#his hair is all like wispy and like dark smoke basically

[doctorsiren]

Do you have designs for the skyes or the blackquills in your spooky au? I love all your designs <3 They are all wonderful <3

I’ve gotten 3 separate asks that all ask about both Simon and Ema in the SAME ASK and I had to call my brother up to ask if the Blackquills and the Skyes had any significance to each other because I’m still on AA5 and he’s already beaten 1-6 and he said no but I think it’s crazy that all 3 asks that ask about Simon also ask about Ema??

Anyways I said Ema was a normal human and someone else said she could be like a doctor frankenstein type and YES I AGREE but I will answer that ask later bc hand tired

OKAY I DON’T KNOW ABOUT BLACKQUILL’S PAST YET BC I’M ON THE SECOND TO LAST CASE OF THE 5TH GAME (i have suspicions about what happened but idk yet)

But whatever event made him become all emo is the same event that had him become a reaper (AND I DON’T KNOW WHAT IT IS YET PLEASE DON’T TELL ME 😭😭😭💀)

#doctorsiren #ace attorney #ace attorney au #simon blackquill #silly little monster au #art #digital art #my art #fanart #procreate #his hair is all like wispy and like dark smoke basically #I’ll make better refs for everyone at some point when I’m not tired 💥

[bionicle-ramblings]

More humanized Bionicle stuff because I left a few things out of my first post and I have a few thoughts to share

I went into detail about how Vakama looks, i.e. hair and eye color, but I never did that with the other Toa:

Nokama is the second tallest after Nuju. She doesn't wear heels, it's all natural. Her long is dark, enough for it to shine blue in the sun. Also following her OG set design, her eyes are an orange-amber color.

Since Matau can't exactly grow his hair out, he dyes it and his natural roots grew when he was given the Toa Stone by Lhikan. His hair is also a constant mess because he has helmet hair. People are surprised to see his red eyes, but Matau says it adds to his charm.

Onewa either has light brown hair or dark blond hair that he ties back in a ponytail. Has the most riveting blue eyes in the team and he uses that to his advantage so that he wins in a staring contest against Matau(because I firmly believe that he's bi and a disaster sometimes)

Nuju is the tallest. He knows it. Despite sometime spent in the sun, Nuju is a little pale. Actually, he's VERY pale. His hair is white as snow and his eyes are such a pale blue they might was well be white. He doesn't smile a lot and it shows because he doesn't have any smile lines on his face.

Whenua is the shortest in the group, but don't be fooled. He is still a tank, he is a walking Boulder. The man is nearly solid muscle. His hair is basically an undercut with the top being box braided and he has to untie the braids and retie them when he bathes or showers. He's got very green eyes like Vakama, but his are slightly more vibrant. And they're like a cat's in that they glow in the dark, which the others know from first-hand experience because they've either awoken to seeing Whenua's eyes only or they looked at Whenua at the right angle when it was dark.

With descriptions out of the way, time for shenanigans!

In an arm wrestling contest, for fun and games, Whenua, oddly enough, won against the other Toa. Matau and Onewa wanted a rematch, but Whenua, to pull their legs, told them not to hurt themselves and wait until later

Vakama and Whenua need to be reminded to go to bed because they're both used to staying up late

Nokama 100% does yoga. The others have tried it and Nuju, Whenua, and Vakama do partake in doing it. Onewa and Matau tried, but Matau cannot do it for long because he prefers more active activities. Onewa just doesn't have the best balance

Vakama and Whenua occasionally braid each other's hair, though really it's a "them" thing that developed because Whenua got just out of the bath and asked Vakama for help rebraiding his hair. As they were braiding, Vakama asked if the braids mean anything, like if each braid is a number of rahi or bit of information in the archives or if each braid is a year Whenua worked in the archives, but Whenua just admits he has them because it gives his hands something to do and he doesn't get any wispy hair in his face. When asked about his own braids, Vakama admitted they were from a friend and he held onto them for sentimental reasons. He totally expected to be picked on for it, but Whenua only told him he was lucky and, as a half joke, asked Vakama if he'll have more braids as he worked with the other Toa Metru. Vakama was indecisive, as that would mean growing more hair and braiding it, but he wouldn't object to it

When their boots get damaged, Onewa looks for new boots while Vakama just fixes his, and it shows because he has had to repleace the string of his boot, had to sew a hole shut, had to fix the sole, and put some new metal in the toe when the old metal gave

Vakama doesn't smoke, I don't imagine any of the Toa Metru smoking, but if Vakama did smoke, he'd essentially use his thumb as a lighter. If anyone's getting cheeky or smart with him, he'd flip them off as he lights a smoke. Well, anyone but Nokama, who would be on his back about stopping because he's not helping himself by doing it and his lungs/filters are already gross from breathing smoke and fumes all day, so why is he making it worse?

Matau is 100% someone who would walk up to one of the other Toa Metru and say, "Pay attention to me." Very cat-like behavior, but the guy wants love

Vakama doesn't fully remember getting his scar from the Vahki. The others asked what he did, but he legitimately has no idea

Something that's absolutely a thing between the two of them: Matau will lay right on top of Vakama or lay by him, what have you. It's a win-win thing for them both; Matau gets really warm, and Vakama gets a comfortable weight on him to calm him down

Because I have cats, how they'd do with a cat: Whenua would let it chill on his shoulders, Nokama would have a new best friend and the cat essentially becomes her animal companion, Matau is shape-shifting into another cat and playing with it, Onewa is the guy who didn't want the cat but falls in love anyway, Nuju is indifferent about it, and Vakama is very, "What do I do?" towards it because it honks at him whenever he's making masks to calm down and lays on him because he is a living furnace

This is just in general, but their eyes change color when their 'mask powers' are activated. Nokama's eyes glow blue, Vakama's glow red, Nuju's glow white, et cetera. Whenua's just more of a lead-y silver, but still

#bionicle #ramblings #toa metru #long post #vakama #nokama #nuju #whenua #onewa #matau #humanized bionicle #headcanon #smoking mention

[persephoneflowerpetals]

An Introduction to Hades’ and Persephone’s Kids

I can’t draw for the life of me, but I sure can write lol! So here’s my best descriptions of what I think Hades’ and Persephone’s kids would be like!

1st born - Zagreus, Prince of the Underworld - He basically looks just like his father but he’s got his mother’s eyes. He’s kind like his mother too, but gets most of his bold personality from his father. He is very confident and wants to be powerful like his father. He loves to watch his father work and enjoys learning from him. He also wants to rule by his side when he grows up.

Fun Facts:

He looks a lot like Hades when he was younger.

He has fangs, but not all of his teeth are sharp like his father’s.

He inherited his father’s fire powers.

Because Hades is still God of the Underworld and Lord of the Dead, Zagreus still has to check in with his father about certain things when doing his godly duties since Hades has higher authority. He’s basically Hades’ second in command.

Zagreus introduces himself as “Prince of the Underworld” similar to how his father introduces himself as “Lord of the Dead” to people.

He’s a little bit of a “head head”, but not as much as his father.

He can be pretty protective over his little sisters sometimes, though, he argues with Melinoe the most.

2nd born - Melinoe, Goddess of Ghosts and Propitiation - She has a good mixture of both her mother’s and her father’s facial features, but she definitely has her father’s eyes. Her skin is bright white and her hair is pitch black and is very wispy and “smoke-like”. She is considered the “weird kid” and is very interested in the dead souls of the Underworld. She’s also a fan of the macabre and finds strange and dark things to be very fascinating. She has quite an odd and eccentric personality which tends to freak other people out (including her own family on occasion).

Fun Facts:

Her family calls her “Mel” for short.

Melinoe rules over the mortal souls that don’t make it to the underworld, instead living their afterlives on earth.

She has the power to bring spirits from the underworld to earth (or as some call it: raise the dead).

She liked to dabble in alchemy just like her father.

Many mortals are scared of her not only because of her personality, but because she’s associated with ghosts.

Melinoe is neurodivergent and has autistic traits. If autism were diagnosed back in ancient Greece she’d most likely be on the autism spectrum.

Melinoe despises people who disrespect the dead, hence why she’s goddess of propitiation.

Her only friends are mortals, but Hades does not approve of them and worries they are keeping her from her “true potential” as a goddess.

3rd born - Macaria, Goddess of Blessed Death - She looks a lot like her mother. She has light purple skin, dark purple hair and magenta eyes. She is very sweet and kind just like Persephone and cares for both the living and the dead. She’s also babied a lot by her parents because she’s the youngest. She likes to spend her time gardening with her mother in Asphodel Meadows and interacting with the mortal souls there.

Fun Facts:

Her family calls her “Mac” for short.

Hades is protective of all of his children, but is very protective of Macaria the most because she is his youngest daughter and she reminds him a lot of her mother.

When she eventually earns her role as Goddess of Blessed Death, she becomes the caretaker of Asphodel Meadows.

She is the kindest and friendliest of her siblings.

When she gets older she becomes more of the voice of reason with her siblings.

She has a few agriculture powers like her mother. She can mainly make flowers.

#hercules #disney #disney hades #hercules oc #persephone #disney oc #hades #hades disney #hades x persephone #fanchild #disney next gen #melinoe #zagreus #macaria #persephades #hades hercules #hercules movie/series au

[dooppooo]

mdni - swearing, drinking, strip club atmosphere, use of pet names like princess and kitten, daddy kink, cream-pie, brat taming, 4 v 1 basically, slapping, unprotected sex, a hand wrapped around your throat but not choking, let me know if I missed any!!

-

Are all my posts inspired by edits? Maybe.

And there's nothing you can do about it.

Anyway, I'm sure everyone has seen this by now but I need to write about it because dear God I'd let them do whatever they wanted to me.

Just imagine there's this like sex-strip-club-bar combo.

Exotic massage? Sure.

Wanna just sit at the bar and drink 'till your heart's content? That's fine.

Watch the girls dance because strippers are strong and hot? Hell yeah.

Or maybe the only thing to ease the stress of a corporate job was a tight, wet hole.

Name it and this club had it.

And it was quite a hot spot on Friday nights too - the one day a week you worked.

Why just one day?

Well, you didn't need to work anymore days a week, the tips you made were enough to cover your expenses for the week and then some. You loved your job and the clientele, especially since the usual crowd was suited up men looking to smoke and play cards with a pretty girl on their lap.

But you didn't wander around on the floor anymore - you did your time there. At this club, you were a private girl. You were assigned to one room, your room, where two to four men could rent out the space to do as they pleased. Most of the time it was poker and drinks with you kissing them on the cheek, tits out.

But tonight, you were really given a run for your money when four criminally handsome men walked in. A blonde man with a slim face, another with dark short hair and a scar on his lip, then a man with long midnight hair and a devious smile, and finally a gentleman with snow-white hair and devilishly tall.

Tonight you wore a one-piece set of lingerie, stockings with garters, a wispy robe with fur around the wrists and neck, the whole nine yards. You looked ravishing.

And they thought so too, because when they entered the room and took their seats, their eyes didn't leave you. Tonight would be much more fun that you expected.

"What's tonight activity boys?"

The man with the slim nose and slick blonde hair spoke, "Cards and bourbon."

You nodded and served them their drinks, then shuffled the cards, "Poker I'm assuming."

They hummed in agreement.

Once the cards were dealt and the game was set up, it was time for you to get to work. You made your way around the table, massaging their tense shoulders as you eyed their cards and whispered sweet nothings into their ears. Your usual pet-names were replaced with their names as you listened to them banter with one another.

"That's a good hand Satoru, looks like I dealt well." You breathed into his ear and undid his first few buttons, "There's no need for you to stress."

Then you traveled to the man with luscious locks and slipped onto his lap, twirling a strand around your finger, "Mm, nothing like a man that can take care of his hair and keep it silky."

One of his hands came down to rest on your thigh while his other held his cards, his forehead nestled into the crook of your neck, "You smell as delicious as you look darling."

A giggle tickled your chest and you playfully smacked his strong arm, "You better pay attention to your little game Suguru."

The next was Toji, who had been stoic since he had passed the threshold, clearly bottling up some frustration.

"Ass or tits?" You wondered, sweeping some of hair from his vision.

He quirked a brow at your query, "Guess."

To hide your smile, you bit your lip and studied his features, internally juggling the two options.

Then, for effect, you pressed your chest against his shoulder as you answered in his ear lowly, "Tits for sure."

As if on cue, there was a twitch in his tight tuxedo pants.

By the time you sauntered over to Nanami, all the men had gone red in the cheeks - from the alcohol or you, you weren't sure - and we're shifting in their seats. The temperature had risen in the room and you could smell their desire thick in the air.

"How's it going Kento?" You stood behind him and draped your arms over his chest, letting your palms slide down toward his pants.

He sighed, but not the kind of sigh you expected.

"Do you guys mind if I go first?"

The rest nodded in agreement and continued to play their game as if you weren't in the room with them.

At that, Kento stood from his seat, downed the rest of his drink and rested his cards on the table. His hand was wrapped around your arm as he practically drug you to the couch and then threw you against the cushions. You were drooling.

His jacket came off and his belt was undone before he was kneeling between your legs, "I think black would look better on you." He commented before pulling aside your panties and shoving his cock inside of you.

It wasn't painful in the slightest seeing as you had been dripping for these men all evening, but Nanami's sheer length and girth had you gasping for air. He snapped his hips into you relentlessly, grasping your hips hard enough to crush a baby's skull and pinning you against the couch.

You felt him twitch inside of you, and the next moment he had completely pulled out, cum shooting all over your pretty lace.

"Ugh! Asshole! That's gonna leave a stain!"

But Nanami didn't entertain your complaints, simply cleaned himself up, refastened his belt, and returned to the table.

Just as Kento settled into his chair, Toji was getting to his feet and undoing his zipper while he approached you.

But unlike Nanami, Toji shoved your bra up over your tits and ripped down your panties to completely discard of them.

"Kento!" Toji called for his attention angrily.

"I don't wanna hear it Fushiguro."

"It's common fucking courtesy! Next time just take them off."

Were they talking about your panties? If that were the case, this wasn't their first rodeo.

"And as for you," his hand grasped your throat, "I don't want to hear any more bitching. Know your place."

All of your blood was rushing to your core and face, completely awestruck at the sudden change in tone from Nanami to Toji.

He didn't seem to care though, for both of his hands found refuge on your tits and fondled them as he railed himself into you. Those same hands tweaked at your stiffened nipples and a sinister smile reached from ear to ear hearing your moans and squeaks.

"Open up princess." He demanded, pulling himself from your cunt and grasping a handful of your hair to guide your face toward his length.

Just in time, your tongue lolled out and his load painted your throat and mouth.

"Mmhmm, very good."

Then once his high subsided, he was cleaning up and stuffing himself back into his slacks, retuning to the game.

At this point you had yet to climax yourself, and was growing just as irked as the men tossing you around. So you tried to take matters into your own hands by storming from the couch over to the table to grab Toji and make him finish you off, because Goddamnit you deserved to cum too.

But Geto had other plans.

His body created a wall between you and the other patrons at the table, his height casting a slight shadow over your smaller figure.

"You're feisty," just as you did, he twirled one of your strands around his finger, "But it's too bad nobody likes a feisty brat."

In his palm he clenched a clump of your hair and hauled you back over to the sofa. You cried out from the harsh grip and once again when your body collided with the furniture, but that was no worry of Geto's.

Without a concern for your needs, he tossed you around like pizza doe until you were on all fours, ass stuck in the air.

A hand collided with your skin and you yelped, feeling how his nails sunk into you and left half moons, "See, that's what we pay you to do - make pretty little noises and be a good cock sleeve." Another yelp when he abruptly entered you, "Don't make it complicated, just do your job."

The new position not only had your knees weak but drool (and remnants of Toji's cum) making your lips slick. Suguru was right; everyone could enjoy themselves if you just gave into it. Maybe they were purposefully withholding your orgasm, just to feel you pulsing around them as they edged you.

Another burning smack came across your ass and you couldn't do much else but groan. With three men having gone through you, you were nearly fucked out, but granted Geto his wish to hear your 'pretty little noises.'

"Mm, fuck!" He swore out, yanking your head back by your hair and unloading himself onto your ass and back.

If you weren't a cum dump before, you certainly were now.

Like clock work, Geto left as fast as he came, leaving your to prepare yourself for the final round: Gojo Satoru, whom startled you at his rapid appearance and face directly in-front of yours.

"Having fun yet?"

You didn't even have a reply to that. The audacity of some men...

Under his blindfold you could see his brows furrow and his lips stretch into a frown, "Why such the long face kitten? I can't think of single reason for you to be so displeased." He cupped your cheek, "Cheer up, your ruining my mood."

If you could, you'd slap him right across his annoyingly handsome face. He really was getting under your skin, and whether that was intentional or not, it only made your mood more sour. But you had learned your lesson from the men before Gojo to not be a brat and know your place.

"Nothing to say huh?" He pursed his pink lips, "You seemed so eager to bite back at Toji and Suguru. Cat got your tongue?"

Fury was boiling beneath your skin and surely turning the cheeks on your face as red as the ones on your ass. Instinctively your fists clenched to aide in channeling you anger, but also on stand by for when he deserved a solid jab.

"Awe kitten, you seem angry. What's got you so worked up? Here - come sit on daddy's lap and tell me what's wrong."

Next to you he made himself at home, letting his legs spread comfortably and lounging against the back of the sofa. He tapped his thigh and nodded to encourage you.

You glanced back at the table of men who continued to swear at each other and drink contently. Unbelievable.

"Hey-" his hand grasped your jaw, lengthy, slender fingers pressing into your face, "You look at me. Got it?"

You were a deer in the headlights.

He forced you closer to his face, "Answer me slut." And you nodded vigorously. "Uh-uh, use your words, you're a big girl."

"Yes sir."

Smack!

"Try again."

Tears were brimming in your eyes, "Yes...daddy."

The most menacing smile you had seen that evening made an appearance, making goosebumps ripple across your skin.

Next he slid off his blindfold, and crystalline eyes illuminated beneath his frosty hair, "Get to work kitten, I've been waiting for you all night."

Your line of sight drifted down to his groin, and beneath confided in his fancy bottoms was something that made you shudder.

Mocking laughter erupted from Satoru, "Don't look so surprised. Now, get him out and take a seat."

You hesitated at first, trembling as you popped the button and slid down the zipper. Shaky fingers advanced to his boxers, reaching in and getting your fingers wrapped around him. Compared to your hand, he was massive, like a baby and The Rock side by side.

Unsheathing it made you shudder once again. Sure, the men before you were pretty hefty, making you gasp and stretch in such a divine way, but this...this could be painful. There was only one way to find out.

Without giving it too much thought, you pumped some of your essence onto him before gradually easing him into you. The stretch didn't burn, but it definitely wasn't something you had experienced before. By the time he had kissed your cervix with his tip you were sweating and panting like a dog.

Smack!

"You're not a damn dog, get a grip and compose yourself kitten."

Now both sets of cheeks were an embarrassing shade of crimson, and it made you gather yourself on the double.

Gojo must've sensed your struggle and granted you the kindness of starting slow, letting you adjust to his size. However, the second he spotted your pupils dilate a mere centimeter, he shifted gears. Those same expansive hands had a handle on your waist and slammed you down onto his hips all while drilling into you from below.

Much like with Geto, you were reduced to huffs and mewls, letting him just run his course and push you right to your orgasm but not courteous enough to let you toss your head back and cry. You body became even more limp with Satoru, reaching your limit in terms of strength and endurance.

"Mm, even with all my friends gone through you, you're still so tight. Fuck."

In his seat, Gojo shifted to hit a different angle, a better angle. The one that struck right against your most sensitive spot and had you nearly convulsing.

"Oh God - oh fuck!"

You weren't even able to warn him of your orgasm, but you couldn't give two shits. You let loose all over him, your walls milking him and fully releasing.

By the time you had finished, your sweaty body was like a sandbag against Satoru's torso, desperate to steady your breathing. You knew better than to expect him to stick around and console you, so when Gojo threw you off of him like a toy he was tired of playing with, you weren't surprised.

"You guys almost done?" He wondered to his friends.

"Yep, waiting on you." Replied Geto.

Gojo zipped himself up, tugged back on his blindfold, and pulled out his wallet. He leaned down to your half-conscious frame and whispered while slipping some bills into your garter, "Sorry, forgot to pull out, might want to buy a plan B."

Once the weight of his words hit your ears, the room was already empty.

#jjk smut #gojo smut #geto smut #toji smut #nanami smut #gojo satoru #geto suguru #toji fushiguro #nanami kento #jjk x reader #gojo satoru smut #geto suguru smut #toji fushiguro smut #nanami kento smut

[apocalypticgargoyle]

I read the edgy!karl, I’ve just finished reading the alt!dream, WHEN IS GEORGE GONNA BE NEXT 😩😩

*cracks knuckles* the hcs that everyone has provided me with has hella prepped me and I'm ready. this is dedicated to 🍭 anon, whose fanart always steals my entire heart. i love u babe

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐄. ᶤ 𝐩𝐮𝐧𝐤!𝐠𝐧𝐟

± pairings: punk!Georgenotfound x fm!reader

± word count: ~3300

± warnings: smut (18+), language, tattoo work, sadism, pain kink (if you squint), domination, mentions of needles, asphyxiation

song recommendation: Cent Fois by Alice et Moi

George’s mind wandered to his curiosity of the shop across from his tattoo parlor; bright neon signs advertising the local psychic. It was a stark contrast to the dark, wet city housing the businesses. Each night he locked up, he found himself standing on the other edge of the street, staring at the signs and draperies peeking from behind the glass windows and considering shedding his skeptical nature just for one night.

While your business was alluring in and of itself, his true draw to the place came after he had spotted you moving into the apartments above. Your clean appearance completely juxtaposed the business you ran. In his opinion, all natural healers and psychics were born scam artists only focused on the quickest way to pinch a penny.

Yet day after day, he found himself having to tear his eyes from your business just to get home or he would actually venture inside. He was rather subtle about his fascination when it came to his co-workers and regular customers, but each day he prayed you would wander in, requesting some kind of tattoo in a place hidden from outside eyes.

A place he’d like to see again in a less professional setting.

