#the cw was always my old reliable

[thegirlwholied]

of course I would get invested in one more The CW show before the network became a shadow of its former self...

...a show I started watching in season 1... lost track of... have never fully caught up on...but here I am watching new episodes live & catching up on the network's app...

...which is incredibly reflective of my relationship with The WB/The CW shows over the years actually...

Nancy Drew season 4. A fitting swan song so far for the The CW itself, as it was:

Play me that cursed-lovers, slow-burn, long-live-the-friend-group, musical-chairs-of-who's-dating-who, hot-parents-with-backstory, small-town-with-personality, filmed-in-Vancouver, everybody's-beautiful all-of-the-angst-but-also-snarky-one-liners, tune once more, with feeling.

Nobody does it quite like you anymore

#nancy drew #nancy drew cw #nancy x ace #the cw #past my prickliness over the cw handing me a cactus with nancy drew's name on it that was not the book series adaptation I've longed for #(...mostly / as much as I'm ever over anything/ you're forgiven not forgotten!) #it's hitting that nostalgia note and delivering on tropes i like perfectly #the cw was always my old reliable #when there was nothing else i wanted to watch #i could throw on a random episode of Vampire Diaries or The Originals #watch with no context to what was going on that season #and enjoy it #it was my network of buffy and charmed and supernatural all of which had a massive influence on my taste and what i want to write #(and not to leave out angel: let's just assume it included there with 'buffy') #i absolutely love roswell (og) & felicity though i only watched them years after they aired on dvd #gilmore girls. hart of dixie. #I never really watched jane the virgin or crazy ex-girlfriend but those shows were there as 'something I'll prob like when i have time' #everwood! how could i forget everwood with treat williams' recent passing! #for a while i watched every single superhero show they were airing #(smallville and birds of prey even way before the arrowverse) #each year I've always kept an eye on The CW pilots #(whatever happened to that Little Women in the zombie apocalypse starring BBC Robin Hood's Maid Marian?? i still want that unaired pilot) #it could be goofy it could be low-budget it could become a shadow of itself or go in directions i did not want to follow (a la The 100) but #man it's always been my jam #i suppose there'll be the Canadian shows they'll be reairing but #i don't think we'll quite see the like of this again #I'm enjoying it while i can!!

[writingouthere]

neighbor!Sukuna x singlemom!reader. In the aftermath of your apartment flooding, Sukuna makes you a deal that is too good to pass up. You don't fully know what you're agreeing to, but if you did would it have really changed anything? Reader POV

cw: Sukuna may seem like just a nice guy stepping up but really he's a red flag you're just too tired to see. It's hinted reader has not been treated well in the past but no specifics.

You hadn't known what to do when you woke up to the sound of rushing water. You had acted on instinct and grabbed your daughter from the room next to yours and stood in the kitchen, calling your landlord from the number on your lease to no avail. Your daughter was starting to get fussy and after the fourth attempt with no answer, you felt lost.

Your ex hadn't exactly been the reliable type and he probably would have just contributed by cursing and complaining about shitty landlords and even shittier affordable housing but that wouldn't have helped then and thinking about it wasn't helping you now. Single, alone with your daughter who was growing more disgruntled by the minute.

You hated to even consider but, there was someone who you kept coming back to that you thought could help.

Sukuna.

The tattooed man across the hallway hadn't struck you as the friendly type, but he had proved you wrong in the few months since you moved in. He looked like the type of guy you would cross the street to avoid, but he always had time to stop and talk to you when he saw you. He also always made it a point to say hello to your daughter and listen to her rambles, even when they didn't make sense to you.

Your other neighbors had warned you about him. Stories that included threats and assaults you just couldn't connect to the man who had taken you and your daughter to the aquarium when your piece of shit ex bailed on you both, again.

You had googled him afterwards and what you saw was pages and pages that included things like attempted, suspected and scarier words like murder, hospitalized and other things that just didn't fit with the man you were still getting to know.

The water was still falling and once your daughter started waking up, you called it and went over to the maybe scary man across the hall, who never scared you.

Within ten minutes, you found yourself in Sukuna's guest room while he stayed behind at your apartment to figure everything out. When was the last time someone told you, "I got it." You were always the responsible one. You were the mom friend, the girlfriend people liked to introduce to their parents. You had basically parented yourself!

But now, there was someone who told you that, "I got it."

So who could blame you for going along with what came next. When the next morning came and Sukuna told you that your super had come too late and the apartment was damage and you couldn't stop yourself from putting your head in your hands as your daughter happily munched on the pancakes he had made you both.

"What am I going to do," you groaned and you couldn't help but lean in when Sukuna placed his hand on your cheek.

"He said he would put you up in a hotel until it can be fixed," he said gently and you sighed. You envisioned the next several months in some shitty motel with no kitchen, sharing a lumpy bed with your two year-old, disrupting the routines you had been trying so hard to build as a single mom. No more afternoon trips to the park that was less than a block away. No more feeding the ducks with your leftover veggies or sharing pick up duties with the other moms at the daycare by your work.

"This sucks, I don't want to have to build my life all over again." And you really didn't. This was so frustrating and over what, a little water damage?

"Well," Sukuna started and he tilted your head so you were looking at him. "I do have the guest room. You could move some of your stuff over here and camp out until it's fixed. Pocket the hotel money, use it for something for the kid."

"Oh, I couldn't impose on you like that-"

"I wouldn't offer if it was an imposition," he said, his eyes glinting and for just a second you could see a little of the danger your neighbors had told you about, but then it was gone and he was leaning over you to take another pancake from the serving tray and putting it on your daughter's empty plate.

"It's not just for you, I would-I would feel a lot better knowing the both of you were taken care of. I doubt the hotel that-" he cut off looking over at your daughter, "you know is putting you up in is going to be the safest place for the two of you."

You couldn't believe you were considering it but you were so tired. You felt like life had just become a series of less than ideal circumstances you were forced to deal with just because you didn't want to settle for the wrong guy or give your daughter less than she deserved.

"I would pay rent," you said and he looked ready to argue but you held up your hand. He smiled, amused and gestured go on. "Just until they can fix the apartment and if we get to be too much tell me. We can tough it out in a hotel. We've dealt with worse," you added and he frowned before nodding.

"Deal." He turned to look at your daughter and smiled. "You hear that bug, you and mommy are moving in." Your daughter giggled and clapped her syrup covered hands.

"Temporarily," you reminded him and he smiled at you.

"Right, let's go grab the stuff you'll need while you're here temporarily." He went grabbed a towel and wiped your daughters hands while she kept laughing and chanting "move in, move in!"

Is it your fault that you didn't know that your circumstances were anything but temporary?

#jujutsu kaisen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk sukuna #sukuna x singlemomreader #sukuna x y/n

[dotster001]

Requests are open!! May I request a Lilia x reader that is lovers to enemies?? (You can choose why or if the ending is angst or fluff.) stay safe!!

A Lesson in Humanity

Summary: Lilia x gn!reader

CW: death, war (not on screen), injury, (how do I say this next one without spoiling the whole thing? Um...) There are drugs involved, angst, alternate universe

M/F=whichever parental term you'd have Silver refer to you by.

A/N: this ask....when I started it I thought it would be short and easy.... 😂

Your kingdom was on the outskirts of the Valley of Thorns. Despite the fact that in the last century, nobody had even heard from the queen, let alone glimpsed her army, tensions were always high, both for the fae who lived within the human kingdom, and the humans who lived in the fae one. 

But a new era was dawning. And you'd worked hard to get here. You'd quickly risen through the ranks, and become your Queen's favorite diplomat. When you shared your dream of peaceful relations, she had fallen into the dream right alongside you.

So here you were. At the palace in the Valley of Thorns. Awaiting an audience with the Queen of the dark fae. You were surprised to see an older woman, similar to what the Queen was described as, but aged like a fine wine, and with an aura of power that nearly sent you to your knees.

As she walked in, behind her walked a boy, no less formidable, his emerald eyes icy and piercing.

And behind him, with a light hearted skip in his step, a man. His dark hair in a loose braid that exposed the magenta streaks in his hair. His eyes were just as incisive as the boys, but his face was less lined, less tense. He seemed to be enjoying things.

“Y/N L/N. Welcome to our kingdom. We are most excited to see what changes you can bring to our court,” the queen (?) said.

You bowed deeply, taking the opportunity to collect your thoughts in the midst of these very intimidating people. 

“I am honored to be given this opportunity. I hope I don't let you down,” You said as you rose from your bow.

“See that you don't.”

The first visit was spent with you doing most of the talking, discussing where your kingdom was at in the modern era, discussing ways you hoped to improve relations, offering up various items you'd been given permission to trade in order to set up a trade route between your nations. You were exhausted. The two pairs of emerald eyes seemed to be searching your soul, while the magenta pair seemed thoroughly amused.

At length, you were dismissed for the evening, and the man with magenta eyes escorted you to your room.

“Chin up. You did well,” he said lightly as you walked.

It was the first time you'd heard him speak, and you were startled by the deep tone.

“Oh. Uh, thank you,” you choked out.

“Fu fu, you can relax around me. I'm trying to achieve the same things you are.”

He stopped walking, and held out a hand to you.

“Lilia Vanrouge,” he said.

You knew that name. Why did you know that name?

“Y/N L/N,” you shook his hand in return.

“Word of advice, don't give the fae your name,” he grinned maliciously.

You held back an eye roll. “Aren't we trying to do away with the old stereotypes?”

His grin deepened, and his eyes darkened. “That's not a stereotype, darling human.”

You didn't believe him, you really didn't. But he was definitely holding onto the bit for a slightly uncomfortable amount of time. Maybe fae humor was just different.

“Anyway, I'm sure you'll learn all about that during your stay here. Just as I'll learn about your human customs when I live with you.”

“Are you the fae diplomat, then?” You asked.

“Of course I am! Don't I seem so reliable?” 

He began walking again, and you hastened your gait to catch up. For someone with such short legs, he was fast.

“In the spirit of honesty, Y/N, the reason you recognize my name is because you have heard of me.” He stopped abruptly, turned to you, and gave a mock salute. “General Lilia Vanrouge of her majesty's armies.”

You knew fae lived for a long time. But this man was a murderer. He'd killed many humans in his time. He was the Boogeyman that parents told their children about. And now he was fighting for peace? 

You almost couldn't believe this was the person whose name was only spoken in whispers.

“You're confused. But that's fine. You're young. When you live a couple hundred years, you gain a perspective on things. Rest assured, I am the largest proponent of peace in this kingdom. I am your ally. And I will do what I need to do to make things right,” he said firmly. And you believed him. Seven help you, but you really believed him. So you nodded, and he smiled brightly. He pointed to the door down the hall.

“That's where you'll be staying. If you need me, just say my name, and I'll be there.”

And in a cascade of pink sparks, he was gone.

….

You'd both fallen hard. Perhaps it was your shared passion for a similar goal. Perhaps it was the allure of being from different species. Perhaps it was the day you'd seen him training shirtless, and couldn't look away.

But your relationship was a fire that only fueled the desire to bring the relations between your kingdoms closer. You complimented each other. Brought out the strengths in each other. And the last three years had breezed by, both of your dreams coming closer and closer to fruition.

Lilia broke the kiss you'd been trapped in for the last five minutes, and breathed against your lips.

“You should come live with me.”

“You say that everytime we're alone together,” you giggled, chasing his lips, him playfully dodging.

“And I mean it every time. Come live with me.”

“I don't think that my queen would be pleased to lose her favorite diplomat.”

“Sometimes I think she's in love with you, too, and she's using your position to keep you from me.”

“Very funny,” you snickered, “she'd rather the three of us be a package deal.”

“Fair,” he whispered, kissing you again, seeming to distract himself with you by accident, before pulling away again.

“But I'm really serious this time,” he said sternly, reaching into his pocket, and pulling out a black ring.

“Lilia,” you breathed out.

“I've been thinking about how we aren't getting any younger.” 

You held back a snort at that. He looked exactly the same as the day you met him. But you remembered like it was yesterday the day he'd noticed a single silver strand in your hair. Just one. That's all it had taken for him to lock himself in his head for an hour as he held you tightly. You hadn't had any since, and you'd been pretty certain it was probably from stress, but Lilia had been a little shaky ever since then.

“We love each other. We shouldn't let that slip away,” he whispered.

You found yourself nodding, giving into his love filled eyes, but as you felt the cold ring slip onto your finger, you spoke up.

“One condition. We'll be engaged, but we won't get married until we've brought about peace.”

He groaned. “That could take forever!”

“Think of it as a way to celebrate the future unification of our people.”

He whined, imitating a child.

“Fine, but only if you live with me,” he pouted.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't hold back a grin. 

“Okay, Vanrouge. I think we can work that out.”

….

The letters from home were….concerning. You'd thought you were making progress, but the queen had just announced her engagement to a fae duke she had met during one of her visits to the Valley of Thorns. And the reactions were less than ideal.

