#my mom is insane but she loves us to be very clear

[sadclowncentral]

What uh. What's the frog story 👀

back when i was in second grade, my elementary school organised a school market with every class selling their crafts for charity. the contribution of my class were hand-sized ceramic frogs we made in art class. each one of us made one of them to be sold for five euros a piece (this is important later). the quality of the frog i made varies drastically based on who is telling the story, and for reasons that will become very apparent later there is no way to check, but i stand by the fact that it was average looking, if a bit wonky.

the day of the market arrived, and all frogs were bought within minutes, snatched up by enthusiastic and proud parents. all except - mine. because my mother hates spending money on unnecessary things, and she hates children's crafts even more. so she - loudly and vehemently - refused, in her thick eastern european accent, to "spend five euros on an ugly frog".

i will never forget seeing my ceramic frog alone on the slightly wet cardboard, surrounded by the imprints left behind by the already sold frogs. all the while other parents are getting more and more agitated, trying to get my mother to put the frog out of its misery. eventually, she budged, and spend five euros on a wonky frog. she was absolutely furious about this.

so furious, in fact, that when we came home to where my father was remodelling the kitchen, she WALLED IT IN. that's right. she cask of amadillo'd that poor ceramic fool. put him into the open wall and slapped concrete over it faster than my poor seven year old self or my dad could protest. out of pure anger over loosing five euros. and that's where it remains, until this day.

my mom hates when this story is brought up, which is why we bring it up all the time. she also thinks she what she did was right, because "do the other parents know where the frog is? no. only your creation is safe. because i love you." morally, i would disagree, but on a pure factual basis, she has a point.

i made her another ceramic frog for her last brithday, which was not buried like some pharaoh, and everytime guests compliment it my brother loudly goes "oh you should see the other frog he made" and when they ask to see it, he points at the wall. this is hilarious to him and infuriating for my mother. and that's the frog story.

#my mom is insane but she loves us to be very clear #everyone who i tell this story irl goes oh yeah. that makes sense. #it is my thesis statement.

[bookshelf-dust]

kiss it better

steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 3,176

warnings: swearing, sick fic (sorta), steve not taking care of himself, anxiety, stress, mental breakdown?, best friends to lovers deal (let me know if i missed something)

a/n: hi! it’s been awhile. i’m sorry about that. this has been a very slow process for me. my mental health is shit, and that’s probably obvious. i hope it hasn’t seeped into this too much, but it probably will with the next few things i write. i apologize for taking so long to post, for disappearing, for not really making this the blog it once was. but i’m not the same person i was then. so we’ll see where this goes. i hope you enjoy this one a little. i love you.

————

The shrill sound of a phone ringing scares you awake, eyes flying open, heart pounding so aggressively you fear for a split second that it might burst. 

You sit up quickly, enough so that you make yourself dizzy trying to get your bearings. You roll onto your side, and reach blindly across the edge of your nightstand, grabbing for the green plastic that’s shaking with the force of which it’s ringing. 

You almost fall out of bed, just managing to catch yourself as you bring the phone to your ear. 

“Hello?”

Your voice comes out weak, thick with sleep and the longing for more rest. It startles you and makes you clear your throat. 

“Hey, it’s me.”

The voice on the other line is even weaker than your own. It’s quiet.

“Steve?”

Your eyes find the alarm clock on your dresser, bright red letters telling you it’s just after one in the morning. You might be half-asleep, but you’re conscious enough that your heart rate picks up, registering that this isn’t when your best friend normally calls. 

You hear him breathe, along with some shuffling. He’s nodding his head, but realizes you can’t see. 

“Yeah. Listen,” he drags a shaking hand down his face. “I’m sorry to call so late.”

“Hey, it’s okay. What’s the matter? Is something wrong?”

He goes quiet for a moment, but you wait patiently for him to continue. He must be trying to get something out, and you don’t want to pressure him, or cause him stress in any way. 

Steve huffs, frustrated with himself. 

“I-I’ve got an insane headache, and we’re out of goddamn medicine. My parents were here, and my mom was hungover and I guess she must’ve emptied us out, but it hurts too bad to drive, and…” He trails off, breathing heavily. 

His pause lends you a moment to process, and you decide to speak up. If his head is killing him, you know finding the energy to speak to you, let alone call, has to be draining. You wouldn’t want him to suffer anymore than he already is. 

“Stevie?” you start, happy to hear a small hum that encourages you to go on. He registers what you’ve called him, something you don’t call him often, and his chest aches. “I’ve got some I can bring you. I think all the drugstores nearby are closed.” 

You swing your legs out from under the covers, pushing yourself off the mattress. Pressing the phone between your cheek and shoulder, you pull on the pair of sweats slung over the end of your bed, trying not to bust your ass as you hop into them. 

“Is anything else hurting you?” you ask, gently as can be. 

“Honestly?” he responds. “I think I’m sick. I can’t be sick, can I?”

You stand upright once again, taking the phone firmly in your hand. 

“I think even King Steve can get sick from time to time. I’ll be there soon, okay?”

————

Steve’s not sure you understand him. He can’t be sick. He’s got shit to do. He has a shift tomorrow, and he’s pretty sure Dustin needs a ride one day this week because Claudia is on a “girls trip.” He has to keep working on his college essay, because he’d told you he was almost done, but really he isn’t. 

Steve doesn’t have the time to be sick. And he can’t have you ruining your own schedule to come and babysit him. He’s supposed to be the babysitter. Not the charge. 

He should be able to take care of himself, but of course, the one time his parents come home they clean out his mediocre supply of medicine. Something he’s always stocked up on, given his tendency to get the shit beat out of him, or the nasty string of tension headaches that just won’t quit. 

And his head is killing him. He has his palms pressed to his temples, trying (and failing) to dull the ache. There aren’t any lights on in the kitchen, where he’s sitting on the floor, back pressed to the cabinets. 

He’s trying not to move too much either, because he’s dizzy. This probably has to do with the fact that he skipped dinner, feeling too nauseous to eat. Now that Steve is hungry, he fears he won’t be able to get up and fix anything. 

Maybe you’ll be able to help, he thinks. But that voice is quick with a counter argument. No. I need to do it. 

He perks up at the sound of the front door opening. “Steve?” you call out, careful not to slam the door or yell too loud. It’s also why you hadn’t rung the doorbell. 

Steve raps his knuckles softly against the countertop, hoping it’ll be enough to clue you in. He can’t bring himself to shout right now. You follow the sound, taking the few steps toward the kitchen. 

When your eyes lock on his figure, see the way the heels of his hands press into his eyes, you realize how young he looks. He almost looks small, legs pulled up to his chest, big, lanky body compacted as much as possible. He looks vulnerable. You’re sure he hates that. 

“Hi, Steve,” you say, keeping your voice low. 

He looks up at you, and his face splits into a sweet grin. He’s happy that you’re here, even if that voice is screaming at him, wanting to punish him for asking for help. 

“Hey, honey.” You smile back at him, and his heart rate picks up. Sometimes he forgets how beautiful you are, and then you’re standing in front of him, snatching every last breath from his lungs. 

You set your bag down beside him and reach out, brushing his hair back from his forehead. He feels a little warm, but not feverishly so. 

You move away from him, grabbing a cup from the drying rack. You fill it up with water and crouch at his side. Steve takes the glass from you, head resting against the cabinet to watch as you grab him some medicine. You hand him a few pills, and he takes them quickly. If he doesn’t get this headache calmed down soon, he thinks he might just die. 

Steve keeps drinking the water you gave him, and you push his hair back again, watching the way it curls around his ears. 

He drinks about half of the water before he pauses, taking a deep breath. He looks at you then. It’s mostly dark in the kitchen, but the lamp on the table by the front door is on, so you’re a little backlit from it. Not to mention the moonlight seeping in from the window above the sink.

You look gorgeous. And you came over to take care of him. You got up, at one in the morning, and drove to his house, just because he asked you to. Hell, he hadn’t even asked. He hadn’t gotten the words out. But you’d known. You’d known exactly what he was trying to ask, and you’d offered your help with no qualms. 

Steve’s nose starts to sting, and that pressure from behind his eyes—it starts to release. Before he knows it, his vision is getting cloudy, and he’s crying. He can’t be crying, can he? 

You carefully remove the glass from his hand and move in between his spread knees. 

“Steve, it’s okay. I’m here, and I’m gonna take top notch care of you.” 

“I know you are,” he says, voice breaking. “But I should be able to do it myself. I always do it myself.” He presses his hands against his face, but you catch his wrists and gently pull them away. 

You hold your arms out, and Steve practically falls into you. He buries his face in your neck. He can feel the warmth of your skin, the cotton of your sleep shirt. You smell like soap, that fancy conditioner you use. 

One of your hands finds the base of his neck, nails scratching gently over his scalp, thumb dragging over the top of his spine. Your other rubs soothingly up and down his back. 

“But the thing is, Stevie, you don’t have to.” 

He’s not a loud crier. But he is sort of panicky, breaths coming quick and short, chest heaving against your own. “I know you’ve always had to do a lot by yourself, but you can ask for help, and you don’t have to punish yourself for it, either.”

You feel him nod against your collarbone. His hands are fisting the back of your shirt. Eventually, he pulls away, but keeps his eyes closed. He tries to keep his head turned from your gaze. 

“Hey. Look at me.”

He does, albeit reluctantly. Steve’s cheeks are flushed, lashes clumped together and lips parted where he tries to suck in a good deep breath. 

You reach up, fingers gently sweeping away the remainder of the tears on his face. He leans into your touch, and you let him. You lean forward and press a sweet kiss to his forehead. You’ve never done that before.

Steve recognizes that you’ve never done it before, even if it’s sort of fuzzy. Sure, he’s kissed the back of your hand and you’ve reciprocated, but he’s usually the one to initiate physical affection. You’re too shy most often, even if you ache to do it. 

Fuck, he wishes he were a little more coherent right now. 

“Can you stand for me? It’s late, and I think you need to rest.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, sure.” Now that he’s thinking about it, getting in bed sounds so nice. 

You stand first, and watch as Steve pushes off the floor, gripping the countertop on the way up to steady himself. 

“Come on. The stairs are gonna be a pain.”

He reaches out for you, and you let him take your arm. He pads out to the staircase, and you watch each precarious step he takes, hoping he won’t get too woozy and trip. 

By the time he finally makes it up there, he’s wrapped both arms around your waist and buried his face between your shoulder blades. You soften beneath his hold. 

You walk slowly towards his bedroom, and he waddles behind you. You push the door open. “M’kay, Steve. Wanna change clothes and hop into bed?” 

He pulls off of you and grabs hold of his dresser. “I’m not givin’ you a free show.”

You snort. “I’ll go get some more water and be right back.”

His grin fades. “Please be fast.” He doesn’t want you to go. He doesn’t want you to leave him. 

“Steve, I’m practically The Flash.”

He laughs, pulling a pair of sweats and a t-shirt out of the drawer. Usually he’d sleep in less, but with you here he feels he should keep his modesty.

When you return, he takes the water from you, drinking it faster than he probably should. Steve feels like he’s had the shit beat out of him, and for once—he hasn’t. 

You’d sat down on the edge of the bed, not noticing the way he’s staring at you. You look up when he sets the glass down. He drags both hands down his face. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

He exhales. “I want you to stay here with me, but I don’t want you to get sick. The idea of you being on the couch, which is like, miles away, is driving me insane.”

“Steve?”

“Huh?”

“Can’t I just sleep on the futon?”

His eyes move towards the other side of his room where said piece of furniture is pressed against the wall. He’d bought it when group sleepovers became a thing after all they’d dealt with. Jesus, his brain really isn’t working. 

“Oh. Yeah, honey. Just don’t want you to go far.” 

You lean forward and push his hair back from his forehead. You’ll need to remember to take his temperature come morning.

“I’m not going anywhere, Steve. I promise. Not until you’re all better.”

————

When Steve wakes up, you’re not there. He starts to panic, thinking maybe he’d been too much, maybe he’d shown you a side of himself he shouldn’t have, that maybe you left. 

But you return to his room just as he’s about to start looking for you. There’s a thermometer in your hand. 

“Morning, sleepy boy. Are you coherent enough for me to check your temperature? Or no?”

He yanks the covers off of himself, and his shirt has ridden up. You catch a sliver of tummy before he sits up fully, and you miss it the second it’s gone. 

“Hit me, I can take it.”

You roll your eyes but stick the thermometer under his tongue when he opens his mouth. When you pull it away, you’re happy to see he hasn’t got a fever. He was warm last night when you kissed his forehead, but you’re thinking it was from stress or just overheating. 

“No fever. What’s buggin’ you today, Stevie?”

He flops onto his back, and his shirt rides up again. You mentally slap yourself for being so enamored by it. All your brain can compute is tummy. Steve’s tummy. “My head still, and my stomach. I feel like I haven’t slept in four years.”

His words snap you out of your reverie. “Four years? That’s incredible. When’s the last time you ate something?”

Steve stares at you for a moment, though it looks as if there isn’t a single thought behind his eyes. “Yesterday…morning. I think. Yeah, I had a banana.”

You stare back, rather appalled at his statement. “Steve.”

“Hm?”

“All you’ve had to eat in the past twenty four hours is a banana?”

“Yep.”

“Jesus christ. Get your ass up and come with me.”

Steve doesn’t move. Rather he watches you move, right out the door and towards the top of the stairs. You pause and turn around, crossing your arms. 

He huffs. And then he slides down the side of the bed like a child before crawling up and following you to the kitchen. 

Over the course of the next few hours, you manage to get Steve to eat, shower, and go for a short walk, weather permitting and all. He’s looking astronomically better than he did last night. 

Steve sits opposite you on the couch, his socked feet in your lap. “What do you think my deal is?”

You rub your hand over his calf. “I think you just had a little bug. Or maybe you let yourself get too stressed out and your body couldn’t take it.”

He blinks. “Is that…that's not a thing? Is it?”

“When’s the last time you gave yourself a fuckin’ break, Steve? When you just took a day for yourself rather than worrying about who needs to go where, or if you’ll have to cover a shift? You have to take care of yourself, or this is the kind of shit that happens.”

“Being overwhelmed about your parents, not eating, worrying about that application, all of that is fucking with you. That headache was probably a stress headache. They’re killer. I want you to be healthy and comfortable, Steve.”

You exhale, and close your eyes. When you open them, Steve has sat up, scooting towards you on your end of the couch. 

He might still be tired, but he can’t believe this. He can’t believe you. No one has ever worried for him in this way. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask. 

He barely even registers your words, too busy memorizing every line on your face. You look so fucking beautiful. It almost makes him angry. 

“I’m thinkin’ about how bad I want to kiss you.”

Your face starts to burn. You shove his shoulder. He looks at the place where you’d pushed, quirking a brow, but grinning nonetheless.

“What?”

“Steve, you can’t say shit like that.”

“How come?”

“Because we’re friends.”

“Best friends.”

“Well yeah, but best friends don’t say that to one another.”

His grin widens. He looks more awake than he has this entire time. 

“Oh, but you haven’t said it.”

You blink. “Huh?”

Steve gets his voice up that little bit higher, doing a cheap imitation of you. “‘Best friends don’t say that to one another.’ Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but that implies you want a kiss too, doesn’t it?”

You drag your hands down your face and flop back against the arm of the couch. 

“So you gonna say it, or what?” He’s shifted, and you can feel him hovering over you, but you refuse to move your hands. 

“Of course I’m thinking about kissing you, Steve.” You suck in a breath and open your eyes, locking with his own. “But you’ve got cooties.”

Steve rolls his eyes before he backs up and yanks on your ankle so that you’re flat against the couch. 

“You did not just lecture me about self-care just to tell me I have cooties. I didn’t even have a fever.” 

“I didn’t even have a fever,” you mock, lowering your voice in what is quite possibly the worst impression of him you could do.

He’s quick about it. Almost stealthy, not that you’d ever boost his ego by telling him so. But his fingers are reaching for your sides, the tips dancing over your shirt, that tiny sliver of hip showing where it’s ridden up. 

