#maybe get her more plant and yard stuff

[cometapollo]

mother's day is coming up and i wanna die (/nsrs).... (/hsrs)

#fuck you mother #OH I CAN MAKE MY STEPMOM SOMETHING... #maybe get her more plant and yard stuff

[creative-caramel-coffee]

It’s me again, something similar happened to me yesterday when I was moving to school, and could really use the girls for comfort rn

R is stressed trying to quickly move things, perhaps moving into wandanat room? When she falls, to her it’s blank one minute she was standing the next she’s in pain on the floor? Obviously r is stubborn and tries to carry on not wanting to be seen as weak or lazy. But the girls notice and immediately go into caring mode where the see r is actually bleeding and hurt her ankle.

“Oh my sweet girl you could’ve come to us. We aren’t mad. Let’s clean you up”

“You can’t walk darling, you’ll make it worse”

“Lots of love for our love bug”

“Shhh no saying sorry. They are not necessary sweet girl, you can’t help it”

Any fluffy comfort dialogue 🥹

~ 🕯️ I would like this emoji like you suggested so you can see I’m the writer you’ve been on my page recently lmao

Moving in but with crutches

Pairings: Wandanat x R

Word count: 1.5K

Summary: Reader is super excited to move in with her girls but she’s a little clumsy and ends up needing some tlc

TW: light mentions of blood, sprain (implied), injury

A/n sorry this took so long to get done but I hope you like it. I really enjoyed writing it. Also I’m happy for you to be 🕯 anon :)

It was finally time. Ever since moving to the compound your gaze had trailed after them like a lost puppy. Them, being the power couple of the compound. Them, being Wanda and Natasha.

You were sure the mind reader and spy couldn’t have missed the light shades of pink that dusted your cheeks every time they spoke to you. Or maybe they just thought you weren’t very sun safe, either way it didn’t matter now because the three of you had been dating for four months now and despite all the milestones that are in a relationship this one was the one you were most excited for. Moving in with them.

Sure, you had been sleeping in their bed for like two weeks now, but it was never really officially your room. You still had all your stuff in the other smaller room tony had built for you when you joined the team. Wanda and Nat party because they were sharing a room and party because they had been on the team for far longer, had a much larger and your opinion much nicer room. Furnished with Wanda’s touches and Natasha’s tastes. There were enough plants, courtesy of Wanda, to compete with a forrest and it was just beautiful.

You had spent the morning packing your stuff into box’s, sure it was just across the hall, but your stuff was important to you, and you wanted the full experience.

You came to the tower with nothing but your name and the clothes on your back, so you wanted the full nine yards. Wanda and Nat were supportive and had been helping you pack. But as lunch neared all of you were getting hungry so nat and Wanda had gone out to pick up some takeaway. Claiming that the living alone lifestyle was about to change, and you should make the most of it. Of course, that statement led to an argument over who was more of a blanket hog which you did your best not to be roped into.

Once the two had secured their keys and left, still bickering however, you turned up your music and moved over to some of the heavier items.

Pulling the books off the bookshelf and placing them neatly in boxes you moved over to the lamp. But in your haste accidentally pulled on the chord.

One second you were upright and the next thing you knew you were on the floor. As your senses came back to you and you shifted into a sitting position, the pain flooded in. Your ankle was bleeding, the bulb must have smashed, and on top of that the joint hurt like all hades.

Despite the calming breathes you took your ankle was starting to look worse. A light blue bruise that you were sure was only going to darken began to form around the joint and you closed your eyes.

Thank God you had turned up the music or someone would have surely come in to see if you were ok. How embarrassing, being an avenger only to be taken down by a lamp. No. You were not lazy. You were not weak.

Sucking in a breath you carefully got to your feet trying to avoid the glass. Putting any pressure on the ankle made it feel like you were stepping on a thousand suns, but you simply pushed through. You were not weak. You were an avenger. You moved as fast as possible to clean up the mess, which let's be honest wasn’t very fast.

You swept the glass up and placed the seemingly undamaged corpse of a lamp into a box for later. However, it was now no longer welcome in your new room. No. You made a small pledge to hide that box for when your ankle was better and seek some revenge on the stupid piece of furniture.

You had just finished sealing off the box of nightmares with the packing tape when two short raps came from the open doorway. You turned around as smoothly as you could with the pain in your foot and smiled at Natasha.

“Hey baby, Wanda’s gone to start getting the food ready in the kitchen are you gonna join us?” She asked.

“Yeah sure. Like I’d ever say no to that.” You said trying your best to hide a wince as you took a step towards Nat. Her brow furrowed and eyebrows pinched together as she didn’t miss the action at all.

“Baby? are you ok?” She asked. You wavered but plastered on the fake smile you used for Tony’s galas.

“One hundred percent. Did you get pad Thai?” You asked and tried to change the subject. Nat knew something was wrong and looked you up and down doing a mental scan to find the problem. You knew you were screwed when her eyes zeroed in on your sock. You had slipped it on last minute to hide the cut on your foot and in your haste had managed to miss the fact it had bled through the pale fabric.

Nat was over by your side in an instant, she guided you by your shoulders to the bed and pressed down to make you sit.

“Sit” she said leaving zero room for questions. You simply nodded as she crouched down and placed your foot on her knee. Gently she peeled back the sock and sighed at the semi-deep cut that ran down your heel. Your ankle was swollen and looked angry, and Nat was surprised you were able to walk at all but suspected that the fading adrenaline may have something to do with it.

“Wanda!” She yelled and the two of you heard hurried footsteps and Wanda appeared in the doorway.

“Yes?! Whats the matter?” She asked looking panicked. When she saw the two of you were still alive and breathing, she sighed and placed a hand over her heart.

“Jesus don’t do that nat.” She said. Nat shrugged.

“Sorry baby. Can you grab the first aid kit in the bathroom Y/n/n here felt she could hide something from us.” She said gesturing to the ensuite and then your foot which was propped up in her lap. She was holding the destroyed sock to the cut to stop the bleeding which made you wince. Wanda nodded and disappeared before coming back with the kit and placing it down beside Nat.

Wanda gave the injury a proper look now and softened her gaze and took your hand, rubbing circles on your knuckles with her thumb.

"Oh, my sweet girl you could've come to us. We aren't mad. Let's clean you up" she said.

“I-its fine. Im fine. No problem.” You said and went to move your foot from Nat’s lap who had just finished bandaging the cut. She grabbed your calf gently but tightly and glared at you before softening at the sight of tears in your eyes.

"You can't walk darling; you'll make it worse" she said gently and you huffed.

Wanda stood and sat next to you on the bed and began pressing kisses to your cheek and arms.

“It just means lots of love for our love bug" she said and pulled you in for a hug. Nat nodded and joined the hug.

“Sorry.” You said in a small voice. But Nat hushed you with a kiss to the lips it was soft and tender. When she pulled away, she looked into your eyes.

"Shhh no saying sorry. That’s not necessary sweet girl, you can't help it" she said and rubbed her nose against yours in a gentle moment of pure love.

“Do you want me to bring the food here or Natty can carry you into the lounge so we can prop your foot up to eat? Either way you're getting ice and rest on the ankle.” Wanda said and you let a single tear fall at the tenderness of it all. Wanda was quick to wipe it away and press a kiss to the tear track.

“Baby don’t cry love. We’ve got you honey.” She said and you sniffled.

“The lounge maybe?” You said and Wanda chuckled.

“Of course, sweetheart. Nat?” She said and gestured to you who grinned like a feral animal and scooped you up with little to no warning. You squealed and clutched your arms around her. She laughed deeply and you swatted her chest. The three of you went to the lounge and Nat called Bruce to bring you some crutches for later and Wanda finished prepping the food.

After the three of you were cuddled up under a blanket with ice on your ankle and old movie reruns playing in the background. Soon you drifted to sleep as Wanda ran her hands through your hair and nat traced patterns on your exposed thigh. After all you were only in a large t-shirt and boxers. The rest of the team was away apart from Bruce, but he never left the lab anyway. You we’re content. Happy. Safe. And loved. Life couldn’t get any better.

MASTERLIST

#marvel #the avengers #sicfic #wanda maximoff #wandanat #natasha romanov #wanda marvel #natasha romaoff #wandanat comfort #wandanat x reader #comfort #hurt/comfort #hurt reader #hurt r #injured reader #injured r #light blood #injury #whump #no angst #maybe slight angst #soft wandanat #Thai food #marvel sicfic #Bruce banner #wandanat x r #fluff #marvel comfort fic #self insert #y/n

[archangeldyke-all]

sevika and reader who've grown together and now are "slow living" (it's not as easy as it sounds) or whatever people are calling it. reader is always outside working on the ever-growing garden of veggies, fruits, herbs, and flowers. sevika is the home depot lesbian of the house, always fixing pipes or upgrading things in the house. maybe they got a honeybee hive recently? just domestic bliss in that!!

this is the dream. like actually.

men and minors dni

when you first buy the property, it's a dilapidated little house in the middle of a few acres of overgrown weeds and bushes. it's an ugly sight, but you and sevika have a dream.

sevika works on the house, and you work on the garden.

anything you want in the house, sevika will build. built in bookcases and shelves? done. a big kitchen island and a walk in pantry? you got it, babe. heated bathroom tiles, a wrap around porch, even a built in laundry chute. she just wants to make you happy.

she lets you pick out all the paint colors and appliances and features. she has no opinions on interior design, she just wants to build you your dream home.

you spend the fall clearing the land, the winter designing the garden. and then when spring comes, you finally get to get your hands in the dirt and start planting.

sevika helps you with some bigger projects. the pond on your property is perfect for ducks, so sevika constructs a little coop they can live in when they're not swimming. it also means you get fresh eggs, whenever! (there's nothing sevika loves more than a freshly made omelet for breakfast, except for maybe you.)

your first year on the land, you focus on your vegetable garden.

but as the years go on, you begin to expand. you and sevika plant an orchard in the backyard, all your favorite fruit and nut trees. you transform your front yard into a native wildflower garden, attracting butterflies and hummingbirds and bees in the spring.

when she finishes with the house, sevika moves onto building you guys a swimming pool.

you get a few goats for milk and weed maintenance. sevika builds them a lavish little barn by the duck's coop.

you feed the animals, and sevika collects the eggs and milk. sevika refuses to go anywhere near the beehive-- she swears they hate her. you think she's just scared of bugs. it's fine, though, you don't mind the bees being your own responsibility.

after long enough, you guys build enough solar panels for your property to be completely self-sustaining.

your lives become much slower and smaller.

in the mornings, you both share tea on the porch as the sun and birds begin to rise and wake.

you go off to do your morning chores, and then you make the two of you breakfast. if the weather's nice enough, you guys like to eat out on a little picnic table in the middle of your wildflower field.

your days are spent working. sometimes in the garden, sometimes in the kitchen, sometimes helping sevika maintain the house. there's always a record playing inside. sevika's always within yelling distance. between chores, when you have a loaf of bread in the oven or when sevika's waiting for paint to dry, you guys are always chatting with one another, or swaying along to the music, or making out on the nearest flat surface.

while she lets you handle most of the garden and food stuff in the house, she loves to cook you dinner. so you get to spend your evenings sipping on wine and watching sevika whip up a meal for you.

it's a lot to maintain, but it's a fulfilling life to lead. and with sevika by your side, it's the easiest thing in the world.

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

[cikebabbler]

It's been a year since I read tpw and it's still stuck in my head so I made a house for rin in the sims 4

I took some inspiration from modern Chinese architecture. The color scheme is mostly red and dark brown. I tried to keep it rustic and simple. The landscaping is also unkempt, and she definitely does not care.

Also, there's this window in the sims 4 that's the only window in the game that a sim can get through. So I put a lot of those all over the house. I feel rin would appreciate the multiple escape routes just in case something happens.

I also intentionally avoided wood for the house structure so rin can't burn the whole place down.

