue and barely conscious. Fride assured him that she had simply been fighting amongst her unit. Just like he assured Fennec that the deaths in the camp were natural, pneumonia, no foul play involved. Of course, he doubts that now, but there’s no way to prove it beyond digging the corpses up.

The supposed fighting doesn't look much like fighting. Just like a beating. Overhand with a wet towel. And then the kicks come in. From Atticus, of course. The man is at this point destined to either be shot or hospitalised, the amount of violence he seems to inflict without remorse.

He starts the tape again. Blinks, but says nothing. There's nothing to say. He just silently adds the tally to the sheet next to him. It's a charge sheet, for Raines and his associates. Next to it, one for Fride, one for Rasch. By the time he's finished, it'll be half his staff written up for either a slap on the wrist for complacency, or the much more serious charges of innumerable violations of the laws of war.

And then, of course, he thinks, stopping to push his glasses up his nose, there's him as well. But he'd be a fool to do anything about himself. The orders from that will come from Berlin, probably with a whole new set of men to replace his, and a detachment of military police to clean up the mess that he's made.

There's a knock on the ajar door. Fennec thinks about jumping to hide the papers but knows there's no point. He beckons Fride in, pausing the tape.

"Ah. I thought you wouldn't- I thought…" Fride trails off.

Fennec sighs. “Speak freely, come on. Don't waste everyone's time trying to talk around the issue.”

Fride stands there, staring at Fennec. Fennec stares back. A pigeon swoops by the window, cooing, and niether of them break eye contact.

"We don't need to be doing that," says Fride eventually, pushing the papers on the table away from Fennec.

"I think we do," says Fennec, and stands up, squaring up to his second-in-command, arms crossed. Fride is a tall man, taller than Fennec, but lanky. "You know full well that we need to be doing this." He gestures to the table, to all the charge sheets he’s laid out there. “This will go to Berlin, and then I will hand myself in too. I have everyone who is complicit to every degree and I include myself in this, because I can’t just stand by and-”

“I’m telling you, this isn’t something you want to do, sir," says Fride. Fride gestures to the papers on the table. "You turn these men in, that's half the unit out of your control. You lose control of the unit and they'll tear you apart, and I mean that literally. There's no winning with the way you're going. It's foolish."

Fennec doesn’t weigh it up, something uncharacteristically decisive. Almost angry, he snaps at Fride. "Then I am a fool. I refuse to be a bystander any longer." He picks up a packet of cigarettes from his desk and opens the carton, sticking one in his mouth and feeling for his lighter in his uniform pockets.

Fride just shrugs sadly, and from the folder under his arm, produces two pieces of paper. "I was hoping these wouldn't see the light of day but you are not listening to me." Two to-the-book typed up orders, on the official paper with the blue-and-grey gothic cross of the Heer in the header. Fennec skims over the contents of the orders, but the words obtain intelligence by any means possible, and ignore all current regulations regarding treatment stick out to him. In fact, they stick in his throat, and he feels sick. With a shaky hand he takes the cigarette out of his mouth and rests it on the top of the packet.

They are both signed, in black ink, with his signature, and below that, his typed out name. Major Anton Ellmenreich Von Fennec. His signature, his name, on something so manifestly illegal.

He furrows his brow. Swallows sharply. "This is… falsified. It cannot be true. Absolutely not." He looks at his signature. Touches it. Tries to smudge it off. "Forgery. Someone has forged this, who did it? Who? Fride, tell me!" he cries, and then pulls it back to calm. "Fride, I order you to tell me who put my signature on these." He knows, really, he does know. He hopes it isn't true, but he knows.

"You did,'' says Fride quietly.

Fennec feels himself crumpling the paper in his hands, remembering Fride interrupting him whilst he was in a meeting on a particularly hectic day and asking him to pick an approach, sign the papers Fride had typed out for him. "You said hardline, not inhumane! Not torture, Fride. You've set me up. If this goes to trial they'll… oh, god."

The Bundeswehr doesn't take kindly to violations of international law, and drills the precepts into recruits from day one. In the European Legion, the German soldiers are renowned for their understanding of international law. Fennec passed that module of his training, and he knows exactly what his future prospects look like if the papers in his hands end up being shown to a panel or jury. He moves to tear them in two with a flourish, but finds that his hands won't move.

"What's done is done." Fride gently takes the papers off Fennec and sets them down on the table. "I'm just asking you to overlook this. For now."

Fennec straightens up from leaning on the desk, and glares at Fride. "This is blackmail." He chews his lip, still absent-mindedly looking for his lighter in his pockets. "Blackmailed to overlook the torture of prisoners of war. By my own second-in-command. Unbelievable." He shakes his head. "My hands are tied. I don't forgive you for this."

"You don't have to-"

Fennec interrupts calmly. "Get out of my office, please."

Fride nods, and picks up the ream of charge sheets and tucks them into his folder. He hovers a bony hand over the signed orders, and with a hesitation, takes them as well. "You've been sensible, Anton."