You flipped the textbook page after finishing your paragraph, highlighting a date you were looking for before leaning towards your notebook and scribbling down the fact. You gnawed on the end of your pen absent-mindedly, positive you still didn’t know what your professor had been rattling off about in class a few hours prior. Your sights drifted up to the incense burning across the store from you, the stick on its last few centimeters of wood as the smoke went stale.

You chew on the inside of your cheek, debating if you should light another or wait until morning. You capped your marker and stretched your back, the bell over the door letting out a telling chime as a man peeked in.

You leaned over the counter, closing your books. “Good evening! Welcome to After Life. Can I help you find anything?” You rambled, your mind flashing to the sheet of paper tucked into the frame of your bathroom mirror so you didn’t forget the basics of customer service.

The man stepped further into your view, stuffing his fists in his jean pockets as he walked closer in a cautious motion. His dark t-shirt advertised a band you had vaguely heard of, but couldn’t think of a song even if your life depended on it. What really drew your attention were his tattooed arms; branches from a grand tree twisting every which direction to peek out from beneath his sleeves; bright floral designs and litters of birds decorating the dark wood limbs. You bit back a smile at the small mushroom tattoo near his wrist that seemed to be out of place.

The laces of his Chuck Taylors grazed the floor before he was standing in the middle of your store, looking around briefly. “I actually co-own the parlor across the street. I realized I never welcomed you officially,” he stated, hints of nervousness reflecting in his tone. His accent was calming and husky from the season change.

At the mention of the tattooist across the street, your memory flashed to the various walks of life that found themselves in your store after getting work done. You also thought of the fact that you had seen the man before you break up fights in the street stretching between your properties. The tall muscular people seemed to have no effect on him as he’d pull them apart like school children on the playground.

You pushed your books further to the side. “Oh yeah, that’s right! I should have come over and introduced myself, so don’t worry about it,” you eased, swatting the air of his comment.

He chuckled softly before reality seemed to snap into his head, making him step forward and extend a hand to you. “I’m George, by the way,” he introduced. You took his hand, muttering your own name and hoping your attention span would hold for long enough that he would be entered into your long-term memory.

His hand was calloused in yours, something that you wondered came with the job or if he was some kind of carpenter in a past life of his. You gently pulled his hand closer to you, slipping your hold out of his to look at his palm. He tittered nervously, peering at the flesh with you. Your finger traced along the mounts in his hand, finding Jupiter to be the most prominent. “That checks out,” you mumbled to yourself, nodding softly.

His eyebrows perked up. “What? Am… Am I gonna meet a tall dark stranger and take a trip across the sea?” He joked, making you smile as you looked at his Sun line.

“I didn’t peg you as an Outlander fan,” you chided.

His brows flattened for a moment, chewing the inside of his lip and playing with his snake bite piercings. You found it hard to look away from him. “Honestly, I wasn’t. A girl I was fooling around with really liked it. I don’t know…” he trailed off, making you giggle.

Your nail grazed along his heart line. “You guys were just fooling around?” You quirked, eyes meeting his. His expression narrowed smugly as if urging you to continue. “Your heart line begins below your index finger. You’re not the fooling around type.” He let out a snort. “You fall in love easily too.”

He sighed with a slight sparkle in his eyes as he looked at you. You couldn’t tell if he was amazed or mocking you again. “Well, yeah. That’s…” He paused with a swallow, biting back a grin as if he was uncomfortable, but didn’t retract his hand from you. “... That’s why we’re not anymore,” he admitted. He leaned his elbows on the counter as you sat in your chair. “What else does it say?”

Your lips curled into a soft smirk, his curious eyes trailing over your face as if to watch your brain work. “You have a fire element hand which indicates that you’re confident and passionate. Maybe a bit cocky sometimes,” you teased, making him chuckle with you. You could feel his eyes on you, sending heat to your cheeks as you tried not to focus on the mount of Venus under your touch.

You wanted to ask him about his sexual indulgences, mainly because of the prevalence of Venus in his palm. “You have a mount in Jupiter, which means you’re a natural leader, and rather dominant.” You looked up at him again, watching as he bit back a smirk, seemingly understanding the subtle innuendos behind your statements.

George seemed to have some kind of effect on you, your thoughts clouding with the idea of what his snake bites would feel like against your lips. He smelled like cigarette smoke, but there was no discoloration to his skin to suggest he was the one smoking. He watched you through the hair threatening to dangle over his eyes, his gaze hinting at an attraction he had for you below his collected form. “Go on,” he murmured, voice soft and wispy as the space between the two of you seemed to warm.

You made a conscious effort to keep your sultry thoughts at bay as your thumb brushed over the area you had been avoiding telling him about. “You’re driven by desire,” you answered, voice barely above a whisper. “You’re… very in touch with your sexuality and you thrive on your indulgences.”

You couldn’t help but meet his eyes, the dark irises swimming with some kind of cocky smugness at what you had just told him. He pulled away from you, gently standing up. Part of you wished the counter between the two of you would vanish just so you could be pressed up against George at the mercy of his driven mind. “I feel it's only fair I tattoo you now,” he quipped, making your eyebrows raise. Your confidence shriveled yet you swore you wouldn’t let him know that fact.

You chewed on your lip, looking up at him with a hint of suspicion. “Oh, I’ve never been tattooed,” you avowed, voice carrying the slightest bit of your coaxing nature.

He smirked. “I’ll take care of you, I promise,” he cajoled, teeth playing at his piercings again as you were sure he was already undressing you with his eyes. “You read me, I’d like to do the same.”

And how could you refuse such an appealing offer?

You leaned back on your elbows, your skin sticking to the leather chair beneath you as you watched him pull back his hair, elastic band dangling from his white teeth. Despite securing back his locks, bits of his bangs still hung over his forehead. You liked the interior of his parlor, maybe because it was only the two of you.

George began to fill small caps of dark ink. “I think you should get some crystals in here,” you teased, making him smirk. “I could hook you up.”

“What, like a salt lamp?” He joked, pulling on a pair of dark plastic gloves.

You snorted, lying back and looking up at the ceiling. “It might be good. Lighten the place up a bit.” George swiveled his chair closer to you muttering some kind of line about only getting them from you, but his words fell silent on your ears as his hand pushed up your shirt. You were silently thanking whatever divine force above for swaying you towards slinkier lingerie earlier that morning.

You knew he could see the lacy edges of your bra by the way his eyes nonchalantly flashed up to you before laying out his template on your ribs. You could feel hints of his warm breath against your skin as he studied it. “You can look at it if you want,” he stated.

You shook your head, wanting him close to you as long as he could be. “I trust you,” you muttered, your eyes meeting his again. His tongue pressed against his cheek as he struggled not to smile at your statement. He had promised to cover a small scar for you and by the way he explained it, you were ready to be in his hands. You wet your lips as he adjusted the speed on his tattoo gun. “Will this hurt?” You asked, tucking one of your arms behind your head.

The look of unadulterated lust that he gave you made your toes want to curl. “Probably a bit. It feels good sometimes, though,” he answered. He came closer to you, resting his forearm on your stomach to angle himself in the right position. At the feeling of his skin pressed against yours, you swore your body was on fire. It took everything in your power not to moan. It could have been the adrenaline pulsing through your veins, but his soft breath and the anticipation of the needle made you feel like a junky. “I’ll be gentle, darling,” he leered, his accent muddy and low. He let the needles drag against your skin and you bit your lip, trying not to hiss at the pain. His eyes met yours. “See, not bad.”

You let out a breathy wheeze. “Shut up, you sadist,” you quipped, his chuckle coming out rather roguish as he focused on the work in front of him. Your nerves were more focused on the way George’s hands were barely caressing your body as if teasing and hinting at what he could do to you.

You drew in a sharp breath as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. “Shhh shh. It’ll be over soon,” he cooed, his voice sending goosebumps spreading across your body as his lips tugged into a light smirk. By your palm reading, you knew he was enjoying having this much control over you.

Part of you found it almost torture when George would look at you with soft and lusty eyes for merely a second before his gaze jutted back down to his work, murmuring soft praises about how well you were taking the pain. You would go under the needle anytime he asked, just to receive the sultry treatment he gave.

He was so close, you could have driven your fingers into his dark hair if you wanted. “How did you get this scar?” He asked, cleaning off some of the ink before continuing.

“A knife fight,” you answered without missing a beat, making him scoff. “Actually, I fell into my grandma’s glass table one time. My cousin was teaching me the Electric Slide,” you corrected, making him laugh, shaking his head slightly as he filled in a spot.

He let his tongue dart across his lips. “That’s so cute. Did you ever get it figured out?” To this you shook your head, the both of you laughing. You let out a groan as the needle dug into another area on your ribs, the sound making his eyes dart up to you. He leaned off of you, slipping one of his gloves off. “Wanna hold my hand, sweetheart?” He joked, but you took his offer, squeezing his hand in yours when it got painful enough. You held it close to your chest, hoping he would feel your heartbeat quicken each time he looked at you.

As he finished up his work, his thumb brushed against your hand absent-mindedly. You could tell by the way he gripped your hand as well that he enjoyed that the tattoo hurt you. Most of your mind was excited by how easily he was stirred up by you, while the rest was completely unsurprised and even threatened to bite out that he was a cliché.

When he was finally satisfied, he cleaned you up and stuck on a SecondSkin, biting back a grin at his work as he pulled you up by the hand he was holding onto you with. You couldn’t help but smile at how excited you were to see, swinging your legs over the side of his hair and walking towards his mirror. You held your shirt up, chewing on your bottom lip as you grinned at the ink. George rested a hand beside the mirror, watching you beam at his work.

All of his lines were flawless, your scar completely disappearing within his shading. You’d pitched the idea of an ode to the Creation of Adam. While it was cliche, what better to fit in the space below your breast and give George the impression that you were cultured. Yet you told him he could do whatever he wanted to it, resulting in one of the hands resembling a skeleton and the other holding a sucker. As you praised him, he shrugged off your comments, murmuring about it being his pleasure. He reached out his free hand, letting his thumb smooth over one of the edges of this bandage, which brought you closer to him.

Your cheeks warmed at the close proximity to him as his eyes grazed over your body before meeting your own. His hand moved from the bandage to your back. You leaned on your toes, pressing your lips to his. The tension between the two of you dissipated as he hungrily reacted, pulling you against him and savoring your moans as his tongue slipped into your mouth.

George’s hands moved down your body, swiftly hooking around your thighs and wrapping your legs around his waist to bring you back to his chair. Your hands moved into his hair, letting it loose and wrapping the band around your wrist. The leather was cold as your back pressed to it. George leaned back to pull his shirt over his head, revealing more of the tree painting the expanses of his skin.

If you weren’t so eager to be touched by him, you’d be studying the work of art.

As his lips met yours again, you ground your hips against his, eliciting a moan to vibrate through his chest. You raked your nails down his back, trying to further draw out reactions from him as his hands attentively played with the lace of your bra, fingers ghosting over the skin pressing against the cups.

His lips left yours only to travel the length of your jaw and inch his way toward your waistband. Your pants were discarded with a swift tug from him before he pulled your thighs flush against his, grinding his hips against yours, hands gripping onto your sides to keep you in place. You tilted your head back, relishing in the friction as your body screamed to finally feel him take advantage of you.

You reached between the two of you, tugging at his zipper as your hunger for him escalated. His tongue flattened against your collarbone before his teeth pressed into your skin. You could feel his arousal through his jeans at the sound of your whimpering.

He pumped himself in his hand before pressing into you, the feeling of him inside of you making your head spin as if you were on some kind of ecstasy. Your moan came out needy and desperate as he thrust into you, gripping the edge of the leather seat as his breath hummed against your skin. Your fingers threaded into his hair, raking your nails down his neck as he groaned in your ear at the feeling.

One of his hands grasped your wrists together, pinning them above your head while the other wrapped around your throat. His eyes burned into yours as he leaned back, leaning his weight on your wrists and squeezing your throat, the lack of oxygen making each of your senses more heightened as he pounded into you.

Your moans of George’s name were grated as they slipped through your mouth, his relentless pace and intense hold nearly making you drool from the stimulation. By the practice of his actions, you wondered how long he had been stewing on demolishing you in this way.

He loosened his grip on your neck, leaning down to press his lips against yours, dragging his teeth along your bottom lip just to hear you groan from the rough action. You rolled your hips against his, letting him slow his pace to reach deeper within you. A sadistic grin spread across his face as he rubbed a thumb across your cheek, wiping away the makeup smudging around your eyes from his antics and the heat between the two of you.

He pressed his lips to your neck, wrapping his hand around the edge of the chair again to drive himself into you, the new angle muddling your mind and vision as your body ached to come undone. You sank your nails into his back, earning his low, raspy whispers of your name.

At his praises, you came, tugging on his hair as he bit into your shoulder again, basking in the feeling of you clenching around him.

The next day, George stretched his shoulders, peering through the front window of his shop. His mind sparked with the feeling of your legs around his waist and the softness of your skin beneath his fingertips. He could practically hear you whimpering his name in his ears as he went back to touching up a fading tattoo on his friend’s arm.

“OW, George,” Clay rumbled, thigh flinching at the jab from George.

George snorted, his mind still on the high he got from your pure trust in him as you laid out on his chair. “I’ll give you something to bitch about,” George grumbled, releasing just how gentle he was during your tattoo. The way your voice got soft and quiet when he rolled over a spot that was rather tender already would most definitely be a guilty pleasure of his.

Clay barked at him again as George jerked his hand, fulfilling his promise. “I’VE BEEN NICE TO YOU ALL MORNING.”

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[hargrove-mayfields]

You’re The One I Want To Go Through Time With

Day one of HWOL is finally here!! So excited to share all I’ve written! For today I chose the prompt Neighbors AU!!! You can read this on ao3 also as part of the collection as well!!  Hope y’all like it!! 

Word Count: 11,952

Rated: G

It finally happens when he’s 15 years old. It’s not like he hasn’t seen it coming, but Steve gets kicked out.

In the very beginning of a particularly brutal Hawkins summer, he had decided to invite Tommy over to smoke weed in the pool house. He thought nothing of it, but the neighbors complained about the smell, and, coupled with every other act of his deemed irresponsible, immature, disgraceful, by his stuck-up parents, a couple of blunts was apparently the last straw.

They tell him the Harringtons had a reputation, an air of elegance and respect they had to upkeep, so they couldn’t just let him bring drugs onto their property. He thought it was ridiculous, considering that they were allowed as much wine aging in the cellar and expensive whiskey propped up on a hutch as they wanted, but when he’d brought it up he’d gotten nothing but a stern look.

They’d been through this a thousand times over, how worthless and terrible a son he could be, grounding him for bringing too many girls home, taking his car away when he failed a class, so he knew to expect a punishment.

This is obviously the next step, the throwing him out on the street thing, for years he could feel the neglect and tension starting to build up and boil over. Sometimes, they’d even hang threats of it over his head, so now that was told he had to be out of the mansion by the end of next week or there would be consequences, it couldn’t be too much of a shocker.

Though at some point, he’s got to wonder if they ever really thought as far ahead as consequences, or if they just knew they trained their boy well enough that it never got that far. If only he had more of a spine.

Now, as unsurprising as the scenario may be, Steve was still absolutely in no way, by any means ready to be thrown out on the streets before he even had his driver’s license.

In the case of emergency, like the time Stephen Sr. got just a little too rough and popped his wrist out of place, or when they’d left him alone for a month at age 9 and he went three days without food because he didn’t know how to turn the stove on, he had his aunt, the thankfully much more compassionate counterpart to his mother, who lived over in California.

The minute they’re gone, having passive aggressively hurried off somewhere, probably the country club or something, to complain about how disappointing their son was with their rich friends, Steve grabs a suitcase from the closet and gives his Aunt Margaret a call.

Before he knows it she’s got him a flight booked, a written agreement from her sister that proved taking him in was legal, and a set of luggage. Three days later, he was flying first class towards the rest of his life.

~~~~~~~

Touching down in San Francisco has got to be the most surreal thing he’s ever done.

He’d never even left the Midwest before, his farthest ventures being into the three states surrounding his home state, so to be charted off to the west coast? It’s an experience alright.

Aunt Margaret is there waiting for him, her jet black permed hair a few inches above the rest, her brown eyes sparkling with the kindest smile he’s ever seen as she runs up to hug him.

She takes all of his bags, swatting his hands away when he tries to carry even one, and makes him sit in the car while she shoves it all into the trunk.

He wasn’t used to not being the help, since that’s all his parents ever really saw him as anyways, only valuable as their son if they got something out of the time they spent with him. It’s got him feeling weird the whole drive back to the Margos apartment, like he’s in some alternate reality where people are nice to him for a change.

She lives in one of those shared places, a duplex where the house is divided into two halves for two different renters, the very kind his mother would’ve turned her nose up at despite having been raised in one herself. Margaret told him there was a mother and son who lived in the other half, but they’re quiet enough, and polite.

Just pulling up outside of the house, Steve already knows it’s everything he’s ever wanted.

The house itself, painted a pale shade of peeling yellow and missing the majority of the shingles off of the roof, is actually a reasonable size, a direct contrast to the mansion he grew up in, fit for a dozen but occupied by one most days.

Brutal summer heat has dried up the lawn and the garden so they aren’t perfectly tailored, not trimmed by underpaid staff or watered by automatic sprinklers. All across it there’s a scattering of ornaments, like colorful pinwheels in the front garden, and plastic flamingos standing guard by the mailbox.

There’s even a rickety old fence, all mossy and broken up to mark the edges of their property, so different from the white vinyl fence in his backyard at his parents house.

It would seem too that the garage was only big enough for one car, not three like he was used to, and that the makeshift gravel driveway leading up to it was at max capacity with only his aunts Oldsmobile Cutlass Calais, and a dinged up old Karmann Ghia the same color as the house parked in it.

Basically, there were none of the telltale signs that a neglected rich boy lived there, and from that alone he already knew he belonged here.

His aunt hurries him into their section of the house, theirs is the right side, so he can get to resting off the jet lag before he starts unpacking, but he’s far too distracted taking everything in to worry about being a little drowsy.

The rooms are small and the ceilings are low. Where there would’ve been beige and white and other sophisticated tones, there was a rainbow of colors in Margos apartment, from the curtains to the carpet, the Afghan on the back of the couch to the little trinkets in the entertainment center and windowsills.

He notices that, to accommodate for the heavy summer heat, there was a fan spinning in the corner, and all the windows were left wide open. His parents had the windows painted shut back home.

It might’ve been overwhelming, being thrown into a place like this so suddenly, but in his heart he knows this was what he was made for: a cozy life with someone who treated him with the bare minimum of respect.

~~~~~~~

Eventually Steve does fall asleep, the switch from Eastern Standard to Pacific time just being too great for his body. He doesn’t really mean to, he thought he’d just lay down for a minute while he was putting his clothes away in his new dresser, but he ends up sleeping until it’s almost dark out.

He goes looking for Margo when he realizes the house is empty, an irrational pit of dread growing in his chest at the familiarity of being alone, and finds her out back.

The yard also seems to be shared with the other house, a wispy line of barely showing through grass separating the two where a divider had once been, but had since been ripped up.

His aunt is with another woman, a blonde lady who he assumed was from the next door apartment, were sitting in mismatched lawn chairs, cigarettes glowing as the sun got lower and lower in the sky.

Margaret beckons him over once she notices him, and shows him off to the woman. It’s not at all like his mother would’ve done it, none of the flaunting him to make a good impression. This is more like her wanting to introduce him because she genuinely cares.

In a way, it almost makes Steve more uneasy. He could handle all the fake stuff with only the slightest hint of discomfort at being gawked at, because most of the time he’d never have to see those people again, but this was astronomically different.

“Maria, this is my nephew Steve.” Deep blue eyes seem to take him in, accompanied by a polite smile that makes his stomach drop for no good reason.

He panics, shifts into the role of the perfect little socialite he’d been working on his whole life. Without thinking, he extends his hand for her to and produces the generic response his mother’d trained into him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Ms..”

She takes his hand, but looks a little surprised about doing it. “Hargrove. But we don’t have to do formalities.”

“Right.” It feels awkward to Steve, but judging from the laid back attitude of the women, it’s not a universal sentiment. That only makes it more embarrassing, to be the only one bothered by it.

His aunt leans back in her chair, tapping the ash of the end of her cigarette and tells him, “Go ahead and grab a chair Stevie.”

He straightens his back out and scans the yard, expecting a chair to already be propped open somewhere. The confusion must be apparent on his face when he finds nothing but grass and more grass, because his aunt specifies, “By the shed, kiddo.”

His parents always told him they weren’t allowed to have lawn furniture except the pool chairs cemented to the ground, because they said it didn’t fit the lifestyle they tried to lead. Even the concept of a shed would’ve been insulting to their tastes.

He's done enough growing up to know now that they were just afraid to look too much like they were people who lived in rural Indiana instead of in true big city luxury. They couldn’t risk seeming too much like they weren’t in the upper middle, it would be a disgrace.

The contrast between that and just sitting out there and not having his guard up is so, grounding. Not having anything at all to do but just, sit and appreciate instead of performing and worrying, it’s a lot to take in at once.

He was so nervous the whole way up, even though it was his aunt and he already knew she was nice, that they wouldn’t get along, since that’s the way things always were with his own mum, and lord knows he hardly ever even spoke to his father.

But it’s really not tense at all, actually, it’s sort of the opposite. For once in his life he feels free of expectations, and takes the moment to just exist. Ruthie and Stephen Sr. had long ago made sure that was a concept he could barely understand.

It’s not too long after that that the screen door to Maria’s side of the house swings open, scaring Steve so bad he almost tips his chair over as he startles.

There’s a boy who he’s guessing is about his age leaning out the door, but from the distance he’s at and with how dark it’s getting, Steve doesn’t see much else about him. “M back momma.”

“Okay baby.” The screen door clicks shut again in the next moment, and Maria offers Steve an apologetic smile “You’ve gotta excuse my Billy. He’s not too good with other kids.”

“No, it’s alright.” He assures her, like a polite social butterfly should.

Maria goes in a little while after that, and Margaret and Steve follow suit, since the sun’s almost all the way down.

But Steve’s curious now. He wants to know more about the boy, Billy, he thinks was what Maria called him. It’s only right to wonder, being that they’re neighbors now and all.