This is the living room, nice and cozy. I think rin would not be trusting of modern technology, so I didn't give her any television or computer. The most modern thing she has is probably the light bulbs and the bubble machine, which changes a sim's emotions. That's the closest thing to that in the game.

Not much art around the place, except for the map of course. I did scatter around things I thought could be used as a weapon, because there isn't much weapon items in the game. So there's a lot of baseball bats around the place, some fire pokers, and knives.

A small kitchen and dining area. There are a bunch of coals lying around too. I like to think of them as things rin accidentally or intentionally burnt. Every window is almost covered by a curtain because rin would not want people outside to be able to see what she's doing. Also, every single plant in the house was put there by kitay to "liven up the place".

This is the bedroom with a desk. More of the easy escape windows. Rin managed to fill her desk and an entire wall for her strategy planning about something. I'm planning to give nezha a house across from her, so maybe she's suspicious of nezha and trying to work out a plan to foil his plans. She might be obsessed.

The bedroom is also lofted so rin can see almost the entire house from wherever she is. No hiding places for anyone trying to get to her. There are also mushrooms randomly placed around the house to represent stuff.

There's also a bathroom but it's just an ordinary bathroom.

This is her yard with planter boxes where she can plant things, workout equipment, and a large space for training.

So that's rin's house I made in the sims 4

#the poppy war trilogy #the poppy war #the dragon republic #the burning god #fang runin #the sims 4

[yoshihashismattebum]

9 People I'd Like to Get to Know Better

Thanks @sycamoretrees for the tag!

Last song: I'm going to cheat and go for a whole album. I've been really enjoying Where's My Utopia? by Yard Act recently: deceptively clever stream-of-consciousness lyrics that walk the line between wry irony and passionate sincerity, all set to post-punk beats that you can dance to. (Shout-out to HELLMODE by Jeff Rosenstock and Sorry for the Late Reply by Sløtface too – both brilliant albums as well)

And while I'm breaking the rules, I might as well mention my wrestling playlist that I've been working on! It's a really eclectic mix of songs that remind me of various different things in wrestling – feuds, characters, general vibes etc. It's not finished yet (I'd like to organise it thematically and write some annotations to explain my thinking behind the choices), but maybe you'll find something on there you like!

Favourite colour: it's a tie between blue and purple (especially lilac). Also currently enjoying the yellow-green of the new leaves that are appearing at this time of year!

Currently watching: wrestling, surprise surprise. I'm just about keeping up with AEW and completely failing to keep up with NJPW. Other than that, I've not really been in a big TV/film mood recently. Although I did see Dune Part 2 the other week, which I thought was fantastic. My partner and I have also become slightly addicted to watching Gab Smolders play Nancy Drew games on YouTube.

Spicy/savoury/sweet/(sour)/(salty)/[umami]: since @sycamoretrees set a precedent of adding options, I'm going to go with another write-in candidate: my beloved umami. I am a Marmite fiend and will eat just about anything if it has soy sauce/miso/strong cheese etc in it. I enjoy pretty much all of the above tastes though, especially when combined in interesting ways. If I had to choose between the original options, I probably lean towards savoury; I have extremely strong opinions on crisps.

Relationship status: I've been with my partner for almost 11 years now :) (While I'm here, go check out her fantastic art and tabletop RPG writing at @mortphilippa! Obviously I'm biased, but she's super talented!)

Obsessions:

Too many to mention them all, but here's a selection:

Wrestling (of course): as well as my usual AEW & NJPW, I've watched some CMLL recently, which has been fun. I also recently reached new levels of nerd by emulating King of Colosseum 2, a Japanese wrestling game from 2004, on PC. It's good! Holds up well!

Tabletop role-playing games – an ever-present obsession for me. I've just wrapped up a 4+ year D&D campaign that I was GMing, which is an odd feeling, but I'm so proud of the story we told together. I'm also currently GMing/writing stuff for Cy_Borg, Liminal Horror and Brindlewood Bay, among others! There are tons more I want to run though – too many games, not enough time! (I am always up for conversations about TTRPGs by the way – I could talk forever about them! Hit me up if you wanna chat!)

Puzzle games: more of a recent obsession. I continue to do the Wordle every day, but I've recently been enjoying Connections (sorting words into categories), Heardle Decades (identifying songs from the intros), and Squeezy (a weird game about fitting letters into other words). I'm also going through a bit of a point-and-click adventure phase. Really enjoying Unavowed by Dave Gilbert currently. I'm not usually an urban fantasy fan, so it's a testament to how good the writing is that I'm loving it as much as I am.

Spring flowers: spring has well and truly sprung here in the UK, and I am loving all of the flowers that are popping up everywhere! There's nothing that brings me joy quite like going for a walk and doing some plant-spotting (I'm trying to get better at identifying plants this year! I'm mostly reliant on Google Lens and a bit of inherited knowledge from my Grandma currently)

Oops, that was A Lot! Enough about me. Time to tag some other people! (Only if you feel like it though! Absolutely zero pressure)

IRL friends (I know you all very well already, but I always love hearing what you're up to 💙): @thewaythroughthewoods, @thepenultimaterolo and @mortphilippa (and @unpairedbracket if you fancy it!)

Some Tumblr people wot seem cool (sorry if we've not interacted much – I've not been on Tumblr a lot recently and I'm bad at starting conversations!): @norfkid, @sybilius, @dansedan, @unlikelywrestlingfan, @punkrockpariah

#about me #tag game

[bullet-prooflove]

Giving Back: Michael 'Riz' Ariza x Reader

Tagging: @anime-weeb-4-life, @danzer8705 @mysoulisasunflower @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @sxmmarie @briefpersonenemy @creativitybeware @genius2050 @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @oureternalbond

Riz used to get beat a lot when he lived in the orphanage, that was until he learned to hit back. He was five when his mother dropped him off at the shithole in Tijuana. He doesn’t remember the exact event, but he remembers the aftermath. He remembers sitting on the edge of a bed by himself, with a backpack with a book and some of his clothes. He started off as one of the sad kids, but soon he became one of the bad ones. He thinks that’s why he never got adopted.

What they don’t tell you about the orphanages is that you spend a lot of time alone, that quiet you end up sitting in, it gives you a lot of time to think. It makes you wonder why you’re there in the first place, why your mother didn’t want you. You wonder if you’re going to go back, if maybe she’ll change her mind and you cling to that idea month after month, year after year until one day you realise you don’t have that thought anymore, that any hope of that happening has died.

You are the only one who he’s told about his time in that place. Taza and Vicki, they know snippets, but he could never bring himself to tell them the rest. The care system in Mexico is much more unregulated than in the US, anything could happen to a child and there would be no one to give a shit. He knows that stuff like that is still happening now and the knowledge of that cuts deeper than he cares to admit.

His memories of his mother are fleeting. The stroke of her hand over his brow as he fell asleep, an old lullaby he barely remembers the words to. He learned when he’d sought out Vicki, that she had died a couple of years after he’d been left at the orphanage.

His life had started so devoid of love and now it seems so full. He has an aunt that cares for him as if he were her own son, friends who are more like brothers and a woman he loves more than life itself. He knows he’s one of the lucky ones, he didn’t end up an alcoholic or a junkie, he’s not buried in some unmarked grave somewhere, he alive and he is living the life his mother had hoped for when she deposited him that day.

Now he sits in his sparse little garden, nursing a glass of tequila on the patio that took both him and Creeper two days to lay down, because neither of them had a fucking clue how to do it, and had to revert to watching Youtube videos. Angel’s girl had helped him pick a variation of plants that could withstand the climate and would thrive with as little human interaction as possible. The space now has a combination of agave and Cactis. He loves the greenery in his yard, but he’s shit with plants and you’re no better. The two of you are alike in that way, your heads too full of music, you forget about the other stuff. You spend hours of time creating, sometimes you don’t come up for air for days because when a song gets in your head, you have to chase the notes, refining the work over and over and over again until it sounds exactly the way you want it.

“You look deep in thought.” You say, placing a kiss on the top of his head before you take a seat in the patio chair across from him.

He’s been too lost in his memories; he hadn’t even heard you pull up or enter the house. Your perfume lingers on the breeze, the sweet scent of rose with that earthy honeylike undertone. He inhales deeply and finds that it grounds him. It reminds him that he’s back in the present with a woman who loves him, one that would never abandon him.

“Yea.” He says quietly, his dark eyebrows furrowing as he searches for the words to describe what’s happening in his head. He thinks about the orphanage more and more these days, about what he went through, about what other kids went through. His experience isn’t uncommon, it’s not a rare event.

It’s a cycle that feeds into every single country. He thinks it says a lot about the state of humanity at the moment. He sees it every day, especially in this town in the aftermath of the Agra Park’s failure. He can feel the life blood of Santa Padre bleeding out into the depths of the earth, and he knows that his city is dying.

“I don’t want kids.” He says suddenly and you look at him with an expression of surprise because his words aren’t new to you. He’s told you about his vasectomy, about how him and Bishop are ‘ball buddies’ as Coco nicknamed them, and he knows kids aren’t on the cards for you either. Your imploded your marriage because your husband intentionally got you pregnant and you decided to have an abortion. You are steadfast in your belief that the life of a mother just wasn’t the right path for you and he supports that.

“I know.” You say softly, bringing your chair a little closer to his.

There’s a vulnerability in him right now and you sense he needs you close. He’s been lost over the last few days, it started when that kid ran out in front of the car, a child no more than six, in ragged clothes darting from one alley to the next. You think he saw himself in that kid, a glimpse of a past that has left him with a wound that just won’t heal.

“But I want to help, I want to give back.” He tells you resolutely. “The kids in this town are suffering and I don’t want them to go through what I went through, to doubt there’s someone who cares but I don’t know how to help, I don’t…” He breaks off and curses in Spanish because he can’t find the words to describe what he wants; he isn’t even sure himself.

All he knows it that he can’t stand the idea of another child, suffering alone, scared and terrified as they try to make sense of the world around them. There’s an ache in his chest and it feels like something is breaking deep down inside. He’s sad, he’s angry, he's hurt… He wants to be proactive, but he just isn’t sure how.

You take his hands in yours and press them to your lips. The sensation it anchors him, he can feel some of the tension slipping from his shoulders as you meet his rich, whiskey coloured gaze.

“I have a friend who runs the community centre here.” You tell him, pressing the back his hand to your cheek. “She’s just got funding to open up one of those mentor programs, it’s like the Big Brother, Big Sister program but a little different. Your records virtually clean, you only have a couple of misdemeanours. I’m sure they’d love to have you.”

Felonies are the problem when it comes to programs like this. It’s sad because someone like EZ would make a wonderful mentor but the fact he’s been in prison for felony murder ruins that opportunity for him. When you think about it even that sentence sounds wrong to your ears.

“Yea?” Riz questions you. “You think we could speak to her about it?”

“We can drop by tomorrow.” You tell him, releasing his hands so that you can pick up your cell phone and text your friend to ensure she has some time for the two of you.  

“Thank you.” Riz says earnestly when you put your phone back down on the patio table. “It’s hard to explain why I need to do something like this…” He trails off because he knows that he’s not just doing it for these kids, he’s doing it for himself as well.

“You have such a big heart.” You tell him, raising from your seat before setting yourself in his lap. His arms wrap around you, drawing you close against his body as he cuddles you close. He needs the proximity right now, needs to know that there’s someone who loves him and understands him. “And I know you want to do everything in your power to give these children a fighting chance.”

“I love how much you get me.” He tells you, his lips brushing over your jawline. “I don’t know what I would do without you in my life.”

“Don’t worry pretty boy.” You reassure him, your fingers threading through his silky hair as his mouth grazes over that delicious little spot at just under the hinge of your jaw. “You won’t ever have to find out.”

Love Riz? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#michael riz ariza #riz ariza #riz x reader #riz x you #riz mayans #michael ariza #michael riz ariza x reader #michael ariza x reader

[mistyfoxxy]

Since I haven’t done crap for you guys in weeks. Here’s a short huntlow Drabble.