Fennec tuts, indignant. "Don't "Anton" me, it's Major Fennec. Get out of my office, please and thank you," he says, and crumples into his chair, defeated. He opens his desk drawer, sifting through, looking for his lighter.

"Upper left sleeve," says Fride, gesturing to his pocket, just under the corps patch. Fennec scowls and waves Fride out. He watches Fride leave and then checks in the pocket on his sleeve.

His lighter is there, just as Fride said it would be. He slaps it onto his desk in frustration. "Du Hurensohn," he says, as if Fride is there to hear it.

Picking up the abandoned cigarette, he lights it with a sigh of desperation. He takes a drag and stares out of the window, looking to the sky. It's too bright and it hurts his eyes.

#whump #whump writing #original writing #whumpblr #anton fennec

[winterandwords]

📖 [short fiction] SPARK

📝 notes

Audience age Adult Genre Horror Length 951 words

As a convicted child-killer awaits execution, his sister is pulled by unbreakable family ties away from her new life and back to the truth she couldn’t outrun.

☕ If you enjoy this story and would like to buy me a coffee, you can do that here

📸 Header image, edited and displayed under license, by Oscar Ivan Esquivel Arteaga on Unsplash

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

And in the end, it all came back to energy. Newtons, lumens, decibels, volts… mostly volts. I started to see units of measurement everywhere, numbers to define how something could be experienced, seen, heard, felt, pressed, burned, used, destroyed. It started when I read that 2,450 volts of electricity would be passed through my brother’s body and energy began to mean something different to me.

These 2,450 volts would cook his brain and his skin, make his eyes bulge and melt, and his bowels release. They would cause him to jolt so violently against the leather straps that his bones would break. They would stop his heart. They might comfort the families of his victims, watching from behind glass in a room that was at once too close and too far away. And they might bring nightmares fuelled by cognitive dissonance to the people who unlocked the door, led him down the corridor, tightened the straps, pulled the lever. I had no idea what they would do to me.

I left a long time ago, and I never expected to be back. There was nothing here for me then and in just a few hours there will be nothing here for me again. I only came because he asked me to. He wanted someone on the other side of the window in that room who had no personal attachment to the boys whose deaths had finally brought him to meet his own.

Any real connection I had to him was severed years before when I bought a one-way ticket and didn’t look back, but he had no-one else. I wanted to say no to him. I wanted to carry on with my life as though my brother hadn’t murdered children in a country where I no longer lived. I wanted to maintain my distance with my new name from a brief marriage and oceans between us. But still, I said yes, and I went.

We communicated by letter at first. He told me he had come to understand that what he did was wrong, but he couldn’t help it. He knew each of the boys he had killed was someone’s son, someone’s brother, someone’s friend, someone, but his need outweighed that. He said he had always felt those urges, that they started when he was younger than his boys, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he progressed from doing what he did to animals to doing what he did to people.

He asked if I had been scared of him when we were children, if I had seen it coming. If I had known what he was. It took me a week to reply to that letter because I didn’t know what to say other than yes. The truth is, I had always known. When I heard he had been arrested, I spent a year in therapy I couldn’t afford, telling a well-meaning stranger that I should have said something, should have done something, to stop this. The other truth is I know there is nothing I could have done. I couldn’t have changed something so entrenched in the core of his being. I couldn’t have turned him into someone else.

Where we grew up, hunting was a part of life. It was a running joke that he was a terrible shot, but he wasn’t that terrible. He never missed entirely. He only ever missed enough that he had to finish the job with a knife. The loudest alarm bell was not rung by the killing of animals he hunted to eat, but by the killing of animals he hunted simply because he could. Sometimes he started to cut them up before they were dead, although I think I was the only one who knew that. I found him elbow-deep in the still-twitching body of a stray dog in the back field one day after school and all he said was, “Don’t tell anyone.” So I didn’t. And a year later, I left.

I had seen pictures of him on television and in newspapers, but during my first visit to the prison, I was surprised that he was no longer the fifteen-year-old boy he had been when I last saw him in person. His eyes were the same though—dark, cold, empty apart from the occasional flare of something like anchorless resentment—and I felt a stab of ice in my heart when he looked at me.

He said he didn’t think I would come, but he was glad I did, that he understood why I hadn’t stayed before, why I hadn’t come home when both our parents were killed in the house fire he escaped from unscathed at the age of eighteen. Of course, there had been no definite proof of arson, but I knew and he knew that I knew.

When the day came, he was given the opportunity to speak his final words before they brought down the hood to cover his face. He said only, “I want to thank my sister for being here today and for leaving before. Her presence was the only thing that held me back and when she left, I was finally free to do what I needed to do.” Then he smiled with a gentle, honest acceptance.

2,450 volts.

The thundering beat of my heart as I walked towards my rental car. The slam of the door shutting. The spark of the ignition as I turned the key. The roar of the engine as I drove away. The gathering speed as I headed towards the airport. The glow from the streetlights. The heat of my tears. And in the end, it all came back to energy.

#my writing #short fiction #short story #short stories #writeblr #writeblr community #writers #writers community #original fiction #original writers #tumblr writers #writers on tumblr #writers of tumblr #am writing #writing community #horror