You put away the reading glasses that you were using, and rubbed your eyes with a groan. It always felt like one step forward, ten steps back. 

Lilia would not be excited to postpone the wedding again. When you'd gotten the newest prescription of reading glasses, he'd been far more insisting about getting married sooner rather than later. But you intended to make him keep his promise.

“Why are you so distressed?” A voice called.

You turned to see the young fae prince, watching you expectantly.

Over the years you'd learned that he seemed cold, but that didn't mean anything. He was a sweet kid. He viewed Lilia as a father. It was endearing. A glimpse at a future you could have one day.

”I'm alright, your highness. Just feeling overworked.”

He tilted his head to the side, thinking. “Perhaps grandmother would allow you and Lilia to go on a trip.”

“That sounds nice, your highness, but I don't have time for-” you trailed off as you heard shouting in the hall outside, some knights bursting into your study and talking over themselves.

That is until they saw the prince, and shut themselves up, bowing deeply and apologizing to the prince.

You sighed internally. Both you and Lilia knew that treating the boy like a god was leaving him very lonely. You'd both been discussing ways to socialize him a bit more, but it was just as difficult as bringing lasting peace. And it didn't help that, despite his youth, he already possessed unmatched power.

“What's going on?” You interrupted, making the knights turn back to you.

“General Lilia, he-”

“We tried to stop them-”

Thunder boomed outside, and you quickly turned to the prince.

“Your highness, I'm sure he's fine,” you assured, trying to calm down what was already a torrential downpour. He turned to you, eyes distressed, and he nodded, only to be interrupted by the knights.

“He's not.”

“We're doing what we can, but-” 

“It looks bad.”

“Where is he?” You asked, grabbing Malleus' hand as you stood.

“Medical wing.”

You intended to walk Malleus and yourself to the medical wing, but the world around you burst into green sparks and darkness, and the next thing you knew you were looking at a non responsive Lilia.

“Thank you, your highness,” you groaned, trying to catch your bearings again.

He didn't respond, simply staring at Lilia. You looked over at a doctor, and they shook their heads. You released a sob, and fell to the floor, crying into his stomach. Thunder boomed, and you felt Malleus' much smaller hand fit into yours, squeezing it tightly. You sat up, and pulled him into what you hoped was a comforting hug. He didn't cry, but you could feel him shaking.

“Oh crumbs!” You heard a shout, followed by a sharp intake of breath, as the bed next to you jostled.

You looked over and saw Lilia staring at you with wide eyes.

“Sevens! You scared the hell out of me!” You sobbed, throwing your arms around him. “Don't ever do that again!”

“I don't intend to. The underworld seems very boring,” he groaned. Before you could ask, you were unceremoniously pulled away as the medics began to work on him again.

You turned to Malleus, but he was gone.

“What happened?” You asked over the hubbub.

“Apparently the Queen was betrothed to a human lord, when she was just a child, and he's not happy that she broke it off for a fae. He's sending an army, and I got run through by his scout,” he laughed bitterly. “I'm getting old, Y/N, I'd never have missed him in my heyday.”

“Oh hush, middle aged is not old,” you laughed through the tension, brushing away more tears. This was not good. Not for Lilia, not for you, not for your dreams….and not for the kingdoms. But at least he was alive.

Green sparks filled your vision, and Malleus had returned.

“My grandmother wants an audience with you when you can move, Lilia.”

Lilia nodded, and reached out for Malleus. “It's going to be okay. I promise.”

The next week went by in a blur. Even though Lilia had assured you that now that he'd seen the underworld he had no intention of going back, there were several rough nights, where he was racked with fever as infection came and went.

The second he was allowed to leave the bed, he took his requested audience with the queen. After a tense hour, he had sat you down on the sofa in your study, as he paced. At length, he sighed and turned to you.

“An army is indeed coming. It's nothing we can't handle, but considering how injured I was, the queen is rightfully concerned.”

You nodded.

“She has asked me to take the prince, and live in the forest with him until she deems it safe. In the meantime, I'm supposed to teach him, train him, and make sure that I heal properly. Come with me.”

You bit your lip. “Is that an option right now? Won't they need me, at least on the human side of things?”

“This isn't the time for a diplomat. This is the time where the royals have to hold the discussion. This is the time where advisors write up a peace treatise, and make promises. They don't need diplomats until later. And I'm certain your queen would rather know you were safe with me until she needs you.”

He made good points. And you had no idea how long this would go on. The thought of being without Lilia after having to see his dead body was not a thought you enjoyed having. So you agreed. Despite your hesitation, you decided to trust him.

….

The cabin was quaint. It was cozy,  very domestic, and, after banning Lilia from the kitchen, it was very safe. And with Malleus, you could almost pretend the three of you were the picture perfect family. Lilia handled the magic training, you handled the literature and the manners, and the emotional aspect of parenting. (Lilia had tried that last one, but had ended up making the young prince cry. Now only you are in charge of emotional development.) 

A warrior-strategist, and a scholar. The perfect parenting team to make one well rounded individual. Hopefully.

Lilia was in contact with the queen, but evidently the army had been more formidable than anyone could have expected from a rebel offshoot. Evidently, some fae had joined this human in his crusade, also unhappy at the attempts to bridge the gap.

You had attempted early on to keep track of the passage of time, but soon lost track. It was long enough that Malleus had had a growth spurt, and now towered over both you and Lilia. He was, evidently, in his angsty teenage phase, despite being a couple hundred years old. But in this time, he'd grown strong, learned self defense, and gained control over his magic.

It was wonderful to watch him grow. But the longer you were here, the more concerned you got for the future of your dreams.

“Y/N, I'm back,” Lilia called. You and Malleus were in the kitchen making dinner. Lilia had been out scavenging for berries as a treat for after dinner.

“In the kitchen!” You called. He peaked in.

“Can you come out here, please? I need to talk to you.” 

His expression looked serious, so you gave Malleus a couple instructions on what to do next, then walked out into the living space with Lilia. He was facing the window.

“Is it news from home?” 

“No. Please sit.”

You sat down, waiting with nerves on edge about what he didn't want to say in front of Malleus.

He turned to you, and you noticed a bundle in his arms. Then the bundle moved.

“What is seven's name?” You stood up, rushing to him. 

A child. Not just a child. A baby.

“Lilia, what is this?”

“I would think that was self explanatory, my love,” he snickered, gently passing you the baby boy. He was beautiful. And very asleep.

“His parents-”

Lilia shook his head, removing his coat, and setting down the basket of berries.

“I can't explain it, but he's been abandoned for a long time. No one is coming for him.”

“How do you know?”

“The magic on him serves a very specific purpose. No one is coming for him.”

The boy opened his eyes, his auroral hues blinking up at you sleepily. You were so absorbed in them, that you were surprised when you felt Lilia 's arms wrap around the both of you.

“You're a good parent. You've proved it with Malleus.” He whispered in your ear, a seductive lilt in his tone. “And a human child raised by a human diplomat, and their fae general husband, alongside the future fae king, would further the relations of our people.”

You nodded slowly.

“Can we keep him?” He whispered, his lips pressed directly to the shell of your ear.

You looked at the boy, then at Lilia, who was solely watching you, fixing you with the saddest expression.

You smiled softly, leaning in to kiss him.

“Of course we can.”

…..

It had taken Malleus some time to adjust to the new baby. But soon he was reading to it, telling it all about his kingdom, promising to take care of him forever.

Within a couple years(? To be honest you couldn't be sure, time living with fae went differently) Lilia insisted that Silver start training with himself and Malleus. You protested; your son had difficulty staying awake, and didn't have nearly the power that they both had, but both Lilia and Malleus had been insistent. They could feel the magic inside the boy, they assured you. And besides, with his build, and clear intelligence, he would make a great knight. Malleus would want people he was close to as his advisors in the future, and for that they would need experience. And with Malleus and Lilia pouting at you like that, and Silver just happy to be included, you couldn't say no for long.

You knew time was passing, but only because Silver was growing. You were told Malleus was probably at his full height and appearance, but you could barely test the passage of time that way anyway.

One day, an unfamiliar man arrived at the cabin. He slipped you a business card, that read,

Dire Crowley, Headmage of Night Raven College

“I'm here to observe your boys. Both of them will be old enough to attend not that far apart, and we like to scout early. The Dark Mirror says both show a lot of promise.”

Lilia seemed ecstatic, so you nodded along. They wouldn't be ready for college that soon, would they?

The scouting went well, but you found yourself increasingly concerned when you heard some of the things that both boys had done to train. Things you hadn't heard about.

But you didn't say anything. Not until the boys were in bed, and the Headmage was gone.

“When did you take them to the middle of the forest and leave them?” 

“Oh, that, don't worry about it, they're fine.”

“And what's this about you going with them? Wasn't the whole point for them to build relations with their peers and gain independence?”

“It's just for protection-”

“So, Silver and I will be alone for a year, then Silver will leave me the next year, and I'll be all by myself, when the boys are supposed to be figuring out how to live without you, and you are supposed to be helping me clean up after the war?” 

“There's a long time before then-”

“Is there?”

“Yes. And you can come with me. When we're married we can get married student housing-”

“We don't even know if we'll be married yet!”

“Why not?”

“Look at us, Lilia! We've been living in the woods for who knows how long, because of the dangers back home! Do you call that peace?”

He stared at you, then said, “Let's call it off. The promise. Let's just get married now.”

“First off, that's a terrible idea, based on how different our parenting style appears to be. Which, again,” this brought you back to what started the conversation, “how did I not know about your training exercises?”

“The boys and I knew you wouldn't like them, so we all agreed not to say anything.”

“I would have noticed if my sons were missing for a week!” You shouted.

“M/F?” You turned around, and there was Silver, looking at you with sad eyes.

“I'm sorry,” he whimpered.

“No, it's not your fault, baby, I just get worried about you, that's all,” you hugged him close, noticing Malleus staring at you from within the bedroom. He didn't move to get up, just looked at you for a moment, then looked away.

“You go back to bed, love, Father and I are done chatting,” you said. You watched Silver walk back to bed, shutting the door behind him. Then you walked to your bedroom that you shared with Lilia, hearing him follow close behind.

You snatched a pillow off the bed, grabbed your sleep wear, and walked back out, shutting the door behind you before he could say anything, and setting yourself up on the couch for the night.

It was three days before you spoke to Lilia again. Not that he didn't try. And not that the boys didn't seem to be trying to guilt you. You just…had to reflect.

Perhaps you weren't on the same page anymore…

That third afternoon, you went out on a walk to clear your head. Perhaps this was your fault. You'd lived with fae for so long, that you'd forgotten that there would be things you disagreed on, based on your species, and cultures. Perhaps you should have just talked to him, instead of being angry. You sighed, and returned back to the cabin.

When you stepped inside, you were greeted with soft pink lighting, and roses lining the walls, and windows. And standing before you, was Lilia.

“Before you yell at me again, the boys are camping outside tonight. I didn't drop them in the middle of the woods.”

You smiled softly. Until the smell hit you. Sevens. Lilia had made you dinner.

“I made you a romantic apology meal. Just for the two of us. And the boys were so sweet, they insisted on making things for themselves so that you and I could have all of it.”

You bit your tongue. He was trying to apologize. No need to say anything. 

“Well! Dig in!” He said excitedly as you sat at the kitchen table.

The dinner was silent at first, Lilia eating, and you trying not to die.

“I heard from my queen. We can come back now. Though,” he groaned bitterly, “you have a lot of work cut out for you on your end, from the sounds of it.”

“I always do. Did she say why?”

“No, just that it wouldn't be easy to handle.”

He went quiet again, then put his silverware down, looking directly at you.

“I meant it. We should throw out our initial deal, and just get married when we get back.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off.

“Even if we get a lasting peace between our two kingdoms, it won't really do anything. Not right away. It'll take years and generations for our nations to fully achieve the dream across every nation of fae and human. I can't wait forever. And neither can you.”

“Of course I can wait,” you laughed. “Until we live in a world where children don't have to hide in the woods, it feels selfish to get married.”

He huffed. “I get that. I do. But what happens if it doesn't happen in your lifetime?”

“Lilia,” you sighed tiredly. “I'm asking you to respect this one request. I let you do a lot, live mostly the way you want me to, all I ask is that we wait. In the meantime, we teach our boys how to be good men.”

He looked like he wanted to fight, but seeing the certainty on your face, he fell into silence, eating the rest of the dinner quietly, then pushing out of his chair, slipping into your lap, and trapping you in a passionate kiss.

The next day was spent packing, and preparing the boys for royal life, and what that meant for them. And then, just like that, your days spent in the cabin in the woods were over.

The castle looked untouched, but the destroyed landscaping spoke volumes. Everything in your study was as you left it. But you didn't have time to enjoy it, because the Queen had informed you that your Queen had died, and left the Fae duke she'd married, now the king, with a half human child. Apparently, both of them needed you. You were sent on your way before you had a chance to talk to Lilia or the boys. 