Just fluff tho. No angst this time, promise!

.

.

Hunter stared up at the falling snow. He’d seen it plenty of times when he’s go to the knee and stuff. He knew what it was. It was nothing new to him.

And even on the human realm it seemed to be the same. Hmm. Maybe only the rain and plants and beasts and major population was different.

But apparently someone out of their fateful group of friends hadn’t been there before.

“Oh my titan! It’s so cold!” The plant witch giggled merrily. She was graced with a larger than average white coat that made her look endearingly like a large snowball. She wore a yellow scarf and green earmuffs. Black boots and lights to go with it.

But that wasn’t what had him staring. Aside of the obvious contagious and lovely laughter as well as occasional snorts, her round cheeks and nose turned red. Especially her nose. It was so cute.

Titan he was starting to feel cheesy the more and more he hung out with Luz.

But he couldn’t help himself.

She looked adorable.

*splat* Hunter gasped in shock and discomfort at the sudden smashing snow that was thrown in his face.

“Hey!”

Those melodic giggles. “Sorry! You seemed so lost in thought, had to make sure your reflexes worked. Apparently they don’t.” Willow cooed triumphantly. A challenging glare in her eyes.

Oh it was on.

She laughed and ran as he chase her. A large scoop of that frozen fluffy water melted a little between his warm gloves, causing slight discomfort but that didn’t stop him.

He chased her around the yard relentlessly, gasping when she tripped eighth in front of him.

-his reflexes weren’t fast enough to stop himself from tripping and falling after her.

A soft *oof* was heard and Hunter shook his head. He hadn’t expected the snow to be this warm.

He opened his eyes.

“Oh titan I’m sorry!”

Hunter tried to pull away and get off of the plant witch, but she gripped his shoulders in place, he couldn’t move.

Out of shock and confusion- and well. Her death but gentle grip.

She smiled up at him in the most fond way possible. He could see every individual eyelash, that’s how close he was. Her red nose and pink freckles cheeks. And her eyes. Oh titan, were they always that close in color to peridots?

He felt himself continuing to heat up as she shifted a little under him. One hand leaving his shoulder to he didn’t know where, and the other reaching towards his face.

“Oops.” She replied. Her face seemed to be getting closer to his, or was he moving? Was she? His eyes flashed to her perfectly shaped lips and back to her eyes.

She her lips quirked up in a fond smile, though something mischievous lurked in her eyes.

*plop*

“Oh titan! That’s cold.” Hunter whined as a scoop of snow was smooshed into his air.

Willow threw her head back. Letting his face go and grabbing more snow from around her. So that’s where her other hand went!

“Oh no you don’t!” He laughed in a barked challenge sort of way. He reached behind her head and plucked his hands into the thick snow. Pulling it inwards, causing the plant witch to squirm and laugh and snort and protest. Soon her face was surrounded by snow and she shook her head in laughter, trying to free herself as she pushed Hunters arms away from the snow and off her.

This only encouraged him more. Using his position to his advantage and grabbing more snow from around them.

“Nooooo!” She giggled violently.

Hunter started to laugh some more before he was pulled back down, her hands gripping behind his ears and his lips crashed into hers.

She kissed him sweetly and fervently.

If she had wanted him to stop covering her with snow, and this was her way of doing so? It definitely worked.

Hunter was shocked at first. The foreign feeling that shot electricity through him at even the softest touch. They were kissing! Titan, she kissed him! And boy was he melting.

She then pushed him away from her slightly, her hands gripping his face had let up and her face was now redder than it had ever been.

She quickly used her weight and threw him off her before running towards the house. “Eep! I’m sorry!”

Hunter was left shocked, in shock, laying against the cold ground now. That was. That was amazing. He wanted to do it again.

But wait. Where did she go?

#huntlow #willow park #the owl house #my stuff #huntlow oneshot #huntlow Drabble #hunter noceda

[ehlnofay]

immediate follow-up to this piece

Well, it was definitely a dragon.

Efri can be certain of that as they get closer. She can see the fires from ages away. She can smell the smoke. What else could have done that kind of damage?

(Well, the war, probably, but that’s still far away, and anyway, soldiers don’t shake the sky.)

It was definitely a dragon.

The sabre cat stops some ways away from the town, kneels down, shakes Efri gently off their neck like she’s a little bug. She holds tight to her stick and looks at them.

“Thank you,” she says, still quiet. Hesitates. It’s probably not safe for them to be around town – sabre cats are dangerous, everyone says, the guards might get scared and shoot at them – but Efri doesn’t know what she’ll find (she’s still avoiding looking directly at it all) and she doesn’t want to be left alone. She asks, “Can you stay? Near?” Everyone’s probably preoccupied with – all of that. They won’t have time or energy for hunting down sabre cats.

Her friend nods, heavy and sombre, and slinks a bit away to sit in the long grass, nose pointed toward Rorikstead. Efri feels a little stronger knowing that they’re going to be there if she needs them; she plants her stick firmly on the ground and turns around. Takes a deep breath. (It smells of smoke.)

She strides towards the buildings.

As she gets closer, she can hear talking. Shouting. It’s not like Helgen, at least, everything destroyed – there’s still plenty of people to shout and be worried. She grips her stick harder and breaks into a wrong-footed run, her one shoeless foot kicking awkwardly into the dust. She gets closer, closer – the smoke hangs in the air, here, thick and heavy, like a curtain she’s trying to get through – and slips between two houses – the houses look fine – and then she’s on the main street.

It's teeming.

There’s a fire in the house across the way. A lot of people are there with buckets, running to and from the well, and it’s really not the time for it, but Efri’s thinking of Onmund and the circles of frost she’d sometimes find in the grass when the sun was hot and everything else was dry. That kind of power would be really useful now. She wonders if they even would’ve accepted his help.

She turns away from the house on fire and down towards her own home. There’s not much she can do here.

As she walks down the street she grows less and less optimistic.

The inn is still standing, though sooty, and crowded with people; she can see everyone she vaguely recognises crammed onto the porch. The blacksmith she tried to get to make her a sword, the cobbler she got her shoes from, the woman who sells pretty scarves on market days. She peeks through the window and sees Erik and Mralki running around inside. Mralki’s talking to several people very animatedly. There’s a table of people looking quite burned and ill, two of them lying on their backs on the floor, and Erik is ladling them all stew.

Past the inn it starts to look bad.

Reldith’s chicken coop is burned to a husk. Efri can see all the dead chooks strewn about the yard. The crops in all the farmland are ruined, the ground ashy. The next house is just a shell.

Efri reaches her own, and, oh.

It’s not fully burned out, she supposes. Just a lot. Just mostly, maybe. More than half. The eastern wall is standing, just about, though it looks brittle, like the wind could knock it down. The west half of the house is a charred mess. She can’t even make anything out – the walls and roof have collapsed.

Oh. Well.

She doesn’t really know what to feel. She never liked this house. She never liked living here. But it’s all her stuff, where she grew up, with her parents and her brother. It’s still hers. She’s not sure. She should be upset – crying and screaming like she was before – but she doesn’t really feel anything. If she’s not feeling upset she should be relieved, or something, anything, but it’s just –

Her house burned down. That’s just the truth. It’s just the way things are. She isn’t as sad about it as she should be. Why isn’t she feeling sad about it?

Sissel’s house, next to hers, is totally wrecked.

Efri leaves them both and walks back up the road.

Things are just things. Maybe if she finds the people she’ll feel something. Maybe if something bad happened to the people, she’ll be as upset as she knows she’s supposed to be.

She goes back up to the inn and stares hard through the windows. That’s Sissel’s dad talking to Mralki – and that’s Sissel’s sister, leg bandaged with bloody cloth, sitting at the table being served stew.

Efri leaves. If they’re at the inn then Sissel won’t be.

Rorikstead seems bigger, now, somehow. Maybe it’s the unfamiliarity of it. She passes that same burning house, and then three more that have already gone down. Everyone’s house looks a bit burned – charred thatching, fallen-down chimney, a hole in the wall. Nowhere is unscathed.

Efri wants to call out but her throat is still aching. There’s so many people yelling in the street besides, no-one would hear her.

She finds Sissel sitting, blank-faced and hunched up, with her back to the fence outside Rorik’s place, out of sight of the road.

She taps her stick on the ground to make her look up.

Sissel looks up at her. “Efri,” she says, “Efri, Efri,” but when Efri asks what happened she won’t say anything, just staring with flat eyes, so Efri sits down next to her and lays the stick across both of their laps and waits.

The faint crackling sound floats to them on the wind. Every breath they take is singed with soot.

Finally, when the sun is mostly sunk behind the mountain, Sissel speaks.

“It came out the hill,” she whispers, voice raspy, still looking straight ahead. “They said it came over but I know it came out.”

“What happened?” Efri asks.

“Hid under Heimrik’s porch,” Sissel mumbles, curling her fingers around the stick so tight Efri worries she’ll get splinters. (Then stops worrying. It’s not something worth worrying about right now.) “Stone house. It was screaming. Britte was in the house when it came. Almost got crushed. Efri.”

Efri takes hold of her hand.

“Efri. My house is gone.”

“I know. Mine too.”

“I don’t even like my house,” Sissel says with a vehemence, and there are tears brimming in her eyes but not spilling over.

“I know,” Efri says. “Me too.”

“Jouane got hurt,” and Sissel’s letting go of the stick so she can knuckle at her eyes, her nails still cutting into the back of Efri’s hand. “Efri, I saw him on the road, there was so much blood –”

She’s not crying, biting out the words, dress covered in dirt. Efri squeezes her hand as hard as she can.

“What if he dies?” Sissel says, and Efri starts, because normally she’s the bold one but she hasn’t been able to even think that word and here Sissel is almost yelling it. “What if – I can’t, if he can’t teach me, if he’s not here, Efri. If he’s not here, what do I do? What if he’s already dead? What do I do?”

Efri has to say, “I don’t know.”

Sissel’s still not crying but her face is red and splotchy and she looks, at this moment, less like a person and more like the bloodied rabbit Efri found hiding under a tree once. She looks like something’s just tried to eat her and she got away, but not before it managed to rip out something that she needs. She looks like a little animal covered in its own blood and quivering in the shade, nowhere to go next that would make it any safer.

But her teeth are gritted and she looks more fox than rabbit, Efri thinks. She looks ready to bite back.

“My father,” Sissel says, and screws her face up. “I can’t – if I can’t learn, I can’t stay here, I can’t, I can’t –”

They can’t stay here. What to stay for?

“Sissel,” Efri says. In her haste, the words run into each other, bleeding together like dirt in water. “Did you see my parents?”

Sissel shakes herself. “I think so. When I was coming out of the porch. They were with everyone running in from the farms.”

“Okay,” Efri says, and then, “okay,” and then, “okay.” She turns her whole body so she’s facing Sissel directly. “Let’s go.”

There’s dirt on Sissel’s chin. She says, “What?”

“We don’t have a house. Our things are gone. I know we weren’t going to leave yet, but what are we waiting for?”

“We can’t.” This feels much more comfortable: Efri with an outlandish idea and Sissel trying to talk her down. “We don’t have any food or money or anything, we wouldn’t be able to manage!”

“I have a striking-stone in my pocket,” Efri says, “and I think my brooches could be used for hacksilver, and Sissel, trust me. We can go to Winterhold!”

Sissel’s still holding tight to her hands. “We can’t go to Winterhold by ourselves, Efri –”

“Not by ourselves!” Efri tells her. She’s got so much energy all of a sudden; the words scramble together like eggs in a pan. “I have a friend who can help, I’m pretty sure they want to go to Winterhold, they seem excited whenever I mention it –”

“Efri,” Sissel says, squeezing both her hands, “we can’t go to Winterhold. It’s too far, we don’t have enough money, I only have one dress and you don’t even have both your shoes –”

“We can’t stay here. Not now.” Sissel obviously agrees – she always has. “We can’t keep doing this, especially not without a house, nowhere to go. If Jouane – if he dies – do you think he will?”

