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creativeashproductions · 1 year

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Constellations // Wally Clark

IN WHICH: reader is a secret ghost at Split River High School attached to the roof where Wally stumbles onto for solitude. With the new arrival of Maddie Nears a year later a secret comes out.

Warnings: Swearing, talk of a undisclosed medical condition, divorce, angst, and fluff

Words: 2.4k

A/N: Of course it’s a ghost show that revives this blog of writing. Am I surprised? No. Is Julie? Definitely not.

Masterlist

You’d have never anticipated the sound of Luke Bryan’s Country Girl being an okay soundtrack to watching the stars. But you’d also never expected discovering the afterlife so soon. Occasionally, you would hear a mixture of the living and the dead on the ground or through an open window, but you typically stayed on the roof.

It had been the hangout spot for the volleyball team when you were alive. The championship game had been the last time a living foot, other than maintenance, had stepped on this roof.

Most of the team had graduated, and the broken doors that couldn’t hold up against the wind were changed. So now it was only you. Reliving the excitement and stupid teenage decisions. And avoiding Mr. Martin and his afterlife support group because he was unsettling, to say the least.

“This spot taken?” Your head lolled to the side, finding a fellow dead jock standing above you.

Wally Clark had discovered you on the fifteenth anniversary of his father’s not coming to the Homecoming game. He’d wanted a quiet place and one where Janet wouldn’t follow.

2022 Day After Homecoming Game

The door slammed from the stairwell slammed open, and the muffled sound of sniffling could be heard. Then, the shuffling of sneakers came to an abrupt stop.

“Oh. Sorry.”

Your eyes left the book in your hands to the tall teen towering over you. One of the longer-term ghosts residing at Split River High School.

“I-I didn’t know anyone used the roof. Are you new?”

“Nope. Been residing in the afterlife awhile now.” You responded, leaning against the roof’s edge, “Proceed for whatever you were here for.”

Whatever emotional breakdown he was about to have ceased in favour of plopping right down beside you. His head shifting more in your peripheral. He froze when your fingers stopped moving in page-turning.

“Oh, sorry.” He leaned away sheepishly, “Am I annoying you?”

Your brows furrowed, “I’ve read the book a few times. So what brings you to my humble death place.”

“You died up here? Wouldn’t we have heard about-?”

“I didn’t die up here.” You interrupted him to shift to face him fully, “You’re the guy the stadium is named after, right?”

“Wally Clark.” The ghost said, holding his hand out. You exchanged your name in response. Wally slowly repeated your name as if savouring it.

“So seriously, are you okay? You were crying-“

“I died on the football field in 1984. Last night was the first time my dad wasn’t there.” Wally breathed, tilting his head to stare at the sky, “It really hits home that time is going by, and I’m standing still.”

You nudged his knee with your own, “I’m sorry about that. You’re welcome to hang out here to get away.”

“That’d be nice. I feel like all the ghosts expect me to be the outgoing, always happy guy.”

“How was the dance?” You asked as Wally settled on the ground beside you. The ends of his white bowtie hung loosely, and his suit jacket draped across his lap.

“It’s alright. Could have been better.” He spoke, dropping his arm around your shoulders to tug you into his side, “Simon persuaded the DJ to play a couple real hits. One day I’m gonna convince you to go with me.”

Your lips twitched. It was a pastime of Wally’s trying to get you to join in with everyone, especially with the whole drama with the new girl. Thankfully he understood and respected your decision to keep away.

You hadn’t spent years in secret from the support group for no reason. Instead, you existed peacefully in their obliviousness on the roof.

“Nah, I much prefer spending time up here.” You grinned, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “Maddie settling in?”

“She’s adjusting as well as she can. Rhonda’s warming up to her. The whole thing she had with Simon is nuts still.”

Maddie Nears, aka the newbie, had shown up suddenly in the afterlife with no memory of her death. Or the events leading up. The pool of suspects is deep, and the desperation to be found alive is strong.

As he relayed the new development, you tried to think of anything but what you had done today. How do you tell your dead boyfriend something that makes Maddie and Simon’s communication seems like child’s play?

“-What about your day?” Wally questioned, moving so you’re leaning your back against his chest.

You sighed happily when his arms came to wrap around your shoulders and press his lips to your head.

“I snuck down to the lost and found for a new book. Mina left a couple things for me too.”

The friendship you had with the ghost of the stagehand mind boggled Wally. Mina hadn’t left the theatre since the stage light fell on her in the late ’80s. She was eccentric, to say the least, but the only ghost other than Wally that knew about you.

“How? She always screams at us.” Wally chuckled, “Maddie’s the first that cracked through.”

“I got her a script for a production she loves and let her direct me on her birthday.” You hummed, crossing your ankles. Your eyes flinched open in perfect sync with Wally’s tensing up.

“How did you get a script-“Wally trailed off, staring at the stars twinkling under the night sky, “Whoa, wait.”

Wally’s mind flickered to the conversation with Maddie after talking with Mina.

“There’s another ghost. Mina mentioned something about me not being the first ghost outlier. That me talking to Simon isn’t earth shattering.”

Wally’s eyes swept from Ursa Major to your e/c eyes, refusing to lock with his dark brown.

“Can you talk to the living?” Wally demanded, shifting away. The space he created cracks your heart more.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Maddie’s the only one. I can just…sorta leave the school grounds?” You trailed off with a wince. The betrayal is a wicked shattering force to your bubble with the former football player.

“…you can leave the school? And not be slammed back to where you died?!” Wally’s fists went straight into his dark strands. The hair being tugged under his stress.

“Because I didn’t technically die here. I had a health condition and was declared clinically dead a few times. So, wherever my heart stopped, and I escaped, that death destination is a place where I could go. It hurts.”

Wally scoffed, blinking, “We spent the last year, and you kept that a secret. You never told me anything about how you died or this huge thing for over a year. I’ve told you everything.”

Your lips parted to respond, but the door was already slamming behind Wally on his descent back into the building. His long legs eating up half the stairwell by the time you’d opened the door.

“Wally! Wally, wait!” You shouted, sprinting down the stairs, “I swear I was going to tell you!”

The expression on his face was enough to freeze you on the last step, “Don’t you have another place to haunt.”

Your mouth dropped open, watching him disappear in the sea of living students still on school grounds. Your eyes find the blue irises of Maddie Nears. Surprise lighting up in her gaze. Your expression twisted before turning on your heel to flee the area.

The last thing you wanted was to talk with the girl you were assigned to show around on her first day. Stupid school tradition pairing a senior with a freshman.

“Hey!”

Maddie popped around the corner to a dead end where you were nowhere to be found. Instead, you’d slipped into a space where you popped up in a different area of Split River with a sheer scream at the pain.

The fight with Wally kept you from returning to the school grounds. You didn’t know a particular ghost was spending hours on the roof anxiously waiting for you. Instead, you were watching your half-sister playing with her Barbie doll in the backyard of your childhood home.

Your arms tugged your legs to your chest. You rarely visited your family home since you watched the paramedics had arrived at 3am four years ago to remove your corpse from the house.

“Ava!”

Your head watched the little girl with piggy tails perk up, hearing your shared father’s voice. Your eyes take in the person you miss most in the world. It always hurt seeing the dimness your death had caused in his eyes.

The streaks of grey in his hair and beard showed the grief of losing you had caused. The guilt he barely masked from your sister.

“Daddy!” Ava beamed, diving into his arms, “Are we taking Sissy flowers?”

Your lip quivered, hearing the adoration coating each word Ava spoke with that lisp. Speech therapy and growing up making the lisp less pronounced. Ava had barely been two when you died.

The product of your father finding love again with a wonderful person who loved you and happily stepped into a parent role. You’d lucked out with getting a really great step-parent and a half-sister but a shitty hand for health.

“Absolutely. Do you think Sissy would like daisies this time?” Your grin grew, listening to Ava burst into excitement.

You watched as the car disappeared around the corner before entering the house. Your room barely had any dust from Riley’s insistence on keeping it clean. Sometimes Ava would toddle in with a toy and curl in your bed to sleep.

Your clothing is still hung in the closet, your computer on your desk and all your pictures on the corkboard. Your phone was already safely tucked in your pocket with the charging cord in your backpack from the first visit back to the house.

The last time you visited your home was Ava’s birthday a few months ago. Long enough, the air freshener in your room had changed to the scent you loved during springtime. So it was time to rotate out a few items of clothing you wore.

Your eyes lingered on the picture of your volleyball team wearing matching homemade t-shirts. A year after you died, they got together for a volleyball charity event in your name. Last you heard, two of them had become nurses, and one was on the career path to research your condition.

The following photo was of your mom holding you in her arms with a beaming grin matching yours. You hoped the move to Hawaii brought that smile back. You hoped Matthew was everything she deserved. You hoped she learnt how to live life again.

“I miss you.” You murmured, pressing your fingers against her smiling face.

The tears obscured your vision and the pacing form of your boyfriend when you opened the rooftop door. Your breathing gasping when his arms wrapped tight around your body.

“I am so sorry.” Wally mumbled in the crook of your neck, “Where were you? I’ve been up here for the last three days.”

“I went home.” You whispered, pressing your forehead to his chest, “I-I don’t leave often. It hurts when I leave a place I died, like the universe or some bullshit forgets this isn’t the only place I died. So it’s like I’m gonna be spit out back in my death place here before I’m in my destination.”

You barely noticed when Wally tugged you to sit in the same spot he first met and talked to you. The roof’s gravel gives the feeling of digging in your jeans; you gave up trying to explain the metaphysical world a year after your death. Instead, Wally listened as you opened up the pieces of yourself you had kept to yourself.

“I was born healthy and lived healthily for a few years before I started getting sick. It broke my parents’ hearts. By the time I was sixteen, I had spent half my life in hospitals and doctors’ offices. Promises of working treatments and possibly experimental trials.” Your gaze stared off into the distance, “It was just noise by the time I graduated. I knew my body had a couple more miles before it would give out.”

“How are you….”

“I collapsed in the gym. I was clinically dead for a minute, but it was enough for this school to be a death destination. The mall once, the hospital twice, and the talk of transplants came around. Finally, I died in my backyard. It was late, and I was alone outside.”

You vividly remembered screaming beside your corpse. Sobbing when you heard your dad break down, cradling you in his arms. Him calling you your childhood nickname and the one you heard in home videos of ‘baby girl’.

“That’s why you love the roof so much. You died watching the stars.” Wally whispered, tilting his head to kiss your temple. His fingers toying with the sweater with the volleyball team logo.

“I did.” You chuckled, “I have a little sister named Ava. She’s five now. She has minimal memories of me, but her favourite thing is bringing flowers to my grave. This past visit was daisies. My dad remarried when I was in middle school, and my mom a couple years before I died.”

“Your parents still live in Split River?”

“My dad and Riley live in my childhood home with Ava. I think they’re talking about maybe having another baby. My mom took my death the worst. Her older brother died in 1995 with his band members. My mom moved to Hawaii with her husband. Split River had too many memories for her. So when Matt was offered a job there, they left.”

“Ava.” Wally hummed, “I like that name.”

“Maddie knew me.” You offered after laying with Wally for a while in comfortable silence. His fingers draw shapes on your bare back under the sweater. His fingers briefly halted before moving again, “When you were alive, did Split River do this thing where a senior was paired with a freshman?”

“Oh yeah. I got paired up with this insanely smart guy. He went on to found this hugely popular website like that Facebook you showed me.”

“Myspace? You got paired with one of the founders?” You spoke, blinking at his grin, “Well, when I was a senior, I got paired with Maddie. Before her dad died, he worked with mine. So, I knew her at work BBQs.”

“Speaking about Maddie…do you want to re-meet her and meet my friends?”

Your eyes narrowed, “This is dues for keeping the secret.”

“Oh, 100%. Secret stays between us, but yeah, you’re definitely meeting my friends. You should check out the support group, Mr. M isn't too bad.”

Tag List:

@websterssrss

#wally clark x reader #wally clark imagines #school spirits imagines #milo manheim #school spirits 2023 #caitsy and ash productions

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livingformintyoongi · 22 hours

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BTS fic recs

I wanted to do this a while ago, but felt like I hadn't read enough, until I checked my likes and got a shock to the face lol. I wanted to give some recommendations of some fics (and a series) that I quite enjoyed reading, plus leave a small review because I feel like it's very underrated to comment on what you like something (people, comment more, I swear it makes a writer feel so much better than a like). There's the occasional spoiler in the reviews, so I recommend you read it carefully or just skip the comment ^^.

Dawning by @wintaerbaer JJK

summary: He’s never invited into your world during these late night sessions. You always push him away or ignore him. This is new. warnings: heavy depictions of depression and panic attacks, a brief line where taehyung worries oc is s**cidal. I really loved this fic. For a moment I thought it was some kind of two shot or something, but it only has this one part. Still, I felt the author captured the emotions very well. It felt so realistic that even I was worried when Y/N disappeared lol.

Bottle up old love by @wintaerbaer KTH

summary: Jungkook may have broken up with you a year ago, but that's not going to stop him from coming to your rescue when he sees you being cornered by a creep. warnings: language, a short harassment scene at the beginning (nothing too intense), explicit content including: unprotected sex (DO NOT), fingering, praise kink, biting, marking, spanking, cum eating (sort of?), big cawk soft dom jk, cowgirl (yeehaw), creampie, cockwarming. This fic made me remember why I love the exes to lovers trope. I loved seeing Jungkook as a tattoo artist, it's like, I don't know, so him, anyway, I loved it. I just found this account yesterday in the wee hours of the morning and I'm already loving it <3.

Cat-astrophe & Cat-enaries by @dumpywrites MYG

Summary: Your pet cat keeps going to your neighbor’s apartment and it’s a problem. I fell in love with this Yoongi like you have no idea. When I just read the first part I was so eager to keep reading, seriously, I loved it, it deserves so much love.

Two Days by @dumpywrites JJK

Summary: He just wants you to give him two days. He'll take you on a few dates and you'll decided if you actually like him? Or not? I live for Jungkook being simp of the reader, I feel it's so real lol. This fic made me feel so warm inside, it was too cute to read. It's kind of like my comfort fic.

S'more than friends by @borathae MYG

Warnings: subby!Yoongi, switchy!Reader, consumption of beer, so much awkward tension, jealousy, sex in a tent, mutual masturbation, handjob, fingering, making out aye, Yoongi loves her boobs and she loves his butt it’s a win-win, sex while other people are sleeping, public sex, she has a thing for his hands (but what’s new lmao), fluffy post-orgasm talks because I’m soft. I read it a while ago now, but I remember when I did I felt so soft. This Yoongi is just too cute.

Please don't go by @httpjungkookcom JJK

Summary | Jungkook’s never kept anything from you, ever. Not even the time where he tripped and accidentally kicked your dog, or when he fucked the most popular girl in high school and couldn’t make himself cum (poor guy was embarrassed for weeks), or when he accidentally rubbed all of his acceptance letters in your face without realizing. To put it short, Jungkook is an open book to you. So when he suddenly disappears, there’s a lot to question. Even more to question when he finally gets back and won’t tell you anything, going as far to avoid you. You’re on a mission to figure it out, even if it kills you. Index | Jungkook is so smart, but so stupid at the same time. Jungkook is not sly in the slightest. Kind of angst, fighting, arguing, bickering, etc. Criminal activity, it’s a Spider-Man fic. Injuries and mention of blood. College setting and age, reader and Kook share the same major. Some cute fluffy moments in between all of the action. Aunt Yoon is essentially Aunt May in the Marvel story line. Spiderkook, is more needed to read this fic? It was the first one I read about this au and I was WONDERED. God, you can't imagine how much I loved it. I thought it was so cute the way Jk approached reader being in his suit….

Accidental roommates by @jjkeverlast JJK

summary: moving apartments is stressful and difficult enough as it is. all the planning and packing and multiple moments of rearranging furniture; all you crave is peace. yet it seemed like peace was far within reach as the owner of the apartment had left out one tiny crucial detail from the ad — a ripped tattooed adonis, coupled, with a tiny baby daughter will come as your roommate. warnings: second hand embarrassment | jungkook's abs | annoying antics | suppressed feelings | both of them are stubborn and petty (it's gets tiring lmfao) | mentions of past relationships | a lot of time stamps | sexual tension | ft. namjoon 👀 | !constant change of perspective between reader and jungkook. I have a tremendous weakness with dilf, no matter who it is, I just love them. I think this was the first one I read by Jungkook. It was so fun and easy to read that the 14.7k words flew by for me.

Silk & Stones by @taegularities KTH

Summary: “Taehyung was a writer… he was a writer indeed.” Kim Taehyung knows his way around words – they cast a spell on your heart and mind, leave you gasping dangerously fast. Until the mystery behind his persona unveils and his touch, along with his words, becomes a vivid memory. warnings: writer + violinist tae 🥺 who’s a gentleman in the 19th century, brief mention of injuries/a mental institution, misunderstandings, heartbreak, secrets, grief, much poetry (and my attempt at writing a poem, pls spot), much disgoosting fluff, flirting and lots of sexual tension; explicit sexual content: 2 sex(y) scenes, fingering on a boat, choking, teasing, begging, praising, soft dom!tae, big dick!tae, tiddie fondling/sucking, some manhandling, dirty talk, they’re just so cute :((, oral (f. and m. receiving), some masturbation, oc is into neck kisses, some biting, fingering, hair pulling, asking for permission :(, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (it’s the 19th century...), aftercare; there’s quite some angst ok; lmk if i forgot smth !! This was a work of art for me. I felt so immersed in the story, so confused by the time changes and everything surrounding Taehyung, but I loved it, one of the best stories I've read of Taehyung since I joined tumblr.