Steve is practically drunk off of your laugh. It’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard, and when he goes for your neck, when you tilt your head and trap his fingers between your cheek and shoulder, he thinks he could die. 

You and your laugh. The fact that you drove over at one in the fucking morning, without even thinking about it, just because you care. That you stayed the night, listened to his pitiful thoughts, took care of him…it’s too much. 

Never in his life did he think he’d find someone like you. Someone who makes him feel like he matters. You’d made him realize how smart he is, how capable. That he could do things for himself and not just to please his dickhead father. 

You have made him whole. 

He lets up when you start breathing extra heavily, only to tickle the underside of your foot before he quits, just to piss you off. You kick him in the side. 

“I think a kiss from my very favorite person might be the best form of self-care there is, honey.”

You sit up. “Wow. King Steve really never died.” He raises his hands like he might tickle you again, but you catch them before he can do any damage. “Okay, sorry!” 

Before he can register it, you’ve leaned in and pressed your lips to his. When he does realize, he lets out a surprised hum, and you can feel that smartass smirk forming on his face. 

When you pull away, he whines. 

“All better?”

Steve falls back against the couch, pulling you with him just to get that laugh out of you again. 

“I’m healed.”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

#savannah’s fics #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington comfort #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington sick fic #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fluff

[anadiasmount]

jude and you being childhood bestfriends but your parents are also super close. Your parents always suspecting yous both like each other and constantly teasing yous about it. But you’ve both been dating for a like a year in secret cos yous both don’t know how to tell your parents and one day they just find out cuz they come home u expectedly when you and Jude are cuddling and everyone’s just all so happy for yous 💗

- your writing is amazing btw x

thank you lovely, means so much! 😣🤍

“we should tell them soon… my mom has become very suspicious of me lately. she followed me to the grocery store! the grocery store jude!” you laughed, feeling as he chuckled on top of you. “do you think we did wrong in not telling them? well besides jobe because he got us here in the first place…” you wandered off asking, jude’s head coming up to stare at you.

“i personally don’t think so baby. look at us, a year strong, and so many memories spent together. i wouldn’t change it for the world, because it means i have you all to myself,” jude says softly, while your finger fixes his brow that had been messed up. “they would understand. both of our families. they know how stressful and hard our jobs are, so who can blame us?”

“nobody.”

“exactly my love. how did you want to tell them?” jude asked, snuggling closer to you and placing kisses all over your chest. you laughed and tried to sway away but with his bigger frame he pinned you down. “i was thinking of just telling them today, maybe at dinner or when we play games?”

“whatever you decide i’m right there,” jude replied, falling asleep in less then 10 minutes.

while you hated being separated from jude, he unfortunately had to go back to his house to get ready. you slipped into a dark red dress and left down, your hair parted to your preference, making sure to apply a red lip and gold jewelry. the heels made you look taller which is what you wanted.

after grabbing the cupcakes and chocolate covered strawberries, you and your family were headed out to his house were you’d host christmas. you greeted everyone, asking how they were a wishing them a merry christmas eve.

jude almost choked on his drink as he saw you walk in. he was in a trance, his eyes roaming up and down your body, his lips and throat becoming dry at your figure. for a second he got slightly jealous as he observed you talk to one of his moms friend son, which clearly he took a liking.

he scrunched his brows and cleared throat, his mom coming next to him, “you okay jude? y/n looks so pretty doesn’t she,” his mom taunted his head more to which jude snickered. “she always looks beautiful mom,” he did his attempted wink, and walked over to the living room leaving her with a brow raised.

a warm and larger palm touched your shoulder, making you jump, and look down shyly as you stood next to jude. “hi max, you good?” jude pursed, clearly bothered by the interaction which left you confused.

before max respond could respond, jude cut him off “thats good, gonna borrow this one really quick,” he pulled you aside to the kitchen where it was alone. your heels clicked on the grown still holding the cupcakes. “jude slow down,” you warned him.

as you set the tray down, jude double checked the doorway, and strides to where you were. you giggled at his pout and frown. “it was driving me insane. you talking to him? while you look so sexy in this dress? jesus it’s gonna drive me crazy all night. you look beautiful darling,” jude rambled, his hands roaming your sides and placed firmly on your ass.

“thank you baby, you look handsome yourself,” although you were still wearing heels, you had to lean up, and jude lean down to catch your lips in a quick kiss, that then turned into three pecks, “i left lipstick all over your lips jude,” you tried to wipe it away but two gasps had you standing still.

“WE KNEW IT! OH MY GOSH! ITS A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE!” said your mom, her hands covering her mouth as she smiled huge. jude’s mom just smirked and walked over to the two of you, “care to explain jude?”

jude still had lipstick on his lips, which made you laugh as your wrapped your hand on his right bicep and muscles. his cheeks slightly went red, embarrassed at being caught, “well we’ve been dating for a year… and she’s the woman i’m gonna marry,” he said confidently.

“A YEAR? YOUVE BEEN DATING FOR A YEAR? john grab my glass this is worth to celebrate,” your mom fanned her face dramatically before joining jude’s mom next to her. they have the two of you warm and tight hugs, scolding you for keeping it hidden for so long.

“we’re so happy for the two of you, i’m glad the two of you found each other and are able to start a relationship! we love you guys,” his mom said. after a quick conversation, jude pulled you into the bathroom, he took a quick selfie of his marked red lips and posted it onto his story, captioning it with “merry christmas to all 🤍🎄”

you cleaned his lips and tried to remove every red mark. walking back out to being faced with everyone looking at you, the two of you chuckled nervously, jude’s hand finding home with yours as everyone continued to stare.

“congratulations on finally making it officially,” jobe teased everyone cheering, which made you hide your face onto his chest.

#judey thoughts 5️⃣ #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ impossible ] t. seguin

day eleven of malia’s christmas fic marathon

paring : Tyler Seguin x fem!reader

summary : (Y/N) is surprised when ex boyfriend Tyler knocks on the door of her parents’ house on Christmas Day

warning(s) : angsty, but nothing besides that

author’s note : last two fics of the christmas marathon. let’s do this

༺═──────────────═༻

She has never been happier to be home in Toronto. (Y/N) loves living in Dallas, but the last few weeks haven’t been the best. Being surrounded by family should help her out of the post-breakup funk she’s been in recently.

Even now as she's sitting in the living room with her family in her Christmas pajamas and opening their gifts, she misses Tyler. She misses her old life with Tyler, but she couldn't do it anymore. She couldn't keep doing the distance.

He was away more often than he was home. When he was home, he went out with his teammates after games or on off days. She'd often go weeks without seeing him because he'd stay over at a teammate's house.

She wasn't equal with hockey anymore. Not like she used to be. She got tired of it.

She never gave him an ultimatum because she could never make him choose between her and hockey. (Y/N) made her feelings known and Tyler didn't seem to care, so she has been living with her best friend in Dallas and came home for Christmas a week ago. She stopped answering Tyler's texts and calls so she hasn't even talked to him in nearly two months.

Her family doesn't notice that something's wrong. (Y/N) does her best to keep a smile on her face and interacts with her nieces and nephews as they open their gifts. No one has asked where Tyler is and she is very much grateful for that.

As (Y/N) opens a gift from her mom, there's a knock on the door. Her mom goes to answer it as she opens the box that contains a Dallas Stars customized jersey that has her last name above the 91. "Tyler!" her mother shouts from the front door. "It's so nice of you to join us. We didn't think you'd be joining us."

Her head snaps toward the door so quickly that she thought for a split second that she gave herself whiplash. She's very surprised to see her ex standing at the front door of her parents' house in Toronto.

"I needed to go see my parents before coming over," Tyler says as he looks right at (Y/N). "Sorry I'm late. I forgot how insane Toronto traffic can be."

Words cannot express how angry and annoyed she is that he is at the door. She thought that he would've gotten the message that she was done when she didn't talk to him for two months.

Apparently not because there he stands in a Stars hoodie and plaid pajama pants with a bag full of gifts at the front door.

She gets up off the floor and pushes Tyler out the door without a word to anyone. It closes behind her, leaving the two of them alone in the cold Toronto air. Snow is on the ground and she's outside in a tank top, fuzzy pajama pants, and slippers. (Y/N) can't even feel the cold because of the fact that she is fuming.

"You have no right showing up," she spits at him. "We haven't spoken in two months and you show up at my parents' house."

Tyler blinks and says, "Last time I checked, you're the one that stopped talking to me. I don't remember being told that I wasn't allowed to come to Christmas because you stopped answering my texts and calls."

"We're done, Tyler," she tells him. "In case that wasn't clear."

"You're done," he retorts. "I'm not. I don't understand why you just up and left."

"I told you why!" (Y/N) practically shouts. "You're gone for weeks at a time, Tyler. The only time I get to see you is when we're separated by a thick piece of glass while I'm sitting in the stands and you're on the ice. You used to spend off days with me, you used to come home to me and we'd watch a movie on the couch or in bed. Then you decided to go out after every game or go out on off days."

He runs a hand through his hair and says, "I am a leader, (Y/N). I was never around my team. I needed to show them that I am still a leader and I couldn't do that when I was cooped up at home with you. You knew what you were getting into when we started dating and all of a sudden, you can't handle it anymore?"

Anger courses through her veins. Her blood is boiling to the point where the snow might melt around her. "No," she retorts. "I can't do it anymore. You used to make time for me and now you're a ghost. I was living in a shell of our past life together while you seemed to be moving on. I was alone in that apartment. It was like I didn't have a boyfriend anymore. I didn't think it would be that big of a deal if I left."

A look of hurt flashes on Tyler's face. "Of course it would be a big deal if you left," he softly says. "I love you. I miss you."

She shakes her head and does everything she can to keep the tears from spilling over to her cheeks. "You didn't listen," she tells him. "I told you how I felt and you still went out that night after the game. I made the decision to leave because I knew that if you went out after I told you how I felt, you'd keep going out. I couldn't do it anymore."

Tyler frowns and says, "I went out to tell the guys that I wasn't going to be going out as much with them after games and on off days. That is the only reason I went out. I was gone for thirty minutes. When I came back to the apartment and you were gone, I realized that I didn't tell you that I'd be right back."

"I- you-" she cuts herself off when she realizes that if she had just stayed around for an hour, he would've been back. "Why didn't you just text that to me?"

"I thought that you'd be back," he admits. His eyes fall to the ground. "I didn't think you'd ignore me for two months. I didn't think it would take you a half hour to pack a bag and leave. I should've told you that I'd be right back."

A tear slips down Tyler's cheek. Her own tears begin to fall when she sees Tyler's tears. "Tyler, I'm so sor-"

"It's not your fault," he interrupts her. "Don't you dare apologize. We wouldn't even be in this situation if I had just realized how lonely you were or if I had just told you that I would be right back. I'm sorry. I know I probably shouldn't have come up here to try and fix things but I couldn't let you spend Christmas thinking you did something wrong when you didn't."

She takes a few steps forward and wraps her arms around his torso. Tyler's free arm wraps around her shoulders as she buries her face in his chest.

They've both done a lot wrong the past few months, but all they can do now is acknowledge what they've done wrong and move past it.

Hopefully Tyler's season can recover too because despite not being together, (Y/N) did keep an eye on his stats. He really began to fall apart a week after she left the apartment and has never been able to get it together.

That's all on her.

"Sorry your season has gone to shit," she sniffles as she looks up at him. "You can blame that on me."

Tyler shakes his head and cups her jaw with his free hand. "I'll never blame how good or bad a season is going on you," he tells her. "That will never be on you.'

A gust of wind blows and she shivers. Tyler wraps his arm back around her shoulders and holds her close to him. "I'll blame myself enough for both of us," she says. "Can we go inside?"

"As long as you're not done," Tyler replies. "I came up here to fight for us and I won't go inside unless you tell me that we can go back to how things were, minus my going out all the time."

(Y/N) looks up at him and nods. "I'm not done," she practically whispers. "Even when I said I was done, I don't think I actually was. You're impossible to move on from, Tyler Seguin."

He smiles and leans down to press a soft kiss to her lips. He hums and pulls back. "God, (Y/N)," he says. "Your lips are so cold. Let's go."

She lets out a light laugh and walks into the house with Tyler in tow.

Everyone looks at the two of them as Tyler pulls off his hoodie and pulls it over (Y/N)'s head since they were outside for fifteen minutes talking in freezing temperatures. "Everything okay?" her mom asks. "You guys were outside for a while. I thought I heard yelling."

"Everything's okay," she assures everyone in the living room. She goes back to sitting on the ground and Tyler sits next to her. He takes her hands in his so they warm up. She leans into him and rests her head on his shoulder. "We're okay."

That was more for Tyler than anything. He kisses the top of her head before he starts to hand out the gifts that he brought with him for (Y/N)'s parents and siblings. She watches them open their presents with a smile on her face.

Then Tyler holds a little present in front of (Y/N). She slowly takes it and looks up at him. "What is this?" she asks.

"Now that would ruin the surprise," Tyler teases. "Open it and find out. I know technically we weren't together when I bought this but I knew I wanted to buy it for you."

She unwraps it and opens the little black box. There's a silver ring that sits inside with a 91 in little diamonds on it. Her jaw drops and she looks up at her boyfriend. "You really went all out even though we weren't together," she gasps.

Tyler grabs it out of the box and takes her right hand. He slides the ring on the ring finger. "Wanted to make sure that everyone knows who your boyfriend was when we got back together," he replies. She admires the ring on her finger and Tyler kisses the ring.

(Y/N) smiles and leans against him to watch the last few presents get opened.

It finally feels like Christmas now that Tyler is here. It didn't feel like it until he got here because they have spent the last three Christmases together.

Despite being angry that he showed up, she's very happy he's here now.

༺═──────────────═༻

MAIN MASTERLIST

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#hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey oneshot #hockey blurb #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl oneshot #nhl blurb #tyler seguin #tyler seguin x reader #tyler seguin angst #tyler seguin fluff #malia’s christmas marathon

[lucysarah-c]

Masterlist!

All my Levi x reader fanfics and Levi fanart

Art Commission: OPEN!

Writing Requests: CLOSED!

Headcanons:

-> Levi dating a Swifty

-> Levi's s/o telling him she's pregnant

One-Shots:

-> Ackerman’s blood

Levi fears for the first time that perhaps his Ackerman's powers aren't a bleassing when his son suffers the consequences of them. Dad! Levi x Reader

-> Stoppers (NSFW!!)

Levi feels overwhelming jealous and decides that there's nothing better to set things clear of who owns who than a good old fucking. Levi x Reader.

-> Criminal Record Part 1 - Part 2

Levi insist he has done worse things in his life than, perhaps, sleeping with a subordinate.

-> Traidor

2020 what a time to be alive. The snk character are doing the same as old of us trying to survive the lockdown... playing among us! Levi x reader.

-> Father’s day

Having a soldier as a father is never easy, way less when your father is Humanity's strongest soldier. Levi's kid has the perfect gift but perhaps it's not the perfect scenario. Dad! Levi x Mom! reader

-> Couple goals

Levi hates military's formal events and you know it. Both of you still make the perfect team.

-> Baby boy

Hang out with your higher-ups as you just become Levi's girlfriend. What's the worse thing that could happen? Spoiler alert: Eren is not going to forget about this... neither Erwin.

-> Scratches down his back

Having a boyfriend that's a good couple of years older than you has it's pros... specially when he decides to show them to you. Levi x reader

-> Blackfire

Erwin insists that Levi should educate his squad on certain topics proper of their age. Levi isn't really convinced but Commander's orders are Commander's orders… However, Erwin didn't specify on what he should educate his bratty cadets about. Levi x reader!

-> ANGEL

You met Captain Levi while working as a teacher at one of the new orphanages that Queen Historia created. He seems so willying to help. (YANDERE! Levi x reader NSFW!!)

-> Tea time

Levi is deep down a huge gossip old lady. Levi x reader

-> An Old-fashioned Girl

You're a teen living her normal life until she travelled back on time to aot period.