It wasn't for several more months that Lilia could come join you. He barely wanted to let you go. You couldn't blame him, nor would you try to stop him. You felt so ragged. So worn down. You just needed him to hold you for a while.

He told you Silver had to remain in the Valley of Thorns now that he was officially training, but that he had his birthday party next month, and both his queen and your king had given you leave to attend. 

You were so glad. Things around here had finally been settling, so you'd hoped to come see Lilia and your boys in a more permanent capacity soon.

He'd begrudgingly left, his face pained as he separated from you.

You were so tired. And as the next month went by, you began to think to yourself that, if Lilia asked you to go forward with the wedding this time, you'd say yes. You were so tired. So much pain. So lonely. You needed your boys.

And it wasn't until you were at Silver’s party that you realized what was wrong.

You knew it was Silver’s birthday. But how was he eleven already? That….that couldn't be right? You'd barely aged a day, since….

Your eyes widened, and you were rocked with a wave of nausea. Silver looked up from his cake, his eyes wide in concern.

“M/F, are you alright?” He whispered.

“Yeah, I just need to grab something from my study before I forget.”

Before he could say anything, you rushed out of the party room, and into your study. You locked the door behind you, and turned to the mirror you had hanging on the wall. 

You stared in increasing horror. You should be showing signs of aging at this point. There should be more lines on your face. More of your hair should have changed color. This wasn't right.

You hadn't heard him enter the room, but Lilia scared you when he pressed his lips to your neck.

“If you're worried, you're as beautiful as the day I met you,” Lilia whispered seductively.

“That's the problem, isn't it,” You laughed dryly. “I shouldn't be.”

You felt him stiffen behind you, before laughing it off.

“Well, you do need prescription glasses now, but I'll always love you, no matter how old you get.”

“Lilia,” you said, feeling empty. You turned to him, horror beginning to overtake your features. “How long did we live in the woods?”

“Listen-”

“Please, I'm begging you. Tell me this isn't something you did. I'll believe you, just explain what's going on.”

“Y/N-”

“There were no mirrors in the cabin, and I had no way of tracking the days…Sevens, you did that on purpose!”

“Now hang on-”

“What the fuck did you do?” You finally screamed out, the full implications sinking in.

He froze, his expression unreadable. Then he began to tremble ever so slightly.

“I can't lose anyone else. Especially not you.”

You sat on the floor, your body no longer able to support itself.

“Oh sevens…”

“I slipped a potion into your food every single day. It extended your life, and froze your body from that point on.”

“Lilia,” you spoke hoarsely, “why didn't you ask if that was what I wanted?”

“You wouldn't even marry me! Why should I have believed you'd agree to immortality?” He shouted, beginning to pace, in anger or fear, you couldn't be sure.

“So,  what then? You were just going to keep me drugged on this forever and ever? When did you plan to start drugging Silver? When he's fully grown, or can you even wait that long?”

“That's not fair!”

“I'm tired, Lilia! Without you telling me how long we lived there, I can feel that I shouldn't still be continuing the way I am!”

“That's just because of the withdrawal!” He said, hastily pulling a bottle out of his pocket. “Take some more, you'll feel better.”

“No!” You pulled the engagement ring off your finger, and made your way to the door.

“You're acting like a child,” he shouted behind you.

You ignored him as you opened the door, only to see Malleus standing in front of it, an emerald fireball in his hand.

“Please, Y/N, just listen to Lilia. I do not want to have to hurt you.”

“Step aside,” you said.

“No. You're acting irrationally. You need to relax,” Malleus said firmly, and you began to feel drowsy.

“No, Malleus, this is wrong,” you groaned out as you felt your consciousness fading.

"I thought so too. But Lilia showed me that it was the only way.  You both are my only family…”

You wanted to protest that this is not how you treat people you love. But all you were aware of was Lilia’s arms around you as you collapsed.

You awoke to the cold metal of a spoon pressed to your lips.

“Eat,” Lilia said lightly. He didn't seem nearly as distraught as he was during your argument.

“What happens if I stop taking the potion?” You asked with a glare.

He stiffened, setting the spoon down.

“You've already been off it for several months. I'm certain you're already feeling the effects. Your outside will remain the same, but age will quickly catch up to your mind and your inside. I give you three months before you are bed bound.”

He pressed the spoon to your lips again, seemingly believing that the revelation would make you want it. You kept your mouth firmly shut.

He stared at you, the anger quickly returned to his face. He threw the spoon across the room, then buried his head in his hands.

“You can't do this to me. You can't let me watch you die.”

“I'm going to do exactly that!”

“You! Fine! Get out then!” He shouted. “Give up on me and our dreams. I just hope you realize how stupid it is before it's too late.”

You stood up, your legs feeling weak, but you couldn't let him see the weakness. You might lose your only chance to leave. You stormed out.

You hastily packed up the things in your study, then quickly made your way to the training barracks. 

Silver was taking care of the horses. He looked up at you excitedly.

“Hello, M/F!”

“Come on, Silver, we're going on a little trip.”

“A trip?” He looked around, but nodded.

“Okay.”

You couldn't leave him with Lilia. Lilia, the one who always claimed to love and care about humans, but who clearly didn't seem to think of them as equal enough to decide, or even be asked, if they wanted their entire life to be altered.

You saddled a horse, and and helped Silver into the saddle with you, then urged the horse to a run.

The sky quickly broke into emerald lightning and thunder, torrential rain soaking the both of you.

Lilia must have told Malleus that you'd left. Just like with Lilia, you'd thought Malleus loved and respected you. And maybe he did. Perhaps Lilia had twisted him to his view point, manipulating that pure love he had in his heart to his own ends. 

At this point you couldn't put anything past Lilia.

“Y/N L/N!” 

As the voice called your name, you lost all control of your body, pulling the reins and halting the horse.

You sat frozen in place, unable to even look at Silver, who was turning to look at you, asking in concern about what was wrong.

But you couldn't move.

“Y/N L/N,” Lilia floated in front of you, not so gently extricating Silver from the saddle. “Enlighten me. What gives you the right to steal my son?”

Never give the fae your name. You could cry now. The one who had warned you was now teaching you the lesson.

“I thought he was our son,” you spat.

“The paperwork only has me as his legal guardian. And you never married me, nor signed any adoption paperwork. So, what gives you the right to steal my son?”

You choked on a sob. And with a hoarse shout, you spat, “I hate you!”

His eyes went cold. “No. You don't. You will take that back this instant, and properly apologize to me.”

You found yourself dismounting the horse, tears flowing down your cheeks as your free will was gone, your name abused.

“I'm sorry.” You spit out. “I'm sorry that I tried to save Silver from a fate he didn't deserve.”

Lilia's glare sharpened. And with that he vanished with Silver, leaving you alone in the rain.

Nine years later

History repeats itself. Lilia had never expected his young Lord to fall in love with a human.

“I want you to hold onto this feeling. Remember that humans live short lives. That's the way things have to be.”

Now that he was nearing graduation, he was beginning to see what you meant about nurturing Malleus’ independence. Letting him go was not going well.

He sighed, having finally arrived at his destination. He  held up the magenta rose he'd brought with him, staring at it. He still felt embarrassed looking at you, even after all this time. 

By the time his head had cleared, and he'd realized just how far he had gone, it was too late. He was so tired now. And he deserved it.

This exhaustion. Was this what you felt in your final days?

He looked down at the grave, placing the rose alongside the others that he had brought over the years.

Nine roses. One for each year. None of them showing any signs of age.

Perhaps he hasn't completely learned his lesson.

He supposed he should bring Silver and Malleus to your grave one day. Maybe it would give Silver closure. Maybe it would remind Malleus not to make the same mistakes.

Maybe it would lift some of the guilt from Lilia's shoulders.

He sat down on the grass, sighing heavily. He was getting old.

“I have a lot to tell you. It's been quite a year…”

....

Tag list- @shytastemakerthing @eccedentesiast-sapphic @leoll

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge #lilia x reader

[tranquil-ivy]

၇͜ᩘ𑁍𝒲𝒾𝓁𝒹𝒻𝓁ℴ𝓌ℯ𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝒹 ℬ𝒶𝓇𝓁ℯ𝓎⸙

Hey there pookies, you can fully blame Hozier for releasing his EP today. Wildflower and Barley is my favorite song off is and I wept while writing this so hopefully y'all will too :)

Song

Words: 1.6k

CW: Talks of Death

Damnation! Leon Kennedy x Reader

His jaw clenched, grip tight on the steering wheel as the engine sputtered to a halt. His old Jeep usually never failed him, even if he'd been ignoring the 'check engine light' for the past week on the road. He knew that ol' reliable would pull through before his last stop.

That's what denial told him at least...

But not everything can be relied on, he knew that. Why would he bother holding out?

In silence, he pops the hood, being met with steam. Of course... Nothing he could patch up and move on with.

A disgusted sigh slips from frowning lips as he slams the hood back down, anger settling in as he goes to grab his bag from the passenger seat. Reaching for his keys, they slip from the ignition and fumble under the seat.

"God damnit..." He mumbles, reaching, reaching far under the seat. His hand stops feeling something hard and smooth. He pulls at it, looking down at the iPod in his hand.

Your iPod.

He presses down on the power, surprised to see the screen light up as the company logo pops up and the lock shows. Swiping through it, he taps the video app. Seeing the massive collection of videos, he scrolls to the bottom. Hitting the last one, opening it to the sound of your laughter.

"You look ridiculous!" Your voice chirps as he sees himself standing in your old apartment bathroom as he combs his hair with his fingers in the mirror. Pushing through the botched blotchy dye job, he gave himself to be a brunet for an assignment in Pittsburgh.

"Stop laughing and help me fix it!" His head jolts around, softly glaring at you as the camera shakes from your held back laughter.

"Are you recording this? Get over here." The camera jostles around as you shake from Leon pulling you over to him. The camera moves to yours and his reflection in the mirror. His arms around you, head sitting on your shoulder, and that same shit eating grin on your face you'd always give when he was annoyed with you.

"It's so... Patchy. Kinda like old dog fur." You giggle as his head lifts to turn towards you.

"I'll show you dog." Leaning in, he bites your shoulder, an excited yelp leaving your lips as the video cuts off.

He smiled, briefly. Two years ago.

Simpler times...

Slipping the iPod in his pocket, he grabs his keys and starts walking. No idea where, but the road had to lead somewhere eventually.

So he walked down the road, the spring morning heat turning to afternoon as the sun blared down on him. He had to have been at least a few miles from his Jeep by now. Trees are getting thinner as open country fields come into view.

You'd always wanted to go to the countryside, even just for a weekend.

Leon stops for a moment, looking out at the open fields, fields of wildflowers and what he thinks is barley.

You were the smart one in your relationship. Always so knowledgeable about the weirdest things.

So different from him. So delicate and beautiful compared to his rough edges and awkward sense of humor that would always make you crack up.

Would...

He swallows the lump forming in his throat, pulling at the chain carrying old dog tags and a pill pendent. The shade looks inviting in the heat.

So he wanders over, trying to avoid stepping on flowers as he walks. Knowing he'll probably be covered in pollen by the time he's out of here.

Finally, making it to the thin patch of shade, he sits against the tree, taking in the floral scenery around him. Thinking about how beautiful it was.

Fishing in his pocket, he grabs your iPod, opening it and goes back to the videos. Flipping through the thumbnails, when he spots himself, two pens hanging from his mouth like long fangs.

He clicks the video, seeing himself propped against the small counter and sink of a doctor's office. A woman in bright pink scrubs walking past while you chuckle.

He remembers this day, you had to get blood drawn. He knew how much you hated needles, and while trying to distract you from the incoming pinch, shoved the pens in his mouth as a joke.

That was a year ago...

What he'd give to go back to that day. To make you laugh all over again. To drop the pens from his mouth by accident and get dirty looks from the nurse and make you laugh harder. Or even just to see the smile on your face when he got embarrassed and acted like nothing happened to save face. To just bargain with the universe to give you back, even just for a second.

Leon continues flipping through the videos, seeing memory after memory. He stops, noticing the gap between videos.

Six months and two months ago...

His hands start to shake as he clicks on the video from six months ago. You pop up on the screen.

Tubes in your nose in a close-up shot. Eyes baggy and tired against your abnormally dull skin. A small smile on your face as the camera moves to your right, his sleeping face appearing curled up on your shoulder as he cuddles up to you in the hospital bed.

"Big baby can't go five minutes without being next to me since he got home from Russia." You lean in giving him a soft kiss on the forehead as his nose wrinkles. Loud snores erupting from him as you wrap your arm around him tighter.

"Sleeps like a bear... A giant teddy bear." You hold the camera back, seeing him intertwined with you under the plush throw blanket he brought to the hospital for you.

"But, he's my bear. And I wouldn't want it any other way."

He feels the burn of tears at the back of his eyes. His nose stinging.

Of all the things life could take from him, why you? The one light he had that could turn the pitch black midnight skies of Winter into the midday sunshine of Summer.