17 going on 27 by @hansolmates JJK

summary; one second, you’re sobbing at prom because the most popular guy in school dumps you due to your relationship being a little prank to break your heart. the next? you’re a creative editor at Ego, the hottest young adult fashion magazine. as you try to figure out what’s the deal with this sudden time skip into adulthood, you come across relationships and friendships that are made to be cherished and made to be broken. genre/warnings; fluff, crack, future enemies to lovers, teenage and adulthood angst, time skips from high school!au to late twenties!au, 13 going on 30!au, all your romantic movie tropes come to life! a really big mess honestly, various movie and music references, mentions of sex, use of alcohol, everyone give jin and jimin a big ol hug, language, a surprise guest from the queen of england. I love adaptations, especially ones that add their own touch, and the writer did it so well. She made me hate Jungkook, and then love him, and then hate him again, in the end I ended up resenting him, I wanted reader to stay with Jin lol, but I still loved it. Definitely my favorite part was having Jimin as a best friend, I loved watching him take on Jungkook in the car. We all need a friend like him.

Hot Bot by @httpjeon JJK/PJM/KTH/JHS

JJK: You order a sex robot online after getting a coupon for half off. however, there’s something strange about yours. PJM: Fear is primal and causes one to make stupid decisions. KTH: Your parents have a gift for you, however, there’s been a mistake. JHS: As a product tester, you have one of the most sought after temporary positions in Hot Bot Inc. This is a series that has smut, I think the name gives it away. It's rather sad that the writer is on hiatus, but he left the gems of his works open to the public. The series is pretty good, I fell in love with Jungkook (and Yoongi kskjdsksjds). Highly recommended.

The proposal by @hansolmates JJK

summary; Jeon’s the editor-in-chief for Big Hit Publishings, a closet romantic with a penchant for antagonizing his assistant on the reg. When his work visa is in the process of being renewed and he takes a trip to Norway, his eligibility to stay in America is on the line. However Jeon Jungkook doesn’t go without a fight, and in order to save his job he offers you a proposal you can't refuse. genre/warnings; the proposal!au, fake marriage au, enemies to friends(!!!), friends to lovers, bouts of flangst, dry humping, slight blood but not too bad, lang, alcohol, poor jjk discovers he has the ability to feel emotion, poor y/n is in the middle as always. I was looking for an adaptation of this movie for so long that when I found this one I almost cried with emotion. I LOVED the movie and the concept it had, and I was so happy to read this fic that captures that very romcom essence that the movie has. I loved it.

Marshmallows and report cards by @untaemedqueen KTH

Warnings: Impreg Kink, Marking, Cunnilingus, Fingering, Birthday Sex, Spitting, Begging, Praise, Fellatio, Face Fucking, Big Dick!Tae, Multiple Orgasms, Unprotected Sex, Possessive!Tae, Cock Warming, Creampie. I already confessed, this kind of fics get to me. I remember reading it and melting with the ending. I read it a long time ago, so I can't give a longer opinion, but I do remember that I loved it and came out internally squealing after I finished it.

Orange tulips by @kainks JJK

Summary: You’d remember Jungkook with every life you lived. Only he’d never remember you, never recall how your fates were written in the stars since the beginning of time. Genre: Angst. Fluff. Light Smut. The anxiety and helplessness I felt reading this fic are on another level. This scarred me, I read it once and I was never the same person again. It was wonderful, I felt so many things and I was so nervous during the whole reading that I almost didn't even realize when it was over. It is a very enjoyable fic.

What if I love you too much? by @taleasnewastime

Summary: Jungkook. It’s only a name you learn after your son kicks his ball over the fence. Before that you only knew him as the hot new neighbour who mows his lawn topless. And though you have no intention of getting to know him anymore than that, inevitably you do. You don’t necessarily fall, it’s too slow for that, but you definitely develop feelings you don’t intend to feel. Because you know men like him, and you know that whatever you’re feeling, he’s probably not feeling the same. All the same, however hard you try, you can’t help yourself. Warnings: Single mum, small fights, explicit sexual content, oral (f receiving), safe penetrative sex, reader thinks Jungkook is cheating/playing the field, angst, but also fluff, child gets injured (though not seriously), talks of cuts and a small amount of blood. This fic left me feeling bad, it even made me question some future decisions regarding my relationship with my future partner and the necessary communication that must be had in a relationship from the beginning, especially if there is a child in the middle. It was something I really enjoyed reading, and even though I had my internal dilemmas with Jungkook, the drabbles in the story helped me a lot to let go of my grudge (I swear I have nothing personal with him sksjkajskajsj).

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backwardsbread · 1 month

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Hello !!

Don’t mine me dropping in a request but I HAVE BECOME OBSESSED with your writing (it’s such a good way off letting off steam and the way you write the characters make it so bealive you can’t convince me u don’t work for vivziepop) ANYWAYS.

I was wondering if you could write headcannons for husk x oblivious!reader? Like basically EVERYONE in the hotel know that husk has a crush on the reader (even thought he keeps denying it) but reader is just oblivious to this. And like angel and alastor always tease him about this right in readers face and she just doesn’t get it which makes husk more flustered ? I HAVE FALLEN INTO THE RABBIT HOLE OF HUSKS DEEP VOICE 💔

(Reader could be gn or AFAB, really anything you are comfortable writing with :3!!)

Hope this reaches you in a good time :33 !!!!

You guys- everytime I open my inbox and see such sweet messages and AMAZING requests— MY HEART CANT HANDLE IT.

That being said, this prompt is GOLD. I hope I did it justice!

Hazbin Hotel:

Husk x Oblivious!Reader

Warnings‼️: none really? Light swearing, Lots of fluff, Fem!Reader, use of Y/N.

~Not proofread~

To me, Husk is almost insecure about his feelings.

He likes to keep things real and genuine, done get me wrong, but he’s constantly listening to other people’s drama and thoughts.

He’s a good source of comfort for the hotel guests, including you. Someone who will listen to you without judgement.

I think how he starts falling for you has to do with this. You’d stay up late nights with Husk while he closes the bar, often times turning the tables on him.

Asking him how he’s doing, what he did throughout the day, even something as simple as asking fun facts about him

Your guys’ game of 20 questions became a norm every night. Slowly you creeped over the walls Husk had put around himself. Something Husk didn’t realize you had done until it was far too late.

The warm feeling he gets in his chest after your guys’ interactions wells up into butterflies in his gut. It doesn’t take long for him to get feelings for you when you were always nothing short of perfect in his eyes.

Since he’s one to usually keep his feelings to himself, he tries to hide this from you and the other attendees of the hotel.

But once he actually realizes he has a crush on you, oh buddy, is he OBVIOUS.

His calm and cool demeanor shifting into anxiety whenever anyone brings the topic of you up or even dares to ask if you two are an item.

It doesn’t help that Alastor can read him like a book after many years of owning Husk’s soul.

Even so, Husk can’t help the way his voice and demeanor soften whenever interacting with you.

I can definitely see Angel noticing this next and making a SCENE about it. He didn’t mean to embarrass his friend, but he can’t help poking fun.

(Also, Angel was mildly upset that Husk hadn’t just told him about his feelings towards you. Angel would be the best wingman.)

Angel does try to set the two of you up frequently, trying to nudge you guys to make things official.

Except one teensy weensy issue.

You completely misunderstood Husk’s advancements towards you as friendly banter.

Confusing your own interest towards him as simple excitement to hang out with him.

Angel and Alastor find this hilarious

Both of them are able to openly tease Husk around you while you have no clue what they’re insinuating.

They just watch Husk panic as they outright call him out on his crush. While you just stare at them confused as if they’re telling an inside joke.

It drives Husk bonkers how you don’t seem to catch on to his flirting or feelings for you.

He honestly doesn’t know what was worst, you not realizing his feelings, or the fact you responded to his advances so nonchalantly.

Can you imagine Husk gets the courage to hold your hand or something, and you’re just like

‘Oh this is a thing now! Alright anyways-.’

And just move on as if nothing happened/changed.

He even asks you out on dates occasionally, but instead of it turning out as alone time, you end up inviting other hotel members.

And he just can’t say no to you so he’s left with joining a group dinner, with apologetic looks from Angel and amused grins from Alastor.

When Husks asks for it to just be the two of you, you assume he’s in an argument with the other hotel attendees.

“Oh are you in an argument with Angel right now? What happened?”

“Is Alastor pissing you off? I can talk to Charlie about it! She’ll get it handled.”

It drives Husk NUTS. Every innocent move you make leaves him even more flustered.

The fact that you don’t even seem phased by it leaves him feeling frustrated and kind of rejected.

Which was never your intent! You just didn’t understand your feelings for the ex overlord and his towards you.

————————————————————————

You were in Angel’s hotel room. He was picking out an outfit for you, throwing you in all different kinds of combinations. Different dresses with different styles, cute skirts and tops, jumpsuits, you name it. You enjoyed the little game of dress up he was playing with you, but you weren’t sure the exact reasoning for suddenly using you as a model.

“Okay okay, this one is so cute.” You walk out of Angel’s bathroom, a huge grin on your face. Angel looks over towards you, wolf whistling as he looks you up and down.

You were dolled up in a burnt orange dress that was bedazzled in rhinestones. The shiny stones making diamond patterns along the dress. It had puffy sleeves made of tool that fell off your shoulders. The dress hugged your waist and the skirt flowed out, reaching just past your knee.

You look at yourself in the full length mirror, doing a little spin to see yourself in full view. Angel approached you, making sure the zipper on the back of the dress was all the way up and secure.

“You look hot, toots! The color really suits you.” Angel compliment while you ruffled your hair to give it more volume. You giggle at his compliment, continuing to admire yourself in the mirror.

There was a timid knock on Angel’s door, making the spider demon grin and turn on his heel. You kept admiring your outfit in the mirror while Angel answered the knock.

“Right on time!” Angel said as he opened the door. You look in the mirror to see who was at the door behind you. Husk was there, grumbling a bit at Angel’s enthusiasm.

Your smile brightened, turning to look over at Husk. Once he got full view of you in that dress, he froze, his face flushing dark hues of magenta. Husk was also dressed nicely, more put together than usual. His hat not on its usually place between his ears, his hair done up nice, a burnt orange bow tie complimenting a new grey suit he was wearing.

“Hey, look, we match!” You exclaim, grinning ear to ear. Angel sighed while Husk blinked out of his tiny daydream.

“I- uh.. looks like we do.” Husk muttered, his embarrassment getting the better of him. You both stayed quiet for a bit, the anticipation absolutely killing Angel. After what felt like ages of silence, Angel went over to you, nudging you towards Husk.

“Ahem, (Y/N), Husk here was actually wondering if you would accompany him tonight. There’s this new place that he’s been dying to try. It’s got some real fancy food!” Angel gave Husk a look as he tried to get the ball rolling. Husk only blushed and looked towards you to see how you reacted to his- well Angel’s- proposal.

“Ooo! Sounds great! I’d love to. Are you coming too?” You questioned. The ask made Husk die a little inside.

“No, nope. I’ve got some uh..things to attend to! So just the two of you. A date, you could call it.” Angel clarified, giving a not so subtle wink towards Husk, who returned it with a glare.

You feel your face heat up and for some reason your heart seems to skip a beat. Just you and Husk? There was nothing wrong with that. But the idea excited you nonetheless. Now that you thought about it, it was rare you and Husk got time alone outside the hotel. Sure he had suggested going out often. But not on.. a date as Angel had suggested.

You smile, moving to link your arm with Husk’s, “Yeah! That sounds great actually.”

Husk looks surprised at your reaction, he was halfway expecting you to suggest inviting anyone else to the outing. He can’t help the grin that forms on his face.

“Well then.. let’s get out of here.” Husk says, guiding you out of Angel’s room. As the two of you are walking down the hallways, Angel calls out to the both of you.

“Have fun, lovebirds! Husk, don’t ruin that dress, it was expensive!” Angel shouts, making Husk flip him off, grumbling a bit.

“Are we eating messy food? I can change-..” You start, but Husk cuts you off.

“No- No, sweetheart, Angel is just a prick. Don’t worry.. let’s just focus on tonight.”

“Just us..”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin x reader #x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #husk #husk x reader

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gillthorpe · 1 year

Text

distracted, xavier thorpe

xavier thorpe x reader

summary: xavier couldn’t help but do what he wants to do

warnings: it’s literally just fluff, use of baby?

a/n: first fic, please be nice. Apologies for any grammer mistakes oops

☆

You could feel his eyes on you every now and then, alternating between his homework that he held up with his hand and you who’s sitting across from him. You didn’t bother to look up, putting all your focus on the essay you had to write as homework.

The library was quiet, only the sound of you and Xavier’s pen scribbling on paper and the occasional sniffing. You and Xavier would always go to the library to finish up the homework you two have for the day. It was your routine even before you and him started dating.

Unfortunately, Xavier isn’t the most responsible student. He would often goof around, trying to distract you and would do anything but his homework.

Today was no different.

“And… done!” You sighed, dropping your pen onto the table and leaning back against the chair. You let your eyes relax for a moment before peeking to see Xavier still focused on his homework. “Are you almost done?”

He bit his bottom lip, ignoring your question, too wrapped up in his work to answer you.

“Maybe we can swap our essays and spot if there’s any mistakes?” You asked, pursing your lips as you wait for Xaviers response.

He hummed absentmindedly, his eyes never leaving his notebook. You smiled, admiring your boyfriends pretty features when he concentrates. You were proud to see that he was actually putting in effort on his work.

Xavier finally stopped writing, placing his pencil down and picking up his notebook and admired it before giving himself a content nod.

You bounce eagerly, “Can I read yours?”

His eyes finally met yours, a hint of mischievousness behind those eyes. He smirked, clearing his throat as he sat up straight and swapped notebooks with you.

You were practically gleaming with excitement, excited to read his essay and actually feel like you have a real study partner to learn and point out mistakes with.

Until your eyes landed on his notebook.

Your smile has never dropped so fast. Your shoulders dropping, and you couldn’t contain the gasp that left your mouth.

A snicker came from the man you were about to murder.

“Xavier Thorpe I swear to fucking god—“

“—I love you, baby please—“

“—All this time I thought you were writing the essay—“

“—You’re so pretty I couldn’t help it—“

“—And you were drawing instead?!”

You stared at him incredulously, your nose flaring at him due to how pissed off you were. He was enjoying this, his cocky smile still plastered on his face as he laughed at your reaction.

“I’m sorry, baby. In my defence, I did try to write the essay. I just got distracted…” Xavier said, his hands holding yours as his thumbs rubbed your hands softly.

You blinked at him, sighing as you look down at his notebook to see at the top right hand corner he did wrote a few words before giving up.

“As much as I want to scream at you right now, this drawing is beautiful,” you sighed with a small smile, studying his artwork.

It was a drawing of you reading your textbook, you nose scrunched and your hair a mess. He managed to enhance your best features, capturing every little detail about you. He was truly talented.

“Thank you. Please don’t be mad, i’ll start on the essay right now,” he said softly, ensuring you aren’t upset with him.

You playfully rolled your eyes at him, sighing loudly. “You better do it or no cuddles for you tonight.”

You ignored his protests as you get up from your seat to find a book to keep you company. Safe to say Xavier was diligently doing his work with a determined face, and within thirty minutes he was done and started begging you for a hug and a kiss.

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x y/n #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe fluff #xavier thorpe fanfic #xavier thorpe x you #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe x witch!reader

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stellisketches · 6 months

Text

Random MCD Headcanons that have nothing to do with anything (Part 5???)

Sorry I haven't made any real posts in forever. My drawing phone broke and college has been a bitch so i haven't really gotten the chance to make anything (though I finally made some more progress on the next chapter of my rewrite). In any case, please accept this next installment of head canons I wrote like 10 months ago and completely forgot about in lieu of anything that requires actual talent. Love y'all:

Laurance lost an incisor tooth in a fistfight when he was 19

When he got turned into a shadowknight it grew back, now he purposefully goes out of his way to loose teeth just cause he knows he can grow back an unlimited supply

Hayden has a cat named Bog Butter. He’s the color of butter and he found him in the bog.

Vylad’s favorite vegetable is avocado

There are three major guard academies in Ru’aun: one in O’Khasis, one in Scaleswind, and one in Bright Port.

Bright Port’s is the largest and most well known

O’Khasis’ is the most prestigious

Scaleswind’s academy is the most difficult

The bare minimum age to join is 14, though most people join between 16-19

Every guard must have a minimum of 2 years training to earn the actual title of Guard, however to serve in O’Khasis you need a minimum of 4 and for Scaleswind a minimum of 5.

Part of that training includes apprenticeship, so they do get some in-field experience with their mentors (think unpaid intern)

Technically you can train for up to 8 years, however most people only train for 2-5.

Garroth was in academy for 3-4 (although to be fair he had been trained in sword fighting since he was like 9)

Laurance went for 5 years and Dante went for 6 ½

Dante lied about his age when he enlisted though

He was barely thirteen

Both went to the Bright Port Academy however they were in different divisions at different times since Dante is younger, so they really only saw each other in passing and never actually talked to one another

The only personal interaction they ever had was one time at the academy Laurance was trying to get back to his dorm after a night of copious drinking and partying and could barely walk out the front door of the bar. Dante (who was pretty tipsy himself) ended up half-carrying back to Laurance’s dorm before going back to his own. Neither of them remember this.

Katelyn’s two older brothers’ names are Kaj and Khareem

Khareem is the oldest, then Kaj, then Katelyn, then Kacey

Occasionally, when he is absolutely, positively, 100% sure he is alone, Zane will sing to himself sometimes

Dante once did a Zane impression in front of everyone and Garroth got so freaked out by how realistic it sounded he made Dante swear he’d never do that voice around him again.