-> Self-sabotage

Erwin begs Levi to buy him a coffee on his way to university. Having a crush in a barista is so hard when you don't like coffee. (Modern au! University student Levi having a crush on a barista)

-> Not in season? NSFW! Part 1 - Part 2

Winter had settled in, and the scouts were busy training and preparing for the prospects of spring, still far away, to retake Wall Maria. Despite the snow accumulating outside, the building was freezing cold, and the world had secluded itself until the temperature rose. So, why was Captain Levi boiling in his own body? Something felt off, but his mind was quickly slipping into insanity as he tried to find a rational explanation. OMEGAVERSE ALPHA LEVI X OMEGA READER.

-> Levi and the first encounter! Underground! Levi

Tales of Levi's life in the underground.

-> EXPLANATION OMEGAVERSE AU

-> Fifteen, what an age to be alive!

Steal your father's car! What could go wrong? Dad! Levi x Mom! Reader

-> Laundry Problems

Levi's a very stoic calm man. He always does laundry but as a unknown piece of clothe appear, Levi's life flash before his eyes. Levi x reader

-> Bed-head Levi

How are Captain Levi's mornings?

-> Boop! You've been chosen!

Levi and you decide to adopt a kitty.

-> My Teen! Levi's modern AU stories.

There's a lot of them so here's a link to all of them.

Little Pieces I Wrote (Self-Explanatory Titles).

-> Levi isn't romantic

-> Levi as a father part 1 part2

-> Unpopular aot opinions

-> Levi growing up in the underground 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8,

-> Levi's morning with happy ending NSFW

-> Sick clingy Levi NSFWish

-> Soft Levi NSFWish

-> Horny Levi x nurse! reader NSFW

-> Levi x Passenger princess reader

-> Travelling with Levi

-> Girlfriend effect on Levi!

-> Levi loving calling his girlfriend "wife"

-> Levi and farlan as roomies

-> Levi as the father of a baby boy

-> Being humanity's strongest baby girl

-> SnK boys and pilates.

Holy Ground (longfic! over 300k Levi x reader)

Your relationship with your boyfriend is hanging on by a very thin thread, and everything is a good excuse to not go back to your cold bed - and that’s how you find yourself in a situation that you will soon regret. This story takes place before Eren discovered he was a Titan shifter, before Wall Maria was retaken, even before it was broken. The veterans usually make fun of the cadets for being bratty teenagers, but were they any better?

600! Followers event!

Have you ever wished you could ask Captain Levi a few questions and see his reaction? Well! say no more! I left Levi incharge of my blog for a few days. Enjoy the comic with hisreactions!

2k! Followers event!

Have you ever wished you could ask Captain Levi a few questions and see his reaction? Well! say no more! I left Levi incharge of my blog for a few days. Enjoy the comic with hisreactions! Part 2! Levi's revenge.

SnK Incorrect Quotes:

63 and COUNTING silly posts of quotes that I think snk characters would say.

You think that art looks cute? I draw it! Here's a link to a few of my other pieces!

WANNA JOIN MY TAG LIST SO YOU DON’T LOSE A SINGLE POST? HERE!

#levi ackerman #levi #captain levi #levi aot #snk levi #levi x reader #levi x y/n #aot levi #snk levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackeman #levi attack on titan #captain levi ackerman x you #captain levi x reader #captian levi x reader #captain levi ackerman x y/n #captain levi x you #levi shingeki no kyojin #levi x you #aot #attack on titan #snk #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titans #levi smut #levi x reader smut #levi ackerman snk #levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman x reader smut #levi ackerman x female!reader

[luvhughes43]

presidential escort | trevor zegras x reader

luvhughes43 masterlist🌷

request: Trevor Zegras x Mexican!reader where she’s the daughter of a famous singer and actress in Mexico. Reader is also a famous actress and slowly making a name for herself in the US. Her and Trevor meet at like a charity event and she’s taking him home to meet her family and when they’re at the airport he’s shocked to see that him and reader practically need a presidential escort out because of how many people showed up at the airport to see her once word got out that she was coming home. Like Trevor knew reader was famous but he didn’t realize how loved her and her mother are.

word count: 1.3k

you couldn't remember a time where you hadn’t been in the limelight. you were used to the harsh light of the camera as hundreds flashed in your direction, and the symphony of excited shouts and screams that all called your name. your mother was and is an iconic actress and singer in mexico, and so you and your family have always been in the public's interest. you easily followed into your mothers footsteps as you carved your name into hollywood and across the world. 

your big break in the hollywood came with your lead role in a massively successful disney film. you were this year's breakout star, and therefore were invited to every charity and red carpeted event.

“y/n! over here!” your publicist ushered you away from the red carpet. she pulled you aside, quickly explaining to you how the press for this event was going to work. “there's a rep from the anaheim ducks who’s going to do a quick interview-” you nod along to her words, already used to how these charity events work. 

it was not less than a minute later that you were standing in front of a gorgeous boy with a microphone in his hands. “uh, im trevor!” the boy introduced himself clumsily. it was clear he had absolutely no experience in the world of interviewing. 

“hello, im y/n!” you smiled at trevor and watched as his cheeks burned a brilliant shade of red.

“im uh, clearly not used to being the one interviewing people” he said sheepishly, hand coming up to run through his hair. 

“maybe start with asking a question,” you prompt him, giggling quietly as you look at how dumbfounded trevor looked.

“yeah, that's probably a good idea,” trevor nodded, “uh so ! y/n what's like… your favourite memory of being an actress?” “my favourite memory…. i love walking onto the completed sets and seeing everyone in costume and makeup… it's so cool to see everything come together after only reading scripts. seeing everything put together for (your film) was so surreal.” you gave your real answer before messing with trevor. “but… talking to you has also been really fun! I think you should become an interviewer,” you smiled cheekily up at trevor who once again blushed.

the rest was history after that interview. before moving onto the next interviewer, you asked trevor to see his list of interview questions. when he passed the sheet over to you, you wrote your number down for him to call. he called you the very next day. 

7 months later…

trevorzegras

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trevorzegras summer lovin’

tagged: ynoffical

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ynoffical my favourite interviewer🫶

trevorzegras my favourite actress!❤️

jackhughes finally ig official

user11 HES DATING YN LN???

user67 HELLOOOO?? 

user99 bro is just casually dating yn ln

user31 who is she?

user99 an iconic mexican actress. she comes from a super well known family. her mom is also an insanely popular actress and singer

user52 MOTHERRRRR ynoffical i love u😫🙏🙏

ynoffical

liked by trevorzegras, jackhughes, _alexturcotte, and others

ynoffical my boy ❤️

tagged: trevorzegras

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trevorzegras my girl❤️

trevorzegras love you

ynoffical i love you

jackhughes cant believe u decided to date him im ngl

ynoffical hes charming idk what else to say !

user44 this hard launch omggg😓😓🙏

user01 now post a selfie we dgaf about trevor ! user88 YN YN YN

user92 TREVOR???

a few months into dating and your family in mexico were already asking you to bring trevor home to meet him. with it now being off season, and you being in between projects, you had some free time to make the trip to visit your family. 

you had tried to warn trevor about your family's level of fame, but no amount of stories or video proof could really explain the insane pull your family had with the public. 

trevor held your hand tightly as you two exited the plane. “are you nervous?” you questioned him lightly, staring up at him to see his genuine reaction. trevor smiled down at you before nodding. “what if your family doesn’t like me?” 

“they’ll love you,” you easily reassure trevor in the short amount of time you have before you need to step outside and find your car. you squeeze his hand three times, and then your designated airport security guard ushers you further through the airport. 

“Y/N! Y/N!”

“Y/N L/N OVER HERE!!!”“Y/N!!!” 

you heard the crowd before you saw them. luckily, your mom had sent her security to the airport once she caught wind that your flight details were leaked to the public. her security joined you at baggage claim, and trevor looked at you in shock. he knew you were from a very famous family, but he didn’t anticipate all the screaming fans and glaring flashes of the camera as they tried to photograph you two in the airport. 

“your car is waiting outside Ms. L/n” one of the security guards spoke and you nodded in response. 

“are you ready trev?” you asked, taking a minute to gauge his reaction to the crowd he no doubt heard screaming too. Trevor was tense. his shoulders were pulled back and he was standing straight, something he did when he was nervous. trevor nodded to your question but you knew he was lying. “It's okay to be nervous there's a lot of people,” you easily reassured your boyfriend who let out a breath. he nodded a few times, before seemingly relaxing.

“hold my hand again?” trevor asked, holding his hand back out to you. you easily take his hand and bring it up to your lips. 

“okay, we can go out now,” the security guard from before motions for the other guards to be alert as you begin to go outside to your car. 

“YNNN!!!” 

everyone was shouting your name, you and trevor were being blinded by the flashes of cameras, and you swore you had never seen a larger crowd in all of your life. with you being gone in the usa for the past two years, yours and your families fandom in mexico were going crazy over your return. 

“there's so many people!” trevors shocked voice was loud in your ear as he leaned down so you would hear him. before you could respond, the crowd started to shift as they pushed against the barrier that was separating them from you. all of the security guards were quick to step into action as they pushed against the crowds and blocked them with their bodies. 

you gripped trevor's hand tighter as you quickened your pace to the car that you were less than a foot away from.

as soon as you and trevor were in the car, and the doors were closed, trevor laughed. “that was insane!!” he giggled, looking out his window. “babe, there are so many people here! like i know you said you had a lot of fans but this…” he trailed off, looking at the rows and rows of people who were still screaming your name.

“SUV 1 you can drive,” your driver said into his phone. 

“there's more than one car??” trevor exclaimed, now looking ahead through the front window as a black car started pulling ahead. you couldn't help but smile at his astonishment. “this is literally like a presidential escort… OH baby look!” trevor's voice was loud with excitement as he started to point at various things in the crowds. 

fans were holding posters with your face on it, there were various posters of your mom as well… trevor couldn't believe what he was seeing. 

“this is crazy!” trevor gushed again, detailing every little thing that he was seeing in the crowd to you. he had never seen anything like this before. 

trevorzegras

liked by ynoffical, jamie.drysdale, _quinnhughes, and others

trevorzegras had the most insane time in mexico with my love

tagged: ynoffical

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ynoffical ❤️❤️

ynoffical i had the best time with you

trevorzegras ❤️

jackhughes i wanna go next time ynoffical 

ynoffical i'll book the tickets👩‍💻

user42 okay but is he mom approved? ynoffical

ynoffical she absolutely loves him

user33 u guys look so good im cryinggg😭😭🫶

user77 CUTIESSS

user21 i got to see u guys at the airport! yn was stunning🫶🫶

liked by trevorzegras

you couldn't have dreamed of a better trip. you got to show trevor all around your hometown, and he got to meet your family who were all so excited to meet the boy you were always talking about. you couldn't wait for the next time you got to go home to mexico again.

#trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras fluff #trevor zegras fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl blurb #nhl imagine #nhl fic

[silentglassbreak]

Please please , write something. Noah and Lily, she is designer and painter, they are working together on design for new album or merch, or something like that. She is redhead, have freckles, have a lot of tattoos, like to wearing skirts and sundresses. thank you! I love your work so so much 💔💔🥲

Bb you are my first ask! So, naturally, you have my undying love and affection for eternity!

Also, this physical description is giving me such inspiration. My best friend has a very similar physical appearance, so this will be fun!! (I just finished this and OMG this got away from me. I did not intend for this to be this long...I really got into this one. I hope you enjoy!)

So let’s get into this, shall we?

Rating: Mature (for language)

Warnings: None.

Into The Ocean

What did I think would happen when I moved to New York City? That I would get here, put a few paintings in some galleries, and suddenly I’d be making millions? How fucking insane am I?

My inner monologue continued as I catatonically stirred my bowl of soggy Frosted Flakes, moping heavily.

It had been six months since I moved here on a whim and a breath of a dream, thinking that with my ‘sparkling personality’, ‘adorably good looks’, and ‘raw talent’ I’d be a success so quick. These days, however, I spent a lot of time wishing I had stayed back home in Hartford, in my Mom’s two bedroom home, with my dog and my normalcy.

No, couldn’t be me. I had to go off with delusions of grandeur, and get myself a full time job as a desk girl at a law firm (which sucked), and had virtually no time to paint like I wanted. My studio apartment in Queens was big enough for me; a bed, a small table, and my paint supplies. I had a clothes rack for my small wardrobe, and a television on the wall adjacent to my bed. My minimal belongings were strewn haphazardly around with no real method. It felt much like my life - off kilter.

Frustrated, I decided to get off the bed, still holding my bowl, and stared at the cereal floating sadly in the milk. It looked so pathetic, the same as I felt.

My eyes wandered to the floor, then the edge of the bed, and eventually to the right of it, where the seven-foot by four-foot canvas sat.

I had that particular canvas since my first day here in New York. I swore that canvas would hold my best work. The piece that would change everything for me. I promised myself I wouldn’t touch it until I was certain I knew what it would be, and was ready.

But now? Staring at it? It mocked me. Day in, day out, it reminded me that I was just another struggling artist in this God forsaken jungle of a city made of concrete and exploitation. It laughed at me. It told me I had failed.

Without realizing it, my arm shot the bowl in my hand clear across the room, the milk and flakes splattering all over my bed, and eventually spraying the canvas. It left a sickly gray hue against the stark white vastness behind it, giving me a sense of anger. A sense of rage.

Climbing up onto my bed, my feet digging into the mattress while I reached for the shelf above it, grabbing random paints from the bowl they lived in. I hastily twisted the caps off of each, my breathing becoming frantic as I felt the sudden anxiety surge through me.

Once the tubes were open, I didn’t bother with my palette, or my brushes, I just squeezed the tubes, three in each hand, until they all sprayed like firehoses over the canvas, all in varying shades of blue and black. I hadn’t even realized I only grabbed blue and black paint.

Finally, after several minutes of raging, smearing paint across the canvas with no structure, using my palms and fingers, I stepped back. The anger and fire in my chest had dulled. I took a step back, and caught a glimpse of myself in my wall-length mirror across the room, and cringed.

Navy blue paint streaked my pale yellow shorts and faded UC t-shirt. I had a large glob of black paint on my face near my hairline, turning that spot of my red waves a midnight color. I needed a shower.

Now that I had thoroughly ruined my clothes, bed, walls, and canvas, I elected to head for the bathroom to clean myself up before the process of cleaning my apartment.

However, as I turned away from the canvas, I caught a sight of it in my peripheral, and something in my brain sparked. The blues and blacks, which turned dark grey when mixed. The lines and swirls they fell in. The non-uniformity of it all.

Waves.

Ocean.

Chaos.

And like that, I was climbing back up on my bed, ready to finish my painting.

It was after 5AM, and I only had three hours before I had to be back at work before I finished. When I did, I gasped at what I saw in front of me.

It was superb.

The waves crashed everywhere as the moon hung low in the sky, storm clouds covering. Amidst the maelstrom that was the ocean, there was one large, beautiful, impossibly sad octopus, thrashing in the waves, bleeding from the eyes.

The octopus was a deep gray, blending but also naturally contrasting the color of the waves, deep crimson blood running from its desperate eyes.

It was painful. It was despondent. It was powerful.

This was it.

-

Forty-two days had passed, and I was struggling to breathe as my hands trembled where they sat in my pockets, watching the droves of people walk by me. I did my best to smooth down the skirt of my lime-green sundress and tugged at the lapels of my denim jacket. My hair was pulled into a tight ponytail, leaving my waves to cascade down my back loosely, out of my face.

The sun above provided a warmth that was needed, but I had forgotten SPF today, which meant I would likely have a fresh batch of freckles on my cheeks to add to all the others. Today had to be the day. Something in my skin told me it did.

I had been to three art fairs, two open galleries, and a fine arts convention, trying to get something, anything sold.

Three days after I finished my piece, I was told that Burgen & Black no longer needed my position, so this was all I had right now. This, and the three hundred dollars my mom loaned me when I told her I was a little short on rent.

Rent wouldn’t be an issue soon if I didn’t sell anything, as cardboard boxes are real cheap.

This open fair was in Central Park, mid-September, so it was comfortable outside. The sun was getting low, causing a golden sky to reach overhead. I had been here all day, and was beginning to feel defeated.

I hadn’t sold as much as one print. One painting.