It’s not the most sensitive thing to say. Sissel looks like she’s been punched in the gut. “I don’t know,” she says, and then, shuddering, “it was a lot of blood.”

“He wouldn’t want you to wait around,” Efri insists. “He wants you to go off and be great and stop being scared, he said. He did,” she adds when Sissel looks disbelieving. “He loves you, Sissel, he thinks you’re so bright, he said you’re a prodigy. He doesn’t want you to be scared.”

Sissel’s face crumples.

“We can just leave,” Efri repeats. It’s always been true, and it isn’t like there’s a time limit on it, but it feels important. It feels like it has to be now. “What’s keeping us here?”

Sissel holds tight to her hands.

“Okay,” she says. They stand. “Okay.” They stand, facing each other in the last of the dying light, for a bit, until Sissel presses her lips together and says, “What friend? That can take us to Winterhold? Who do you mean?”

Efri grins, and it’s not quite right but it’s there. She starts walking, pulling on their joined hands, and this feels right – this is the same as always, Efri marching ahead, Sissel along for the ride. “I’ll show you,” she promises. “Just don’t scream.”

#children make normal decisions in times of stress #(though in their defence this was a long time coming) #there. the second of pieces pertaining to this Inciting Incident is posted. only one or two to go #my writing #fay writes #microfic #skyrim #the elder scrolls #rorikstead #oc tag #efri #sissel

[itwoodbeprefect]

Re the tag game: H50, all of them #25? Also I'm not sure if I'm allowed to ask twice but I wouldn't object to hearing more about Our Mr. Wilson!

thank you for your mercy in crossing out “all of them”, because i think i’d have to skip sleep tonight to get that done. :p but two is absolutely okay!

-

Danny Williams and the Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Neighborhood Barbecue

this is a recent addition to the WIP pile! it’s a post-canon fic in which (obviously) danny still lives with steve, when he discovers that steve barely knows his neighbors. so they throw a barbecue to get to know them better, and then (also obviously) it turns out that all their neighbors think they're a couple. everyone keeps making nice comments to danny about it (“how did you meet?” “your boyfriend is good at the grill, but your pasta salad is my favorite!” “oh, i'm glad to see you finally took the step and moved in - i used to see your car here all the time.” “you guys have adorable kids!” etc.) and danny keeps having to explain that yes, they’re partners, yes, they live together, yes, steve is basically raising his kids with him, but not like that, while every new neighbor he meets has the wrong idea all over again and steve seems oddly chill about it. cue eventual confrontation in the privacy of their kitchen, of course, where danny figures out that maybe steve is chill about it for a reason.

these are the first four paragraphs:

The worst of it is that it’s his own fault, and nobody else’s. While walking Eddie down the street, more to stretch his own legs than because the dog needs any more outdoor time considering all the people it lives with that go for daily jogs (which is two, but that’s plenty), Danny sees the neighbor from three doors down watering plants in her front yard. He stops for a friendly little chat, the way people sometimes do if they’ve been decently socialized through the virtue of having an upbringing in which none of their parents faked their death.

When he and Eddie get back home, he crosses paths with Steve in the kitchen, and when he tells Steve he just talked to Mrs. Hernandez about flowers that look pretty but don’t require too much upkeep, Steve says, “Who?”

Which is how Danny learns that Steve, a man who has lived in this very house for most of the years he’s been alive and also loves not only prying into other people’s business but having all of the facts in every possible situation, doesn’t know most of his own neighbors’ names. “How is that even possible?” Danny asks, at the end of a little rant about how stupid that is, which Steve bears alternately with patience and mildly hurt personal pride. “How have you never once thrown a big barbecue to at least know who’s supposed to be walking around on your street?”

“Huh,” Steve says, like he’s pleasantly surprised by the practicality of that suggestion. Danny is fully ready to take that the wrong way and rant a little more, when Steve cuts him off by pulling a notepad and a pen from a kitchen drawer and asking, “Can you make that macaroni salad you do, but bigger?”

-

Our Dear Mr. Wilson’s Guide To Becoming A Successful Contributing Member Of A Team Of Internationally Renowned High-Tech Do-Gooder Criminals

ooh, i’ve had a lot of fun with this one so far! but it’s also specifically early season 1 leverage redemption fic, so it’s fallen by the wayside a bit after it didn’t get finished fast enough and canon had moved past the point where this idea was immediately relevant. it’s essentially a harry POV numbered list describing what (not) to do when dealing with the leverage team - stuff like don’t anger the guy who used to be a hitman (but definitely don’t anger any of the others, because that’s worse), avoid any performance of sophie’s that’s not related to a con, don’t get between breanna and gummy bears.

here’s a chunk of “don’t try to ask which of your new partners in crime are partners with which other partners in crime”:

“So what’s the deal with Hardison and Parker?”

“What deal?”

“Nothing. Just, I get the impression that you and Parker…”

Eliot does not take the obvious invitation to fill in the gap. He just raises his eyebrows, at once vaguely threatening and threateningly vague.

Harry soldiers on. “And when Hardison was still here, it seemed like you and him were also- Also close.”

Eliot rumbles. It’s unclear if it’s in agreement. “Why? Are you trying to figure out if I’m single? I’m being hit on. Is that what’s happening here?”

Not only can Harry not figure out if Eliot is serious or not, he’s also completely unsure if that undertone of a growl is base level grump, an expression of mutual interest, or rising homicidal rage. Harry smiles. “Never mind,” he says, and beats a hasty retreat.

-

send me the title of one of my WIPs and i'll tell you something about it or post a snippet!

#thank you for playing!! 🎉 #leverage #h50 #*

[proudfreakmetarusonniku]

some small pieces of au writing I did on the Reddit! c!prime horror stuff under the read more if ur not in the mood for that

—

“You named him Henry?”

Tommy pouted, throwing his arms around the feathered, massive beast that had taken up the majority of his yard. “Well, he looks like a Henry, doesn’t he? And he needs a name. Don’t be a bitch, Tubbo.”

“That’s a dragon.”

“Duh. I have eyes.”

“Tommy, that’s an adult dragon! A wild one, too.” Tubbo rubbed at the base on his horns, anxiously. “You know you can’t tame them when they’ve been wild that long. Just go get a baby like a normal person, or you’ll get eaten.”

Henry affectionately butted his head against Tommy. “Well, he seems to like me just fine. I think it’s a skill issue,” Tommy said flippantly, childishly sticking out his tongue.

—

The night was cool, and soft rains mixed with the dirt outside to make a peculiar smell. It still brought back unpleasant memories, but Tommy could rinse them from his mind easier now. He still had to change the bird feed, and check the cows, and plant some of the seeds on his new plot of land. Always having something to do, Puffy said, could help keep his mind off of things. It had been- Prime, eight years or so since he last saw her, it must have been, but her advice still rang true.

The wheat-field shone golden, the moon bright tonight. Tommy didn’t have the slightest cut of gold to his name here, but the wheat was a close enough substitute he could wake every day with a smile. His back ached and his hands were rough with bruises, but they were from something he loved, and not someone who he thought loved him. The pain was nothing, really.

And even if at night he slept with a sword close to his chest, this was coping, right? He was coping. He might not know where he was, but he knew he was safe on Big Man Ranch. The cows were soft and the chickens bit his fingers and the apples tasted slightly like dirt and every day a visitor came by.

Tommy imagined this must be what heaven was like. —

The first breaths of freedom Tommy took were of soot and ash.

For the first time, he silently thanked the world he wasn’t human, rubbing his exposed wiring absently, before breaking out into a run through neon streets, hiding under awnings and in corners to avoid the rain. His outer coating was waterproof- well enough he could swim, he saw it stated on the cheerful advertisements for companion ‘bots he spent too long looking at whenever he crossed them. He wasn’t exactly sure where anyone in this hellish maze of apartment buildings and factories would keep a pool of water, corrugated shacks housing sleeping people along the way far too common. Who could even afford him? The advertisements felt more like some sick joke for people living like this.

Or, hell, maybe the idea of owning a ‘bot kept them going through their miserable lives. He saw the dead eyed stare of everyone he passed, too busy doing something or other, work probably, to even take a good glance at his face. If anyone realised he was a T0M-3 out on the streets without an owner, he'd have been shut down and sent back to that gilded cage of a penthouse in seconds.

That was a second thing he never expected to thank the world for. Capitalism.

—

Tommy growled at the masked man, glancing up at him and staring daggers through him. “I'm not fighting in that fucking ring like a dog, you hear me?”

A painful, ringing sensation throbbed through the heavy steel of his collar, and vaguely, Tommy recognised the stench of magic before it glowed a bright green and agony flowed through him, leaving him shaking like a leaf. He bit his tongue, trying to prevent that bastard from hearing the satisfaction of him screaming, but he couldn’t stop the tears leaking out of his eyes.”

“I spent a lot of money on you, princeling,” the fucking bastard prick said, sounding almost bored, “and if you’re not going to pull your worth I might as well have you executed here and now. And I promise, it won’t be quick. Stop acting like a baby.”

“W-what, and die fighting fucking tooth and nail for your amusement?”

“I'd be a terrible investor if I let someone like you die, y’know. Stop acting like a little kid. I tried to be nice, don't make me regret that.” The threat in those last words made Tommy shudder. He knew stories of the mages overseas, the horrors they could inflict. He was determined, not stupid, and only marginally suicidal.

“Y-yes, sir.”

“C'mon, kid, no need to be so formal! Don’t think of me like an owner, more like… I’m taking care of you!” Patronisingly, the masked dickhead pet his head like he was a fucking dog. “Just Dream is fine, Tommy.” —

Tommy paced the walls of the cell, eyes darting back and forth, seemingly lost in his own head. It was far more comfortable than originally designed, Dream noticed idly- a fluffy rug placed hap-hazardly onto the obsidian floor, blankets piled onto the bed, stuffed toys that seemed to be years old, an old television and console against the wall. Sam really had gone soft, he supposed.

“Tommy?” He kept his voice gentle, soft. More to see how he reacted, if anything. He was curious.

Tommy turned to him, blue eyes wild and hair as unkempt as always, and beamed. “You came to visit! I knew you would, I knew someone would. I mean, you didn’t - you were just trying to help me, you wouldn’t get me locked up on purpose, you just wanted to help.” He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than anyone else.

It was impressive how naïve he still managed to be. The boy-king of the SMP, one would have thought that rulership would have hardened him, but it just turned him into an anxious shell. Not that Dream was complaining- he'd been able to control him like a puppet, and get him locked away once he was no longer necessary, and then the world was his.

But he did care for the boy, in his own way. Anyone else who destroyed L'Manberg- his first ticket to power, though to be sentimental he'd call it Wilbur's legacy or something- would be in a pine box at this point, but Dream couldn’t deny he appreciated the desperate devotion he got from the alleged leader, hanging onto his every word, desperate for a friend.

If he was to admit one thing to himself, it’d be that Tommy was really his only friend too.

—

Dream was a good patriarch.

Everyone always smiled when he was around, and talked cheerfully about how happy they were now. (He studiously avoided the wandering eyes, the slight strain to their grins. It wasn’t ignorance if you pretended.) He had everyone assigned to the jobs they loved and were best at, and gave them a warm place to sleep. (He avoided the sobbing when he walked past their rooms at night, how he had to lock and double lock them and still had to paint over scratch marks on the doors).

Life wasn't all work, of course though. He organised fun activities for his people, games and festivals, gave ample gifts, free time, everything someone would want. (And the walls keeping them in loomed large, and those who got too close… well, he had to give them a reboot.) He spent hours talking to his subjects- his siblings, and they never had a bad word to say about anything. (And the few times they got too close, he made sure to punish them.)

(And, sure, maybe Tommy still screamed and shouted and begged and cried, but that was Tommy.He just wanted something to be upset about, and he just wanted attention. And the reason Dream always kept close watch over him, never left him leave his side, was discipline, and not loneliness. He didn’t feel dissatisfied with fake praise and forced smiles. He didn’t.)