The worst argument Kenmur and Emmalyn ever had during their marriage was whether their system was heliocentric or geocentric (Kenmur argued the former and Emmalyn argued the latter)

In most colleges across Ru’Aun, there is usually some statue of Enki that students will leave offerings to before their big exams

Offerings vary, but it’s usually something like food, money, trinkets, or paper. It varies on how important the exam/how desperate the students are

Kenmur went to one of these colleges for a few years

One time he fell asleep the night before his final exam and he woke up like an hour before his exam was supposed to take place and in a fit of panic he dumped his entire wallet in front of the statue. He passed with flying colors.

One time at the Narhakan college someone left a life-sized horse statue made out of gold. No one has any idea where it came from or who left it. It’s become kind of an urban legend among all the colleges

Zenix never learned how to read and by god he isn’t about to wimp out now

Garroth tried to teach him once and it… did not go well

Let’s just say Garroth still owes Emmalyn a book from that incident. And a new table.

Zianna came from the same region that Esmund was native to

Katelyn absolutely despises the feeling of sand in her shoes

Dmitri and Nekoette raided the Bright Port guard academy kitchen the first night they got sworn in

Dmitri also had to go to the infirmary after getting shot in the arm by one of Nekoette’s loose arrows

Laurance can play the piano and used to play it at some of the taverns in Meteli

Levin and Malachi both know a good bit of Elvish thanks to spending so much time in Yggdrasil

They switch to Elvish for the majority of their arguments

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limarieb · 7 months

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love is a double-edged sword

Pairing(s): Wanda Maximoff x Female!Reader (Past Wanda Maximoff x Vision)

Summary: Falling in love with your presumed-to-be-straight best friend could have been possibly the worst, most cliché thing you have ever done. But, it could also have been the best.

Warnings: internalized homophobia, coming out, occasional swearing used, brief mention of non-consensual kiss

Word Count: 4.5k

Author's Note: ahh my tumblr debut! this was the first mcu fic i ever wrote — i hope you guys enjoy.

Main Masterlist | ao3 | Wattpad

...

Since the age of six, if anyone asked you who your best friend was, you would proudly respond, “Wanda Maximoff”; she would do the same with your name.

But, you’re not exactly sure when your feelings for her become less friendly.

Maybe it was one of those times she had gone off on a tangent and explained the latest book she read, saying how much you’d “love it if you just listened to her and read the damn book.” You found her passion for stories endearing, perhaps even admirable. Maybe it was Field Day during the seventh grade; the outside air was plagued by blistering heat, but — with her long, brunette hair tied up in a high ponytail — she made sweating look good . Maybe it was the fact that, when you came out to your family last year, she had comforted you afterward; she held your face in her hands, wiped your tears with her two thumbs, and told you any girl would be lucky to have you.

You were sure at this moment that you did not want “any girl,” however, because the only girl you wanted was the one sitting in front of you.

You mistakenly let out a scoff. Of course, you would fall victim to the “lesbian falls for the straight best friend” trope. Wanda, on the other hand, thought the scoff was a response to her; thus, she pulled you into a tight hug, trying to convey how deeply she cares for you.

“I’m serious, Y/N,” she whispered into your ear. “One day, some girl is going to love you for you .”

You didn’t reply.

It was the second to last day of your junior year in high school. Thankfully, you had finished your exams, but the school required everyone to attend until the last day anyway.

It’s not like you could’ve done much for summer anyways; it has been raining all week, and it’s not like you got your license, nor do you even own a car. Additionally, you reasoned there could be far worse places to be in this moment, like home.

As you closed your locker, a mischievous brunette was lingering on the other side.

“Hello, Wanda. What can I do you for on this very fine day?” you said, sarcastically putting emphasis on the “very fine” part of the question.

She chuckled as she shook her head, “Nothing, at least not with that attitude.”

“Fine,” you gave in quickly, in pursuit of the real reason behind this conversation. “Seriously, though, what has Wanda Maximoff in such a chipper mood during school hours?”

Somehow, your question made her smile grow wider. “You’ll never guess what happened this morning,” she began. “Vision asked me out.”

Now, that caught your attention, “What?”

“Yeah, you know Tony, right? He’s that annoying rich kid in our class. Anyways, he’s throwing some sort of party for the end of the year and, since he and Vision are essentially best friends, Vision asked me to go to the party with him.”

You were only able to get one word out: “Wow.”

Noticing your lack of enthusiasm, Wanda turned her body completely towards you, “What? What’s wrong? Aren’t you excited for me?”

Truthfully, you were not excited for her. It’s not as if you did not know of Wanda’s infatuation with Vision; in fact, you could probably never forget the number of times she would talk to you about his “beautiful, blonde hair” and “pretty eyes.” Vision was not necessarily a bad kid, but you just hate that she just couldn’t like you like that.

It’s not like you could share this desire with your best friend either; ergo, you opted to put on a brave face and say, “Of course, I’m excited for you.” And, in case she didn’t believe you, you playfully elbowed her side, “If it goes well, I better be the maid of honor.”

You know that had convinced her, for she bit her lip and nodded excitedly.

“Oh,” Wanda started. “One more thing…”

As you looked at the mansion that stood before you, filled to the brim with a plethora of drunk teenagers, you uttered to yourself, “I don’t know why I let her talk me into coming to this. One day, I am going to have to stop agreeing with her on everything.”

You know you wouldn’t — if she wanted something, you’d make sure she’d get it. Nevertheless, that didn’t stop you from finding situations such as this annoying.

You walked through the front door. Immediately, your senses were overwhelmed by the strong smell of alcohol and the loud music blasting in the atmosphere. You attempted to push through to get through the crowd of people and find the person responsible for your presence. Before you could get much further, you felt another person grab and pull your wrist from behind, forcing you to turn around.

Wanda.

“Y/N, you came!” she tried to yell over the music. You could tell she wasn’t drunk, but she had definitely consumed something alcoholic. You failed to get a word in before she continued to pull you by the hand to venture further into the crowd of people, “Come on, let’s go dance!”

Moments later, you found yourself awkwardly “dancing” with your best friend. Although, she seemed to be having the time of her life. When she noticed your stiffness, she brought you closer to her, allowing you to hear her say, “Don’t worry about everyone else… Just dance with me!”

So, you did. You let go of any apprehensions, allowing yourself to move freely with the music and the girl in front of you.

Meanwhile, Vision stood across the room with a drink in hand. Not really thrilled by what he was seeing occurring between you and Wanda, he decided to end it. Drunkenly strolling over to you two, he pulled her from your grasp and into (in your unbiased opinion) one of the grossest, sloppiest kisses you had ever witnessed.

You weren’t exactly sure how to respond, partly due to the fact that there wasn’t exactly a reason to be envious of him anyways. So, you stood there awkwardly once more, pushing the jealousy down within you.

Wanda, on the other hand, was not thrilled by the action either. She knew he was drunk, tasting the alcohol the minute he forcefully placed his lips on hers. Quickly, she pulled away, “What the fuck, Vision? What was that?”

With a smirk aimed at you, he replied, “What do you mean?” She scowled, “You can’t just do that! Why would you ever think that was okay?”

“I should ask you the same thing.”

Now, she was the one in a state of confusion, yet hers was not fake, “What do you mean?”

“Y/N,” his retort made you look down at your old, worn-out sneakers. You weren’t entirely sure what direction this was all going, but you already knew that you did not like it.

“What about her, Vision?” “She’s obviously into you. I saw how you two were dancing together. My friends saw it, too. How is that supposed to make me feel, Wanda?”

Despite not being able to look up due to the embarrassment, you could feel the anger rolling off of Wanda’s body, “That is so not true, Vision, and you know it! Why are you acting so insecure about it, anyway? She’s my best friend, and I’m not even gay !”

You know she didn’t mean it like that , but something about the way she yelled the last part at the teenage boy came with a sort of venom — as if “gay” was synonymous with “bad.”

“You know what, Wanda? I’m done with this argument. You choose now : me or Y/N.”

That took Wanda aback, “What?”

“You heard me.”

“No, Vision,” she began. “That’s not fair, I refuse to choose between you and my best friend.”

“Either you choose me, and we can continue dating, or you choose her .”

A moment passed. In an attempt to not outwardly demonstrate the pain, you clamped your eyes shut. Honestly, you were about to walk away, accept defeat, and simply pretend this night never happened in the first place; you would have let her know later that it was alright, that if she wanted him, she could have him without someone like her standing in her way. Before she could move her feet to leave, however, she heard Wanda finally speak: “Fine, then. I choose her.”

Upon her decision being made, you finally looked up with wide eyes. Vision had the same wide eyes as you, but his face was paling from the initial rageful red that painted it moments earlier. Now, you shared two things with him: your love for Wanda and the visible shock that she chose you over him. It took every fiber of your being to not smile, as you knew now was not the time to celebrate such a victory.

Before another poisonous comment could be passed between the two, Tony stepped through the crowd that had surrounded you three. “Okay, man. That’s enough. Let’s go,” he ushered Vision away from the scene.

The crowd dissipated, leaving your best friend standing there alone. You took their exit as an opportunity to make sure Wanda was alright. You tried to reach out to her, to touch her shoulder. Maybe it was to pull her into one of your two’s infamously tight hugs; maybe it was to just let her know you were just there . You don’t know why you reached for her, but you didn’t really think before acting since it just felt like the most natural thing to do for you. Immediately, your hand was shrugged off by the brunette. Your body began to feel hot, and tears started to form in your eyes. You refused to cry, though, instead choosing to look down at your feet once more and begin your journey back home.

Within minutes you were back in the comfort of your own bed. With a harsh swallow, you continuously replayed the events of tonight over and over again. You laid there, reminiscing on just how utterly humiliated and alone you felt.

Even then in your state of depression and self-pity, you only hoped Wanda was doing okay.

Wanda left the party soon after you did. Similarly, she went home and found herself collapsed in her bed.

She didn’t bother changing out of her clothes, nor did she take off her makeup. Internally, she wishes that the bed would swallow her in order to leave the ramifications of tonight as a “potential” occurrence rather than an “actual.” She just doesn’t understand why: why he would do something like that; why the universe hates her; why she turned you away when she knew you did nothing wrong.

A brief, soft knock at her bedroom door removed her from her cyclical round of thoughts. “Come in,” she whispered, not trusting her voice to carry across the room like it usually does.

The door creaked open slowly, revealing her twin brother standing on the other side. “Hey, сестра,” he began, approaching her bed with caution and sitting beside where her legs laid. “How are you doing?” [sestra | sister]

She doesn’t acquire the information about how exactly he learned about the events of tonight, perhaps from some friends of his that went to the party. Instead, she chuckled humorlessly, “How do you think I feel, Pietro? I think I just lost my best friend and the guy I liked in one night.”

“‘The guy you liked’? You mean, Vision?” he wondered. “Honestly, I didn’t like him anyway. You didn’t lose much on that front. But, what happened with Y/N? You guys never fight.”

“I don’t even know, Pietro. One minute, we’re just dancing and having fun because you know Y/N — she never comes to parties. I wanted to make the most of the night. As we were dancing, though, Vision walked up to us, stole me from her, and just kissed me. Not only was it without my consent and out of spite, but it was just gross.”

The latter statement made the twin brother laugh. She continued, “I pulled away quickly because I was just so angry , you know? Like why did he think he could just do that? So, I asked him, which caused us to have an argument in the middle of the party. In the end, he gave me an ultimatum: him or Y/N. Of course, I chose her because… I don’t know, Y/N is Y/N.”

He sat there next to her, listening intently. He sighed, “Yeah, but what happened between you and Y/N ?”

She closed her eyes, “I don’t know .” The statement wasn’t a lie because she truly did not understand why she reacted the way she did towards you, her best friend. The tears started flowing again, soon turning into a set of sobs that ultimately racked her body. Her brother swiftly leaned down, taking his sister into his arms; she continued to cry into his chest for what felt like hours.

After some time had passed, the sobs slowed down and transformed into sniffles. Pietro looked down at his sister, “What’s wrong?”

She refused to look up, but she knew she had to get this off her chest. “Pietro,” she released in a single breath. He affirmed to her to continue, “I think… I think I’m gay.” There was another beat of silence before she slowly proceeded once more, “I think I like Y/N.”

There it was: the beast of the truth that was unknowingly weighing her down was finally released.

If it was even possible, Pietro pulled her closer in his embrace. Though he was aware that discussions of sexuality were becoming increasingly accepted and treated as an insignificant portion of someone’s life, he also knew that this was a big deal for her . He acknowledged such a fact, “I’m proud of you, Wanda, and I’m glad you told me, especially because I know it must have been difficult for you to realize and go through this on your own — even without Y/N… is this what caused the rift between you two? Did you tell her, and she rejected you?”

She scoffed, “Quite the opposite, actually; Vision accused her of liking me — which she probably doesn’t — but I just stood there, screaming at him that we were ‘just friends’ and that I ‘wasn’t even gay.’ You should’ve seen her when I shrugged her away after, Pietro. She looked so hurt . I hurt her.”

“You want to know how to fix this?” he asked, quickly followed by a confident nod from her. “You have to talk to her. Even if she didn’t like you, this is not something to lose such a close friendship over. For the record, though, she does like you. I’ve seen the way she looks at you, and that is definitely someone in love.”

Her head snapped up at the accusation, meeting the smirk that was plastered on his face. If he was right, she really messed up. She urgently needed to see you, to tell you once and for all how she truly feels about you; thus, she told her brother that she was going to find you and left him and his smirk behind.

Wanda didn’t have a clue about what she was going to say when she saw you; she didn’t have a script, nor did she have any guidelines to follow. She just knew she had to see you , only then would everything make sense for her.

You were on the verge of sleep when you could feel the vibrations coming from your phone. In a sleepy haze, you picked up the phone. The brightness made you unexpectedly squint your eyes, but the Caller ID was unmistakable: Wanda Maximoff.

You weren’t sure what exactly to do in this situation. On one hand, you knew you could not face another rejection, specifically from her. It would probably break you beyond repair. On the other hand, you could never say no to Wanda, even if it meant answering her calls at the most random times of the day.

So, you shakily tapped the green button and pulled the phone close to your ear.

“Hello? Y/N?” you could hear Wanda ask on the other side of the line.

“Hi,” you responded back. Wanda noted how soft your voice sounded. Normally, she would consider such softness an adorable trait of yours, but she knows the reason behind it. She knows it was her fault that you felt insecure at that moment.

“I’m– Um, I’m outside; can you come downstairs to open the door?” Wanda asked. Now, you were almost completely awake; the question made you raise your eyebrows in astonishment.

Despite your initial surprise, you muttered a quiet approval that you would meet her at the door and made your way downstairs.

To say you were nervous was an understatement. You don’t know what she’s going to say to you. You unlock the door and reach for the handle of the door, slowly turning it and pulling the wooden door towards you until you’re able to see Wanda on your front doorstep. Even with the low amount of yellow light coming from the bulb outside the door and the makeup visibly smeared on her face (probably from crying, you note), all you can think about is just how pretty she looks.

Her eyes look up to meet yours, causing your breath to hitch for a second. You weren’t certain about how to go about this, “Uh, do you want to come in? We’d have to go up to my room quietly because my parents are home.”

She accepted the invite, nodding her head hesitantly. The two of you walked upstairs, through the hall, back to where you had initially been laying in your bed and wallowing in your pity. You got back in your bed and crossed your legs as you sat against the headboard. Wanda, however, did not sit alongside you like she usually does; instead, she paced around your room. It was obvious that she was stuck in a state of stress and anxiety that you had never seen, even when she failed that one test back in sophomore year.

Your eyes trailed back and forth as you observed her pacing; suddenly, she came to a stop in front of the bed. Her body was not facing you, rather it faced the way that she had been walking moments prior. She started to play with the rings littered on her various fingers, which you had learned early on that it was a nervous habit of hers. You chose to remain quiet and to let her speak when she was ready due to the evidently difficult subject matter, but you couldn’t help your own anxiety rising.

Without looking at you, she finally broke the silence: “I need to tell you something, Y/N. I need to tell you a few things, actually. I’m not sure how you’ll react, but I also know that you didn’t deserve what happened to you tonight, to be put in that situation. You deserve more than that; honestly, you deserve everything good, and I’m so sorry that I put you through that. I completely understand if you don’t want to talk to me or be friends with me anymore, but I would not forgive myself if I didn’t at least try to salvage us.”

You sat silently in shock but continued to let her speak: “I thought I knew myself. In fact, I was so sure I did. Yeah, I may not have known the answer to some stupid math equation in school, but I knew the kind of clothes I preferred to wear, my favorite food to eat when I’m sad or stressed out, my go-to karaoke song. I thought I knew myself , inside and out. But, I don’t, or at least not as well as I thought I did. And, honestly? That’s freaking me the fuck out because, if I don’t know myself , how can I know anything else? I know that probably makes no fucking sense, but… yeah. I’m just really scared right now, but I talked to Pietro, which helped a bit. Um, he was right. Vision was right.”

Your face fell. You thought this was it, she was finally going to reject you and leave you.

In the deafening silence swirling around the two of you in your bedroom, she eventually decided to look at you. She saw the way your body sagged, how utterly defeated you looked; the brunette realized that you took her statement in the wrong way, “No! No! No! I didn’t mean it like that! Fuck ! I’m fucking this up. Okay, no, Vision is not right about anything other than the fact that I don’t like him. I don’t like boys… Truthfully, I’m not sure. I just feel so confused and stupid for not realizing such a big thing sooner. That’s what I meant when I said I thought I knew myself: I thought I knew that I liked boys, which I feel like is something that many people know from the beginning.”

