#oooh i like this kind of light apple green!
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Moves & Countermoves (Part 6)
Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing.
Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
Peeta is down by the river, camouflaged in the rocks after Cato slashed his leg and left him for dead.
“Ah ha ha,” Chaff smiles when he spots Haymitch with an entire pitcher of rum. “So this is how the Capitol treats it’s favorites.”
“Had to steal it off the cart.” Haymitch chuckles allowing his friend to slip in between him and Y/N.
“Steady now.” Y/N teases, a hand to his back until he’s seated.
Chaff knocks her shoulder with his own, “what’s the matter, baby?”
Y/N has nothing but love for her husband’s best friend. However they are two peas in a pod and when they get together…there goes all the liquor. Back home in twelve, Haymitch has been known to have a drink or two, still able to enjoy his wife and children. This place brings it all back, the horrible things he’s done, everything he failed to do. If he wasn’t drunk, he’d surely lose his mind.
“I wanna send Peeta medicine,” Y/N explains.
“Sponsors leaving you high and dry? Never thought I’d see the day.”
“Not the sponsors, Haymitch made him a deal.”
“Who am I to disrespect this poor boy’s dying wish?” Haymitch quirks a brow.
“And his wish is to-”
“No parachutes. Save Katniss.”
“Katniss,” Chaff drawls.
Two of their tributes have formed an alliance. Rue and Katniss hatching a plan to blow up the career’s stash; lightning fires to draw them away.
“This green stuff is gonna smoke like crazy, as soon as it’s lit, move on to the next one.” The girl on fire warns.
“Ok,” Rue agrees, “we need some kind of signal; in case one of us gets held up.”
“Like what?”
“Here, watch this.” Rue lets out a tiny melody, which the birds rings back.
“Mockingjays.” Katniss realizes, “that’s brilliant.”
“We use them back home to signal the time.” Rue says, shifting the backpack on her shoulder. “If we hear that, it means we’re ok and we’ll be back real soon.”
“We’re gonna be ok,” Katniss pulls her in for a hug, running a hand over her hair. “Hey, I’ll see you for supper.”
————————————————————————
For once in her life Y/N is grateful for the Capitol broadcasting the action only, in the viewing room. A split screen between Rue lighting the fires, the careers chasing smoke and Katniss making her way to the cornucopia.
Clove and the others leave a single boy behind to keep watch. As the red haired tribute from five lily pads around explosives to steal food, the watchman catches her in his peripheral. Taking off after her into the woods.
Katniss lines up her shot, missing the corner of the apple net by just a hair. She takes a step closer, a few calming breathes later the tip of her arrow pierces the bag and out tumble all of the apples.
She’s blown back by the force of it.
“Oooh,” Chaff winces.
After a moment Katniss gets her bearings, heading back to Rue.
The boy keeping watch pays the price, Cato snaps his neck before giving him a chance to explain.
Rue is well on her way to light the last fire when she hears the explosion. Katniss did it. Then the trap set by the careers falls, she tripped the wire, a weighted net.
“Shit.” Y/N covers her mouth. Katniss…please hurry.
“Come on, Rue,” Chaff says, under his breath. “Work your way out.” He coaches, as if she can hear him. She does try, just like he taught her, but the net is too heavy.
When Katniss finds the final fire unlit, she whistles their signal.
“Get her out.” Haymitch rocks back slightly in his seat.
“Get her out.”
“Get her out.
“Get her out!”
The people of the viewing room echo. Y/N turns her head as the room builds to a collective chant.
“Get her out. Get her out. Get her out.”
It isn’t unheard of for spectators to voice their call to action. Though they are more concerned with the entertainment value than the life of the child.
When Katniss gets no response, she races toward the pile of sticks and leaves meant to start the last fire. Still no Rue.
“Katniss! Katniss, help.” Rue calls from beneath the net.
Katniss cuts her loose, Rue safe in her arms. “I’m here, you’re safe.”
The viewing room cheers are short lived. Marvel sends his spear flying, only to be met with Katniss’ arrow. When the cameras pan back to Rue…the damage is clear and irreversible.
Y/N excuses herself. She cannot watch, she cannot pretend, she cannot breathe. Scrambling into the nearest private room with the curtains drawn. Pushing them back with little care before realizing that it is occupied.
“You look ill, dear.” The Capitol woman gasps. “Come, sit down.”
“I’m so sorry to barge in like this.” Y/N apologizes, it’s not anyone she knows.
“Never you mind that, the pleasure is mine. Let me get you a drink.” The woman begins waving down a waiter.
Y/N grabs the ice bucket, “can I throw up in here?” Doesn’t matter, it’s coming up.
“Oh my stars, you poor thing.” She fans the victor as best she can, while continuing to wave one hand out of the privacy curtain. “Must be something you ate.”
“What can I get for you?” The waiter asks.
“Some water, to start and a fresh ice bucket.”
“Yes, right away.”
The woman takes great pleasure in ‘nursing’ Y/N back to health. With water and something close to a bland cracker.
These people are not inherently bad, Y/N realized that years ago. Conditioned in their belief and out of touch, but they are not evil. I don’t hate them…I hate what they do.
It’s not long before Haymitch is tearing back curtains to find her. Letting out a sigh of relief when he does.
“Haymitch, what a pleasure.” The woman holds out a hand.
“Great to meet you, love the dress.” He kisses the top of her hand, using it to guide her toward the exit, “give us a minute, will you?”
“But of course.” The woman is awestruck. The victors of district twelve, in her private room! Hailing over everyone who is anyone. Mouthing, “they’re in there,” motioning toward the fabric that separates them.
“I need you to listen to me.” Haymitch whispers, kneeling in front of Y/N. Wiping away any remnants of vomit and tears.
Y/N nods.
“Katniss gave that little girl a proper send off, you know as well as I do, the gamemakers and Snow aren’t happy about it.” She created a martyr.
Again she nods.
“I’m gonna talk to Crane, see what I can do for damage control.” Keep Katniss alive.
“Ok." Don’t let them kill Katniss.
“We’re gonna get you a mint and then I need you to walk out of here like nothing is wrong. Can you do that?” He tips her chin up, holding her gaze.
There is worry in his eyes, guilt and sadness. Her husband is afraid and he needs her. “Yes.”
“Good,” Haymitch gives her a reassuring smile, taking her into his arms.
————————————————————————
Katniss receives a parachute of bread a while later. After the silence is louder than the cannons and the artificial sun has set.
Haymitch is still negotiating, Y/N figures he must’ve sent it. Until she sees the note attached, from district eleven.
Y/N makes her way over to Seeder, sitting alone in the opposite corner.
“It was for Rue,” she older woman explains before Y/N can get a word out. “My district spent days scrounging up the money, the sponsors finally came through. We had enough to send some for Thresh too.”
“You could’ve sent him both.”
“My people wanted Katniss to have it.” Seeder informs her.
“I know she…appreciates their generosity very much.”
The answer is dry, rehearsed. Y/N is young and still does not understand. “I knew a girl once, she was kind and brave. She played the games and never let them play her. For the first time, I thought there might not be a victor. Because she was lying there, bleeding out and her partner was there, bleeding out…nobody was killing anybody,” she pauses. “Haymitch had to fight like hell to get you out of that one, they wanted your family-”
Dead. “I know,” Y/N stares down at her hands.
“I saw something that day, and I see it in her.” Seeder motions toward Katniss on the screen. “A good, genuine person with heart. They tried to snuff it out of you, beat it out of you; but I still see you. You hold onto your heart and you never let anyone take it from you.”
“Thank you,” Y/N blinks back tears.
“Attention, tributes, attention. The previous rules allowing only a single victor have been…suspended. Two victors may be crowned, so long as they both originate from the same district.”
All hope is not lost.
Part 7
Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @officialjellydoughnut @whoreforfictionalpeople @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k @magical-spit @greaser9902 @jessicamellarky @yourebuckingkiddingme
#haymitch abernathy x y/n#haymitch abernathy fanfic#haymitch abernathy x reader#haymitch x y/n#haymitch abernathy x you#haymitch fanfic#haymitch abernathy#haymitch x reader#thg haymitch#hunger games fanfic#the hunger games#hunger games#katniss everdeen#peeta mellark
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Good evening, Liz! For monikers, I've been thinking between pirate or dragon. Pirate fits the person-archetype theme, but I would be remiss to ignore your URL. Perhaps you can choose between the two, or even pick both?
I've had cornbread muffins, which might count, but no good plain bread freshly homemade. Comes with living poor and disabled in a city, I suppose. The custard is frozen, yes, the ice cream type. I find I prefer custard ice creams over the regular kind, for some reason. There's little discernible difference, but the places I get my frozen custard must have better options, I suppose. I enjoy sorbets quite a bit as well.
Thank you for the hoorahs in return! I'll save them for a rainy day, perhaps once I've gotten some sewing done, or if I need motivation to get started on it.
Eclectic fashion is my favorite, honestly. Though, less eclectic where nothing fits together, and more the kind where you get one really loud piece and build something around it. I've a few choice items I've found at thrift shops that are just delightfully horrid, and I love the challenge of making them presentable. I especially enjoy "owning" the tackiness and being proud in it.
For scents... Perhaps a compromise between your two poles of options? A fresh apple, perhaps. Food-based but light, and it brings to mind images of late spring to early autumn, where everything's green and loud. Makes me think, also, of noisy, shameless laughs with your close friends. It seems to fit you quite well.
My favorite baked good... I'm quite partial to danishes, usually with cream cheese. I've been meaning to try the varieties with fruit topping, though. You also can't go wrong with cake, though.
For your question: if you could have any animal as a magical familiar, which animal would it be?
- With love, the Knight
Jereliz the pirate-dragon certainly has an air of whimsy about it, and let it never be said that I don't appreciate a good portmanteau (even if neither of those is technically a portmanteau. shhhh)
Cornbread muffins are good! But yeah, a nice loaf of fresh baked bread with chewy and soft insides and a crispy crust, still steaming from the oven, is irreplaceable. I hope you get to experience it someday!
Custard ice creams are often a bit richer than their egg-free counterparts, as they're made with egg yolks (which have a fair amount of fat) along with the usual cream/milk mixture. You might be detecting that difference without realizing, or it might just be a matter of flavor choices like you'd said. Maybe it's the subtle egginess! In which case I imagine you would really like eclairs, souffles, and popovers.
here's a few more for you to stockpile: Hooray! Yippee! Wahoo!
That's an excellent way to go about fashion, I think. I tend to not invest a lot of energy in my outfits, so I go more for pieces that bring me joy individually and that aren't super off the wall, so I can mix and match fairly easily.
I like that! Or maybe some ripe strawberries, fitting the same categories (i have had strawberry based nicknames in the past because of how much i like them <3) I'm honored to be compared to the boisterous laughter of friends, that's one of my favorite things to both hear and do.
Danishes of all sorts are lovely. In specific, are you referring to the breadier/cakier type, like you usually find in stores, or the flakier, almost croissant-like type? I've made both, and they're both delicious, but notably different.
Oooh, that's a tricky one. Believe it or not, I'm not going to immediately go for an owl (though it's tempting). Though I love them dearly and admire them aesthetically, they're maybe not the best match for my personal vibe. they're also dumb as rocks
Maybe a prairie dog. They're unassuming at first sight, relatively small, and very cute. I definitely wouldn't want to go for an extremely large predator-type animal, as I'd be a cottage-core type of magic user. Prairie dogs are also quite social (and though i do appreciate my quiet time irl, I also very much enjoy talking with friends, both irl and digitally)
also, they love to hug and kiss, and i'd love to snuggle them
If you don't mind, I'd like to borrow the same question for you! What would your magical familiar be?
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Garden of Eden
A drabble based on this message chat i had with @badassbaker
A/N For some fucking reason that is beyond me i decided to add a bunch of Adam & Eve fable references into this, just to add to my glorious decent into hell when my time comes.
This was written with the idea that its August Walker, although i don’t name him in the story.
Pairing: Henry Cavill CHARACTER x Female reader
Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Unprotected Sex, Semi Public Sex, Hyperspermia (yes @littlefreya has given me that kink now).
Word count: 849 (oooh a short one!)
I do not run a tag list, but if you follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications you will get an alert whenever i post something new. That is also where you can find my past works, as well as at AO3
Garden of Eden
Condensation beaded on the glass as you carried it through the gardens, ducking beneath the heavy blossoms of the magnolia trees, the narrow stone path flanked by old raised flowerbeds on both sides. The scent of freshly cut grass hung in the air, a heady reminder that Spring was in full swing and Summer would soon be on its way.
The sound of the lawnmower droned in the background, the noise of the engine drifting through the undergrowth as you approached the gardeners shed, the door hanging open and you stepped inside. It was a small space, just enough to have a workbench that was meticulously tidy but held the oil marks of long ago repaired machinery. Cupboard and cabinets were kept tidy with their doors shut, and a simple soft chair sat in the corner. Resting the glass of juice on the workbench you spotted a book left open on the arm of the chair, crossing the shed to read the title, unaware that the noise of the lawnmower had ceased until you heard the hosepipe outside the shed spring into life. Taking a step towards the door you were greeted with the sight of him.
Standing on the sun dappled cobblestones outside the shed, hidden from view by the trees and shrubbery, his t-shirt clung to his body, the deep green of the fabric tracing the curves and plains of his chest. Having filled the wooden bucket he lifted the hose and ducked his head underneath it, letting the cool water run through his hair and down his body. The green fabric quickly turned dark and stuck to every single part of his chest, his thick muscles now clearly defined.
Glancing up he finally saw you and a dark smile spread over his lips, curling beneath his moustache and he started to advance upon you like a python stalking its prey. As he stepped inside the small space he pulled the wet shirt over his head, setting it to hang on the handle of the door in the sunshine, before he delicately lifted the glass, wiping the cool glass across his forehead before meeting your hungry gaze;
“Tempting me with such pure nectar…” he muttered before downing the contents, you watched as his adams apple bobbed as he swallowed and you yearned to trace the smooth lines of his neck, whether it be with your fingers or tongue.
Setting the glass down he suddenly closed the space between you, one arm wrapping around you and resting on your rear and the other tucking your hair over your ear. Flush with his body your hands rested on his chest, your fingers curling through the dark curls of hair before his lips were upon yours. The kiss was deep and intense, he tasted of apples and his tongue was a thing of wonder.
He lifted you as if you weighed that of a feather, turning until he was able to sit in the soft chair, pulling you to straddle his lap as the kiss expanded, tongues and lips tracing patterns over skin as fingers found buttons and zippers and soft cotton.
Your mouth fell open as he speared you with his hot flesh, your velvet channel screaming as his size tested your body’s limits, but as his hands gripped yours you breathlessly started to ride him. One hand moved to the neckline of your light dress, pulling the front until your soft breasts fell free, his mouth catching a peaked nipple between his lips as he suckled on the teat.
Riding him you chased towards your release, desperate to feel the monster of a man beneath you fill you with his seed, your fingers gripping into his shoulders so hard your fingernails left a series of crescent moons in their wake. His hands moved to your ribs, holding and cradling you as if you were to give him life there hidden in paradise amongst the trees.
When your release crested you convulsed in his arms, his own peak following immediately as your walls clung to his silken flesh, pulling his seed from him as he pumped you full. And full you were, his orgasm filled you to the brim and more, his spent seed seeping from where your bodies were joined yet more flowed as he continued to fill your fertile land with the beginning of life.