After staring at the crowds for another twenty-minutes, I finally decided to start packing up. It was a long bus ride back to Queens, and I would be too cold after dark.

Stuffing a handful of my prints into my portfolio bag, I huffed at myself, shaking my head.

Maybe it was time to go home. Maybe being an artist just wasn’t where I fit. Maybe I did need to reconsider college. It wasn’t too late. Twenty-six was an easy age, right?

“Is this all you?”

A sharp, deep voice snapped me out of my thoughts, making me spin on my heel, to see who was standing at my booth, scanning the pieces set up on the table.

The first thing I noticed was how tall he was. He had at least a foot of height on me. I noticed next that he was covered everywhere in tattoos. The long expanse of his arms that led to the bit of his chest I could see behind his tank top was littered. It made my mouth dry.

His hair was short, hidden under a ball cap, sunglasses perched on his nose.

It took me a moment of staring before I realized he had asked me a question.

“Oh, uh,” I walked back to the table, standing directly in front of him. “yeah these are my works.”

He nodded, looking down at the table and flipping fingers through the prints.

“I like them. They’re different.”

I gave my best ‘please buy this’ smile, and nodded.

“Thank you. I just paint what I feel. It helps me deal.”

He smirked. “I get that.” His eyes came back up to my face. “Not the painting. I can’t do that. But having something to help you deal? I get that.”

That’s interesting. “Yeah? What do you use to deal?”

He flashed his teeth at me. “Music.”

Oh, brother. A musician. Any awe I was feeling was dissolving. I had yet to meet one that was worth his salt in anything, let alone carrying a tune.

“Ah, well, different animal, same results?” I tried not to sound disinterested.

“How much for the prints?”

I felt my lungs tighten. Money?!

“Ten, but it’s two for eighteen.”

He smirked. “What would a hundred get me?”

If I had not caught it quick enough, my eyes would have bugged out of my head. I stifled a cough to cover up my surprise.

“Uh,” I looked around. No one had purchased one hundred dollars of my work before. Not all at once. “Seven prints? Or four prints and a canvas or two? Depends on size.”

I pointed to the side of my table, there I had a cardboard box full of canvases. He glanced over, and turned so he could see better.

With a ‘hmph’, he squatted down and looked through them, nodding at some, disregarding others.

Eventually, he came back up and had two smaller canvases perched in his hands.

A painting I had done of ravens when I was sat in a cemetery one day for inspiration, and one of a dark room that held a single bright red wood chair. That had come to me in a dream.

“Okay, and I’ll take these four prints.” He handed me the laminated copies and gave me a sweet, polite smile.

“Sounds good, it’ll be a hundred even.”

“Can you take card?” My face fell. I couldn’t handle my rent and groceries, let alone a card reader.

He must have noticed, because he raised his eyebrows.

“Got Zelle?”

I nodded, pulling my phone out, a rush of relief washing over me. I gave him my phone number, and he pulled me up, transferring a cool one hundred dollars into my account. My stomach flipped. I was halfway to rent with my borrowed cash, and I still had two weeks before it was due.

It was the first shred of hope I had felt in a while.

“Noah!” A male voice called before a shorter man bounded up, and my eyes popped open.

Nick Folio, the drummer from Bad Omens, stood in front of my table, and I just about fell over with a stroke.

My mouth was hung open, in pure disbelief. It hadn’t even occurred to me who he had called for.

Folio held a plastic bag, having clearly grabbed something else from another table.

“There’s a guy selling homemade lures, dude. I bought six!” His teeth flashed in excitement, and my customer shook his head, smiling.

“You’re going to go broke buying those things.”

It was in that moment it dawned on me. That voice. Those tattoos. Those sinfully long fingers…

“Are you Noah Sebastian?” My words came out rushed, before I could stop them.

A sly grin fell over his lips. “Never heard of him.” He smoothly turned around, preparing to leave. “Thanks for the artwork.”

Folio gave me a small wave before following Noah. I was frozen.

I just met one half of Bad Omens. I had sold artwork to Noah Sebastian. He liked my art. I couldn’t breathe.

It took me a solid ten minutes before I could move, then packing my things and heading for the bus with my bag and box in arms, glancing around the park a few times for a familiar ball cap and forbidden fruit tattoo.

-

Nine days have passed since I unexpectedly met Noah Sebastian and Nick Folio, and it had been heavy on my mind until the stress of my rent became the reason I was laying awake at night.

With no other real resolve, my hunt for another nine-to-five not getting very far, I found myself trekking back to Central Park, ready to set up another table. I had fresh prints, and a dozen new canvasses to hopefully sell.

Now that we had crossed the threshold into October, the air was becoming more brisk. Today, I had elected to wear a floor-length forest green skirt with a white crop top, my black zip hoodie keeping my arms warm.

Today was more lively, giving me the opportunity to sell six prints and four canvasses by noon. I had made my rent, and was working on the power bill next. I had slightly raised my prices, given my circumstances, but I justified it with the need to survive.

Did I expect to run into him again? Not at all. In fact, I had convinced myself that my once in a lifetime chance to meet him had passed, and I should be excited about it. I was a Bad Omens fan, and had been since their second album. Their style of music was absolutely cathartic for me, giving me inspiration on more than one occasion while painting.

So, imagine my surprise, when I heard the same deep, smooth voice while I was reorganizing my canvasses.

“Back again?” This time, he wore a hoodie, beanie over his hair, and no sunglasses. His eyes were so big, so brown. I wanted to stare at them for hours.

I snorted. “Me? I could say the same to you?”

He leaned his hand on the table, smiling down at where I was crouched in front of my box.

“Selling a lot?”

Triumphantly grinning, I stood up, leaning my palms on the table. “Actually, yeah. It’s been weird. Central Park isn’t normally a hot spot for me, but today has been great!”

There was a flash of thirty-two stunning teeth, and I held myself upright.

“Maybe the word is spreading?”

“Maybe. Going to buy anything today?”

Raising a row, he scanned the table, tapping on one print. “This one is nice. How much?”

“Fifteen.”

His head snapped up, bewildered look on his face.

“It was ten last week?”

A sheepish blush crept over my face, and I tried to be sweet, brushing some of my loose hair behind my ear.

“Yeah, uh,” I couldn’t look right at him. “I had to raise the price a little. Living cost’s a bitch.” I shrugged.

He looked absolutely amused. “I see.” He pulled his phone out, and began tapping at something I couldn’t see. Afterwards, he picked up the print he chose, and gave me a two finger salute.

“Thanks a lot, Red.”

I smirked, feeling the phone vibrate in my pocket. I ignored it for now and approached a young couple who had walked over to my table. I did, however, watch as Noah left, making his way straight out of the park, not stopping at any other tables.

Finally home, I flopped down on my bed, and let my eyes fall closed for just a moment. I had called it early, feeling exuberant and deciding I deserved an afternoon to just relax, not painting, not trying to find a job, just snacking and watching Netflix.

Slipping my phone out of my pants pocket, I sat up, seeing some missed messages and scrolling through my notifications.

When I came to the last one, I nearly dropped my phone.

Zelle Notification: Noah Davis sent you $100.

My jaw dropped. He only bought one print. Why would he give me so much? He must have done it by mistake.

I bit my lip, bothered. I felt guilty, as if I had stolen the money from him. People were generous, but no one was that generous...right?

Staring at my Zelle account, I took a deep breath, and tapped on the transaction, pulling up the details. My finger hovered over Noah's name, wondering if I'd just get his email. After counting three calculated breaths, I finally tapped it, and a phone number flashed under the name.

Oh God, I had Noah Sebastian's phone number.

It was me being a good samaritan that caused me to pull up a text thread, and begin typing a message. The voice in the back of my head screamed at me that I could just sent eighty-five dollars back, and not invade his privacy by texting him.

But...

Me: Noah?

After hitting send, I physically tossed my phone on the mattress, and pulled my knees up to my chest, breathing erratic. I sat in absolute silence, waiting. Each passing second made my soul fall. What if it wasn't his personal cell he used for Zelle? He was a somewhat celebrity, after all. Would he really just casually give his number out to a random girl in the park?

My phone chimed, and I thought my carotid was going to blow out of my neck. Shaking fingers lifted the phone.

Noah: Who is this?

No confirmation of identity, but the number worked.

I went to type a response, telling him who I was, until I realized I never gave him my name. Sure, I had signed my art, but my signature was decently illegible.

Chewing my lip, I wracked my brain for the right response.

Me: Red.

The text bubbles had turned blue, and I saw he had received and read the message, but his type signal hadn't come up yet.

I was insane, I had to be.

Noah: LOL you mean Lily?

My blood ran cold.

Me: How do you know my name?

Noah: Well, much like my own, your Zelle tells me your first and last name.

I felt like such a moron. Of course it did.

Me: Oh, LOL yeah I didn't think of that.

I typed out another message, before I forgot.

Me: You sent me too much for that print!

Noah: No I didn't.

Me: You did. You sent me $100.

Me: I can send back $85.

Noah: Don't you dare.

This made me pause, already on the Zelle screen, his message flashing as a banner on top, making my fingers halt.

Me: Noah, I can't take that from you for one print.

Noah: ...because...?

Me: Because it's way too much! I appreciate it, but I'm not comfortable with that.

He waited a few minutes, his type bubble appearing and disappearing a few times.

Noah: So I'll buy something else from you, then.

I rolled my eyes.

Me: What would you like?

Noah: You have a portfolio online?

I sighed, embarrassed. My online presence was close to nonexistent. I had an Instagram, with all of five photos on it, and they were all four months old. I didn't have a website, not having the money to create one yet.

Me: I don't, I'm sorry.

Noah: Studio I can check out?

I stared at the screen, and laughed loudly. Oh, I've got a studio alright. Just not what he's thinking of.

Me: Not exactly. I'm a very small artist. I do all of my work out of my apartment.

Noah: Which is where?

My heart sunk. No way. Not letting him in my four hundred square foot, paint covered, disarrayed apartment.

Me: Queens.

I stayed vague.

Noah: Oh yeah, I'm over in Central Park West right now.

I sighed, relieved, and slightly disappointed.

Me: I can send you some pictures of my work? I'll just need a few to take them.

Noah: Can you just FaceTime? Seems faster.

How on Earth did we get here? I was going to FaceTime with a rockstar, and show him my paintings? This couldn't be real life.

Me: Sure. Call when you're ready.

I walked over to the corner of my studio that I kept my completed works in, a sheet thrown over the large canvas in an attempt protect the paint from the sun rays. I had yet to take that one anywhere yet. I hadn't found the right venue to sell.

After about five minutes, my phone began vibrating in my hand, and I looked down to see his name flashing.

My heart was beating so frantically, I was sure it would disconnect and come out of my throat.

I swiped the call open, and held the camera at the most flattering angle I could. Once the call connected, he sat on what appeared to be a staircase, somewhere outside, same beanie on his head from earlier, and was smiling into the camera.

"Hey!"

His enthusiasm surprised me, and I waved nervously, smiling back at him.

"Hi."

"Why do you look so uneasy? Are you being held hostage or something?"

My face fell, wildly confused by his comment. "What?"

His laugh echoed through the receiver, which made this weird jittery thing happen in my stomach.

"I'm just joking. You just look uncomfortable." He pulled his beanie down more, and I swallowed dryly, trying to giggle.

"Oh, yeah. No I'm good."

He sat back, elbow resting on the step behind him. "You sure?"

I felt like we weren't getting past this point. "Can I be honest?"

He didn't respond, just gestured for me to continue.

"I'm a fan. A big fan. So, yeah, I'm a little nervous."

His smile could've illuminated a small town.

"Oh yeah?" He ran a hand over his face. "Don't be. I'm just a guy."

Feeling rebellious, I rolled my eyes. "Yeah. A guy who hundreds of thousands of girls would kill to FaceTime with."

This made him blush, so he looked down. "Ah, I don't know about that."

I decided to press my luck. "I do."

He furrowed his brow, smirking. "Oh yeah? So you're just that lucky, huh?"

This made me grin, in near disbelief. "Ah, the great Noah Sebastian. Cocky, huh?"

This made him laugh again, to which I joined.

"Nah. Like, I said, I'm just a guy. Really cool to know you're a fan, though." I nodded in response. "Ever seen us live?"

I shook my head. "Cost of living's a bitch. You think I can afford concert tickets?"

He shrugged. "Fair enough, dude."

"Anyways, you want me to show you the artwork?"

He agreed, and I flipped the camera around, scanning through the various pieces I had out in the corner. At his request, I would get closer to a piece, or pull it up to the camera. I watched as his eyes would get close to the phone, analyzing each canvas.

"I really like the desert painting." He was referring to a painting I had done that was slightly more abstract of a desert with random melted items such as longhorn skulls, cacti, and pieces of driftwood. They melted into the sand below.

"Okay. That would bring your total with the print earlier to fifty, since this one is bigger."

He nodded. "Do you have anything for fifty even?"

Biting my lip, I scanned my eyes, landing on a painting I had of a black cat, perched on the edge of a pond, cleaning it's paw, a skeletal hand reaching out of the water for it. The painting was done in nearly all neon colors, which was different for me.

"This one." I held it up in the camera.

"Oh dude, that's fucking sick." He pulled back from the camera. "I'll take it."

I chuckled. "Okay, do you want me to ship them?"

I flipped the camera back around, and he raised an eyebrow at me. "To Central Park West?"

I shrugged. "I could."

"Nah. I can get them from you. I don't live in New York and I leave back home for LA this weekend."

This made my chest sink only a little. "Right, I can ship them there if you want?"

He shook his head. "Let's meet up and I can get them?" I hesitated to respond, and I swear I saw a flash of concern on his face. "Unless you've got plans or something."

This made me smirk. "We didn't even say when? How would I know if I had plans?"

He huffed out a laugh, grabbing his beanie off of his head and smiling. "Sorry, you're right."

"When do you want to meet?"

"Tonight? I'm busy most of the week, but I'd really like to get my stuff soon."

Pondering this, I sat down on my bed, back to my art corner. "Where?"

"There's an Italian restaurant near my hotel. We can get dinner?"

I'm going to dinner with Noah fucking Sebastian?!

"Sure. Just text me the address?" He nodded in response. "What time?"

"Whatever time works best for you, Red."

I rolled my eyes. "You know my name, Noah."

A small wink, and he smiled. "I know, Lily. I just like your hair."

My face turned a deep shade of crimson, and I felt the urge to pull at my long red waves.

"Well, if that's the plan, I'm going to get ready. I have to leave a while before you to catch the subway."

I stood off the bed and went to turn, but he spoke and stopped me.

"Hey, what's that behind you?"

I turned, scanning. "What?"

"Under the sheet."

It occurred to me what he was referring to, and I waved it off.

"Just another piece."

"Can I see it?"

I shook my head. "Nah, I haven't shown anyone yet."

"So? I can be the first!" He seemed so excited, which made me giggle.

"It's an emotion piece. Not like the others."

He raised a brow. "Still not hearing why I can't see it."

Biting the inside of my cheek, I shrugged. "Alright, but don't get too excited. It's not as clean and precise as my other work."

He just shrugged, and I reached over, pulling the sheet off the canvas, and flipped the camera.

I watched his eyes, scanning the screen over and over. He looked so enamored, I was confused. Was the connection bad?

"Noah? You okay?"

He leaned back, blinking. "Lily, that's fucking amazing!"

I laughed, stepping closer to the painting. "It's okay. It's a rage painting. Something I started in a fit, and kind of worked into what it is now."

"I can tell. You can feel the pain in the image. The colors are unbelievable."

"Oh, I don't know. It's okay."

"Okay? Red, that painting is unreal. How much do you want for it?"

His question caught me by surprise, nearly knocking me down. "What?"

"How much? I want it." He was so matter of fact, that the air rushed out of me.

"I haven't priced it. It's a big piece, bigger than anything else I've ever done."

"Okay, well tell me what you think, because I'll pay a lot for it."

My heart began stammering, words not forming on my lips. "Y-You really want it?"

"I don't just want it; I want to use it."

I was confused. "What do you mean?"

"I'll tell you at dinner. Just do me a favor? Think about a price? I really want that painting."