“So, you’re… gay?” you quietly asked. You might be almost as confused as Wanda claimed to be.

You watched as the brunette nodded slowly, “I think so? As I said, I don’t know.”

“Okay,” you bit your lip, concentrating on forming something insightful to say next. “Thank you, Wanda, for telling me. I know how difficult and confusing it all is — believe me. Some people figure it out relatively early; others don’t realize it until they’re married with kids. There’s no timeline to any of it, okay? I know we’re kind of in this weird state right now because of tonight, but no matter what, I’d always support you.”

In a brief moment of confidence, Wanda turned her head to face you. You could see the water in her eyes that threatened to fall, her lip beginning to quiver. You rapidly stood up and walked over to her. With the two of you finally facing each other within a two-foot radius, she threw herself at you, wrapping her arms tightly around your neck. Your arms found their way to her waist, snaking around her and finding placement on her back. Both of you kept holding on tighter and tighter, afraid the other would try to leave. You could feel her chest rising and falling relatively fast as she cried into your neck and shoulder, repeating the phrase “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry.”

You removed one hand from her back; instead, you placed it on her head. With a trembling hand, you tread your fingers through her long hair. In an attempt to calm her down, you whisper things of assurance like “It’s okay,” “You’re okay,” or “It’s going to be alright.” You’re not confident they worked, but you could feel her breathing begin to slow down again. You moved the hand from her hair to her shoulder and pulled back in order to ensure she was okay enough to continue; shifting from the shoulder to her hand, you grasped it and squeezed.

You moved to sit on the edge of the bed and patted the spot next to you. Wanda was noticeably apprehensive, but she sat anyway.

“Are you okay?” you inquired, your eyebrow slightly raised in concern.

“Yeah, I am. At least, I will be eventually,” she trailed off. “There’s one more thing, though… probably the hardest for me to tell you out of all of them.”

Your eyebrows raised slightly as your interest peaked, but you knew to stay quiet again. She proceeded, “I told you that I don’t like men, implying that I do like women, which is true to an extent, I guess. Um, but it’s not ‘women' as in plural. All I know is that I like one, but I’m not sure how she feels about me. I want to tell her so badly so that we could try to be more or something, but I don’t know if she feels the same. I just don’t want to ruin us.”

You nodded your head for her to continue, “Can– Can I ask which lucky girl caught your eye?”

She moved her gaze upwards, resulting in your eyes locking once more. You could tell she was battling with herself internally about whether or not to answer with the truth, for she was harshly biting her lip. Yet, what you didn’t expect was her quiet, albeit one-word, response: “You.”

At this moment, with your eyes locked and her confession having been spoken, you swear your heart skipped a beat. Wanda Maximoff, your best friend and untold love of your life, just admitted she liked you as more than a friend.

Her eyes grew concerned and her face paled since you weren’t responding. “Please, say something… Y/N?” she pleaded.

If there was a time to deal all of your cards on the table, this was it: “I like you, too, Wanda. In fact, I love you. I love you so much, Wanda Maximoff. You don’t have to say it back or whatever; I know tonight has been a lot for you to deal with, but I’ve just wanted to say that to you for so long.”

A toothy grin grew on her face, reaching from ear to ear, “Really?”

“Yes, really. Um, can I kiss you? You don’t have to say ye—“

You were stopped effectively and prematurely when a pair of lips touched yours. Not just any lips, though; they were the softest , purest pair that was owned by your love , Wanda Maximoff. It’s slow at first, neither one of you sure of the other’s boundaries and not wanting to cross wherever they lie. But, as your lips part further allowing her to deepen the kiss, you just think, Wow.

You continue to kiss her for a minute or two before you’re out of breath and need to pull back for air. Before she can pull back completely, you give her a quick peck on her rosy lips that was probably filled with more intimacy and confidence than that initial kiss.

Pulling the brunette closer to you, you lean down and get the two of you comfortable in your bed. You’ve cuddled like this before during past nights where one of you spent the night with the other girl: you as the big spoon and her as the little one. You deeply appreciated nights like these, but you loved them even more so now that they hold a different context.

Your hand finds its spot on her hip, going beneath the shirt she wore. The two of you know it’s nothing sexual in nature, rather it’s a result of your need to just feel her. As you both began to nod off to sleep with your thumb continued to rub circles on her soft skin, you heard her voice call your name softly once more, “Y/N?”

“Yeah, Wands?”

“I love you, too.”

End.

#wanda maximoff x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff #marvel imagines #limarieb #limarieb wanda maximoff

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twistedbloodstain · 1 year

Text

simon riley x reader: i try to capture every minute the feeling in it. | domestic! simon riley with his infant kid

plot: the one where simon riley sees himself again.

warnings: simon as a dad :), fluff, domestic!simon

masterlist

if you’re pregnant and you two are in a committed relationship, i feel like he might either retire or go on leave for a long time. he feels like this a fresh start for him, a world where he doesn’t fight to live his life but where he actually lives his life.

he goes with you at the classes, for a more extensive level of information he reads some studies and books about infants and parenthood.

he’s quite wary of this very new chapter in his life, considering he never had a normal childhood, he’s scared he might fuck it all up with all that fear and trauma from his early life experiences.

the opposite happens, he’s (subtly) doting on your kid. all that protectiveness and paternal instincts kicking in.

your kid needs his nappy changed at 2 AM in the morning? get back to bed he’s on it. you’re too tired to bathe your kid? move aside he’ll do it. your kid suddenly throws a crying fit in the middle of nowhere? simon riley just spawned in.

he really tries. simon knows how much a traumatic childhood can shape children as they grow into adulthood and he doesn’t want that for his kid. he swears to himself he will never be like his father.

since he’s now a father, he definitely tries to cut the smoking. he’ll still go for an occasional smoke but it’s far away from your kid.

he finds it hard to let your kid leave his line of sight. maybe it’s the fear of losing or his instinct to keep everyone he cares about close to him.

in my opinion, i think he might lack at the emotional department. he’s not quite sure what to do there, since he’s not exactly the most expressive person. of course, he’s good at expressing through his actions but not through words. he might leave some of the task to you but he’ll try his best.

in short simon riley will be a good dad.

author’s note: someone requested this to me a year ago…im sorry. anyways i am actively accepting requests! (for real)

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tteokbin · 2 years

Text

☆ tartaglia -> sub!tartaglia x dom!gn!reader

content -> blowjobs, reader has a dick

really just thinking abt seemingly innocent reader and childe..

your both in the same group of friends and one of them decides to pay for drinks to celebrate college shit and whatnot. he’s been eyeing you since you’ve all sat at the table, running his foot up your leg while your friends chatter and laugh about god knows what.

when everyone’s drunk and on the dance floor he scoots over to where you sit alone and presses himself up against your side. his breath is hot against your ear and him leaning so close does nothing to shield his perky chest in that low cut v neck top he’s got on.

childe talks you up a bit, asks if you’ve got someone waiting at home and if you’ll be busy after. your cheeks are hot and your ears burn but you still stutter out answers to his questions. he’s grinning that amused smile, the one where he can’t stop cooing at your cuteness as he asks to go back to his place.

arriving there he’s already got you laid on his bed; him in your lap and his tongue down your throat. places your hands on his ass, enticing you to squeeze as he lets out a slutty moan into your mouth. kisses down your neck a few times and slides down to his knees while unbuckling your pants.

he practically drools upon seeing your awaiting bulge. dragging your dick outside it’s confines just to see the fat uncut dick awaiting his tongue. he’s suprised, its obvious with the way he looks up just to see you staring right back at him with nothing but pure lust. cocky grin plastered right on your face after you lick your lips.

you pressing his hung mouth closer to your cock takes him out of his shock. he blinks before pushing forward and taking all that he can into his hot mouth. hollowed cheeks move up and down, wet tongue sliding along the veins of your hard cock. your hand fists his ginger head, pushing him down to meet your pelvis.

he holds there for a few seconds, fully immersed in taking your full length into the back of his throat. wanting so desperately to gag on the fat fucking dick of his dreams until he has to come back up for air. gurgling sounds get louder and more frequent as he proceeds to fuck you into his throat himself, nose occasionally burying into the tuft of hair at the base. his restricted moans vibrate up your spine, the pleasure becomes too much to handle.

looking down to watch him choke on your cock elicited a throaty groan out of you, slick plump lips quite literally sucking the soul out of you. hearing his whines only turns you on even more, the tight coil in your stomach seconds away from snapping. as if he read your mind childe speeds up his bobbing further, sucking harder and fondling your heavy balls.

his watery eyes trying to hold contact while struggling to stop themselves from rolling back inevitably pushed you over the edge.you hold his head snug against your hips, burying your cock down his throat as you cum a fat load into his mouth. childe swears he could cum untouched just from the sound of your growls but he holds back for what’s to come.

he swallows and licks his lips, pulling his head up and heads straight for your lips. he moans hotly into your mouth, quickly throwing his pants off and making home in your lap already pumping your spent dick back to fullness. you’ve got one hand on his ass and the other helping his hips along your thigh.

“want to sit on this fat dick don’t you baby?” childe nods dumbly in agreement, hanging onto your every word. you share one last kiss before lifting him to line your tip with his awaiting hole.

“don’t worry m’ gonna fuck you real good.”

photo creds: link

a/n: i really suggest you read this small manga book it’s so cute!! this fic was inspired by their karaoke scene. the art style is gorgeous and it’s just a cute relationship they have and omgee i literally fell in love with the characters anyway i’m rambling

#dom reader #sub!genshin #sub! genshin impact #sub genshin impact #dom!reader #sub!childe #sub!tartaglia #sub childe #sub childe smut #sub tartaglia #sub tartaglia smut #tartaglia smut #childe smut

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mrsjellymunson · 7 months

Text

Hello, Stranger

Pairing: Eddie Munson x gn!reader, Eddie Munson x you, Eddie Munson x reader

For @lesservillain’s excellent Strange and Spooky Stories Halloween writing event for the prompt: ‘Stranger’

Summary: A stranger comes in to buy weird stuff at odd times, and as the cashier at the local hardware store you’re not quite sure what to make of it…

CW: 18+ (MDNI), fluff, maybe SFW though caution for mature and dark themes and allusions to crime and violence. Flirting, li’l bit of awkwardness, some swearing. Both Eddie and reader are in their 20s. Reader’s gender and appearance are not described, they can be whatever you want. No use of y/n. Time period is not mentioned, and any inaccuracies/inconsistencies about history, equipment, American schooling (I’m not from around these parts) or science are deliberate and artistic oh yes they are. No smut, I thought I’d better assess whether I could string a semi-coherent story together before attempting to add that 😆

WC: ~6.2k

A/N: I love gore, revenge movies, murder shows, true crime, science/biology/forensics and DIY (sort of), so this prompt seemed like a perfect fit. There are tiny Easter eggs from The Equalizer, Breaking Bad, 80s crime TV, The Blacklist and John Wick in here - let me know if you spot any! This is the first ‘proper’ fic I’ve posted so I’d love to know what you think. Comments, reblogs and feedback are hugely appreciated and very welcome!

(Also this is my first attempt at dividers too, I hope they worked, I literally have no idea what I’m doing!)

Yep, you were ‘that’ weird kid. Your friends in Middle School had called you a freak because you brought squirrel tails and chicken feet to show’n’tell.

“But look! If you pull this tendon it makes the claw close! Isn’t that cool?!”

No, apparently that was not cool. Especially when demonstrated against your teacher’s finger...

You’d visit a friend whose father was a doctor, begging to read his medical and pathology text books, and preferring to look at pictures of dissected and diseased organs and spontaneous human combustion over braiding your friend’s hair or talking about boys.

And, apparently, scoring a class-topping 9.5/10 for your rat dissection also wasn’t the social merit badge you thought it might be, even amongst your science-abreast academic peers.

So what if you had a strong constitution. And a love of anatomy and pathology. And then compounded it with a love of true crime, particularly serial killers and forensic methods. Surely there were worse things to be interested in?

By the time you’d finished High School you’d learned to mask your enthusiasm, covering your (apparently, socially unacceptable) fascination for all things ‘gross’ and ‘murderous’ (your friends’ words) by choosing science majors like human anatomy and pathology, criminal behaviour and forensics.

People just thought you were clever, nerdy, a scientist. You never let on that you were itching to actually experience some of these things for yourself, in real time, with your own hands…

You work the evening shift at the sprawling out-of-town homewares store on the road running out of Indianapolis towards a tiny town you’ve never been to (Hawksville? Hawking?). You work a few evenings a week plus alternate Sundays, currently in the gardening, kitchen and hardware department. It wouldn’t be your chosen section of the store (in the short time you’ve been there you’ve had to amass a lot of knowledge about tools. Also, how to politely deflect the regulars’ offers to share details of their new projects, lest you get drawn in to a half-hour discussion about u-bends or rawl plugs), but the hours suit you and fit around your college classes, and the employee discount comes in handy when things in your shitty apartment break down or your roommate carelessly breaks something, again.

The final few hours of your shifts were usually pretty quiet, barring the occasional domestic plumbing emergency, or a bored Hawkins housewife coming in looking for batteries.

You don’t mind spending your evenings amongst the tools and machinery, it gives you a chance to flick through the latest copy of forensic magazine or True Crime, or work on your college assignments.

One thing that does make the slow evenings more entertaining is the unusual clientele. A nerdy-looking guy with a moustache needing releasable cable ties, cooking oil and a large plastic sheet at 9.30pm must have an interesting backstory, right?

You find yourself concocting fantastical vignettes about the oddballs that pass through, giving them the most amusing or disturbing story you can think of as they glide by in the night.

The guy with the cable ties? Too easy. Clearly he’s got a ‘special friend’ and an interesting evening planned. TBH, that’s probably not even fictional. You call him Salacious Scott.

The friendly, rotund lady who regularly comes in for for buckets and sawdust? You know it’s Mrs Henderson, who is trying to go self-sufficient and has recently installed a composting toilet, but you prefer to imagine she’s actually a madam with a ‘specialist interest’ playroom, who you brand Madame Urolagnia.

The paranoid guy with a beard and thick glasses who won’t tell you his name, buys a lot of vodka from the liquor store nearby and comes in for plastic pipe, cladding and those slot-together foam mats for kids? He tells you he’s into martial arts and these make safe weapon facsimiles for training, but you reckon he’s actually some kind of government agent. Your imaginary name for him is Mysterious Murray.

One oddball in particular has caught your attention, and not just because he’s easily the handsomest customer you’ve had in a while.

Wait, no, you didn’t just admit that; you just find him interesting, that’s all.

It was his speed and demeanour that had struck you first, rushing in, hand atop the bandana on his head, gangly legs in ripped jeans looking like they were trying to run in two different directions at once, large, dark eyes wide as he’d frantically looked around the store.

“Uh, rope, I need rope, where’d you keep the rope?”

You’d blurted some instructions and he’d headed off, not looking in your direction.

His leather jacket and swinging chains certainly commanded attention amongst the flannel and blue denim that was usually in your line of sight, and you’d found your eyes following him, catching sight of him moving between the aisles from your position behind the counter.

He’d moved towards you with a sturdy knife, a shovel and 3 rolls of duct tape that he’d collected on his way to the checkout, arms full (he didn’t pick up a basket), when you’d ventured,

“I’d recommend the next brand up, if you want something stronger with better sticking power? It costs a little more, but it’s better quality, so overall you’ll use less”, (silently thanking Mr Wheeler’s recent diatribe on the merits and pitfalls of various brands of adhesive tape, remembering the detail because he’d gone so far as to demonstrate by sticking small pieces of it to your skin. It was a weird interaction for sure, but also oddly informative).

He’d lifted his head to look at you and your eyes had connected for the first time. Your eyes widened, and you think you spotted a slight twitch of a smile at one side of his mouth.

Oh, he’s actually really cute.

“Uh, okay, if you think that’s best”.

He dropped his eyes from yours and, after unceremoniously dumping everything else onto your counter, he’d exchanged the rolls and returned.

You’d both paused, you don’t know for how long, and you’d wondered how someone buying rope could be so captivating. But the spell was broken as you’d both spoke simultaneously:

“Did you find everything you need?”

“I’m kinda in a rush, so…”

You’d both chuckled nervously, and you’d set about ringing up his purchases, noticing that a small smile definitely now graced those previously harried features.

He’d paid with a handful of old, crumpled bills pulled from his jacket, politely declining your offer of a bag, and then he was gone as quick as he came, hurrying out into the night with the swish of the automatic doors and a breeze of parking lot-scented night air.

You didn’t know why anyone would need rope and a shovel at that time on a weeknight, but with this particular guy, who you dubbed The Stranger, you found yourself thinking that you wouldn’t mind finding out.

You’d unintentionally spent the rest of that evening coming up with fantasies about that particular customer, although, unusually for you, quite a few of them hadn’t actually involved what was on his receipt…

When The Stranger next comes in he’s after heavyweight garbage bags, more tape and a saw, but seems in slightly less of a rush.

He pauses at your counter for a few moments, making polite conversation, asking how long you’d been working here, whether you were working late tonight.

Is he trying to… flirt? Surely not…

“Thanks for the tape recommendation by the way, it was a real lifesaver. That stuff’s really good, I definitely have a new favourite!”, gracing you with a broad grin (oh fuck, that was a sight) before he was on his way again.

Another time he bought shears, tarp and a large quantity of painting coveralls.

The next trip involved wire cutters, buckets and a wet’n’dry vacuum.