When you finally fell limp in his arms he pulled you to his chest, pressing a kiss to your forehead before you rested your head on his shoulder, a sleepy smile on your face as you softly ran your fingers over his cheek, the stubble long and verging on a beard. Turning to you he smiled, his eyes kind and full of love;
“You made me lose my place in my book…”
Peering over the side of the chair, you saw his copy of Milton’s ‘Paradise Lost’ laying on the floor and smiled;
“Bring it to bed tonight, you know i always fall asleep quicker than you do”
Pressing his lips to your cheek he smiled;
“Yes my love”
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Hi Meg darling I have a question for you. You've done boys and sauces and boys/ships and cakes. What kind of tea would each boy from 5sos be? Also which boy do you think makes the best tea? Love you <3
hi em!!! omg this is so fun thank you for sending this, I love you!
ok so i think luke is one of those fruit teas like raspberry or something, oooh actually i have a tea that I love that’s strawberries and cream and it’s strawberry, apple, rosehip and vanilla. that’s luke, sweet and a little bit tangy.
ashton is green tea, no cap. it’s super caffeinated and can be a little bitter but like. it’s good for you and can improve brain function and has antioxidants. it wants the best for you! also ashton just gives me green tea vibes these days
michael i’m inclined to say is something more like a sleepy tea or a relaxing belnd, something with chamomile, its light and soothing, that’s what Michael makes me think of especially these days! the kind of tea you drink in the evening
calum is like one of my other favourite teas which is a choc chip chai loose leaf. its warm and cinnamony and has ginger and orange blossom with dark chocolate and you brew it with milk and honey. it's warm and comforting
as for your second question i’m inclined to think calum would make the best tea, by virtue of the fact I think he would care the most about making the kind of tea you want and made the way you like, which as we know is the most important part of tea. it’s the intention.
#em#thank you em this was so lovely#i love tea#i'm going to make a cup right now#unfortunately none of them can possibly encapsulate the true love of my life: english breakfast tea#pixiegrl#ask
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Tumblr Exclusive!!!!
Author’s Note: I’m a ho 🤷🏾♀️
Just Do It
“This can’t be happening,” Edd thought, but the way Kevin pulled him closer said that it was.
He was a trife upset that his polo shirt and jeans were getting wrinkled, but the way Kevin was kissing him made those thoughts very fleeting.
Then the redhead rolled over onto his back.
The position put Edd on top, which gave him more control of the situation. Kevin shoving Edd’s hands down his pants was a GIANT SIGN of where the redhead wanted the control to go.
And that was odd.
To Edd, anyways.
The back and forth flirting they had been doing since they met was mutual, of course. Every other time they ended up making out, Kevin seemed ok with being in charge.
There was no real Big or Little Spoon when they actually fell asleep in the same bed. Kevin liked sleeping on his back, where Edd liked sleeping on his stomach, so it made it easy to find a comfy spot next to the other and just drift off to Dreamland.
But now Edd’s completely in charge.
When he sat up, Kevin sat up a bit too, and Edd quickly fisted the comforter because the movement rubbed their groins together and even the most relaxed pair of jeans would be ripping at the seams right about now.
“S-Sorry, man,” Kevin groaned and those needy green eyes had Edd feeling some kind of way.
“Make it up to me,” Edd smirked as he tugged his shirt over his head and chucked it across the room.
His smirk was wiped completely off his face and he’s sure he’s ripped a hole in the comforter the way he had it balled up in his hand because Kevin jerked his hips up.
HARD.
“Kevin.”
A light snicker and hard ass smirk was his response and Edd rolled his eyes.
“C’mon, Baby. Do me,” Kevin whispered and Edd’s whole body is suddenly on fire.
“Wha?”
The shocked look in those baby blue eyes made him grin and Kevin knew they were going to have some fun.
Kevin grabs his hips as hard as he can and pulls Edd toward him quick. When they’re nose to nose, he whispers again, “Do me.”
It’s an order.
A needy ass order.
But Edd’s scared because he has never been this in charge before.
“I-I…”
“C’mon, Edd,” he whispers against his lips as his hands start to unbuckle Edd’s belt.
Edd was thisclose to coming alright.
“What’s the problem?” Kevin whined as he unbuttoned his jeans wanting nothing more than the dick inside them to fuck his insides out.
Show no fear.
It was something Eddy taught him when they were kids.
No one can scare you if you’re not scared. No one can doubt you if you’re not doubting yourself. There is no fear to be had if you’re not fearful.
But Kevin’s shown him how to be honest.
If something is wrong, fix it. If you have an issue with someone, talk it out. If you tell the truth, you have nothing to be afraid of because the truth harbors no lies.
Edd grabs his hands, sighs, looks him straight in the eyes and said, “I’ve never topped before.”
Kevin stared at him for a brief moment before exclaiming, “WHAT?! HOW?!”
Edd shrugged and Kevin...grinned.
“Oh, this is gonna be FUN.”
Edd’s brain shorted out for a second before firing back up on all cylinders.
“What!? You still want me to do it?!”
“Wouldn’t have you here if I didn’t!”
Instead of the smile his heart was trying to put on his face, Edd pouted as hard as he could.
“Really?”
“I think you know more than you know,” Kevin answered with a wink and Edd shoved him back into the bed.
But the former pitcher’s hands were still fast and he grabbed the other’s arms and pulled him in for a hug as he fell back into the bed.
Not a second later, he was thrusting his hips into Edd’s, whispering, “Do me, do me, do me,” as Edd wiggled away.
“Fine!” He laughed, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Where’s your stuff?”
Kevin shoved his jeans into the floor and skipped out of his briefs as he danced to his dresser, opened the third drawer, fished around in the back and pulled out a box of condoms and a tube of lube.
“Oooh, the Target kind,” Edd said as he caught the items Kevin tossed at him.
“It’s no KY, but -”
It was then they locked eyes again and three seconds later, Kevin’s flying back into the bed.
Kevin stacked his few pillows behind him to lean into while Edd got out of his pants.
“Just say the word and I’ll stop if it hurts, ok?” Edd said as he crawled back on the bed.
Kevin tossed himself back, spread eagle style, and said, “DO ME!”
A lubed finger slowly rubbing circles around his rectum shut his teasing mouth and Edd’s mouth was on his own as the finger pushed itself inside.
Kevin had one hand in his hair, the other on his own dick, while Edd’s finger toyed with more than his prostate.
This may have been Edd’s first rodeo on the giving end, but it wasn’t Kevin’s first time being a catcher.
He switch hit all through high school and college, but in the bedroom, things weren’t the same.
Guys would brush him off as a wanna be tough pansy, girls thought he was too much.
As he got older, it was more of the same.
And he was tired of the one night stands, the hiding behind being “just friends,” meeting the parents but quickly being dropped because he was too…
It was all too painful until he met Edd at a mutual friend’s birthday party.
He took things slow like Nazz suggested, let Edd lead when it seemed like he was comfortable doing so, compromised as needed.
But now, he’s feeling needy and Edd is catching what he’s putting down.
When Edd bottomed out, all he could think about was sucking his dick.
Jesus, it felt good.
“Please breathe, Kevin.”
He could barely open his eyes, but when he did, Edd was straining.
He was red all over, glistening with sweat, every muscle in his arms was popping out as he braced his fists into the comforter.
He was barely breathing himself and Kevin could almost make out the heartbeat in his chest.
Fuck, he was sexy.
“Fuck me,” he whispered as his eyes fell close again, hands reaching out for Edd’s hips to bring him closer, to make him move.
The fingertips touching him was like electricity, making him lean closer, to get more of the fiery touch. As he did so, the tightness around his cock gave way to smooth warmth and Kevin moaned.
“Please.”
Hands reached hips and Edd slammed into him, catching the next moan in his mouth.
And the next.
And the next.
And the next.
But his dick needed MOAR.
Sitting up, he scooped Kevin’s legs under his arms, and slammed into him again and again, making Kevin’s back arch off the bed, his jaw dropped opened in a silent scream.
His dick throbbed as it bounced on his stomach, leaking dribbles of cum, and Edd’s so turned on he may just burst into flames.
And as good as it all felt, everything in Kevin told him to do what he really wanted, his ankles be damned.
He reached out for Edd again, and when he leaned in, Kevin’s calves shot to his shoulders, forcing Edd on his knees. He then locked his ankles together, wrapped his arms around them, and screamed when Edd hit his prostate.
“Are you -?!”
“DON’T STOP.”
Edd knew the position well. But to be on the giving end of it had his brain melting.
No one lasted long here and now he knew why.
Everything was tight and hot and slick. He wanted nothing more than to give into it all, so he did.
As Kevin screamed his name, he growled as he chased his orgasm to the finish line.
Watching Kevin stroke himself off as he did so was by far the sexiest thing he’d probably ever see.
He didn’t know what to do to see it again, but damn he was going to give it his best shot.
Biting Kevin’s neck as he did him was a good start as the redhead pulled his hair and cheered him on.
When they both collapsed, Edd could only say, ‘You’re really flexible.”
“Thanks,” Kevin huffed with a grin. “I have a great yoga teacher.”
“I’m sending them an apple.”
“She prefers peaches.”
They both had a bit of a chuckle as they detangled themselves from each other. Edd was a bit surprised that he had enough energy to move, but he took it and ran. First to the linen closet for a towel to clean up, the kitchen for a drink, and then to the shower.
It was well after midnight when they collapsed back into the bed again.
“Kevin?”
“Mhm?”
“I have a yoga teacher, too.”
Kevin snorted, reached an arm around him to grab an ass cheek, and said, “We’ll see what you’ve learned in the morning.”
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Behold another Lost Boys holiday special! It was between this and Valentine’s day, but honestly I love writing Christmas specials, its such a cozy time despite the high suicide rates, but lets not get into that. A BIG SHOUT OUT TO @imlostinsantacarla FOR HELPING ME EDIT MY FINAL DRAFT!
Fun Fact! My husband, David (yes, that is actually his name) actually does have the bah humbug hat I mention in the head canons. He’s a heavy metal goth so when I found it at the store I had to get it for him. And you just know if our David found that, he wouldn’t be able to resist it!
Christmas with the Boys
Alright, so the whole touchy, feely and mushy feelings that surround even the topic of Christmas time is not something any of the boys will ever openly admit to enjoying. After all, they see themselves as these bad ass brutal killers who thrive off of death instead of holding hands and caroling with the goodie goodies of this coastal town.
Yet, it's challenging for them not to get sucked into the glitz and glam of the holiday season. Everything is a big deal in Santa Carla. Dia De Los Muertos, Halloween, Thanksgiving- everything! But especially Christmas.
Christmas in Santa Carla dwarfs the frenzy craze of Halloween. The entirety of the boardwalk is decked out with red and green lights that are tightly wound around palm trees, red bulbous bows are wrapped tightly around street lamps, the reds and whites of velvety fabric swirl down the posts, creating the effect of candy canes. All the store windows are painted to appear frosted, or covered with painted snowmen whilst several rooftops are covered with white felt in which mimics the texture and sight of snow. Even the boats in the harbour are all extravagantly decorated in a sea of lights that parade around brightly at night in every color imaginable.
Between the dates of the 30th of November all the way to the 24th of December the city of Santa Carla hosts a plethora of wondrous events in it's annual Holiday Festival. Large green, white and red kiosks are erected, selling a wide range of baubles and treats, from delectable chocolate coated rice krispy Santa Clauses, elf candy apples caked in a plethora of dark chocolate and peppermint, to a variety of Holiday hats, masks and even hand made costumes by the many local artists. Even hand carved candles in wondrous scents of pine, mint, or spice.
Currently, David possesses a black fur Santa hat which he acquired on a night out that boasts the words "Bah Humbug" proudly sewn over the front. It's the only holiday attire he'll even humor. Last time Marko attempted to place reindeer antlers on his head, David had set them on fire roasting atop a pan of chestnuts. Now it's not to say that he's a grinch persay. Rather, the complex and intense emotions that come hand in hand with Christmas can leave him perpetually indifferent at best, disdainful at worst. The whole occasion leaves him displeased. After all, he was an orphan who had been almost eagerly abandoned by his hooker mother left to fend for himself from the beginning, and of course never met his father. Even she could not identify which of her many clients may have been responsible. Most of his mortal life he had lived as a street rat, barely making ends meet by picking the pockets of tourists and Santa Carla citizens oblivious to the true dangers of the lower side of town. The rich and uppity classes who often snubbed their entitled noses his way would never suspect as he lurks between alleyways, leaving them cornered at knife point. It was scarce that he ever did see a kind face in the sea of those who had little interest for anyone that was not themselves. Back then it was rather uncommon for anyone to step outside their own little lives, which led to most interactions, outside of the other boys, having been met with great hostility, thus he had learned to be just as equally hostile in turn. Even the mere thought of anyone suddenly dawning a false kindness due to a certain time of year simply agitated David. It rattled him to the very core in a way very few other things did. Why bother with the lies? Couldn't people just face the very basic fact that they weren't nearly as charitable as they often deemed themselves to be? I mean, the young man had seen firsthand a family having previously snubbed a dirty homeless man with appalled disdain at the sight of his muddied clothes and dirt stained skin, only to then begin volunteering at a soup kitchen to purge whatever guilt they carried on their conscience once the holiday season began. The whole ordeal was pitiful! Nevertheless, - more so for Paul and Marko's sakes than his own -, he did humor these traditions amongst the holiday's festivities. Ruining a good time just wasn't his style. Unless they started fucking singing.
Most traditions David could tolerate, some he even enjoyed slightly; although he would never be caught dead admitting something as embarrassing as that! However, he just couldn't stand Christmas carols! They were the bain to his immortal existence. The repetitive nature of these overly cheery jingles left him covering his ears lest they nest in his brain leaving him humming the same damn melody for weeks. This was the case because the dynamic duo of dumbasses were well aware of his hatred for Rudolph the Red Nosed fuckin' roadkill! Stupid red nosed abomination.
“OOOOOOH-,” Paul begins with cheerful mischief.
“Don’t. You. Fucking. Dare.” David seethes through tightly clenched teeth, eyes screwed shut in indignance.
Paul hesitates. He looks at Marko. Marko looks at Paul. Wicked grins of agreement spread wide like wildfire across their faces as their master plan comes into play. Full throttle. What’s more fun than annoying the shit out of David? One on the left, the other on the opposite side of the cave on the right. This was nothing but Divine perfection if you asked the two troublesome vampires.
“OOOOOH DASHING THROUGH THE SNOW!” Paul belted out at full volume.
“IN A ONE HORSE OPEN SLEIGH!” Marko followed in suit, the widest eerie grin plastered on his face.
“OVER THE HILLS WE GOOOO” Paul howled enthusiastically.
“I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU BOTH!” David's voice hit a whole new octave it had never in all his life so far. All the while Dwayne had opted to vacate the room lest he be caught in the middle of the escalating madness with Laddie in tow. He loved these guys, but not enough to dive head first into their fuckery.
Paul thrives during the Christmas holidays! How could he not? The food, the punk rock covers of Christmas songs, the absolute babes prancing around the town in Santa hats under mistletoe?! He loved it all! You can find him sneaking under mistletoe with many sweet honeys on a constant basis, regardless of whether or not he's acquainted with them. Most do roll their eyes or laugh it off, but every once in a blue moon the guy will get a little lovin' from a beach babe in the Yuletide mood. What else could he ask for? You can bet he’ll run into the woods December first, and quite literally RIP a pine tree out of the ground to bring home like a wee carrot being plucked from the ground. The bigger the better! He may even drag Dwayne or Marko along with him if it's too big for him to carry himself. And all the boozy drinks he can concoct up? This boy is in his element! Mulled wine, spiked eggnog, candy cane vodka, butterscotch bourbon hot chocolate?! Yes! David straight up refuses to try anything that Paul creates himself (remember the concoction he made in Max's kitchen? Those poor goldfish....) which is also another reason why he has Dwayne help him. Or rather, the other boys insist the most responsible of them monitors the blonde lest he poison them with some sickly brew. That, and the fact that Dwayne's the least likely out of all of them to blow up the damn kitchen!
Dwayne is indeed the designated cook during the holiday rush, albeit a field even he tends to struggle. Avoiding the kitchen catching aflame, perfecting his craft lest he blow up the stove, leaving only a pile of ash in its wake. As previously mentioned, ever since the dreadful chain of events that lead to the unfortunate destruction of Max's kitchen, this raven haired vampire has attempted his hand at learning to use a stove properly: Although he often finds himself forgetting ingredients either in the midst of cooking or after the final product is done and he's taken a big bite.
“Shit! I forgot the milk and eggs!” Dwayne grumbled with a mouthful of dry crumbs, a true disgrace of a cookie.