-

We agreed to meet at 7PM, but I was late. The subway had been packed, and I missed the first one. I didn't come jogging up to the front of the restaurant until fifteen after, seeing Noah stood outside, same outfit on as earlier today. I had to calm my insides at the sight.

I waved when he caught a glimpse of me, earning a smile in my direction.

"Hey, Red!"

I rolled my eyes. He wasn't letting that go.

"Hi, Noah."

When I approached, he put an arm out, and wrapped it around my shoulders casually. I had to take several deep breaths to remind myself that, like he said, he's just a guy.

An attractive guy. With tattoos. And the voice of an angel.

And this wasn't a date...right? This was a transaction...right?!

Trying to shake off the thoughts, I handed him the bag on my arm.

"Your goodies."

He smiled and took the bag, looking inside. "Nice. Thank you."

I followed him into the restaurant, which didn't look too terribly fancy. We were dressed casually, as were most people here. We were sat at a small table, a little dish with butter and rolls already in the middle.

We sat down, and began scanning the menus. The prices jumped out at me as relatively expensive, and I knew I would be taking my work out again tomorrow to make back the money I would be spending tonight.

Noah ordered a beer. I ordered water.

Noah ordered a steak with linguine on the side. I ordered a salad.

This caught his attention. "You don't want more than a salad and water?"

I hid behind my glass, shrugging. "Not the most hungry."

"Hm," He sat back and eyed me. "okay. For now."

The fuck does that mean?

"So have you given any more thought to how much you want for that painting?" He spoke before I could respond.

"I haven't. I really don't know, Noah." I shook my head, thinking. "Three hundred?"

His eyes widened. "No way, man. It's worth way more."

I was dumbstruck. "Are you asking me to charge you more?"

"Fuck yeah I am. That painting is worth ten grand, at the very least."

As badly as I wanted not to, and prayed I hadn't, I spit my water out onto the table, spraying my salad. My face immediately turned bright red, matching my hair.

"Excuse me?!"

He seemed very unfazed. "What?"

"Did you say ten grand? As in ten thousand?" He nodded. "Dollars?!"

He rolled his eyes. "No. Marshmallows."

Without thought, I picked up a cherry tomato and tossed it at him, bouncing it off of his hand on his plate. He glanced up at me, mouth open, amused.

"Did you just throw a tomato at me?"

I pressed my lips together in a very small, devious grin. "Maybe."

He picked up the tomato between two long fingers, considered it for a moment, and popped it in his mouth.

"I've never had that happen. And I'm a singer."

This made me laugh. "Oh God."

He wiped his mouth on his napkin. "Seriously, though, Red. You need to price your stuff fairly. Don't accept less than what you're worth."

I leaned back in my chair, considering this. "So, you want to pay me ten thousand for my painting?"

He shook his head. "I don't." My heart sunk for a second. "My label will, though."

My eyebrows shot up. "Pardon? The label?"

He was chewing some steak, and waited to swallow before he responded. I found myself staring at the apple on his throat bobbing.

"I want that painting to be our next album cover."

I felt my jaw physically hit the floor, break through the table and all. I was hallucinating.

"You...what?"

"I've been looking for months. I had been looking at photography until very recently, because I just wasn't finding anything that worked. I started scouting art fairs and galleries almost a year ago."

My eyes were blinking at an alarming rate.

"So, that's why you came to Central Park twice, then."

He smirked, lifting the beer bottle to his lips. "That's why I came to your table twice, yes."

I was pushing my salad around on the plate, not looking at him. "Ah, and here I was thinking you came back to see me." I looked up and gave him the cheekiest smile I could, joking.

Snorting, he flashed his teeth again. "Well, that too."

My stomach stuttered, and I set my fork down. I folded my arms on the table, looking straight at him.

"You're serious? You really want my painting for the album?"

He put his hands in his sweater pockets and leaned forward, so his face was hovering over the table.

"I'm dead serious." His tongue slipped over his bottom lip, catching my attention. "There's more to it than just buying it. We'd have to purchase rights from you, so you can't sell copies."

I raised a brow, now intrigued. "Oh?"

He leaned back again. "I don't want anyone else having our original piece that you did. We would, of course, credit you on the album, and maybe even ask you to do some additional work for the rest of the art?"

There was a lump in my throat I couldn't swallow. "Rest of the art?"

"Yeah. The back of the album. The vinyl casing and variants. Merch, maybe?"

I couldn't breathe. It was so hot all of a sudden.

Noah could sense my panic. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to overwhelm you."

I gulped down half of my water at once. "No, I just..." I trailed off, staring at the tablecloth. "I've never had anyone want my artwork that bad."

He smiled. "Isn't the point to sell it? Success?"

"Well sure, but to go from selling prints and small canvasses in the parks to doing artwork for a huge band like Bad Omens? That's a bit of a step." I stared at him, trying to mask my anxiety, and failing horribly.

"I don't know if I'd call us huge." His smirk was coy, and I rolled my eyes.

"Wow. Cocky." I echoed my earlier statement, and this made him giggle like a child.

"Listen, think about it? In the meantime, can I ask a favor?" I didn't respond. "Don't sell any copies of that? Once you do, I can't use it."

I shrugged, and nodded, agreeing.

-

Two weeks had gone by, and I had not seen Noah since the night at the restaurant. I had re-covered the canvas, but the question replayed in my mind over and over.

Noah had decided to buy more pieces off of me, bringing my profits up to six hundred, which had my utilities paid this month and a small batch of groceries in the refrigerator. I agreed to ship them as soon as I could, but he kept telling me to take my time.

I knew what he really wanted to ask, but he held back.

I had thought about it over and over, trying hard to not let my bias toward Noah, or the bad, sway me.

This was a big step. Not owning my own art? Being pressured to make more that met a standard? Being under a contract? That wasn't what I got into this for. This wasn't why I became an artist and moved here. One of the best parts about creating something that you love, is that you get to do it freely. Once you have to do it, or do it a certain way, it becomes all too tedious. It's work now. I wasn't sure I'd be happy with it.

But on the flipside, there was a strange thrill at the idea. Someone wants my painting bad enough that they are willing to give me so much leeway financially, I can paint whenever I want. I'll get exposure. This could be what does it.

This painting could change everything.

And that was the point, right? I bought the canvas telling myself that this was the piece that changed it all. This was my ticket to success. And here it was, in front of me...

Ripping the sheet off of the canvas, I stared at it. The waves crashed over one another. The moon, bright, but somehow so ominous, shone through, bouncing off of the water in a way that made them look almost silver. The octopus, tentacles scattered amongst the waves, stared at me, bleeding eyes seeing through my soul.

"Is this what I'm supposed to do?" I asked the creature. I was met with silence. Loud, deafening, overwhelming silence.

"Fuck it."

I picked up my phone from the bed, bringing up my recent text thread with Noah, smiling at the meme he had sent earlier in the day.

I typed out a quick message, and sighed when I saw he read it quickly, and responded even quicker.

Me: I'm in.

Noah: Oh FUCK yeah!

-

Six months ago, I met Noah Sebastian for the first time, and he bought some of my art for a hundred dollars. Five and a half weeks ago, he bought more of my art for a hundred more dollars.

Five months ago exactly, his record label offered me twelve thousand dollars for my painting, and the rights to it, and offered me a contract to complete and provide artwork for all pieces surrounding their upcoming album, with an overall gross value of eighty-two thousand dollars to be paid up front, with the understanding that I would provide the artwork within one year of the contract signing.

Naturally, I was a mess.

Still living in my studio apartment, I had rented a painting studio six blocks from my apartment, and spent near all of my time there. I had completed the entire album artwork, maintaining the theme of the original piece, but adding in major twists in each installment.

So far, the label, the band, and mostly Noah, were pleased.

But today, I was stressed. There was one insert in the vinyl copy of the album that needed artwork. It needed a standalone piece, and I was drawing a vivid blank. I had been staring at the 3 foot by 2 foot canvas for two hours, paintbrush twirling between my paint-stained fingers. My old, ratted jeans were blotched with deep blue paint from my last attempt, which had been scrapped.

I was getting nowhere way too fast, and needed a break. I stood from my stool, and pulled my t-shirt off, standing in only my dark red sports bra to fight against the heat. I kept it warm in the studio to keep the paint from hardening in the palette.

Pacing back and forth, music pumping through my Bluetooth speaker, I sighed. I needed emotion. I needed something to throw at this damn thing, like before.

My phone quieted the music for a moment, and I snatched it to check.

Noah: In town this weekend. Want to get lunch?

As badly as I wanted to, I just couldn't.

Me: I can't. Trying to get this piece done.

Noah: Want me to bring you food? Can't paint on an empty stomach.

Considering this, I pursed my lips. He wasn't wrong.

I responded with the address to the studio.

Forty-five minutes later, and Noah was pushing his way into the small studio, bags of Chinese in his hands. I was sat on the stool, still staring at the blank canvas, twirling my brush, and didn't even look at him.

"Hey!" He set the bags down on the table on the far side of the room. "You haven't started yet?"

A hard, deep growl came out of me, and I chucked my brush at the ground, hearing it clatter. I stood, fingers gripping my hair at the root.

He threw his hands up. "Woah, it's okay! I wasn't trying to say anything to upset you."

I took a deep breath, letting go of my mop of hair. "You didn't. I'm just drawing such a fucking blank! I can't figure out what to paint for this insert!"

He tightened his lips, putting his hands in his jean pockets.

"What usually helps?"

"Anger! And I've got plenty! But I've still got fucking nothing!" My foot kicked the stool, sliding it several feel away.

He took a step forward, toward me, hands coming out in front of him.

"Okay, so anger isn't working. Any other emotions we can use?"

I raised an eyebrow, halting my pacing. "What do you mean?" My words were sharp, and he cracked an amused smile.

"You're a real fireball, clearly, Red. But, do you have other emotions we can channel?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Of course I have other emotions."

"Like?"

Suddenly feeling cornered, I squeezed my eyes closed, breathing deeply.

"I don't know." I looked up at him. "Sadness? Depression?"

He snickered. "Why all negative emotions?"

"What?"

"Why not joy? Enthusiasm? Excitement?" He looked so genuine, it almost hurt my heart, because I was so angry and it wasn't his fault.

I paced over to the stool, coming down with a screech against the floor. "Sorry." I confessed. "This is just hard to do under pressure, you know?"

He nodded, standing next to me, a soft hand coming down on my mid-back, rubbing slow circles on my bare skin.

"I get it. More than most, I think." I looked up at him. "But if what you're used to isn't working, then we have to do something different."

I scrubbed a hand over my face, and smiled weakly. "How?"

He pursed his lips, and his hand came under my arm, pulling me up from the stool. "Grab your brush."

Opting for a fresh one, I held it in front of me, and waited for further instruction.

He smiled, and put both hands on my shoulders, pulling me toward the easel and canvas. I followed absently, trying not to focus on my skin tingling where he was touching me.

"Okay," He moved behind me, pushing me closer to the canvas. "pick a color."

I chuckled, and leaned over to the palette to my right, picking up a deep navy on my brush.

Satisfied, he squeezed my biceps for a second before letting his hands fall away.

"Now, close your eyes."

I turned my head to look at him skeptically, but his eyes pleaded with me, so I obeyed, holding my loaded brush and letting my lids fall closed.

The room fell impossibly quiet, and I could feel his presence heavy behind me. The sensation brought goosebumps to my warm skin.

I was nearly startled when I felt his fingers brush my thick hair over my shoulder, and his breath came across my ear.

"Now," His voice was baritone, so raspy and so close to me. "I want you to picture what you're feeling at this very moment."

Feeling? What is feeling? Who am I ?

"Picture your emotions. Picture them as colors. Objects. Lights." He let out a deep exhale that washed over my neck, making me shiver.

"What if I can't?" My voice was small.

A large, strong hand grasped my right hip, pulling me to lean slightly backward, pressing against the front of his body.

"You can. I know you can."

The fingers of his other and were trailing up my hip, tracing patters over the tattoos on my ribcage.

"You know how to do this, Lily. Just see what you feel."

I wanted to push this. I wanted to see how far I could take it.

Eyes still closed, I let my lips turn up ever so slightly. "What if I can't feel enough, yet?"

His chest, pressed against my back, trembled with quiet laughter, "No? You need more stimulation?"

Jesus this guy's is going to murder me.

"Maybe." I smiled slyly.

His lips ghosted over the side of my neck just under my ear, his hand on my hip slipping around the front of my waist and pulling me even closer.

"What if I," His lips trailed up my skin, grazing the flesh so gently. "give you," Up to my chin. My breath was shaking. "something to feel?"

His lips were testing mine, tip of his nose bumping my own.

The lowest, most whispered moan escaped my lips before he dipped even lower, gently pressing his lips against mine. I molded to him, body encased by his arms, lips slotting into place against his, eyes rolling back behind my lids.

The feeling exploded out of me, pouring into his mouth, hands reaching up to grip his hair.

We stood there, mouths fighting for dominance, before I pulled away, pushing his hands off of me frantically, and nearly jumped toward the canvas.

I heard him breathing heavily behind me, a low chuckle erupting from him.

"I guess it worked?"

I stopped my brush strokes, turning my head and letting my hair flip over my shoulder.

"For now. Might need more stimulation later."

#fanfic #bad omens #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian #noah sebastian fic #bad omens cult

[beatrixstonehill2]

"Sooooo, guess who went to college and forgot to pack her hrt? Oops. I know, I've been gone a while (everyone who guessed exactly what I did, kudos!) and finally I'm OK talking about it because it worked out suuuuper well tbh. As many of you know I started transitioning back in junior high, I was on blockers and started estrogen in high school. My mom prepared all my meds. I went to college and was so excited to join a sorority and live the college dream of being a sorority girl! Lots of parties, lots of drinking, lots of sex! All day every day.... between the occasional lesson. Maybe! But after a few months I noticed things were really off. I tried not to overthink it, but eventually realized the huge mistake I made.

Since my mom prepared my hormones I barely thought about it. She told me to take them in the morning and night. Without home, without her, the routine stopped existing. Soooo, yeah. There I was looking sexy, my huge boobs ready to be ravaged by all kinds of guys and girls.... And I loved it! For the first two months I chalked my heightened libido to the new experience of college and had sex constantly! But before long my body started to change. My voice started cracking. My cock grew like six inches, it was insane! And by month three my facial hair came in. My body was just soooo eager to become male.

My sorority sisters thankfully saw this happen loads of times. Every year there's some perfectly passing trans girl sporting HH-Cup tits or bigger who forgets her meds and winds up detransitioning. Like clockwork. I protested and said I just needed to go back on them, get my script refilled. I called my mom and she laughed, saying she threw it out because she figured I didn't want it anymore. That being a girl mustn't be that important to me after all. I panicked, asking the nurse on campus that day. She said what's done is done. I was in male puberty. I asked about blockers and she laughed too, telling me my body was giving me a very clear signal about who I was supposed to be. She said blockers would stunt my new puberty but it would always be in motion now. My voice, my facial hair, all of this was unavoidable at this point, it'd worsen even on blockers or estrogen. She recommended I fully detrans for a year, then see if I want to retransition after all the changes.....

By the end of that year all I wanted was my boobs removed. I used to love having big tits but now they only made me dysphoric. And they were growing hair so that didn't help. I hit the gym, got really buff, was obviously kicked out of the sorority for being male, then joined the frat. Finally! I totally accepted I was male. No more shyly discussing sex and going out in embarrassing dresses with my boobs hanging out. With other guys I could talk about my darkest, most perverse fantasies as we worked out and they'd just call it hot as fuck, not judge me as some silly perverted fakegirl. Instead of getting fucked and passed around like a cheap slut, now I was fucking pregnant girls with huge asses bloated up by partying and a diet of only beer and pizza. It was pure bliss getting to mount and fuck all these gorgeous girls I used to be so jealous of. Now they were beneath me and the rest of the frat. They weren't goals or anything to aspire to, they were drunken fuckmeat with a womb full of kids to slap around.