You begin to enjoy The Stranger coming in buying random shit at odd hours. You can’t quite make him out. He buys a lot of gardening and decorating-type equipment (plus he’s almost single-handedly keeping the cleaning product aisle in business), but he dresses like neither - always in tight, ripped jeans, shredded band tees and his signature leather jacket. You’ve never seen him covered in leaves or dirt, and his clothes have zero paint on them. Those coveralls must do a really good job…

You build up a rapport of sorts with him. There’s always a polite, verging on friendly greeting between you, and you let him know when there’s special offers on tarp and garbage bags, and what days there are deliveries of latex gloves and those painting coveralls he seems to like so much. (Sometimes you’ll even stash a few of the latter for him under the counter if there’s a holiday weekend coming up, knowing Hawkins’ husbands will be out in force and not wanting him to miss out.)

But the ‘fantasy vignette’ and forensically-inclined parts of your brain begin to overlap, and start to tickle your imagination. It’s almost as if each selection of items he buys could be used to either dispatch someone, or dispose of a body. But that’s crazy, right? He seems way too nice to be a serial killer. And mob activity in this part of Indiana? Nah. That wouldn’t happen around here.

Would it?

It’s a quiet Friday night when you next see The Stranger. He’s picked up bolt cutters, pliers, some metal trays, a sledgehammer, a mop, and, most bizarrely of all because you’ve noticed he’s not usually one for personal safety equipment, ear defenders.

Again, he’s basket-less, barely able to contain the items piled up in his arms. They topple as he arrives at your counter, and some end up partially covering your open magazine.

“Shit, I’m really sorry about that.”

“Oh, no problem, honestly. I probably shouldn’t be reading on the clock anyway”, you say, slightly bashful, as you move the crumpled magazine out from underneath his items, smoothing it down. The Stranger’s eyes are locked on your hands, and as they move across the page they reveal a headline about a recently apprehended serial murderer and some photographs of a variety of grisly-looking, bloody weapons.

“That looks… interesting, watcha reading there?”, he remarks, leaning in.

“Oh, this? It’s about a new guy they’ve just caught over in Europe. He’s fascinating, he used such a variety of tools and methods that at first the police didn’t even think to link the crimes. Ingenious, really, when you think about it. So creative!”

You look up, and The Stranger is regarding you with an unreadable expression. Does he think you’re weird, babbling on about this murderer like you admire him? Or is he actually impressed with your enthusiasm?

“Sorry, I’m a true crime buff, it’s a bit of a pet topic of mine. And I’m studying forensics at college, so it’s kind of like schoolwork too.” You chuckle nervously, arms moving in front of your body and shoulders subtly curling in on yourself in embarrassment.

The Stranger seems to sense your discomfort, and shakes his head, making his curls bounce, smiling and chuckling along with you.

“No, yeah, uh, me too with the crime thing, actually. Well, not so much the reading, I’m more of a hear-it-through-the grapevine, hands on kinda guy.”

‘Hands on’? WTF does that mean?

“Oh, cool, coolcoolcool”. Smooth…

As you scan his items your fantasy vignette tickles your brain again.

No, don’t be silly…

You bag everything up this time, insisting it’ll be easier to carry, handing them to him and taking his crumpled bills.

Your curiosity is more than piqued and you can’t hold it in any longer. Feeling bold, you ask, “So, what’s all this for?”

“Huh?”

“The- the stuff. What’re you doin’ with it?”

The Stranger looks at you through his lashes, not speaking.

Shit, you’ve overstepped, he’s gonna leave, find a different store and you’ll never see him again.

“Uh, well, some people I know out near the big city are, er, planning a, uh, party, with a few of their, um, associates, and I think it’s gonna get pretty loud, hence the earphones. I, uh, don’t usually get involved in stuff until later in the evening, y’know, after all the main fun’s over.”

You look a little quizzical.

He thinks for a moment.

“I tidy up, but I sorta make it a bit more fun for everyone. Bring a bit of pizazz to a usually mundane part of the evening. Kinda thing.”

You process for a few moments. The ‘Mob Cleaner’ vignette you’d fantasised about screams loud and long into your cerebrum.

Nerves give way to curiosity, and you brashly ask, “So, what exactly is it that you do?”

“I’m kind of a cleaner, I guess? If someone has a problem that they’ve had dealt with and they wanna make the cleanup more, um, interesting, I’m the guy they call.”

Probing further, you clarify, “So you don’t make the, uh, mess, you just clean it up. Creatively?”

“Yeah, exactly.”

He explains he’s still quite new to the job, and kinda fell into it. His boss and his mentor are both encouraging, saying his USP is truly original (Unique Selling Point, he explains when you look confused), and that he definitely ‘has potential’. He’s learning a lot as he goes, but his enthusiasm seems to be appreciated and he wants to do well.

“All you really need is a strong stomach, imagination and a flair for the dramatic!”

He illustrates his last point by making jazz hands by the sides of his head, offering you a generous smile. Yeah, you can see how that particular part of the job comes easy to him.

“Oh, well, it sounds like fun. I hope you have a very successful evening!”

“Okay, well, thanks again! I’ll see you.”

You watch him leave, noticing in particular how well his jeans fit tonight.

What’s that saying again - I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave…?

You shake your head to rid yourself of the lewd - and crazy, yeah, totally crazy - thoughts you’re having about The Stranger and encourage yourself back into work mode.

As you busy yourself and tidy your counter you notice something small and white on the floor in front, about the size of a credit card. It must’ve fallen out of his jacket as he fumbled for cash.

Cash. Always cash. Never credit card, never cheque, never — anything traceable…

You round the counter and pick it up, thinking you’d save it and return it to him the next time he comes in. It’s a business card. The text is unfussy and clear, but glossy, bold and slightly gothic. It’s a company name above some text and a pager number, but it may well be the most intriguing piece of writing that you’ve ever come across:

E.M. Creative Disposal Services, Apprentice to Mr Kaplan & Associates, For dinner reservations call: (555)-666-6969

It’s another quiet night, but there’s already a couple of people at the counter when The Stranger arrives. Mr Sinclair needs a pipe wrench and a plunger (you don’t envy him his evening), and Mrs Wheeler has come in to buy double-As for the second time this month (although this time she also added gardening gloves and secateurs to pad out her basket. Not that you’d judge either way).

You spot The Stranger’s curls before anything else, bobbing in the fluorescent lights as he comes through the entrance doors. He spots the queue and immediately joins it, glancing towards the counter and visibly brightening when he sees you behind it. He’s carrying the sledgehammer he bought last time. As you start to ring up Mrs Wheeler’s batteries you see him examining the head of the hammer. Frowning slightly, he moistens his thumb with his tongue and rubs at one corner, then polishes the same spot on the front of his jeans.

He reaches the counter, receipt retrieved from a bundle pulled from inside his jacket.

You greet each other with a quiet ‘hey’. He continues, “I, uh, wanted to return this. Can I do that?”

“Yeah, sure, lemme ring it through the till. Can I ask why? Company policy,” you shrug, almost apologetically.

“Sure, uh, well you know that phase ‘using a sledgehammer to crack a nut‘? Turns out a sledgehammer does indeed obliterate the, uh, nuts… Let’s just say it wasn’t really suitable for the project I had in mind. I think I need something…”

Lighter? Easier to aim?

“With a little more finesse?” You venture, eyebrows raised, hoping you haven’t completely misread things.

“Yeah, finesse! I like that”. He beams widely at you tilting his head slightly, revealing the most gorgeous dimples you’ve ever seen, and it’s all you can do to hold on to the edge of the counter while your knees gently fail beneath you.

“Umm, you want some help choosing?”

He readily agrees and you direct him to the hammer section, both of you discussing the merits and disadvantages of various models as you choose ones from the display and encourage him to feel their weight and balance. He seems impressed, clearly not expecting you to be so well-versed in the finer aspects of hardware.

“Y’know, you really know your tools!”

You squeak out a bashful, “Thanks.”

You slip into self-deprecating mode and brush off his compliment, saying, “It comes with the territory I guess. I’ve picked up a lot working here. Plus I just sometimes browse the shelves, thinking of nefarious uses for random household objects.” Hurriedly adding, “For school, of course!”

You cringe a bit, thinking this must make you look like some kind of weirdo, but The Stranger takes it easily in his stride, commenting, “You know, you’d be surprised to learn just how much of a marketable skill that can be.”

You chat some more and he eventually chooses a smaller, less unwieldy hammer, and after he pays you part ways again.

You still desperately want to ask him exactly what he used that other hammer for, what ‘Creative Disposal Services’ actually means, and what the hell have dinner reservations got to do with any of this?

The next night you see The Stranger he saunters in at about 8:30. He has a different energy about him this evening, seeming both more relaxed but also somewhat on edge. He’s not in his usual ratty band tee tonight, you notice, and no leather jacket either. Instead he’s wearing a what looks to be a clean, maybe even pressed, electric blue raglan shirt with black half length sleeves. You spot a crimson guitar pick necklace that you’ve not seen before dangling from a twinkling silver ball chain, resting against his sternum and resplendent against the blue.

Observing his forearms for the first time you notice how attractive - and (oh!) tattooed - they are. Toned and veined, their shape and his mix of tattoos are shown off to perfection by that sleeve length, and a leather and chain bracelet that adorns one powerful-looking wrist. The glint of his chunky silver rings accentuates his large hands that peek out of his jeans pockets as he wanders over to you. He’s still in tight black jeans, but they seem a little… neater than usual. And he’s not in a rush. It’s almost like he’s not working, maybe even making an effort.

You feel a frisson of excitement - could it be that he’s come in just to see you?

Exhibit A, m’lud: Scrubbing up well.

He heads straight for your counter, and you greet each other with your characteristic friendliness.

He spies the hefty text books you’ve spread before you, and leans onto the counter to get a closer look.

“Watcha workin’ on tonight, Doctor Quincy?”

You swallow at the cute nickname, voice cracking slightly as you start to tell him about the assignment you’ve got. It’s about evidential tool marks, and how pathologists can identify what’s been used as a weapon or tool of dismemberment.

The Stranger tries to play down his interest, but his demeanour betrays him as he presses for more details, even asking if he could maybe read the finished piece.

That’s weird, right? People don’t read other people’s science essays for fun. Do they?

But you agree, promising to bring him a copy when it’s done.

The conversation lulls, and The Stranger twists the pad of one of his thumbs against the counter, seemingly a little nervous, though you can’t imagine what about.

To break the silence you slip into work mode, but for some reason drop your voice a couple of octaves and murmur,

“So anyway, what is it that can I help you with, sir?”

Wait, is he blushing?

“Um, oh, uh, I actually don’t have a shopping list today, I was, uh, just gonna browse, I guess.”

He backs away from your counter, giving it a few rhythmic slaps with his fingertips before turning away from you and ambling off into the store. He returns a few moments later with a small hatchet and mid-range fold-out knife, plus two rolls of his now-favourite tape.

“You can never have too many of these, amirite?”

He gives you that dimpled smile again, and you feel your stomach do a full (though anatomically impossible) 360° flip.

Observing his lack of focus and comparatively small selection of items, you wonder if he really needs those things, or whether he’s just picking them up as an excuse to come in to the store. Your chest heats up a little at the thought.

Exhibit B: Small, possibly unnecessary purchase. The evidence is mounting up.

Seeing the hatchet, your eyes light up with enthusiasm as you remember something.

“Hey, we just got some new stock in that I think you might like, y’know, if I’m not overstepping or anything.” You finish with a nervous chuckle.

You smile at him nervously through your lashes, skin heating even more in case this is suddenly all a bit too familiar.

He grins, responding, “Sure, go ahead!”

Your smile broadens and relaxes as you turn away from him and walk to the back shelves, crouching down and retrieving something in your arms.

Standing quickly and turning, you notice his eyes widen and immediately flick up to yours, a slightly alarmed expression on his face.

Exhibit C: Was he checking you out when he thought you wouldn’t notice? (Also, is it getting hot in here?)

With a loud thunk you lay two (frankly, terrifying-looking) multi-tools out on the counter in front of him. One looks like an oversized, overspec-ed Swiss Army knife, and the other could easily pass as a prop from an exorcism-themed horror movie. You over-excitedly explain the features of each, saying, “This one has a hammer and an axe, plus screwdrivers, pliers, a saw, wire cutters, a magnesium rod”, you look up at him quickly and ask, “do you ever need to start fires? Plus, it has…”, you wave your hand dramatically over your favourite part of the item, like you were showing it off on a shopping channel, and stretch out the syllables of the final two words for emphasis, “…a bottle opener…”. You raise your eyebrows and grin widely, like this must surely be the deal breaker.

The Stranger laughs, throwing his head back with deep-throated barks from the centre of his chest, and then he chuckles a little, bringing a strand of hair over his cheek and a curled finger to his lips. You’re slightly distracted by that glimpse of his extended neck (god, you want to gnaw at it), and that laugh? You wish you could’ve recorded it somehow.

You quickly compose yourself and continue, switching to the ’horror prop’ product, “And this one has fewer features, but I like it for its simplicity, robustness and practical charm. It’s an axe, hammer, nail puller and pry bar. And it even has a rubber coated handle, so you can still use it safely even if your hands are wet. For, y’know, whatever reason…” you finish, slightly abashed.

“Aw, Pumpkin, this is the kindest thing anyone’s done for me in a while, thank you.”

Pumpkin. PumpkinPumpkinPumpkin. Exhibit D: A term of endearment!

He takes some time to examine both articles, testing out their various features, hefting them in his (large, strong) hands (stop it!).

“I love them. Y’know what, I can’t decide. I’ll take both. What’s the damage?”

You visibly brighten, a squeak of delight that you hope he didn’t hear inadvertently leaving you as you puff up with both his term of endearment and your ever-growing customer service confidence.

You check whether he’d still like the other items he’d brought to the counter, and apart from the duct tape (“You really can’t have too much of this stuff!”), he allows you to reshelve the rest.

He watches, enthralled, as you wrap his new tools in the store-issue brown paper reverently and carefully, as though you were wrapping an expensive gift in a fancy department store, the pair of you sharing bashful looks and half smiles as you work.

As he hands over the now-unsurprising crumpled bills and takes his change his hand drifts closer to yours, glancing his fingers over your palm and lingering for just a moment. There’s a little hitch in your inhale, and you think you see his ears redden a little.

He gathers up his purchases in his arms carefully and gently, and he backs away from your counter slowly.

“I guess I’ll head out then. Uh, I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, I guess you will, uhh-”

“Eddie. My name’s Eddie.”

“Okay, I guess so, Eddie.” You say his name slowly, like you’re testing out the syllables in your mouth.

You continue speaking, offering your name in reciprocation.

“Yeah, yeah I know your name, it’s kinda on your little badge there.” A tiny nod indicates the plastic rectangle pinned on your apron strap near your left shoulder.

Your cheeks heat again. “Right, of course. Ha!” You inwardly cringe. Well, that could’ve gone better.

He’s still backing away, getting dangerously close to an intricately balanced display of colourful children’s watering cans. You’re about to say something, but he turns just in time, ambling towards the illuminated exit with a mumbled, “Okay, bye then. Thanks again for these…” lifting the packages in his arms, and turning to look over his shoulder a couple more times before he finally reaches the door and disappears into the parking lot.

“Hey, d’you know anything about wood chippers?”

It’s been a week since you’ve seen The Stranger Eddie, and you turn abruptly to find him walking towards your counter.

His question throws you out of your stocktaking zone (you’d been focussing on ordering enough plastic pumpkin-shaped buckets for all of Hawkins’ kids this Halloween), but you quickly slip into customer service mode and ask for more details.

Eddie explains, using mostly his arms, that he needs one that, “throws everything everywhere”. You finally work out that he means the type where you feed stuff into a hopper on one side and the shredded debris is forced out of a raised chute on the other (as opposed to the more gravity-based ones where stuff is fed into the top and simply falls out the bottom).

He’s passing it off as being involved in some avant garde student art project, a performance piece involving feeding a load of wood and, uh, paint, yeah, paint into a wood chipper and having it spray out the other side. He blusters that the students are trying to make a point about climate change, or maybe it’s deforestation, he can’t seem to decide.

He explains that the piece is to be performed indoors, that there’ll be quite a few people present, and that he also needs a large quantity of tarp and coveralls because it was likely to make a huge mess.

This is the clincher. You’re absolutely convinced there is no art project, and what’s go through that chipper is more likely to be a human body. Or, given the amount of effort being gone to, and Eddie’s flair for theatrics, probably more than one.

“What size branches?”

He looks at you, confused. “Huh?”

“The, uh, limbs. What size will you be shredding? Some of the smaller models won’t cope with thick trunks.”

He swallows. His eyes meet yours, and he licks his lips. You can’t help but stare at those full, pink… Look away! Just look away!!

He subtly smirks, slowly moves his hands across the counter, and, gently taking hold of one of your hands in his, loops his other finger and thumb around your wrist.

“Um, definitely thicker than this…” - he extends your arm towards him, and moves his other hand slowly up your skin until he gets to your upper arm - “…and maybe a little thicker than this, too.”

You hope he can’t feel the burning sensation that’s erupted up your arm. You know he can’t possibly hear your racing heartbeat or detect the adrenaline that’s coursing through your veins, but you’re acutely aware of both just the same. You briefly ponder whether you’ll need to get a fire extinguisher from aisle 7.

“Umm, how about I show you what we’ve got?”

Composing yourself, barely, you take him to the large garden implements section, explaining that for larger trunks and limbs he may need something towable.

Under the guise of working out whether various models would be suitable, you take the opportunity to dig a little and find out what kind of vehicle he drives. It’s a van, so roomy, practical for carrying a lot of equipment that needs to be kept out of sight. Well, this all tracks.