Paul always gives him crap for it of course.
“Oooh I just thought you were going for a sandy, dusty dry cookie kinda thing.”
"Yeah man, these taste like ass!" Marko would cough out in midst of choking.
"And what, like you dumbasses could do any better," Dwayne retorts with a huff. Only Star manages to have any manners when testing his failed baking endeavors.
"Well I mean, the taste isn't that bad. Just a little dry is all."
"At least Marko wouldn't be choking to death." David would mutter from the darkest corner of the room, a little late in the conversation.
In all honesty, Dwayne's biggest motivation when it came to improving his skills was obviously Laddie. The kid never got much of a Christmas whilst living with his mom, so now that he was with the boys, he wanted to ensure that Christmas's were something that Laddie would remember for all eternity. Though granted, it is quite the mess when he was helping in the kitchen. But when the mini vamp grins from ear to ear whilst coated in flour and rapidly stirring an overflowing bowl of chunky cookie dough--the sight is too freaking cute!
Since Laddie joined the boys, they participate in Secret Santa every single year, which definitely includes Paul bursting through the entrance of the hotel as Santa on Christmas day. We won't talk about the fact that each year he almost falls flat on his face and swears, ruining the surprise for the kid.
"Santa where are your reindeer," he'd question, to which Santa Paul scoffs
"Pff, reindeer, I don't need any fucki- Ow," cut off by a firm and covert kick to the shin from Star, Paul quickly changes his response. "Oh! Ho ho, well, you see little boy, Santa can fly too! On his, uh, uhm… magic motorcycle! Yeah, that!"
But it's okay because Laddie already KNEW (he figured it out a year or two ago after Paul's beard fell off not once, but three times), he just doesn't have the heart to tell any of them because, well Paul really gets into it. And he knows the others are playing along for his sake. But to be fair, Laddie would have to be pretty dumb to believe it was Santa. I mean, the beard Paul's wearing is hanging half off his face by this point! But anyway, just like Paul's style, the entirety of the goody two shoes schpiel is thrown out the window, replaced with sleeves that have been ripped off, muddy boots, spiked bracelets and his Metallica shirt in full view beneath his flared red coat. He calls this BIKER CLAUS!
Laddie is not a squasher of traditions! But there was the one time that David had to intervene when Paul and Dwayne thought it would be great to use Laddie as the star at the top of the tree. David practically had a heart attack. Well, that's impossible but it still felt like he was having one!
“Ho ho ho! Now, don’t be a bitch, little David or Santa will have to give you coal.” Paul stated mockingly to David, brows furrowed.
“Well, Santa,” David scolds, a wry smile developing on his face when setting down the eight year old now off to shake his presents beneath their behemoth of a tree. “You best be careful. You never know what's in those milk and cookies, hm?”
Each year Marko buys bird toys for the pigeons in the hotel. Well, buy is probably the wrong word. More like he liberates the stores of their stock. And then for the next six months, David has to hear the agonizing jingle of bells. David almost roasted one pigeon in particular that kept flying over him to drop the ball with a bell in it on his head. That was Paul's entertainment for the next five hours, hell, he'd try to find it if the bird lost it and give it back. Marko defends the pigeon. Between running through stores buying up surprises for his friends, he's helping Paul throw out decorations for the cave. The dollar store has some surprisingly unexpected treasures, allowing him to deck the fucking halls to the max. Tinsel here, ornaments there, tiny light up trees to hide around the caves, a butt ton of cinnamon pine cones which he ends up throwing back and forth with Paul.
And Paul often steals his gifts or goes dumpster diving for any hidden gems. He forgets to take the tags off of them the majority of the time, which is always an indicator whether or not its new. Any time Star asks where he got them from he refuses to answer. Just gets up and walks away. But for David's gift? Well this lucky bastard has found coal in the dumpster and chucks it to David when he's not looking and he sighs deeply in disappointment because this is the third year Paul has done this.
"Huh? What? Who did that? Wasn't me. Somebody's throwing stuff."
Other than that he'll find a fat bag of charcoal and just tape the name David on it. David is certainly not amused. Dwayne will actually try to figure out what the others want, and has the sense to save the money taken from their previous meals. After all, they're dead, they wouldn't have much use for it anyway. He's not about to waste his hypnosis on some poor cashier. That would be a waste of time in his eyes.
When Christmas did arrive the tree was piled with mysterious boxes crudely mashed and taped together with bows and ribbons underneath it. It's obvious which ones are from Star since those gifts are wrapped in neatly pressed paper, wound tight beneath curled ribbons that remind the boys of her hair. Marko often goes on a food run rather than allow them all to be subjected to a potentially charred turkey, no offense to Dwayne of course. So, with a table covered from end to end with copious bowls of gravy, potatoes, candied sweet potatoes, a beast of a turkey in the center packed to the brim with cornbread stuffing, the boys cram into their chairs knocking back beers and spiked cider. Keeping to their own traditions, after fattening up, they gather around the tree and play card games, just as they had over eighty years ago on that frigid night. David still slays them in poker, and Marko is an utter dark horse when it comes to blackjack. Paul insists they try Go Fish. No one ever wants to play Go Fish. Closer towards the end of the night Dwayne will slip away to Jasper's shrine and bring him a fresh glass of rum as well as unwrapping what he got him that year. While Dwayne is there, the other boys will join him - omitting Star and Laddie left unaware of the Lost Boy they'd never met - in celebrating the last hour or so of the Holiday season with their fallen comrade.
Although Christmas time is often about uncomfortable mushy moments and emotions that create deep, unfamiliar times for David. The entire ordeal becomes that for everyone of the boys and Star. But God forbid anyone who even mentions it! I mean, it's kinda obvious though considering he's spending it with the people he always called family, knee deep in traditions that are sentimental to himself and the boys. There's a fluster of emotions running rampant during this particular Holiday Season, and although the blonde brooding vampire decides to squint at it with skepticism he savors these moments, knowing like Jasper, it could all be swept away with a single ray of light or the foolish hand of a hunter. So as they sit, drunk, full, and laughing beside Jasper's grave he can't help but smile at the sentimentality of it all. Christmas is a pain in the ass, but… it's a pain he'll gladly sit through for his brothers.
#lost boys imagine#lost boys 1987#lost boys#the lost boys#lost boys paul#lost boys imagines#lost boys dwayne#lost boys david#lost boys marko#christmas#holiday imagine#tis the season#lost boys head canon#headcanon#lost boys vampires#vampire boys#vampires#vampire#fanfiction writing#lost boys fanfiction#fan theory#fanfiction#fanfic
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a treatise on chocolates
For @professorflowers ‘s wonderful Ineffable Lovebirds AU!
--
Around lunchtime one early winter morning, a demon let himself into an angel’s apartment, humming Mozart softly under his breath with a box of chocolates tucked under one arm.
Crowley had given Zira a key in the mid-seventies when he first moved in. It had seemed the safest course of action, since the demon couldn’t call and preferred not to text, though he would use the ‘confounded contraption’ known as a mobile in a pinch. They both knew it eased Zira’s frazzled nerves knowing he could show up at Crowley’s flat unannounced and be welcome there. Yes, he would admit he could be a bit clingy at times, but if his friend took issue with it, he never said.
The angel in question, admonishing a room full of green and thoroughly chastened plants, brightened as he knocked on the doorframe.
“Hello, dove,” Crowley greeted, spray bottle raised in disappointment over a drooping monstera. Zira signed Hello, Crowley with his free hand, a wave and the curled C motion curved over his heart. It had, at one point, meant safe. Over the years, they had established it as Crowley’s name.
For a human unacquainted with angels (and that was...well, all of them), Crowley wasn’t what one would expect of a member of the Host. His ripped jeans and combat boots leant a certain devil-may-care attitude, spurred on by rakish auburn locks. Delicate gold tattoos twined over his neck and chest that looked almost a natural design on his skin (indeed, they were).
However, Crowley exuded such an air of love and life, warm as a blanket and comforting as a hug, that humans couldn’t help but understand his inherent Goodness on some level. He’d been that way since the day they met, a beacon of light in an otherwise dark, cruel world.
“Come here, swan.” Strong arms enfolded him in a gentle embrace - more kindness than he’d ever been shown before - and Zira couldn’t help but bury his bloodied face in the angel’s clean white robes.
“It’s okay, now, I’ve got you,” the angel soothed, “I won’t let anything hurt you again.”
And he hadn’t. Zira was eternally grateful for that.
The demon waited for Crowley to finish scolding his plants before he pushed the box of chocolates into his hands.
“What’s this, then?”
Hands now free, Zira explained that a fan of his music had sent the chocolates to his studio, without realizing he would be unable to eat them. A gold-tipped nail stroked the edge of the red ribbon tied around the box as Crowley smiled.
“Oh, I see,” he said, “You want a taste?”
Zira nodded emphatically.
“Go on, then, get comfortable.”
The scar on the right side of Zira’s lips pulled into a pleased half-smile. Zira sat himself on the couch in the living room and wriggled excitedly, nervous fingers drumming staccato on his knees. Crowley left his gold eyes uncovered as he took a seat next to him. The red ribbon fell clean off with a snap.
“Hm, let’s see. Which first?” Zira pointed to a dark chocolate with pink drizzle. “Ah, excellent choice.”
Without further ado, Crowley plucked the chocolate from its gold casing and bit into it slowly. Dark, anxious eyes watched as Crowley chewed with care. The angel took a moment’s pause.
“Strawberry nougat,” he decided, “Summer’s day in St. Jame’s. One of the first really warm ones, when the sun’s baking but it’s heavenly on your skin after the winter. Kids running around yelling, there’s a pop-up carnival somewhere with candy floss. Vivaldi.”
Zira didn’t wait for him to pick a second, instead selecting another and handing it over in a move that was somehow graceful in its quickness. Crowley bit into it with gusto.
“Oooh, spiced caramel, lovely. Autumn night, crisp outside but warm and smoky by the fire. Remember that All Hallow’s Eve in the tavern, the one in Ireland? Yeah, that’s the ticket. Grieg. With the mountain king, you know the one.”
On they went, Zira picking, Crowley tasting and dutifully relaying their tastes in senses he could relate to. Demons didn’t need to eat or drink, which Zira was thankful for, but sometimes...well. He often wished he could.
A crisp apple, sweet juice, tender flesh, and then -
Pain. Hot and awful, a sharp, metallic scent in the air as he choked on the sword’s end.
“Such a shame,” his superior sighed, though they didn’t sound very put out at all, “I didn’t think angels could do the wrong thing.”
And so he Fell.
It had been odd, the first time he had asked; a little embarrassing, too. It was prior to the start of the Arrangement, when they were mere workplace associates. But Crowley had caught on quick to his desperate, confused hand motions as Zira struggled to put wants into words. Eaten the jewelled pomegranate seeds with halting, stuttered descriptions. Melted at the wistfully content look Zira wore as he did.
He’d never mentioned it, never questioned, never judged. Not in 6,000 years, and certainly not now.
Crowley sighed and leaned back theatrically. “Don’t think I could eat another bite.” To which Zira shook the box at him, urging. He laughed.
“Dove, I just ate fourteen sweets!”
The demon hummed, nudging their knees together. Dark eyes wide, scarred mouth pouted. Pleading.
“Oh, fine, alright, one more. Spoiled duckie.” The angel shoved lightly at Zira’s head, where wings would have manifested if the demon were truly irked by him. Zira batted his hand away in retaliation, somehow managing the look of sticking his tongue out at him despite that he had none.
The last one was a sort of honey-toffee crunch. Crowley smiled.
“The Arrangement,” he said immediately, to Zira’s confusion, “Bit hard to bite into at first go, but once you get there, sickeningly sweet. Springtime at the flower show. Sort of - hang on, sort of like this.”
And Crowley leant forward to peck a quick kiss on the demon’s lips. So flustered was he that his secondary swan wings popped out comically from the sides of his head, cheeks blushing scarlet. The angel knew better than to laugh at that uncontrollable reaction, and gently smiled instead.
“I can numb it, at least.”
Zira hiccuped a sob, confused, vision blurred and mouth in agony. He could barely see the hands that reached for him as they cupped his face, surprised at the inherent tenderness the motion brought. Even more surprising were the soft lips that pressed against his, soothing the worst of the injury until it was an afterthought.
“There,” Crowley said, “That should calm the pain.”
“Let’s go to the park, swan.”
Zira, still flushed, although he had gotten his wings under control, frowned. It’s cold, he signed. Crowley shrugged.
“I’m an angel. I’ll have to keep you warm, right? Job description and all.”
The blinding smile he got in return was all the response he needed.
--
I scrolled through all of this AU’s posts and I tried to keep it as close to its canon as possible, but there wasn’t much on Zira’s feelings about food (which I wanted to explore given the nature of his Fall here) so hopefully I did right by the boys!
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Johnny Snapshots
@onereyofstarlight Okay, let’s face it, I live in the land of the Virg and John is one of the hardest for me to tackle (the other being Alan who I do a disservice to on a regular basis). So I don’t read much John focussed fic. Not that I don’t love the boi, it’s just...oooh, look a bright shiny Virg! :D
So in order to get Johnny fluff for you, I only really have my pile of Virg-focussed fic to play with, though I can recommend reading stuff from @the-lady-razorsharp and @willow-salix cos they claim Johnny as their boi and write lots of stuff focussed on their space noodle :D
While looking for my previous post in my archives, I came across a snippet of John from one of my fics and got the idea of little Johnny Snapshots. So, here from amongst all my Virg fic, have a little Johnny Nutty-style.
Note: Snapshots from all sorts of fic, looking for fluff, spoilers for everything, several AUs, several ships, pretty much potluck and lots of description of the Johnny :D And while I’ve included links to the fics, the fics themselves are likely Virgil focussed and there may not be much more of John in them than is already here. You’ve probably read some of these before, too.
I hope you enjoy anyway :D
-o-o-o-
A ghost drifted on the breeze.
White as an angel, pale as the moonlight sculpting his form, his next youngest brother rode the air currents above the island.
The only word to describe John was elegant. Airborne porcelain, he circled. Midnight starlight cascaded through Virgil’s mind. Expressions of sorrow draped in calm, warmed by an amber light, the steady core of his star-loving brother.
Virgil watched mesmerised as his turns became tighter and tighter, closer to the ground. A great arch of white feathers and he landed gently, barely disturbing the sand beneath his bare feet.
He was gleaming in the moonlight from toe to hooded gaze. Ever so pale skin, free to be bare to the elements with the absence of the sun, his only clothing was a cut off pair of jeans so faded they were more white than blue.
Only his hair had colour, flame caught in just the right flash of light.
Decision
-o-o-o-
When he woke, the sun was making for the horizon, the whole island cast in gold.
“Hey, Virgil.”
The soft melodious voice of his space borne brother was lacking its usual transmission static and it was a pleasant surprise to roll over and find John sitting on a lounger beside him. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself. How are you feeling?”
First question of any brother to any injured brother, of course. “Good, actually.” And he was. Relaxed, pain at a minimum, a gorgeous sunset in preparation, and... “Great to see you down here.” Virgil didn’t admit it often, but he did miss his middle brother. Didn’t really like him so far out of reach. But John loved it, so it was what it was. Didn’t mean Virgil couldn’t be happy to see him when he could. “What brings you to this little planet?”
The sun was sculpting John’s pale features and white shirt in almost molten gold, merging his skin with his copper hair. The odd thought of some kind of Greek god fluttered through the back of Virgil’s mind. He shook himself mentally. What the hell?
V.T. Green
-o-o-o-
John appreciates a fine meal. Of the five brothers, he is the one who will know about the wine. He’ll know which region it came from, what it should be eaten with and which year grew the plant it was made from. This, of course, means he is the most likely culprit to steal Scott’s boutique beers out of the fridge…to the point that one of the first signs of the middle brother being back on Earth is the sudden missing bottles from said refrigerator.
Virgil thinks it is hilarious.
Scott’s worried his brother is a secret alcoholic and keeps monitoring his intake.