It gets brought up later that night, when they’re watching TV on the couch, a thrifted, feather stuffed thing he thought was simultaneously the most hideous and most comfortable thing he’d ever sat on.

“I didn’t know you had neighbors.” He’d been trying to work himself up to talking about it, sitting in the corner of the couch in a little ball and picking at his nails as he worked up his courage.

It was funny, being so nervous over casual conversation, but he guesses he could blame his parents for that one.

His own mum wouldn’t have even paid him any mind, at most pretending to listen while her eyes stayed trained to the television or magazine or coworker in front of her and hummed a non committal response, but Margo turns her whole body on the couch to face him while she answers him, with a complete sentence even. “Oh, people used to come and go all the time over there.”

“How long have they been here? Maria and her son?”

She thinks for a moment, a little surprised at her nephew's interest in the topic of their neighbors. “I don’t know, probably about a year or so now.”

“What’re they like?” He comes across as maybe a little too eager, and his aunt notices.

“What’s got you so curious?” There’s a teasing bit of reprimanding in her tone, just enough to suggest that she knows he’s being a nib-nose, but doesn’t mind it.

And he feels himself flush, because he is being nosy. To try to save face just a little, he comes up with an excuse that isn’t quite a lie. “Nothin’, just knew all my neighbors back in Hawkins, I guess.”

But she wasn’t upset with him, it wasn’t her intention to get him to shut up, like it would’ve been had he heard the same thing from one Ruthie Harrington, so she answers that question too. “I don’t know, they’re nice, sort of reserved, but I’ve never had any problems with them.”

~~~~~~

The two boys are properly introduced for the first time the next morning, when Steve goes out to fetch the mail for Margret. It feels like the least he can do for bumming off of his aunt.

Stepping out on the porch just shy of 8 in the morning and not seeing dewey grass, or the early sunshine muted behind rolling fog and dreary clouds is something he’s going to have to get used to.

Summers in Hawkins were always muggy, full of thunderstorms and unpredictably dreary days. San Francisco is so bright, so different, and such a relief.

While Steve basks in it, the already warm breeze and the sun shining bright, the neighbors’ door opens up and Billy comes out to do the same, standing on his tip-toes to reach up into the mailbox beside the door, holding a traveler's mug of coffee in the opposite hand.

When he turns around to go back inside, Steve, staying true to wanting to get to know the other boy better, has taken a few steps closer, and has extended a hand for Billy to shake, the same sort of introduction panic he’d felt last night.

But, Billy, seeing that his hands are a bit preoccupied by a stack of bills and a cup of coffee, just offers a sheepish smile.

Steve settles for a formal introduction without a handshake, though it’s still too stiff an interaction to really get to know him beyond the awkward new rich kid in town. “Hi. My name is Steve Harrington. I’m uh, I'm your new neighbor.”

“Pleasure to meet you Steve Harrington. M’Billy” They stand there, neither of them making any move to do anything but just look at one another. Billy clears his throat and shakes the coffee cup towards Steve, sensing that maybe this was the place for hospitality. “You want some? My momma always makes too much.”

“No thanks. I’m uh, allergic to coffee beans.”

“Huh.” He seems amused by that, scrunches his nose up like he doesn’t believe it, and Steve wants to curl up and disappear. “I’ll see you later then, Steve Harrington.”

He watches the other boy turn back to leave after that, and still sort of just stands there before his brain comes back on and he realizes he should say something in return. “Right, uh, bye.”

It’s just a moment's passing, but Steve can’t get the interaction out of his head.

He chalks it up to being nervous that his new neighbors won’t like him, the fear that Aunt Margo will send him back to his parents if he can’t get along here, and that makes logical sense, except, what he’s caught up on is Billy’s crooked smile, and his blond curls that lay just past his ears, messy from just waking up and bleached from the sun, and the spatter of dark freckles across his nose.

First full day in California and he has a crush on the neighbor kid. He can’t believe himself.

There isn’t very much time to mull that fact over though, because, over breakfast, what his aunt calls her ‘special occasion breakfast’ of cinnamon rolls with ice cream, she tells him she’s going to do some errands today.

And that’s alright, he tells her he’ll be fine all by himself, and he is, for the first few hours, but the more time she’s gone, the worse and worse he starts to feel. It’s that worry again, that deep rooted fear that he’ll be left alone forever.

Experience has taught him to try to calm himself down, to catch his breath and try to focus on the fact that he knows he’s being irrational, but those techniques don’t cut it, as they often don’t, and he’s sending himself further into a panic attack trying to think too hard about it

Sitting inside, he gets stir crazy, feels suffocated by everything that had before been inviting to him, so he goes for some fresh air out front. Watching the road for so long, just waiting for the Oldsmobile to pull up, he starts to feel antsy again, so he goes out back where it’s quiet instead.

There’s a glider on the porch back there, an old rusty thing that squeaked every time Steve rocked it forward or back, but the calming motion of it is probably the only thing keeping him from spiraling too far.

He doesn’t really know what time it is anymore, only that he’s hungry, and that the sun’s going down, and that he’s been sort of zoned out back there for a long while. He feels hot and cold at the same time, and he’s lost in his head.

The sound of a screen door gently tapping against the side of the house brings his eyes up from the spot on the ground he’d been staring at with tears in his eyes, but it isn’t his aunt Margaret coming home, it’s just Billy.

With his hands stuffed in his pockets, leaning against the wall between the back doors, he says real quiet like, “Momma told me to ask if you wanted some of the dinner she made.”

He shrugs. “I’m alright.”

“I figured.” Billy looks at the floor while he tries to figure out how he wants to approach this. For a long moment, neither of them say a word, no sound between them but distant field crickets, until Billy asks, his voice quiet enough it barely registers in Steve’s mind. “You okay?”

If he’s being entirely honest, Steve doesn’t really know if he’s okay. He trusted his aunt enough to move all the way across the country with her, and yet he can’t manage enough trust to believe her when she said she’d come home from some errands? Doesn’t sound too okay to him.

But he’s not in Hawkins, he’s away from the people he knows for sure wouldn’t be coming back for him unless it was to pull something like they had and treat him like garbage. So in a way, he guesses he’s better than ever.

Unable to think of any words that might convey what he’s thinking, Steve just shrugs again, but Billy seems to get it. He sits down next to Steve on the glider and plants his feet so it won’t move, and so Steve’s attention will be on him.

Knowing he’s got Steve’s focus, since he looks over at him with glossy eyes, Billy tries to reassure him, “Your aunt’s a good lady. She wouldn’t leave you.”

“Who said I thought she would?” It sounds pathetic, wet and stuffy with the remnants of tears he hadn’t known were falling, but there’s a vulnerability he couldn’t hide behind even the toughest of masks that reveals he isn’t being honest.

“The way you watched for her car said enough.” It makes Steve feel exposed, having a total stranger see right through him, but Billy explains himself. “When my momma went out looking for this place, I was sure I’d never see her again.”

“Why did you guys move here?” If he was going to psychoanalyze Steve, he felt it was only fair to ask Billy a pressing question back.

“I’ll tell you if you tell me.” He deflects it back onto Steve in a way that might’ve seemed cocky, but it's obvious he’s just trying to avoid the question.

Steve won’t let him win this one though, maybe just to save his own ego, or pretend like he hadn’t been caught crying by someone he met that morning, or maybe it was just because he had asked first, but he wants Billy to answer, so he tells him, with the slightest hint of a bashful smile playing at his lips, “You first.”

“Stubborn.” He cracks a smile back though, and goes ahead and goes first at the other boys insistence. “My dad’s a real nasty s.o.b. Would get drunk and mean for no good reason, so momma took me and we high-tailed it before he did anything too drastic.”

He didn’t know what he was expecting, why he even felt like it was any of his business, and he doesn’t know what he should say to that.

For lack of a better response, he gives his own little life story summary. “My parents were rich. They didn’t want me, so they have the time of day for me. No matter what I did they punished me for it, grounded me, hit me, sent me to Christian school, until they just got sick of me, I guess.”

“That sounds pretty shitty.” Billy offered.

“Yeah, yours too.”

After a while, Billy, sounding for a moment like he’s a lot wiser than any 14 year old has the right to be, says “What matters is we’re here now.”

Steve feels so touched hearing that. It was so simple a thing for the other boy to say, but coming from Billy after he’d just shared what he did, it means a lot more than just basic condolences.

Hardly anybody had ever been that genuine in anything they said to him. Steve can hardly force a response out of his shocked mouth. As he looks over at Billy’s face, still turned up towards the sky, he sees all that meaning there illuminated by the stars, and he's able to mutter a breathless, “Yeah.” in response.

They both jump when the door flies open, and aunt Margo comes running over to Steve. Frantically she explains that she’d been trying to make sure everything was legal, only to find that some of Steve’s papers were missing, and they had to try to track them all down and get some of them faxed, and it ended up taking way longer than expected.

It feels nice to be understood. Just a few years ago his parents left for what was supposed to be a three day trip to Indianapolis, only they didn’t come back for what was almost two months. Once they were home they didn’t even mention it, just continued going about their business as usual until it was time to leave again. His aunt taking the effort to explain herself was already a vast improvement from that.

He lets her pull him into a big hug, accepts her apology as the air is squeezed out of his lungs, and when he pulls away from her, Billy’s gone.

~~~~~~~

Finish reading on ao3! You can find this posted under the same title by ej_writer or as part of the hwol collection over there! Sorry tumblrs word limits deemed this too long!

#harringrove week of love #billy x steve #harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #story by ej! #this is both a neighbors au and a billy lives with his mother au! #and there's no upside down! #you can also maybe probably read this as autistic billy! it wasnt intentional but that happens sometimes #if its a fluffy fic chances are 90% of the time someones going to end up neurodivergent bc my autstic brain can’t help it #disclaimer I think tumble deleted a paragraph or two from this so if it doesn’t make sense just go ahead and find it on ao3 lol #can y'all tell I've never left the midwest and was sorta just guessing what california is like #the closest experience I had to what I wanted the vibes to be like was growing up on my mawmaws property in the country #and thats deffo not even a little bit the same but hey. work with what ya got! #out of all of the prompts I think this'n turned out to be one of my favorites to write #its kind of all over the place but that's okay lol #lord knows I never intended it to be this long either #this is barely edited because i stayed up literally all night to finish this because I procrastinated it too hard haha

[sylph-feather]

delta echo alpha delta

Summary: 

He is here, for some reason, in this place and with these people he vaguely recognizes. He wants help. Please, please, please. 

(All they see is a haunting and a monster.)

Prompt by @ectopal

“Jack and Maddie, at the end of their rope,  beg Vlad to come to Amity to help stop the ghost that's haunting their family. Vlad realizes that it isn't a ghost that's terrorizing them, but their son, who recently became a half ghost and is having just about the worst time in the world dealing with it. Bonus points if in his human form Danny is extremely unsettling. ”

Notes:  (yes the title is from lemon demon’s lifetime achievement award). this... i spent. way longer setting it up so sorry about minimal vlad but. uhh im really proud of this. i went. i went a little nuts, admittedly. with imagery. i hope its not incomprehensible? 

Wordcount: 2825

Being dead… is new.

The Phantom isn’t sure just how it is new, it contemplates as it stares at two children who scream and scrabble at a smoking portal. Blank in their terror, they ignore him.

His eyes flicker towards a mirror on the other side of the room, and it only shows the two of them.

The phantom ignores them— who is he to interrupt? Dead men tell no tales. He gets the distinct feeling that everything is wrong, and a piece of that puzzle is the pair’s odd familiarity— but hey, he just died, he’s really not feeling up to much of anything.

Green eyes stare in the mirror, but that’s all he is— two green wisps, apparently ignored in the panic of two teens.

He supposes he should feel weirder having, presumably, died. No, he innately knows he died.

But mostly he just feels… confusion. Displacement.

And cold, not unpleasantly so, just a buried, almost peaceful chill.

In between blinks— perhaps he is tired, so tired, dead tired (he laughs to himself), the two teens flicker away, basement restored, before he can even think about questioning them. Why are you so familiar? Why am I here? It pokes sharply at his heart.

For the phantom knows he is dead, but he never considered that means alive once, too tired and dead-brained (hah) to question implication.

The ghost of Danny Fenton closes its wispy eyes, not strong enough to maintain form, let alone to pervade that shock scrabble at memories that may lead him to living again.

xXx

Three days pass. The ghost, in moments of waking, had decided Phantom. There is something so familiar about that name, the way it rolls off his (hypothetical) tongue.

In between blinks, he sees the Family in the basement, that place of awakening.

They speak of someone missing, lost. They gesture to the green, swirling abyss, upset as they work on something that looks like a rocket. Rocket. Stars pervade his mind as he lazily blinks, and he falls back asleep to dreams of space before he can even think again of questioning the Family, of asking can I help?

He knows what it is to be lost, but he is too tired and unfocussed.

xXx

The one with the firey, long hair notices him first. He has taken to floating about the abode. Nothing physical keeps him here, but there is some tug in his heart that makes him want to stay.

He likes the red haired one. She reads a lot. Talks about bad coping to the Parents, though he’s not sure what those words mean (he’s unsure also why he gets the feeling of vague annoyance, oddly familiar, and the stinging in his chest becomes so painful when he thinks like that, like a scorpion’s deadly barbed stinger).

One day, one higher energy day, a week after the awakening, Phantom lazily swishes after her, into her room. Sometimes he blinks and he hears the swishes of pages and a drip of water, and he has enough energy now to be curious.

The doors, the walls, the floor— they’re all nothing. Or maybe, rather, he’s nothing, he observes as he notes the girl crying on her psych book.

He frowns, distantly. She’ll ruin the pages like that. Maybe there’s something more he should be concerned about, but he is so young and lost, and so tired.

He runs a finger along a page, rolling away a tear, in an effort to dry it. The pages flutter in a wind, and the girl startles, glancing at the closed window.

For just a moment, Phantom sees not two piercing green wisps, but something blue and glinting, and a fragment of a foggy body in his place. He glances down— there is no second person here.

He’s distracted by the fact the girl is crying again, harder, scrubbing her eyes.

Distressed, he thumbs at her face, and a cool, wintery wind blows over her hair.

He’s too tired to do much more, and his chill becomes like a blanket to him.

xXx

It’s small, but maybe Phantom can help the family. His waking moments get more frequent and longer, and he starts to fidget with objects; the daughter cries, and he rustles her hair. The mother sleeps on her research of the great swirling door, and he drapes a foggy arm over her. The father squints into darkness at his foggy form as he goes down for a midnight snack— then blinks and rubs his eyes. He flickers the computers off when they should be sleeping, touches at their shoulders in comfort, because he wants to help them and he wants to be with them so bad. The flailing stinger pierces again and again.

“We’ll find him,” the Parents insists, and the Phantom tries to support them as best he can. The Daughter has given up, but he tries to help her, too.

Bluntly, the Phantom notes perhaps he is not exactly selfless— one of the few concrete truths he knows of himself (the other being an enjoyment of word play; he’s twisted dead and ghost every which way). There is some innate desire within him to be with them; seen, known, interacted with.

At the moment, he’s not more than a blustering wind and a foggy reflection.

He sinks to the floor, ghostly sigh escaping his ever invisible lungs. He’s wondered if ghosts are supposed to breathe as he does, but it’s not like anyone’s around to ask. His crackled voice is never heard by the Family, responded to by nothing but icy silence.

He brushes a hand against the cold lab table from his floating position. His hands feel solid to him, but again, do not reach the Family.

The Phantom takes a look around at the toxic green beakers and sleek white tech. He is slipping away again, not that he wants to— but not that he has a choice.

In what feel like his last moments for the day (week? Month? Time is undefinable) he grasps at a beaker, curious.

Green oozes onto the floor as it blows over. Frantically, the Phantom tries to correct his mistake— but touching it… touching it feels good. A jolt of electricity and energy. The tiredness… is gone.

Something flickers beneath him, and the Phantom jumps into the air. White feet follow black legs. Him.

The mirror that showed green wisps and two teens now show a white haired boy, with two green eyes. Something seems… underneath that reflection, though. Approaching the mirror, Phantom tilts his head, and the picture glints into something blue eyes and black haired for a fraction of a second, as though it is iridescent.

And then he blinks out altogether again.

xXx

Phantom’s first appearance is in the night. The girl has put away her book she was crying over while reading in the kitchen, and the Parents are upstairs; they eat, softly, quiet. It’s like walking in snow. The cold is not tranquil, the flakes not soft, they are just sharp things that land quietly in flesh.

The Phantom decides to break it with an icy crunch.

From the shadows, from the floors, he claws at that energy.

The Family stare in shock at the white haired, green eyed form that flickers in the shadows.

Their ears ring as his form, like static snowflakes, glints into something familiar, as they sit frozen.

xXx

He sleeps again, after that stunt— but the Phantom wakes, hopeful. The Family is searching for the lost person— perhaps they will also be sympathetic to his cause. Maybe they don’t even need to find the lost one, Phantom considers; this feels so much like home, maybe… maybe. No, no, you can both get help, he scolds in gentle reminder to himself, reminding those thoughts are the scoprion’s poison. It’s not malevolent— it just, in some way, he just knows he’ll slot in like a missing puzzle piece. He doesn’t know how he knows, and thoughts like that make the urge of please see me, the love, the need, grow so strong.

His voice reaches them in a static scream; he gives that approach up quickly when the Parents shoot into the nothing. He doesn’t want to scare, he wants to be helped, and to help. He’s finally a little less braindead (his chuckle is tinny static) and can contemplate a little more emotionally complicated situations— in other words, he can tell continuing to screech is perhaps not the best idea, and perhaps more subtlety that is available to him with his increased thoughts is required.

The TV channels, the word magnets, the radio. Static and the message lost lost lost please help lost lost forgot forgot see me see see see seeseeseeseesee me.

The Phantom feels his message is going well until the Family destroys those things in a green fire.

I need your help, though, he grimaces. Perhaps they just aren’t getting it. The dead cannot speak, are not supposed to; he knows this when he writes messages, something grating in his mind that keeps him from communicating all but his basic thoughts and wants.

Determined still, he starts flickering into existence again, clawing out of shadows. Lights flicker at his arrival.

It’s hard to do much like that, though; his brain dies (more?) and it’s all his concentration of see me see me.

The Family shoots at him, and more sleek machinery invades the household— defenses.

It doesn’t hurt him.

But… if he gets frustrated, slams at the fixtures a little harder than needed, rakes the words into place to try to say something, who can blame him? The Phantom, for some reason he cannot explain, feels the Family is his family. The Phantom wants to be seen. The universe tries to keep the dead in line, restrain the dead from disrupting that natural order of their old life and their afterlife. It’s a lot of factors, the Phantom dismisses, very much like a sassy teenager, and slams a door a little harder to get someone to notice.

The real problem is that they notice, then react in all the wrong ways. But the Phantom cannot swallow that, that his efforts are squandered, because then where would he be?

xXx

By the time the Fentons are valiant enough to get Vlad to get the “gang” back together, the creature is a constant. The ghost scrapes its filthy claws over the lights, resides in mirrors, screams over anything electronic— and their tech puts no stop to it. It’s like it has a foot in each world, caught between the ghost zone’s intangibility that would let it not be hurt but make it challenging to interact and the human realm’s solidity that would allow it to be wounded.

It is too powerful.

xXx

The Phantom can feel that the irritated old man is powerful. Something about his eyes glints red, in that same iridescent way that something inside Phantom’s green eyes glint blue like a glacier, if you just tilt your head and squint just right.

The Parents, who the Phantom has grown wary of— and yet he’s still here— why? It feels so much like home. He wants it to be home, because it’s always felt his place. Maybe that missing person doesn’t need to be found— maybe he can—no, no, remember!— the Parents, they are ranting about ghosts loudly. The man is impassive, and the Phantom plays with tilting his head just right to get the man’s skin to flood blue.

“I think it’s Danny,” Daughter says softly. That name stings him, but Phantom doesn’t think Daughter means to hurt him. She, Phantom still likes. She looks at him when he shows, looks at him like someone is concerned, even if she cries harder than ever nowadays (maybe Phantom is just awake to see it more, but he notes the constant redness of eyes and face is new, so maybe not). She doesn’t destroy his messages, just stares. Not helpful in the least, he notes sarcastically, plucking at the invisible yet black (—how can it be both? How can he be two things that are so opposite and parallel?) jumpsuit of his (how can it exist when he never can exist, so many hows).

“That isn’t Danny,” the Parents cement, and Phantom frowns. The name stings again, the scorpion sitting perched upon a rib and taking personal offence to that person. Who is Danny?

xXx

Watching the old man is tiring and boring. Phantom doesn’t have enough energy to reach him, to say help me (because the old man has the glint and that has to mean something) so he decides to change that.

When he sleeps, he dreams of so many glinting things. Flickering figures of the Family and the Teens that visit sometimes. But they are just ghosts of memories.

xXx

It is in the night when he wakes up, green eyes staring at the silver pool moon, pleased as he ever is staring at those stars.

A breath passes his lips, and his nonexistent form shudders. Someone—!

“You must change back,” the ghost he saw in glints of the old man says. Belatedly, he introduces— “I am Plasmius, and I am… like you.”

“You see me,” Phantom murmurs, breath foggy. No, that isn’t right. The ghost is squinting in general directions, as though Phantom is a glimmer in his eye. Phantom is a glimmer in his own eye in the mirror, so he understands.

“You are... foggy,” the blue ghost amends, confirming Phantom’s thoughts. “Something about you is wrong.”

“Thanks,” Phantom says sarcastically (a new ability, a new joke that he loves), “tell me something I don’t know.”

“What happened to you?” the ghost asks.

“I woke up,” Phantom says bluntly. “I’m here now. They won’t help me.”

“Their son— they ignored their son?”

“They have a Son?” Phantom’s eyes flutter— “is he the lost one?”

xXx

The ghost went back to flickering inside the old man, because the Mother charged in.

“Oh,” she sighed, “it’s just you.”

“Yes,” he says, and he glimmers and shows fangs and horns, “just me.”

Phantom does not like the way he is looking at the Mother, but he’s not that good at judging subtleties in people still, so he lets that feeling pass.

xXx

The next… Phantom isn’t sure if it’s the day, he fell asleep, but his naps are less and less, so he feels safe in calling it the next day… the next day, the ghost flickers out of the old man to float with him again.