He had his big happy family. (At least, he could pretend he did.) —

“Oi, don’t pull at my halo, dickhead, that hurts!”

The boy pulled away from Dream's claws, whimpering, but the slack of the chains barely allowed him to move an inch. He tried to pull his wings over himself protectively, straining at the restraints hard enough that droplets of ichor leaked from the wounds that formed.

“Now, what am I going to do with you?” Dream hummed, ignoring the defiance of the child- good, that was a good sign. He'd Fall soon enough if he kept that up, and there was always a need for more pawns. On the other hand, just imagine the respect he'd get for keeping a proper angel bound in chains, and it’s not like the heavens would even care enough to take back such a young one.

Decisions, decisions.

“Fuck off! Fuck you! I'm- Wilbur is looking for me, bitch! And he'll smite the shit out of you, just you wait!”

“I'm sure he will, kid,” Dream said with a smirk, before pulling hard at one of Tommy's chains, shutting up his whining with the sudden pain. “But since it seems like you'll be here a while longer, are you going to tell me your name or not.”

“Haven’t earned one yet, prick,” he huffed. “But you can call me Tommy. Everyone else does.”

Tommy. Hmm, that definitely suited his strange captive. He just looked like a Tommy.

This was going to be fun. —

Tommy had lived his life on the seas as long as he could remember. The feeling of grass beneath his feet was foreign, a pistol between his fingers like breathing. Yet, he'd never met anything as terrifying as Captain Dream.

He'd thought it a legend- a ghostly-green ship sailing the stormy seas with a captain with a mask for a face- but if it was a dream, he sure as fuck had slept long enough Quackity would have had him keelhauled by now. Or at the very least mildly drowned. He could feel the weight of the eyes of the masked man from behind the simple, wooden mask, carved with a simple smile. He wasn’t sure why him, of all captives, or if that was good, but it petrified the shit out of him.

“That’s the one from Quackity's crew, you say?” His voice is mild, curious. Almost kind.

“Y-yes, sir-“

“I'll be keeping that one, then. They'll want him back, if he’s of any use, and I can use that. Throw the rest overboard. They’re useless.”

Tommy gaped in horror at the idea of his fellow captives all dying just like that. Not all of them were even fellow pirates- some were just civilians in the wrong place at the wrong time. “You-you can’t just do that!” he said, shocked.

Dream laughed. “You better learn quickly you can’t tell me what to do, boy, or you'll be a corpse by the time your precious Captain comes knocking.”

[desiredcaramellatte]

No one asked for it but I’m giving it to you anways.

Because I need Cotton Cookie stuffs!

Feel free to request as well, my requests are open! I can do headcannons as well as oneshots!

Cotton Cookie Oneshot

PLATONIC!

Child (teen?) Cotton x Parental figure reader

A snowy day’s warmth

Day or night, the village is always covered in snow.

The problem is, today it was a snowSTORM. Or was it today, even? You had little way of telling if it was day or night, so you could take your best guess. Either way, the snow showed absolutely no sign of letting up.

But, then again, that did mean you could spend more time with your beloved little child.

But, right now, as you trek through the snow and heavy wind, you’re starting to wish that you could spend time with her INSIDE the house.

Cotton Cookie had insisted on bringing the sheep in, which you had no quarrel with (they were very tame and sweet, and, though maybe a bit mischievous, they knew better than to trash the house), but you did worry about her going out into a snowstorm alone. You might have tried to tell her to stay in. She was generally a well behaved kid, after all, but she could be a bit stubborn, at times. Especially when it came to the wellbeing of her sheep.

So here you were, practically herding three sheep and a child to the house from the small barn just a few yards away from your residence.

But even a few yards could seem like half a mile, when there was wind constantly pressing against your face.

Cotton Cookie was on your other side, her hand in yours, as she held out her lantern as to see through the seemingly infinite snow falling down. You took a few steps ahead, and opened the door, to which you shooed Cotton Cookie and her sheep into the house, and you followed.

Only when the door was closed, and you could no longer hear the wind howling in your ears, did you give a relaxed sigh. You took off the heavy-layered coat on your shoulders, to be greeted by Cotton Cookie wrapping her arms around you in a hug.

“Thanks for the help, [mom/dad/parent]” She said, releasing you.

“Of course..” You said tiredly, and you watched as the pale cookie hung her lantern up on a small hook on the wall.

You gave a yawn, before turning to walk through the small, cozy home, which was more of a cottage. Cotton Cookie didn’t need a fancy home, she was happy with a small, cozy place, and you were happy to see her smile.

“Oh, come on now, you’re in my spot!” You gently huffed at one of the sheep, who gave you an innocent look and a small wiggle of it’s tail. “Baaa?” It questioned.

You sighed, giving it a small pet on the head, to which it nuzzled against your hand. You gently pick it up, moving the sheep over, and sat down. The sheep, though, decided that your spot was now it’s spot, and trotted back over, climbing in your lap, and laying there.

“Aww, how could you get mad at something so adorable?” You heard Cotton Cookie giggle as she sat down next to you, reaching over to scratch her sheep behind the ears.

“I can certainly try to.”

The other two sheep practically galloped over, getting jealous of all the attention that their fluffy brethren was receiving.

Cotton Cookie scooted over to you, her side against yours. Her fluffy coat was warm against you, practically warmer than the bundle of wool the was very much enjoying itself laying in your lap.

The two other sheep jumped upon the couch from the extra room Cotton Cookie had made, one planting itself in her lap, and the other climbed over, plopping itself smack-dab in between the two of you with a satisfied baa.

Both of you smiled, and Cotton Cookie pressed against you and her sheep, her eyes closing, as you watched her drift off to sleep. Maybe you were a little tired, too.

#Cotton Cookie x Reader #Platonic #Cookie Run x Reader #Cookie Run Kingdom x Reader #Cookie Run #Cookie Run Kingdom #Crk x Reader #Crk #Cotton Cookie + Reader #Requests Open

[waheelawhisperer]

Bluebonnet, 1+8!

1) What is the character’s go-to drink order? (this one gets into how do they like to be publicly perceived, because there is always some level of theatricality to ordering drinks at a bar/resturant)

Bluebonnet wants to be seen as both tough and fun, so her drinks are as follows:

Whiskey (ideally bourbon), either neat or on the rocks. Sometimes she'll have the in-universe version of a Jack and Coke. Tequila is an acceptable alternative if she's in the mood for hard liquor. She's also fond of beer, but her taste isn't particularly refined (she prefers the in-universe equivalent of Shiner/Lone Star, or maybe Coors/Miller beers or the stuff college kids drink to get drunk on a budget to fancy craft beers).

Bluebonnet doesn't like fruity drinks in general and will turn her nose up at stuff like wine and most cocktails (and juice if she's not drinking alcohol) unless someone else is paying for it. She does like a cold soda on a hot day and coffee in the morning, but she makes her coffee a little sweeter than average. She doesn't want her drinks too sweet, though.

Alternatively, anything someone else buys her, both because it's free and because she's hoping to get more than a drink later on (her hopes remain forever out of reach).

8) Describe the place where they sleep. (ie what does their safe space look like. How much (or how little) care / decoration / personal touch goes into it.)

Bluebonnet's room is always small and a bit messy. She spends so much time out in the field that she doesn't have much interest in luxury or extravagance and doesn't need much space. RWBY Bluebonnet has a small house in Vacuo (she used to live in a crappy apartment, but being a Huntress pays well from what we've seen in the show and she managed to trade up). Her bedroom is on the second floor and contains a lot of her gear, along with dirty clothes all over the place and little mementos from the people she's helped. She doesn't clean it as much as she maybe should, but there are a lot of little personal touches (posters, books, furniture, etc) that make it clear that it's hers.

Arknights Bluebonnet has a slightly larger house set up much the same way, except this one has an actual yard. She likes to garden in her spare time (she's decent with flowers and stuff like that, but can't grow food crops for shit), but she's out working so often that her neighbors take care of her plants more than she does (she responds by hunting down some animal protein for them in return). Her bedroom is similar to RWBY Bluebonnet's, except that the chest full of medals she earned during her military service has pride of place on her dresser.

Once she signs on with Rhodes Island, her dorm room is also a bit of a mess, but she tries harder to keep it clean because someone might see it, so there's at least less dirty underwear on the floor. There is, however, a mini fridge full of beer. This is an essential addition to her living quarters.

Bluebonnet is currently fighting with Kal'tsit to be allowed to repaint her room something that isn't steel gray and losing.

#ask game #bluebonnet mckiernan

[malamiteltd]

Day 6 – Copper's New Home

Hmm. It's missing something. Let's try this… 

—

Sketch and Heather woke up later than usual. They had spent a lot of time the previous day teaching Copper about the typical home environment, along with making some resources to help him understand what certain things say. When they all learned their languages were pretty much the same with different symbols as letters, it made the process go much quicker.

But even Copper seemed to need the extra sleep, as he was still laying on the couch under a quilt. Sketch shook Copper’s shoulder to wake him up.

Copper opened his eyes and looked to Sketch, a little drowsy from sleep. “Hm? Everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine,” Sketch answered. “But I figured I’d ask how you’re feeling. You think you’re ready to live in your own house?”

Copper slowly got up. He seemed a little unsure. “I…I don’t know. Maybe? You did show me how a lot of this stuff works, but even you seemed a little confused about certain things.”

Sketch nodded. “Yeah, there’s some oddities about some of this. Like when I showed you the TV…the things it broadcasts seems completely different all the time, like there’s no schedule being followed even though they mention the programming schedule during commercial breaks.”

Heather walked up to Sketch. “I get the feeling the TV just pulls bits of broadcasts from other worlds, almost like it seems to do with people. There’s no telling what from where you’ll see.”

“It’s a good thing there’s six channels, because some of it I can’t comprehend.” Sketch returned his attention to Copper. “In any case, even with the oddities, most of this seems to be reliable. I think you’ll be fine.”

Copper scratched his head. “I wish I were sure of that.”

“Well, at the very least you should at least take a look at what’s around.” Sketch got Copper on his feet. “I didn’t spend too long in each house, so maybe there’s stuff in one of them that would feel more familiar to you.”

“We’ll come with you,” added Heather, “in case you find something you’re curious or confused about.”

Copper paused a bit to think, but finally nodded. With that, the three left the house to explore the blocks. They only took a few steps before noticing something different.

“Hold on,” Sketch said, looking around. “Is it me, or does this place look a little more colorful?”

Copper noticed the change. “Wait, where did these flowers come from?”

Indeed, the yards of the houses were no longer plain grass, as they have all been modestly decorated with flowers and bushes. Even “The Spot” found itself surrounded with colorful flowers, with a simple grassy path leading to the center.

Heather turned to Sketch. “Do you suppose there’s someone else here that planted all this?”

Sketch shrugged. “I’m not sure. If they did, they must’ve had some good plant food for all of this to fully blossom overnight.”

Copper looked to Sketch. “Should we be worried that this suddenly happened?”

“It’s hard to say. I mean, all we’ve noticed so far are all the new plants. Heaven knows what else might’ve changed.”

Heather scratched her head. “Well, we’re looking for a home for Copper, right? If anything else did indeed change, we’ll probably come across it along the way.”

“That’s true,” Sketch replied. He turned to Copper. “Ready?”

Copper took a deep breath. “Yeah.”

They began to search through some of the houses. The “Granny House” was first. They admired the fancier furnishings, but Copper looked unimpressed.

“Not your style, I suppose,” Sketch said.

“I-it’s a bit much,” Copper replied.

They went next door to the Game House. Copper looked at all the impressive tech and seemed very intimidated. “I don’t know half of what I’m looking at,” he said.

Sketch nodded, staring at an impressive computer. “I’ll admit, I kinda feel the same.” 

They went around the corner to the Square House. Copper kinda liked the look of the place with its simple geometric decorations, but wasn’t sure if it was the best fit for him. “I’ll think about this one,” he said.