Alan keeps messing with Scott’s head by pinching extra bottles to ‘up John’s intake’.
Gordon messes with everyone by refilling the bottles with apple juice.
But yes, John is the one to appreciate a good meal, most likely because he has to eat all that space crap eighty percent of the time.
Food, Tracy style
-o-o-o-
A sigh. “Um....never have I ever...er...been arrested?” Surely, they hadn’t done that?
“Are you kidding me?” Gordon, glugged down some more drink. “That’s an easy one. Paris. The Louvre.”
What?
Scott raised his hand holding his glass. “Gordon.” As if that explained everything. He swallowed heavily.
Alan snorted, rolled and fell face first onto the carpet.
Gordon laughed. “Hey, bro. Time to take another drink. Remember the teddy bear at the fair?”
“Crap.” Alan grabbed his glass and toasted the air. “Gordon.” Apparently, it did explain everything.
“Gordon.” Kayo said it like a zombie and swallowed some more alcohol. Ridley just stared at her, but was distracted as apparently not-so-asleep John attempted to locate his glass by pawing blindly at the carpet with one hand. His mumbled “Gordon.” Was almost muffled as Ridley tried to grab his arm.
“Lawn flamingo.” Virgil attempted to bring the drink to his mouth, but missed and threw it over his shoulder instead. “Oops.”
Em blinked.
“Okay, that’s it. I’m calling this game. Off to bed with the lot of you. I have the strongest feeling that I should have taken Grandma’s advice and gone to bed early myself.”
There were many a muttered groan, mostly of ‘Awww’ and her name, but the brothers mostly stumbled to their feet. Kayo had to drag Virgil off of Em. The man was heavy.
Ridley smiled at her as she manhandled her space noodle off into their rooms. John was muttering something about ‘Gordon’s fault...didn’t want to do that in a book store.’ Penny helped Alan to his rooms, all the time shooting glares at Gordon.
“What?” The aquanaut looked non-plussed. “What did I do?”
“Gordon, go look after your brother.” Scott’s voice was firm. He still hadn’t relaxed.
Em sighed, grabbed his arm and, activating her hoverjets, pulled him up. “C’mon, Commander, time for bed.”
“Em.” And suddenly she was in his arms.
“Flyboy, your blood alcohol content can be detected from space.”
“Space!” John’s voice echoed down the hallway.
“Not today, spaceman, you’d miss TB5 and end up on Mars.” Ridley was obviously being very patient.
“Not Mars. Wrong trejacktory.” A closing door shut off the rest of the mumbled maths that followed.
Never Have I Ever
-o-o-o-
John sighed, walked over to the bed and sat on the edge in echo of something he had done so many times as a boy. He used to come in here and talk Virgil’s ear off about space and stars and his latest science projects. Virgil, in turn, would nod, say the right things at the right time and generally be the good older brother. John suspected that Virgil hadn’t understood half of what he was saying, but the older boy had never said anything. Not that Virgil wasn’t smart, just his interests lay in different areas.
They were both quiet by nature and Virgil’s patience drew John to him. Mostly because he would listen. One of the hardest things about being a far above average student with very specific interests was finding someone to talk to about them. John wasn’t a big talker outside the family, but that was because society in general was lost two words into any sentence he wanted to construct. John had no use for general gossip when he had spent the day discovering a new extra-solar object. Who cared who won the football when Neptune was aligning with Earth in a way that wouldn’t happen for another one hundred and sixty five years?
It was Virgil who stopped and listened as a young John Tracy babbled about his latest discoveries.
He was his big brother.
The House
-o-o-o-
Unfortunately, distracted, he didn’t see brother number three and collided with him, nearly sending both of them to the floor.
“Oh, god, sorry…J-“ His hands met soft silk and he looked up, this time truly focussing on his tall brother.
Oh my god.
He must truly have some kind of sibling radar because there was no way in hell he could have recognised his brother otherwise.
“John?”
“Hey, Virgil.”
And yes, that was a smirk on that face.
He eyed the man from bottom to top. High heeled boots in shiny black leather. Black tights! High cut, buttoned up, deep blue coat sequined in an elaborate filigree with almost ankle length tails. The ends of his sleeves flared out like flowers over leather gloves. And a white silk cravat wrapped his throat with about ten layers of frills.
But all that didn’t live up to the hair. Oh, god, the hair. Gone was the familiar red, replaced with a fountain of silver white, springing in strands from the top of his head like a spray of leafless weeping willow, long enough to reach his chest.
Virgil stared. “Are you wearing makeup?”
The smirk widened and, yes, there was some kind of lip gloss to go with the elaborate eyeshadow arching into his brows.
Blink. “Wh-who are you?”
“Why, my dear child,” and John tapped him on the head with his ornamental riding crop. “I’m the Goblin King.”
Another blink. “Who?” He couldn’t recall ever seeing a goblin who looked quite like that.
And the more familiar John rolled his eyes. “A friend of mine advised me that this would be easier if I made myself completely unrecognisable. She is a fan of old movies, so I picked one.”
Virgil narrowed his eyes. “She?”
“She.”
“Okay.” He eyed his brother again. “I’ll take your word for it.”
A Warm Rain Halloween (wip)
-o-o-o-
It had been three days. His brother was now hooked up to several IVs and other invasive support mechanisms, his unconscious body needing assistance to survive. The usually agile, calm and kind man now lay pale, his hair unkempt and limp, eyes bruised smudges on his lifeless face, hands wrapped in copious bandages.
Virgil reached over and ran his fingers through that blond and red hair, attempting to straighten it out, forcing the flick to behave itself.
“C’mon, John, speak to me.” Virgil’s voice was little above a whisper. “I can’t do this without you.” And the statement was suddenly true. Spoken without thought, Virgil realised that through everything that had happened to him in the last few months, John had been there, even when Virgil was too terrified to see him, John had stood strong while his brother dragged him through the mud. He had done everything in his power, everything, to support Virgil. “God, don’t let a faulty circuit be your epitaph, you are worth so much more than that. So much more.”
He needed his brother’s dry wit. He needed his calm voice. He needed him.
Virgil let his head drop to the bed.
Please.
Father
-o-o-o-
John hated crowds, especially those involving the press. Scott went out of his way to make sure he wasn’t exposed to them, but his brother wasn’t available right now.
Head down, no eye contact. “No comment.”
“No comment.”
They crowded in on him and he grit his teeth.
A sharp crack and a yelp. A squawk and the clattering of plastic on concrete. A scream and a flash of light. John looked up to find holocams falling like rain. One close to him simply stopped and dropped. Another sparked, spun and dove at the nearest reporter. She screamed and ran.
The holocam chased her.
Oh.
The crowd began to disperse in erratic squeals and yelps of fear. John took advantage and dashed through to the doors of the hospital. Behind him, the elevator fired its thrusters, adding to the confusion, and launched towards orbit.
“Eos, you are dangerous.”
“Yes, John, and don’t you forget it.” The amusement in her voice had him smiling.
“Thank you.”
“You are welcome.”
Dirt
-o-o-o-
The only one standing entirely upright was her middle grandson. He brought up the rear, his tall, lithe form fluid as he walked. As always, his red hair was startling against his golden baldric. His eyes tracked around the room, his expression cool and controlled, but as his grandmother, she could see the tells of worry and exhaustion.
The great silver form of Eos sat on his arm preening her feathers. Every so often, the hawk would pause and survey the room, just like her bearer, her startling red eyes catching everything. Sal would never understand that relationship, but it had saved her family more than once and she was grateful, if still wary.
The Prince Who Would Not be King
-o-o-o-
If the quiet lifestyle is more your thing, you may wish to upgrade to John Tracy. ‘Up’ is the keyword here as he resides twenty-two thousand miles up, in orbit, in fact. Yes, John is the original space Tracy. Fully adapted to the cold and dark beyond our atmosphere, he does indeed adore the quiet life.
However, before we tempt you any further, it should be noted that John is the only Tracy brother who is a parent. A single parent at that. Inadvertent though her existence is, Eos is recognised as John’s daughter and she presents a number of unique challenges, the least of which is what she will do to your bank accounts if you upset her. Yes, if you are looking for bankruptcy, offending Eos is a fantastic way to achieve your goal.
In summary, don’t piss off the kid.
Having said that, should she approve of your existence, Eos is quite capable of enhancing that existence should she so choose. In any case, John’s daughter is a great conversationalist, even if she has locked you in the bathroom.
John himself sports arguably the most stunning eyes of all the five brothers. Alan, please be quite and Scott, sit down.
A unique pair of turquoise irises that contrast exquisitely with his copper hair makes for a stunning date to have on your arm. The only downside is that arm may need to be handcuffed to yours if you intend on going anywhere involving more than six people at a time.
Our space Tracy is not a social being. Despite communication as a profession, John Tracy has been heard to wish to only speak to others from space. This may include you. Please keep your phone charged at all times.
It should also be noted that if your phone battery is dead and John wishes to contact you, he may hack an appliance as mundane as your toaster. Communicating via the temperature controls in the shower has been reported. Virgil was not impressed.
John is one of the taller Tracys. Unlike Scott, however, heels may not be needed as ninety-five percent of the time John is in space, so if you are planning to get to know him, you’re going to be in space too. Just float up to look him in those gorgeous eyes.
A fan of spaceball and Star Trek, John is your traditional loveable geek. Be aware that his neighbour knows this and you may want to lock all the airlocks in case she comes knocking for a cup of sugar.
John is definitely a good investment and comes with a space station to boot. You will be able to spend many hours stargazing both at the universe and those irises.
Plus One Tracy
-o-o-o-
Oh, I do have a couple of John focussed fics. The fluffiest is Bagel.
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Outside the center is an Error. A big one. A very big one. Just standing there awkwardly, looking around, kind of hunching in on himself. People are staring at him and he seems like he wants to be anywhere but here.
“Hello?” Huitzi steps outside, looking up at the nearly twenty feet of skeleton. “Can I help you?”
“I’m Titan.” The Error says, sticking his hand out and nearly bashing Huitzi in the face.
“I am Huitzilopochtli, but you may call me Huitzi if you so desire.” Huitzi says hesitantly, taking Titan’s hand only to yelp and drop it.
Titan sort of wince-smiles and shoves his hand in his pocket, glitches climbing up it.
“Weird name.” He says while Huitzi winces and tries to massage the feeling back into his fingers.
“I am aware.” Huitzi frowns. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“I’m looking for someone.” Titan says, leaning down to peer through the windows. “He’s real small.”
“Sir, this is a bitty shop.” Huitzi flares his wings, their gold blocking the glass. “Nearly all of our residents can be considered such.”
Titan grumbles and stands upright again.
“About as big as my thumb.” Titan says, sticking it up to demonstrate.
“We have many bitties in that size.” Huitzi sighs. “If you are looking for a companion to adopt, I will be more than happy to bring a few out to meet you, but if you are trying to find a certain individual you will have to be more specific.”
The Error scowls.
“Little skeleton, black skull, some stars going up his face, purpley blue limbs.”
“Does this skeleton have a name?” Huitzi asks.
“Jack.”
“I see.” Huitzi sighs, slapping a hand on the rune carved into the door and drawing his weapon as a glowing shield encases the center.
“Is that a fucking barrier?” Titan takes a shocked step back.
“I am afraid I must ask you to leave.” Huitzi levels his spear at the giant. “You are not welcome here.”
“What?” The Error asks. “But I didn’t even do anything yet!”
“Jack does not want to see you.” Huitzi says, keeping his weapon raised. “Please leave or I will be forced to attack.
“Are you serious?” Titan asks incredulously. “I come here peacefully, am polite and don’t do anything to hurt anybody and you decide to threaten me?”
He scowls and wipes his eye, hand coming away covered in string.
“What makes you think that’s a good idea?”
Huitzi’s grip tightens and his wings flare.
“Jack is one of ours now and I am this centers protector.” He proclaims. “I will not allow you to take anyone from within it.”
The Error frowns, his strings going slack. He squats down to Huitzi’s level, his head still a good distance above the Paladin’s.
“Listen, buddy,” Titan says, voice calm and patronizing, like he’s speaking to a small child or someone too stupid to know better. “I know this is your job and all, but can’t you make an exception just this once? Jack isn’t from this universe anyway, you aren’t obligated to protect him. It’s no skin off your nose if he just vanishes, and I promise I’ll leave your universe intact if you hand him over.”
“Absolutely not.” Huitzi growls, spear flashing red. “He is under my protection and that is final.”
Titan sighs deeply and stands back up.
“Alright, fine.” He says quietly, a huge bone club materializing in his hand. “I’ll try to make your death quick.”
“You will not get a chance!” Huitzi snarls, stabbing his spear forward and jolting as it’s yanked out of hands by strings before it can make contact.
“Wh- give-!” Huitzi’s words cut off with a scream as the club collides with his side, Titan taking advantage of his distraction and hitting him hard enough to dissolve a lesser monster.
Huitzi’s entire ribcage and pretty much the rest of him crumples like tissue paper and he flies across the street into, (and partially through) a parked car.
Titan walks towards him, every step he takes shaking the ground and crushing displaced bone into a fine powder.
“I’m sorry.” The Error softly says, club above his head, the skeleton below him reduced to nothing more than a wheezing pile of bone fragments and marrow.
But before he can bring it down he takes a huge blob of paint to the side that knocks him through a light pole and into a portal.
The Ink that threw it snaps the portal shut and rushes to Huitzi’s side, panic on his face.
“No no no, you can’t die yet, not when I’ve just found you!” The short human kneels, pulling out a small, green-tipped brush and swiping at the cracks in his bones. “C’mon, c’mon! Stay alive!”
Huitzi groans, his body reconstructing as the paint touches it.
“I’m- I’m alright!” He says, pushing the Ink’s hand away as he continues piling paint on his newly repaired chest. “You’ve healed me, thank you, you can stop now!”
The Ink puts the brush away without a second thought and yanks Huitzi up into a hug.
“Oh Dream, I’m so happy I’ve finally found you!” He grins, squeezing him tightly. “Didn’t think you’d be a swap though or a skeleton, since I’m not and all, but whatever, who cares, we can figure that all out later! I’m just so glad things are finally going the way they should!”
“I- I apologize,” Huitzi says, gently pushing the excited Ink back. “But I believe there is a case of mistaken identity. I am merely a being based on a Dream, nothing more.”
“Oh.” Ink says, expression going blank as he pulls away from the hug. “Goodbye then.”
“Wait!” Huitzi pushes himself up from the smashed remains of the car, wincing from the residual pain of his body not yet realizing its been healed. “Please, I may not be who you are searching for, but that does not mean I cannot help!”
The human watches him thoughtfully as Huitzi bows.
“I would be honored to fight by your side, Guardian of the Multiverse.”
The Ink stares at him for a moment more then breaks into a smile.
“I’m Nouveau.” He says, holding a hand out in Huitzi’s direction and grinning more when Huitzi takes it.
“Huitzilopochtli.” Huitzi says in turn, giving his hand a shake.
“Pleasure to meet ya, now I’mma need to just take a quick look-” Nouveau says, yanking the red-gold soul out of Huitzi’s chest with a flick of his fingers and letting the Paladin collapse with an agonized scream.
He hums to himself, turning the glowing apple over in his hands and prodding at it, each touch dragging a whimper from its owner.
“Good attack, decent defense, a little XP, nowhere near enough LV but that’s easy enough to fix, and oooh-” He pokes a bit harder, causing Huitzi to yelp. “That’s a lot of determination for someone not actively melting!”
Nouveau drops the soul with a grin, letting it thud back into Huitzi’s chest.
“Oh yeah. I can use you.”
With a swipe of his brush, a portal opens and Huitzi falls through it before he can even react.
“I look forward to working together!” Nouveau yells into it, slamming the portal shut and vanishing himself from this universe as a whole.
With Huitzi gone, the barrier falls, its occupants free once more.
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Playlist tag
I was tagged @im-the-punk-who........ I don’t remember how long ago LOL. Sorry, I left a reminder to do this buried in my drafts, as it happens too often XD Anyway, thank you for tagging me!