The thick jacket of grief hangs over his shoulders again that he's tried shoving off since you died.

He's kept going for two months straight, not stopping or slowing down to let time catch up with him.

This has been the first time since the week off he took after your funeral he's been anywhere but work or sleeping on the couch, refusing to sleep in bed. Not without you. Falling into an even deeper depression than he already was in.

The wind picks up, ripping loose flowers from the ground, landing at the side of his thigh. Picking it up, he runs his thumb over the soft pink petals. Tiny traces of brown dusted the edges.

Rot... Disgusting rot even infects untouched places like this.

He lets the flower go as it drifts off in the wind. Looking back down, he took in a deep breath, squeezing his eyes for a moment to hold back his tears. Clicking the last video.

Two months ago...

You look so tired... Run down by countless trips to the doctor. Medication, minor procedures and time.

You sit back in your hospital bed with a sight. The soft night light in the room only illuminates you as you look back at the camera. Your voice is soft as you speak.

"It's a little past 2... I can't sleep. My surgery's in," you look off-screen, squinting, head swiveling back, "six-ish hours... I'm nervous."

Biting your lip you shrug. Letting out a rough huff of air.

"I've come to terms with it... The doctor said there's only a 20% success rate..." You go quiet, looking away from the camera.

"My parents have no idea how technology works... So when you see this Leon... Tell them I love them... And I love you. More than anyone I've ever loved before. Thank you for being the love of my life, even if it was only for a short time. Five years isn't long enough... But they were the happiest five years of my life."

You smile, lean into the camera, put your hand to your lips, and blow him a kiss.

"Take care of yourself for me, baby."

Leon sniffs as he stares down at the screen. Feeling the overwhelming ache in his chest. Tears finally spill as his throat closes, making him gag for air.

He coughs, feeling sick, not being able to stop the tears from flowing. This, this was the way his body finally made him grieve.

Whether he wanted to or not.

After a while, he leans back against the tree again, clutching his chain after he slips it off. Looking down at the pill attached next to his dog tags.

You... Little old you, always going with him wherever you could or wherever he was willing.

Even now, he carries part of your ashes with him. Just so he could take you to that beautiful countryside, get away, he promised you after surgery.

He had every intention of getting you somewhere beautiful to rest. Somewhere he knew you'd love.

Among nature, the beautiful shades of colors you adored so much, almost as much as he loved you.

He stands up and walks out of the shade as the wind starts picking up again. Turning his back to the wind as flowers and weeds flew past him.

"I love you baby. Always have, always will." He kisses the pill pendent one last time, unscrewing it, and tosses the bit of your ashes into the wind.

Accepting that he has to let you go, even if it kills him.

Letting you fly free in the sky, among the weeds.

Among the wildflower and barley.

#🌿 ivy writes #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader

[powderblueblood]

THE BOY IS MINE (POWDER'S VERSION)

delighted to be involved in @carolmunson's eddie challenge because when do i not want to write about the boy! looping in @vvitchwords and @howdidyouallgetinmyroom for no pressure funsies, and you if you're reading this and want to do it. tag me! cw: here you'll find eddie x fem!reader in almost an implied situationship... a little bit angsty, a little bit cosmic, a little bit meta. ambiguous ending! mentions of dick and horniness but no outright smut. wc: 2k

“Ding dong.”

Hey, it’s you! Eddie grins under the flickering porchlight, crossing his arms as he leans against the door frame, paint chips falling. 

“Howdy, little hobo.”

“Tch– what a deeply unflattering and libelous nickname. Can I come in?”

“I don't know, it’s been a while…” he says, smacking his tongue against his teeth, “How do I know you haven’t caught something?”

“Look, can we dispense with the cleverness and give me a ‘y’ or an ‘n’ here? I've had a day.” You prop up the brown grocery bag like an infant against the dip of your hip. “and I brought libations.” 

“Booze?!” Eddie's mouth bounces around the ‘b’ and he ushers you inside with a flourish. “Well, why didn’t ya say so? M’lady, right this way…”

And he’s right, by the way. It'd been a while, just the two of you. He'd been here doing god knows what with god knows who and you’d been up the walls doing a whole lot of nothing. But coming back together, it always felt like putting on an old shoe. Comfortable, reliable, broken in. Eddie watches you breathe in a lungful of the Munson trailer’s fragrant air, top notes of stale cigarette smoke and Beefaroni sparkling alongside Eddie's dark eyes as he hops up on the counter. Barefoot, beatific, lovely as all hell. 

You wag your finger in warning.

“Don’t get comfortable, chicken. I have a very romantic meal planned.”

“Oh, you do, do you?”

“Yeah!” you chirp, digging a bottle of horrible merlot out of the brown paper bag. Thunk. “I brought dessert…” followed by a tub of vanilla frosting. Thunk. “...followed by dessert.” 

Eddie, from where he perches, tries to peer further into the bag. “Where's the rest of it?”

“There’s– what? that’s it.”

“Wine and frosting?”

“I cut to the chase,” you tell him, popping open the can and stepping into the living room, “Whose favourite part of the cupcake is the cake part? Get real.”

“You’re nothin’ if not pragmatic,” Eddie sighs wistfully, slipping back off the counter and casting a glance to the pile of dirty dishes in the sink. He swallows and tacks on, “and that is why I like you so bad.”

Eddie shuffles around the kitchen, looking around for appropriate receptacles with absolutely none in sight. Shouldn’t matter, right? But even after all this time, he’s still trying to impress you. even with how… low maintenance this thing between you is. 

“I ran out of, like, nice cups. Is this okay?”

You stare at the novelty mug he’s holding out to you. Like, really stare at it. 

“I'll bring you my ten dollar-est bottle of wine and you’re gonna make me drink out of the haunted bear chalice?”

That thing is really fucking awful. It’s shaped in a convincing enough impression of a teddy bear, but pockmarked like a peanut shell and staring at you with the milky, demonic eyes of an ancient evil. Where does Wayne find this shit?

“Well, I never know when you’re gonna show up so I never know when I oughta, like, polish the crystal!”

“You’re too busy polishing something else in my absence, I'm guessing.”

Eddie's eyelids lower, his brows quirk, his lips curl over all Don Juan-like. “What happens between me and my buffering rag is none of your business.”

“How come you get the Garfield one?” you poke, gesturing to the bright orange cat shaped thing in his opposite hand. 

“Because it’s my trailer and it’s my party and I'll Garf if I want to.”

“What if I wanna Garf?”

“Tough break, sweetheart.”

“I'm the guest, I should be allowed to Garf.”

“Nope.”

“Please?”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Garf me!”

“If you don’t stop, we’re gonna have a problem,” Eddie says, all-mock glowery and stern. “Take your fugly little bear and pass the frosting.”

You brought red wine because you know how docile and touchy it makes him, and he knows that you know. Eddie relishes in it, that faint berry buzz staining his lips and the outer edges of his brain. He digs another fingerful of frosting out of the container and sucks it right down his gullet, so noisily that it makes you clear your throat. You look up from your end of the couch, from that notebook you’re always scribbling in. He wonders how you can even see, since the only real light source in the living room is from the television blaring Headbangers Ball.

“Oh shit. Am I distracting you?” he says, all mock-coquette, and sucks his finger right down to the hog’s head ring with an exaggerated slurp. “From your investigative journalism or whatever?”

You note something down, pointedly, and shove him in the thigh with your socked foot. 

“Stop trying to seduce me. It’s not gonna work.”

“I'm sorry, Mrs. Robinson.” Eddie's voice is a smooth sing-song with some grumble under the surface, his bared, smiling teeth catching the light of the TV. Jeez. 

“I'm writing the biography of some graceless idiot,” you prod a little further, scribbling on the page just to scribble.

Eddie hikes up in his seat, wine almost sloshing over Garfield's open cranium. 

“I fucking knew it!” he cackles, jabbing a triumphant finger into your calf, “I'm your muse. I'm the reason for which your artistic heart beats. I’m your bottomless well of inspiration–”

“You have frosting on your nose.”

Eddie leans toward you, hand still on your leg. His tongue pokes out and swipes nowhere near his nose. “Did I get it?”

“No.”

Another attempt. “How ‘bout now?”

“Mm-mm.”

His dark eyes round out, pout very much pouting. He's a great pouter. That could be what you miss most about him, when you’re away.

“I think I need help,” Eddie whines.

You scoff, setting down the bear mug and the notebook on the ground. 

“You’re fuckin’ relentless, you know that?”

With a couple of shuffles, you plant your thighs on either side of Eddie's lap and cup the back of his head. He's got a smug little look splashed across his face now, one that you know just how to wipe off. Your tongue licks a smidge of frosting from the tip of his characterful, unforgettable, rideable nose and Eddie's breath hitches. His hands, his fingers cuffed up in silver, dig into your thighs. Your faces, inches apart and his lashes falling as his hips ever-so-gently kick into yours.

“Shit,” he breathes, teeth pressing into his lower lip as his face tilts you-ward. “I’m at your mercy, you know that?”

You wind a couple of his curls around your fingers and Eddie presses his forehead to yours with a hum. He’s so sweet. so eager, even at the first touch. teasing his way into it but immediately losing the fight, already begging for more. 

“You’re missing your show,” you inform him uselessly as his hands move up your thighs. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Eddie tells you, with a hairline crack running through his voice, “It’s only fucking Mötley Crüe. I wanna run Vince Neil over with a ride on lawnmower. This is quelling my rage.”

You pull your head back a little and shake it. “You wait all week for The Ball, Eddie.”

“I wait—…” he nearly chases you as you move from him, neck going stiff. A grin masks the earnestness teeming out of him, but the wine has made it a little more obvious. He doesn’t want to come on too strong, but strong is all Eddie knows. “I wait all week for you.”

Your tongue clucks against your teeth and he kind of can’t stand that pitying way you’re looking at him, and it’s kind of all he ever wants to see again ever forever in his whole life ever. 

“Baby,” you mumble, like it’s stupid, and he knows it.

Eddie’s slowly losing the last fuck he has to give. He chuckles, lightly, desperately. 

“But I do!” he tells you, hands sure on your hips, “I do. I wrote you into a campaign this week, y’know—even though I knew you’d hate it.”

“Mm. Even though I told you not to.”

“Yeah, even though,” he shrugs, defiant. “She's great, though—she’s a creature of the fae that’ll bewitch you on sight. And she bends around the light, appearing and disappearing at will, but you can always kinda feel her there.”

“Like psoriasis.”

“Tchyeah. her flare ups are a bitch to handle.”

“Scabby and painful, just how you like your women.” You sit back a little. He registers.

“Aw. Don’t be like that. That’s not even—...” he runs a thumb along your cheek, more for him than for you. “She just needs some soothing and she’ll be okay.“

“Eddie,” you say, and your tone’s not dark, but it could be, “do me a favour. Don’t immortalise me.”

“Huh?” his brows knit.

“It's not good for you. It’s gonna make you think I'm something that I'm not.”

“But…” 

“But but.”

“But what if that’s the only way I can get close to you?” Again, that facetious look on his face, that sardonic smile that’s masking everything except the spellbound look in his eyes. Dark stars dancing in his irises from the twilight of the TV. “And I really wanna be close to you?”

“Making up stories about me? Living in your own head?” It’s something he’s heard his whole life, but you phrase it soft. But he knows what you mean. “And you like that?” 

“Fuck yeah,” Eddie insists. because it’s something worth protecting, actually. “Have you been outside lately? It sucks.”

You give a little. “Salient point.”

“Besides. You write about me, how is it any different?”

“Well, I write the facts. So I can remember you. You write fantasies, so you can enjoy me.”

Eddie shakes his shaggy haired head. you’re not winning this one. 

“Sorry, smartass, but there’s no way you’re writing objective facts in there. It’’s all gonna be tainted from your point of view,” his clutch on you moves to your waist and he sits up a little straighter, “which, I don’t mind. I like your point of view.” A beat. “I like that you’re seeing me at all.”

“Oh. Eddie.” It’s not as if people don’t, it’s not as if… you know, he has nobody, but the way you dig him is special. The way you dice him up.

“God,” he groans, his forehead sinking into your chest, “How can someone make me so emotional and horny. Not right. Feels like a spy tactic. You workin’ for the opposition, trying to take me down?”

“Yeah, because you’re such hot patriotic property,” your hand pets at the crown of his head, “Who died and made you America's sweetheart?”

“This boner is a betrayal of my countrymen.”

“Try a couple of bars of the national anthem and maybe you’ll calm down.”

Eddie's head pulls back so he can look at you, trying to pull focus from the way his dick is straining in his flannel pants. But, tough shit, crapshoot. He wants to press you into this sofa and rut into you slow, feel the suction of you surrounding him. 

“Why aren’t we doing this again?” he asks, bleary-kinda.

“Because you get too sad when I have to leave,” you say into his curls, “and sometimes I have to leave.”