It was quite a lot to think about as Copper was escorted to each home. The Poor House, though familiar, seemed too small for him. The Rich House was so fancy Copper was scared to touch any of the furniture. The Rugged House didn’t impress, and even the second “Regular House” didn’t seem right.

Copper noticed they were avoiding a particular house. “What’s with that one over there?”

Sketch looked concerned. “I…wouldn’t recommend it.”

Copper looked at him in confusion. “You don’t think I’d like it?”

“That’s not quite what I mean by that.”

“Let me look, at least.”

Sketch shrugged. “Alright.” They walked up to the front of the house, and Copper opened the door. He was taken aback at the strange sight of a single staircase leading to a pit of darkness spanning the entire floorspace of the house. 

Heather looked in and seemed just as surprised. “You weren’t kidding about this place being ‘The Void,’” she said to Sketch. 

Copper looked into the dark space, trying to spot anything remotely visible, to no success. He became curious, and unconsciously started to walk down the stairs…

Sketch suddenly got chills. “Copper, wait!”

Copper suddenly stopped and turned to Sketch in confusion.

“Please don’t go down there,” Sketch continued. “I’m getting bad vibes from this.”

Copper hesitated, looking back at the darkness. But he eventually returned to Sketch and Heather at the door. “Do you know what’s down there?”

“Not really,” Sketch replied. “But I didn’t even attempt to go down the stairs when I first saw this. It’s strangely unsettling.”

“I agree,” Heather added. “I’m amazed you actually started to go down those steps! You’re braver than I first thought!”

Copper looked away. “Or I could just be stupid. Hard to say, I guess.”

Heather patted Copper’s shoulder. “Aw, don’t be so hard on yourself!”

“Either way,” Sketch interrupted, “You can see why I wasn’t planning to come here for house-hunting. We’ve got some other places to check.”

They arrived at the Plushie House, and Copper was surprised at the decor – the overabundance of stuffed animals. He looked around and seemed more confused with each new room he explored. “It’s…cute, but it seems like a lot…”

Then he stopped. His eyes were fixated on one of the stuffed toys. He looked stunned as he approached the toy and picked it up, studying it from all sides.

Sketch was curious. “Something special about that one?”

Copper turned to him, still shocked. “It’s…it’s a plushie of one of my characters.”

“One of your…characters?”

Copper started to blush. “I’ve been…imagining a story over the years. A little sci-fi action idea I’ve called ‘Mercenaries.’” He held up the toy for the other two to see. “This is Bridgett A. Glacage, one of the main characters. I drew her quite a bit because I thought she was cute, but…I never expected to see a plush of her.”

Sketch and Heather looked to each other with raised eyebrows. “Well, even if you don’t decide to live in this house,” Sketch said, “I don’t see why you can’t take her with you.”

“Sure,” Heather added, “it’s not like there’s anyone around this place that’ll miss it. Still, it’s kinda wild that it’s even here…”

Copper looked at Bridgett’s friendly embroidered smile, and he couldn’t help but smile as well. “We’d better keep looking. I’m lucky to have found Bridgett here, but none of these places feel quite right… I’m sorry to put you guys through all this.”

“It’s fine,” Sketch replied. “I know the environment here is pretty different for you. We’ll figure this out.”

With that, they left for their next destination – the Empty House. They opened the door, and Copper stepped inside, holding Bridgett in one arm. He looked through the house and saw a lot of empty rooms. What few rooms were furnished, there was very little to speak of. A humble kitchen with a table for two, a living room with a couch and a table, and a bedroom with a desk and radio.

“Wait, what is that?” Copper asked, pointing at the radio.

“Oh, wow.” Sketch was a little surprised. “That’s a radio. It’s…kinda like the TV, except it mostly plays music. Not sure if it has the same problem here as the TV though…”

Copper thought for a moment. He looked around by himself once more, before looking out one of the windows. After a little extra time, he nodded his head quietly and walked up to Sketch and Heather.

“I think this is the place,” he said.

Sketch and Heather looked at each other. “You sure?” asked Sketch. “I mean, there isn’t a lot in here–”

“I’m fine with the extra empty space,” Copper replied. “It’s plenty of room to stretch my legs.”

Heather chuckled. “But you’re already the tallest person here!”

Copper smiled. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I’m still kinda surprised this is your choice,” Sketch said. “What is it about this house that made you decide it?”

Copper hesitated to ask, and he started to blush. “Well, it’s not too much to take in…it all feels relatively familiar, with some extra space…but…”

He turned away from the other two.

“It’s…also next door to you guys, so I’ll always know where to find you.”

Sketch and Heather smiled and blushed. They walked up to Copper and hugged him.

“You’ve got friends here, Copper,” said Sketch.

“…I know.”

“You’re a sweetheart,” added Heather.

Copper blushed even harder. He didn’t know what else to say. The embrace lasted a little longer after that.

—

Later that night, when Copper was alone, he made his way to his bed. He lay down and grabbed hold of Bridgett and set her in front of him, posing her head to look at him…

*Wh-who are you?* “asked” Bridgett. (Copper spoke her words in a slightly higher voice.) *You’re not gonna hurt me, are you?*

“Relax, Bridgett, you’ll be fine.”

*How…how do you know my name?*

“…You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

*…Okay. But…where am I?*

“I honestly don’t know that myself either.”

*W-wait, you were dragged here too?*

“Yeah…we appear to be in the same predicament.”

*…Are…are we gonna be okay?*

Copper held Bridgett close and sighed. “I really hope so…” And he soon fell asleep…

#malamite #the blocks #Sketch Tucker #Heather Britannia #Copper #tokaru #teijru #a new home and a new friend kinda

[velvet-paradox]

Between (Part Three)

Fandom: Stranger Things/Marvel AU Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Female reader, Jim Hopper x Joyce Byers, eventual Female reader x Jim Hopper, eventual Jim Hopper x Female Reader x Steve Rogers Summary: the new neighbors next door are really something, huh? Length: Medium Warnings: NSFW 18+ ONLY, ok look... one little idea pops in my head and here we have this mess; take it or leave it (PLS TAKE IT): explicit content, voyeurism, strong language, unprotected P in V, oral (m receiving), . Tagging: @synnersaint @yiiiikesmish

ENJOY!!!

The leaves danced, cascading down to the grass below. He needed to mow the lawn but it was too nice a day to waste walking back and forth so Jim took his coffee outside and enjoyed the breeze before fall had really settled into Hawkins. 

As he sat down and lit a cigarette he overhears Steve talking next door, and a laugh carried through the air. Honeymoon phase was just over the fence. The grass wasn't greener but it sure was light and airy.

"Hey Hop, you got a minute?" Steve was resting his arms on the tops of the brick wall, thick arms crossing as he stood after raising his mug in acknowledgement. 

"Sure thing, what's up?"

"You're good with gardening, yeah? Little lady doesn't know what to do with the backyard, think you could come over and give her some pointers?"

"Uh yeah, no problem." Jim shrugged and met you around back, hands on your hips looking at the dull landscape. Your yards were similar in shape, though Jim had dug around the corners late last June, putting on some Hastas. 

"I've always wanted a garden but apartment living shoots down those sorta dreams," you said, pointing to the back of your house and then to the tree. "What do you think would look good there?”

You looked good there. Jim shook his head, he shouldn't have thought that and yet his mind went there, a flashback of you with your underwear in your mouth, rocking against your husband's face. 

"Uh... you could plant just about anything there. Some Hastas would be nice or some little ferns. Get ya' a nice hedge going along that wall or some lilacs, spruce it up."

"I love lilacs! My aunt used to have them when I was growing up, loved to shove my face in ‘em." You beamed and Steve came around behind you, holding onto your shoulders. 

"So any decisions? Am I gonna have to run around with a cart full of flowers or what?"

"You don't know anything about plants!" Steve kissed the top of your head. "And neither do you," Steve turned to Jim and slapped his arm with the back of his hand. "Hey, why don't you take the wife and you go pick out some stuff.

"Steve took out a thick wad of cash and slipped it into the front pocket of your jeans. He didn't mean to look or stare at the way Steve had ghosted, just for a second over the front and zipper of your crotch as he pulled his hand back.

Without a beat you glanced up at Steve then to Jim.

"If you're not busy of course. Maybe Joyce wants to come."

"Uh yeah sure, I'll ask her." Jim left quickly, getting the he'll out of there without making you two uncomfortable with the flush to his face and neck. 

....

Jim had hoped you two didn't catch the way his eyes had widened, the tightness of his pants or the flush that rose to his skin. Adventurous? More like insatiable! Jim remember how they couldn't keep their hands off each other when he started with Joyce but you two seemed to be on a whole other level, another planet for fucks sake. Jim started to wonder if you two were even aware or didn't care if you got caught. There was a word for that, right?

"I'm no green thumb that's for sure, that's all Hop." Joyce prided over Jim, the two of you aimlessly looking over seated plants as Jim pushed the cart, ferns and flowers poking and swaying as he followed behind. 

"That's sweet. Steve thinks we should hire someone but I don't mind getting my hands dirty. A little dirt never hurt anyone." You loved your arm around Joyce's, stopping to smell some lilies.

"You say that now, wait until you have boys mucking everything up! You should see some of the stains will comes home with, you'd think he was a rugby player!"

"No kids in our horizon," you smiled and pulled Joyce close. "Not to say we aren't careful though, Steve barely has time to pull out most nights."

Jesus. Jim didn't want to think about that, even though he was the same with Joyce. She gripped him like a vice, milked him for all he was worth, left him drained. 

"Do you want kids?"

"If it happens, it happens. Steve is in his prime, you guys should come to his fight next week. See him in action. The last guy couldn't even get up, knocked out cold for a good five minutes!" ....

"So how does this work exactly?" Joyce yelled over the raucous crowd, side stepping along the bench to find your seats. "They just go at it or what?"

"Pretty much," you hollered back. "You could place bets if you want, most suit guys do like them down in front." You pointed down to some corporate looking guys by the squared circle, taking notes and muttering to each other as you all sat down. 

"If you book them why don't you sit down there or at that gate thingy?" 

"I like to be in the action, see and hear people's reactions up close. I may be his wife but the adrenaline from hearing the crowd lose their shit gets me excited." "Has Steve ever lost a fight?" Joyce asked, fidgeting in her seat as the smell of popcorn and beer filled the arena. It was packed. 

Jim had envied Steve as he saw him working out in the yard, doing those fancy push ups that Jim could never picture himself doing. One armed ones too, glistening sweat as you lounged out back, watching and praising him, counting his reps. One evening you were pushing him back down for extra resistance.

"Oh sure! Not often but it does happen. When I book him against Bucky it's up in the air, they've gone to the end of the line for each other. One time Bucky rocked Steve so hard he spit out a tooth, that was a big win for both my guys! Pay out was huge!" 

Huge enough to pay off a whole house in one go, Jim thought. 

And true to your word, the audience went completely wild when Steve Roger's came out in a red and blue trimmed silk robe, his hands taped up with an American flag mouth guard in.

You all stood and cheered, Steve's opponent didn't even last three rounds before the smaller man got knocked to the ground and the ref rushed in to call it. Jim watched as Steve ran around the ring, climbing and sitting on top of the cage. He peered over his gloves and spotted your trio, waving and giving a thumbs up, he pointed and blew a kiss your way.

Another big win.

Bucky slammed a large pitcher of beer on the table after the fight, foam sprinkled on the Jim's hand as he embraced the winner.

"To Rogers! The best fucking guy I know." 

You all raised your glasses and cheered. "I'm with you 'til the end of the line, pal."

"I know. Same for you, Buck." 

"Now don't get sappy on us boys." You chided, fighting Bucky off even he slung you into a headlock like you were an annoying sibling and not his best friends wife. 

"You know that only happens when we hit the hard stuff!" Bucky laughed and let you go, downing a whole pint soon after. Jim could drink, liked to drink but there was in way he'll he could relax his throat like that.