Rules: we’re snooping through your playlist, put your entire music library on shuffle and list the first 20 songs and then choose some victims
I took out my ipod, which is extremely old, it has a very very small screen and if you are imagining one of those Apple ipods... you are very wrong LOL. I always called it an ipod because technically you could play videos on it, I was differentiating between this and an mp3, which was music-only (does this matter? Not really).
The poor thing is a little battered but it still works (mostly: regulating the volume works depending on the positions of the planets or something), so I keep using it to avoid draining my phone’s battery. Now. There are 400 songs here (no, really, they are exactly 400, which makes me weirdly happy - round number!) and I’m putting them all on shuffle, this should be interesting...
1) Aftermath - Lifehouse: WOAH okay, just attacking me with Flinthamilton feels right off the bat, okay...
2) In the end - Linkin Park: Very old, still very much like it, sue me.
3) Wonderland (Rock Cover) - Twenty One Two: The original song is by Taylor Swift. There’s actually a good chance that I have a couple of her songs somewhere in here, though I generally don’t like her music much (not her voice or the lyrics, just the kind of music she does), but this one is a cover and I really like how they rearranged it.
4) 21 guns - Green Day: Oh god, I feel fourteen again listening to this. Still catchy though.
5) The ghost of you - My Chemical Romance: ..........digging up My Chemical Romance aren’t we
6) Wrong side of heaven - Five Finger Death Punch: Oooh yeah, good band and good song *nod of approval at my own music collection*
7) Fire and Ice - Within Temptation: I love this band, I’d be surprised if only one of their songs came up.
8) Devil’s backbone - The Civil Wars: This is a ship aesthetic and I’m proudly owning up to it.
9) Love is a fragile dance - Alec Benjamin: .......fair. every time it comes up I consider skipping it and then I just... don’t.
10) The ship is fine - The Jolly Rogers: LOOOOOOOOOOL, okay, okay, listen. Basically when I started obsessing over Black Sails at some point Youtube looked at me and went “Um. you like pirates, eh? here, try this” and recommended me some pirate songs from The Jolly Rogers... and that’s the story of how you can look into my ipod and find a bunch of pirates singing about remodeling their ship.
11) Stand my ground - Within Temptation: *looking up at number 7* Yup.
12) Out in the fields - Mono Inc: RECENT DISCOVERY BUT I LOVE THIS BAND. LOTS. LOTS LOTS LOTS.
13) No light, no light - Florence and the Machine: I.............well. this is a thing that’s in here apparently.
14) I want you here - Plumb: LOL I’ve got many tragic ships that this could be applied to... though this was the fault of a Swanfire video specifically, I’m pretty sure.
15) What about now - Daughtry: Aaaaah hello old friend.
16) Angels - Within Temptation: ........aaaaaaaaand here’s Within Temptation #3. This should probably be my answer when people ask me what’s my favourite band, instead of some version of “I have no idea, please don’t ask me that ever”.
17) Hold me now - Red: I honestly didn’t even remember this one, I haven’t listened to it in forever, I had to get to the refrain for my brain to go “OH RIGHT”.
18) Soldier - Gavin DeGraw: ...another ship aesthetic, let’s be real.
19) Right here - Ashes Remain: I’m laughing because both this and the one above sort of have an hurt/comfort theme and if that’s not who I am as a person........
20) You know my name - Chris Cornell: THIS IS SO OLD. IT’S FROM WHEN I WAS STILL EXTREMELY FIXATED ON DRAGON BALL, I REMEMBER. OH MY GOD. I LOVED IT SO MUCH. (Still love it tbh LOL)
Woah. This took forever but it was fun LOL. I don’t have enough braining left to pick people to tag right now, but if you want to do it go ahead and tag me, I’m always more than happy to discover new songs!
#thank you again for the tag these are always a wild ride lol#im-the-punk-who#tag game#not spn#ely has shit to say
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Willow Waxcraft Review--General Collection and Summer Limited Editions
I’m always on the hunt for interesting and atmospheric wax melts and am grateful that a friend introduced me to Willow Waxcraft. I admittedly spent a few days immersed in reading the notes and beautiful descriptions of the extensive catalog of scents before selecting my samples to purchase. I’m pleased with everything so far, and I look forward to the autumnal limited editions on the horizon.
Summer Limited Editions
City Block Party
Scent description: Step outside, meet the neighbors. Cola on the front steps,
gas exhaust and motor oil, green peeking through sidewalk cracks, and the ozonic rumble of an approaching rainstorm.
This one smells like sweet and peppy cola, hot concrete, and clean laundry on the line. It’s an interesting blend that is surprisingly cheerful, clean, and uplifting. I like it a lot!
Playground
Scent description: Bright and sunny litsea cubeba, fresh dirt and green grass, cedarwood chips, rusty metal swing sets, and a mildly cool water fountain.
Tart, lemony, vivid green grass and a hint of clean dirt. This is a sunny and cheerful fresh grass scent.
Porch Sittin’
Scent description: Fresh line dried laundry, sun warmed citrus tea, a pitcher of pink lemonade, and a twinkle of fireflies as the sun goes down.
Tart pink lemonade and fresh laundry! This is sweet, but also clean and refreshing. It makes for a great scent for the warmer, sticky months.
General Collection
Aurora
Scent description: The frigid, invigorating expanse at the top of the world- silent and shimmering with magical Northern Lights. Fresh citrus, rosemary, eucalyptus, peppermint, vanilla, oakmoss, and vetiver.
This is a gorgeous wintery mint blend! It’s the perfect sweet peppermint (like a candy cane), but with a slash of frosty, tame eucalyptus to keep it interesting. Really lovely and a big winner for me!
Balm of Gilead
Scent description: Lipstick (powdery violet, orris, and rose), fresh baked bread, glossy magazine pages, and sweet buttercream. Don’t let the bastards grind you down.
Oooh I love this one. This smells jusssst like expensive lipstick and magazine pages. It’s pretty wild how spot-on it is. It’s atypically clean and elegant. It’s an oddly addictive scent, and I highly recommend it!
Espero
Scent description: The conclusion of life’s journey may be uncertain, but it always begins with...I hope. Sweet grass, vanilla, hay bales, tonka, linden blossom, golden musk, and sun-warmed stone.
This is a lovely and gentle sweet grass scent. Sometimes grass scents can be sharp or harsh to my nose, but this one is really soft and lovely. It’s like a happy memory of a meadow--golden and fuzzy and soft around the edges. A lovely, cheerful, hopeful scent that I can’t imagine anyone not liking.
Ghoul-Haunted Woodland
Scent description: A dream-like walk through gloomy woods one lonesome October night- propelled by spirits or demons- where? Cool, shadowy conifers, a hint of rain, withering leaves, apples, and lavender.
I love this one! I think it would be at home in a winter or autumn collection. It’s a beautiful, mellow evergreen scent with some intrigue from the warm apple, like a cup of cider steaming in an evergreen forest.
Liber Arcana
Scent description: Peruse dusty wooden shelves and ancient tomes of forbidden knowledge-the library has the answers you seek! Old leather-bound books, rare herbs, and hints of cauldron smoke, all with a refreshing pumpkin beverage in hand for a long night of studying (or mischief!).
Oof this is a great autumnal book scent. It’s complex and interesting! Sometimes I get a big whiff of leather and old paper, and at other times I smell lots of warm pumpkin cider. A swirl of smooth smoke ties it all together. This is one of my very favorites from this order, and I look forward to melting it when the nights get longer!
Little Starling
Scent description: The comforting rumble of a washing machine, reminiscent of our last memory of peace, paired with woolen blankets, a tattoo of gunpowder, skin cream, and faded perfume.
I admittedly purchased this scent in the full size just for the label--I have a precious pet starling that I love to pieces and am a sucker for starling art. To my nose this is a simple fresh laundry scent--it’s actually giving me scent memories of doing my laundry in the dorms during college--lots of clean, basic laundry soap and tumble-drying clothes.
The Long Night
Scent description: A warm light in the darkness of Winter Solstice: Balsam fir, sacred frankincense and myrrh, beeswax candles, sweet oud, blood orange, clove, cinnamon leaf, and vanilla.
This is lovely! It evokes Yuletide pomanders--clove-studded oranges with hints of fir garlands and burning beeswax candles. A pretty and festive scent for the Winter Solstice!
Lost on the Moor
Scent description: The haunting, chilling scent of the wild Yorkshire moor-heather, lavender, moss, chamomile, ozone, juniper and elderflower.
This one surprised me! I get lots of fruity elderflower top notes with some sharp grass, a slash of ozone, and camphorous juniper in the background. I was hoping for a bit more of the heather, lavender, and moss.
Midnight Zone
Scent description: The deepest, strangest part of the ocean, where even light cannot reach. Sea kelp, salt water, patchouli, and vanilla ice cream.
This smells very familiar to me like a scent memory, but I can’t place it! It’s a nice ocean blend, with a lovely balance between the salty, kelpy elements and the mild sweetness from the ice cream.
Pool Day
Scent description: Carefree summer days. Wet concrete, salty skin, remnants of sunscreen, and chlorinated water.
This absolutely smells like the description--it’s pretty wild. It reminds me of the smell of hot, sun-warmed, pool-water-soaked concrete and sunscreen-slicked skin. This evokes happy memories of being a southern kid in the summertime, and I look forward to melting it.
Primeval Forest
Scent description: The ancient wilderness, full of memory. Cardamom, cedarwood, loam, rose, and decaying foliage scattered on the forest floor.
This one is surprising! I get lots of smooth cardamom and a hint of forest loam. It smells almost more gourmand than foresty to my nose.
Sleepy Hollow Day
Scent description: The kind of day where the sun never seems to rise, with grey skies and a chill that creeps into your bones. Petrichor, moss and vines, distant woodsmoke, wet wood, and a damp persistent drizzle.
I was really looking forward to trying this one, but alas it’s not my favorite. The woodsmoke dominates to my nose, and is a touch acrid--like smelling the remnants of a campfire that’s been rained on.
Time Stands Still
Scent description: They say when you meet the love of your life, time stops, and that's true. What they don't tell you is that when it starts again, it moves extra fast to catch up. Buttery popcorn and praline pecans, spun pink sugar, and infinite fields of daffodils.
Lots and lots of warm kettle corn, with hints of sugary sweetness. This is a nice carnival/fair type blend
Unmask!
Scent description: A polished roque mallet, aged wood and vanilla, hearth embers, pine, evergreen topiary animals, rich merlot, and sparkling champagne. Great Party, isn’t it?!
I wasn’t sure what to expect from this one, but it’s really nice! i get vanilla woods, smooth evergreen, and a pop of sparkling grape juice (like the Welch’s brand!). All of the notes blend together to create an unexpectedly elegant and uplifting blend.
Free Samples
Bonfire Stories
Scent description: Caramelized marshmallows, a crackling fire, sweet woodsmoke, and all the tales they weave.
I’m so glad that this one was included as a free sample! It was on my list of items to try, but I cut it after worrying that it would be too sweet. It is not too sweet! It’s a cozy and comforting campfire blend with a hint of s’more. The smoke and fire notes are perfect--they’re neither sharp nor acrid. This will be a wonderful blend to melt in the colder months.
Victorian Smoking Room
Scent description: Where the menfolk retreat into a cloud of smoke and congratulate themselves on being masters of the universe…dark wood panels, tall shelves of worldly literature, opulent leather armchairs, and velvet, velvet everywhere. Black pepper, patchouli, vetiver, sweet tobacco and pipe smoke with hints of cherry and vanilla, rich bourbon, and deep brown sugar.
Surprisingly I get lots of dark, sweet cherry here! It’s a really lovely cherry blend--like a cherry pie sitting on a mahogany table in a velvet-draped smoking room.
Willow Waxcraft’s wax melts may be perused and purchased at https://www.etsy.com/shop/WillowWaxCraft
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Day 2 / Talisman
Fandom: YuGiOh Arc V
Ship: Masumi/Mieru
Word Count: 1,548
Rating: G
Tags: Fluff, Canon Compliant, Humour
Masumi stared at all the elements of Mieru which made her so gaudy. She was so small and garish, and it drove Masumi insane to see this tiny little fortune teller trot about as though she were better than everyone else.
The boys, of course, would see an irony in Masumi’s frustrations but they would never voice it. No, they cared for their lives too much to do something like that to Masumi but her crystal-clear hypocrisy, clear to everyone but herself, was quite the sight.
She had those teeny tiny little shoes with those dumb frilly socks and more ribbons on that dress of hers than anyone needed. She just traipsed about with that crystal apple of hers in hand and not to mention that pretentious little gold-plated disc around her neck. And that attitude of hers as well! Life just seemed to come far too easy to little Houchun Mieru. Most people had to study for good grades but this brat of a girl had fate and destiny on her side and Masumi didn’t believe in anything that she couldn’t see so it was totally unfair that Mieru just had this nigh hedonistic view about herself and the world. Even when challenged, be it in a Duel or in learning that life was infallible and multiple dimensions and living monsters were all things, she took it all in stride because her horoscope said that Pisces was in the perfect place in the sky for her placements.
It was all nonsense!
To Masumi, at least.
The boys, when listened to Masumi go on and on about all her thousands of qualms, all hiding her affections for little Houchun Mieru, were willing to suspend a bit more belief. Hokuto loved his constellations, after all, and Yaiba had an animal intuition and as aforementioned, multiple dimensions and living monsters were all real things so why couldn’t Mieru’s psychic aptitude be real as well?
But, again, they valued their lives too much to mention something to Masumi was still one hundred percent convinced that she was straight and that she was in love with their teacher, Professor Marco.
Regardless, Masumi would love, no adore, nothing more than to knock Mieru down a couple of pegs and with eyes like hers, Masumi had just the idea on how to do it. After all, that annoying little brat, with her big cute green eyes and giggly voice and sweet-smelling pinkie ginger hair, just loved to parade around her occult for the aesthetic artefacts and Masumi was very interested in those items’ pedigrees.
So, she sought the girl out. Something which wasn’t too difficult given that the girl had latched onto the You Show kids and enjoyed hanging out there, whenever she could which actually wasn’t all that frequent given that Mieru, despite her loss to Yuya, remained the top of her own school’s leader boards. Something that Masumi could give her a teensy bit of praise for...
Outsiders weren’t actually allowed to sit in during classes which gave Masumi the perfect opportunity to snipe Mieru and finally take her down a few pegs like she so desired.
She observed, to begin with, as Mieru was content to keep to herself. As per usual, she was examining her crystal apple over and over again. Masumi was a jeweller but even she couldn’t find that much entertainment in examining the same faucets over and over again and yet Mieru did. All whilst humming blithely to herself and kicking her feet as the table and chairs were far too big for her. As Mieru did that, Masumi kept sneaking glances at her. At her tiny, pudgy hands and at her cattish, little smile. She was objectively adorable, and Masumi was not weak to admit that.
The long Masumi waited to make conversation with Mieru about the things she likes- er, observe her, the more awkward it became. Words jumbled at the back of Masumi’s throat. She attempted to rehearse how she wanted to oh so casually broach the subject, but it all went wrong. Even in her head. Every so often, Masumi would divert her gaze lest Mieru realise that she was staring, watching, observing. She’d drum her fingers on the desk and play with her hair, trying to keep a futile air of nonchalance. Tension was thick in the air and the fluorescent lights overhead were torturous and Masumi still had no idea what was happening in that “classroom”, but it couldn’t be as good as what would happen in an LDS clubroom after school hours.
All of this was how it felt to Masumi, at least. Mieru was oblivious, ignorant, happily content to be lost in how her precious crystal apple gleamed and glittered and glimmered.
Masumi found it somewhere between boredom inducing and completely infuriating.
That word jumble continued to clog up her throat and mouth and even her nose, but she found some courage, pushing her hair off her shoulders, Masumi asked: “Pardon me, Mieru, but I’m curious.”
“You are?” Mieru exclaimed, eyes bright, as she turned to Masumi. “About the future? My abilities? Well, I’ve got tarot cards; Duel Monsters cards; pendulums; dream interpretation; numerology; runes; horoscopes; oooh, do you want your birth chart done? Something else entirely?”