Also, your brain helpfully suggests, it could potentially be romantic, a private little hideaway where you and he could… No! Stay on topic, you’re at work for god’s sake!

As you debate the various choices you find you’re occasionally leaning into each other, shoulders and elbows lightly bumping, you stealing glances at his chiselled jawline when you think he isn’t looking.

Eddie eventually decides on a mid-size towable model, and as you arrange for it to be delivered to the collection bay he bids you goodnight and disappears out to his van.

‘Art project’, huh? I don’t think so…

You don’t see Eddie for a couple of weeks after that, and you begin to wonder whether he doesn’t like you. Maybe you went too far, did you bore him? Did you frighten him off? Did he feel pressured into buying those gadgets or the expensive wood chipper?

Maybe he’s finally realised you’re a weirdo, like everyone at school eventually did?

Trying to get out of your funk you steel yourself and ask your department manager, Keith, whether he’d seen an odd, metal-looking guy in the store at all.

“Nah, not recently, but someone like that did come in a few weeks back, asking about when you’d be working. Something about your product knowledge helping him with a job, or whatever. I told him your schedule, I hope that’s ok.”

So you haven’t missed him, and maybe he’s not avoiding you. Good, that’s good. Exhibit E: He’s been asking about you?? Oh fu-

You’re startled out of your reverie by the sound of someone slapping two plastic packets down onto the counter.

“Oh, hi Mrs Wheeler, let me ring those up for you…”

On his next visit it’s clear Eddie is restocking his cleaning supplies, and he’s even deigned to use a small trolley this time to transport the heavy and bulky items.

As well as multi-surface cleaner, mops, cloths and some heavy duty gloves, you notice his trolley also contains numerous bottles of chlorine bleach.

“Big clean-up job tonight, huh?”

“What? Oh, yeah, I guess so. I need to leave the place without any trace of the, uh, performance this time.”

“Depends what you need to clean up, I guess. Y’know, chlorine bleach doesn’t necessarily get rid of everything.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, it’s fascinating, common misconception by the way. Chlorine bleach gets rid of visible stains, so that’s great if your main concern is aesthetics. But you can still detect haemoglobin, if you have access to the right tools and solutions.”

Eddie looks bath engaged and confused.

“A-heema-whatnow?”

You snicker.

“Haemo-, y’know what, never mind. Blood, basically. So actually, oxygen bleach is your best bet if your biggest concern removing all traces of, let’s say, blood and DNA. Whilst it doesn’t necessarily remove all the marks, it does degrade everything biological to the point where it’s undetectable. At least, with the tests we currently have.”

Eddie leans his elbows on the counter, giving you his full attention, resting his cheeks on his knuckles and pushing his dimpled grin up even further. Emboldened, you talk at length about haemoglobin, DNA degradation, specialist chemical solutions and alternative light sources.

He stays there, rapt, until you come to a natural stop. Just before he straightens up he quietly mumbles, still smiling, “Fucking incredible”.

With a deep breath he returns to the aisles to procure both types of bleach, pays and heads out into the night with a cheery, “Wish me luck!”

The cleanup must’ve gone well, because Eddie’s back a few days later and is making conversation.

“Hey, um, I remember reading once about some guy in England, years ago, who, like, melted people. You ever heard of that?”

You contemplate for a moment.

“Oh, d’you mean the Acid Bath Murderer, John Haigh?”

“Acid bath? Yeah, that sounds familiar.”

“Y’know, that’s actually one of my favourite case studies! It was one of the stories that first got me interested in true crime. 1940s England, dude thought he could get away with it if there was no body. Nope, sorry! When I first heard about it I thought it was really inventive, though he actually took the idea from a French guy who’d already done similar. Makes you wonder how many undiscovered dissolved bodies there might’ve been before and since, huh?”

You wax lyrical for a little while on the relative merits and disadvantages of the dissolving of human bodies in acid, even relating an anecdote about how your lab partner once chose the wrong combination of acid and beaker type, finishing with, “Hoo-boy, that was a mess!”

You become a little awkward, aware of how long you’ve been talking and the possibly-disturbingly-creepy level of detail you’ve gone into, though Eddie doesn’t seem to mind and presents somewhat like he’s paying attention in a chem class. Regardless, you decide to change the subject.

“I meant to ask last time, how did that wood chipping project go?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, really good, thanks. Y’know that advice you gave me about the chipper came in real handy. It was quite the show!” He looks gleefully at you, flashing that brilliant smile. A few small fireworks quietly explode in your innards.

“I’m so glad! Did the client like it?”

“Oh yeah, baby, they were thrilled!”

Baby. That’s new. You like it, and you add it to your growing mental filing system labelled ‘Evidence that Eddie might like me’. You can’t even remember what letter you’re up to now, you’re just enjoying stuffing it fuller every time he graces you with another morsel.

“They even gave me a nice bonus, for my ‘theatricality’.” He begins to lift his arms, but stops himself, resisting doing the jazz hands things again, reasoning there’s only so many times he can do an impersonation of a court jester before it puts someone off. “Said they’re gonna recommend me to their buddies too.”

More softly, and a little bashful, looking through his lashes he adds, “Kinda wish you could’ve been there, actually.”

Oh my, is he blushing again?

“Yeah, me too. I’d love to see you work sometime…”

“You would?”

Okay, he’s definitely blushing.

He leans in over your counter, close, so he can say in a low voice,

“Uh, just so we’re on the same page, you know what I do has nothing to do with art projects, right?”

Holding his gaze, and with your voice surprisingly steady, you swallow before confirming, “Yes, Eddie. I know.”

He huffs out a stuttering breath, and the air between you seems to heat.

He lifts one hand and rubs the back of his neck nervously.

“Hey listen, uh, I dunno if this is a little too forward, or weird, or y’know, whatever,” He’s rambling now. It’s adorable.

“I was kinda gonna ask you if you wanted to get milkshakes sometime, but, uh, maybe you’d actually wanna come out on a job with me? I’ve got one coming up on Sunday that I could really use an extra pair of hands on. I could pay you of course, y’know, for your time.”

You want to blurt out that, for him, you’d willingly burn the world and everyone in it for free. Instead, you smile wide, and settle for,

“Well, my tutors are always encouraging us to get real world experience…”

“Great, so I’ll pick you up at the end of your shift?”

“Sure, Eddie. I’ll look forward to it.”

You’re both grinning, stuttering messes.

“Great! Great. Uh, okay then, I guess I’ll see you Sunday?”

As he turns to leave, you stop him with one final question.

“Just one more thing Eddie. Should I bring my own coveralls..?”

If you got this far, thanks so much for reading!!

Comments and reblogs make my world spin, do let me know what you think.

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is-the-owl-video-cute · 1 month

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Hazmat Hole 1: Overture

I went back and forth on whether to do the pilot or not, but ultimately decided not to. Pilots are meant to be an episode 0 that isn’t necessary to understanding the plot. I may go back to it after episode 8 if I’m not completely sick of this.

It starts off with a story book narration about how hell started because Lucifer was a rebel or something and just states very vaguely that he had big ideas heaven didn’t like. Also Adam was the first man, Lilith was the first woman but she didn’t like Adam and liked Lucifer better they fell in love or whatever and Lucifer gave Eve the apple and he and Lilith were banished to hell. I wish I could lie and say I was skipping over details but they used more words to explain that in about as much depth as I did there. Anyway. The important part is that Charlie is a princess of hell as the daughter of Lucifer and Lilith and the angels go down to hell annually to purge excess souls.

These two start off annoying and by god I do not see them getting any less so. Charlie is legitimately the most generic Disney Princess rip off I have ever seen in my life, complete with reading books aloud bursting into song. It’s genuinely jarring to hear her swear because you can tell the voice director basically just told her actor to pretend she’s auditioning for the little mermaid. Vaggie is annoying because she’s written like a middle schooler’s first “strong female character”. She’s the emo love interest in a B movie that was straight to video and made by people who don’t actually know what emo is.

Appropriation Deer is literally just here to make wise cracks and occasionally move in ways that make animators cry and deviantart users in 2010 scream in joy.

They could probably cut the budget in half by not having him in the show. Anyway no he is not here to do anything besides whine about how television sucks and emphasize that he’s only there at all because he’s into watching people fail and cry or whatever. He’s very flat as a character since he’s just there to be tumblr bait.

Angel is here and spends the entire episode being sexually aggressive to the point of making everyone there uncomfortable and that’s the entire joke. That’s it. He’s a gay man who says penis and wise cracks and sexually harasses the men in the hotel. Because that is how vivziepop writes her mlm characters.

We get a two for one easy joke with these two. Haha gay man is harassing a man who isn’t gay as well as haha asexual gets hit on but he says no way.

Angel is here because “crack is expensive” and they don’t charge him rent there.

Which he says while drinking a whole bottle of liquor to establish he’s an addict because vivziepop is as subtle as a bull in a China shop.

And thus we are taken to our first musical number. It’s very underwhelming.

Also Vaggie sings like she’s getting over a cold and plugging her nose and trying to do an impression of a duck.

The opening number also leaves me with a perplexing question. Can you die in hell? Do you go to super hell if you die in hell?

And we get our first real sexual harassment/assault joke from a giant slug flasher trying to make Charlie touch him in the middle of a musical number. I’m sure this bodes great for how angel’s abuse will be treated.

I hate that I know this but as someone who did shamefully hate watch sausage party twice I have to point out that Adam here is literally just a rip off of a sausage party character.

Everything down to the voice direction is literally just a rip off of the main antagonist of Sausage Party, the douche. This is probably somewhat intentional as vivziepop was a massive fan of that movie when it came out, but if you’re going to make an homage that borders on plagiarism (this is a joke I’m not accusing her of plagiarism here but it’s giving original character, donut steel), does it have to be from sausage party? Does it really? There’s other movies. Anyway he doesn’t say much, just establishes himself as a douche.

Back at the hotel they start filming a new commercial since Alastor intentionally made their first commercial bad because he wanted to make fun of them and hates TVs just that much. Nothing very interesting happens. Angel is hot horny. Husk doesn’t want to be there. Alastor makes a deal with Vaggie to help as long as she never makes him go on TV again.

We go back to Charlie begging Adam to stop coming to hell and killing demons by the hundreds every year and Adam says no in frankly one of the only songs that I like from this series. Sadly, it’s still terribly annoying and repetitive.

Viv posted meme please clap.

Isn’t this the homophobic character from the pilot? Didn’t realize she was given a male voice to imply she’s either a drag Queen or trans I guess. Great. I’m sure it’s a very artistic and respectful choice and not every other more likely reason this was the casting decision.

The episode ends with the discovery that an Angel was killed during the last extermination so they plan to come back in just six months to kill every demon in hell. I might care if any character established themselves as anything other than a vessel to spout boring exposition and sex jokes for twenty minutes.

And that’s episode one. It’s honestly just boring and all of the explicit language sounds extremely forced and awkward.

0/10, the one okay song wasn’t enough to save it. Too much exposition dumping.

#hazbin hotel #hazmat motel #hazmat hole #owlvid live-blogging

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lyriluscss · 9 months

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Propaganda:

Ari (made by several people):

— is the proud adoptive mother of at like half of tumblr at this point

— I love all my kids and would die for any of them in a heartbeat

— butterflies trust me

— so do small children and animals and baby birds

— I can swear in three different languages in the same sentence!! — I have and can perform minor avian surgery (on chickens) in my laundry room on multiple occasions

— I taught myself rudimentary Elvish when I was twelve out of the back of LOTR appendix

— I can talk about books for hoursss

— my poetry occasionally makes people cry

— I give really comfy hugs

— the name Ari (by pronunciation) means sunlight in elvish and that’s like the coolest thing about me

— I LOVE SUNRISES AND SUNSETS AND WILL GIVE PICS TO ANYONE WHO ASKS

she makes all her friends feel a bit better as always shes an amazing photographer and painter and writer

shes an earth goddess might i have to say vote for her

she makes lists of “drunk” me interactions (i’ve never been drunk in my life)

she knows how to curse in three languages in the same sentence (one word in each language)

she’s very silly

she’s the best

hozier would write a song about her

she’s studying math and man that takes guts

she's my (ex) wife

she's going to be a world famous author one day

she's one of the bravest people I know

she is a studio ghibli character

she knows how to dance!

she's the colour yellow in human form

she's EXTREMELY well read

she's my role model

she is 5 feet

she is the piss monster

her nickname is uwu

she is really smart and even though she's sometimes really stressed out she pushed through it all and always is nice to everyone

emphasis on that nice part, i had to beg her to be mean. she's an absolute angel

she's also an amazing peoples person, accommodating to all and super welcoming

she's pretty

she's going to take me to a beach

good

(y’all need to CALM DOWN with the Ari propaganda this is I think all of it—)

Grave:

They’re literally Kagamine Len real

theyre vv cool but they didn’t submit propaganda but yeah vote them or vote Ari I’m scared for this round it’s gonna be close

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joesheistyy · 1 year

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Drunkie

TW: swearing, drinking, and emetaphobia warning!!!

hella angst and stuffs

It was game day in Cincinnati, and you were so excited to go with your best friend and her boyfriend.

Your friend Charlotte was in town with her boyfriend Matthew and you all had plans to go to the big game. They were staying in an AirBnB, so the plan was to meet at the stadium, which worked out well to keep your pre game day traditions going.

Joe was getting ready for the game in the bathroom while you sat out at the vanity in your shared bedroom. You had low music playing so you did not disturb Joe. Your outfit consisted of a pair of black ripped jeans, Joe's white jersey with a hoodie under it, and a black and orange beanie. Your favorite jersey was the white one, so any opportunity to wear it was taken.

"You almost ready babe?" Joe questioned as he came out of the bathroom. You were finishing up curling your hair.

"Almost, I have like three more strands to curl. I can meet you downstairs if you want," you replied, not removing your eyes from the mirror. Joe nodded and left the room, heading downstairs to put on his shoes and gather his things for his bag.

Joe was dressed in a very well tailored suit, Bose earbuds ready to go for his walk into the stadium. Something about Joe in a suit set your insides on fire.

You made your way downstairs after making sure your curling wand was unplugged at least six times. Joe was usually pretty quiet before games, not wanting to disturb the game day headspace.

You gathered your items in your clear stadium bag as Joe started the car. You hated when people had to wait on you, so you made sure to rush to get to the car.

"Are you excited Joey?" you asked as you slid into the passenger seat of his Porsche and laid a sweet kiss on his cheek.

"Yeah I guess so, just a little nervous," he replied as he put the car in reverse, leaving the house until after the game.

Getting to the stadium early was a must for Joe before a game. Being on the quiet field before warming up helped to get him in the game day mindset.

As Joe pulled into the players parking garage, he let out a large sigh. You could tell he was nervous. Before he was able to exit the car, you grabbed his arm.

"Joe look at me," you began. He turned to face you. You grabbed his hands, "don't go out there and second guess yourself or your teammates. You all have worked so hard and you will show them who is boss. Remember to breathe, you're gonna do fine. I'm proud of you no matter what happens," you reassured him. Little pep talks like this are helpful when he seems a bit antsy.

"Thank you baby, I love you," he kissed you before exiting the car and coming around to your side of the car to open your door.

You thanked him with a kiss and walked with him into the facility.

As you made your way into the stadium, you saw Joe walking out with his headphones on. He seemed to be taking in the space before it was filled with thousands of fans cheering for him and his teammates.

You continued a small stroll around the empty seats until you decided to make your way up to the box. Joe had one for his friends and family, but tonight it was just going to be you and some friends.

Since you were there so early, you brought a book with you to read before your friends arrived. Occasionally, you would look out to the field and find Joe goofing off with his teammates. You were glad that they could cheer him up when you couldn't. Sometimes, all it took was a teammate.

Kickoff rolled around quickly and all your friends began to arrive. Hugs were given, laughs were shared, and the drinks kept coming. You never really got ragingly drunk, but your friends were incredible enablers. Not much focus was on the game, more so on the drinks.

At half time, you slowed down and sobered up a bit, hoping for a text from Joe. He rarely texted you during halftime, but sometimes it was an unexpected surprise.

Joey: Did your friends arrive?

Y/N: Yeah, we'we habing drunks

Joey: Oh really? I can tell

Y/N: Oopsies

When you saw Joe run back out to the field leading the team, you were hoping that they had a strong pep talk at the half considering that they were down 27-7 against the Browns.

The drinks kept coming, and you didn't realize how drunk you really were until you got up to go to the bathroom. You stumbled to the small stall attached to the box. While relieving yourself, you checked to see what people were saying on twitter.

They were ripping Joe to shreds. Not even taking into account the lack of help from his teammates. Games like this happen, people just love to shit talk.

You knew Joe wanted so badly to win, who wouldn't want to win? But unfortunately, the team just couldn't pull it together. The end of the game rolled around and the Bengals lost 35-24. They closed the gap a bit, yet not enough.

Since Joe was the one who drove to the game, you waited in the box for him. Your friends said their goodbyes and you were eventually left alone, waiting for Joe.

You knew he wouldn't be in a great mood, and you being absolutely shit faced was going to make things worse and you knew that.

As you sat alone, staring out into the stadium, you couldn't help but shut your eyes. The drunk sleepies were hitting.

After what felt like forever, Joe walked through the door to the box. You perked up a bit at the sound of the door opening and heavy footsteps approaching.

"Hiii Joey," you slurred and struggled to stand up.

"Hi baby," he said flatly. You went in to give him a hug, he hugged back, but not with the usual amount of squeeze back.

He began to lead you out of the box. He did a sweep of the room to make sure you didn't leave anything behind. He wrapped an arm around your waist to help you stay vertical and balanced.