“How do you do that?” Phantom wonders. Is it the key to not being seen, to guise oneself as one of them, as not dead?

“You should be able to do it, too,” the ghost mutters, “I see it in you.”

“The blue eyes and the black hair,” Phantom breathes. Like a bird feather that shows green at an angle, so too does his other, and this ghost is the same.

“But you are unstable,” Plasmius informs in a frown. “You never settled into one world, so you are stuck unable to traverse between them.”

Phantom blinks, confused, and Plasmius heaves a sigh of thin patience.

“You flicker a lot more than I do,” he informs bluntly, in a tone that suggests perhaps Phantom is an idiot. “And,” he tacks on, more contemplatively, “you seem to not remember anything, as though you’ve separated yourself from that essential connection.”

“Connection,” Phantom echoes, and he yearns for that connection. His entire soul keens for it, to fill that hole.

“Yes Danny,” Plasmius grunts, and that scorpion strikes again, “a connection.”

“I’m Phantom,” he defends, tapping at his ribs like he can knock the stinging creature off, away from his vulnerable chest.

“You’re both,” Plasmius says.

“Danny is the other?” Phantom asks.

“The blue eyes and the black hair? Yes. He is your glint, and he is the lost one, and he is just you.”

“Oh,” Phantom breathes, and the scorpion is writhing and striking his heart and itself and his ribs and— and—

He passes out, green eyes going out like a light.

—But the flickers, the flickers finger around him, crawling over his form like electricity for a moment, and his form is a patchwork of two, and his mind is a flood of memory.

xXx

“I defeated the ghost, last night, and he gave me your son,” Plasmius’ old-man voice rings.

And Phantom is Danny and Danny is Phantom— and as usual he sleeps. Memories came in dreams, an eruption after so long of being dammed, brought forth at simple acceptance. Despite the dreaming, or rather because of it, he is achingly tired, with zero energy.

This time, his family (the Family, the same) surrounds him in warmth, in that thread of connection, and inside, in more normal and soft dreams, he feels something become filled.

The scorpion crawls away into the soft, soft snow.

#dp #phicphight #phic phight #phicphight20 #danny phantom #phanfic #my writing #phic phight 2020 #quill

[gingerpeachtae]

Concentric [18]

masterlist

Words: 4.3k

Genres: fantasy!AU, angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, eventual smut (?)

Warnings: n/a

Summary: You had been ready for the end of the semester. You had been ready to spend time away from your best friend, Jimin, and finally move on from the feelings you harbored. Yet, after your friend was forced to reveal a secret, you found yourself in a new world that was chock full of magic, war, and wonder. So, here you were, basically thrown into your own fantasy novel, with your best friend on one side, and six male warriors on the other.

A/N: Everyone say thank you to my momma’s moonshine for helping my writing juices flow lol. Pls engoy! 💙 

“And every single day you make me want you even more.”

His words echoed in your head. Overwhelmed every other thought. Consumed your mind.

Three hours later and you still couldn’t think of anything else.

Not when the boy who said those very words had his arms wrapped around you as he slept soundly. His front pressed against your back. His legs tangled with yours. His warm breath fanning across your neck and shoulder.

“And every single day you make me want you even more.”

You smiled softly to yourself as you recalled how shy he had gotten after confessing. How his cheeks had flushed, and his peridot eyes had widened. The way he had pulled back from you to stammer out a nervous apology as you stared at him in silent shock.

But before he could utter one more ‘oh my goddess, I’m so sorry sweetheart,’ you had grabbed his face in your hands and pressed your lips against his.

Gently. Slowly.

Until he had seemed to understand that you weren’t mad at him and he eagerly reciprocated.

“And every single day you make me want you even more.”

Raising your hand, you grazed your fingertips over your lips and let out a shaky exhale as you remembered how the kiss had turned much more urgent and passionate after that. Full of tongues and teeth and heady breaths.

Eventually, Jungkook had placed one final, prolonged kiss to your lips and, in a raspy voice that made you want to push him down and crawl on top of him, had told you that you both should get back to camp. He had even joked that his brothers might think he had murdered you if you didn’t show up soon. You had rolled your eyes and shoved him lightly for his comment while giggling. In response, he had caught your hand and leaned in to capture your swollen lips once more… but stopped halfway.

His eyes had flickered up from your mouth to meet your puzzled, lidded gaze and his shoulders had drooped slightly. He had begun pouting in the moonlight, muttering to himself about how he didn’t want to go but how he also didn’t want his brothers to show up and interrupt the two of you. While you bit your lip to keep from laughing at the cute burgundy head, he had groaned and reluctantly stood up from the cliff’s edge. Which meant you had involuntarily followed suit since your hand was still caught in his. Once you were on your feet again, his fingers had linked through yours and tightened their grip. Sending you a soft smile, he had tucked some of your hair behind your ear, causing a fluttering feeling to erupt in your heart.

Then, with stars twinkling above your head and tingles surging within your body, you had maneuvered yourself onto his back and crossed your arms over his chest. After verifying that you were good and bracing his hands underneath your thighs, he had stepped back into the trees. Trading the cliff’s edge and clear view of the moon for a seemingly endless maze of trees and shadows.

Both of you had stayed quiet throughout the walk back, simply enjoying the other’s presence instead of talking. Though, if you were being honest, you had had no idea what to say anyway. Part of you had thought you were dreaming, it all seemed too unreal. And if it was a dream, you didn’t want to wake up anytime soon, so you had just snuggled further into Jungkook’s warm body. Breathing in his intoxicating scent and feeling the strong, comforting beating of his heart beneath your palms as he continued to make his way back to camp without a sound.

By the time the dark outline of the temple appeared, the moon had risen high in the sky and most of the Saeni were already tucked in the for the night. As Jungkook walked over toward your sleeping mats, you saw three figures lounging by the still-burning fire. The flames and moon had both been just bright enough to allow you to make out that it was Yoongi, Hobi, and Jin. You had waved to the trio while Jungkook simply nodded his head in their direction. In the flickering firelight, you caught sight of Yoongi and Hobi smirking at you and although there was no way of them knowing what had just occurred between you and their brother you had still buried your face into Jungkook’s back, feeling embarrassed for some reason.

You had heard their chuckles at your reaction mix in with the clicking of bugs and whistling of wind as Jungkook finally made it to where your things were. The Saeni had lowered you down gently and once your feet were safely on the ground, he had turned around to face you and stepped closer so his chest was brushing against yours. In the low light of the night, you could just make out his features and you had wrapped your arms around his lean torso as you fought off a yawn that had suddenly attacked you. He had scrunched his nose and shook his head at you fondly before tugging you down to lay on top of your mats. Letting out a moan at the heavenly feeling, you had flopped around, trying to find a comfortable position as Jungkook just watched you with a smile. Your movements had caused Tae to stir, and the grey-haired Saeni shifted, murmuring your name and going to cuddle you as he usually did in his sleep. But just as he had placed one arm on your tummy, Jungkook had made a noise suspiciously reminiscent of a growl and threw his brother’s hand off. With a huff, he had brought you closer to him and folded your bodies together. The action had made your breath hitch and your heart to thud crazily as he secured you in his arms.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart. We’ll talk in the morning,” he had whispered in your ear.

Soon after, his breaths had evened out and you were left alone with a brain that wouldn’t shut off.

“Because of this.”

“You have no idea what you do to me.”

“You’re the most beautiful flower I’ve ever seen.”

“Every single day you make me want you even more.”

But… what did he mean by talk in the morning?

You sighed and peered up at the dark sky for what must have been the millionth time tonight. You tried everything to calm yourself down so you could get some sleep. Counting the stars. Focusing on the symphony of wind dancing through tree leaves. Timing your breaths to Jungkook’s slow, heavy ones. But nothing was working. You were too wound up.

“And every single day you make me want you even more.”

He said he wants me, but he didn’t say in what way…

He only said he was attracted to me… but that could mean that he still doesn’t actually like me the way I like him…

Fuck, you were tired. But you just couldn’t stop thinking.

About his lips, handsome face, or beautiful voice. Or his words that both elated you and left you in this confused, worried state.

Am I getting my hopes up for nothing?

You wished you could just flop onto your stomach and dig your head into the ground in frustration, but you couldn’t move much within Jungkook’s steel embrace. Your eyes darted around aimlessly, searching for something that could finally ease your mind and let sleep overtake you. Failing to find that magical thing, you released an annoyed exhale and wiggled and wormed until you managed to face the male holding you. With effort, you were able to free one of your arms from its muscle-y constraints and you lifted it until your hand was only mere inches away Jungkook’s face. The moonlight kissed his features, highlighting his cheekbone and making his earrings shimmer faintly.

Gently, you traced the extension of his elongated ear and followed the curve of his jaw with your fingertips. “You have no idea what you do to me either…”

As hundreds of draikensu marched through the night, Amarok watched them pass with a content expression. His wolves were prowling throughout the ranks, watching intently for anyone to step out of line. If they did, they would become the predators’ next meal.

Amarok crossed his arms over his chest. Although he had been furious to hear the key was still alive, he was delighted because it meant he would be the one to severe the lifeforce from the boy. And doing so would bring him immense pleasure. Soon, he would kill the key for his master and the driakensu would execute anyone who defied them as they took over Illain in Uzjuk’s name. Amarok’s lips twisted into a satisfied smile. The world would finally be in the state it was to meant to be in.

Chaos.

Uzjuk taught him the genuine nature of the world. How anarchy is the true way of things. Adjusting the straps of his weapons, he tightened them harshly as he recalled the snow, smoke, and pain. The blood, claws, and revenge. The cave, pups, and appearance of his master. The beginning of his awakening to the true order of the world. To the demanding truth of all that Uzjuk stood for.

As Amarok remembered the savagery of that winter, a frozen talon abruptly scraped against his mind, causing a chilling shiver to trail down his spine. Alerting him of his master’s arrival  The shadows caused by the moonlight expanded and pulsed, curling down towards the male and surrounding him as he closed his eyes and welcomed the wispy darkness.

“Master.”

“Why hasn’t the key been disposed of yet?” His master’s raw and hoarse voice echoed in Amarok’s mind.

The male sighed, knowing his master was not happy. “I shall deal with the boy myself. The magic tracker Eltoc placed on him when he first arrived back in Illain has not faded so we still know his location.”

“Well, deal with him quickly.” His master hissed impatiently. “And don’t disappoint me.”

Amarok raised a brow. “When have I?”

An all too familiar pain erupted in the male’s mind, gouging and searing. Though it was more agonizing than previous times. Hotter, deeper, more intense.

“Don’t get cheeky with me. Only a portion of my will may be able to invade this world, but my presence is growing stronger every day.”

The darkness swirled around Amarok wildly as the pain drilled further into his mind, making his vision blur. Gritting his teeth, the male endured the pain for one, two, three more seconds until his master released him.

As Amarok caught his breath, his master croaked out, “I tried latching onto the mind of one of the key’s companions again.”

“Were you successful?”

“No. I didn’t have enough time to work my way in before he was woken.” Uzjuk growled in annoyance.

“What a shame. That would have made things quite easy.” Amarok returned his gaze to the draikensu making their way past and sneered. “But this way will be more fun.”

Jungkook hovered over you, his hands placed at either side of your head he leaned down ever so slowly, teasing you. You arched upwards, aching to reach his body. To touch his lips. To have him ruin you.

He chuckled deeply, pleased to see you so desperate for him.

Ghosting his lips against your jawline, you mewled and tilted your chin to give him more access to your skin as he settled between your hips. He rocked against you lightly and attacked your neck with his sensual mouth, making you crave him even more. But suddenly he collapsed his body on top of you, the drop of his weight causing you to grunt and gasp for air. Then he began to poke your sides.

“Wake up, little scorja!”

Huh?

Jungkook wrapped his arms around you and snuggled into your form whilst still poking you.

What the fuc-

Your eyes popped open at a particularly hard jab, and you saw a tuft of grey hair underneath your chin instead of burgundy.

Tae.

“Little scorja it’s time to get up!” His voice was muffled by your chest.

You sighed and lifted a hand drowsily to pat his head. “Mmmmmorning TaeTae… now get off me, you’re heavy.”

And you ruined my good dream dammit. You pouted internally.

With a sulky expression, the male rolled off you and cuddled into your side. “Where did you and Kookie go last night? You were gone for a while…”

Heat rushed to your cheeks as you coughed and looked up into the light blue, cloudy sky.

Shit, should I tell him? He’ll most definitely blab to his brothers, but if I don’t tell him, he’ll get so sad…

“Um, he told me that you all wanted to make me an honorary kiela member.” You paused briefly, taking a deep breath to brace yourself, before continuing. “And he, uh, alsomayhavekissedme… anyway, wow, what time is it? Let’s get something to eat!”

You went to get up, but has hand darted out and gripped your arm strongly, ensuring you weren’t going anywhere.

“He WHAT!?”

You peeked over at the male and saw that he had his head propped up with his free hand and his blue eyes were shining. His mouth, which was initially dropped open in surprise morphed to display his signature wide, boxy smile.

You couldn’t help but smile back at the endearing sight, but then you pursed your lips in uncertainty. “He… yeah, we kissed… but we haven’t talked about it yet, so don’t say anything, okay?”

He puffed out his cheeks with air as if he had to physically restrain himself from asking more, but after a few seconds he blew the air out and nodded. You gifted him a kiss on his cheek and pulled your backpack over to you so you could dig out your daily petals.

As you shivered from the assault of their magic, you tapped Tae’s shoulder. “Where is he anyway? We’re supposed to talk this morning.”

Whatever that means.

Tae’s blue eyes widened dramatically, and he quickly, but gently ushered you to stand as he informed you that Jungkook was with Yoongi getting something ready for the marking, the rest of the hyungs were waiting for you to arrive at the ceremony location, Mingi was watching Jiae, and Chungha was interrogating the draikensu prisoner.

“Oh, that poor bastard. Chungha’s probabl-wait. Did you say waiting at the ceremony location!? It’s today!?”

You blinked at Tae, who rapidly nodded. “Yup! I was in charge of bringing you and we’re going there now! Yoongi hyung said it would be better to do it sooner rather than later since it’ll help heal you.”

“I-now-what-hold on-Tae!”

But the Saeni already began dragging you into the trees. Though, in his excitement, he must’ve forgotten about your injured leg that still wasn’t completely healed because he was flat-out booking it. You did your best to keep up with him and not trip over every tree root you came across, but it wasn’t very elegant. Luckily, he didn’t take you very far into the forest, so you only had to aggressively penguin waddle for just a minute or so.

Through the greenery and shrubs up ahead, you saw the kiela, minus Yoongi and Jungkook, standing in a tiny, open space. As you and Tae broke through the trees, they all turned and smiled, though a certain apricot head hastily looked down at the ground after you met his gaze.

Jimin…

Your own smile faltered as you watched him avoid your eyes, but Hobi rushed over and tackled you into a hug before you could say anything.

“Hey there, little scorja. Kook told you what this is all for, right? I mean, you two were gone for a good while, so he had to have mentioned it. Unless, of course, you got preoccupied with other things…” He leaned back and winked at you, a teasing glint in his light brown eyes.

Your eyes widened and you felt like squeaking under his mischievous gaze, so you shoved him away fast, but he just laughed and took out a knife to fiddle with.

“He told me!” You said and crossed your arms defiantly.

Hobi began walking backwards away from you while waggling his brows. “Must have been quite the long and detailed explanation.”

He twirled his blade and used the hilt to scratch an itch on his silver-white head while pivoting on his heels and walking over to Jimin, not allowing you the opportunity to make a retort. While he lightly punched Jimin’s shoulder, Namjoon and Jin came over to greet you, both of them loudly exclaiming how excited they were to have you as part of the kiela. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Tae not so slyly skirt around you and jog over to Hobi and Jimin to whisper in their ears.

That little… for fuck’s sake, he really is the biggest gossip head I’ve ever met.

With a disappointed, yet not surprised type of sigh, you brought your eyes back to the two males before you and smiled sweetly as you told them how honored you felt as well as how thankful you were to have met and befriended them all. The three of you continued to talk while the clouds lazily floated by high above you until the two remaining members of the kiela finally showed up.

You saw Yoongi first, who just gave you a curt nod before making his way over to Tae, Jimin, and Hobi. The three Saeni grabbed his arm when he got close and yanked him into their little circle, no doubt spilling the new tea regarding you and Jungkook.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Speaking of the devil, you turned and saw him standing a few feet away from you, shifting back and forth on his feet as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“H-Hey,” you stammered out shyly, not really sure how you should act with him.

Should I be casual? How can I even be casual after last night? Should I ask him about it? Though this really doesn’t seem like the right time…

At your nervous response, his green eyes lit up and he sent you a cocky smile while dropping the hand from behind his neck and approaching you.

The morning sunlight gleamed off his burgundy hair, emphasizing the pink highlights. Though there wasn’t the usual metallic glint coming from his ears. Cocking your head to the side, you wondered where two of the earrings from his left side had gone.

“What happened to-”

“Alrighty,” Yoongi clapped his hands together, causing sparks of blue to flare up, and walked over to you. “Just in case our Kookie did a shit job explaining-”

“Hyung.” Jungkook whined.

“-I will graciously explain it as well.” Yoongi finished without even glancing at his youngest brother.

The magic user looked to you. “Since you have proven your skills on the battlefield, saved some of our sorry asses, become part of our tiny family, and other sappy shit I’m not going to say, we would like to make you an honorary member of the kiela. Do you accept?”

You blinked. That was… a very Yoongi way of putting things.

You felt Jungkook nudge you.

“Oh, uh, yes. I accept.”

Yoongi nodded and continued. “To induct you, Jungkook is sharing part of his draeva connection with you. The mark will be on the back of your neck. In addition to becoming connected to Illain and receiving heightened senses from the mark, I am also infusing it with the petal magic, so you won’t need to take them anymore.”

Well, that’s gonna be mighty convenient.

“So… what do I need to do?” You asked, not entirely sure how this whole magic connection thing actually worked.

Yoongi instructed you to just stand still and look directly into Jungkook’s eyes. They would take care of the rest.

That’s… easy. I can do that.

As Jungkook positioned himself in front of you, the kiela spread out into a semi-circle behind you. Yoongi stayed at your side and began cracking his knuckles and stretching his arms. After catching your glance, he shrugged and mumbled something about not wanting to get a cramp.

“You need to look at me for this to work.”

You returned your gaze to Jungkook, who had his arms crossed and you noticed his jaw tick once. Rolling your eyes, you stuck your tongue out at him, and the action made him blow out a puff of air. If you weren’t mistaken, he also tried to hide a tiny smile because he pressed his lips together firmly after expelling the air. But before you could comment on it, the wind suddenly picked up and sent some of your hair flying. And of course, a few strands got caught in your mouth. You went to push your hair out of your face, but Jungkook stepped closer and softly brushed the strands away for you. His peridot eyes lingered on your lips, and you swear you saw them dilate a bit as they flickered back up to yours. The world seemed to pause around you and all you could see was green. Green trees and green eyes. You wanted to get lost in it.

The sound of a clearing throat startled you back to reality and you felt your face grow warm for getting a little lost in Jungkook with everyone around you. You whispered an apology to Yoongi as Jungkook also cleared his throat and moved his hand under your hair, so his palm rested on the back of your neck.

It was utterly silent in the small clearing besides the sounds of your and Jungkook’s breathing and the natural sounds of the forest. Shadows danced across Jungkook’s face as the leaves swayed in the wind and you admired the way it made the green of his eyes appear even lighter as you stared into them.

Yoongi took a deep breath, and it hit you that you were actually about to do this, and you had no idea how it was going to affect you and holy shit what if it killed your ass?

Uh, death registration? It’s me… again. Don’t know if you’ve gotten my previous messages but here’s a new one.

“Wait wait wait!” You gasped out and Jungkook looked at you in concern. “Um, what if the mark harms me since I’m not Saeni? Since it’s not intended for humans? I’ve read The Mortal Instruments, you know, and I don’t want to become an unforsaken zombie thing!”

Jungkook pursed his lips as Yoongi rolled his pink eyes. Behind you, Tae softly asked what a zombie was and Jimin told him not to worry about it since it was ‘just another human thing.’

“Y/N, if that were the case, you would have been hurt the first time you took a petal back on Earth. It’ll be fine.”

“O-Okay.”

“Don’t be scared sweetheart.” Jungkook smiled at you and you let out a breath, feeling yourself relax, trusting him completely. “I got you.”

You took one more deep breath and nodded, signaling to Yoongi that you were ready. The magic user then placed his hand over Jungkook’s at your nape and began murmuring.

You continued gazing directly into peridot eyes as the back of your neck began to get warm…

Then hot…

Then scorching.

You started to pant as the heat drifted over your skin and sunk down into your body, making you wince in discomfort.

“You’re okay… I got you.” Jungkook whispered reassuringly, though his own voice sounded a little strained.

Then your vision darkened and darkened and darkened until the galaxy you see every time you taken the pink petal exploded behind your eyes. But it was much more vivid than it had ever been before. More bright. More alive. You could feel the universe moving beneath your fingertips as if it were a ripple in a pond. You could hear the stars scream, the moons sob, and the comets sing. Could see all the cosmos intertwine and separate from one another. Constantly mingling and parting. And then they crashed over you. You gasped at the cool feeling, reminiscent of an ocean wave. Slowly, it transformed into a heavy, warm, and comforting blanket. It draped over you. Enwrapped your entire being. You smelled your favorite homecooked meal. Tasted the sweetest fruit on your tongue. Heard the tinkering of rain and the sound of masculine laughter. Felt the euphoria of being content with yourself and being held in someone’s arms.

The heat in your body travelled until it was all collected at your nape. Then, as it began to fade, so did the galaxy and comforting feelings. It all dimmed and dimmed and dimmed until your vision cleared.

But it was different.

More vivid. More bright. More alive.

Everything was sharper. Your sight, hearing, smell, touch. You blinked slowly, trying to process all these new sensations.

You inhaled and through the sweet air and dewiness of the morning, you could easily make out the scent of florets and steel as well as an unfamiliar but familiar combination of ashes and smoke that reminded you of a certain magic user.

The sunlight was even more radiant and as you gazed into Jungkook’s peridot eyes, you could see flecks of gold you hadn’t noticed before.