Masumi was stunned by the way Mieru reeled off all those forms of divination. Her head spun. She didn’t even know what half of Mieru had rattled off was. She blinked. And then coughed and found her reply.
“Something else.” Masumi, almost dumbly, said.
“Interesting. Well, what do you want? Feathers? Clouds? Precious Gems-?”
“No.” Masumi piped up; interrupting Mieru. “I just want to look at your... things. No offence, but I don’t really believe in that sort of thing. Only hard work.” She crossed her arms and bore a particularly snooty look on her face.
Mieru giggled smugly. “It is hard work. All the things I had to learn but as they say, you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make it drink. So, what did you want to take a look at?”
“Your crystal apple. I just want to know what kind of crystal it is.” Masumi said.
“I’ve never had my apple appraised before...” Mieru mumbled, looking over the object in question, turning it around and letting glint off it. “But that could be fun so sure. Just be careful. I don’t let just anyone touch my precious crystal apple.”
Masumi’s heart skipped a beat. Why did that sound so casually... intimate?
Mieru carefully handed over her precious crystal apple to Masumi. Their fingers skirted one another, touching wispily, and then Masumi secured her clutch on the crystal apple.
It was tenderly warm. Warmed by Mieru’s hands and her admiration for it. Thus, Masumi began to make her own inspections of the crystal apple. All whilst Mieru waited with such brilliant eyes, waiting for praise and validation, no doubt. Such pride sparkles upon her face and Masumi felt bad. Within seconds, she had her conclusion and it was not good.
The way it felt on her fingertips. The weight it held in her hands. Masumi was certain. She let out a pertinent sigh and returned the crystal apple to Mieru.
“Well?” she prompted Masumi, excited.
“Well, what? It’s worthless. It’s glass. Not even crystal or even zirconia.”
“What?!” Mieru exclaimed, heart breaking.
“I don’t know where you got it, but I sure hope you weren’t duped in the process.” Masumi shrugged.
Guilt twinged in her heartstrings as she averted her gaze from Mieru. She played with her hair to distract her from this peculiar pain in her chest. She felt really, really bad about hurting Mieru’s feelings as she did. It so was not the gratifying experience Masumi thought deflating such a brat’s ego would be.
Her glassy eyes were swelling with tears as her lower lip protruded, pouting, as she held back a sob. Her hands shook with betrayal or maybe even loathing of Masumi’s tactless appraisal.
“Mama and Papa bought it special for me.” she murmured.
And Masumi’s eyes lit up with an idea upon hearing that. “It is.” she said. “It still is. It may be glass but it’s still precious to you because it means a lot to you. That has a price and a quality that even the most well-trained eye could never value because it’s sentimental. So please, Mieru, don’t be upset.”
“I-I guess you’re right.” Mieru mumbled, pawing at her eyes uselessly as her tears had long since dribbled down the sides of her chubby cheeks.
“I’m glad to hear that.” Masumi said, smiling.
Mieru turned to her slightly, head tilted. “Ne, Masumi, if my crystal apple ever fails me or is broken, what should you, the ever so wise jeweller, suggest as a replacement?”
Masumi paused. She let those cattish eyes study her and she let that aura of Mieru’s wash her over. Soon, Masumi found the suggestion she would make. Right there in Mieru’s gorgeous eyes. Her gorgeous eyes which were not emeralds and were not jade nor tourmaline. She let out a self-important puff of laughter before replying.
“I haven’t studied such pseudoscience, I don’t know what it means but,” she ambled, “but peridot, perhaps.”
“The stone of transformation.” Mieru beamed to herself whilst Masumi blushed.
#writing tag#femslash february#yugioh arc v#arc v#arc v fanfic#yugioh#mieru hochun#masumi kotsu#lithomancyshipping#clover and violets#clover and violets 2020#this is nearly twice the size as i was expecting it to be#and also i made the executive decision to cut it and i left out another kind of idea i had for it#femslash#femslash february 2020
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At The Ballet [AU Edvron]
Desc: Devron has always found the ballet beautiful, and there is none as lovely as his significant other, Eden, the primo of the Royal Ballet. After all, how can Eden blame him for wanting to be more like them? Eden disagrees completely. As they share an afternoon, Devron cannot help but marvel at his relationship with Eden.
TW/CW: body stuff, slightly derogatory/abrasive language
Word Count: 2246
“No.” Eden’s voice was flat.
Devron gasped, pretending to swoon, as he lay back on the floor by Eden’s bed. “No what? I have done nothing wrong.”
Eden scoffed, raising an eyebrow. Their gray eyes flickered from the pointe shoes on the bed to Devron’s hand resting innocently on his stomach. “Liar.”
“What? I haven’t technically done anything wrong. Yet.”
“You were thinking it, that’s bad enough.”
Devron sat up lazily, leaning on the plush blankets as Eden sat on the bed next to his elbow, rubbing a white towel over their messy, dark curls. “I wasn’t going to wear them,” he promised.
“Good.” All the same, Eden took the shoes from the bed with one hand and carefully wrapped the straps around their bedpost.
“You’re no fun,” Devron harrumphed.
Eden slapped his hand with the towel. “Wipe that stupid grin off your face, golden boy,” they said gruffly, but they couldn’t conceal the small smirk at the corner of their mouth.
Devron only smiled wider, scooting on his knees to rest his head on Eden’s lap. “I can’t help smiling when I’m happy. That’s what people do when they’re happy, Eden. Just because you have a permanent scowl on your face doesn’t mean I have to.”
Eden snorted. “If you’re gonna start some sappy bullshit like ‘Oooh, Eden, I’m happy just being with you,’ I want to remind you that last week, you told me I was the most insufferable, most argumentative, most cantankerous person you had ever met.” The smirk was prominent on their face by now. “I have to say, I was impressed with your big word choice, but showing off your private tutor much?”
Devron flushed. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said quickly, lifting his head off Eden’s lap so quickly and with such force that he fell on his arm. He screamed before slapping his non hurting hand over his mouth. “I wasn’t gonna… I wasn’t trying to…” he stammered.
Eden laughed, wrapping the towel over their shoulders as Devron tried to come up with an excuse. Their shoulders shook, up and down and up and down. The room itself was small and bare save for Eden’s desk, bed, and drawer, and their laugh filled it easily. It was hot, and Devron had long since removed his binder and tossed it onto Eden’s bed. The sole small window was open ajar to let in some air.
Still red-cheeked, Devron couldn’t help but smile. There was something about Eden’s laugh, not quite high and not quite low, rich like autumn: crisp and cool and sharp, but underneath it all, there was cinnamon and chocolate and apple and the warm embrace of a muffler in the chill air.
Sunlight came in through that window, yellow and weak and pale. Earlier, while Eden was bathing, Devron squinted, grimacing into the light. Since then, the sun and Devron had both changed positions, and, although unsure of the sun’s opinion on the matter, Devron was quite happy with the repositioning. As he pouted, rubbing his wrist absentmindedly to ease the pain and watching the shining silver dust drift down in the sunlight, he marveled at the pointe shoes.
They were dusky pink, specially made for Eden. Devron sighed. How romantic! Specially made silk slippers, like in a fairy tale - and Devron did not doubt the shoes very well could have been made by fairies or elves or the like. The silk shimmered in the sunlight, iridescent rose and white and green and gold, as if enticing the lazy rays of sun to dance, trapping them and rejoicing all the while. Even the dust fell in awe in a circle around them, never touching the surface of the slippers, but deferentially making way for them.
Eden fell back onto their bed with a grunt, laughter still etched faintly on their face. “You’re so stupidly romantic.”
Devron snorted. “You like that, though,” he said.
In response, Eden rolled over onto their stomach, tucking their legs up onto the bed. “Sure. Whatever you wanna believe.” Still, a smile drifted onto their lips. They rested their chin on their arms, eyes half closed. The day was the kind of stifling hot that begged for an afternoon nap, and Eden never could stay awake long after a bath.
Rolling his eyes, Devron launched himself off the floor, climbing onto the bed to sit, cross-legged, next to Eden. Warily, they peered at him.
Devron raised his hands, palms opened. “I’m sitting on this side. Away from the slippers.”
Satisfied, Eden yawned and closed their eyes.
They sat quietly. Devron scooted back against the wall, resting his head. From the outside, there came the tinkling of bells on bicycles, a few children yelling something about a ball, and the buzzing of bees around the meager pot of tiny red flowers Eden kept on the ledge and had miraculously kept alive during the past three months. There was a quiet ticking, as well, from the clock that rested haphazardly at an angle on Eden’s desk, counting the seconds as they passed.
“How many seconds do you think we’ve been together?” Devron asked, eyeing the flower pot, just visible in his line of sight.
“What.” Eden mumbled. Their eyes were still closed, their shoulders relaxed.
It was good to see them dozing off. As of late, they had been coming home so late from rehearsals that Devron had taken to falling asleep at the desk with a small oil lamp lit so they wouldn’t trip in the dark. It wasn’t Eden’s fault, of course. The closer opening night got, the more frazzled Eden became. Even the manager begged them to give their body a rest, reminding them that sleep was equally if not more important than training every day, but Eden couldn’t bring themself to do it, instead going on long walks through the city at night, counting every lamp post and flowerpot and bench they passed.
Over 20,000 lamp posts, they once told Devron proudly. I’ve counted up to 15,641 of them. Devron couldn’t complain at first; after all, it was during one of these nightly walks that Eden met him, in the park, trying and failing desperately and miserably to imitate the elegant movements of the ballerinas. Ballerinas like Eden.
Lately, though, he wished the walks would stop. That Eden would come right before the sun disappeared completely beyond the big hill opposite this tiny room. That they would return before the sky turned purple and then blue and then black with only the warm orange pinpricks of the lampposts below lighting the night and that they would just eat and rest on Devron’s shoulder and fall asleep in his arms.
“I mean, you’ve had that plant for three months,” Devron mused. “But I watched you plant it, so it’s been more than three months times however many seconds.” He paused. “Although, does it count as seconds we’ve spent together if we weren’t actually together, like literally together, for all of them? Is it seconds since we started being, you know, friends, or partners, or just seconds since we met?”
At this, Eden groaned, pushing themself up slowly. Even sitting up in bed was graceful when Eden did it. They sat back, turning to face Devron. “Stop thinking so much, idiot. What time is it?” Their eyes flitted to the clock on the desk. 6:43 in the evening. The sun would not set until later in the night, but the light streaming in was paler than it was before, more white than gold, and had taken on a dull quality. The air in the room was cooler, like the stuffy heat had cleared out, sensing it had overstayed its welcome.
“Okay,” they continued, rubbing their hair and yawning. Devron stifled a laugh, biting his lip. He saw the stray calico who often hung around by the window, and whom Eden had unofficially dubbed ‘Orange,’ do that once. “Okay, so. We’ve been together for ten months, fourteen days, seventeen hours, and fifty-eight minutes. That’s since we’ve met. I don’t know the exact seconds, so let’s not count that. In total? Probably something more than two hundred sixty-two million.”
Devron stared, slack-jawed. “You counted?”
“Well, I multiplied, more or less, I don’t have time to count every second in a day, but – ”
“No, but you counted! You counted the exact number of days since when we met?”
Eden frowned. “What? Does Mr. Romantic find that strange?”
“Not at all,” Devron straightened up gleefully. “So do you usually count the days you’ve spent with someone or…?”
“Depends, are you usually this dense, or do you reserve that for me?” Eden scowled. The tips of their ears were red, nonetheless.
“Oh no, I’m definitely usually dense,” Devron confirmed. “I just reserve a special level of dense for you. Because you mean so much to me,” he said, laughing.
Eden swatted his shoulder. “I still can’t believe you were trying to break your toes and ankles in the middle of the park when we first met.”
“I wasn’t trying to!” Devron protested. He rubbed his elbow with concern, remembering the pain that refused to fade after he hit the ground, how Eden had chastised him after seeing his clumsy attempt at a sauté.
“No, of course not,” Eden rolled their eyes. “You were just trying to go en pointe with about uhhh, let’s see, no training, in your twenties.” They grabbed Devron’s shoulders suddenly. “How could you be so stupid?”
Devron blinked. “Eden. I’m – I’m not doing it right now. I’m never going to try again. Don’t worry.”
Eden relaxed, slumping back. “Sorry. I just. I don’t get it. Why would you do that?”
“Because ballet is beautiful,” Devron said sheepishly. “I saw you on that stage, and I wanted to be like you. Everyone is beautiful at the ballet.” He shrugged. “I promise I won’t try to do pointe ever again.”
It was Eden’s turn to stare. “How could you ever think to do pointe in the first place? That kind of thing is only done through hard work and proper training. From a seriously young age. Some students never go en pointe if they aren’t ready. It’s not just a rite of passage or an elitist thing, it is actually dangerous without the proper training and proper shoes fitted just for you. Besides, how could you think ballet was beautiful?”
“Wait, what was that last part?”
“Ballet is so frustrating. It’s beautiful and awful and hard, and it’s… it’s so ugly.” They frowned.
Devron rested their head on Eden’s shoulder, taking their hand in his. The towel wrapped around their neck was soft from wear and fading. He saw how Eden would curl up on their bed after a long rehearsal. The way the sweat beaded on their forehead long after they should have cooled down, holding their feet with shaking arms. The black and brown and yellow bruises on their feet, stripes of red and angry purple across their legs and ankles from tying the tight straps of their pointe shoes. The anger and the frustration and the pain that they kept caged behind a furrowed brow and clenched teeth.
“I know,” he said softly. Eden squeezed his hand, resting their head on Devron’s.
But then there were the times when they came home glowing, a grin blazing across their face that could not be suppressed no matter how they bluffed and tried to keep cool. The days when they nailed every single jump, twirl, and leap, barely registering it as they flew and fluttered and spun like sunlight itself refracted in the water of the fountain in the town square where Devron liked to sit and feed the stray cats and pigeons during the summer. There were rehearsals Devron watched where, even without costumes or proper lighting or audience in the plush velvet seats, Eden seemed to leave a trail of stardust as they leapt through the air, leaving the air shimmering behind them with magic. And then, on actual show days, fully suited in embroidered jewels and moonlight tights and their fairy silk slippers, they straddled the world of the fairies themselves, drifting in and out of fantasy and reality. Devron saw it in the awed eyes of the audience members, dolled up in their pearls and velvets and lorgnettes as they watched Eden, enraptured.
He couldn’t think of a way to tell them all this, so instead, he said simply, “I still think you’re beautiful when you do ballet.”
Another hand squeeze. “I think you need new eyes.”
“I think you’re wrong.”
Eden hummed. They turned, kissing Devron’s hair. “Promise me something?”
Devron sighed. “I’ll never be able to do pointe?”
Eden nodded, their lips still pressed just barely against Devron’s hair. “You started too old.”
“C’est la vie, I guess.” He had no hopes of ever doing pointe, not since that first day they met ten months ago. “What do you want me to promise you?”
“That you’ll never try to do something as stupid as try to do pointe again,” Eden said softly.
“Awww, you do care!” Devron grinned, pulling away from Eden’s shoulder to smile at them.
“Shut up,” Eden said, still holding Devron’s hand in their lap. The corners of their mouth tugged upward in a small grin, though they could not look Devron in the eye.
Chuckling, Devron rested his head on Eden once more. For all their leanness, their shoulder was surprisingly soft. “I promise.”
#writeblr#creative writing#creative fiction#ballet au#original story#original writing#original characters#my OC#ocs#ballet#au#alternate universe#romance#tw: body talk#tw: derogatory language#luxtruran trio#edvron#yes the title and one of the lines IS a reference to A Chorus Line
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OC Interview
I was tagged by @kenshi-vakarian7 and @rpgwarrior4824 for the OC interview meme. Thank you so much!
I’ve been putting off a ton of other OC memes that mostly @rpgwarrior4824 tagged me in and maybe some others? It’s been so long I can’t even remember, so sorry if I’ve missed anyone! Rather than flooding everyone’s dash with other OC memes, I’m going to do the interview, and add all of the other memes below the cut.