"You a liquor man, Hopper?" Bucky asked, wiping his mouth and leaning on the table while the rest of you sat on cushy bar stools.

"Uh yeah,  sometimes." He shrugged. 

Bucky slapped the table and went to the bartender, ordering shots for the group. Even Joyce indulged in the hard stuff, though she did sweetly plug her nose first. On a high note and buzzing you gave Steve a kiss on the cheek and grabbed Joyce's hand, the music in bar had you bouncing to your feet and dragged her along with you. 

Jim could tell Joyce was buzzed, she didn't dance outside of the kitchen and yet there she was, following your lead as you twirled her around. Jim liked seeing her happy, out if her element but giddy with a new friend. Jim couldn't take his eyes off her as you both swayed to the beat, you were infectious and you knew it. Had this air about you that lured people in like a siren.

"She's hot, right?" Steve leaned over, taking the stool next hum as he drank, watching his own wife dance.

"What?"

"It's alright man, you can look. I know what I got, trust me." Steve smiled, cheeky and on a Hugh if his own after the fight. Bucky drank and shook his head. " Hey man you got lucky too, your old lady looks good too."

Steve looked at Joyce like that? It didn't make I'm mad or jealous but, it didn't make him feel something. 

"She's not what she seems though. Shortcake is bad news, buddy."

Jim frowned and put down his glass, Bucky took it upon himself to refill it. "What do you mean?"

"She's a wild child, I knew the moment I asked her out I was in big fucking trouble. Bucky remembers, don't you buck?"

"Oh yeah. Steve was a mess! A total wreck, took him two weeks to finally ask her out."

"Y/N is a snake, slippery as they come. In a good way though. I wouldn't be surprised if she tried to fuck you and your wife."

"What?"

"She's good when she wants to be. She's a minx, she'll get under your skin in no time. She plays it up, just look at her," Steve pointed with his cup and Jim eyes followed, you had your eyes closed feeling the music as Joyce spun you around with a happy glance over at him. "Truth be told she does what she wants. I don't stop her, who am I to tell her not to have a good time? She's sweet alright, great tits, perfect mouth, tight ass. You should hear some of the shit she says man, pure filth. My wife is disgusting, the shit she has me say and do to her... nudie mags would be pit to shame if they knew what nasty shit Y/N is into."

Jim didn't know what to think of that. He hadn't had a dirty magazine in some years now but he remembered some of the back stories. Strange behaviors,  depraved fantasies and as he looked at you with his sweet vanilla wife, he wasn't sure if Steve was fucking with him or if it was actually true.

....

"Cum inside me. You know you want to." Jim frowned, his hands entangled with yours, so small and soft in his calloused grip. You had replaced whatever it was he was thinking about beforehand, anything else seemed to drown out completely. Just enough space for the two of you. Hopper looked down, his hips thrusting into you, rutting against your backside while he fucked you. Your ankles slipped around his calves, keeping in place, unable to move.

"Come on Hop, show me how froggy you can be. Now fuck me harder." As if out of his body and mind his hips betrayed him, landing into you. You moved your head to the side, looking back him with a sly smile. "You know you want to. You want to fuck me like a whole don't you? Like Steve does. Fuck yes. Steve fucks me so good, really knows his way around my country. Sometimes he fucks my ass too. Do you want to fuck my ass, Hop? So fucking tight, spit on it. Steve does. Steve likes to fuck my mouth too, cum’s all over me and my-"

Jim woke up with a startle, not enough to wake Joyce but enough for him to sweat. He laid back and covered his face with both hands. Jesus. That was wild. Jim hadn’t had a wet dream in ages, fucking ages! He felt guilty, for it not being his wife he was dreaming about, Joyce would never say even an ounce of what you did in his dream. Guilty for mind cheating on her too. And for paling his cocktail under the sheets before waddling to the shower to finish himself off. Shame and cum swirling down the drain.

#jim hopper x joyce byers #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x female reader #jim hopper x reader #female reader #stranger things imagine

[marilynthornhillobsessed]

hey!!!!

i have a request only if your comfortable

reader is 20+ obvs and has a quite a popular social life and marilyn gets jealous and it’s angst and smut (bottom reader)

Aaah, thank you so much for the request. I hope you like it! 🥰

You Are All Mine

tw: smut || jealousy || teacher/student || age gap || overstimulation || semi public sex || mommy kink

Marilyn is not Laurel Gates

Top!Marilyn Thornhill x Bottom!Student!Reader

Words: 3.1k

---

It was getting late and you hurried to get dressed. The party was starting soon and before recently you had your nose still buried deep in one of the projects for Monday.

Sighing you looked yourself over, you wore a yellow hoodie with a denim jacket, loose black pants and your favorite pair of shoes. Feeling a bit self-conscious you bit your lip but there was no time left to change outfits now.

Grabbing your phone and keys you left your dorm room, rushing down the corridors, trying not to look too suspicious in doing so.

It was dark but there were still some students bustling around in the hallways, chatting and a few couples trying to 'secretly' make out without anyone noticing.

You blushed, thinking of Marilyn, you wished you could spend more time with her but you both had to be careful as to not raise any suspicion.

Mentally shaking yourself you continued, you had to pick up pace, you already were late and getting distracted like that would lead to some very specific thoughts. Thoughts you couldn't handle right now. So you pushed on.

As you left the majority of students behind, you started a light jog - of course making sure no teacher saw you - just to cover more ground. Getting outside you took in a deep breath, the night air was crisp and you could smell the petrichor and the musty, earthy smell of the pond that is set in the center of the quad.

Nearly through the grassy area, you felt a cold shiver run down your spine. Not stopping, you looked around but didn't see anyone. Strange, you thought, maybe it was just nerves? Maybe another student? Maybe a killer??? You questioned how smart the decision was to go out to a party in the woods and get drunk…

And you started overthinking, great. Balling your hands into fists you tried to force yourself to think of other stuff, like the rest of the way you still had left. The party was located at a shack, close to Nevermore grounds, so you had to leave Ophelia hall, pass the quad, walk through that shady alley that lead to one of the more discreet exits, trek through the yard and into the forest.

Easy, right? The thought didn't calm you at all but you couldn't refuse your friends… You loved them to bits and you trusted them not to put you into dangerous situations. They wouldn't… right?  

Nearing the alleyway the feeling of dread and being followed got stronger. So you kept your guard up. In hindsight it would have been smarter to go with Yoko when she asked you to, but you didn't. Powering through that shady alley you made it to the exit.

With a semi quiet creak the door opened, you sighed, finally having managed to get out of the academy walls, and without anyone noticing. Good, very good.

"What are you doing?" You jump at the noise, heart racing you spun around in the direction of the noise. Not being prepared to run into anyone. "Aren't you supposed to be working on your project?" Marilyn asks confused, finding it quite suspicious that you are sneaking around the back of the academy at this hour. If you were in her shoes you would, admittedly, also be suspicious of yourself.

"Ms Thornhill," you dragged her name out. "I could ask you the same question." You respond, trying to stall while looking around quickly to make sure no one was there to see you. Feeling reassured not seeing or hearing anyone you let your guard down, attention returning to the older woman. "Marilyn." You breathed out with a soft, fond smile, she looked so cute with the big plant in her arms. Marilyn frowned but responded in kind and smiled warmly back at you, but that smile didn't last long, rather instantly, it was replaced by a stern look as she eyes you up and down in the low moon light.

Pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, she asks, "Where are you going? And why are you all dressed up like that?" Marilyn's brows furrow, "and don't you dare lie to me, young lady." She warned. You started squirming under her meticulous attention. The fact that you were a terrible liar would not help in this situation and you didn't want to lie to her in the first place. It still makes the moment uncomfortable, you know she would get mad at you when you told her but you really wanted to spend some time with your friends and not have her get jealous over it.

Deflating you said "Okay," slouching your shoulders in defeat. "I'm going to a small party. Please don't be mad." Your eyebrows pulled together in nervous anticipation.

Marilyn paused for a moment, trying to reign in her displeasure, she looked at you. "There are rules for a reason you know. Lucky for you I caught you and not Principal Weems." Pushing past you she asked, "Can you help me with this real quick, sweetheart? It's getting heavy." The redhead looked at you expectantly, her expression hard to read but you suspected she was trying very hard to control her jealousy.

Looking suspiciously at her you took a timid step closer. "You are not going to stop me?" Marilyn didn't answer, just held her arms out with the pot in her hands for you to take. Grabbing the big pot you waited for her instructions.

"Don't worry, you don't have to carry it far, I just need to get it into one of the storage closets so I can bring it to Principal Weems tomorrow morning. You know I can't leave things around here without people messing with them." She sighs, you could see her ten yard stare when she remembered a few too many incidences when her plants had been messed with.

Leading the way Marilyn showed you to a medium sized closet, it was filled with crates and the air smelt stale and dusty. Wrinkling your nose you entered the storage room waiting for Marilyn to follow suit. She did but turned around closing and locking the door behind herself before facing you again. Looking at her strangely you chose to ignore her action. "Where do I put the plant?"

"Right there will do, thank you." Marilyn pointed at a lower standing box. You did as you were told and placed the pot gently on the wooden surface. It was heavier than it looked, you were impressed Marilyn even managed to get it this far on her own. Biting your lip you couldn't help but think of your lovers strong arms. When you turned around Marilyn was situated right behind you, staring you down before grabbing a hold of your hoodie and steering you against the nearest wall. With a soft oomph you were pressed against it.

"What are you doing?" You asked, flushing brightly at the situation. Marilyn didn't respond, she just grabbed the underside of your jaw bending your head to the side and started attacking your neck. Your knees nearly gave way under her attention, she knew exactly where your sweet spot was and she mercilessly abused that knowledge.

She was definitely jealous, Marilyn did not have a good time sharing you with your friends. The redhead loved spending time with you and you did too but you had a pretty active social life you had to keep up with. And you had to pick up on your studies because exams were starting soon which gave you even less time to spend with either of them.  

Unable to keep your moans concealed you started gasping, it was getting too much. Squirming you snaked your arms around Marilyn's body threading your right hand through her hair and desperately holding on to her with your left. You loved the feeling of her taut body against yours.

The first time you saw her naked you couldn't believe how in shape she was. Her baggy clothes really did a good job concealing her true form which made you feel even more special knowing exactly how she looked underneath all of them.

Taking a deep breath you could smell her shampoo, it smelt divine as the strong scent filled your lungs. Pulling away from your neck Marilyn released your jaw and cupped your left cheek taking your lips captive with hers, distracting you enough for you to not notice her left hand sneaking under your shirt.

Squeaking you inhaled sharply as you felt Marilyn's cold hand make contact with your stomach, slowly inching its way closer to your chest. You could feel her grin against your lips, she enjoyed making you squirm under her touch.

It was getting harder to stay quiet but you had to, if someone found out, the two of you would be in big trouble. But your mind was slowly but surely starting to fog up. Her caresses and touches were just really hard not to enjoy, especially when she pushed your bra over your chest and started teasing your nipple.

Pulling away from her lips you whimpered, you could feel yourself getting wetter by the second and she seemed determined to keep teasing you. "Marilyn, please…" you pleaded.

"Aww, baby, getting desperate already?" Marilyn cooed, emphasizing her question by squeezing your breast and flicking her thumb over your perked nipple, forcing a whine out of you. "Well who's fault is that, hm?" Unable to keep your head upright you nestled it against her neck grabbing the back of her blue jumpsuit and needily holding onto the fabric. Marilyn used the opportunity to wrap her right arm around your waist, gently stroking your lower back before continuing. "You should have come to visit mommy more often, I could have taken care of you but you seem to be more interested in hanging out with your friends. Do I have to show you what you have been missing out on?"

Nodding eagerly you pulled away from the comfort of her neck. Biting your lower lip you looked at her pleadingly you knew she loved seeing the needy desperation in your eyes. And just as you expected she groaned when your eyes met, hers darkened to an almost black. You squeezed your legs together, you loved seeing her like that, wild and ready to devour you.