You could hear him swallow dryly through his labored breathing as he returned your stare.

Could feel his heartbeat through his fingertips at the back of your neck.

And if you focused beyond all of that, you could still faintly feel the expanse of the universe, as if its energy was thrumming through you.

In a way, you guess it was. You were now connected to it all.

To the universe.

To Illain.

To Jungkook. 

And you never wanted it to fade away.

previous [17] — next [19]

taglist: @cookied-dreams @apurpledheart @james-herondale023 @lorengarcia-yut @kittycuptea @toddsgirl27 @a-feeling-of-euphoria @treatpeoplewithkindnesshoe @kthdior @taigaajin​ @lylanie12​ @kassandravictoria​

#concentric #cherryseoulmates #bts #bts fic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts fantasy au #Jungkook angst #bts enemies to lovers #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jjk x reader #bts jungkook x reader #jjk #jungkook #bts jungguk #jeon jungkook #bts ot7 #ot7 x reader #ot7 x you #jimin #yoongi #taehyung #namjoon #jin #hoseok

[save-the-spiral]

Can you use the random word generator to generate three words, then write a story about an OC of yours who could reasonably fit all three? If you do, thanks :)

Generated Words: Crouch, House, Share. (word generator)

Made a direct continuation of a zombie apocalypse drabble I wrote two years ago, oops! (link to that) I continued it and added on, fleshing out the world and adding in characters of mine >:3

Content warnings for blood, guns, zombies, apocalypse scenarios, implied child abuse, medical stuff mention, and I did accidentally write a tiny gross bit about how bad zombies smell, oops. 

"Thanks again." Haley said.

"No problem! My group tries to help out anyone we can find." Irisi, a tall, lithe woman with pale brown skin and many freckles, was standing confidently, rifle slung over her back, the strap bisecting her heavy trench coat and leather vest underneath. Small dark stains on the coat revealed how she hadn't always been up in a perch when fighting zombies.

"But still-!" Noah was still breathing heavily, eyes fixed on the woman. "You didn't have to, so thanks, really. I don't know what I'd do without Haley."

Haley blushed, turning to look at the horizon. "So, you've got a group?" She changed the subject.

Irisi perked up even more. "Yeah, my dad, my girlfriend, and her brother and dad. Our dads were doctors- a surgeon and family doctor. The rest of us know basic first aid too- that's how we help people, we know our ways around hospitals too, so we've got a stockpile of supplies."  

“Sounds like a good set up.” Noah said blankly. “Well, we should get going, we’re heading across the city-”

“No-!” Irisi cut him off, then awkwardly shuffled in place before talking again. “I mean, you can stay with us. We found this gated community, we cleared it all out- so you can come pick a house and stay.” 

Haley snorted now, mouth twisting into a scowl. “What’s the catch?” 

“Catch?” Irisi’s amber eyes caught the light of the sunset, and she squinted at Haley.

“Yeah. Catch.” Haley’s eyes flashed with anger as she stepped forward, Noah automatically moving behind her, unknowingly in sync. “Nothing in this world is free anymore, Irisi.” 

The unspoken knowledge that the world didn’t give a fuck about fairness made Noah want to sigh and just take a year long nap, but it wasn’t the time for that. Maybe later.

“I-” Irisi bit her lip, turning away. “I don’t know what you want me to say here. My group does our best to not hurt or take advantage of others unless provoked. We could meet outside of our base first, if that made you feel better? We wouldn’t have a home advantage or anything?” 

“Fine.” Haley relented, all gratitude gone now, taking her endless anger out on a stranger as opposed to her brother, the only person she cared about nowadays.

Noah stepped in, "There's a cleared out diner two streets away, with the most god awful gold and blue booths inside. We can meet there."

Irisi simply nodded, eyes darting to look at Haley with a new wariness, and ran off, hopping from roof to roof carefully.

"Stop acting like a bitch, Haley." Noah muttered sharply, hefting his golf club back over his shoulder and turning, looking down at the alleyway they had escaped from. The dozen zombies were now feasting on the one Irisi shot. His lip curled with disgust as the undead ripped open their fallen ally, the stench of rotten innards and whatever the zombie had stuffed inside itself now wafting upwards. 

The more recent ones smelled even worse in his opinion, but that's just the combination of fruits and vegetables and whatever processed crap people scavenged and rotted meat. 

"We'll have to get down to the diner, Noah." Haley finally said, her voice small and apologetic in a way that meant more than any 'sorry'. 

"Sure thing, Hales." The nickname was an indicator that everything is okay, so when Noah turned to look at his twin, her shoulders were relaxing slightly. 

Making their way through the streets in early spring was a dichotomy of soft white and pink petals and dried brown splashes of blood, both resting on the concrete and only one temporary. The wind whistled through bare limbs of trees and broken windows, it sent ash and flakes of rust off of the cars that had long been pushed aside to create a clear path down the main boulevard for anyone lucky enough to get a working vehicle. 

In their silence they walk down the middle of the street, cautious of zombies in those cars and in alleyways. In these cities there was a tendency to be so many things that used to be people, especially if they hadn’t been evacuated, and instead quarantined. It hadn't worked, because it could take weeks, even months, for the disease to set in and show any symptoms. So before they knew it an entire city could be dead people walking. 

Sure, they made a vaccine. It worked pretty well, considering the alternative was dying and then becoming a monster. There was too much panic, and no one wanted to trust it. They deluded themselves into thinking that they could play apocalypse as opposed to trusting science and logic.

Noah and Haley had been watching it happen, sitting side by side in matching dresses they hated, glued to a television that gave updates to their area, their little generator working overtime, cautious of the mandatory lights out that the quarantined areas enforced. They watched the live footage of a mob storming the lab producing the vaccine, they watched as researchers and interns and students ran out of the building as it caught fire.

They watched the last hope of humanity go up in smoke, both of them guilty because they had been vaccinated just weeks before, a bonus for their mother being a good soldier, keeping peace in their little city district.

Considering how everything played out in the end, the only thing you could get out of the twins about their mother that didn’t end in breaking things or panic attacks was the fact that she was a good soldier.

Even then it would set Noah on edge, teetering, and would make Haley clench her fists so hard her tendons become frayed piano strings.

Noah was brought back to reality with a subtle shift, Haley’s knuckles brushing against the hairs on his bicep when she pointed to their destination, likely knowing of Noah’s contemplative mood. Noah was a half step behind her, golf club over one shoulder and the other holding onto the one untorn strap of his backpack. With every step he was reminded of the pistol shoved into the back of his jeans, how it had been without ammunition for weeks.

Haley had a metal baseball bat held loosely in her left hand, adjusting her jean jacket and frowning as another waft of something rancid hit them. They shared a look with the same expression, wrinkled noses and a grimace, then a shared smile at the reminder that they are two sides of one coin, even if it is long out of rotation currency, left in the bottom of a junk drawer with useless keys and forgotten things. 

The glass door into the diner was completely broken, traces of old blood on the shards in front of the door and on what little remained in the frame. Long dead neon signs and ragged flyers caked in dirt both decorate the wide and grimy windows. 

The diner was empty, and Haley promptly flopped down in a booth, sending up a cloud of dust and all kinds of likely hazardous spores. With a cough she turned around, resting on her back and letting her head fall off of the edge. Her hair barely touched the filthy linoleum, and she shifted for a moment before closing her eyes, resting but unable to sleep and render herself vulnerable.

Noah sat on the table of that booth, between his twin and the door, and kept watch.

It only took half an hour until he saw people. A group crossed the empty street, Irisi at the lead and pointing towards Noah, who waved lazily and tapped on the table to get Haley up. With a short, stifled gasp, Haley sat up slowly, eyes narrowed. Noah made eye contact with her so she could gage the situation, and seeing his relaxed posture and only slight nervousness, she relaxed as well, hand reaching for her bat nonetheless. 

The hinges creaked as Irisi pushed open the door, holding it like a gentleman for her group. An older man with a wispy white beard and spotted skin the color of teak wood walked in first, back hunched slightly over his cane. Following him was a pale asian boy with blue hair, a turtleneck, and glasses, who stared at them accusingly and had a hand over a holstered gun at his hip. Then a friendlier face entered, the shorter and older asian man nodding at them, but quickly moving to ensure the oldest man got a stable seat. The last to enter was a very short girl dressed in a leather jacket and a sneer, combat boots crunching savagely against the broken glass on the floor. Her wavy hair was half shaved, the other side just reaching her chin and she watched them with a similar glare to the boy’s. However, she had no gun, just a well used wooden baseball bat and an array of knives in what could’ve once been a bandolier.

The fathers, the girlfriend, and the girlfriend’s brother. Charming. 

“Hi, Noah. Haley.” Irisi said, letting the door swing shut. 

“Hi.” Noah smiled weakly. “Nice to see you without the gang of zombies about to murder us.”

Irisi huffed, smiling. “Yeah.” She hopped to sit on a table across from them, so they could look each other in the eye. The older man, seated in the booth for the table, placed a hand on hers and smiled shakily. “Oh! So this is my dad, Alhazred.”

“Nice to meet you.” Haley muttered, nodding.

Irisi began pointing to the other three, who were seated at the bar by the window, facing the rest of them. She pointed to the short girl with dark skin. “That’s Mari, my girlfriend. She’s best with up close and personal stuff, and first aid on the field. That’s Emrys, her brother and our best with handguns- and generally being a badass.” The boy with blue hair gave a short wave, then turned back to the window to watch the street. “Then that’s Quyen, Emrys and Mari’s dad, and the best with big problems, generally makes sure the rest of us aren’t idiots.” 

“I’ve never done anything wrong in my life.” Mari deadpanned, an obvious lie if her brother’s derisive snort was anything to go by. 

“Yes dear.” Irisi smirked, then turned back to Haley and Noah. “You two seem capable, and you did grab what was probably the last pharmacy supplies in the city, so I’m thinking you guys staying a while is the least we can do if we split the meds.” 

Haley turned slightly, catching Noah’s eye. She was not on board at all. 

Noah raised his eyebrows, making it clear that two backpacks instead of one full of medicine was not worth it. Not when they could potentially have a place to go back to if they needed, and maybe extra necessities if they leave on good terms.

Haley rolled her eyes, and turned back to the ragtag family. “That’s fine. As long as we both look through it and make sure it’s fair. By the end it got chaotic and I sure as hell don’t need like, fifteen boxes of laxatives or whatever when the other bag is full of painkillers.” 

Noah huffed, smiling and amused at her dry tone. If Haley still weren’t shaken by their close call she would probably have argued and made a scene just for the hell of it.

Quyen nodded, a slight smile on his face. “That sounds more than fair.” 

Haley’s shoulders relaxed subtly, the tension in her clenched jaw gone, her hand on the table grabbing at the thick fabric of the hoodie Noah had tied around his waist. A faded pink thing with blood splatters and stains decorating it like a modern painting.

“Yeah. Fair.” Haley said quietly, unable to eye the strange adult with anything but distrust. 

Noah made the big move this time, moving a hand off of his golf club and setting it on Haley’s, gripping it loosely until she twisted her wrist to interlock their fingers comfortably. Undoubtedly, every person in the room noticed, but he didn’t have it in him to care.

This might be the first good group they had found since setting out on their own. They seem kind, reliable. 

A family. A good one. A real one. 

After all Noah and Haley had been through, they deserved that, at least.

“So when do we move in?” Noah asked, smiling. 

#ask #anon #anonymous #writing #my ocs #ocs #Noah Dreamtamer #Haley Raintamer #Irisi #Mahamari Jade #Alhazred #Wizard101 Alhazred #Emrys Pyre #Serpentine King #have I mentioned his real name is actually Quyen bc its actually vietnemese lol #Quyen Jade #ask prompt

[thethespacecoyote]

If you're still taking prompts, I would love any of the Huxlings interrupting Hux during Very Important Diplomat Time. The Huxlings give me life.

I hope this is okay! I thought to use Leander, because he would definitely be the one to interrupt the most....

Hux is on day two of negotiations with the visiting Celanite traders, and he’s about ready to rip his hair out and toss his circlet upon the floor.

He knew they would be difficult, especially considering what Hux is trying to get them to agree to—sole rights to a recent, bountiful source of rock ivory, perfect for the new armada of destroyers his empire is trying to get off the ground—but even he didn’t realize they’d be this obstinate. His patience is wearing thin by the second, and the beige coloring of the meeting room walls is starting to make him sick.

Once Hux’s through with this, he’ll have to redecorate the entire place, to at least give him something noteworthy to look at when when particularly difficult dignitaries decide to chase negotiations around in circles.

But it isn’t just their stubbornness with respect to the actual business at hand that’s bothering Hux. He can deal with hard-headed middlemen, his sharp tongue when it comes to talking his way into what he wants. But deliberate, personal slights are an entirely different matter to contend with.

Celanites, as it turns out, lack the three-type biology common to other humanoids, but even so they know of Hux’s status, the fact that he’d been the one to birth his children, and they very clearly think less of him for it. Hux had caught one of them speaking under his breath, a word Hux wishes he didn’t know in their language—sh’yulka.

Breeder.

“It’s simply not intelligent for us to constrain our exports to one power.” The head of the Celanite contingent sniffs at the air, triangular ears pointed up straight and alert. “Surely you can comprehend our reticence.”

“Of course I can,” Hux says, doing his best to hide the bristling he feels beneath his official raiment. He doesn’t like this one’s tone, there’s something more there than a voice just unused to the Basic tongue. “But I can assure you and your leaders that you’ll be compensated handsomely for the rights. You won’t be lacking in funds, as there’s none in the galaxy that can enrich your planet the way the Empire can.”

“The Empire is also known for taking advantage of exclusive trading rights, draining all influence and benefit from their alleged partners.” The Celanite looks past his long, wispy eyebrows and down a long snout at Hux, as he’s done since the very moment they met. He keeps sniffing, too, as if to affirm to himself that a man of little concern. Hux finds it irritating—are these greedy dogs so conceited they haven’t heard of his conquests? How he claimed the First Order, then the galaxy for himself, and defended that claim against all insurrection and discontent? Perhaps they assume Hux has others working behind the scenes, propping him up as a puppet and an appealing face.

“I assure you, the Empire has no intention of deceiving its allies, so long as the terms of any agreement are adhered to—“

“Maybe there are others you should bring in to speak with us, Emperor Hux?” The golden-furred dignitary to his right speaks, leaning his chin forward on a paw-like hand. “It may help to move things along if we were to conference with someone who better understands our kind.”

Hux opens his mouth to reply, perhaps covertly reprimand the Celanite for his disrespect just to release a little of his own frustration, when the door to the meeting room suddenly bangs open, followed by a loud, distraught wail of:

“Mummy!”

Each of the Celanites grunt in unison, their ears perking up at the abrupt noise. Hux whirls around in his seat, eyes immediately trained on the little child now toddling in through the swinging door, scent and voice immediately recognizable to the emperor It’s Leander, one of his middle children, dressed in his napping robes and squeezing a pale yellow blanket tight to his chest. His reddish hair is a mess, as is his face—puffy, streaked with tears.

The two guards that’d been ordered to watch the door peer sheepishly into the meeting room, clearly apprehensive of laying a hand on one of the imperial children. And while Hux doesn’t want them manhandling any of his pups under any circumstances, he almost wishes they’d done more to stop Leander, as this truly is the worst time his son could’ve picked to intrude on his work.

“Mummy, I—I had a nightmare!” Leander hiccups as he makes a beeline towards Hux, not paying attention to anyone or anything else in the room. He nearly trips on the hem of his pajamas, causing Hux to rise from his chair. He apologizes quickly to the Celanites, noting the exasperation on their faces but choosing not to comment on it yet. He bends his knees, red underside of his cape sweeping against the carpet as he lays a hand on his son’s quaking shoulder.

“Leander,” Hux murmurs, keeping his voice low, “Mum’s very busy right now. Why didn’t you go to papa, or one of your siblings if you had an nightmare?”

“Papa is busy with his training, and I—I wanted you,” Leander’s words crumple and he lets out another upset wail, scrubbing at his face with the end of his blanket. Hux sighs, rubbing his thumb beneath one of his son’s weepy eyes. He can feel the eyes of the Celanites bore into his back, hear their dismissive scoffs, more of that debasing word.

“I won’t be much longer,” Hux lies, trying to get his son to calm down enough for the guards to lead him back to their private quarters, “it was only a nightmare. I need for you to stop crying and wait until I’m finished.”

“B-But…” Leander starts, one of his little hands now tugging on Hux’s sleeve. The emperor purses his lips, ready to dislodge his fingers and shoo him away. He knows it’s harsh, but he’s at his wits ends with the Celanites and the sudden appearance of Leander, when these emissaries are already dismissing him for mothering children, only agitates him further. But as his son sobs and looks up at him, brown eyes dark and swimming with tears, so clearly scared and in need of help and love, Hux reconsiders.

A memory plays in his mind—a lonely child, the brief glimpse of a man dressed pompously and conversing with others in similar garb before a door closes with a thunderous slam, a bone-deep sense of loneliness and anger. Hux suddenly softens, and instead of sending Leander off he gets down on his knees and opens his arms, letting his son fall into a tight hug.

“There there, dearest,” Hux cradles him close, letting Leander rest his head against his shoulder and even rub his sniffling nose against one of his epaulettes. “Shh. You’ll be alright.”

Hux holds him for a moment, rubbing his back, before he rises to his feet with his son in his arms.

“Forgive the interruption, there won’t be any more going forward,” He states as he moves to sit back in the chair, but the head of the Celanite dignitaries raises a hirsute brow at that, now not even making the polite effort to conceal his antipathy.

“You expect negotiation to continue when you’ve a child at your breast?” He barks, derisive. “If you think of us so lowly, emperor, then maybe our trade route would better serve another sovereignty altogether.”

Leander whines and curls into Hux, the gruff voices upsetting him. The emperor bristles and narrows his eyes at the dignitary, the last of his thinned patience vanishing like smoke.

“Perhaps you’re correct,” Hux says icily, cupping one hand over the back of his son’s head. “I would not wish to continue holding negotiations for a minute longer with thick-headed, hierarchical beasts such as yourselves.”

The gold-furred Celanite growls, the negotiation table clanking as he rises to his feet, but Hux stands firm. Behind him, he hears the guards at the door move into the room proper, flanking him, their blasters still resting in a neutral position for now.

“You will leave. If your entire emissary is not gone by the time I put my son to bed, I will call my husband to personally escort you all off the palace grounds.” Hux doesn’t bother to conceal the threat in his voice, no longer caring to salvage the Empire’s relationship with the Celanites. There are other ways to acquire the rock ivory needed for his armada. From races that were more agreeable, that didn’t underestimate his power and cruelty. That wouldn’t insult his children and his role as their mother to his face.

With that, Hux leaves the dignitaries in the hands of his guards, carefully supporting Leander as he walks through the hallways in the direction of his private quarters, mentally rescheduling the rest of his day to leave it free. The boy sniffles right in Hux’s ear, raising his head slightly.

“Mummy…I’m sorry…” His little hand grips tighter into the emperor’s regalia. “I shouldn’t…I get s-so scared…”

“Hush, dearest.” Hux turns his head slightly to kiss into his son’s hair. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“T-Those guys sounded mad, and mean…”

“They were. Very mean.” Hux slows, taking a moment to shift Leander in his arms, so he can look his son in the eyes. “I would much rather spend the rest of my day with you, than them.”

Leander face lights up a little at that, his tears finally starting to dry up. “Really?”

“Of course. I’ll summon papa and we’ll take you and your brother and sisters out into the gardens to play. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Leander nods his hand shyly, a little smile fluttering to his lips. Hux quickly matches it with one of his own, and leans in to kiss his son on his little rounded nose. It earns him a soft giggle that warms his heart.

Kylo likely won’t be pleased to hear about how the Celanites treated Hux, but he can’t see his mate being all that upset that, in the end, Hux chose family.

#spacetext #huxlings #omegaverse #god this is so...tooth rotting im sorry lmao #but thats what the huxling stuff is for right #kylux #sw #fanfic #lookatallthosereblogs

[heyheyitsstillgay]

Ghost Weed - Unbe-leaf-able

Phandom Phic Phight Entry #3 based on a prompt by @bouhoue - Maddie decides to plant some new flowers in the garden...

#TeamGhost team leader @ibelieveinahappilyeverafter

Previous Entry ; Also available on FFN ; Next Entry

Words: 1,933; Status: Complete

TW: Blood mention, Ectoplasmic gore

Physics, specifically about space? Danny loved it. He wasn't sure any other kid smiles over homework like he is right now but who cares? Sure, his English was due sooner, but he was enjoying himself for once. A rare moment of actual happiness, he was going to savour it.

Ah, that's that ruined, he thinks to himself as a familiar bubbling suddenly presses against the back of his eyes. He gasps as his throat cracks. Grasping shaking hands against his desk, he jumps out of his chair and darts out the door. A viscous liquid drips down his oesophagus as his feet slam against the steps of the staircase. He doubles over as he swings the front door open. Choking against the water in his mouth (Blood? Ectoplasm?), he forces his feet forward and past the threshold of FentonWorks.

Twitching fingers clench around the phone in his pocket as the halfa gasps for air. Stumbling down the street to get further away from the stinging that's encompassing his skin, shaking fingers tap against the buttons of his device.

"What blossoms?" Jazz exclaims, voice laced with concern. A quaint straw hat adorns her head, it's rim is decorated with a sweet floral ribbon. The sun is comfortingly warm on her arms and legs, a light breeze brushes her skin like a soft blanket. It was a beautiful summers day, she'd be happy to be spending it in the garden if her mind wasn't swirling with worry over her little brother.

"Blood Blossoms." Sam replies, reaching down to pick another flower head.

She brushes the petals softly with fingertips that are free of her black lace gloves. The jostle of the plant disturbs the pollen, it shifts upwards in the breeze, seeming to hum and almost glow a soft mesmerising gold.