“So why do you still come here?” and when he asks you this, he doesn’t feel sad. doesn’t feel a cold shock, an empty feeling like you’ve described before. Eddie just wants to know, now, while he’s in the warmth of you. 

“Because… well… no one else is worth writing about right now.”

That's okay. It’ll do. He'll take what he can get from you, even if it isn’t everything. Because what he can get is great. you smile at each other, wineskinned and a little lopsided, and you ease yourself off to cuddle into his side while The Ball plays on. 

“God, those pants really leave nothing to the imagination, do they?”

“What’s that?” Eddie or Vince Neil?

“I can see the full outline of your penis head.”

“And what a glorious sight, you ungrateful degenerate.”

“Never said it wasn’t. It’s a nice shape. But.”

You push a throw pillow into Eddie's lap and he hisses a little. “If you don’t stop…”

“You’re gonna hump that pillow and think of me?”

Eddie's brain staggers alongside the beat of Ride My Rocket by Pantera as it blares from the set, looking at you with a cocked open mouth. “Yes! Obviously!”

#published by powder #e. munson by powder #eddie munson x reader

[rainbowsuitcase]

To everyone wanting censorship on AO3: Wattpad fucked me up more

cw: mentioning a bunch of sentivie topics, not going into details about any of them

I think I can, in some ways, be considered someone who grew up on the internet. Granted, my internet looked different than it does today and I spent most of my time on game sites made specifically for kids, but I also spent a lot of nights on Wattpad.

Sure, I read the normal stuff that a 12 year old would. Horse girl stories and jokes and shitty poetry and a bunch of fanfiction for media I never heard of, just because it was cute.

You know what I also read? BDSM and kink. Rape and kidnapping and stockholm syndrome and incest and romanticized abusive relationships. And you know why? Because none of it was tagged.

Wattpad has censorship. Wattpad deletes stories that don't follow its guidelines and so the people writing them are trying to hide from the system by not tagging properly and not describing their stories accurately.

Sure, AO3 does not have censorship, so we can probably assume it has more of these "problematic" stories, but you know what all of them are? Tagged.

Sure, I've scrolled past some rape stories, and incest and romanticized abuse, but I have never clicked on one thinking it was something it wasn't.

The only time I read something I didn't want to on AO3 was when I forgot to filter its tag out completely and didn't see it in the tags of the fic.

Granted, I wasn't on AO3 when I was 12 years old. But even if I was, you know what AO3 has always had that Wattpad doesn't? Age rating and a disclaimer.

(To be fair, apparently Wattpad has a Mature rating now, but from what I've heard, it's not exactly reliable.)

All banning and censoring things does is force people to come up with ways to get around it. That will always happen. That is inevitable. And that does nothing to protect the kids.

I know that, because I was one of those kids.

#fandom discourse #proship #antiship #ao3 #wattpad #censorship #ao3 community #fandom culture #and for the record #i genuinely cannot remember the last time i saw one of those “problematic” fics #so it's not like ao3 is overfilled with them

[cream-stew]

cw: overstimulation. mirror sex. bimbo, afab! sub! reader. slight mean dom! boyfriend! thoma. usage of baby and sweetheart.

college boy! thoma, your friendly neighborhood, campus sweetheart. he's that guy that you can easily feel comfortable with if you happen to get seated next to him. reliable, kind — he's the type of guy to offer the professors assistance if he ever happens upon them carrying heavy stacks of papers.

a nice young man, he just radiates good vibes!

yeah, we're already familiar with this type of thoma au.

you could say he's relatively part of the popular kids, there's no one on campus grounds who hasn't heard of thoma.

what they don't know is, behind that sweet smile, is a mean bully.

besides thoma, you're also part of the popular group. although, you're not exactly known for being helpful or… smart, unlike thoma. but you're just as sweet! you also happen to be the captain of the cheerleading squad.

with your cute smile and bubbly personality, people also recognize you as a friendly person. you're just so endearing, no one has the heart to be mean to you.

ah, maybe except for thoma…

he's so needlessly mean! is something you'd say while you're sprawled against the blond's front, your legs wide open, one of his hands rubbing mercilessly all over your slit. no matter how much you whine for him no more, he'll just chuckle and give your neck a kiss, then a bite, then a lick.

"just one more? you're just so pretty when you cum. look!" he says, nuzzling against your temple, urging you to face the mirror that's stood in front of you. "c'mon, baby, one more. for me?"

that's what he said two orgasms ago :( yet he still hasn't given you what you want, what you need.

how could he ever resist though? walking around in your tight cheerleading uniform, it just looks so lovely on you, his stare can't help but linger. the way the cropped top perfectly accentuates your torso and your… assets, how it exposes your tummy — god, how much he's itching to pepper it with licks and kisses. and the way the skirt sways and brushes across your thighs, oh so enticingly.

it's stupidly short too. it's not supposed to be that short. you must've gotten the wrong size. or maybe… you're doing this on purpose? you tease.

still, it really does suit you, especially right now — the way it bunches up over your legs.

you try enticing him by grinding further into his chest, rubbing your ass against his warm crotch. you reach up to grab onto the side of his neck, something to ground yourself — it was just too much. the way his calloused fingertips would brush against that spongy spot inside you, over and over.

"please, thoma — hhah! i-inside, please. i wan' you, inside."

you hear him curse underneath his breath.

"ju — fuck. oh… — jus' one more, sweetheart. promise. i wanna see how far those legs can spread."

thoughts are being thunk, cream-stew 🤸‍♀️. — with luv, thoma corruption kink! anon. btw, can i be an emoji anon? 👉👈. if so, can i be 🐾?

i sent a copy of this earlier, i just realized i forgot to copy some parts. i'm really sorry about that. you can delete the old one!

🔞 minors dni

warnings: afab reader, overstimulation, dacryphilia, in depth cws at the top of the ask this is just a lil reminder

// note: ok so I'm literally in love with this request shgkhfsd my addition is a lil lackluster in comparison I think but what can I say... the ask was already too good on its own🤝

he's so needlessly mean! nobody would believe you ofc why would they? he's always so sweet and acts so innocent, nobody would believe he's keeping you seated on his lap facing away from him, your legs forcefully spread as he fingers you ruthlessly !!

you're in front of a mirror too, so he can't miss your blissed out expression as he abuses your clit, rubbing it over and over just to make you cum one more time.

"so much-", you babble, teary eyed, as his fingers dip past your entrance again, scraping against your pussy walls, "thoma-! it's too much-!"

he chuckles as he keeps going, kissing the side of your neck while he's at it. "yeah baby? are you sure? you're still clamping down on my fingers so much, like you don't want me to pull them out… it looks like you want to cum again!"

you whimper as he keeps fucking his fingers in and out of you, more fluids gushing out of you. his other hand is under your crop top, groping your tits and playing with your nipples just as mercilessly as he'd treated your clit, and you know he's right, you are about to cum again… but you want him to fuck you properly !! this isn't satisfying enough, he's just being such a mean bully :(

he's so mean, in fact, that he's even ignoring his own arousal, his clothed cock rubbing against your ass whenever you try to grind down on him, to distract him from abusing your pussy with his fingers, tempting him to use something else instead.

he literally doesn't care tho... he just wants to play with you and make you cry :(

the hand pinching your nipple suddenly trails down, rubbing your clit instead while his other hand still pumps three fingers in and out of you, squelching noises filling the room alongside your pathetic whimpering, and you cum quickly with the added stimulation.

you squirm in his lap, trying to close your legs as he keeps fingering you through your orgasm, your hands reaching backwards to hold on to him in desperation.

he coos at you, finally pulling his fingers out and tasting your fluids off of them, sucking them in his mouth greedily. 

you slump back against his chest, too tired to even open your eyes and check how ruined your reflection might look, and he just laughs at how pliant you are. "do you want your reward, baby? do you want me to fuck you?"

"yes, thoma, please-!", you cry out, tears running down your face, overstimulated to hell and back yet still craving for more.

#genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #thoma x reader #thoma smut #🐾 anon

[strawheart-pirate]

Home

Sabo x gn!Reader

December 23rd 2023 Words: 809 CW: SFW / modern AU / established relationship / fluff / worries / overthinking / comfort / mention of narcolepsy

Sabo and you are on your way to his hometown to celebrate Christmas with his family. You haven't met his brothers yet, and you're worried if they'll like you.

You fiddled with the hem of your sweater. Sabo and you had been a couple for about five months now, and you were going to go to his home town for Christmas. You wanted to meet his brothers, and you were as nervous as you were excited. Would they like you? What if they didn't? Would they hate you? Despise you? What would that mean for Sabo and you... Your mind is racing and it shows on your face. While you frown with worry, Sabo gently puts his hand on your thigh and rubs it slowly to calm you down.

"No, don't. They'll love you, I promise." He smiled softly, and you were about to cry. This man really had a sixth sense or something. He always seemed to know exactly what you were thinking and when you were struggling, and your heart ached at the feeling of comfort. A small smile spread over your face. "Can you please tell me a little more about them? A story? I think it might ease my anxiety."

"Sure, I'd love to. Christmas with my brothers was always crazy. I remember Ace hiding behind the couch most of the time because he was scared of Santa Claus. And Luffy would make fun of him. They would bicker and fight until the bearded old man stood right in front of them. He had an intimidating aura about him. In no time, both boys were on their knees, begging for mercy because they knew they hadn't been good all year. It was hilarious. Dadan used to laugh so hard she couldn't breathe when she saw it".

"And you were never afraid of the old man with the white beard?" You laughed and couldn't help but tease.

"No, I recognized his voice at once. He was a fisherman from the village. One who was out at sea almost around the clock, but since I was the one Dadan always sent to bring him something when he was ashore, I knew him."

"That makes sense. I remember you telling me that your brothers weren't so reliable when it came to running errands or doing chores..."

"Right, one time Dadan sent all three of us out to deliver three bags of cookies to three different people. I came back an hour later and Dadan sent me out to see where Ace and Luffy were. I knew the routes they were supposed to take, but that didn't mean they took them. It took me three hours to find Luffy in the middle of the forest. His cookie bag was empty and he was talking to a crocodile. I wanted to scold him, but Luffy being Luffy, he just laughed and introduced me to his croco-friend. He explained that he had shared the cookies with the crocodile and they were now nakama and he wanted to take the crocodile home with him.

"Luffy really is a very kind person."

"He is, but I have to warn you. Don't mention bugs or food in any way. He can talk about it until your ears fall off," Sabo said, laughing softly.

"Got it!" I chuckled. "Where did you find Ace that day?"

"Oh, remember I told you Ace had narcolepsy? He passed out in the middle of the road. When Luffy and I arrived, we were lucky. There was already a blond doctor talking to him and treating the scratches on his face and knees while they sat next to each other on the sidewalk. We gave him the cookies to thank him and returned to Dadan. The scolding we got when we got home was terrible, though." Sabo cringed at the memory, but kept a smile on his face.

"What about Luffy's crocodile friend?"

"Luffy was devastated and sad that Dadan refused to let him take the crocodile home. But Santa Claus gave him a crocodile stuffed animal for Christmas, and whenever we went to the forest, we stopped at the pond so Luffy could meet his friend. He also brought him a snack every time."    Sabo told you many more stories on your trip, and they helped you a lot. There wasn't a story where something funny didn't happen, so you both laughed your fears away. The hours passed quickly and soon you stopped in the driveway of a shabbily decorated house. It fit in well with the stories Sabo used to tell you. You looked over at him and his gaze lingered on the house. A warm smile spread across Sabo's face, one that you only get to see a handful of times a year, and his eyes had that sentimental touch that you get when fond memories are playing in your head. And in that moment, you knew you would do anything to keep that smile on his face. Even swallow your fears and meet his brothers.

All content unless otherwise stated belongs to: ©strawheart-pirate. Please do not copy / modify / translate / repost my writing, banners or art on other platforms. Comments, reblogs or likes are highly appreciated! Snowflake banner by ©firefly-graphics

#one piece #revolutionary sabo #sabo x reader #sabo x you #gn reader #fan fiction #sfw #strawheart-pirate.events #strawheart-pirate.christmas countdown 2023 #strawheart-pirate.writing

[quaranmine]

The Incandescence of a Dying Light (Chapter Eight)

July, fireworks, and some insight into someone we don’t actually know much about.

Chapter Eight: 5,436

<< Chapter Seven | Masterpost | Chapter Nine >>

HEY Y'ALL! Those of you who follow me on tumblr have been kept pretty well apprised of this chapter's progress, but it's good to be back. I've struggled with this chapter a lot, not out of any fault of its own, just because real life decided to beat me over the head in July and August.

Anyway, this chapter has a few content warnings.  CW for past injury, car accident, death, and as always…grief. Nothing graphic but it beat me over the head while I was writing it oof.

Finally, as a disclaimer—there is information in this chapter about wildfire survival. I’m not an expert, and some of these topics are quite literally life or death in real life. I’m an entry level environmental scientist whose only professional experience is in topics entirely unrelated to this. While I have done my research on this fic and done my best to always present accurate information, I am not a reliable source. This is a Hermitcraft AU fanfiction. Please do not take or substitute anything I say in place of information from actual professionals, lol.