Joe didn't mind having to take care of you when you were drunk, but this time was different. He wasn't happy or silly with you. WIth losing the game, you expected him to be upset, but not this upset. Maybe it was the combination of losing and having to take care of you.

As you continued the hike to the car, you kept trying to be goofy. Joe wasn't having it. His face stayed stoic and his grip on you was almost harsh.

When you got to the car, he opened your door and made sure you got in comfortably like he normally did. He swiftly walked around to the drivers side, opening his door and shutting it with a little too much force. It made you jump a little bit. He wasn't normally violent when he was upset. This of course wouldn't classify as violent for most, but Joe was not one to slam doors.

The drive home was silent besides the faint music playing from Joe's bluetooth to the car.

You shut your eyes, but that caused the spins. You tried to take deep breaths to let it pass. Opening your eyes and rolling down the window was the best bet.

Joe hated having the windows down, and he was especially afraid someone would recognize the two of you on your drive home. He rolled up your window and put on the child lock. That really made you mad.

"Joe I don't feel good. Can we please roll the window down?" you whined out.

"No, Y/N. I don't need people recognizing us driving home, especially with you in this state," he replied in a rude tone.

"Jesus Joe, I feel like I'm gonna be sick, can you just roll down the damn window?" you huffed out.

"Maybe if you wouldn't have had so much to drink, we wouldn't be in this situation," he snarked out. Your eyes darted over to him. His face was stoic. You were fuming.

No more words were exchanged on the drive home. It would only have made it worse.

Once Joe pulled into the garage, he grabbed his stuff out of the backseat and headed inside, leaving you in the car to gather your things. By the time you stumbled out of the car, the door to the house was shut and Joe was nowhere to be found.

You placed your belongings in the basket by the garage door and headed to the kitchen for some water. Or maybe a tequila shot. Who knew how long Joe would continue to be an ass.

Once you gulped down some water, you headed upstairs to change out of your cute game day outfit and into some comfy pjs. You removed your makeup and decided it was probably smart to find Joe to see if he was ok.

After searching most common rooms, you headed to where his office was located. You headed into his office and saw him watching the game over and checking twitter. There was no way in hell that would help his mood or attitude.

"What're you doing?" you ask. He spins around in his desk chair to look at you. Your body was leaned against the door frame to give yourself some stability.

"What the fuck does it look like, Y/N?" he huffed out at you.

"Jesus Joe I was just trying to check on you," you were beginning to get defensive.

"Obviously I'm pissed. I played like shit and all I get for it is having to take care of your irresponsible drunk ass," he retorted. His eyes were like daggers and you needed out.

You looked at him in disgust before leaving his office and slamming the door behind you. Joe didn't chase after you, he just turned his chair back around to back to what he was doing.

You decided to just go to bed. It wasn't worth staying up to wait for Joe to come to bed. Plus, the alcohol was really starting to make you feel like shit. You laid there for a bit with rage still filling your mind and body. But once the rage wore off, it turned to tears and you fell asleep.

After an hour or so, Joe decided to go to bed. He assumed that's where you went too, but he was hoping you were already asleep. The door creaked open to reveal you sound asleep, snores coming out of your mouth, something that only happened when you drank.

Joe walked over to your nightstand to turn out your light, but he couldn't help but notice the dried tears on your face. A pang of guilt struck him right in the heart. He knew that he was what caused those tears.

Once the light was out, he walked over to his side of the bed to climb in as easily as he could. Your back was toward him, and he knew that was a sign that you were upset. Even out of a dead sleep, you would always turn over to snuggle up to him. Joe laid in his guilt for a while until sleep took over him.

The next thing Joe knew, you were darting out of bed to get to the toilet. He knew it was best to go in after you. He knocked on the door and entered, finding your arm resting on the toilet, head on arm, and eyes closed.

Joe slowly sat down behind you, pulling you into his body and beginning to rub your back. You leaned into him, which he was honestly not expecting. He was grateful for the small sign that your relationship was okay after how he treated you.

No words were exchanged. You sat for a minute until you felt another round coming. Joe pulled your hair back as you released more alcohol.

You leaned back into his chest, a small sob wracking your body. He knew it was because of the mix of alcohol and crying yourself to sleep. Which inherently was because of his previous actions.

"I'm sorry baby, I shouldn't have taken my anger out on you," Joe admitted. You didn't move in his arms to look at him, but he could sense your body tense up at the conversation.

"I thought you didn't want to take care of my irresponsible drunk ass," you replied with quiet attitude. He held you tighter.

"Baby I'm sorry. I was just so caught up in my anger from the game and I ended up taking it out on you and you didn't deserve that," he spoke with a sigh.

"That's still not a good excuse to talk to me li-" you began before you ended up leaning back over the toilet. Joe held your hair back again, but kept his gaze toward the ground, focused on the guilt he was feeling.

Once you were done expelling more of your evening, you leaned back into Joe. The ball your body formed morphed into the way he was sitting behind you. His chin rested on top of your head in a protective way.

"Let's just talk about this in the morning when we're both in a better headspace," he said. He held you extra tight, hoping you could feel how sorry he was. He continued to rub your back, but he soon heard small snores escaping your mouth. Joe told himself that he wasn't getting up until you did. He wasn't going to leave you when you were in this state. Especially because of the way he acted earlier in the evening.

He leaned back into the cabinet and rested his head back, staring up at the ceiling. He sat with his thoughts for a bit before sleep took over, you still tightly wrapped in his arms.

You began to stir in his grasp, causing him to quickly wake up. He looked down at you to see your eyes slowly opening. You gazed up at his handsome face, meeting his pretty eyes.

"Joe, go back to bed," you demanded in your sleepy state.

"I'm not going without you, Y/N," he replied.

"Mkay," you said, leaning back into his chest.

"Do you think you're ready to go back to bed?" he asked before you got the chance to fall back asleep.

"Mhmm, just can't get up on my own," you mumbled. Joe began to move from behind you, slowly standing up and reaching for your hands. He helped you up carefully and you leaned into him once you were vertical. His hands went to your back, rubbing small circles.

"How about you brush your teeth, it'll help you sleep better," Joe suggested. You nodded into his chest as you stood up on your own to brush your teeth. Joe stood with you so he could walk you back to bed.

Once you were done, he grabbed your hand and walked you to your side of the bed, tucking you in. He began to walk toward the door.

"Joey, where are going?" you whined.

"To get you some water and ibuprofen," he replied as he walked out of the bedroom door.

You waited for Joe to get back before allowing yourself to fall asleep. He was comforting when you didn't feel well. He placed the items on your nightstand for the morning before heading to his side of the bed.

Joe gently climbed in, immediately grabbing for you. He held you close to his warm body. His big, strong, safe, and warm arms snaked around your body. You relaxed into him, feeling some small sense of normalcy.

He intently watched you until he heard snores coming from you. Your facial features were gentle, something Joe never wanted to disturb.

As Joe began to wind down his guilty thought and mind, he placed a delicate kiss to your forehead.

"I love you," he whispered.

You nuzzled up to him more as his heart fluttered, his body feeling so safe and warm. You being wrapped in his arms calmed Joe to sleep next to you. Even when mad, Joe would always try to protect you. Because in the end, its you and Joe against the world.

----

Hope y'all enjoyed! It was def better before my computer erased the last 2/3 of it *tears* <3

#joe burrow #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fic #bengals quarterback #joe sheisty #bengals #nfl imagine #nfl #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow blurb #joe burrow oneshot

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runningmunson · 2 years

Text

I Do

Pairing: Eddie Munson x gn!Reader

Word Count: 914

Summary: 3 times Eddie got down on one knee and you jokingly say I do, and the one time he gets on one knee for real

Warning: swearing

Masterlist

First time:

You were sitting on a chair reading a book, watching Eddie clean up after a long and intense campaign. You never played, usually choosing to sit next to Eddie reading, but you loved watching. They all become so animated and excited, Eddie’s eyes lighting up as he leads. To you, there is nothing better than watching the person you love do something they love.

You tore your eyes away from the pages as you heard a clatter on the floor. One of the figurines glides across the floor, landing in front of you. “Shit,” Eddie said as he walked over to pick it up, bending down to one knee.

You saw this as the perfect opportunity to mess with him a bit. The book dramatically slips out of your hands and onto the floor. You let out a gasp, a hand flying to your chest. Eddie’s head shot up to look at you.

“Eddie! I can’t believe this is happening; I thought you would never ask! I do! Of course, I’ll marry you!” You yelled excitedly. Eddie was confused at first before realizing what you were doing, panic spreading on his face. You started laughing.

“Oh- uh sweetheart, I don’t think I’m quite ready for that yet,” Eddie laughed, a shadow of a smile gracing his lips.

“I’m not ready either, but you should have seen your face!” You got up from the chair, picking your book up. “Alright, let’s finish picking this up so we can head out. A movie night is calling my name.”

“As you wish, princess,” Eddie said before going back to cleaning.

Second time:

It was late at night, and you and Eddie had just finished watching a movie. “Hey, I’m gonna go have a smoke if you wanna join me.”

Eddie grabs his pack and a lighter, walking out the front door. You followed him, sitting on the couch outside his trailer. He took a cigarette out of the pack, placing it loosely between his lips before lighting it.

You two sat in comfortable silence. Your head was leaning on his shoulder and his left hand was placed tightly on your thigh. The only movement that came from either of you was the occasional flicking of ashes into the tray sitting next to Eddie.

He leaned over to put his cigarette out then going to grab his lighter to place it in his pocket before accidentally dropping it on the ground. He got up from the couch, placing a knee on the floor to search for the dropped lighter.

“I’m so happy you are asking me to marry you! I do, Eddie!” You giggled. Eddie chuckled, finding the lighter and standing up. He grabbed your hand and pulled you up with him.

He shook his head, grinning from ear to ear, “You’re cute, you know? Now let’s get to bed.”

Third time:

Corroded Coffin had just finished a show at The Hideout. Eddie was taking his equipment back to the van with you following not far behind. He loaded an amp in the back and then turned to grab his guitar from you.

“That was a great show tonight! You guys were amazing!” You loved watching Eddie play guitar. It was hypnotizing to you.

“Thanks, babe,” he kissed you before continuing. “Oh shit, your shoe is untied. Don’t want you to trip carrying anything.” He bent down on his right knee to tie your shoe for you.

“Eddie! A hundred times yes, I do!” You throw your hands into the air. Eddie just looked up and rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what you were doing by now before finishing up with your laces.

“You know, you really gotta stop getting down on one knee in front of me if you aren’t going to propose, Munson,” you laughed.

“Oh don’t worry, you’ll have my last name soon enough,” Eddie said with a smirk, walking away and leaving you speechless.

Fourth time:

You and Eddie were taking a walk around Lovers Lake to enjoy the beautiful summer day. The weather was perfect, and the sun was beginning to set. There was a bench next to the lake that you began walking over to, wanting to enjoy the sunset. You took a seat, waiting for Eddie to join you, except he didn’t.

“(Y/N)…” Eddie called out. You turn around to see him on one damn knee again. Only this time in his hand he held a small box with a diamond ring sitting in the center. You gasp, your hand going to cover your open mouth in shock.

“I’m on my knee for real this time, babe. I love you so much. You’ve always stood by my side, always treated me like an equal. You’ve never judged me and have always been there to cheer me on in whatever I do. You’re my biggest supporter.”

“Eddie,” you whispered. Tears began pooling in your eyes.

He continued, “You saved my damn life in more than one way. You complete me and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”

“Yes! Yes, I'll marry you” You yelled, hot tears streaming down your face and a huge smile on your lips. Eddie’s face matched yours as he got up and slid the ring on your finger. He gently grabbed your face in his hands, kissing you like he’s never kissed you before.

“I can’t wait to finally say I do.”

“I can’t either.”

#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson #stranger things imagine #stranger things #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson oneshot

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fluffyhare · 2 months

Text

Like Real People Do, Part 4! ♡ (Casper x Avery)

☁️ Summary: Casper and Avery's relationship grows. Avery comes over to watch a movie that has an unexpected *scene* for Casper. Shenanigans ensue.

☁️ Warnings: Suggestive, very romantic, STUPID gay, the tickles you've been waiting for™, classic Avery teasing -- ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS

☁️ Author's Note: If you feel like I didn't go off the rails enough here, stay tuned because I swear to god, I'm just getting started~

This is a series now!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4 *you are here

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

If you just got here and want to know more about my characters, you can read my comic starting right here!

Avery came to visit me the night after we went to the fair. And the next. And the next.

Occasionally we'd skip a day or two, if he was working on research late into the night, or if I had after-hours systems testing at my job, but before long we had spent the equivalent of a week together. Then a month. Then two.

Sometimes I would cook for him, helping him experience all the culinary delights he had denied himself due them being “unnecessary” pleasures. He found most dry food intolerable, but he loved all kinds of soup, fruit, and especially ice cream. I made sure to always have a case of sparkling water on-hand, too, just for him.

Some nights, he would take me back to his lighthouse and we would spend the evening together there, sipping tea and playing board games on his tiny kitchen table (Avery usually won). We shared affectionate hugs and glances. Sometimes, he would touch my hand across the kitchen table as I pored over how to beat him at cards, making me lose my concentration. He always carried me home before it got too late.

When we weren't together, we texted; sweet greetings, inside jokes, photos from our lives. We playfully competed against each other for who could make the most bored face while working, or who could take a prettier sunset picture. True to his word, he also texted me when he needed things; strange mechanical parts, books about advanced scientific concepts, refills for his tea cabinet.

I let him take point and followed his lead, never initiating, allowing him to discover and express his feelings in his own time. He was shy, but he could be playful at times, too – I wasn't sure if he knew it, but his teasing flustered me out of my wits. I was fairly certain he didn't know about… that, but there had been some close calls; a good-natured nudge to the ribs that sent me reeling, or a hug that ended with his fingertips lightly grazing my sides. I recalled one incident at the movie theatre when he whispered a little too close to my ear, necessitating me to hold my breath until he was done speaking. That time, I thought I wouldn't make it.

It was autumn, my favorite season. I had not grown up around deciduous trees, and I was delighted to watch the foliage in Port Oleander cycle through a rainbow of warm hues. The sun was beginning to set as I stood in my kitchen, gently stirring a pot of homemade miso soup – Avery's favorite – when my phone buzzed.

What are you doing, dewdrop?

makin soup for you :3

Ooh, what kind?

its a surprise!!

I'm sure I'll love it.

Hey, I wanted to ask you something… Do you want me to stay the night tonight?

“Wow,” I thought. That was a big step for Avery. We'd cuddled a bit before, but not in bed, and we'd never spent the night, either. My heart beat a bit faster. What if I did something embarrassing in my sleep? Would he notice if I wasn't wearing my binder? Would he care?

I took a bit too long to answer, so he followed with:

If you're not comfortable, I totally understand.

no!! i would love for you to stay over. my beds not as big as yours but i think it's comfy.

Sounds good! I can't wait to see you, dewdrop. I'm bringing a movie to watch.

which one!!!

Hehe… it's a surprise.

can't wait💙

+++

It wasn't long before Avery arrived. As I opened the door, I grinned at the sight of him in his fall outfit. It was the first really cold day of autumn, and he'd worn an alpine sweater, a blue scarf, and jeans instead of his usual slacks. I rushed into his huge embrace, burying my face in his soft chest. He was especially tall and fluffy that day – I estimated he was about six-foot-five (195cm ♡) – which told me he was well-hydrated and full of energy. I inhaled as I nuzzled into his chest -- he smelled like cloves and old books.

“Hello, dewdrop,” he said fondly, squeezing me close to him and stroking my hair. “It smells wonderful in here." He took a seat on the couch, setting a DVD on the coffee table.

“It'll be done soon! Are you hungry?”

“Casper, I'm always hungry when you're cooking.”

I giggled, sampling the soup as I walked over to him. “Is this the movie you brought?”

“Yes, I wasn't sure if you'd seen it, but you said you liked old animated films. This is one of my favorites, so I thought I'd share it with you.”

It was a copy of The Secret of NIMH. It made sense that Avery liked it – understandably, he had a penchant for fringe science and supernatural concepts.

“Oh, I love this movie!” I had a copy of it, too, but it was in storage somewhere.

I brought two bowls of soup over to the couch. Though I was pleased with how it came out, I wasn't particularly hungry; I was too riled up, thinking about Avery staying the night. I noticed that he'd brought a canvas bag with him. I wondered what his pajamas looked like. I wondered about a lot of other things, too.

“Ahh, you scamp, this is my favorite! Thank you for making it, it's delicious,” Avery chirped, sipping the clear broth greedily. I never tired of watching him eat; the liquid entering his mouth and then being swept up in the swirling vortex of his head, disappearing in an instant. The hot soup made him steam a bit, little whips of vapor rising from his skin.

I put the movie in and turned off the light, snuggling into his side. Though his sweater was soft, I wished that I could feel his bare arm instead as he wrapped it around me. His cool fingers rested on my forearm, and I could feel the wind rushing beneath his skin.

We watched the movie quietly, every now and then making comments on the score and animation of the Don Bluth film.

“Justin reminds me of you,” I said, grinning.

“Oh, really? Hehe. He is charming, isn't he? He's just like me, for real.” Avery put his hands on his hips and struck a playfully haughty pose, just like in Justin's introduction scene. The temptation to take him down a peg was immense, but somehow, I resisted.

“Dude, you cannot pull off slang like that at all,” I said, laughing.

“Got you to giggle though, didn't I?”

I blushed, but summoned some confidence and fired back anyway.

“Pfff. Just like Mr. Ages said about Justin, you're a feather-head, too.”

Avery laughed openly, causing me to get a terrible case of butterflies as he trembled against my body.