"If mommy gives you what you need will you promise to be a good girl and visit more often?" Exhaling shakily you nodded again. "Words baby."

"I promise to be a good girl and visit you more often."

"Good" Marilyn purred, pulling away smiling mischievously, she delighted in seeing you so obedient. Using the hand that teased your nipple she shoved you back against the wall keeping you at arms length. Leaving her palm pressed against your sternum she undid your pants with the other, grinning from ear-to-ear seeing you submit to her.

You shivered at the feeling of her hand stroking along the band of your underwear. Your anticipation growing with each second and Marilyn knew, she knew how much you needed her. Moving your hips you tried stirring her into action, mewling and lightly scratching the back of her neck but she didn't move.

"You have to be a bit more convincing, honey. Show mommy how much you want her." She teased sliding her index finger between the elastic band and your skin, enticingly pulling it while staring at you with hungry eyes.

That alone nearly did you in. With half lidded eyes you released your hold on her neck, dropping your jacket before crossing your arms and pulling the hoodie over your head. With lightly disheveled hair, you continued, now only left with your tank top and bra to go. When you unclasped your bra you made sure to stare Marilyn right in the eyes, seeing how her attention shifted away from your face and lower.

Freed from the gentle restraint of your bra Marilyn lifted her hand from your sternum and tossed the offending garment aside, letting it join the rest of your clothes. "That's better isn't it?" She cooed, gently running her left hand over the newly exposed area of skin. Sighing and nodding you agreed, the air was cold but your body was heated up enough that you barely felt it.

Finally giving in Marilyn slipped her hand between your legs and oh, it felt so much better than you remembered. Maybe it was the thought of being fucked in a more public place than her bedroom, maybe it was the fact you haven't had sex with her in awhile or maybe it was her teasing that drove your body so close to the edge that barely any touch would make you come. You could only speculate as one of her fingers started teasing your entrance. "Fuuck~…" the word involuntarily escaped your lips. Clasping your hand over your mouth you looked apologetically at Marilyn who glared at you and flicked her middle finger over your clit. The muscles in your lower belly tensed, and you jerked forward at the sensation, grabbing onto Marilyn's shoulders.

"You know I don't like it when you curse." Nodding you tried to say something but she didn't let you. Pushing her finger into your wet center she started moving her digit in and out, making sure to brush your clit while doing so. It was a slow and torturing rhythm, it felt good but you wanted, no, you needed more. Following your every move Marilyn kept her eyes on you, watching as you helplessly tried to produce more friction. Rocking your hips, meeting the motions of her hand. Trying to gain some semblance of control in this situation but it still wasn't enough.

When she was jealous she had little mercy for you and really enjoyed driving you crazy until you begged. So you did just that, you begged. "Mommy, please…" You whined, seeing her lips pull into a wicked grin you knew you did the right thing as she added another finger. The added strain made your head fall forwards, you tried pulling Marilyn against you but she still kept you at arms length, making sure you weren't able to do more than hold onto her.

Moving her hand away from your sternum, Marilyn let it glide up your exposed chest, grabbing your throat before forcefully squeezing it and lifting your head to make you look at her. You shivered as your eyes met and she quickly released her strong grip on your windpipe but still held on to your throat. "Keep looking at me baby," she said in a breathy voice, clearly being affected by your noises and reactions.

"Aaahhh~!" You moaned loudly as she dug her short nails into the soft skin of your neck. Trying your best to keep your eyes open as she increased the speed and adjusted the angle of her fingers, pumping them deeper into you.

"Good girl, keep looking at mommy." Marilyn purred, biting her lip while she watched you crumble under her touch.

"Marilyn…!" You groaned, you were so close that a few more rough strokes did you in and a wave of pleasure washed away all the tension you felt building up. It felt exhilarating.

However, she didn't stop. Instantly, your muscles started clenching around her curled fingers. "Oh, did you think we were done, honey?" Adding more pressure to your g-spot, she made you come once again. This time, your vision nearly faded to black as the sensations started to overwhelm you.

"Marilyn, please, I caaahh~ …" You started begging as tears formed in the corners of your eyes, it was too much. "I can't anymore, please~." but her fingers kept working you close to the edge once more.

"Swear you will come visit me more frequently from now on." Marilyn demanded, lowering the hand she had against your chest, causing you to slump forwards into her arms, bringing your bodies closer against each other.

"I swear, please, Marilyn, I swear to visit more frequently..! I'm-, aaahh!" You came with a loud sob, trembling in Marilyn's hold. Taking pity on you, Marilyn finally slowed down.

Breathing heavily, you mewled into the crook of her neck. "Shh, baby, I'm here, mommy's here." Marilyn cooed, hugging you tightly against her, "You did so well, sweetheart." she whispered, placing a soft kiss against your temple, gently pulling her fingers out of you. Being extra careful and making sure not to brush them against your overstimulated clit. Pushing you slightly away from her, Marilyn looked at you, worried, wiping the few stray tears away that started drying on your cheeks. "Are you okay, honey?" she asked, concern lacing her voice, sometimes she lost control of herself and pushed things a bit too far, but you knew you were safe with her.

You nodded tiredly, smiling lovingly at her, you always started feeling warm and cared for when she worried about you. Taking a shaky breath, you tried to stand on your own legs again. Swaying, Marilyn's arms were instantly around your waist to stabilize you.

"Careful. Are you sure you are okay?"

"I am, promise." Assuring her, you cupped her cheeks and kissed her, deepening the kiss when you heard her moan into your mouth. Pulling away, you looked at her sheepishly. "I should probably get cleaned up and dressed again."

Marilyn nodded, giving you a quick peck on the lips before bending down and starting to help you gather your things. She was careful not to use her right hand and get come all over the fabric. Once your garments were handed to you, Marilyn pulled out a bag of wet wipes, cleaning her hand and then handing you the package. You were grateful she had them with her, else you had no other option but to go back to your dorm and get cleaned there. You didn't want anyone to find out Marilyn and you were a thing, and werewolves are notoriously good at picking up scent, so having scented wipes was a good way to throw them off.

Finally being cleaned and fully dressed again, you sighed in content, remembering what just happened. "I should get going."

Marilyn smiled sadly, stroking your cheek and giving you a yearning kiss. "Just don't forget me, okay?"

Licking your lips, you nodded. "I won't, I swear." With those last words, you left the storage room, taking one last look at her before you left for the party.

---

@h-doodles @gwens0girl

#marilyn thornhill #ms thornhill #marilyn thornhill x reader #marilyn x reader #wednesday netflix #request

[pinkiepiebones]

If you’re in a narrative mood, what would it be like for a new person who knows very little to interact with the Ghost clergy and/or ghouls? Maybe a new congregant coming to their first Satanic service, or someone is visiting a friend who’s a novitiate/initiate at the abbey? Maybe even an outsider who’s new to the crew visiting to load stuff up and talking with Spesh and Papa IV? The choice is yours! Long time fan, first time caller and I love your work! You’re awesome!

*in their best Cecil from Night Vale voice* Well, thank you for your kind words, dear caller. We do not in fact have a phone number for the station, nor a phone, as the Sheriff has recently outlawed phones due to their tendency to emit a thick, black sludge that screams about your car's extended warranty, but rest assured that I am truly touched by your praise.

*back to their normal voice* ANYWAY!

Mo was not new to the hauling game. He had been hauling since he was a child, loading up rocks his mother had dug out of the flower bed into his toy truck and driving it across the yard to add the rocks to the pile by the weather-worn fence. He was a big guy, always had been. He was a man of few words- 'just point him to the haul,' his coworkers would say, 'Mo can carry most anything all on his own and load a truck up right.' Mo would hear this and nod. Damn right.

But then a coworker fell ill and Mo had to take her place on a special assignment. He sat in the back of the team van as it followed the cargo truck up winding, narrow roads Mo had never seen before. The landscape shifted almost imperceptibly, becoming darker, with a miasma of choking fog reducing visibility. After what seemed like hours, a building appeared on the hazy horizon, all black and steeples. To Mo it looked as though they were driving into the open palm of some ancient, incredible beast, fingers scraping the sky.

"What is this," Mo asked as the team rolled out of the van.

The team knew what to do, so Mo just followed, trying not to be mesmerised by the alien plants or the mist or the people- they had to be people, right?- standing on the roofs of the steeples. He focused on the large, old barn that the truck had parked near. A door rolled up, revealing many black cases with silver latches, varying in heights and widths.

A scrawny young man in an old band shirt and black skinny jeans bounded out of the barn and around the team, greeting everyone, exchanging handshakes and hugs. It was cold out and Mo noticed that the youngster's breath wasn't visible. "Huh."

"Oh, you're a new face," the guy exclaimed cheerfully. He grinned wide, bright eyes almost glowing. "You're Mo, yeah? Gary said you're fillin' in an' asked if I'd fill you in, so-" The punk spread his thin arms. "What can I tell ya?"

Mo grunted. In most cases he'd mutter something about the furniture, or the crates, or whatever needed to be loaded into the truck. In this instance, for once, he let his team get started and spoke more than he had spoken in the past seven months.

"What's this place?"

The punk spun on the heel of his black Converse sneakers and gestured grandly to the imposing building across the foggy lawn. "This is the church! We, uh-" he spun around again- "we don't have any such 'official' name, so, simply, it is 'the church.'"

Mo nodded. "Church of what?"

"Of... Oh! Satan. Myup. worshippin' Satan in there."

Mo's eyes widened. He looked at the building, then his coworkers. Didn't seem to bother them. And, as he thought about it, it didn't particularly bother him, either. He had not been raised in any sort of religion and figured, hey, as long as you're not hurting anyone, pray to whatever. He nodded.

"What're we loading?"

The punk bounced over to the open door of the barn. "This is mostly the band's equipment- uh, drums, many drums, guitars, basses, keyboards, keytars, tambourines, one old saxophone..." As the punk listed the instruments he counted them off on his slender fingers and appeared to be looking at the case that contained each named instrument or sets of instruments. "And then there's the stage stuff, like pyros and confettis and and concussions..."

"Special, are you inhibiting our fine moving crew?" a soft but commanding voice called out

Mo turned his head slightly to see a man his brain told him was 'dashing.' Mo had never used that word before and briefly wondered where his brain had found the word. The man was tall and slender, wearing a tailored suit that looked as though a fashion designer had skinned a black dragon to create a suit a biker could wear to an art exhibition. The man's salt and pepper hair was swept back and his face was painted black and white, resembling a skull. He walked with an elegant cane and a confident stride. He was almost knocked over as the punk- was his named really 'Special'?- gave him a bear hug.

"You're finally up from the nap! And no, I was not inhibiting anyone." Special the punk gestured to Mo. "This is Mo, a new hauler, I was tryna give him the rundown of all of this." The man in the elegant biker suit gently shooed Special the punk away with black gloves with blue, claw-like nails at the ends of the fingers. He then stepped closer to Mo and offered one of those clawed hands to shake.

"My apologies, this must be quite overwhelming. I am Papa Emeritus the Fourth, current, hmm, let's call my position 'man in charge.'" He smiled in a way that was friendly and deadly, and Mo shook his clawed hand.

"Y'all going on tour?" Mo asked.

Papa Emeritus the Fourth, the man in charge, nodded and leaned on his cane. "It's been a long time coming, but yes, we're coming back to our wonderful fans." He looked at Mo and Mo noticed the man in charge's eyes were different colours.

"Have you any more questions, Mo, or shall we leave you to it?"

Mo cracked his neck and his knuckles.

"Leave me to it."

Mo trudged off to grab the heaviest objects he could find and get them safely into the cargo truck. Papa Emeritus the Fourth and Special the punk turned and began walking back to the church.

"Special, you really need to remember to bring the informative pamphlets with you next time we have newcomers on the grounds."

"Nah, I prefer chattin' 'em up. I'm a people person! Er, ghoul."

#microfics #spooky ideas #ghost bc #the band ghost #papa emeritus iv