“I felt like lying down by the side of the trail and remembering it all. The woods do that to you, they always look familiar, long lost, like the face of a long-dead relative, like an old dream, like a piece of forgotten song drifting across the water, most of all like golden eternities of past childhood or past manhood and all the living and the dying and the heartbreak that went on a million years ago and the clouds as they pass overhead seem to testify (by their own lonesome familiarity) to this feeling.”

Jack Kerouac, The Dharma Bums

»»———-　　———-««

July 1989

It’s July, and there’s a complete burn ban put in place for Shoshone and the other national parks and national forests that surround it. If you ask Scar, it should have been put into place two weeks ago. The scattered storms and rain in May and early June has done nothing for the landscape now, which is dry and still full of theoretical tinder from years of fire-suppression activities. 

It’s July, and it’s sweltering outside. The main radio chatter during the daily weather conditions report says the temperatures have been record-breaking in the region. This is unsurprising to Grian—his cabin feels like less of a lookout and more of a greenhouse these days, with the inescapable sun taking great advantage of all the windows. He’s not really cut out for the heat of the summer. It makes the days feel listless and blend together, but at least it cools off in the evenings.

The fire season starts to ramp up in other ways too. There’s a fire reported in the Bridger-Teton National Forest, located immediately to their southwest, and officials seem concerned it will grow quickly with the hot, dry temperatures and wind. Elsewhere around the country the picture seems just as bleak: fires in the 1989 season have already burned hundreds of thousands more acres than the same time period in 1988. 

Apparently, the Two Forks lookout had gone unstaffed for several years prior, before the Yellowstone fires last year caused the agency to consider hiring more staff. The fires last year also, coincidentally, increased the budget for this year’s activities.This seems to have been a prudent decision, because the season is shaping up to have a spark indeed. They’re keen to use Grian as much as possible. 

Grian can’t see the smoke column from the Bridger-Teton fire on the horizon; it’s too far away. Instead he starts to notice that his visibility on the horizon is worse now, as the haze in the sky slowly grows. Distant mountains that were once brown and green are now wispy tones of flat yellow and gray. The Trout Fire still burns steadily in the distance. It’s a stubborn nuisance to the Forest personnel, but not a big enough fire yet to garner any worry. There’s more than enough worry to be passed elsewhere.

All of this would be enough on its own, but another contender has just stepped into the ring: Independence Day. 

The 4th of July is on a Tuesday this year, which means Grian and Scar get the wonderful privilege of working overtime all weekend watching the mountains, and holiday pay for the day itself. In all likelihood, people will be just as likely to celebrate on Saturday or Sunday or Monday as on Tuesday. Mary, a lookout in a more northern section of the Forest, has already called in to report a few incidents in her sector. The extra pay is welcomed; the responsibility for idiots is not. 

Fireworks are strictly banned, of course. The acknowledgement of that, however, requires campers to actually care in the first place. They do not. 

And so the month begins. 

»»———-　　———-««

Fire is, both philosophically and literally, one of the most important things humanity has ever been able to harness. It can be the difference between life and death, and yet it is both life and death. Fire fosters warmth and light and power and life. Fire caresses life and leaves behind destruction. 

Shoshone National Forest exists as part of the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem, one of the largest mostly-intact temperate-zone ecosystems in the world. It’s part of a great chain of protected lands and wilderness spaces in the northern Rocky mountains. Shoshone is the second piece of that puzzle—just as Yellowstone National Park was the first national park to be established, the neighboring Shoshone National Forest was the first ever national forest to be designated in the United States.

It is also, like the other lands in the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem, fire-dependent. Plants and animals living in such ecosystems are often adapted to their local fire regime, which is the expected pattern, frequency, and intensity of the fires in their area. 

Lodgepole pines dominate the middle elevations of the Shoshone National Forest, and are the poster child of a fire-dependent species. These trees produce cones that are sealed with a tight resin that relies on fire to melt it. Fire is, therefore, essential to the reproduction of the species. But fire is also essential to their life cycle in another way: just as fire is necessary for the baby trees to sprout, lodgepole pines are very easily killed by fire.

And if the fires kill the weaker Engelmann spruce found in Shoshone’s higher elevations, that’s okay too—it just leaves room for the much more tolerant whitebark pine trees to grow without being outcompeted. Fire similarly benefits wildlife in Shoshone by diversifying the forest understory, encouraging growth of new plants, and providing dead tree snags for shelter. 

It kills, but it also supports life. 

The history of Shoshone National Forest and fire has its bleak moments. In 1937, a lightning strike started the Blackwater Fire in the Absaroka Range, a range of mountains located predominantly in the national forest. Dry weather and high winds turned the fire into one of the deadliest wildland firefighting stories in American history, with 15 firefighters killed and 38 injured. 

Labor laws are written in blood. Safety rules and best management practices are, too. Although no fault was assigned for the tragedy—a rigorous investigation deemed the situation was out of anybody’s control—the Blackwater Fire would ultimately change the landscape of wildland firefighting. It is remembered in the Ten Standard Firefighting Orders, a set of systematic guidelines developed by the US Forest Service afterward to reduce danger for firefighters.

These orders are still in use today. 

So what is a lookout’s role in a wildfire, other than keeping watch for it? Historically fire lookouts were used as firefighters themselves—expected to hop on a horse and head straight to a fire after seeing it, tools in hard—but in modern times lookouts are primarily used for providing updates. A lookout’s job is not complete once a fire is spotted and reported. They are expected to provide constant updates on its size and location, as well as assist firefighters and smokejumpers from their position. This work is very important—so important that sometimes fire lookouts don’t evacuate the scene until a helicopter is required for their rescue. 

And what if you’re a hiker? What if you’re on the ground? The prospects aren't good: hikers should just avoid being caught around a wildfire at all costs. Survival odds are, unfortunately, low. 

But what if you can't avoid it?

Try to determine which way the wind is blowing and remain upwind of the fire. Fires also burn fastest uphill, so seek lower ground. Fires will burn cooler and slower downhill. Try to find a safe spot from the fire, something that would burn less easily such as a rock slide, a large meadow, or a lake. Crown fires burn tall and hot in the tops of trees, so even a meadow will be safer than a forest. Cover your nose and mouth with clothing to protect your airways. Huddle close to any large object that can buffer the ambient heat. Lay face down. Don’t attempt to outrun the fire. 

Sometimes, setting your own fire is an option. Burning out an area large enough for you to lie in can allow the wildfire to move around the already burned spot—but this attempt is best saved for a grassland. Forests take too long to burn. And if the fire is close, and if you can see a safe, already burned spot through it, and if the flames are less than five feet tall, the best option might be to just run through the fire. 

Jumping in water is an option, but that might not save you. Superheated air, smoke inhalation, and lack of oxygen in the area is a primary concern. Fires move faster than most people can imagine. Fires can create their own wind, their own weather.

Fire, above all, should always be respected.

»»———-　　———-««

“Draw something for me,” Scar says suddenly into the still blue air of the dusk. “And, dude, turn your light on already.”

“Huh?” Grian says. He frankly doesn’t mind sitting in the dark while there’s still a little light left in the sky to adjust to, but his hand reaches automatically for the lantern’s switch before he even really processes Scar’s words. With a soft click the cabin is bathed in warm tones. Really, the reflections on the windows only obscure their visibility now that it’s mostly dark, but it’s undeniably more cozy now. 

“Ah, it’s good to see your little light in the way over yonder,” Scar says. “You’re like my little firefly in the mountains!”

Grian rolls his eyes at that. “What did you mean by ‘draw for me’?” he asks, blocking any spontaneous attempts at poetry Scar can make. 

“I mean, I’m bored. And I know you’re bored. It’s been a long day.” He hums a little to himself. “Figured you might wanna do something to pass the time.”

Scar’s right, it has been a long day. It’s the 4th of July, and they’re in it for the long haul. Grian thinks they should have just been allowed to sleep and clock in later in the day—who sets off fireworks at 8 AM?—but the fire season doesn’t rest and neither do they. Now, it’s evening, and this is where the real monitoring begins: after dark. 

Unfortunately, it’s also when the morale to keep sitting at the desk is starting to dip precipitously. Firewatching after dark is difficult and typically something they aren’t required to do. As a lookout, he primarily looks for smoke, not fire. Fires themselves are often too small or too tucked away for their light to be seen, and at night the smoke blends into the dark sky. But fireworks, fortunately, tend to announce themselves gaudily. 

Mostly, it’s the sheer personal resolve to pay attention that takes the greatest hit. Scar’s idea isn’t a bad one, there’s just one significant snag:

“I don’t draw,” Grian reminds him gently.

“But you used to,” Scar persists. 

“I drew houses,” Grian corrects, even though he knows that his drafting is far from the only thing he’s practiced over the years. “For work. It’s not the same.”

“Well, then draw your lookout,” Scar says and then seems to almost cut off his own thought with a—”Ooh, maybe draw mine instead!”

“I can’t do that.”  It’s a black and white statement of fact, but Scar doesn’t agree. 

“C’mon,” he says. “You definitely brought your materials with you, I know it.”

“You don’t have any way of knowing that.”

“You have to have a pencil and a notebook, right? How do you take your notes for the morning reports?” Scar says this in the sort of way where he knows he’s right. He says it playfully, like it’s a silly mistake right under Grian’s nose. 

“Okay, fine,” Grian says, trying to imbue an eye-roll into his words. “I get it.”

He’s not really sure why he picks up the yellow legal pad from the corner of the table, or the pencil in the cup. He tears the top sheet off where he had, in fact, scribbled some notes earlier about temperature and wind speed.

The thing is, Scar can’t even see him. He could lie to Scar and say sure, of course, I’ll do it, and Scar would be none the wiser, miles away on the horizon. 

He picks up the pencil. The notebook stares back, blank except for the faint lines. 

He does try to draw his lookout first, from memory. He thinks of it the way he always does in memory—a snapshot, perfectly clear image his mind took one day. In his mind's eye, the lookout starts to rise over the horizon in the late afternoon sun while he hikes up the hill towards it. He doesn’t have a ruler in the tower, so he carefully uses the spine of one of the old paperbacks as a straight edge to run his pencil against. 

It just…doesn’t look right. First of all, angles are off. He’s messed up the two point perspective somehow and he doesn’t have his usual drafting materials with him anymore. But it’s more than that. The lookout, despite being bathed in golden light in his visual memory, just doesn’t feel inviting. It’s just intimidating. A place where, despite its natural beauty, Grian just sees his worst days play out over and over again. 

He crumbles the paper again and tosses it to the side. He grabs the radio again. 

“Scar, you paint don’t you?” Grian says. “You’re an artist.”

“Well, I guess if you say so,” says Scar slyly, “one could refer to me as a bit of an artist.” 

“Why?”

The bluntness throws Scar. “Huh?”

“Why do you do it?”

“Why am I an artist?”

“Yeah. What made you start?”

Scar is quiet for a long time. Not too long to be worrying, but enough to seem…contemplative. He finally replies, “You know, I always liked it. In school I’d always get recruited to help with posters and stuff ‘cause I was one of the better ones at art, which maybe said more about them than me because I wasn’t an artist then. I didn’t practice. I didn’t know anything.”

There’s another pause, but not as long. Grian doesn’t interrupt. 

“It wasn’t really until after my accident that I started pursuing it more. It was somethin’ to do! And one of the nurses told me it might be meditative. Help me out a little.”

“Did it?” Grian asks softly. 

“I think so,” Scar says, and then with a little bit of a chuckle he adds: “But I don’t think I have to tell you though that sometimes a drawing frustrates you so much you want to throw it across the room! It isn’t all meditation. But I think that’s the point.”

Grian flushes a little. Scar’s comment is truer than he knows; the crumpled evidence of his most recent drawing attempt still sits on the floor by his chair. He reaches for the pencil again, and looks at the page once more. Maybe he will try to draw Scar’s lookout. He won’t tell that to Scar, of course, because he’ll be insufferable about it, but maybe he’ll try. 

Grian doesn’t really know exactly what Scar’s lookout looks like. It’s far away, and he’s looked at it in the binoculars a few times, but the details are always fuzzy and hard to make out; each shake of his hand jolts the image at that level of magnification. And it’s far too dark for him to look again, so—so he improvises. Scar’s cabin is not on a tower like Grian’s is. It's situated on a large piece of rock at the top of a mountain. It doesn’t need to be on a tower, because there’s nothing around it tall enough to block the view, unlike the trees next to his tower. He fills in the details as he remembers, and creates new ones in the place of things he forgot. 

The soft scratch-scratch of the pencil is lost to the noise of the radio again. “I broke my arm pretty badly at the time—needed surgery on that—but it wasn’t my dominant hand so I still painted. I like doing landscapes, mostly,” Scar says. “Pretty things. I grew up in nature. My dad and I went camping a lot. I missed it. I…wanted to do that again. Didn’t know if I would do that again.”