I’ll be doing all of them for Jane Shepard from one of the stories I’m currently writing.
Also, if anyone wants to do a huge OC master post like this with any or all of the memes involved, feel free to consider yourself tagged.
1. What’s your name?
Jane Shepard
2. Do you know why you are named that?
My parents were looking for something traditional. Something about remembering where we came from, having connections to Earth. I’m not really quite sure about their rationale behind that.
3. Are you single or taken?
Single? I’m not really sure how this is pertinent information.
4. Have any abilities or powers?
My tactical cloak has gotten me out of a few sticky situations. I guess that counts, right? Not everyone knows how to use those effectively.
5. Stop being a Mary Sue.
I’m afraid that goes against my job description.
6. What’s your eye color?
Green.
7. How about your hair color?
Brown.
8. Have any family members?
My mom, Hannah Shepard. She’s a Rear Admiral now, you know. She’s pretty distinguished in her own right.
9. Oh? How about any pets?
I have a hamster. His name is Pongo. I have some fish too... actually, I should probably double check that one.
10. That’s cool, I guess. Now tell me something you don’t like.
Intrusive and unnecessary interviews.
11. Do you have any activities/hobbies that you like to do?
I do like my model ships. There’s something about the process of putting them together that’s almost meditative.
12. Have you hurt anyone in any way before?
Hasn’t everyone?
13. Ever… killed anyone before?
I’m sorry, you do know who I am right? I will say, that I don’t take that for granted. I always try my best to avoid death, but sometimes it’s unavoidable.
14. What kind of animal are you?
A human? Honestly, I don’t even understand the point of most of these.
15. Name your worst habits?
Apparently, indulging reporters, for what? Some kind of romance magazine I’m guessing?
16. Do you look up to anyone at all?
Of course. My mom’s been a great example for me. She raised me by herself for most of her life, and she’s always tried to do her best by me. She’s a great role model. Then there’s Admiral Anderson, but, maybe let’s not talk about him.
17. Are you gay, straight or bisexual?
I really don’t see how this is any of your business.
18. Do you go to school?
Not anymore. I was raised going to the Alliance Academy, almost conditioned for military life. Then there was N7 training, but nothing as formal as that since.
19. Ever want to marry and have any kids one day?
I don’t know. Now that the war is over, maybe? I never managed to think that far ahead.
20. Do you have any fangirls/fanboys?
You could say that. I have a VI dedicated to sorting my mail.
21. What are you most afraid of?
Failure. Letting down my team.
22. What do you usually wear?
Usually whatever the Alliance has requisitioned for me.
23. What one food tempts you?
Oooh, anything freshly cooked an warm, and you’ll have me wrapped around your little finger. Let’s just say I’ve become way more accustomed to MRE’s than I care for.
24. Am I annoying you?
Not exactly, though I’m not sure why some of these are so personal.
25. Well, it’s still not over!
Great.
26. What class are you (low/middle/high)?
Middle.
27. How many friends do you have?
Living a life in space hasn’t allowed for much stability on that front, but my crew has become a second family. It’s not about how many, but about the bonds that aren’t breakable, and I’ve found that in my crew.
28. What are your thoughts on pie?
Like I said, anything fresh or home cooked, and you have my attention.
29. Favorite drink?
Water’s never failed me. I’m sorry, were you looking for something more interesting? I’ll say that I am probably too attached to my coffee supply too.
30. What’s your favorite place?
Places have never really been a stability for me either. I guess the Normandy’s become pretty special.
31. Are you interested in anyone?
Well... there was someone. I’m not really sure anymore.
32. That was a stupid question…
Yeah...
33. Would you rather swim in the lake or the ocean?
I can’t say that I’ve had much of a chance for either, but I remember that sticky gross feeling after swimming in an ocean, so I’ll have to say lake.
34. What’s your type?
I’m sorry?
35. Any fetishes?
Oh, we’re really not going there.
36. Camping indoors or outdoors?
Are you kidding me? You’re going to ask this after that last question? What exactly is this interview for? Outdoors, I guess. I wouldn’t say no to a nice cabin though.
Fairy Tale Aesthetics: Brothers Grimm Version
SNOW WHITE.
jade trinket boxes. taste of iron. fingertips on a mirror. yellow and green with envy. long handled hunting knives. sewing by the window. combs laced with pearls and poison. an apple white one side and red the other. white doves. frosted glass.
THE MAIDEN WITHOUT HANDS.
a blunt axe. a ring of chalk. tear-stained cheeks. sweet pears. hands tied behind back. shallow rivers. aching feet, walking for days. flowing gown. liquid silver. wax seals. blinding lights.
THE THREE LITTLE GNOMES IN THE FOREST.
lukewarm bath water. sapphire butterflies. tiny milk snakes. baskets of strawberries. fat toads. sparkling snow. fur cloaks. raw gemstones. kettles made of copper. red wine. a tiny cottage in the middle of nowhere.
BLUE BEARD.
a tiny key made of gold. pools of blood. stains that won’t rub away. galloping hooves. treasures from far away lands. dragging by the hair. dark and damp cellars. marble walls. shivering with fear. screaming at the top of your lungs.
THE SIX SWANS.
sitting side-saddle. daughter of a witch. nettles. white feathers. refusing to smile. needles and threads. a castle in the forest. sound of beating wings. birthmarks. climbing trees. balls of yarn. silver crowns.
LITTLE RED CAP.
wildflowers. rich-tasting cake. wicker baskets. the path rarely trod. sharp teeth. curtains drawn. a dying fireplace. grey pelts. red velvet. handmade quilts. sunlight peeking through branches. opening corks with a satisfying pop. looking someone directly in the eye.
OC Body Language Meme
DEFENSIVENESS
arms crossed / crossing legs / fist-like gestures / pointing index finger / karate chops / stiffening of shoulders / tense posture / curling of lip / baring of teeth / brow furrowing / shoulders hunched / sudden, sharp movements / growling
REFLECTIVE
hand-to-face gestures / head tilted / stroking chin / peering over glasses / taking glasses off — cleaning / putting earpiece of glasses in mouth / pipe smoker gestures / putting hand to bridge of nose / pursed lips / knitted brows / scrunched nose / staring to the side / fidgeting
SUSPICION
arms crossed / sideways glance / touching or rubbing nose / rubbing eyes / hands resting on weapon / brows raising / lips pressing into a thin line / strict, unwavering eye contact / wrinkling of nose / narrowed eyes / smooth, quick movements / sniffing the air loudly
INSECURITY & ANXIETY
chewing pen or pencil / rubbing thumb over opposite thumb / biting fingernails / biting lips / hands in pockets / elbow bent / closed gestures / clearing throat / “whew” sound / picking or pinching flesh / fidgeting in chair / hand covering mouth whilst speaking / poor eye contact / tugging at pants whilst seated / jingling money in pockets / tugging at ear / perspiring hands / playing with hair / swaying / playing with pointer/marker/cane / smacking lips / sighing / rocking on balls of feet / flexing or cracking fingers sporadically / hugging themselves / head whipping around frantically / hanging down avoiding eye contact / low growling / shoulders hunched over / sitting with knees pulled up to the chest
ANGER & FRUSTRATION
short breaths / “tsk” sounds / tightly-clenched hands / fist-like gestures / pointing index finger / running hand through hair / rubbing back of neck / snarling / revealing teeth / grimacing / sharp-eye glowers / notable tension in brow / shoulders back, head up – defensive posturing / clenching of jaw/ grinding teeth / nostrils flaring / heavy exhales / hitting walls and random objects / loud growling / pacing / yelling randomly
OC sense aesthetic
SIGHT. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
small towns. big cities. six thirty curfews. lights that take the place of stars. blanket nests. light through the blinds as a wake up call. found family. finding a single star in the middle of new york city. window shopping. watching something terrible and enjoying it. growing numb to the sight of injustice. wilted flowers. faded caricatures. bright, bold colours.
HEARING
crickets and lightning bugs. car engines and a / c units. a phone call to mum / dad. laughing with friends. jokes that are so bad you have to laugh. the clicking of computer keys. noise cancelling headphones. the sound of silence. muffled music from another room. drumming fingertips on a table. clicking of pens. listening to a clock and swearing the ticks get slower. ringing in the ears. the voice of someone you love. pitch shifted songs.
TOUCH
being held close during a long night. fleeting reassurances. holding hands when you’re scared. brushing fingers through strands of hair. freshly dried clothes. bruises on your knuckles. silk and satin. your favourite pet’s fur or feather. wringing your hands anxiously. snuggles. comforters in the dead of winter. nails against skin. cold metal. leather in summer.
TASTE
coffee in the morning. tea in the evening. bubblegum that lost its flavor. alcohol burning the back of your throat. homemade cooking, no matter what’s made. blood in your mouth. stale air. mint. fresh vegetables. that processed taste of citrus candy. the first meal you cook by yourself that tastes good. foreign sweets. fast food. bittersweet. sour. spicy. sweet. bitter. too much salt on fries.
Bold Relationship Tag
height difference | mutual pining | first kiss | first love | wedding | in-jokes | lgbt+ | family disapproves | friend disapproves | would die for each other | fake relationship | arranged wedding | cuddlers| pda friendly | and they were room mates | holding hands | secret relationship | opposing world views | opposing personalities | opposing goals | getting a pet | have kids | want kids | grow old together | relationship failures | rests head on shoulder | share a bed | token dummies | relationship doubts | they have a song | first date | share a jacket | sharing a blanket | mutual interests | study buddies | bathing together | crash into hello | accidental nudity | laundry | same hobbies | cooking for each other | big fancy gala | sibling rivalry | hair stroking | dancing | laying in the grass | watching stars together | watching the other sleep | shared values | friends to lovers | enemies to lovers | lovers to enemies | childhood friends | slow burn | love triangle | toxic relationship | sitting on each other’s laps | can’t be together | hugs | forehead touches | neck kisses | car/motorbike rides | compliments | nicknames | falling asleep together | late night talks | gifts |
If anyone actually made it this far, I’d be shocked. But seriously, if you want to do any kind of variance of an OC master post for your OCs, feel free to do it and tag me.
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Oooh the “hands off!” One for luke?
I have midterms and a wicked sinus headache so it’s a miracle this got written at all... but this is the last of the protective 5sos blurbs! You can find the list i used here but if you send in a request just know i might put it on the backburner for a while. anyways enjoy!
Y/N didn’t know why she was at this stupid frat party. Well, she did kind of know why. Mikey had threatened to fireman’s-carry her out of the library if she didn’t take a break, let loose for a little while, and oh, what a coincidence, his frat was having a party that night and they needed girls. He’d invited her before, but never so instantly. Anyway, at least he had helped her skip the line for the keg, and he’d danced with her for a little while. And that was all well and good, but she had been watching him play beer pong for the last half hour and if another idiot spilled his beer on her she was gonna get violent.
She had to get some air. Fighting her way up from the basement, she slipped out into the backyard and let herself drift away from the smokers to lean against the oak tree. It was far too cold for her to be wearing this crop top, but the vodka kept her warm enough as she leaned her back against the bark.
She was gonna give Mikey another half an hour of her time, and then she was going home and taking a shower and going to bed.
She heard the door to the house open, and the sound of expensive sneakers on the boards of the porch behind her. She didn’t bother moving. She didn’t have the energy to entertain a drunken business major tonight. The smell of their smoke (and someone’s green apple vape) drifted over to her, but she didn’t glance over until she heard someone coming across the grass towards her.
“Hey, uh, sweet- sweetheart, hi.” Y/N turned her head to take in the boy. His movements were loose. He wearing a self-consciously scruffy hoodie with the school logo on, face lit up by the cigarette in his hands. When he leaned against the tree next to her, she could smell whatever jungle juice he had been drinking on his warm breath, right in her face, ugh.
“Hi.” She said, short as possible.
It didn’t seem to deter him. “So I was just- I saw you over here, and I just thought you were too pretty to be out here alone, so now I’m - I’m Jace.” He said, sticking out a free hand to shake. Y/N didn’t want to, but she reached out and shook his hand, trying to ignore his sweaty hands. “So d’you want a smoke?”
“I’ll be alright, thanks, I was actually just about to head inside.” Y/N covered quickly, but Jace still hadn’t let her hand go and suddenly she was struggling in his grip.
“No, come on, you haven’t even given me your name.” He pouted, maintaining a polite facade even as she tried to shake her hand free.
“I don’t- look, it’s cold out here, I’m gonna go in.” Y/N is not sober enough for this. This drunk fratboy didn’t seem to have violence in his eyes, but she did not want to take that chance.
Jace lets go of her hand, just as she hoped. What she didn’t expect was for him to throw down his cigarette and sling an arm around her shoulder. Jesus. “Alright, I’ll go with you.” He said, cheerful in a dangerous, drunk way.
Y/N has let this go far enough. If she lets him stick around, he might not let her go at the end of the night. Fuck, she hates frathouses. “Get your arm off me or I’m gonna make you.” She warns. She hates how small she feels.
Jace smells like sweat and margarita-in-a-can. “I’ll get you a drink. You like tequila?”
Y/N elbows him, but the blow gets lost in his sweater. Fuck. “I’m not kidding. Jace, I’ll scream-”
“Hands off, Jace.”
Jace freezes, and Y/N takes her chance to squeeze herself out of his grip. As soon as she’s out of his reach, she looks up at her apparent savior.
He might have been on the porch smoking when she had come out, Y/N couldn’t remember. If she wasn’t so scared, she’d say he was a tall fucking drink of water. This boy has great curly blond hair and a face she could only describe as chiseled, but more importantly, Jace is looking at him like he could break his jaw with his pinky.
It was quiet enough in the backyard that Y/N could hear the cars at the intersection down the street. Like birds, all of the smokers has fallen silent. Y/N is glad she’s not caught in the stranger’s stare - Jace looks frozen in this man’s blue eyes.
Finally the stranger jerked his head at the door. “Next time you treat a girl like that I’ll break your wrist, you hear me? Get out of here.” He said. Y/N thought she’d take her chances, too. She tried to duck around the man to head out front, but he’s watching her, not Jace’s retreat, and he follows. If he tries anything, she swears she’ll-
“Hey, wait, are you alright?” He didn’t grab her. The courtesy calmed Y/N down enough for her to stop and turn to face him. The porch light was really flattering on him (even shaken, she could see that).
“Yeah, I’m fine. I mean, thanks for scaring him off.” Y/N said, shrugging. She still felt shakey, but she couldn’t smell anything but cologne off this guy, and he hadn’t tried to stop her.
“He shouldn’t have touched you like that. I’m just sorry I didn’t stop him sooner. I should have- anyway. I’m Luke.” Up close, he’s not as dangerous as he seemed to Jace. His shoulders curled in a little, like he was trying not to be so tall. He doesn’t try to shake her hand, either - Y/N appreciates that.
“Y/N.” She said. She felt more like herself already.
Luke nodded. It was a pretty nod. Was his hair incredible, or was she just tipsy? “You’re Mikey’s friend, right? Where is he?”
Y/N shrugged and tried not to feel hot under his gaze. “Downstairs? I ditched him. I had to get some air.”
“Hmm.” Her savior pursed his lips. Y/N hoped she hadn’t just gotten Michael in trouble. “Are you going back in? I can stay with you, for a while, if you want.”
Any other night of the year, Y/N would have said yes, danced up on him, tried to take him home. Tonight, she thinks she’s had quite enough excitement. “You know what? I might just head home. I appreciate the offer and all, but it’s just-”
“No, no, I understand.” Luke said. He looked a little let down, and against her will, Y/N thought good. He was beautiful. She kind of wanted him to keep looking at her like that. “Well, I could - I could walk you home?”
It was easy for Y/N to put on a brave face so close to him, in the light off the porch, but she knew if she headed home alone she’d be seeing creeps around every corner. “I don’t want to take you away from the party - “ She started.
“No, no, I- if it’s alright with you, I’d like to make sure you get home okay.” Luke says, taking a little step in. Not close enough to be threatening, but closer. It’s nice. And he’s handsome, and he seemed really nice - Y/N would stupid to give this up.