“I can't argue with that,” he said.

We watched the movie a while longer. The scene with Jenner in the auditorium ended, and the next scene featuring Jeremy started to play. He was tangled up in his string, as usual, and was involved in some banter with the suspicious old shrew, who was admonishing him for sneaking around. She paced back and forth on screen, rigging up Jeremy's string to nearby branches and hoisting him into the air.

Suddenly, I remembered this scene. My body stiffened a bit against Avery, and I felt my ears beginning to flush. Without meaning to, I held my breath.

The mice kids were calling Jeremy a turkey, and demanding to know where their mother was. One of them jumped on top of Jeremy, clawed fingers scratching his sides as he laughed, crying, “No, stop! You're tickling!”

Luckily, the scene was over quickly. I exhaled as quietly as possible, but then, Avery paused the movie. My heart dropped.

“I've noticed something about you,” he said slowly.

“Y-yes?” I tried to sound normal. I sounded nothing close.

“Whenever this topic comes up, I observe a kaleidoscope of emotions from you. You flush, stutter, look away, squirm, and hold your breath. I've let it slide many times, but now, I'm curious. This tickling… has an interesting effect on you that it doesn't seem to have on other humans.

“I know what tickling is, in theory, but it’s a human behavior that doesn't exist in Cirropa. I'm dying to know what about it gets you so… flustered like this? And why you're so desperate to hide it from me.”

I swallowed hard, suddenly and painfully aware of every contact point between Avery’s body and mine, especially his fingers resting on my arm. How could I explain this without saying it out loud?

“Ahh, well, um… it's… I just…” I babbled incoherently. My breath came in short gasps as my fingers and toes grew clammy.

Avery shifted on the couch, turning to face me. In the glow of the TV screen, his eyes were intense, but there was the faintest hint of a smirk playing around his lips.

“I am a scientist, you know. If you don't tell me, I'm not afraid to test a hypothesis. But let's clear this up first, at least – does it make you uncomfortable in a bad way? Is it painful for you? I have a feeling it's the opposite… very opposite… but I have to be sure.”

“Ahh, errrr… no…”

“No, what?”

“No, it… doesn't make me uncomfortable in a bad way, and it isn't painful.”

“Hmmm… what isn't?”

“What?”

“What isn't painful, Casper?”

“...”

“Oh, stars. This ruffles you so badly you can't even say the word, can you? Oh, dewdrop… you know I have to try it, now.”

Alarm bells went off in my head as I felt my blush flood from my ears, to my cheeks, to the rest of my face. I scrambled backwards from Avery, but with such speed I almost couldn't detect it, he was on top of me, one knee on each side of my hips.

I screamed.

“No Avery! Nohohoho plehehehehease don't hahahahaha!”

“My god, I haven't even touched you yet! I hear you saying no– do you really want me to stop?” His smirk was huge now, and I could barely stand to look at him. He knew exactly what he was doing.

I hid my face in my hands, causing Avery to giggle.

“I knew it! Humans are so cute sometimes! Here, sweetheart, I'll give you one last out. If you want me to stop, snap your fingers.”

A moment of silence passed, my hands still firmly covering my face.

“Hehehe… Alright, then. You quite literally asked for it.”

With that, I felt Avery's fingertips light on each side of my ribcage. He started softly and deftly flexing them, gently skittering along the sides of my body.

I'd been tickled plenty of times before, by previous partners and friends. Generally, they were so excited to tickle me, so caught up in a moment of playfulness that they dug their fingers into me… which did usually tickle quite a lot, but it also hurt a bit, too, and made it difficult to enjoy.

Avery's tickling was entirely different. He was methodical, comprehensive. Playful, but gentle. His fingertips were incredibly soft and dexterous as they prodded and kneaded along my ribcage. Avery worked with delicate scientific instruments, and he tickled like he did, too; it was like nothing I'd ever felt.

“Ahahahahahaveryyyy!! Hahahahaha!” I cried, squirming beneath his fingers, my unrestrained hands grabbing uselessly at his forearms; he was so strong, it didn't seem to phase him in the slightest.

“Hehehe, you are so sensitive to this! Oh, this is so cute, Casper! If I had known you liked this sooner, I would have already played with you like this so many times. I wonder where else you're ticklish? If we go by evolutionary theory, it would probably be a vital point, like here,” he teased, his soft fingertips moving from my ribcage to the sides of my neck, his cool fingers gliding merrily along my bare skin.

I blushed so hard, I was sure my whole body must be red.

“AAAHAHAhahahaha!” I squealed, reaching my hands up to protect myself. I could feel moisture beginning to bead in the corners of my eyes. Avery's fingertips tickled so much, it was like an eclipse for my mind, blocking out any thoughts and leaving only the delicious torture of sensation.

Avery stopped, looking down at me with concern.

“You're starting to cry, are you okay?” He asked, his brow furrowed as he reached out to cup my hot cheek in his soft palm, gently wiping my tear with his thumb.

“Hehehe… I'm okay, Avery… I cry when I laugh sometimes,” I said, placing my hand reassuringly over his. His cold skin was a relief, as I was already starting to sweat.

“Hmm… if you do things like cry, and say ‘stop’ out of instinct, how will I know when you're ready for me to really stop?”

“Aheh, well… time for some vocabulary, I guess. That's called a safeword, but safewords don't always work with this, because sometimes you're laughing so hard you can't get it out. I've found it's better to tap out,” I showed him by tapping my fingers on the couch, “but it's always good to check periodically, too.”

“What other words should I know?”

“Well… there is ‘ler’, which means someone who likes to ‘teekay’ other people, and ‘lee’, someone who likes to be ‘teekayed’.”

“So… does that mean you're a lee?”

I chuckled; my turn to smirk.

“No, I'm the ‘secret third thing’ – a switch. Someone who likes both.”

“O-Oh.” Avery blushed exquisitely.

“You wanna give it a try?”

“It does seem like fun…”

My heart was pounding. “Why don't we move to the bed, then? You can't really stretch out on this couch like I can. You'll be more comfortable there.”

“Hehe… lead on, dewdrop.”

#tickle fic #tickle fluff #tickling community #casper and avery #like real people do #fluffylore #writing #my fic #romance #tickling #ocs #my ocs

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torscrawls · 29 days

Text

Out of the Loop ch.1

When his family moved to Amity, Wes promised to keep to himself and stay far away from conspiracies. But it doesn’t count if the strange happenings come to him, right? What’s with everyone’s insistence that ghosts are real? What’s with all the white security cameras? And what does it all have to do with the quiet and nerdy boy in the back of the class? For once, Wes feels like he’s the one out of the loop.

Wordcount: 2,293

Can be read on AO3!

I jumped at an excuse to finally write a fic about Wes! And I'm having a blast!

This is written for the prompts:

"Everyone knows the connection between Danny Fenton and Phantom. To keep their town's hero safe, everyone pretends to be oblivious. Only this one kid doesn't seem to have gotten the memo." by @vigilant-insomniac

And

"Somehow it's revealed that Phantom is posing as a student at Casper High. The GIW begins taking measures to find him, the Fentons not that far behind." by @wastefulreverie

---

Wes looked out the back window of the car as they drove through the town that was to be their new home. The move to Amity Park was going to be a new start, an opportunity to put their past behind them and start anew in a place with surprisingly affordable houses. Suspiciously affordable.

The streets they drove through were lined with picturesque houses and small shops, parks and strolling people of all ages. It would have been idyllic if not for the big holes littering the street, the occasional toppled streetlamp and a couple of broken, smoking, cars lining the road.

Wes frowned as he took it all in. The town’s news-station hadn’t mentioned anything special happening lately and he had made sure to keep himself up-to-date on what was going on in their new home. “What happened here?”

“Maybe they have some trouble with gangs or something?” Kyle said from the passenger seat, feet on the dashboard and the DS in his hands blaring the same mind-numbing music as it had for the last 15 years.

“Gangs?” Wes questioned as they passed an overturned bus that was partially covered in some sort of green substance. “This looks more like a war zone.”

“It’s not that bad,” their dad tried from the front seat.

As if to prove him wrong they passed a small gathering of people and Wes sat up straighter and stared. “Is that… Is that woman carrying a bazooka?”

“Don’t stare,” his dad admonished him weakly, but Wes noticed him speeding up. “It’s rude.”

“Isn’t it more rude to carry weapons in public?”

“Well,” their dad said as he strummed his fingers on the wheel, ignoring Kyle, “I’m sure the real estate agent would have said something if it was truly bad. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.” The last part he added while glancing at Wes through the rear-view mirror

“Right,” Wes agreed as he leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. He would not get them in trouble again by diving head-first into supposed “unfounded” conspiracy theories.

He was still sure that his last homeroom teacher had been a werewolf and if they hadn’t confiscated the silver bullet he could have proved it! If only they had known all the trouble he had gone through to get it in the first place…

Kyle looked up from his game. “Oh, cool. Is there a LARP event in town?”

For the first time in his life, Wes desperately hoped Kyle was right.

——

His new school was… strange.

It had nothing to do with his new their homeroom teacher spouting book-titles instead of swears, or the fact that he had seen devices that looked a lot like guns poking out of several of his classmates’ bags, or even the white surveillance cameras he had spotted in almost every room and corridor— Okay. Those things were strange too, but what made Wes keep his head down, hands to himself and observe was the fact that even though this class had the typical cliques that you’d expect, there was none of the animosity.

Sure, there were harsh words exchanged, laughter and teasing and even a thrown paper-ball before class started, but there was no real anger and their homeroom teacher Mr. Lancer called people out on it with the same conviction as if he was ticking off boxes on a list.

Almost as if they were acting out a script.

Wes’ shoulders drew closer and closer to his ears as the day wore on, desperately trying not to look too closely. He was just stressed out because he was new in town, he was sure. He was just unused to this school. He had promised not to do this again.

He kept telling himself this until suddenly the math-class was interrupted by a loud alarm; the sudden sound blaring from speakers and swallowing him up in a rush of fear.

Wes ducked under his table with an aborted scream, his chair scraping loudly against the linoleum floors as he hunkered down before looking around wildly. But no one else even got up.

A couple of snickers floated through the air.

“Seriously? The ghost hasn’t even attacked yet!”

“Be nice to him, he’s new!”

Wes slowly peaked out from under the table and saw his new classmates laughing at him. Well, at least that was familiar. Wes decided to stay beneath his table. “What’s going on?!”

“It’s a ghost attack,” a girl to his right said—what was her name? Star?—as she stayed right in her seat and inspected her nails.

“A ghost attack?! What does that mean?!”

She looked at him with surprise clear on her face. “Don’t you know what ghosts are?”

Then a boy at the back of the class, who Wes was fairly certain had slept through the whole class up until this moment, sat up straight, raised his hand, and without waiting for Mr. Lancer to call on him he said, “Mr. Lancer? Can I go to the bathroom?”

“Really, Daniel?”

The whole class got really quiet.

For some reason, this kid asking to use the bathroom seemed to instill more fear in his new classmates than the blaring alarm did. Wes didn’t want to know. He didn’t.

The kid nodded. “Yes Mr. Lancer. We have a test in ten minutes, don’t we?”

As if that made any sense.

Mr. Lancer waved him off with a nod and Wes looked on in mounting horror as this scrawny boy got up and ran out of the room. Nobody stopped him.

The school was under some sort of attack and he just ran out of the classroom! Wes had a sinking feeling that he would never see him again.

He was momentarily brought out of his stupor by Mr. Lancer clearing his throat and announcing loudly, speaking over the still blaring sound of the alarm, “Now, now, students! You know the drill!”

Several sighs and groans erupted from the students, but they all got out of their seats and sat down on the floor; huddling under their desks with practiced motions as if they had done this innumerable times before.

“Looks like we’ll be joining you down here!” Star said as she ducked under her own table with a big smile, a gun suddenly in her hand.

Wes simply stared at her dumbly until another cardboard box hurled in their direction made him blink back to reality. Or what passed for reality here.

“What is going—?” Wes started, but stopped dead as a carbon box suddenly hurtled through the air from nowhere; hitting the wall opposite the whiteboard. Wes screamed and ducked down, deciding that whatever horrible thing was going on, he was better off out of harm’s way on the floor.

“Tremble before me!”

Wes felt his mouth open in shock as he stared at the glowing, floating, man suddenly passing right through the classroom wall and screaming with his hands raised high.

Wes expected panic. He expected chaos. What he did not expect was for the nerdy red-head two seats in front of him to shuck his notebook right at the floating man with an annoyed shout of, “Get out of here!”

A couple of the other students started taunting the floating man in mocking tones.

“Oh, look at me, I have a cardboard box, aren’t I great?

“My cat thinks the same thing!”

“Get your boxes from Amazon like the rest of us, you freeloader!”

“Just because you’re a ghost doesn’t mean you can start littering everywhere!”

Wait. Did someone just call that thing a ghost?

Wes looked back at the glowing, floating man and squinted his eyes. He didn’t look like any ghost he had ever heard about.

“I command all things square!” The flying and glowing man in the front of the classroom bellowed as several more boxes of cardboard floated through the room’s walls and stopped; suspended in mid-air and glowing.

And just like that, several students whipped out the gun-like devices from their bags and then proceeded to aim them at the apparent ghost. Like actual guns. Oh god, they were guns.

He had heard that small towns had a lot of guns, but children having them? In school?!

The first thought that struck him was an offended; he hadn’t even been allowed a bullet! The second; he wanted to go home.

This was quickly followed by the sickening realization that this was his home now.

The students all around him didn’t seem to have the same existential crisis as him as they screamed at the floating man.

“Get out of here Boxy.”

“Yeah, we have an exam coming up.”

“You all fear me more than you puny tests!”

“We really don't.”

And then several of the students opened fire.

The Box ghost, or whatever his name was, yelped and ducked behind several rickety cardboard boxes that disintegrated from the actual lasers shooting out of the guns.

Wes ducked further under his table and tried to get his breathing under control as the Box ghost screamed, “I command all the boxes in this school! And soon I will command you!”

Wes waved to get the attention of his neighbor, Star, who was the only one who had tried to explain anything about what was going on, and screamed, “Has someone called the police?!”

Star laughed, gun still smoking in her hand. “And what would they do? It’s cool, I’m sure that Phantom will arrive any—”

She was cut off by the sudden arrival of another flying and glowing figure. But this one wasn't met with sighs and mockery. No. This one was met with cheers. Wes felt his understanding of the situation slid that much further out of his grasp.

“Ghost boy!”

“Hey Phantom!”

“There’s a tough opponent for you today!”

Everyone laughed.

The newly arrived boy, apparently called Phantom of all things, squared up against the other glowing individual in the room and said, “Well, Boxy, let’s do this.”

“You can’t stop me and my boxe—”

He was tackled before he could finish his sentence, through the teacher’s desk. Mr. Lancer got up with a too calm expression on his face for someone who just had two glowing and fist-fighting individuals dumped into his lap.

Then the boy pulled a thermos from his belt and then sucked the man into it. And just like that there was only the boy left, clipping the thermos back on his belt and dusting off his hands. The alarm turned off and everyone cheered. Wes felt faintly sick.

Mr. Lancer cleared his throat and gave the white surveillance camera at the back of the room a pointed look. “Remember class, what do we say?”

“Stay away from us you horrible ghost!” The whole class echoed dutifully, without any real feeling behind it.

Phantom saluted and promptly left the room, leaving them in a silence that only lasted a moment before people started shuffling out from under their desks and an excited chatter started up. Wes caught snippets about the fight, the boy ghost, Phantom, and about homework of all things. No one seemed especially bothered by the interruption.

A goth girl and a nerd in the back picked up the cardboard boxes and—after a stern look from the girl—showed them into the cardboard recycling.

Wes turned back to Star, intent to get at least some explanation on what had just happened. “What was that?”

She looked at him as if he was the crazy one. “What was what?”

“What just happened?! Who was that floating man?! And the boy? What happened with that… that thermos?!” Wes gestured around them as if encompassing the whole room, but of course; there was nothing left in the room to indicate that anything strange had happened at all.

Star pursed her lips in though as she threw a short look towards the back of the room. “We don’t have time for this now. Tone it done, alright? You sound insane.”

“I sound insane?!”

“Yeah. We’ll talk after class.” She sent another look towards the back of the room. “They are watching.”

“Who?!” Wes exclaimed and went to turn around to see what she kept looking at but her hand whipped out and grabbed his shoulder, hard enough to almost hurt and definitely hard enough to keep him from turning.

She shook her head minutely and hissed out, “The guys in white.”

As if that wasn’t a completely insane thing to say. Was this what Wes had sounded like to his classmates? He hoped not.

Wes felt his shoulders slump in defeat as he sank down in his chair. “…Is this hazing? Are you all messing with me?”

Star smiled. “Oh, no. We don’t really have time for things like that here.” She let go of his shoulder and then patted it gently before putting her gun back in her backpack and sitting down in her own chair, back to studying her nails.

And that was that. Mr. Lancer straightened up and managed to get everyone to quiet down before starting the lecture again as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

The boy who had left for the bathroom came back a few minutes later, miraculously still alive, silently taking his seat in the back again, only interrupted by one of the jocks sticking out his foot and tripping him halfway. Wes didn’t know if he imagined the jock whispering an apology right afterwards or not.

Wes sat up straight with his eyes fixed on the bathroom-boy. Screw not caring. Screw his dad and his warnings to stay out of trouble. Screw the psychologists and their speeches about not getting too invested in things straight out of fantasies. Wes wanted to know everything.

#danny phantom #dp #danny phantom fic #dp fanfic #wes weston #phic phight #phic phight 24 #phic #my writing

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