"They're not harmful to humans at all so you don't need to worry about that. It's just called that because of its deep red colour and the pattern of black droplets near the base." The goth girl raises the black netted veil of her hat so it no longer covers her face, she takes a pinch of petals from the flower and places them into her mouth. Jazz's eyes widen at the sight but she doesn't comment as Sam chews and deposits the rest of the flower into the basket she's holding by her elbow. Swallowing, Sam continues "that and they're known for repelling ghosts. In times of disaster or plague people used to throw Blood Blossoms or their seeds onto the bodies of the dead. It was supposed to deter spirits from coming to the area and making things worse. They grow quite well in corpses," The Fenton girl grimaces while Sams tone continues as though they're simply discussing the weather rather than quite gruesome suffering and the image of death. "Obviously. Like Poppies, blood makes for a good fertiliser, y'know?" "Why are you eating it then?" The ginger interrupts, preferring not to be any more disturbed than she currently is.

"It's the best way to get rid of them." Sam responds, plucking more of the plants from their stems. "They were good in times of famine too, they're fibrous and nutritious and totally vegan. Wanna try?"

Jazz was presented the flower as though it wasn't something her brother described as 'Horrible, makes my blood simmer and expand as a super heated gas while my skin tries to peel away from my body. Like being electrocuted to death. Again.'

"I'm good." She forces a smile and gestures for the offending plant to stay away from her, Sam simply shrugs and places it in the basket with the others. "The pollen's quite pretty." Jazz quietly concedes. Sam smiles with gritted teeth.

"The pollen's the bad part." The goth laughs emptily, "It can phase through a ghost's skin, it reacts with the ectoplasm and gets in the way of their powers and, well, any function actually. It makes them seize up and saps at their energy. It's like ectoplasmic hay-fever but instead of making your nose run it'll destabilise ya." She grasps at the plant stems again, harsher, significantly less care than before.

"Thanks so much for your help guys, I never thought mom would choose to spend a summer's day gardening, but of course, if she did it'd be to bite me in the ass specifically." Danny laughs as he enters the back garden later on. It's perimeter is a state, black stems poking out of the soil. Tucker smirks, just glad that he got to hang out with Danny all day rather than deal with a flower that continues to haunt his nightmares. That says a lot considering he hunts ghosts with his friends on the daily.

"Stand back Ghost Boy." Sam smirks, hoisting two overflowing baskets of plant life into the air and edging her way around the house. "Your parents had planted enough for several months worth of salads, or, enough to eject your soul from your body." She makes finger guns as she backs out of the gate to head back to her house.

"You okay Danny?" Jazz asks, brushing her damp palms against her shorts and keeping her distance from the halfa, just in case.

"Yeah, it's barely noticeable at this point. Currently, the most threatening thing about being here is being found at the scene of a pretty horrendous ghost-plant-crime by our parents." He turned to head into their house, "When they notice, do you think we can convince them it was attacked by a local pro-ghost dog?"

Vines slunk towards him from every angle. The once comforting glow of the ghost zone around him became tinted red. Thorns pierced his ankle as a heavy stench of rot assaulted his nose. Vines pulled against him. Thick air surrounded him, weighing down his limbs. A scream tore from his throat while ectoplasm squirted from him. Breath taken away, Phantom looked down his wispy distorted form to see the curled, spiked, black vine protruding out from hi-

Danny's eyelids snap open. Chest heaving ragged gasps as he moves his hand to hover over his heart and core in an attempt to calm himself. Tongue heavy in his mouth, he shakes off the frost that has crystallised in his dark hair and sits up in his bed.

A nightmare? Not uncommon, and considering the relevant theme he doesn't suspect that one of his enemies is behind it. The ghost boy is still freaked from yesterday, part of him can still feel the itch echoing on his skin.

Wait. Oh, you're kidding. Danny rises from his bed on unsteady legs from the adrenaline dying down. He pads over to his window and raises the blinds. Yeah, not kidding. Anxiety surfaces again and he swears stress is going to kill him before any ghost hunter has the chance. Pushing the heels of his palms into his eyes, he stops when he begins to see stars. Quickly phasing his pyjamas off, Danny throws on underwear, a t-shirt and some jeans. He doesn't bother with socks. Grabbing a backpack he keeps phased into the floor under his bed, he turns invisible and creeps out of his bedroom. The stinging wasn't as bad as last time and it was stupid o'clock in the morning, so the ghost boy focuses more on stealth than speed when he slips out of his home. This time leaving the garden isn't nearly as difficult, the sprouting spectral weeds, for the most part, haven't bloomed yet. His skin itches a slight but it's not incapacitating, either way it's better for him to leave now. Checking his phone and texting his sister to let her know what's going on, Danny decides that 5am is a perfectly reasonable time for a patrol. Sleep is for the weak.

"So, what happened to eating them being the best way to get rid of them?" Jazz asked.

"Well, during our last encounter they weren't planted, they were just kinda scattered. Pass me the stuff?" Tucker reaches his hand towards the canister that the older teen is clutching closely to her abdomen. She hands it over with reluctance clearly written on her face.

"And this is the best plan B that you guys have?" Scepticism is clear in her voice as the Fenton backs away. Tucker responds with a smile like there was nothing out of the ordinary about the situation, he moves towards the flower beds and uncaps the hefty container that Jazz had managed to get a hold of that morning.

"Well, the issue must be with the roots, either that or they're able to reproduce ridiculously quickly," he shakes the liquid onto the flower bed and begins to walk around. Keeping to the edge of the garden, he leaves through the fence on one side, a minute or so passes as he re-emerges at the other side of the house, resuming his dousing of the soil. "We could always try weed killer but, Danny's supposed to be able to live here. Weed killer can take a while and even then you have to top it up sometimes. Your parents might be a bit clueless but surely they're going to get suspicious about why he's never home after one week."

"So you thought about chemicals and after careful consideration decided that this was the best bet?" She wrings her hands together as the boy caps the near empty canister and offers it back to her.

"Yeah, basically." Tucker shifts a small cardboard box out of his pocket, Jazz can't help the hands flying to her face in dismay as the boy removes a small match and attempts to light it.

He succeeds, his smile bursts with pride as he looks back towards his best friend's sister and drops the lit match onto the trail of petrol.

The warm days recently mean the soil is reasonably dry, so the flames catch surprisingly quickly. Wind not strong enough to put out the blaze, ends up carrying it across the plant life as a hazy red smoke begins to plume into the air.

"See?" The techno-geek backs away from the fire, "I told you it'd be fine."

"Yah-huh, and what's your plan for when our wooden fence catches fire?"

"When what now?" His head snaps back to where he had been stood a moment ago. Sure enough, the previously white fence is developing a black char at the base. "Uhhhh, fancy a barbecue?" He shrugs his shoulders and smiles in a way that looks terribly similar to a grimace.

"Okay, you head inside and find a bucket, I'll double check that the whole plot is definitely alight." Tucker giggles to himself as the blood red smoke rises from around the corner of the house, clearly the fire has successfully spread to the front garden too. "Ha! Lets see them grow back from that!" He crosses his arms before reaching for his phone as Jazz rolls her eyes and heads into her kitchen.

The teen clicks on Danny's contact info to tell him they've sorted the situation for real this time. It rings twice before the halfa answers him.

"Hey Tuck, how's it going?" The voice sounds from over the line. Before the teen can answer, a sudden angry screech comes from behind him.

"What! On! Earth! Has happened! To my garden!?" Tuckers eyes bulge in his head and his speech into his phone comes out like a spluttering cough.

"So the good news is the flowers aren't gonna kill you. The bad news is," He takes in a choked breath, "your mom's about to kill me now instead."

#phic phight #phic phight 19 #phic phight 2019 #own post #owly writes #ficlet #blood mention // #ectoshit // #blood blossoms #danny phantom #danny fenton #jazz fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #sorry if you were expecting ghost nip from the title whoops #i swear next week i wont go into detail about danny having a Bad Time #it'll start with him having a bad time but it'll end up being kinda funny i promise

[lids-flutter-open]

gay goth boy trans ftm4ftm story chapter 4 under cut. 

content warning: f*g used by gays in punk songs/underage substance use

Chapter 4

Goat Mansion already had a lot of people sitting outside when I got there, which was way too early. The sun was still on the edge of the horizon. I parked my car two streets away, since I don’t like being a designated driver for more than my friends. I walked over to the house, approaching from the street side, and saw the gaggle of people from half a block away. They were sitting on the sidewalk and gathered in a little circle near the fence that divides Goat Mansion space from the edge of the public lands by the train tracks. The teenage goth kids were fraternizing with some crust punks and some people who might have been homeless teenagers from the group that lives in the train tunnel downtown. I didn’t recognize anyone, which made sense because OVID was coming from out of town so probably brought out different fans. One of the teenage goth kids had a thing of cheap boxed red wine but had taken the wine bag out of the box and was passing it around to her friends, having everyone chug, shouting BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD. One of the girls with her let the wine overflow her mouth and run down to soak into her black mesh shirt. They were all about my age or a little younger. I thought it looked like fun, but I don’t like drinking, so I didn’t get too close as I made my way around the house to the back. I knew people would be starting a bonfire. 

Bonfires in late summer are hard, because lately there’s been a burn ban for longer and longer into the autumn. This September, there hadn’t been enough rain to totally put everyone in the clear. And nobody wants to start a wildfire. But Goat Mansion has a rock pit that’s pretty big, and it’s easy to put out the fire with sand and water if it gets too much or starts sparking. When I got there, Acorn was piling the logs up and working with a piece of flint to spark it. Xie doesn’t use any gasoline because, again, too much risk for a big burn that gets out of control. 

“Hey,” I said to Acorn. “Seen anyone from Rocketpizza yet?”

Acorn turned. “Oh, hey, James,” xie said. Xie nodded hir head towards the sliding doors at the back of the house. “Just Ian. I think he was with Ken earlier, but Ken said something about 4Lokos and walked to the store and hasn’t come back.”

“Who’s buying Ken 4Lokos? That sounds like a bad start to the night,” I said. “Has anyone here brought up that sober space thing they’re trying at Fleur’s North? Suggested having a sober only show sometimes?”

“No, we’ve always kinda been a party house. Not likely to change. Somewhere needs to be messy. People don’t like it, they move. Why?”

“There’s definitely some visible and intense public underage drinking happening out front right now.”

“Shit,” Acorn said. “Is it those goth kids?” Xie pushed hir hair out of hir eyes. Acorn has really long hair and a beard that increases in both length and glossy volume every time I see hir.  Xie wears mascara to shows. Tonight xie had on a Carly Rae Jepsen shirt and a plaid skirt. 

“Yeah,” I said. “Nobody from Compton, but definitely under eighteen. You want me to go tell them to come back here and be more discreet?”

“Just like, get them some water and tell them to chill. They’re gonna pass out before the show even starts, or start moshing and hurting someone. I hate when there’s too many teens at shows. No offense,” xie added. “I forget you’re a teen because you’re chill.”

“I don’t drink much. If I did I’d probably be rowdier. It is a teen band tonight. Or like, two, actually. With Quince Quest.”

“Maybe I’ll make some food and cultivate a chill pre-show vibe and get some calories in the kids. Some bread. It’s not that I don’t want them to enjoy music.” Acorn prodded the little fire that was starting in the pit. “Just like, read the agreements for the space that we put on all the doors of the space, you know?”

The agreements, for Goat Mansion, on all the doors, were as follows:

NO NAZIS OR RAPISTS.

DO NOT fucking come to a show looking to start a fucking fight. 

NO COPS

Don’t get fucking wasted before 10 PM. 

Don’t touch anyone without asking

NO SMOKING OR DRINKING ON THE STOOP. Come to the backyard.

DO NOT MESS AROUND ON THE STREET! Come to the backyard.

IF YOU MAKE A MESS HELP CLEAN IT.

IF THERE IS NO TOILET PAPER, OR THE TOILET FLOODS, PLEASE YELL FOR ASSISTANCE. DO NOT SNEAK AWAY. 

FOR REAL ABSOLUTELY NO DRINKING OR SMOKING ON STOOP. FOR REAL. THERE IS A BACKYARD.

It was a pretty concise list that covered most things that anyone cared about. And it was pretty easy to follow, though of course I had no way of knowing if any nazis or rapists ignored the first bullet point. 

I went around the corner of the house and into the kitchen. I filled a big old plastic pitcher that seemed relatively clean with tap water and grabbed a sleeve of plastic cups from under the sink. I knew where everything was here, even though I didn’t have any friends who lived here any more except Acorn. Last year I had been the one to clean the kitchen for the first time in a decade and stock it with plastic cups. If you don’t have cups everyone ends up drinking out of the tap like dogs or just getting disgustingly dehydrated. 

“Hey,” I called to the goth kids, stepping out on the front porch, “You all look like you might need some water soon.”

“Thanks,” the mesh shirt girl said. 

“You’re starting early. Can you bring the party around back? We don’t like annoying neighbor people too much. They call the cops sometimes,” I said. “There’s more room back there, too.” I felt okay bossing them because none of the goth kids would have the nerve to question the authority of someone who was wearing safety pin earrings like they were. 

“No problem,” the girl holding the blood bag of wine said. She giggled to her friends, probably about how messy they were being. 

I sat around with the goths by the smoking baby bonfire and smoked a bowl alone before I saw Ian. He was walking quickly around the corner of the house, looking like the human embodiment of that cat meme where the cat is grimacing. I got up and jogged after him. 

“What’s the deal with Ken?” I asked, catching him by the elbow. “Heard he like left and didn’t come back?”

“Don’t fucking ask,” Ian said. He had glitter makeup on, which I thought was cute, if a little 2012. He looked really good. “Ken’s fucking gone as far as I’m concerned. Which is whatever. We knew this day was coming.”

“Wait, Rocketpizza is still performing, right?”

“Yeah,” Ian said. “Some kid from Centralia who’s playing drums for Quince Quest is here, she said she’d do drums for me.  We went over the basic stuff with the songs earlier. She can’t be any worse than Ken would be. He was getting plastered at noon when I went over there today. I have no idea where he is.”

“Dude, that fucking sucks,” I said. 

“I mean, you guys were all absolutely correct about him. I’m stressed right now but I’ll be fine.”

“Where’s swimmer boy?”

“We broke up.”

“Shit, dude.”

“Don’t wanna talk about it. I’ll process with you tomorrow.”

“You need help with merch?”

“Yes, absolutely. Later, though. No point right now. After the show. Right now we’re doing music setup shit since we’re on first.”

“At least you’ll have a crowd.”

“These druggy Seattle kids?” Ian rolled his eyes.

“They’re just drunk. I’m working on hydrating them.”

The sun was going down, and more people were arriving. I put Ian’s merch in a taped up box underneath the table by the door that had been set up to collect people’s pay-what-you-can donations to Goat Mansion. I wanted to talk to him more, but it was clear that wasn’t gonna happen. I sat with the table. Acorn was drawing smiley faces on the hands of people who paid. People who didn’t pay and didn’t get smiley faces wouldn’t get kicked out, but they might get snarked at by someone if they were being obnoxious and they wouldn’t be allowed to drink any house alcohol. Everyone expected the show to start one to three hours after the posted start time, but everyone turned up at the time on the posters anyway to smoke or catch up with people or drop their backpacks and walk eighteen blocks away to the store to buy beer. The sun slanted through the windows like liquid gold and someone put a VHS of Fire Walk With Me on in the living room, where it already smelled like cigarettes. It was all cis men in there, who seemed like they all knew each other and might be shitheads, so I stayed outside once the merch was set up. Everyone in the backyard was vivid shades of gold and pink and brown against the bright green of the trees. The smoke was rising more and more out of the fire pit. That was when I saw the guy from King David’s. Orsino. He was getting out of a pickup truck.

His hair was still fucked up and wispy orange and crackly from bleach, and he had a fucked up little mustache still, but he was wearing a different stupid shirt. This one was black, had a big gray alien head on it, and it said ROSWELL. It was tighter around his chest and stomach and arms than the dolphin shirt had been at the diner. He was wearing ripped up pants that terminated just below his knee. They looked like they’d been chewed by dogs. His calves were thick and covered in dark hair. He had on hiking boots with wool socks. He didn’t see me. As soon as he got out of the car, he turned back and started talking to someone on the driver’s side of the car. He was still somewhere between pretty hot and extremely hot. 

I saw the person get out on the other side of the car and realized that it was Jukebox. Jukebox had a guitar case with them and stuck around for just a second before heading into the garage, where I knew that Ian was setting up. Orsino said something to them and then walked toward the house, lighting a cigarette as he went.

I wondered what Orsino’s personality was like. I didn’t know Orsino at all. But I felt something about him already—something sort of like what Therese feels for Carol when she first sees Carol in The Price of Salt by Patricia Highsmith or Carol (2015). When her eyes go wide and she knows it doesn’t matter what happens next, because the important thing has already happened. She’s seen her. Or maybe that was dramatic, but like, I was a little stoned. I wondered if I should go say hi. 

“James!” Opal shouted at me from across the yard. 

I looked over to see Opal and Barb and Goober coming towards me, accompanied by a dude I didn’t know. Opal was wheeling their chair over the mangled grass. I hoped that there weren’t any nails around that might puncture the tires.

“Oh hey,” I said, waving. 

“Jamie!” Barb rushed in and gave me a hug. She has pink short hair and lots of sun freckles and deep wrinkles around her eyes. If you ignore her skin, she looks like she’s about sixteen. She’s always sort of manic and I think she’s really smart but you probably have to wait until four in the morning for her to start talking about smart people things. She reminds me of a version of my mom that took up dance and punk music and boxing instead of becoming a teacher. 

“This is Duke,” Opal said, raising an eyebrow and gesturing to the man. I looked up at him. He didn’t look trans. He had a really curly head of long back hair and a thick beard and a lot of tattoos and smiley eyes. He looked like a biker that a country singer would date.

“Sup,” Duke said. “Nice to meet you.”

“You’re meeting everyone tonight,” Goober said, throwing her blond hair over one shoulder. “James works at Compton House too, with the teen council thing.”

“Hey Duke,” I said. “Nice to meet you. You like OVID?” I gave him a man handshake, with a firm grip. He looked like he would respect that.

“Yeah, since they got started I’ve come to almost every show,” Duke said. “Me and Stacey go way back.”

“Barb used to date Stacey, right?” I asked. “Is that how you guys know each other?” I wasn’t going to allude to the fact that Barb and Duke were fucking. 

“Kind of,” Barb said. She sat down on a stump next to me. “I love that we’re all here at this show together. I feel a great kind of continuity.” She grinned up at Duke, who looked at her with the most disgustingly lovey gaze I have ever seen in this world. I looked at Opal, who shrugged. 

“You seen Ian yet?” I asked Opal. 

“No. What’s up?” Opal could tell in my voice that something was wrong. 

“Ken is drunk somewhere and Ian is gonna do the show with a replacement drummer,” I said. 

“What? Who?”

“Some kid from the other band. Quince Quest.”

“The fuck he is. I’m gonna drum for him. I have to join his band,” Opal said. They started rolling their chair backward and pivoting it toward the garage.

“Maybe later,” I said. “Not tonight. He’s stressed. Swimmer boy troubles. Drummer troubles. Too much. He’ll snap at you.”

“I know his songs, dude,” Opal said. “I know he’s stressed, but I can do it better than a quince kid. I’ve been practicing on the drums at Barb’s.” 

“Do you need help getting to the garage?” I asked. There was a lot of gravel between here and there.

“I’m good, dude.” Opal turned away from me, and I felt a little abandoned.

“Do you want backup?”

“Let them go talk to him,” Goober said. “You’ll be all touchy feely and Opal will just boss him. That’s what he needs.”

“You said it,” Opal yelled over their shoulder. 

Duke turned to me. His eyes were irrepressibly crinkly. “So James. Barb talks about you and Opal and Compton House all the time. How long have you been on the Compton House teen council? What do you think of it?”

I shrugged. I didn’t want to give this guy too much of a leg up on the competition if he was really applying to be director. “I mean, it’s very important. We did an awareness training for a church two weeks ago about mental health and teens. I feel like I’m connected to local politics and stuff, even if it means I know the dirt about everyone.”

Barb laughed. 

“You remind me of me. I was involved in the first committee for Ladyfest when it happened here in 2000,” Duke said. “I was on security. I sat in on all the meetings for planning.”

“That’s nice,” I said. “Continuity.” 

I looked away from Duke and Barb, hoping they’d see someone they knew and go talk to them. 

***

It was two hours later when word spread slowly through the mass of people that the show was starting. The sun had gone down and I had three mosquito bites, even though it should have been too cold. There was standing water in one of the barrels behind Goat Mansion, and that always meant the mosquitos survived longer here than anywhere. Everyone but me was getting drunk. I hadn’t gotten any closer to Orsino, though he’d caught my eye just before everyone went down to the garage and crowded in through the single side door. I thought I saw him smile, but I could have been wrong. 

The room was dark and ugly and packed. There are lights on the stage and then a tangle of wires near the stage that some fire safety expert was supposed to probably evaluate at some point after the Ghost Ship fire, but I don’t think it ever happened. There’s a lot of random piles of shit near the door that should be a main point of egress, and people sit on it like it’s benches at a ball game. It’s definitely not structurally stable. The lights that shine down on the tiny little stage are beautiful. Tonight there was pink and red gels over them, so it looked like a sex party or a weird pretty Hell. 

Ian was wearing his fishnet arm wraps, a lot of glitter, and Goober’s leather miniskirt that that she’d worn to Pride in June. His wrists were covered in bangles. His chest was bare. His hair was sort of flopping over his face. He was fumbling with a lot of wires onstage. Opal was behind the drums. I hadn’t actually heard Opal play before, since they’d only started after they moved to Barb’s house. I didn’t know if they were good or not, but I guessed that they might be if they were going up. Opal was pretty clear-headed and wouldn’t put themselves on the spot if they thought they’d fail. Devon had on his normal clothes and looked pissed as fuck, but he was tuning his bass just the same. 

“ROCKETPIZZA!!!!!” Barb yelled. Some of the goths yelled too, as did the cis men who had been watching a movie inside. There were suddenly a lot of people around me, and I was worried about my feet getting stepped on by the dudes with the steel toed boots. I’m not dumb enough to wear non-sturdy footwear to a show, but I’m small.

Ian looked into the crowd, squinting. I don’t know if he knows Barb’s voice well enough to recognize a screech. He dropped some wires and stepped to the mic. 

“HEY BITCHES AND BABES AND FAGGOTS,” he yelled into the crowd. His voice got soft on the last word. There was a mix of cheers and uncomfortable muttering. Ian was oblivious to the latter. “HOW ARE YOU DOING?”