“I would love to see one of your paintings,” Grian says. 

“I don’t really think they’re worth getting excited for,” Scar says, doing a bit of regrettably predictable artist’s humility. “But I’ll mail you one, if you want. Oh! Maybe you’ll even get a little surprise. Jellie likes to help me sign a few pieces, whether I want her to or not…”

The idea of a painting signed with a paw print is so utterly charming to Grian that he almost suggests that Scar should do it with all his paintings as some sort of signature flair. Then it occurs to him that it might be hard to wash a cat’s paws, and starts to ask Scar about what he does—in his cabin in the middle of nowhere with no running water—when a sparkle catches the corner of his eye. 

Grian whips his head around just in time to see the sparks die. “Ugh,” he radios. “I just saw a firework. Super far away though.”

“Well, I was surprised neither of us had seen anything yet. Go ahead and mark the general direction of it even if it’s out of your district. Hopefully if there’s a fire someone else closer will catch it, but you could always check on it in the morning.”

Grian wanders over to the firefinder in the center of the room. Conveniently reminding him of which direction it was, several more fireworks go off in quick succession—golden, blue, red. It’s too dark to take a real reading, so he just points the sight in the general vicinity of the celebrations and takes its azimuth. He’ll spend extra time tomorrow examining this direction. 

As he takes the measurements, a thought drifts into his mind. It’s something about the convergence of this specific job, a job nobody’s ever heard about in a Forest overlooked because of its more popular neighbors, and the wistful quality of Scar’s voice when he spoke about the subjects of his paintings. He found this job advertised in a newspaper. How did Scar find it? Who trained him to do this?

He sits back at the desk, and starts to sketch in the mountains around Scar’s lookout. This, he remembers well. He knows the familiar fold of the hills and peaks like the back of his hand, even after a little more than two months on the job. 

The question circles his mind. 

“Scar,” he says finally. “You know why I came here. To this job. To this National Forest. I’ve…made that really clear, whether I wanted to or not. But I don’t think you’ve ever said why you came.”

“Oh,” Scar says. His voice is quiet. “I guess I haven’t.” 

Grian lays the radio down on the table, giving Scar space to speak. There’s something about the way Scar acknowledged him that sounds like he’s been exposed. One thing Grian has come to learn about him is that he’s a smoothtalker, and an excellent actor. Scar has dramatic flair in spades, and if he really wanted to, he’d spin a captivating tale for Grian about the totally-true events leading up to his place in this forest. It’d be as truthful as his name. 

He doesn’t, though. 

“People come out here for a lot of reasons, but not every person can stick with it. It’s lonely, for sure. And, of course,” he chuckles, “the bugs are pretty bad. I’ll tell you right now, I’ve seen more than a few volunteers and new lookouts suddenly get afraid of the dark when it’s just them and no one else for miles,” Scar says. “But the people who stay tend to fall into two categories.”

“What are they?”

“People who are running from something and people who are looking for something.”

There’s no need to question which category Grian is in. Not when he’s already laid his whole soul open for Scar to pick through and deeply intertwined himself in this mystery. 

There’s only this: “Which one are you?”

“It’s hard to say,” Scar replies. “But I think I was running away.”

And Grian wants to say from what? but he doesn’t. And he wants to be sitting in Scar’s lookout right now, or anywhere but here, but he isn’t. 

He sets the pencil down, temporarily abandoning the drawing he’s been scratching this whole time. He looks straight ahead through the window, but the glare from the lamp on the glass just reflects his own face right back at him. In the shadow where his head is, he can pick out the faint outlines of the hills beyond. 

“You can’t run from yourself though,” Scar says. “‘Cause it just follows you. And being alone with yourself just makes you face it faster. I think my mom was right. She was worried about me. That’s why she made me take Jellie to keep me company.” 

“I think I need to meet this Jellie,” Grian says, because he doesn’t know what else to say. Scar doesn’t typically sound so serious, and it’s a little jarring. “She sounds pretty fantastic.”

“She is, she’s—hey, what about meeting me?”

“Nah, I think I prefer the cat,” he says. Cheeky. 

“Well, I can’t say I don’t agree,” Scar says. He sighs. “I guess I should just talk about it, right? You can ask me whatever you want. ‘Cause the more I ramble, the less I talk about it, and the less I actually answer your question. Which is the fun of rambling! If you say enough words people forget about what you’re distracting them from. Oh, but I don’t know why I’m telling you that. A true salesman never gives up any secrets. I’m only a salesman in the winter, though. What am I selling now? I guess I’m selling myself. Wait—no, not like that, don’t you dare be laughing over there, G-man!”

Grian says nothing, and he isn’t laughing. He just lets Scar’s words fill the space. He doesn’t ask anything else. It feels hypocritical to do so. He’s dying to know everything, of course, but he also knows what it’s like—that looming weight on your neck from the pressure of well-meaning friends who just want to talk when all you want to do is be alone. If Scar has come all the way out here, then he must really have wanted to be alone. 

Scar seems to rattle himself out of it on his own. “I’m stalling again,” he says, voice like lead. “I’ll just start. It’s okay. It’s been 10 years. I’m fine.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Grian says. “I was just curious. You know all this about me but I didn’t know anything about you. But if it’s a…thing then you don’t have to.”

“No, no,” he says. “It’s fine. I already told you a lot of the story. I just left out some pieces.”

“It’s a slow night,” Grian says. “Only a few fireworks. Plenty of time to talk, if you want…or plenty of time to just watch.”

“I appreciate that,” Scar replies. He takes a deep breath. It’s a funny thing, that. Grian can’t see Scar’s face—he has no idea about anything, even what color hair he has—but he knows the sound of Scar’s breathing. 

“I told you about my accident,” Scar begins. “I told you about how it nearly killed me, about the hospital, about taking up painting. And I told you about the way I’m still in pain, even years later. I don’t think it’s ever going to fully go away. But that wasn’t really the whole truth, or the worst part. The worst part was that I wasn’t the only one in the accident.

“I should have been, though. I was the one driving. I was just running an errand, but I was living with my parents at the time so I asked my dad to come with me to help me pick something out. I don’t even remember what it was. And I don’t remember the accident, either. I only know what they told me. I read the accident report. But there’s a wall of glass between me and what happened. Apparently, we hit some black ice in the road and it spun the car into the other lane. We got hit by a truck. It happened so fast. He didn’t know what was coming either.”

Scar pauses there. Grian tries to take in the story. “I’m sorry,” he says. “That sounds terrifying.”

Scar’s voice breaks on the next line. “The doctor told me my dad was dead when the paramedics arrived. They think he probably died instantly. I don’t remember that, though. I don’t remember anything. I just—I just woke up a week later in the ICU. That’s what I remember. Everything was just so fuzzy and hurt so bad. I could tell something was up but I was too tired. I slept. They waited three days and made my mom break the news.”

“Oh, Scar,” Grian says. “I’m so sorry.” But everyone is sorry. They’re always sorry. It doesn’t do anything. So instead he adds, “You must have been so scared. It must have been confusing.”

“It was ten years ago. I’m fine,” Scar repeats, and Grian doesn’t comment on the way it sounds like a lie. Maybe it isn’t a lie on most days of the week, but it certainly is tonight. Scar continues to talk. “I don’t know why that’s what messes me up the most. That I caused it and I don’t remember it. That it’s my fault but I didn’t know for so long.”

“It’s not your fault,” Grian says gently. “It was an accident. That’s what accidents are, they’re not on purpose. So it can’t be your fault.”

“And you’re right, G-man,” Scar says. His voice wavers. “I already know that. It isn’t my fault. I didn’t mean for any of it to happen. I didn’t know about the ice. I know it’s not my fault but…it’s really hard to believe that, isn’t it?”

Grian swallows against a lump in his throat, and flicks his eyes down to the table. It’s the hardest thing in the world, just below staying alive. 

“I just think about everything I could have done differently. Why didn’t I just go alone? Why didn’t I wait until the next day? What if I was driving slower? Would the difference of one mile per hour, or five, or ten have been the difference between life and death? What if I had reacted faster, or better? What if I saved the car from spinning? If I had left just one minute earlier, or five seconds earlier, there might not have been traffic in the oncoming lane. If I had left three hours earlier, maybe the temperature would have still been high enough to keep the ice from refreezing.”

He stops to take a breath. “It doesn’t ever stop. And it doesn’t bring anyone back. The worst is thinking about the things you did and the things you didn’t. Like maybe I would have told him I loved him that morning if I’d known that was the last day I’d see him. Or maybe I wouldn’t have stolen $20 from him and then lied about it when I was 8 years old. Or maybe I would have asked him again to tell me about his funniest story from when he was a teenager. But that’s just how it is, I think. It all comes back to you.”

“How do you deal with it?” Grian whispers. 

“Badly,” Scar says, and for once he doesn’t sound like he’s on the brink of tears. “You go forward. And then backward. And then forward again. You live through it.”

“I don’t think I can.”

“You’re already doing it.” 

“I’m not doing it very good.”

“That’s the only way you can do it.”

There hasn’t been any more fireworks since they started talking. The night outside is dark, with only the slightest sliver of a new moon. Millions of tiny stars glitter in the sky in nearly uninterrupted view. It’s a beautiful night out there, hot and still, but Grian stays in the four walls of his cabin. Enclosed.

Scar speaks. “One of my steps was coming back here. I think, in the end, it was a step forward. This place gives me comfort. I always liked this part of the state. My dad used to take me camping out here all the time, like once a summer. Sometimes we went to Yellowstone National Park. Sometimes we went to Grand Teton National Park. Sometimes we went to Bridger-Teton National Forest. And sometimes we went here. It’s the quietest here.”

“It sounds like you were close with your dad,” Grian says. “It sounds like fun.”

“It was,” Scar says. “My dad was cremated. It was a while before I was out of the hospital, and it was a while before traveling somewhere wasn’t an ordeal. We saved some of his ashes for closer to home, but we made a special trip out here and scattered a little in each spot.”

“That sounds nice…” Grian trails off.  “Like he’s still here, somewhere. In a place he loved. In a place with you.”

“I think I fell a little in love with this place then, in a way I didn’t when I was just a child. Or maybe I was just antsy. I wasn’t doing very good, I guess I can tell you that. There was too much guilt and familiarity at home. I wanted out. I wanted to be anywhere else but there. It took me two years after the accident to make it but I came here.”

“So,” Grian says. “Running from something. I see it.”

“Yeah,” Scar says with a huff of air. “Not that great at running these days though! I mean, I’m barely a hiker anymore without being wiped out for a few days! My mom thought this job was a terrible idea. She thought the last thing I needed was to be alone. I guess you know what that’s like.”

“I didn’t even tell my friends or my mum I was taking this job,” Grian admits. “They’d freak out. The reaction from people I knew back in Colorado was bad enough. So I just sent ‘em a letter the first week I was here. A ranger told me I had mail at the main office but I don’t want to check it.”

“They’ll give it to you at the end of the season if you don’t come pick it up,” Scar says. “You can read it then, after you’ve already done it.”

“Was it what you needed?” Grian asks abruptly. “Being alone.”

“I needed it. I think—sometimes everything in your head makes you want to avoid people. You feel like you need the silence of an empty room to just let it all fall out and fix itself. It helps. But only for a little while, because it never really fixes itself. After a while it just eats you up.”

And Grian wants to say, I think it’s eating me. And he wants to say, I think I am not alone enough, I still need more space, I still need more time. And he wants to say, Everything will be fine, I just need to find him. And he wants to say, I don’t think I would have lasted this summer without you.

“I didn’t have anyone to talk to my first summer as a lookout,” Scar admits. “But you have me. And I think—Grian, I know you think you’re alone, but you aren’t. And I know you think nobody understands, but I do. I’m trying to.”

“Oh,” he says. Oh.

There’s tears suddenly welling up in his eyes, and Grian rapidly tries to blink them away. He sees it in the incessant chatter that had annoyed him on the first week. He sees it in their radio channel, the one just for them to talk on, the secondary channel that ensures the main frequency is always open for real emergencies. Scar’s been cultivating the perfect landing spot for Grian to fall into, before he even knew Grian needed it.

“It’s not actually two different things, is it?” Grian finally responds. “Running away from something, and looking for something.”

And Scar says, “I don’t think it is, in the end.”