My favorite part is when I encounter a fakegirl and start fucking her estrogen-fattened ass. I'll pump her cock and tell her right in her ear how much I want to see her detrans, how much I want to pump her full of T and see her girly body become a man's like it's meant to be. I tell them this and their knees all buckle. They can be the prettiest, most passing trans girl on the planet, with huge breasts and a gorgeous face. If I'm pumping her ass telling her how much I want to forcibly detransition her she'll get hard as iron and moan so loud out of nowhere, her body shaking. She'll always tell me to keep going, to tell her how badly she needs to accept reality and be a boy. All fakegirls fantasize about detransing. In fact, what I've learned is the most beautiful trans girls that pass the best, started gender affirming care the youngest, and have the sexiest feminine bodies, secretly fantasize about detransing the most..... I miiiight have convinced about six girls to detrans just this year alone so far, with my cock pumping their ass, and my hand jerking their cock..... Leaving behind my hrt was the best mistake I ever made. So happy my family didn't bother calling me and just happily let me detrans obliviously on my own. ❤️"

#detrans kink #mtf detrans kink #mtftm kink

[luffyrose]

Hold for the Prince - DPxDC Fic to Be

As a quick note before this, I was asking my sister for help naming this prompt/fic and before I could even finish speaking she had gone;

"Felix."

With such confidence that I will now have to somehow get the name in this fic at some point XD

ANYWAY, onto the snippet of the fic I promised for today while I get back on track with my writing overall!

~~~ TW; Death, heavily implied gore, and all the fun stuff that comes with vivisecting a teenager! ~~~

It had been going so well.

Sitting nervously at the table, Danny’s hands tightened, hidden from his parent’s worried few. He opened his mouth, it dry and only a choked noise came out before he shut it with an audible click.

“Baby, I know we say you can tell us anything...and...I know we haven’t been the most, no, we haven’t been very present in a while now. Jazz helped us see that recently. I digress, but you don’t need to tell us anything hunny.”

He could almost laugh at the pure love he could hear in her voice. A part of him had been so close, so so close, to giving up on them. Then Jazz finally got through to the two. Finally, they paused in their obsessive work to look back toward them. The Fenton parents’ had finally turned back to look at their children. Those two little kids who’d gotten so much bigger, so much older, as they ran after ghosts. It had been a shock for them both to truly see their children so big and the entire week after they’d ignored multiple ghosts in turn of being there for them.

They’d even begun to listen.

Danny’s shaking eyes slowly rolled sideways, meeting the cold stare of his mothers.

It was just a few words. He could just say it. Just get it over with. Looking down at the hand that slowly gripped his own, he stared at the familiar nail polish of his sister. She’d promised to protect him, even if their parents didn’t agree. He didn’t want her to ever have to make that choice, but the words and gentle rub on his back had sent him to tears the night before.

Raising his hand slowly, shaky, he tried to reach outward. Tears burned his eyes, a horrible feeling of suffocating enveloping his throat as he-

“Dann-o, we’re here for you buddy! You tell us when you’re ready!”

Maddie nodded with a gentle file along with her husband. She’d never wanted to become like her own father, so enveloped in his work he never truly was her father, and maybe it stung just a bit to think that her kids probably felt at least some of what she’d known as a child.

“Just like the ghosts. It was...a lapse in judgment to believe they were all mindless, though I still believe those like the Wisconsin ghost are beyond evil with the idea that they do have true emotions. Truly, what insane-”

A cough from Jazz had their mother falling silent, a slightly sheepish smile on her face as she dropped it, instead looking back fully at Danny.

“Mom...Dad...I’m-”

His hands shook. Even the gentle pressure of his sister’s hands in his didn’t prevent it.

“Do you, remember when I got the portal working?”

Jack tilted his head, a clear sign of confusion from their brilliant yet simple father. However, Maddie’s face paled. It had been a secret that he’d...died...but it was impossible to hide the symptoms it brought. Even if he could barely remember his mother sitting beside his bed with a gentle hand running through his head as the initial aftershocks wore off...

“I didn’t actually- I, um...”

The words just wouldn’t leave his throat, the choked feeling coming back tenfold from earlier. It seemed as though the meaning began to come across however, both of their parents were much more somber and worried as they glanced at one another. Looking quickly away, he could feel the temperature drop, the way his fingertips were coated with frost. Quickly letting go of Jazz’s hand, he clenched his hands together between his legs. Whether this went well or bad, he refused to let his lack of control over his own emotions harm his sister.

“It may have...um, killed me...”

Now the cold of the room wasn’t from his own ice, but the silence. His voice was weak, terrified sounding he knew, but he quickly fought the wavering of his voice and continued.

“The electricity and ectoplasm both killed me and saved me, and I was really really lucky to not just die or become a full ghost or-” his breath caught, stuttering as his panic took over “-I became what they call a Halfa, half human half ghost and then things just all happened and you all were-”

A hand landed on his shoulder, causing him to tense, closing his eyes tightly.

“Danny...I’m so so sorry.”

Snapping his eyes upward he found tears. Both his parents were crying. Shakily reaching up toward their face, his mom’s other hand gently took his own.

“We never- oh my god, Danny- we never even knew, never noticed...I’m so so sorry, how could you ever stay when-”

Her voice was wet with emotion, arms quickly wrapping around him, much larger ones joining quickly as well. All tension left him as he felt his own chest shake from a sob. Surprised at his own crying, he let his parents hug him, let their warmth, regret, and sorrow just envelop him. It was so much to feel it all at once, but everything felt so real. His fears were unfounded, his pain recognized...his anger rewarded. Danny felt almost wrong to find some joy in their sorrow, but it was easily overpowered by his own grief.

Things would get better.

-tried to reach for his mother. Her body slumped in a pool of her own blood. He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t cry...he couldn’t even scream.

Things had been going so well.

His parents had accepted him and had worked with him and the ghosts. They had listened and they had changed. For once he could relax. Yet things didn’t stay peaceful. The Observants nagged at him to come to the zone, to do what very few things he was required as the Prince of Ghosts. It was only a week in the zone. Just one.

He never would have left if he’d known what would have happened...never would have asked Jazz to come home a few days after he returned.

White hair stuck wet from his own blood, tears, and vomit to his own head. Eyes and arms still desperately aimed toward his mother, he didn’t dare to look toward her hand...toward the one laying loose within it. Danny couldn’t look at both of them, not when he was the reason they were now dead.

The GIW had learned of him.

It was the day he was planning to return, happily parting with the ghosts who’d agreed to leave the town alone for a few weeks so the family could mend. Stepping through the portal he’d been met with so many white suits he’d nearly missed his tied-up parents behind them all. Shaky eyes met his mother’s own.

“Danny run-!”

The words were lost on the boy as something struck him, electricity soaring through his feigns as a scream involuntarily left his throat.

He’d woken later to so much pain. The scientist were nothing like the agents. They didn’t fear getting dirty with his blood, didn’t panic at even the slightest gore as they tore him apart from the inside out. Didn’t’ blink as they simply slit his throat to stop his screams of pain and fear. How they simply decided that once enough pain was dealt with physically, they would continue to experiment while causing emotional pain.

Silent sobs escaped his trembling body, the hands that had been present within his open chest for what he was sure was at least the past few months finally nearing his core.

His parents had been locked away so near yet so far from him, being used to cause him pain. They’d finally decided to see what death would cause. The pure sorrow and distress his core reverberated finally gave them more of an area to search. Danny couldn’t even care about the nearing hands, trying so desperately for any strength to reach his parents. He wanted to be with them. Even if it meant dying, he didn’t want to be alone.

“...If this is the react ...... would it’s ‘friends’ or ..... Fenton girl cause .... solid read?...”

In an instant, his mind became clear, time feeling so slow as everything just changed. The air was cold, and he no longer felt himself shaking, not even his eyes despite the blurriness of his tears still present. It took him far too long to realize he was no longer on the table, far longer to realize he wasn’t actually in control. His mind pulled in on itself, begging him to fall into the much more comforting darkness than the harsh reality around him.

“G̷̡̡͇͆͋R̷͇̻̹͒̓͌A̷̭͋Ḁ̷̰̈��̈̍A̶̯͂̽G̸͇̜̚ͅḢ̶̡͠ͅ”

The loud echoey roar almost pulled him right back from the void he was falling into, and yet he only felt a harsher tug, slipping fully away.

A bright symbol appeared hastily on every available screen within the large meeting room. Silence enveloped it as the shape changed into a video, no noise coming through yet, but clear ongoing destruction present just outside a small town. Nobody spoke while waiting for the audio to come through, yet nobody had been ready for it either.

“G̷̡̡͇͆͋A̷̭͋Ḁ̷̰̈́̈̍R̷͇̻̹͒̓͌A̷̭͋Ḣ̶̡͠ͅ”

The deafening sound had many covering their ears, horrified by it. As the roar ended, a single voice spoke, shaking in what everybody could tell was dawning horror. The words only sparked distress in many.

“Bloody hell, it’s crying-”

~~~

I know that there's not really much DC present in this yet- BUT IT'S THERE! You could call this the prologue to the fic that it will one day become >:3c

As always I love hearing people thoughts or ideas so if you even just wanna say something small please do :D

#dp x dc #dc x dp #danny phantom #danny fenton #ghost king danny #jazz fenton #maddie fenton #jack fenton #jasmine fenton #dp #fenton family #I am remembering how much I hate trying to make sure I got the tags I need on these- #Local British man makes a semi-appearance #he was at the meeting for once and is horrified by the crying eldritch horror #especially because he can HEAR the sorrow and pain through a video

[tohisprettyc00l]

celebrating your birthday

A/n: It's nowhere near my birthday but whatever

Amity: It's been a while since she's had a real birthday party. She used to get mager ones when she was friends with Boscha. In retrospect that was probably to impress Boscha's parents. But enough about all that it's your big day. And with money (that she totally didn't steal from her mom) she wants to make sure that you have a great birthday. She takes you to any store you want. And then gets you your favorite food.

Luz: She loves birthday parties so much!!! She goes all out. There's a bunch of decorations. And if you like having more people there, all of her friends are there. Which we know is a fucking lot. If you don't want a lot of people that's okay. She buys your favorite cake. You only turn whatever age your turning once. And now I've at least alluded to Boscha two more times than I thought I would.

Willow: She's never been one that likes big crowds. And no matter how many people are on your part she'd feel kind of awkward. So she hosts a party that's just the two of you. On the plus side, it's more special. Also, her dads make you a cake <3.

Hunter: The FUCK is a birthday? Yeah, I think I've made it clear the Empoer's coven and the Empoer himself suck. Like doesn't even know what that word means. But once he finds out he's determined to give you a good one. Despite never being to or having one himself. And it's very all over the place, You have no cake but do have ice cream. Not sure how he managed to mess up the biggest part of the birthday. He's trying okay? Also the number of gifts he good you was absurd.

Vee: She kind of knows what birthdays are. A few kids had them at camp (Which was probably sad as fuck.) So while the general decorations are kinda dull. The gifts are great! Most (affordable) things you want you get. Though there are a few oddballs in there. Like she just got you a straight-up weapon.

Raine: Pretty good birthday. The happy birthday song is 10x more awkward. Because they have a beautiful singing voice. Thankfully they also are an awkward mess when it comes to stuff like that. So they probably won't sing it (if you don't when them to.) All of the gifts they get you are sweet.

Eda: Never trust Eda to throw a party, worst mistake of my life. There are so many different shows and gamed-themed plates it's insane. The presents don't make any sense. Like a book about how to get better at abominations, while your human ass is just sitting there confused as fuck. She starts laughing and then just straight up gives you 250 snails.

Emria: She bakes the cake herself (and almost burns the house down.) She's not great at the whole planning the party thing. But it is still an enjoyable experience! While the wrapping job might have been so bad that you could see the gifts, said gifts were still great. Is her lacking ability in making birthday parties just a her thing or is her mom also at the core of this? I don't know, you decide.

Edric: Dude was stressed. He wanted it to be perfect! But, just like his siblings, he had no clue what to do. I mean he'd had birthdays, but he's not known for excelling. And with his mom being Odaila there was no chance of him getting a proper birthday. Cue the googling! The birthday isn't very extravagant, despite his wealth. But it is a fun time. He did end up getting pin the tail on the donkey. So that's pretty fun.

The Collector: Any chance to throw a party is a chance he'll take! And it was about you? That's twice the fun. He can make you the biggest cake with just a snap of his finger, not sure how good it would taste but that's beside the point. Also, the presents are great, obviously. You guys have stereotypical "girls" birthday parties. You have a slumber party, eat pizza, play truth or dare, and stay up all night.

Lilith: She probably wouldn't do anything major for your party. A slice of a cake and a small gift or two. It's not that she doesn't care about you, she does a lot! She doesn't really celebrate her birthday. (Sorry boys it's not angst this time I just don't think she likes celebrating her birthday.)  That being said, if you want a bigger party she's not totally against the idea. But the only people she has the confidence to ask are Hooty, Luz, and Eda (King probably tagged along.) It's pretty hectic, as all things with the owl family are, but it's honestly the best birthday you've had.

Gus: Gus is almost the biggest overachiever out there (second only to Hunter.) So he's more than excessive. He takes all his past parties and parties he's been to and combines them into one big party. He invited Willow over to make sure it looked okay (bless her and the crap she has to deal with.) She tells Gus in the nicest way possible that you'd probably have a heart attack from all the colors. She quickly helped him fix everything up. When you do come over it's overall presentable. It's a far cry from what Gus had planned but it is chill.

#toh x reader #the owl house x reader #hunter x reader #golden gaurd x reader #collector x reader #the collector x reader #hunter toh x reader #amity x reader #luz x reader #the owl house #toh #toh hunter x reader #raine toh x reader #eda clawthorne x reader #edric blight x reader #eda x reader #edric x reader #amity blight x reade #amity blight x reader #lilith + reader #luz noceda x reader #lilith x reader #willow park x reader #willow toh x reader #raine whispers x reader #willow x reader #golden guard x reader #vee x reader #emria blight x reader #emira x reader

[pink-strawberry-kissess]

Having an older aeon son and baby aeon daughter vision

(I imagine Ada would go out of the US for her first child until she gets her name cleared and so that the child wouldn't have to deal with the load of shit going on with their parents and the government. But both kids meet eachother at different times)

So imagine older aeon son (around 17 maybe?) Meeting Leon for the first time, he's very closed with him, and wouldn't get along for a really long time.

Ps. He's totally a mama's boy,

Aeon daughter on the hand is the total opposite , she's always stuck to leon and is very much his princess.

But aeon son would be very protective over her once he meets her , and would take the responsibility of parenting her when he's asked to or left alone with her.