“That would be really nice of you,” She said, and found herself meaning it.
Luke’s face lit up. “Okay, great, I’ll just text Mikey that I’m takin’ you home and we can head out.” He said, tugging his phone out of his jean pocket. Before long, he’s leading her through the laneway out on to the sidewalk, elbows brushing as she starts towards home.
“Here,” She heard, and before she could turn to look at him he was arranging her jacket around her shoulders. She tried to protest, but he just smiled at her and told her he ‘always ran hot’. And for the first time since she’d been dragged over the threshold of that house, she felt good. Almost cared for.
If she didn’t watch out, she’d be in love before daybreak.
#is it obvious how much i hate frat boys#requested#luke hemmings blurb#luke hemmings imagine#lh blurb#lh imagine#protective!luke#protective!5sos#5sos blurb#5sos imagine#Anonymous
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Text
One-shot : Don’t Look Back
Pairing : Loki x Plus-Size Reader
Warnings : Language ; spelling/grammar mistakes ; mention of torture ; mention of death
Word Count : 3.195
Author’s Note : One-shot based on the song ‘Don’t look back’ by Miguel. The ending is different than the movie.
If I (if I), don’t make it back before the sun (the sun)
All you have to do is run (run)
Just promise me you'll run (run)
And don’t look back
Don’t look back
Don’t look back
Don’t look back
And promise me you run
A lot of people have a different version about what happened during the battle of New York. Some would say that it was the time of the Apocalypse, others affirmed that it was only one person’s fault : The Prince of Asgard, Loki Laufeyson. Even with those diverse opinions, one thing was certain - it was the beginning of a different kind of war. A war where beings that where only a myth and speculation on earth, became true. A war with aliens from outer space. What they didn’t know at that time, is that it was indeed the fault of a single person and that person being Thanos.
When the battle occurred, you were hiding. Not from the police, not from the military, not from the government and not even from those warriors known as the Avengers. No, you were hiding from HIM. Your story dates back from centuries ago. You were the only left of an ancient population - all extinct. Captured by horrible creatures, dragged to a unknown and dark world. How did you managed to stay alive. Their leader, in possession of a great power, broke you in order to remake you - stronger, heartless, faster and immortal. « You will be my greatest creation. The greatest warrior of all time. A weapon », his grave voice used to say. A voice you can keep out of your head, not even when you lay down and try to rest.
[Verse 1:]
I feel the night approaching
The moon calling me
Reluctant eyes have witnessed
The horrors I can be
I felt compelled to warn you
I'm not all that I seem
And though I care about you
The night is calling me
After centuries of pure torture, the pain inflicted to you didn’t worked anymore. You were emotionless in all sense of the term. You were just a weapon, a instrument to frighten your victims to death, which was always the way they would end - dead. Always discreet, you witnessed the tiny fractures around you and kept them trapped at the smallest corners of your mind. No words exchanged but looks that showed the hatred of a girl for another. The words of encouragement and words of disappointment directed to them. « You failed my child. No words are big enough to describe how disappointed I am. My favorite. My Gamora. »
Another day like any other - you tied to a chair specially made to contain your supernatural strength, cuts ornamenting your skin and blood dripping along your features. That philosophical voice that carried the name of Ebony Maw, constantly dictating that your were their property, their pet, saved by the great God himself. « You should kneel before your savior, who gave you a purpose, who made you strong, you insignificant Earthling », he said once before he was interrupting by one of his brothers. Corvus Glaive entered the room dragging a corpse behind him. « This fell from the sky. Father gave the order to bring him back to life. » The hideous creature in front of you started gesticulating and chanting something incoherent before piercing the corpse chest where his heart used to beat. The corpse in front of you came back to life, arching his back, head falling back and harsh breathing leaving his mouth. The thick silence floating around the room before the stranger’s voice was heard. « Where am I? What is this place? » « Welcome to hell my friend », responded Ebony. He was caught off guard when the man in front of him started to laugh. « I beg your pardon? Hell. Do you have any idea who you’re talking to? » « Yes, you’re no one. » « I’m Loki Laufeyson, Prince of Asgard, the rightful King of Jotunheim, the God of Mischief. You should kneel before me », he shouted. It was the turn of everyone, except you, to laugh at his antics. He looked at everyone before his piercing gaze landed on your limp body. « You are correct. Someone will kneel and that will be you », Ebony exclaimed. The stranger kept looking at you before he was taking out by force. ‘You’re already dead’, you thought.
Years passed and the cooky personality of the new weapon vanished. A broken soul was left, like they promised. You couldn’t stop thinking about that look, those piercing green eyes burning through you. He would try making contact with you but you would not risk more punishment for his pretty eyes. You remained cold in front of him, but every time you heard him screaming you felt pain crush through you. It was more painful than the torture they would do to you. The Titan gave the newbie and yourself a mission. Search for some artifact called tesseract and bring it to him. If you succeeded he promised us both of you freedom, which you didn’t believed a word. If you would fail, death would arrive upon both of you. You were waiting for the signal on the other side of the portal. A blue glow appeared and you saw Loki waiting for you. You went through it and fixed your surroundings. Men with guns, scientists analyzing a blue cube and a man standing next to him, his eyes bluer than the ocean. « My bodyguard at my command. A spy with arrows. Isn’t it wonderful. » « If you’re some God why do you need a bodyguard », you replied. It was the first time you ever addressed him a word. Clearly surprised, he cleared his throat before smirking and exclaiming « So she speaks. It’s a shame to hide such a beautiful voice behind a cold silence, pet. » In a blink of an eye, you had a knife pressing against his Adam’s apple « Call me pet again and you’ll be death before you can even blink. » He groaned « Hmmm, feisty. I like that. I know you like me too.» You pressed the knife even deeper and a thin red line formed on his pale skin. He groaned again before crushing his hand on your forehead. The next thing you saw were flashbacks from your life - the torture, the blood, the screams and your beating heart and hate towards them each time you heard him scream. When Loki released you, you fell to the ground, both a panting mess. « What did you do to me? », you shouted through greeted teeth. « I opened your eyes. You don’t have to be alone anymore. The way you feel about me, I feel about you. » « You don’t know me. You have no idea what kind of a monster I am. » « I just saw your soul, your memories. You’re not a monster. You’re my salvation. Please give us a chance and once we finish this, we can finally be free. »
[Verse 2:]
If I should claim a victim
To devour before the light
I pray that you forgive me
It’s just my appetite
He managed to convince you. All those years fighting to not show any emotion were gone in a couple of minutes. That’s how much effect Loki had over you. Germany, the country the first mission took place. Two hours before the beginning. The God of Mischief dropped a green and gold gown, with some yellow touches beside you. You eyed the fabric curiously. « I made it for you. Put it on. » You gave him a specific look and he mumbled « Please », to which you smirked. You did as he said and came back with the dress on - hugging your curves perfectly, matching his suit. He looked at you from head to toe and swallowed harshly. « You look absolutely magnificent. » He approached slowly, his face inches from yours, his eyes pleading for a kiss. Your gaze piercing daggers through his whole being, making him shiver with lust. « What are you waiting for? », you whispered. The moment your words left your lips, his came crashing down on you in a passionate, a hungry kiss. Closing the gap between your bodies, your fingers trailed up his dark black hair and tugged it, making him groan and pushed his tongue in your mouth, tasting yours. He disengaged from you and pressed his head against yours. « Don’t get caught. Once I give you the signal, run as far as you can, hide and don’t look back. » « No. I’m staying with you, no matter what. » He groaned and the bodyguard, you found out the name was Barton, rushed to the room. « We’re ready. » « I’m coming », Loki said before turning back to you. He gave you a gentle kiss this time « Promise me you’ll run, if something happens. » You didn’t answered verbally but just gave him another passionate kiss.
[Bridge:]
And if I (And if I)
I should try (I should try)
Try to lure you baby (try to lure you back)
Oooooh, ooooh you just try to get as far away as you can (Oooh Aaah)
The plan went smoothly until a man in a weird blue striped costume showed up with a shield. He started to fight him and from the sky another one appeared. You were about to step in when you heard Loki shout « Run…run…and don’t look back. » The other men scanned the crowd to see who those words were directed for when they saw your angry face and your shaking hands. « Ruuuunnn », Loki yelled more firmly. You broke out of your trance and started to run, the man with the shield running behind you. But with the powers that you had you outrun him and disappeared. He came back to them and Stark asked « Where is she? » The other one shook his head, panting. « You lost her? Really? You, Captain America? », to which Rogers gave him a stern look. Loki was smirking proudly. « Come on Reindeer Games you’ve been a bad boy. You coming with us. »
The following day, chaos reigned around the streets of New York. Thanos's army invaded and destroying everything on his way. You stayed in the shadows, spectator of this destruction. Your only thought directing to your Loki. You climbed on the edifice in front of the Stark tower, evaluating the situation, when you saw the same flying man go through the portal. Seconds before it closed, he was free falling before a giant green beast caught him. The next thing your eyes caught sight off was Loki encircled by people, one of them being his so-called brother. You jumped off the building and landed perfectly behind them. They turned around, weapons in hand ready to engage. « Who are you? », the one with the shield demanded. You stood up and faced them. « It’s her », exclaimed Lokie’s former bodyguard. « Touch him and you all die », you pronounced through greeted teeth, a predatory voice emanating from your throat. « No harm will be inflicted to my brother, you have my word. He was to come back to Asgard and face the consequences of his actions. » « And you lady, will face the consequences of Shield », said the flying man. You groaned and took a step forward, making them take one back. « He will come with me », you replied threateningly.
« Y/N », his voice above a whisper. You looked at him in the eyes and your voice and posture softened. « I told you to run and not look back », he said annoyed. « The plan was never to leave you behind. » « And what was the plan? », cut Stark. You were so focused on Loki that you didn’t noticed the threat coming out of a blue glow behind you. The next thing you saw was Loki widening his eyes, panic all over his face. « Nooooooo », he yelled and the next thing you felt was a piercing edge coming out of your left side and an arm wrap around your throat. The people in front of you tried to take you back but it was to late, you only had the chance to whisper « Loki » and you were gone. « Nooooooo », the God of Mischief ran to the spot you just vanished and fell down on his knees. Everyone was silent, shocked because of what they just saw and disturbed seeing the God break down like that. « You promised me….you promised you’ll run », Loki kept yelling and started sobbing. « Brother », Thor patted his shoulder gently. « Don’t touch me !! », he shouted and started to punch him. Thor grabbed his arms and whispered « Shh, we will get her back. I promise, we will get her back. » Loki didn’t have more forces to fight his brother and fell down on the floor, Thor joining him and embracing him. « We will bring her back, I give you my word brother. » Loki looked at Thor and said « She’s gone », with a cold and blank face.
And don’t look back
Don’t look back
Don’t look back
Don’t look back
Don’t look back
Don't look back
And promise me you'll run
« Get ready we’re about to attack that ship », said Proxima Midnight bitterly. You nodded, focused on the task. The moment you entered, you started ending everyone that came your way. You would have felt for them in another lifetime, but you were just a weapon and weapons’s are heartless. Checking your surroundings, a voice made you stop dead in your tracks. You headed to the sound and saw him standing there besides the Titan.
Thanos: The Tesseract? Or your brother's head? I assume you have a preference?
Loki: Oh, I do. Kill away!
His brother began to scream. You came out of the shadows and stepped next to Thanos.
Loki: ALRIGHT, STOP!, he yelled the moment he saw you.
Thor: We don't have the Tesseract, it was destroyed on Asgard!
Frozen, he had to clear his throat before replying, « I assure you, brother, the sun will shine on us again. » He then looked back at you and you just screamed in your mind, knowing he would be able to read your thoughts. « Your optimism is misplaced, Asgardian », commented Thanos. « Well, for one thing, I'm not Asgardian. And for another... we have a Hulk. » The next thing you see is the green beast launching over Thanos and Loki grabbing you.
« Y/N you’re alive », he said and cupped your face in his hands. « I thought I lost you forever. » « You will never lose me Loki. » You only had time to share a kiss before Thanos came back after defeating Hulk and killing Heimdall. You saw Thor cry and when he turned his head towards you, his eyes widened. Loki stepped forward and proposed his services as guide on Earth, while you were begging him to get out of the ship through your thoughts. ThanoS wrapped his hand around Lokie’s neck and started to tighten his grip. « Nooooo, stooooop », you yelled and wanted to prevent it but got caught by Proxima. « Thor…save her », you heard him whisper before saying « You…will…never…be a god. » His red eyes looked at you and he mumbled ‘I love you’ and ‘Crack’. « No resurrection this time. » « Nooooooooo noooooo kill me too», you kept yelling. The Titan grabbed your neck and said « I still need you. Killing you would only give you satisfaction. And you were born for misery. » They dragged you out of the ship and you couldn’t keep your eyes from the love of your life lying there lifeless and the screams of his brother on top of him. The ship exploded.
On Earth the fight had began. Your mission was to infiltrate the building and get the Soul Stone. But you had your own plan to fulfill. You hid in the jungle waiting for his arrival when you saw Black Dwarf heading towards Captain America. You fell from the tree you were hiding and ended up on top of the giant’s shoulder’s. You dig your nails into his skull and ripped him apart. The Captain and the one with the stone stood there mouth agape, shocked at what you just did. « Y/N? », he whispered. « Be ready, he’s coming », you said coldly. Others joined them and were about to attack you before the Captain retained them. « No, she’s with us. »
You felt the atmosphere change and Thanos appeared. He saw his child laying lifeless, ripped in half on the ground and looked at you. « I saved you and that’s how you thank me? » « You broke me, teared me apart and you call that saving? » « I made you the strongest of them all. » « You made me as a fucking weapon. That’s all I ever was », you shouted. « Move out of my way or I’ll end you this time for good. » « There’s nothing left for you to end. I’m already gone. » You ran towards him, dodging his attacks. He was using the power of the stones but they didn’t affect you, that’s how powerful you were. He managed to grab you neck and you cut his arm with the Gauntlet, making him scream in agony. « It’s over », you smiled mischievously. He then took a hidden knife and pierced right in your heart. Again you felt no pain. He looked at you shocked. « You can’t kill me. The only way for me to perish is by my own hand », you revealed. You grabbed firmly the sword with whom you cut his arm off and exclaimed « Go to hell », before cutting his head off. His grip on your neck immediately loosened and you fell to the ground. Thor arrived and dropped to his knees in front of you. « Y/N, you’re alive. … You saved us all. » You gave him a small smile and put your hand on the knife that was still on your chest. « Loki would have been proud of you Thor. I’ll tell him you fought well. » « What? » You began pushing the knife deeper in your heart. « Nooo don’t. What are you doing? » « I’m joining the love of my life. It’s the end for me. I accomplished my destiny. Goodbye Thor Odinson. » And with that your pushed the rest of it further, feeling peace for the first time in your life. The world survived and you were the only one disintegrating.
[Outro:]
Don't you run, don't you run
What's your name? Who's your daddy
Is a rich like me (Like me, like me)
Has it taken, the time to show ya
All the things you need to live
Tell it to me slowly
I really want to know
Is the time of the season for lovin', lovin’
Your eyes opened up slowly, heat radiating your skin. You felt a light touch on your hand. There he was, his dark raven hair, his glowing pale skin and his green eyes. « Loki », you whispered. « You finally joined me my love. » You sat down next to him and touched his cheek « Where are we? » « This is Valhalla. This is home, my Queen. » You looked at the magnificent sunset in front of you before turning back to him. « I love you, Loki Odinson. My King. » « I love you Y/N, my Queen», you both said and shared a passionate kiss. « Home », you mumbled.
#marvel#mcu#loki laufeyson#loki of asgard#god of mischief#avengers#infinity war#loki x plus size reader#plus size reader#fanfic#fanfiction#thanos#one-shot#loki fanfic#loki (marvel)#reader#plus size#angst#dontlookback#thor odinson#iron man#clint barton#captain america#tony stark#hawkeye#steve rogers
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