Barb and Duke both bellowed at the stage, incoherent jumbled exuberance. Old punks at least know how to bellow. 

“I’LL TELL YOU HOW I’M DOING,” Ian yelled into the mic, which twanged painfully over the speakers. “MY BOYFRIEND AND I JUST BROKE UP AND I LOST MY OLD DRUMMER BECAUSE HE IS A DUMBASS.”

There were some confused boos and apologetic noises, particularly from the goths near the front of the stage. All the teen goths were pretty far gone. I saw one of them swaying in her heels.

“BUT THAT IS OKAY,” Ian continued. “ROCKETPIZZA DIED TONIGHT. I LOOK GREAT. OPAL LOOKS GREAT ON DRUMS. GIVE IT UP FOR OPAL.”

I yelled at the top of my lungs, feeling like it was a kind of weird ecstatic prayer. The guy with a beard next to me moved away from me in surprise.

“WE ARE A NEW GROUP NOW. OUR NAME IS MISS SAN JUAN AND THE DUSTIES. YOU’RE HERE TO WITNESS THE BIRTH OF A GOOFY NEW QUEERCORE BAND. ISN’T THAT EXCITING?”

Ian was good at riling up a crowd. People were getting more interested in this seventeen year old twink yelling at them. 

“ALSO YOU WILL PROBABLY WITNESS THE DEATH OF MY VOCAL CHORDS BECAUSE I AM ABOUT TO SCREAM MY GUTS OUT. THIS IS A NEW SONG. IT IS CALLED FOOLSLUT IN RETROGRADE.” Ian shook his head and smiled and blinked in the way that had made me fall sort of in love with him when we were fifteen. 

The drunk baby goths went hog wild, and I screamed at the top of my lungs again and whistled through the gap in my teeth, like my grandmother had taught me to do when I was five.

Then Ian opened his mouth to sing. 

(insert here: a piece of torn notebook paper, with the title: FOOLSLUT IN RETROGRADE LYRICS)

THOUGHT YOU WERE GONNA SHAKE ME 

FROM THE POOL OF BLACK INK

ATOP YOUR FIRE ESCAPE

I BREATHE IN THE STINK

OF YOUR SMELLY BALLS

I FEEL NOTHING AT ALL 

THE PLANETS WERE ALIGNED

NOW WE’RE BADLY COMBINED

SOLO QUIERO LLEVAR TUS BRAGAS

SOLO QUIERO TOCAR TU BOCA

SOLO QUIERO TENER TUS LLAGAS

PARA TERMINAR ESTA EPOCA

I’M IN PAIN I’M INSANE

WE ARE SMASHING THE WORLD

I’M IN PAIN I’M INSANE

YOUR DEPRESSED BITCH GIRL

BOY 

SHUT UP YOU DON’T KNOW ANYTHING

BOY

SHUT UP YOU DON’T KNOW ANYTHING

FILL MY MIND WITH SMOKE 

SMOKE IT IN YOUR BONG

GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE

SO LONG SO LONG

WE DON’T WANT IT OR NEED IT

I NEED YOU TO BEAT IT

END THE WORLD

END THE WORLD

END THE WORLD

FUCK 

(end paper)

When Ian’s set ended fifteen minutes later, the pit had fully opened up. 

People were swaying and had been punching and pushing into each other. I’d gotten slammed against the wall twice and had been shoved into someone’s armpit four times. Which was like, not normal for an opening band. Usually people just stood awkwardly staring with their PBRs in their hands, rocking a little or jamming their heads if the band was good. But some combination of everyone already being wasted and of Opal’s drumming—which was actually really good—and of Ian jumping fully into the air…everyone got electrified somehow. I felt my B.O swelling up toward the ceiling with everyone else’s and the heat from us all supercharging the air like it was some kind of ancient magically charged sweat house made of old cedar in the deep wilderness of the Russian steppe. Ian’s glitter was dripping down his chest in waves. I felt my own shirt soaking with the sweat. My lungs hurt from yelling, and I was reeling still. I watched Ian turn and unplug his amp and walk offstage just before the crush of bodies trying to get out into the cold air totally obscured my view of him. I tried to keep my head above the crowd, thanking god that I wasn’t super sensitive to noise, smells, or sensory overstimulation.

“That was incredible,” a voice behind me said. I didn’t recognize it. I turned slightly. Jukebox January was behind me, smiling. Their chin hairs were darker than I remembered them.  They were shorter than me. They had smudged pink eyeliner in one long band around their eyes. Their shirt was torn so I could see one of their nipples through the fabric.

“Yeah,” I said. “It got so hot in here so fast. We gotta wait a bit for the air to cool down before yours, huh.”

“That set!” Jukebox exclaimed. “Like, that was phenomenal! So good and raw but also like, they’re real! They’re so good. We gotta get this kid a record deal so fast if he wants to sell out! He’s your friend, right?”

I smiled. I felt so happy for Ian. He loved OVID. Tonight had been hard, but it was going to turn out so good for him.  “Yeah,” I said. “I’m James. We go to school together. I’ve known him a long ass time. He’s so good.”

“What’s going on with the band?” Jukebox asked. Their teeth were all showing in their smile. “Some shuffling stuff? Do you think the current situation will hold together? They literally sounded so so good.”

“I literally don’t even know,” I said. “But he loves you, he loves OVID. Like he and his  followed you to the Gorge this summer and then down to the Bay when you were on tour. You should talk to him.” I was glad I was able to be so chill when my heart was pounding into my ears from the adrenaline. 

“Let’s go,” Jukebox said. “I gotta touch base with my bandmates in a second but I wanna give him props. What’s his full name? Does he go by Miss San Juan? Or she?”

“Ian,” I said. “Ian Arroyo. And he uses he/him, at least for now.”

“Cool. What about you?”

“James,” I said. I led Jukebox out into the yard. The cool night air with the smell of decay and everything hit my skin and my mouth all at the same time. It was a second before I saw Ian over by the truck with Opal in the dark. Opal was smoking, and Ian was moving something in the bed of the truck. I screamed loud and high pitched as we got close so he could hear me. 

“That was incredible, bitch!” 

Ian turned. He smiled weakly. “I’m so so so shaking,” he yelled back. His bare chest was getting goosebumps in the cold. He was so beautiful. 

“Look who I brought,” I yelled, thrusting a thumb back at Jukebox, who lifted a hand in greeting. Ian stood up immediately. He leapt over the side of the truck bed to land on both feet in the gravel in front of us. 

“Hey,” he said. 

“Hey,” Jukebox said. “That was incredible. I wanted to make sure you knew. I’m Jukebox.”

“I know,” Ian said. “I can’t wait for your set. I’m so so tired but I’m gonna stay here till the end.”

“I literally haven’t ever played drums live before,” Opal said.

“You were great for all that,” Jukebox said.

I turned away from them and turned toward the bonfire. I tried to make out through the dark who was still here that I knew. People were dancing a little near the fire and there was a cluster of lit cigarette ends floating in the shadows just beyond my field of vision.

“Come hang out with me,” Jukebox was saying to Ian. “My friends are over here. My girlfriend Robin was loving your set too, but she has issues with moshing so had to step out when it got intense. Someone threw a bottle and it nearly hit her.”

“Oh, that sucks,” Opal said. 

We moved over toward the patch of the yard where Jukebox’s friends were. I could smell the smoke and the blackberries and the wood and sweat and smoke and I felt like I was still on some kind of crazy high. Orsino was sitting there, like I knew he would be. There was a space next to him on the log he was sitting on. He looked up and smirked at me and I sat down next to him without a second thought. 

#writing #long post #long text #James and orsino #ya #trans

[protagonistprepblog]

Protagonist Prep Ch. 6 Growing Gains,

Only thing I own are my own characters.

         It was a day after the mishaps and things started to go semi-smoothly, apart from a few mishaps with a couple students, and some of the kids even payed attentions to the classes. However, this enjoyable time was shattered when Droolers’ arcane arts class started.

 “All right kids today we’re going to learn about potions.” He told the class with excitement bubbling in his voice. Which confused the students considering he rarely shows excitement, rage and disappointment plenty but excitement would be considered an endangered species.

 “What’s the big whoop? Potions aren’t that exciting.” Star asked with hostility in voice.

 “That’s because those are Mewman potions.  My kinds potion can turn the tide of battle, cure all aliments and make the user irresistible.”  Told/burned Star. Now this excited the class especially a certain blonde haired and blue eyed Parisain.

 “So what kind of potions are we going to learn about?” Chloe asked in perfect English.

 “Before you guys rage we fixed it before this chapter came out. Anyway, to answer your question Chloe there are a plethora of different potions but this week we’re learning about body modification potions. Specifically, the growth potion varieties which numbers into the 20s.” That’s all Chloe heard after she began to fantasize. When the class was over Chloe waited beside the door as mostly everyone walked out of the room and when Marinette and Alya walked out she grabbed them by their shoulders and pulled them away.

 “So why do you need our help?” Alya asked her tone harsh and her voice full of doubt. While Marinette just glared at the blond with enough hatred to melt both poles.

  “All I need is you two to distract that beast long for me to grab a potion that’ll make Adrien fall in love with me!” Chloe exclaimed her plan a bit too loudly and if it was the plan of the century. The two friends just looked at her with a mix of hatred and disbelief for many reasons.

 “Chloe, that is a terrible idea! Wouldn’t it be easier to just to ask him?” Marinette asked slightly angry at Choles’ idea and highly afraid stealing from a creature that can cause earthquakes.

 “Puh-lease that monster would probably eat us first!” Chloe insulted not knowing that the one she insulted was right behind them.

 “Actually, I don’t like how humans taste a bit too gamey. Also, yes it would be it easier to ask.” The girls screamed in surprise and nearly jumped into the air. Drooler just looked down at the girls and tilted his head in confusion.

 “So why are you three trying to steal potions?” He asked with suspicion and his face hardening into something close to granite. All three of the girls went into a panic wondering what to tell the fire being. After twenty long agonizing seconds of silence Marinette thought of something.

“We wanted to learn more about more about potions and how to make them.” Alya and Chloe quickly nodded, then something extremely odd happened. Droolers’ muzzle broke out into a huge grin and his tail actually wagged a little.

 “Well why didn’t you say so?!?!?! Come on I’ll show my potion lab!!” The girls were confused and slightly scared at the mood change but decided not to press their luck. They followed Drooler through the hall while he rapid fired them with questions.

 “So what kind of potion do you want to make, a fire potion, animal transformation oh are you going to make an invisibility potion?!?!?!” Drooler asked with excitement, almost hopping towards his potion lab. The girls just tried to stay quiet and tried not to freak out at the fact their teacher just went from grizzled detective to happy pup.  When Drooler stopped at flame pattern door with a bull/dragon creature above the flames. When he opened it Alya finally answered his question to calm him down, she can handle kids but a fire being that can earthquakes is something else entirely.

 “Um, just a simple growth potion.”  The girls began to sweat and pray that he didn’t ask anything else.

 “Which one?” And the girls started to internally panicking, and when Drooler walked towards a huge cabinet with strange symbols on it they whispered asking Marinette what kinds of growth potions there were, since she mostly paid attention in their classes. Unfortunately, they only covered it today, they only went over the basics and who made it.

 “Uh, the first one please.” That answer caused Droolers’ entire body stiffened and his arms stopped moving, he slowly turned his head towards the girls.

 “Are you sure?” His voice showing actual concern and worry in his voice. This confused the girls but they nodded anyway.  He opened the ingredient cabinet and pulled out three first grader sized jars, the first one was filled with a grey powder, second was filled with neon purple petals with black spikes and the final one had a viscous aqua green liquid. He then walked over towards one of the tables, he used his tail to grab a bathtub sized bowl and pour the ingredients.

 “Otual Varosh Sctial Redak Poratana!”  He chanted as he stirred the ingredients. There was small poof of violet smoke and the ingredients became a dark purple green syrup like concoction. After that display he used his tail to grab three vials and filled them with the potion.

 “Take these to the dorms and drink these.” Drooler told the girls. They left his lab and started the walk back towards the dorms. After tapping the wall in the order they were given and entered the dorms, when they entered the dorms some noticed the vials.

 “What did you steal from Mr.Fire Hazard?” Sashi asked her tone suspicious and her face colder than Antarctic ice.

 “Relax he gave us these.” Sashi’s cold facade melted a little and she turned her attention away from them and went back to her, thankfully it wasn’t bigger than them, homework. The three girls went to the kitchen to drink it, hey they had enough crazy today and wanted a little normalcy. After drinking all of the bittersweet tasting potion the good twenty minutes they started to get impatient, mainly just Chloe.

 “What’s taking so long!?!!?” As soon as she said a small wispy flame entered the dorms and stopped right in front of the. If that wasn’t strange enough the flame then turned into some sort of floating paper with something even stranger.

‘Hey girls I forgot to mention that it can take a few hours to take effect, so sorry for forgetting about that detail.

-Sincerely Your Teacher Drooler’

 After the girls the finished reading the letter it turned back into a wispy flame and sped back to its master.

“That was kind of awesome, not going to lie.” Alya said with what could only be described as pure amazement at what just happened. While Chloe had a different feeling.

 “Are you kidding me !?!?!?!” She yelled at the top of her lungs, which caused some of the other students to either glare at her or wanted to do extreme bodily harm to her. After a good 15 minutes of calming down Chloe, Adrien helped a lot, the girls went their semi-separate separate ways.  Marinette and Gaz had a videogame battle with each other, Alya and Connie were talking about the freaky stuff that happened where they live, and Chloe she tried to hang out with Adrien, she didn’t succeed. At curfew the girls went to the dorms and slept unaware that their bodies were changing and growing. Chloe woke up early to do her hair and to see if the potion made her even more amazing, but as she walked towards the bathroom she felt heavier than before. As she turned on the lights she saw and walked towards the sinks, something in the mirror that she never wanted to see. Her face was chubbier than normal, looking like Mylene, she looked down at her body and she saw that certain things were blocking her view of the floor.

 “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH” A loud piercing scream erupted from Chloes’ lips and woke up the entire girls dorms.

 “Ugh, will someone go shut up that prissy little queen bee!?” Sashi yelled.

 “She probably just forgot to comb hair a hundred times. Also, who turned on the heat, it’s a thousand degrees in here??!” Alya yelled, she then threw off her covers and then saw something unexpected, her lower half was expanded greatly in fact it was close to the edge of the bed.

 “AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Alya let loose a surprised scream and it woke up the final one.

 “Ugh guys could you keep it down?” Marinette grumbled from her covers, however she then bolted awake after she what happened to Alya.

 “What happened to you?!!?!” Marinette asked with worry and fear.

 “Umm, girl.” At that comment Marinette looked down at her body and she sees that her body had more padding than usual.

 “AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!” That third scream caused two things to happen, one it woke up the boys and caused them to run towards the door of the girls dorm. Two it awoke someone who hated to hear someone messing with his students. Anyway, back to how the boys are handling the situation, it was a bit chaotic. Nino and Adrien were at the door worried for their friends, well Nino was mainly worried about Alya but don’t worry Adrien had enough worry for both Chloe and Marinette.

 “Chloe, Marinette are you okay?!?!?” Adrien yelled through the door.

 “Alya what happened?!?!” Nino asked his voice shaking with worry.

 The others tried to contact their friends/siblings to see that if something wrong happened in there. Their fears weren’t diminished by the fact they felt the ground shake and it was getting more intense, then the wall entrance blew apart causing dust and small cubes to fill the student area. From the dust the kids saw glowing red dots and they were getting closer to them, when the dust cleared they saw Drooler on his knuckles stomping towards the door with his eyes pure red and glowing. He stopped in front Nino and Adrien, he looked down at the two boys and growled two words.

 “Move now.” The two boys wanted to stand their ground and say no to him. However, Droolers’ entire body language screamed that if they didn’t move they would probably pay for it. When they did move the three-clawed hand at the end of his tail latched onto the door and ripped it of the hinges, he put the door down next to him. He tried to fit his body through the door, but he only got his head and part of his shoulder through. He looked in room and didn’t see the vengeful foe he was expecting, instead he saw Chloe crying and the others trying to comfort her.

 “Well, well if it isn’t Mr.Fire Hazard here to finish the job?” Sashi harshly asked Drooler with a hateful glare sent to him. Drooler let out something like a dog’s whine and outside his wings slightly drooped.

 “I’m sorry for what happened, I should’ve told you what happened, but I was an idiot for thinking that this could be avoided. I’m not asking for forgiveness nor do I deserve it.” He told the girls, who just looked at him with a mix of faces filled with awe and faces of trying to keep in laughter.

 “What anime did you get that from?” Gaz asked trying to hold in laughter. Realizing and processing what he said Drooler just inwardly facepalmed and groaned.

 “Okay, just forget that last part I tend to go a little carried away sometimes. I am sorry though for what happened.” Drooler said trying to cover up his embarrassment. While Chloe was getting angry with this unwanted change.

 “Well sorry isn’t enough to restore my good looks!!!”

 “I know the cure and how to make it, but it has to be made in my lab, before you ask why can’t I make it here it’s due to the lack of equipment and the cure could be contaminated.” He told not only the girls but the readers as well. Chloe’s face changed from anger to complete fear and worry.

 “NO!!!! I can’t let anyone see me like this!!!!” Drooler just looked like someone punched him in chest. He then got himself out of the door and looked at the boys.

 “Okay everyone close your eyes, I have to take them to my lab to cure them but one of them doesn’t want to be seen. Before you guys ask why you should do it.” His tail then grabbed the door and crushed it into a ball. After that they closed eyes and Drooler then the three girls to his lab. When he opened the door, the girls noticed that there was an old style, human sized, weighing scale. The girls just looked at Drooler and backed away from him slowly.

 “It’s to see how much weight I have to take off to return you guys to normal.” He told them, the girls believed but kept an eye on him. After they were weighed Drooler then took their blood and started to run tests on it, when that was done he turned to the girls with his face carrying a mix of a smile and a frown.

 “What’s with the smile?” Alya asked a little creeped but amazed how his the smile was on his left and frown on the right.

 “Well I have no idea what facial expression mortals make when they deliver news. So, I mixed the two most common when giving people news.” All that did was cause the girls even more nervous.

 “So the news?” All three of the girls asked their voices filled with worry.

 “The good news is that I can get rid of 50% of the weight but the rest you guys are going to lose it on your own.” At this Chloe began to cry.

 “Great now no one will love me now!” Drooler then became angry.

 “So, what if it’s their loss you know why? Because you are a beautiful young girl and if anyone tells you otherwise---”

 “Ignore them?” Marinette suggested, Drooler just looked a little sheepish and finished his sentence his voice having an embarrassed tone.

 “Actually, I was going to kick them in the crotch but that also works. Causes less legal troubles too so win win.”  The three girls just deadpanned at what he said, though they smirk at his antics cheering up Chloe a little. It took 2 hours for him to create the antidote and for him to find a proper way to administer it. When he did administer the antidote the girls then glowed and began to lose weight until the glow faded away. The girls were still chubby but skinnier than this morning, Drooler gave them some new clothes which raised suspicions but the clothes fit and they were nice, and sent them back to the dorms. There were no class that day, later at night Behemoth was taking a walk through the school when he noticed that Drooler’s door was open and the lights were on. As he got closer he could hear small explosions and then a string of curses, Behemoth took a peak in the room and saw Drooler hunched over his potion table with a mountain of crumbled up scrolls behind him.

 “Sir, what troubles you?” Behemoth asked, worried for him.

 “Oh, hey Behemoth I’m just doing some late experimenting.” Drooler answered his voice sounding tired and defeated, Behemoth frowned at the answer knowing that he was lying. He then looked for a chair and when he did find one he pulled it close to the table, sat down and began to help with the experiments.

 “What are you doing?”

 “Sir, you’re going to need help if you want to make a better cure for those girls.” Drooler just smiled and patted Behemoth on the back.

 “Thank you old friend.”

#protagonist prep #oc #au #steven universe #invader zim #svtfoe #pzpth #miraculous ladybug #tw #wg

[writeroffanfiction]

Protagonist Prep Ch. 6 Growing Gains,

Only thing I own are my own characters.

It was a day after the mishaps and things started to go semi-smoothly, apart from a few mishaps with a couple students, and some of the kids even payed attentions to the classes. However, this enjoyable time was shattered when Droolers’ arcane arts class started.

“All right kids today we’re going to learn about potions.” He told the class with excitement bubbling in his voice. Which confused the students considering he rarely shows excitement, rage and disappointment plenty but excitement would be considered an endangered species.

“What’s the big whoop? Potions aren’t that exciting.” Star asked with hostility in voice.

“That’s because those are Mewman potions.  My kinds potion can turn the tide of battle, cure all aliments and make the user irresistible.”  Told/burned Star. Now this excited the class especially a certain blonde haired and blue eyed Parisain.

“So what kind of potions are we going to learn about?” Chloe asked in perfect English.

“Before you guys rage we fixed it before this chapter came out. Anyway, to answer your question Chloe there are a plethora of different potions but this week we’re learning about body modification potions. Specifically, the growth potion varieties which numbers into the 20s.” That’s all Chloe heard after she began to fantasize. When the class was over Chloe waited beside the door as mostly everyone walked out of the room and when Marinette and Alya walked out she grabbed them by their shoulders and pulled them away.

“So why do you need our help?” Alya asked her tone harsh and her voice full of doubt. While Marinette just glared at the blond with enough hatred to melt both poles.

“All I need is you two to distract that beast long for me to grab a potion that’ll make Adrien fall in love with me!” Chloe exclaimed her plan a bit too loudly and if it was the plan of the century. The two friends just looked at her with a mix of hatred and disbelief for many reasons.

“Chloe, that is a terrible idea! Wouldn’t it be easier to just to ask him?” Marinette asked slightly angry at Choles’ idea and highly afraid stealing from a creature that can cause earthquakes.

“Puh-lease that monster would probably eat us first!” Chloe insulted not knowing that the one she insulted was right behind them.

“Actually, I don’t like how humans taste a bit too gamey. Also, yes it would be it easier to ask.” The girls screamed in surprise and nearly jumped into the air. Drooler just looked down at the girls and tilted his head in confusion.