YA KNOW i wasn't a huge aeon son person but i kinda am warming up to it

oh aeon son would 100% wanna beat up leon. he's sweet looking and has the INSANE AMOUNT OF RIZZ AND CHARM OF BOTH LEON AND ADA so he's iNSANELY LIKE has girls all over him when he becomes a teenager but also is really awkward sometimes like leon sjdfnsl.

only when aeon son sees how leon treats ada does he realize that he's really his dad and loves his mom and then is like- :| okay fine this asshole might be my dad sjkbfkjdsfksj

aeon son would def be a mama's boy, very sweet to ada and overly protective of her too. DEF HATES HOW HIS FRIENDS ALWAYS WANNA DATE HIS MOM (ASKS IF HIS MOM IS SINGLE)

aeon daughter is like soft aeon twin. very clingy to leon, huge daddy's girl and looks so much like ada but so much softer. kinda a huge crybaby.

they would have a few years between them, not super close siblings in a sense, aeon son would think aeon daughter is so baby like geeez how did you come out of mom LMAO. maybe she was babied too much as a toddler. he also wonders if he would've been different though if he had leon when he was growing up

sobbing crying throwing up

#ada wong #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #aeon #leon x ada #ask heart #heart answers #anon #aeon children #aeon son #aeon daughter

[tiny-katara]

I can totally buy that Zuko could fall in love with Katara. She’s amazing. But why would Katara fall in love with Zuko? She may have forgiven him and become friends with him, but it’s one thing to become friends with a former enemy and another love them. Zuko really hurt her in many ways. Please don’t think I’m trying to be rude, I’m just genuinely curious. I want to understand the way Zutara shippers think. I have to because the ship is so popular.

no you're totally fine anon! your question is perfectly respectful and i have no issue answering. in fact, it would be a pleasure :)

now i can only give you my perspective on why i believe katara could/would fall for zuko and a lot of it is heavily based on my own experience as i do relate to katara in more ways than i'd like to admit lol. anyways... let's begin (this will definitely be extrememly long).

zuko definitely did a lot to hurt katara, but she forgives him in the show and they are ride or die besties immediately afterwards. katara strikes me as someone who forgives wholly and completely upon seeing a genuine effort to be better and zuko showed that to her. i really don't think if she hadn't completely let the past go they would've been able to joke around like they do in ember island players, so i don't really see that in particular barring their potential relationship. might just be me tho lol.

the thing about katara is that she is very good at taking on others' burdens but very poor at asking for help with hers and i think this has a lot to do with the death of her mother.ccanonically, katara immediately fills the void her mother left behind. mothers generally take on the burdens of their children and expect nothing in return--as it should be! children are not responsible for dealing with an adult's problem. all this really goes to say that katara is a character that struggles to receive help because she's been channeling what she saw her mom do and it pretty much outright says in the runaway that katara is the motherly figure of the group and that responsibilty is heavy weight to bear, but one she does anyway. she takes care of everyone, but she really struggles to allow herself to share her inner turmoil with everyone as a result. like we do see her talk about how she lost her mother a fair amount with people, but very rarely do we see her discuss the specific impact it had on her with them. it's almost always used as her method of empathizing with people who have suffered as a result of the war, not as a means to gain closure.

katara does tell one character the full story of what happened to her mother and the character she chooses to share that with is zuko–which is absolutely crazy if i'm being honest! it says a lot that katara is able to speak her mind more freely to someone who has deeply hurt her than her friends/family--and not necessarily bad things. again, it just shows that katara feels like they need her to be the tough one, or the caregiver, but she never does that to zuko. he's one of the few characters katara can freely express herself to and that's not just me making assumptions, that's canonical. it's insane when you're watching through the show and looking for katara's most vulnerable and honest moments and noticing that a lot of them occur around zuko. it's pretty clear that katara feels some kind of connection with zuko from like the first moment they have an actual conversation. like our girl just pulled that spirit water we'd all forgotten about and deemed fixing zuko's esteem issues worthy of it.

if you step back and think about it though, zuko and katara are some of the most similar characters in the show. both of them are very passionate people who fight for what they think is right. both deeply understand the meaning of a sacrifice since their mothers both gave up their lives for theirs (ursa obviously isn't dead but from zuko's reaction in the show he clearly thinks she is and she did still sacrifice her current life/lifestyle). both are pretty emotional and reactive if they're pushed to it. both are deeply empathetic, which often drives their sense of justice. it makes sense that katara would feel more comfortable opening up to him because zuko just gets it.

now this isn't about kata/ag and i don't want this to turn into anything like that, but this is the reason a lot of us zutara folk don't like kata/ag. no offense to aang, but our boy is 12. he is not going to be good at emotions and deep-rooted trauma no matter how wise and knowledgeable he may be lol. He just doesn't notice this struggle of katara's, and this isn't exclusive to aang. none of the members of team avatar are ever truly able to see this in katara and actively try to help her. that is until zuko.

the southern raiders is an episode that is wildly controversial across the fandom. there is no denying that lol. my interpretation will no doubt be different from yours, especially since it seems like you ship kata/ang (? this is not meant offensively love whatever you what anon!). in this episode we katara finally snap. she isn't being kind and caring, she's being selfish and angry--which let's be real, she deserves. like i said, none of the members of the team ever really notice that she's bearing the brunt of the weight in the group and our girl is doing a lot. it's really just a culmination of her family separating again, the burden of playing mother, the long journey (you can't tell me she's not completely exhausted), and the hurt zuko caused. everything builds up and katara does say some things that she definitely should not have, but it's mostly because of how blunt and hurtful they are.

a bit of a side note, but katara's comment to sokka is something that has always bugged me. i hate that we didn't get a scene between the two in which they reconcile and actually talk about what she said, because basically what she said boils down to "even though we shared the same mom and experience, the trauma we went through as a result is not the same." that statement is 100% accurate. sokka is very clearly not carrying around the same baggage katara is. it's pretty clear that katara feels responsible on some level for her mother's death as she is the last waterbender and that's why the fire nation was there in the first place. it's obviously not her fault, but we don't always process these things in the most logical ways now do we?

anyway, katara is hurting very badly in this episode and we see her lash out at zuko specifically, which is completely understandable. he’s from the nation that killed her after all and then on top of that royalty lol. it's the perfect storm really. i think it's important to note that although katara doesn't exactly state what's wrong apart from mentioning the betrayal in ba sing se, zuko is able to see how much she's actually hurting and tries to fix it as best he can. we also see zuko defending katara's decisions throughout the episode. he has her back 100% and he never expresses any sense of disappointment in her. zuko trusts katara's judgment and choices, something we don't see aang or sokka do in that episode. a partner should be able to let you make your own choices and have your back. zuko's giving katara that chance and he isn't telling her what to do or expressing disappointment in her actions.

this is probably based more on my own preferences, but i really don't think it's unrealistic for a teenage girl to fall for someone who is older and cares for her. i mean the guy jumped in front of lightning for her??? like idk but it would definitely make my heart skip a beat especially if he's also someone you get along with quite well. the two are ride or die besties in the span of like an episode. AND katara actually is amused by him on some level as seen in ember island players when they have their little moments of banter. all of the boys katara shows interest in before the finale/that aren't aang are older too. jet is older and if you count haru he is too (it's up to you there, i personally don't really know how to feel about it). that's also without mentioning how strikingly similar zuko and jet look. it is absolutely wild how closely they resemble each other, so it really doesn't seem outside the realm of possibility to say that zuko would fit katara's aesthetic if you will lol.

something else that is fairly unique to zuko is that he always treats katara as his equal. katara and zuko are always battling on the same level and he never acts like she can't handle herself. in my opinion, zuko is the one who shows the most respect for katara's bending abilities. zuko asks her to come fight azula with him because of that. like he definitely acknowledges that toph is also insanely powerful, but katara is someone who worked hard for what she is, and that's something zuko had to do himself. he knows exactly how hard it is to work for what she has and i think that understanding of her innate talent and work ethic are both reasons she would zuko to be an appealing partner, especially since katara has always had to demand that respect from other people. zuko respects it without her saying a word and i think it's safe to say that pretty much everyone wants a partner who acknowledges their talents and abilities without being specifically asked. i think this also ties in with part of her affections for jet because he also showed interested and respect for her bending. i mean he also did abuse her bending but still! katara would not put up with someone who didn’t show her respect.

zuko is just a more appealing partner than anyone else to me. he grows up a lot and has a strong sense of responsibility, is empathetic, passionate and ambitious, kinda dorky and awkward, and all around trying to be the best person he can be. those are pretty attractive qualities in a partner, so it just makes sense to me for katara to feel similarly, especially since i very much identity with her character lol.

so that was absurdly long, but i hope that helped your understanding of zutara! it's a ship that very strongly values strong individuals that are similar and different and respect each other as equals. my explanation is a bit messy and all over the place, but i really hope you did find it insightful! if you want a better and more in-depth view of the ship, i would recommend this video by snzeey reviews (its a long one but it is extremely thorough). she's able to explain it very politely and with much less bias than me. she even talks about how aang in a very respectful way, which I will admit to failing at lol. book 3 aang drives me up the wall! 

anyways thanks for your ask :) i am so sorry it took me so long to answer but i have literally thought about it all the time since receiving it lol. it was a lot of fun <3

#sorry this took me a while to put out anon #i had a lot to say #and i loved writing this out #zutara #zutara meta #i guess lol #i don't really know

[oneatlatime]

The Warriors of Kyoshi

Two in one day, look at me go! Do not expect this rate going forward.

Before we start. I'd like to give thanks to the writers for putting the place name in the episode title. As someone who has been attempting to spell things phonetically, but has no familiarity with non-english names and has therefore screwed up many many times, I am grateful.

I really didn't notice Zuko's voice in the last episode but he's back to sounding like a muppet in this one.

My man that meditation is not working. Nor is the hair. After that burst of flame how do you have hair left?

Somehow I missed last episode that they had named the lemur. Welcome to the gang, Momo!

So this is going to be the 'Sokka faces his sexism' episode. I'm going to get really nitpicky here. Sokka says "You need to give girls space when they do their sewing" and Katara responds "What does me being a girl have to do with sewing?" Well, nothing actually! It's Katara who makes the leap and ties the two ideas together. Sokka then 100% puts his foot in his mouth (and follows through with getting his pants in his face) and I love the way Katara responds to it! Sew your own pants Sokka! But I gotta say, if Sokka had only kept his mouth shut he would have been in the clear.

"Where we're going you won't need any pants" is not a relaxing statement Aang.

Appa rocking the Justin Bieber look.

Guess Katara threw those pants harder than I thought she did. He's only got one tooth left.

'Lookit me! Lookit me! Mom are you looking? Mom did you see me? Mom are you watching? Mom did you see? Mom watch this! Mom look at me!' -Aang, while harassing the local wildlife.

Growing up in the South Pole, jumping into any body of water is absolutely insane, so yeah this tracks.

I love how Momo is the most enthusiastic watcher.

What do koi eat? There must be a lot of it here.

The fish is doing all the work!

Nessie on roids.

They caught Momo! I love how this implies that Momo carries the same status as a threat that the humans do. They don't blindfold him though. Do you think they had a bag big enough for Appa?

Yikes this is turning into an after school special. Rule of thumb: if you have to flanderize your character in order to make them objectionable enough to be a candidate for the lesson of the week, maybe that's not the right character to use to teach the lesson?

Is this Water tribe or Earth kingdom territory? The warriors are in green, but everyone else is in water tribe blue. Assuming the colour coding we've seen with fire and water extends to earth, maybe the warriors are assigned there?

Kyoshi is a place and a person. Now picturing Aangland. Also I guess the warriors are from here after all.

Aang is really good at finding ideally placed sharp edges on which to cut his ropes.

I like the game of telephone sequence and how the colours gradually change from blue to red.

Needs to eat but too tired to get up. We've all been there buddy.

Katara absolutely going for the jugular in the breakfast scene. Speaking of, Sokka's line reads in that whole scene are just beautiful. Offended and cranky, but still showing genuine appreciation for breakfast.

First time Katara's made me laugh out loud. She's spot on.

This painter's line reads are great too!

Your dance lesson? Sokka you're letting me down. You're making me want to watch the warriors beat you up. You're the best warrior in your village? You're the only warrior in your village. You won by default. (Although it must be said that he does refer to his potty break pals as warriors, so maybe he thinks of himself as the best of many).

Sokka how is your shirt staying closed? And you totally brought that on yourself.

Passed out Momo.

Oh lord AANGY?

Do you think one of those warriors could be convinced to do the Sokka treatment on Aang too? His head's getting a little big. Parallels!

Warrior lady Sookie has some very poor line readings. She's not helped by the fact that she's contrasted with Sokka, whose voice actor is probably the best in the show.

Aangy seen here being very unmonkly. The back and forth here is great.

"I got you!" Yeah Sookie he did. "You're not going to get it in one day, even I'm not that good." Maybe you aren't but Sokka is.

Nessie on roids has enough thinking skills to use his own self as a table. Well done Nessie. Don't hurt yourself.

Did the airbender forget he could airbend? He's being flung around through the AIR by Nessie. Just bend!

It's a good thing Katara is a waterbender, otherwise going into the water while wearing head to toe furs would have absolutely drowned her.

How does Katara know Zuko's name? Or recognise his ship?

How does Katara bend water out of Aangy's lungs? Doesn't she have no training at all? I feel like that could have gone horribly.

Momo includes himself in the 'girls come quickly' statement.

This has Mexican stand off vibes, as does the music. Also why are people hiding from firebenders in wooden houses?

This is why I don't like after school special plots. Sokka's been learning their technique for a couple of days and he's already better at it than Sookie. Which retroactively justifies all his patronising sexism from earlier in the episode.

Fire breakdancing is shockingly efficient. He took out three opponents while flat on the ground. Also Zuko is getting some serious air on his jumps.

That's twice now that Zuko has reacted to Aang's presence by saying "Finally."

Did Zuko happen to be carrying a bag of coal dust? Either way he's dead.

Shmymbolism!

Katara gives the single most stupid advice possible 'get inside this flammable building children!' and follows it with straight up lying to Aang's face. I'm glad he called her on it. And I'm glad she was so quick to change back to what she's been trying to tell him the whole episode (we need to LEAVE). You were right all along Katara, don't bend the truth now to make him feel better.

BIG SIGH. I don't know if this is bad writing, bad line reading, or both. It's just so corny.

So now he remembers he's an airbender. Also I hope he had some sort of air shield when he hit the water.

Roid Nessie's water breathing dragon traits coming in handy. And I thought that was just worldbuilding. That's two episodes in a row where what looked like worldbuilding was also plot. Sneaky!

Ha! They're going to rust.

Appa caught him! With his paws!

If I was the leader of Kyoshi, I gotta say I wouldn't be thanking the avatar. Thank you for luring the fire nation to our previously neutral territory and then having the decency to fix the immediate problem that caused, though long term we're still screwed. Assuming that Zuko's actions represent fire nation actions, Kyoshi's neutrality is gone and the houses no longer have roofs. Do you think the fire nation does reprisals?

So pretty.

And I've been spelling Suki incorrectly. I guess the gimme with the episode title was too good to be true. Gotta check my hubris. I need a Sokka treatment myself.

Final Thoughts

This episode ANNOYS me. First, the good:

I'm glad that the show touched on the status of avatar going to Aang's head. The first couple of episodes firmly characterised Aang as not wanting to be the avatar, but you'd have to be superhuman not to let it go to your head just a little. And Aang wouldn't be anywhere near as fun to watch if he was superhuman.

I also like that Aang explicitly verbally acknowledges that Katara was right, and that he can put into words the ways he was wrong and the lesson he learned. The lesson has a better chance of sticking if he can actually articulate it.

I like how this show is consistently sticking to actions having both good and bad consequences that can't be bended/handwaved/magic-ed away. In episode two, the flare went off and now the village at the south pole has a giant gash in it and Sokka and Katara had to leave home. In this episode, Aang stayed too long and now the village has burned down. There's no magic fix. This makes the world of the show feel real, and feel like something that's worth caring about. Actual stakes mean actual investment by the viewer is not wasted.

Katara got a turn with the brain! She was right about Sokka being a sexist jerk, right about Aang getting a big head, right about Zuko following them if they leave. I like Katara being right.

The bad:

I am not liking the direction that Aang and Katara's relationship is going. It's fine for Aang to have a little crush, and it's fine for Katara to baby him (he is younger, and judging by the ages of all the children in her village apart from her brother, Katara's been a mini-mom for a while). But it's jarring when those opposing perceptions are so blatantly juxtaposed. I think this is one of the places where the fact that I'm an adult and this show is for kids is making itself known. If I had watched this at 8 or 9 years old, I probably wouldn't have even picked up on the opposing dynamics. I can't quite articulate why it doesn't sit well with me. It just doesn't.

And now, the Sokka arc. BIG SIGH. Sokka needed to grow past his sexist tendencies. No argument there. But his sexism boils down to believing in the gendering of tasks and that said gendering has a basis in fact. That there are man things and woman things. That men ARE better at man things and women ARE better at women things, with the corresponding (though unacknowledged) belief that women are worse at man things and men are worse at woman things. Sokka was supposed to have these beliefs challenged and ultimately overturned in this episode by meeting, and being beaten up by, Suki and her warriors, women who excel at (what Sokka thinks of as) man things. Suki and her warriors do challenge the first part of Sokka's original beliefs, that being a warrior is a man thing. But after a 45 second training montage he gets the best of her.

Being a warrior seems to be Suki's full time job. We never see her out of her armour; this is her role in the village, a role she has presumably trained for for many years. And Sokka gets the best of her in the training room, and fends off Zuko after she fails to do so herself. If Sokka surpasses Suki so quickly at what she has devoted her life to, I guess being a warrior is naturally easier for men. And sure, women CAN be warriors, Sokka outright says it (although Suki kind of has to correct him as he only get halfway there), but putting aside the dialogue and looking at the action, Sokka's just better.

For that matter, given that Sokka was quite literally the only man over four years old in his village, he must have been used to seeing women fulfilling a male role. Unless his demonstrated subpar fishing skills could feed the whole village, the women were going hunting. Which is why I said he was flanderized earlier. He might want to believe in the gendering of tasks because it makes him feel manlier or more connected to his interpretation of his culture, or heck maybe it give him a sense of purpose or makes him miss his dad less, just spitballing here. But there's no way he hasn't spent every day since the men left for war seeing that belief be contradicted. And sure, he could have some cognitive dissonance going on, especially since he seems to have staked his whole identity on his manliness, but would that cognitive dissonance be enough to insult a pack of warriors to their face while tied up, then insult them even worse while they're actively practising with their weapons? I guess teenage boys have done stupider.

I'm probably reading too much into this.

The meh:

Zuko in this episode is literally just filling the villain of the week slot, and serious step down in narrative focus after the last episode, where he got a whole arc.

So I have problems with this episode. I like the avatar stuff temporarily going to Aang's head, but I don't think it redeems the rest of the episode. It won't be going on my rewatch list.

Last, totally vain complaint: this episode was nowhere near as pretty as the Southern Air Temple. That one had beautiful contrasts with blue/purple air and red/orange fire. This one is just beige.

#atla #avatar: the last airbender #the warriors of kyoshi #avatar the last airbender

[thegamingcatmom]

Good evening, lovely Cat Mom! 👋🏻😸💖

I hope that this message finds you well.. aka feeling wonderfully insane, feeding the delightful dark things in your mind, and continuing to fuel your obsession with our favourite undead Mommy! 😌💞

I felt it necessary that this particular part of your reply to one of my asks deserves its own little response from me because [ *sounds of lesbian feral screaming into her pillow* ] 😩😻

(Tbh I´ve been itching to use the term "mate" for our poor little Drama Queen for a while now because it´s got such a feral feeling to it and it tells us quite a bit about Momma´s inner workings because mate is basically the equivalent to mine mine mine now and forever and there´s probs lots of biting going on and mating dance and courting and chasing is foreplay and also brrrrrrrrrr and 🥵)

As a lover of A/B/O fiction and primal kink stuff.. this sort of thing drives me crazy! It makes me vibrate with need! 🥴😵‍💫 Therefore, I am obviously eternally grateful for you seeing reader as Momma’s mate, and viewing Ellie as an alpha, and including those descriptors in your writing.

As soon as there is any sort of mention of things such as: being someone’s mate, being owned, the alpha / omega dynamic, predator / prey roles, foreplay in the form of being chased / hunted, being marked or bitten as a form of visible ownership, claiming / being claimed, mating, and breeding.. I am done for! 🥵😮‍💨

RIP me.. in the best possible way! 😻💘

Also, this little snippet from your reply to someone else’s ask:

“..clearly you approve of her display of strength, of showing who’s at the top of the food chain - an apex predator, an alpha-“

Upon reading that line alone:

I am feeling rather insane over Momma’s mating dance, as her showing off her alpha prowess and proving herself to be more than a worthy mate for reader involving her slaughtering those who she sees as possible competition ( aka absolutely anyone! ) in front of you to impress you, and leaving absolute carnage and utter chaos in her wake in her attempts to court you, is just so.. afshdkfkehshdkhddhaaaaaagh! 🤤

Where do I sign up for an unhinged woman to treat me this way? SIGN ME UP! 🖊️🙏🏻

AIGHT YALL please do line up right here-

*gestures losely to the hole that´s opened up*

- for a one-way ticket to hell.

But be warned because it´s swarmed with unhinged, murderous, demonic women lusting after your flesh and blood and other bodily fluids and limbs might get sent flying absolutely everywhere SO strong is their desire, their instinct to climb inside your body so that you can be one now and forever because they need to be with you every second every step like a leech and eternity can be rather long lemme tell ya so it is strongly advised to proceed with caution and take a moment to think very carefully about-

...alright then.

(Yall thirsty af, shame on you.)

But where are my manners?!

HELLAW lovely ghost aka was Mommy! 🥰💕

Your messages are always so fucking sweet and thoughtful I- 🥺💗🥺💗🥺💗🥺

ALSO, reading through your ask made me realize how utterly delicious deranged!Maggot Momma sounds even thought that´s literally my view of her so I SHOULD know how it sounds but seeing someone else wrapping it all up so nicely and with these words (alpha prowess made me melt) is just another thing entirely and makes me feel things. 🥵🥵🥵🥵

(Also, I feel it necessary to point out that my brain is a fountain of insanity and it doesn´t look like it´s gonna be exhausted anytime soon.)

And AOSFNASLNÖSAGANK primal!Momma is delicious ain´t she?? And just thinking about anything involving A/B/O universe with Maggot Momma is- I-

IDEAS THOUGHTS FEELS-

OKAY LISTEN,

I think it´s become quite clear by now that I, indeed, view Momma as the alpha, the leader of the pack (of Undeads). There´s this certain dynamic going on between her and the other Deadites/demons and it´s very likely I´m going to delve deeper into that in the future because pack dynamics (especially of the demonic kind) are just a special kind of 🥵

My recent work is a pretty good example of what we can expect of Momma & The Pack in the future and how she deals with things like insubordination.

...Insubordination concerning that bunch of misfits of course. Not her perfect Drama Queen because her mate can do no wrong because they´re perfect and if yall ever dare even implying such a thing then Momma´s personally gonna drag your ass to hell where you can rot for all eternity.

But yeah, it´s basically Maggot Momma constantly feeling this need to prove herself and gallavant about - showing everyone that alpha prowess - because not only does it secure her place as the top dog but (she thinks) it also lets her have allll the puss-

I mean-

As with all (or most) animals, the only things that matter when it comes to laying claim to a female are strength and size. And Momma´s got both.

#evil dead rise #maggot mommy #deadites #evil dead rise...but gayer #alyssa sutherland #ellie bixler

[tsunflowers]

I was playing idol land again and thinking about my pripara ocs.... do you want to hear about them..... I made up two new ones yesterday....

I need to actually draw them bc I have Visions but anyway

the three on the left are a unit but I havent named the unit. the first syllables of their surnames can spell out O KA SHI so I was gonna do something with that

kasuga kaede age: 14 color: green brand: potsuri party (pop)

all she thinks about is frogs and other amphibians and conservation strategies for them. her parents are both academics so they support their science-minded child but one studies literature and the other history so they don’t totally understand. very smart and surprisingly perceptive but bad with social cues (autistic). she's in the same grade as the other two but has a december birthday so she's younger. idk if they let that happen in Japan but that's my vision for her

she only got into pripara bc she realized if she could capture a wide audience she would be able to share frog facts with more people. her songs are very cute with a lot of splish-splash and hoppity-hop but she starts and ends every performance with relevant information on frog conservation. you get used to it. according to her she doesn’t need to wear glasses in pripara bc the frog eyes on her hair dec help her see

okano saori age: 15 color: blue brand: icy flush (cool)

trans girl, initially out in pripara but not in real life. has a single mom who loves her dearly and tries her hardest once things are explained to her but she’s made some insensitive comments in the past that make saori afraid to come out. girl who is always joking around to stave off her crippling depression. her look is obviously inspired by mirei lmao

she loves going to pripara and following idols. also she loves digging up secrets and knowing all the intel on all the top idols. but she respects the divide between pripara and irl bc it’s so important to her so she never looks too deep into people’s lives in the real world. she’s happy doing that and slightly afraid to perform in case people look too closely into her. but she’s a born performer and once kaede encourages her to get on stage she loves it. card suit motif

shiraishi reiha age: 15 color: burgundy brand: sunset fantasy (celeb) -> raspberry bouquet (lovely)

the youngest child of a prominent family in the entertainment business and a child actress, now teen actress. she doesn’t want to act forever but she’s afraid to tell her family bc she doesn’t know what she DOES want to do. she’s spent her whole life just doing what other people expect of her and it’s worked out pretty well so far so what if she crashes and burns once she changes

the few times she’s been to pripara before it was as a celeb idol to promote her career outside pripara so it just felt like work to her. she didn’t have fun with it. after befriending the others she switches to lovely type, keeping the wine color and the butterfly motif but more florals and less gold. and she learns to perform for the fun of it and not worry about impressing people

then the other two are senpai idols having insane drama and one of them is a virtual girl. I only made them up yesterday so I haven't ironed everything out

yu (stylized in lowercase cursive) age: 17 color: violet brand: twilight satin (premium)

in pripara she’s a top idol with her princely girl personality and delicate, haunting voice. outside of pripara she’s a shy and depressed girl whose conservative parents crush any gender experimentation she tries. she can only perform at the tail end of the evening after sneaking out of the house so her performances are rare and difficult to attend, which just makes her all the more popular. people call her a phantom. she has a ponytail. idk if that's clear but it's important

in pripara she can be her authentic self and flirt with girls and everyone loves her. but she can’t bring any of that to the real world and doesn’t have any strong relationships. even when she’s in pripara she has to disappear at the end of the night and can’t tell people who she is irl

jyarara age: ?? color: white brand: alchemic arachne (premium)

a vocal doll who has something wrong with her. I thought about making her a boyish type character too bc there aren't any boyish vocal dolls but ultimately I love the aesthetic of a lonely princess spinning a web of lies. her relationship with yu is kind of a reversal of falulu with hibiki. hibiki wanted falulu to let her into pripara at night to fuck with the system and eventually become a vocal doll herself and falulu innocently wanted a friend. jyarara wants to trap yu in pripara forever and have an eternal companion and since yu wants to escape her real life shes letting it happen. I think she was born from the longing of girls who dream of pripara at night but she became warped and twisted from only being active in the empty nighttime pripara

I should really draw her bc I have a vision taking shape in my mind. I want her to have a spiderweb motif and a big dress with a kind of cage made of webs. like a hoopskirt on the outside of a dress that’s shorter in the front than the back. also if/when I actually draw her she’ll have a design on her headphones that’s much more like spider eyes. I guess she's a little like a female spiders jeremy since she's a white steampunk spider

this is them irl before and after saori is out at school. jyarara doesn't get to come to school bc she's slightly evil and not real :/

the vibe is above knee skirt for saori and kaede, knee length skirt for reiha, and below the knee skirt for yu. yu has a different name at school that I haven't decided yet but it has 夕 in it somewhere

my favorite thing about pripara is how characters change based on whether they're irl or within pripara. saori has the simplest change of having to go to school as a "boy" but being herself in pripara, and she also shrinks. kaede changes bc she consciously wants to give off a cuter and more approachable vibe in pripara but her personality and mannerisms are exactly the same. reiha basically doesn't change at all bc she sees pripara as work rather than an opportunity to express herself. when she switches to raspberry bouquet she literally lets her hair down and wears outfits that are flowing instead of tight. as for yu she literally just wants to be masc. she's sort of mentally separating herself into the girl who goes to school and just tries to get through the day and yu who gets to come out at night and be herself. when she has support from friends and can integrate those sides of herself I think she can become a popular princely girl at school too but as it is she's just very gloomy and depressed

#flowers ocs

[backstage-if]

A little father’s day gift after the results of this poll :)

On a serious note, I’m warning that Wille and their parents don’t get along that well and this is (kinda) featured in here. Also, it’s a little longer than a drabble.

Under the cut:

2022. 

Wille Eccleston is leaving this town in seven days. No more, no less.

Neither of her parents know about it yet. 

She isn't planning on telling them at all, at least not until the very last day. That scenario is clear in her head. Next week, she will be getting hold of her bags, the rest of her needlework money and then follow to her best friend's house with a simple "By the way, I'm moving", or something close to that. She won’t give them enough time to react or put together any sort of emotional speech about how they will miss her. 

It isn't a plan, not exactly, but this is all she has. 

The moment her sister, Rebecca, enters her room, Wille is working on the last costume she will ever make for her old school’s theater group. 

"Lend me a dress," her sister barely says, competing with the loud noise made by the sewing machine, then Rebecca herself turns it off unprompted. “Mom said I could choose one of your dresses!”

Wille annalyzes her sister's frame for a minute, the girl is even shorter than she was at her age. 

"It won't fit you, we both know that. Mom must know it, too." 

"Let me have it, Willow!"

She pretends to think about it for a second, "Nah." 

Rebecca stamps her foot loudly on the wooden floor and, at that sound, their dad's head appears at the bedroom's door, a confused expression on his face. 

"Did I hear an argument?”

It has happened way too many times at this point, especially considering how few years they have been on this Earth together, but Wille already learned that, unless she makes a point of being the first one to say something, Rebecca will have no problem throwing her ‘mean sister’ under their parents’ bus. 

"Rebecca never gives my stuff back, she proved it too many times."

His confusion turns into weariness, maybe even impatience, "Can't you just... get it from her room when you plan to use it?"

Wille doesn’t have time to come up with an answer that doesn’t spoil her plans, because she can register the exact moment in which her dad sees the bag by the bedroom's corner. 

"Hey, what is this?"

Silence. What is there to say? 

"Willow, what is this?"

The truth. Maybe.

"Okay. Fine, you win. I'm moving."

"...What? Does your mom know that? Did I know that? It doesn't seem like something I would forget if you told me."

"I haven't had the opportunity to talk to her yet. I will. Tonight."

"That's not-" he seems to remember the girl right there, watching the scene unfold with wild brown eyes. "Leave, Rebecca."

"But I wanted to-"

"No, you didn't. Go to your room, go."

She exits with a frown, but not another word. After the girl leaves, Wille’s dad gets inside the bedroom and closes the door. He stays standing with his arms crossed, staring at her as if he can’t decide whether she is lying or going insane. 

"Where did that idea come from? No, of course. See, I’ve always said that friend of yours and her crazy mom weren’t-"

“Don’t say it,” Wille raises her voice at that and he stops whatever he was going to say, at least. “I talk about moving almost every day, why is it such a surprise to you?”

“We thought you were joking!” her dad mumbles something incomprehensible, then says louder. “You can’t just move.”

"Why?"

Deep down, she knows what is coming. Wille can hear the words even before it’s out there in the world, but, for a moment, she hopes her dad will surprise her and say something different. 

"Who will take care of the store?"

In the end, she is right.

It stings a little, even if it shouldn’t anymore. Once again, there is no worry about Wille herself, only that hell of a store. Always the same.

"You and mom will, as you already do. You don't really need me here, dad, I would be a terrible manager."

Just say both of you will miss me. Say that I'm your daughter and you love me and I should stay because of that, instead. 

"And if something happens? If Lucas breaks an arm and I have to take him to the hospital or if your mom, God forbid, falls ill? What then? We close it, just like that?"

She stays quiet.

"Willow, honey- We don't just do what we want to! Believe me, I know a thing or two about that. Sometimes we… Well, we have responsibilities and we have to stay. Life chooses for us."

Finally, she turns to him and tries to ignore what is implied in his words. He stayed for the family and now he wants her to stay for the business. It’s supposed to be a never-ending story. 

She says, "I'm going anyway."

"Oh my God, you’re so stubborn. Do you even have a plan? Any plan?"

Yes. Her train tickets are already bought, their not-fancy but surely affordable apartment is simply waiting for Wille and her best friend by this point and, if her dad can’t tell by the bag that gave her away in the first place, almost all of her clothes are already packed. Still, she lies to him, "No, but I'll figure it out."

"I really don't get what is w-" he stops mid sentence, then opens the door. "Nevermind. Good luck telling you mom that. Don't leave the dirty work to me."

"I won’t."

"She might… I don't know, she might even talk some sense into you. You're 22, for God's sake, you're too old to be this inconsiderate."

He closes the door loudly and leaves, and Willow doesn't bother screaming after him that she is actually 24. 

A week after that, she is the one leaving.

#ch: wille eccleston #about the characters #extra-canon #f!wille for this one #backstage if