“So why are you three trying to steal potions?” He asked with suspicion and his face hardening into something close to granite. All three of the girls went into a panic wondering what to tell the fire being. After twenty long agonizing seconds of silence Marinette thought of something. “We wanted to learn more about more about potions and how to make them.” Alya and Chloe quickly nodded, then something extremely odd happened. Droolers’ muzzle broke out into a huge grin and his tail actually wagged a little.

“Well why didn’t you say so?!?!?! Come on I’ll show my potion lab!!” The girls were confused and slightly scared at the mood change but decided not to press their luck. They followed Drooler through the hall while he rapid fired them with questions.

“So what kind of potion do you want to make, a fire potion, animal transformation oh are you going to make an invisibility potion?!?!?!” Drooler asked with excitement, almost hopping towards his potion lab. The girls just tried to stay quiet and tried not to freak out at the fact their teacher just went from grizzled detective to happy pup.  When Drooler stopped at flame pattern door with a bull/dragon creature above the flames. When he opened it Alya finally answered his question to calm him down, she can handle kids but a fire being that can earthquakes is something else entirely.

“Um, just a simple growth potion.”  The girls began to sweat and pray that he didn’t ask anything else.

“Which one?” And the girls started to internally panicking, and when Drooler walked towards a huge cabinet with strange symbols on it they whispered asking Marinette what kinds of growth potions there were, since she mostly paid attention in their classes. Unfortunately, they only covered it today, they only went over the basics and who made it.

“Uh, the first one please.” That answer caused Droolers’ entire body stiffened and his arms stopped moving, he slowly turned his head towards the girls.

“Are you sure?” His voice showing actual concern and worry in his voice. This confused the girls but they nodded anyway.  He opened the ingredient cabinet and pulled out three first grader sized jars, the first one was filled with a grey powder, second was filled with neon purple petals with black spikes and the final one had a viscous aqua green liquid. He then walked over towards one of the tables, he used his tail to grab a bathtub sized bowl and pour the ingredients.

“Otual Varosh Sctial Redak Poratana!”  He chanted as he stirred the ingredients. There was small poof of violet smoke and the ingredients became a dark purple green syrup like concoction. After that display he used his tail to grab three vials and filled them with the potion.

“Take these to the dorms and drink these.” Drooler told the girls. They left his lab and started the walk back towards the dorms. After tapping the wall in the order they were given and entered the dorms, when they entered the dorms some noticed the vials.

“What did you steal from Mr.Fire Hazard?” Sashi asked her tone suspicious and her face colder than Antarctic ice.

“Relax he gave us these.” Sashi’s cold facade melted a little and she turned her attention away from them and went back to her, thankfully it wasn’t bigger than them, homework. The three girls went to the kitchen to drink it, hey they had enough crazy today and wanted a little normalcy. After drinking all of the bittersweet tasting potion the good twenty minutes they started to get impatient, mainly just Chloe.

“What’s taking so long!?!!?” As soon as she said a small wispy flame entered the dorms and stopped right in front of the. If that wasn’t strange enough the flame then turned into some sort of floating paper with something even stranger. ‘Hey girls I forgot to mention that it can take a few hours to take effect, so sorry for forgetting about that detail. -Sincerely Your Teacher Drooler’

After the girls the finished reading the letter it turned back into a wispy flame and sped back to its master. “That was kind of awesome, not going to lie.” Alya said with what could only be described as pure amazement at what just happened. While Chloe had a different feeling.

“Are you kidding me !?!?!?!” She yelled at the top of her lungs, which caused some of the other students to either glare at her or wanted to do extreme bodily harm to her. After a good 15 minutes of calming down Chloe, Adrien helped a lot, the girls went their semi-separate separate ways.  Marinette and Gaz had a videogame battle with each other, Alya and Connie were talking about the freaky stuff that happened where they live, and Chloe she tried to hang out with Adrien, she didn’t succeed. At curfew the girls went to the dorms and slept unaware that their bodies were changing and growing. Chloe woke up early to do her hair and to see if the potion made her even more amazing, but as she walked towards the bathroom she felt heavier than before. As she turned on the lights she saw and walked towards the sinks, something in the mirror that she never wanted to see. Her face was chubbier than normal, looking like Mylene, she looked down at her body and she saw that certain things were blocking her view of the floor.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH” A loud piercing scream erupted from Chloes’ lips and woke up the entire girls dorms.

“Ugh, will someone go shut up that prissy little queen bee!?” Sashi yelled.

“She probably just forgot to comb hair a hundred times. Also, who turned on the heat, it’s a thousand degrees in here??!” Alya yelled, she then threw off her covers and then saw something unexpected, her lower half was expanded greatly in fact it was close to the edge of the bed.

“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Alya let loose a surprised scream and it woke up the final one.

“Ugh guys could you keep it down?” Marinette grumbled from her covers, however she then bolted awake after she what happened to Alya.

“What happened to you?!!?!” Marinette asked with worry and fear.

“Umm, girl.” At that comment Marinette looked down at her body and she sees that her body had more padding than usual.

“AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!” That third scream caused two things to happen, one it woke up the boys and caused them to run towards the door of the girls dorm. Two it awoke someone who hated to hear someone messing with his students. Anyway, back to how the boys are handling the situation, it was a bit chaotic. Nino and Adrien were at the door worried for their friends, well Nino was mainly worried about Alya but don’t worry Adrien had enough worry for both Chloe and Marinette.

“Chloe, Marinette are you okay?!?!?” Adrien yelled through the door.

“Alya what happened?!?!” Nino asked his voice shaking with worry.

The others tried to contact their friends/siblings to see that if something wrong happened in there. Their fears weren’t diminished by the fact they felt the ground shake and it was getting more intense, then the wall entrance blew apart causing dust and small cubes to fill the student area. From the dust the kids saw glowing red dots and they were getting closer to them, when the dust cleared they saw Drooler on his knuckles stomping towards the door with his eyes pure red and glowing. He stopped in front Nino and Adrien, he looked down at the two boys and growled two words.

“Move now.” The two boys wanted to stand their ground and say no to him. However, Droolers’ entire body language screamed that if they didn’t move they would probably pay for it. When they did move the three-clawed hand at the end of his tail latched onto the door and ripped it of the hinges, he put the door down next to him. He tried to fit his body through the door, but he only got his head and part of his shoulder through. He looked in room and didn’t see the vengeful foe he was expecting, instead he saw Chloe crying and the others trying to comfort her.

“Well, well if it isn’t Mr.Fire Hazard here to finish the job?” Sashi harshly asked Drooler with a hateful glare sent to him. Drooler let out something like a dog’s whine and outside his wings slightly drooped.

“I’m sorry for what happened, I should’ve told you what happened, but I was an idiot for thinking that this could be avoided. I’m not asking for forgiveness nor do I deserve it.” He told the girls, who just looked at him with a mix of faces filled with awe and faces of trying to keep in laughter.

“What anime did you get that from?” Gaz asked trying to hold in laughter. Realizing and processing what he said Drooler just inwardly facepalmed and groaned.

“Okay, just forget that last part I tend to go a little carried away sometimes. I am sorry though for what happened.” Drooler said trying to cover up his embarrassment. While Chloe was getting angry with this unwanted change.

“Well sorry isn’t enough to restore my good looks!!!”

“I know the cure and how to make it, but it has to be made in my lab, before you ask why can’t I make it here it’s due to the lack of equipment and the cure could be contaminated.” He told not only the girls but the readers as well. Chloe’s face changed from anger to complete fear and worry.

“NO!!!! I can’t let anyone see me like this!!!!” Drooler just looked like someone punched him in chest. He then got himself out of the door and looked at the boys.

“Okay everyone close your eyes, I have to take them to my lab to cure them but one of them doesn’t want to be seen. Before you guys ask why you should do it.” His tail then grabbed the door and crushed it into a ball. After that they closed eyes and Drooler then the three girls to his lab. When he opened the door, the girls noticed that there was an old style, human sized, weighing scale. The girls just looked at Drooler and backed away from him slowly.

“It’s to see how much weight I have to take off to return you guys to normal.” He told them, the girls believed but kept an eye on him. After they were weighed Drooler then took their blood and started to run tests on it, when that was done he turned to the girls with his face carrying a mix of a smile and a frown.

“What’s with the smile?” Alya asked a little creeped but amazed how his the smile was on his left and frown on the right.

“Well I have no idea what facial expression mortals make when they deliver news. So, I mixed the two most common when giving people news.” All that did was cause the girls even more nervous.

“So the news?” All three of the girls asked their voices filled with worry.

“The good news is that I can get rid of 50% of the weight but the rest you guys are going to lose it on your own.” At this Chloe began to cry.

“Great now no one will love me now!” Drooler then became angry.

“So, what if it’s their loss you know why? Because you are a beautiful young girl and if anyone tells you otherwise---”

“Ignore them?” Marinette suggested, Drooler just looked a little sheepish and finished his sentence his voice having an embarrassed tone.

“Actually, I was going to kick them in the crotch but that also works. Causes less legal troubles too so win win.”  The three girls just deadpanned at what he said, though they smirk at his antics cheering up Chloe a little. It took 2 hours for him to create the antidote and for him to find a proper way to administer it. When he did administer the antidote the girls then glowed and began to lose weight until the glow faded away. The girls were still chubby but skinnier than this morning, Drooler gave them some new clothes which raised suspicions but the clothes fit and they were nice, and sent them back to the dorms. There were no class that day, later at night Behemoth was taking a walk through the school when he noticed that Drooler’s door was open and the lights were on. As he got closer he could hear small explosions and then a string of curses, Behemoth took a peak in the room and saw Drooler hunched over his potion table with a mountain of crumbled up scrolls behind him.

“Sir, what troubles you?” Behemoth asked, worried for him.

“Oh, hey Behemoth I’m just doing some late experimenting.” Drooler answered his voice sounding tired and defeated, Behemoth frowned at the answer knowing that he was lying. He then looked for a chair and when he did find one he pulled it close to the table, sat down and began to help with the experiments.

“What are you doing?”

“Sir, you’re going to need help if you want to make a better cure for those girls.” Drooler just smiled and patted Behemoth on the back.

“Thank you old friend.”

#miraculous ladybug #ml #steven universe #pzpth #au #weightgain #then weight loss #fanfic

[pinkvilla]

Game of Thrones Premiere: Sophie Turner, Emilia Clarke and more look ravishing on the red carpet

The final season of Game of Thrones premiered earlier today. All the cast members looked their best on the red carpet.

The cast of Game of Thrones reunited for the premiere party of the final season in New York City last evening. Fans are super excited to watch the six episodes of the last season and see what awaits the characters. For the red carpet, every cast member was dressed to the nines.  Everybody from Sophie Turner, Emilia Clarke, Kit Harrington Rose Leslie, Maisie Williams and more cleaned up well and slayed the red carpet in some of the most noteworthy outfits.

Here's a look at the stars who slayed the red carpet at the premiere.

Sophie Turner

Turner looked like a million bucks on the red carpet in a black Louis Vuitton zipper mini dress with a plunging sweetheart neckline. She completed this look with black strappy block heels and elegant diamond earrings. She opted for smokey eyes and nude lips, which made her look smoking on the red carpet.

Emilia Clarke

Daenerys Targaryen made a statement with her Cinderella-like chiffon gown on the red carpet. Slick back hair and dark moody lips gave a gothic spin to this blue-grey Valentino creation which also had the phrase "Leave your door open for me. I might sleepwalk into your arms," written across the chest.

Maisie Williams

The actress looked pretty in a playful halter neck dress with ruffle detailing and silver embellishments.

Rose Leslie

The pretty actress sported a detailed red one-shoulder A-line gown with a floor-sweeping trail. She opted for black strappy stilettos to complete this look. Kit Harington looked dapper beside his wife in a turtleneck black sweater, black blazer, black pants and shiny black shoes.

Lisa Bonet

Bonet opted for a black maxi dress with tribal prints on it while Jason Momoa looked rugged in black pants and a tee and a millennial pink denim jacket. He was a sight for sore eyes, we thought!

Natalie Dormer

Dormer looked sultry on the red carpet as she arrived in a black one-shoulder silk gown by Giorgio Armani. The gown had an embroidered bodice and fit the actress like a glove. Slick back hair, smokey eyes and nude lips completed her look.

Carice Van Houten

She looked like the epitome of sophistication in a white full sleeve floor-length gown with pointed sleeves and silver detailing. Her hair was parted in the centre and styled into loose waves while her makeup was kept to a minimum with basic eyeliner and pink lips.

Gwendoline Christie

Christie looked bold as fire herself at the event in a layered yellow and violet ruffled gown with exaggerated sleeves that made quite a statement. She kept her face fresh, with minimal make up while her hair was styled into wispy curls.

Who do you think looked the best on the red carpet? Comment below and let us know.

#gameofthrones got got8 gotpremiere

[butchstolemysweetroll]

Tagged by @saxrohmerwon ages ago on my brief other blog and just noticed it, thanks bruh ily <3

Rules:  Always post the rules, answer the questions given to you, then write 10 questions of your own, and tag some friends!

1. Favorite city (or town/small island/et cetera) in the world and why?

I guess it’d be Avalon. I basically spent every summer of my life there with family and it’s really small (only seven miles long) so you wind up going to the same few ice cream places or antique stores or pizza shops all the time but you never really get bored of it. The whole place has a quiet, old-timey shore town nostalgia to it too that’s super sweet. And like some of my all time favorite memories were staying on the beach until sunset when the lifeguards were gone so we could swim wherever we wanted, or climbing on the outfall pipe and walking to see how far out I was brave enough to go (it got “higher” ((read: the sand started to disappear)) the further out over the water you went), or walking on the beach at night. That was my favorite part, the nighttime. It’s weird how quiet but how alive everything got after dark, and I could hunt for ghost crabs or watch fireworks and the lights from town on the water, and the sand never bothered me as much when it was cool from the dark.

2. Describe your favorite scent/s.

Autumn, if that counts as a smell. But the combined scent of really brisk air and smoky burning leaves and fresh damp ones and hay and I guess plant life generally decaying, but in a sweet way? I also like flower smells obviously, and food smells, but those are boring to talk about. Gasoline, the specific kind of fake (cotton) paper money is printed on. Coffee. I’ve learned to kind of like the smell of cigarettes on clothes, because my boyfriend smokes and I like waking up in the sweater I wore the night before with that smell still on it. People have smells too. Like my mom smells like perfume even when she isn’t wearing any, and it’s nice. And babies smell rad and trigger ALL of my maternal impulses (cannot wait to reproduce, it’s gonna be gr8). And the boy smells really nice... Not even in like a what-deodorant-are-you-wearing kind of way but like skin and sweat and waking up warm in a cold house on Wednesday mornings. And when he comes home from work smelling like fresh cut grass and wet dirt it’s v nice.

3. Who is/was your favorite teacher and why?

My Romantic Lit professor currently, because he teaches exactly what I want to teach and I have a career crush on him. He’s also just super excitable and enthusiastic (let’s talk about that WEIRD weekend in Geneva the Shelleys took guys! Blake was an EDGELORD!) which I love.

I also had a professor at my old school who was super cool and helped me through a lot of shit? I took her personal essay class right as I was sort of in recovery for depression following a terrible, low key emotionally unhealthy (abusive? I still don’t know if I can use that word? Either way, OVER-SHARING YAY) romantic relationship and I explored that and a lot of other stuff pertaining to my childhood and relationships and discovering my queerness in my work for her class, and she was super supportive and involved in helping me experiment with new formats and really use writing as a therapeutic tool and it helped me heal a lot. She was also just a super cool lady (lots of tattoos and wispy blonde hair and a quiet voice, kind of a hipster fairy) who hung out with me at a local music festival in town when I was like fresh out of the hospital and having trouble being around my normal friends. She just always made sure her door was open and went out of her way to make me feel better, and to this day I appreciate that.

4. What is your favorite poem?  (Substitute with “song” if you don’t have a favorite poem.)

Oh my GOD, don’t make me choose. I’m obsessed with the Romantics and a few contemporaries have my heart, but I guess I’d have to say “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” by Robert Frost. It’s just beautiful and hopeful and simple enough that tiny me could fall in love with it and appreciate it almost in its fullness when I was too young to grasp other works.

5. Weirdest thing you’ve ever heard out-of-context?

Ever? I don’t tend to remember stuff like that for a long time unless I’d like hypothetically overheard a murder or something, but last night some girl was walking back from our student center with her friends and angrily shouted that she wanted to “put her dong through a snare drum” which made me laugh.

6. Best concert experience?  (If you have never been to a concert, what do you hope your first concert will be?)

Still gotta say Green Day after just turning 15 years old. I’d never been to a concert before and they were my favorite band at the time. I was so proud to be there because I had 0 dollars to my name and no one would hire me because I was underage, so I had to earn every penny for those tickets doing gross menial work like removing and scrubbing window frames that hadn’t seen soap in maybe a decade (SO MANY SPIDERS), and teeny bopper me thought that was 'punk.’ And at one point Billie Joe Armstrong, who my pathetic little emo self wanted to MARRY told the audience he was proud of everyone who’d worked their ass off to afford to come see them play and I remember turning to my dad and screaming “HE MEANS ME!” It was so wholesome.

7. Favorite holiday (or other special occasion) and why?

Christmas! My house was THE Christmas house growing up. My parents put so much effort into it and it was the cutest thing. Besides the outrageous amount of decorations and the amazing food that takes all week to make and the cute tradition of having my grandparents spend the night to watch us open presents first thing in the morning, the best part of Christmas growing up was definitely the effort my family put into making us kids believe Santa was real for way longer than necessary. One year my uncle got a flashlight and a red solo up and climbed trees in our yard so we’d see “Rudolph’s nose” if we looked out the window. We put out reindeer food every year. My dad would stomp around shaking jingle bells and someone always climbed on the roof making noise, and my mom knew calligraphy, so she’d write us scrolls from Santa on legit parchment and toast it in the oven so it would curl. One year we had an old, old family friend who was a Santa impersonator show up with a legit sleigh and a giant book with all the family member’s names and the years they were naughty and nice in it and stories about why and it was so cute. So whereas most kids found out around like 8 my parents went to extreme lengths so that I believed it until I was like 11 and honestly, I’m really glad they did, because it was a kick ass childhood. I definitely want to be that level of extra when I become a parent.

8. Did you ever play an instrument growing up?  If so, how did it go for you?

Guitar, bass, after I learned guitar I could play pretty much anything pluckable with strings, so I had a Romanian lap harp (I was such a cool kid) and I would sometimes play my sister’s viola (often incorrectly and like a guitar, but it was fun to sample when I recorded stuff). I haven’t sang or touched an instrument in like seven years though. I kind of gave up after sad life stuff happened but I want to pick it back up again. I really miss music.

9. If you were given $100 today, what would you do with the money?

Use it toward Christmas presents for loved ones. Since I’m basically not allowed out of the house after I go home for break I have to do Christmas early with the friends and boyfriend.

10. What’s the scariest movie you have ever seen?  (Define scary however you like.)

I love scary movies so this is hard, but I guess anything in which children are genuinely evil? Like not even in a supernatural way; it’s not horror but watching We Need To Talk About Kevin fucked me up. I guess being a mom is like so much something that I want, and imagining that happening would def keep me up at night. Especially because I would not know what to do.

Now, for questions:

1. What’s your favorite article of clothing?

Dresses but also plain black leggings. And I have very soft sweatpants that fit just right.

2. Do you still sleep with a stuffed animal?

Nope. I can’t sleep with the live one either lol, Bynx likes to sleep RIGHT where I want to roll over and screams and puts his paws in my mouth when he wants attention.

3. Do you believe in heaven? Hell?

Both, Catholic.

4. Do you listen to podcasts? What are your favorite ones?

Not really, but I’d like to, in theory. It just seems like more effort somehow than watching TV and I am always tired.

5. What was your go-to game during recess?

Four square.

6. Where do you see yourself in the next ten years– not in a job interview kind of way, but actually?

Awwww this is cute to think about. I guess I’d like to be living in like a really woodland but not isolating place, somewhere where my house can be on a lake or by woods or mountains but if I drive ten minutes there’s a cozy-sized town with all I need. Maybe in like Virginia or Vermont. I’m a professor of Gothic Literature at the local college, and my students are engaged and inspiring and call me by my first name. I’m in a pretty and not-too-big house, but it’s warm and smells like our fireplace. I’m married to my lovely guy, and both our jobs are flexible enough that we can have dinner as a family and spend time with our brood of kids. And they pay well enough that we might not be wealthy but we never have to worry. The cat’s still with us and we’ve got a dog, too. We go on camping trips and The Lumberjack teaches the kids how to build fires and tie knots and dad stuff like that. One of the kids at least loves reading and the house is full of books - I’ve got a home office full of bookshelves and a reading nook. We’ve got a porch where we can bundle up and drink wine in the evening after the kids are in bed. We’re not rich but not poor, and our families get along and come to visit. My parents still ask us over for Christmas every year. Wherever I teach, my kids can go there for free.

7. Do you have a favorite visual artist? Who are they?

Oh lord, I don’t know. I mean I like art but I hate the process of liking art. It’s so much more involved than “I like how this piece makes me feel” and I don’t enjoy that. I like individual pieces and I don’t know enough about art to really speak on it.

I guess, though, I like Dali and Khalo as people. They seem unpretentious and fun. Which is surprising because I guess the way their work is talked about you’d think the opposite.

8. Do you really like a food that most people think is disgusting? Or, do you like a popular food to a disgusting degree?

Not really but like I put too much hot sauce / jalapenos on everything and it disgusts people. And I put way too much sugar in coffee, and creamer too.

9. What music did your parents play in the house/car?

My mom is a New Wave junkie like me and my dad had more complicated taste. He was never big into music, so he only really likes a few artists for their voices and some songs for nostalgia. So we listened to a lot of oldies and swing and Judy Garland, but he also loved Blondie and Boston.

10. What would you tell your 15-year-old self?

I’d tell her she’s a lot stronger than she’s going to think she is one day and to tough it out. That people love her and will love her. That when you get older, family is hard, but it’s worth it to work on things. That she’s smarter than she thinks she is and should try harder in school, because when she finally does have faith in herself, it’ll pay off. 

Tagging whoever else wants to do this - it’s cold and rainy (here at least) and we could all use a day of warm socks and procrastinating with asks, honestly.