<< Chapter Seven | Masterpost | Chapter Nine >>

#hermitcraft #grian #goodtimeswithscar #hermitcraft fanfic #hermitcraft fanfiction #hermitcraft au #hc_firewatch_au #quara fanfic

[magioffire]

(cw for discussions of drugs/drug use)

@ crime/detective fiction writers, urban fantasy writers, writers who want to put fancy made up sci-fi or fantasy drugs into their homebrew world, writers who write characters who use drugs, and people who just need a good resource for  learning about altered states of consciousness, ive got you.

 i recently remembered two sites i used to frequent for researching psychoactive substances, and they continue to be useful, thorough resources to this day. i also have had a few people come to me over the past few months asking for such resources to help with their writing. i feel like i should share them with everyone! most people might not even find these websites in an average google search.

its hard enough being a writer and having a search history full of ....questionable google searches, all for the sake of research of course. the more taboo or specific the information, the harder it is to find reliable and non-biased sources of research. drugs are likely among the most difficult topc to find information on.  where does a person need to go to learn about such things?  make a deal wth an evil dark web wizard in exchange for forbidden drug knowledge???

wouldn't it be nice if you just already knew some free, safe, surface web websites to go to that would take you directly to the information you're looking for, saving you tons of time of scouring search engines for little crumbs of info?. well, your prayers you didnt even know you had have been answered. here you go:

erowid.org

ive used erowid as my go to for reading other peoples personal experiences with pyschoactive substances since i was a teenager. its not just a drug experience archive though, it also hosts plenty of scientific and historical articles (some very old and rare that would be pressed to find freely available in many other places on the internet) about pyschoactive substances and altered states of consciousness of all varieties. another great thing about erowid: it lists the LEGALITY of each substance it catalogues in many dfferent countres. erowid uses legal, academic and community sources  to provide a much more well rounded view of the topics it hosts.

erowid catalogues personal experiences of real life people who have published their experiences to the site (located in erowid’s psychoactive experience vault). people have recorded their experiences using everything from coffee, to lsd, to cocaine, to 5-meo-dmt, to alcohol, to mad honey, to cough syrup.

it is a go to source if you need some insight into the mind of someone recalling the most intense mushrooom trip of their life, or if you are curious if anyone has actually even *tried* that one obscure drug you heard about in a movie once, or you need to know the hour-by-hour subjective effects of a certain drug. theres good experiences, bad experiences, spiritual experience, mundane experences.  i highly recommend erowid for anyone looking for a more organic, personal, and much less clinical AND less criminalized view at the effects of psychoactive substances on minds and cultures.

https://psychonautwiki.org

pyschonautwiki will give you pretty much everything you need to know about every single psychoactive, ever, and its always being updated.

on any given page you will find information like: historical and cultural use of the drug, what drug class it belongs to, the pharmacological make up, common routes of administration, subjective and physiological effects ranked in terms of how frequently they occur and at what doses, what is considered a threshold dose, an average dose, a heavy dose, an overdose, and a lethal dose (all lethal doses are overdoses, but not all overdoses of every drug out there are lethal), and lots of safety info. this site goes very deep into recording the cognitive, sensory, psychological, emotional and physical effects of drugs.

its a super clean, easy to navigate site. i believe its most useful as a resource to writers who want to know how to portray a drug trip or drug abuse accurately down to the last detail -- as every drug creates a unique and entirely subjective effect.  like erowid, this site’s collection of information expands beyond just substances: it also has information on other states of consciousness not induced by substances, including lucid dreaming, meditation, and near-death-experiences.

long gone are the days of portraying your character’s fever dreams or  sci-f space drug trp as a parade of pink dancing elephants (unless, of course, thats exactly what your’e gong for. then by all means). now you dont have to do nearly as much guess work  as to how a specific substance generally effects people, and get more creative ideas for how you can rattle your character’s psyche.

hopefully, these resources might prove helpful to find a no-bullshit attached  resource with minimal anti-drug propaganda, and most importantly credible information about drugs and drug use. so people can research these things without ever actually getting involved in anything dangerous. they are also, obviously, good harm reduction resources, which is the original intention of these sites.

i will continue to add if i find more good safe websites!

disclaimer: these sites are intended to be used for educational and research purposes. do not try anything illegal or dangerous that may be recorded on these websites.

#writing resources #harm reduction #drugs #resources. #this seems like its comng out of the blue but i feel like with quite a few people in the rpc have characters #that use drugs in some shape or form #since lately i realized just how censored and sanitized most search engines have become #cant even find these sites most of the time unless youre looking for them #hopefully someone will find them useful!! #also if you dont like: block dont report thanks lol #drug use cw #long post #ooc.

[leggerefiore]

I really like how you write the twins! And I can’t get over the poly ones, so what if reader was dating like Ingo, but bc the twins don’t mind sharing, what if Ingo persuades reader to try dating Emmet too. Con and fluffy is preferred, but I don’t mind a bit sauce 👀 Keep up the great writing, I will reread the drabbles for now!

con? my brain is small I apologise and spent three minutes trying to figure out how the word 'with' fits in there.

I'm glad to keep writing if people enjoy it :)

cw: poly (Ingo/Reader, Emmet/Reader)

It was a bit of a lazy day, you would admit. Whenever Ingo got days off, it was a natural thing to just spend it relaxing at home. Work kept him busy, and a bit stressed, so seeing him unwind and let time just pass him by was lovely. Currently, he was laid out on the couch watching some old sitcom with his Excadrill pressed into his chest. Chandelure floated nearby him, occasionally letting out soft, happy melodies. The evening sun's light was obscured by drawn curtains. It was finally peaceful. You hummed while ordering some delivery on your phone for dinner.

Moving into the living room, you sat on the floor near the couch. Ingo's attention shifted to you with a slight hum. “Dearest, I would have moved for you,” he readjusted his legs to give you some room, “Please, sit up here. It's wrong to have you on the floor.” You laughed at his nature to be so kind and joined him on the sofa. Settling in, you watched some of the show for a moment before checking your phone to see how the delivery was coming along. Ingo's hand softly combed through the fine fur of his pokemon while a previous thought had entered his mind. He found himself a responsible older brother who dutifully checked in on his younger twin whenever he felt it was reasonable.

Recently, he noted how Emmet seemed a bit quiet. Well, he was always quiet, but somehow he managed to be even more so than usual. He had been a bit distant, too, causing Ingo more concern. If he tried to prod the topic with him, however, Emmet would deny that anything was wrong and accuse Ingo of mother-henning him again. Ingo knew he was not. Being the person he was, he went to the next best person to get Emmet information besides himself, Elesa. She took a long sigh and asked if he really wanted to know. Of course he did! This was something that had even led to him faltering in battles. It almost felt completely out of character for Emmet. Her reply left him in deep contemplation.

Emmet liked you. He liked you in a romantic manner which he knew was wrong as you were happily in a relationship with Ingo. A relationship he supported wholeheartedly, as it made Ingo delighted. He didn't want to end their relationship or cause problems, so he was working on moving past his feelings. Ingo felt horrified. To think Emmet was keeping such troubling things to himself… Ingo felt like he had failed to make himself fully reliable upon by him.

This led to him debating a lot of things. Would it be possible to allow Emmet to date you alongside him? Ingo found he truly did not mind the thought. As twins, it was only natural that they shared. They shared pokemon, clothing, foods, toys, anything growing up. It was normal for them. Sharing a partner surely would not be so different from those situations. Emmet would likely need to be spoken about it, but Ingo had a suspicion that he would agree.

His eyes broke from the television to gaze at you. “… What is your opinion on Emmet?” he asked. You turned to look at him with a curious expression. Tilting your head, you hummed. “He's a bit more playful than you and likes to gossip with Elesa,” you replied, “Overall, he's a pretty nice to hang around.” Ingo nodded. Excadrill groaned when he picked him up and carefully sat him on the floor. “Yes, he is quite energetic. Ah, you know when we were younger he would often tackle me and whine when I wouldn't play wrestle with him…” he trailed off remembering the bites that Emmet would give him in the heat of youthful fighting, “See, he's been lonely as of late, I think. Since I started dating you, my time has been consumed by you. Not that it's a problem! I am quite content with it all.” You tilted your head. Where was he going with this? Ingo sighed and tried to regain his train of thought. “I do believe he would be happier if he had a partner, too. Dating someone could keep his energetic mind happy and distract him from the fact that I no longer can be around all the time,” he continued. You nodded this time.

“Are you asking me if I know anyone that would be up for dating Emmet?” you asked, gently grasping his hand. It was sweet he cared so much for his brother. “Not at all! I simply thought we could perhaps – Possibly, by chance have him, er, date you as well,” Ingo felt the urge to grind his teeth together from the discomfort waging in his mind. You froze. What? “See! He quite likes you and has resisted these feelings out of respect for our relationship, simply put,” Ingo desperately tried to explain his ideas, “Dearest, I looked into it, and the concept of sharing a partner isn't so frowned upon as it could be. You would date both him and me, while we stay brothers, naturally.”

It was absurd and strange, but they way his soft eyes bore into you with a silent plea was hard to deny. Before starting your relationship with Ingo, you would admit that you had considered the idea of dating Emmet. You were friends with both brothers and felt attracted to both of them. (They quite literally looked alike physically.) In the end, however, when weighing the options for a boyfriend, you flipped a coin. Heads was Ingo, and tails was Emmet. It landed on its side somehow, but heads faced you. Ingo was your decision. “Do you think that's alright with you?” you questioned, “Ingo, this would be a very serious change.”  He swallowed and moved closer to you. “My entire life has been shared with Emmet, you realise,” he spoke softly with a small smile on his lips, “He is my closest friend, and I dearly care for him. I truly do not think this would bother me at all.”

You stared at his intense expression with a sigh. A loud knocking at the door ended the serious conversation. Your food! Getting up, the door was opened, and you thanked the deliverer. Ingo crept closely behind you. His chin rested on his hand while you unpacked the take-out. He wanted an answer, it seemed. “You're like a Purrloin right now, I hope you realise,” you joked. He hummed. “I'm fully willing to try since you're comfortable with it, babe,” you replied, sitting his food in front of him. He smiled softly. You stared at him with a slight giggle.

~

“… Ingo, what the ‐” a hand was slapped over Elesa's mouth while Emmet napped on your lap. He was out cold while you softly stroked his hair. Soon after your discussion with Ingo, you both approached Emmet with the offer, who immediately took it without hesitation. He was unafraid of indulging himself when it did not hurt others, it seemed. Your face was littered in kisses while he hugged you close. Ingo stared at the scene with a sigh. It was the exact response he had expected from Emmet, ultimately. He did not mind how his brother seemingly hogged you, but did voice his complaints when he felt denied his proper time.

“So, you, uh, found a solution then?” she asked while taking a seat at the table. “Yes, I do believe it worked out fine,” he replied, “Emmet does demand them at night quite often. I shudder to think what those are two are up to.” Elesa broke into laughter at him. Emmet sighed again as you softly combed through his silky locks. He was happy to be surrounded by people who loved and cared for him, and you were content with your new relationship dynamic. Ingo was a good comforting, loving partner, and Emmet made sure your more intimate life was completely fulfilled. They complimented each other perfectly.

#ingo x reader #emmet x reader #ingo x reader x emmet #ingo/reader #emmet/reader #ingo/reader/emmet

[partyanimal167]

The Informant- Miguel x F!Reader

I'm in a writing mood, so I need to take advantage of this before the call of my bed makes me return to my true form as a simp who stays reading about fictional men. I have no idea how far my plans for this fic go, so we shall see together. Thanks for stopping by! For the sake of this fic, let's say this is the start of the Spider Society, but Miguel is still handling things in Nueva York.

cw: fem reader, mdni, author knows some Spanish, Afro-Caribbean reader in mind

He never planned on things going this way. He just needed to be sure of things and knew that there were those who could stay neutral and be relied on.

Rumors spread quickly, and there wasn't always a way to know what was true and what was falsified. People had their sources, and whether that source was reliable or not could be a matter of life or death. Miguel had a few places to go to, but he wasn't really expecting the answers to be so within his reach.

Miguel was trying his best.

He thought that gathering a bunch of Spiders would make thing easier after realizing how complicated yet connected dimensions were. Yet, wrangling Spiders and keeping things in order was proving to be its own challenge. Nueva York was stable but not free from the villains who lurked in the shadows. As of right now, a man named Kingpin was starting up chaos in the shadows.

Miguel groaned into his coffee as he waited for a test to finish at work. He starting to rethink his life as a scientist if he needed to babysit a bunch of energetic Spiders as well. He shouldn't have been surprised though. Some of them were the only superheroes in their home-universes. It would be a miracle if they quickly adapted to being on a team and coordinating together.

An alarm went off on his phone, and Miguel was grateful that he could actually take a lunch break today. He gulped the remainder of his coffee and tidied up his station.

After discarding his lab coat, he ran down the hall to the elevator and checked his phone. A notification made him grin for once, and people questioned where he was running off to as he dashed through the lobby and out the doors.

Pat's Place sold the best Jamaican food around, and while Miguel stood firmly on his love for empanadas, he did indulge himself with beef patties every time he knew the food cart would be near his job. It saved him the trouble of going to Queens at the main restaurant. The food was amazing, but the added bonus, of course, was seeing you.

Your hair was pulled back with a bandana, and you chatted casually with the patrons when you saw a flash in the corner of your eye. You smiled to yourself as you saw Miguel straighten up his dress shirt and approached the cart as if he hadn't booked it two blocks to get his fix. You stepped away from the register and waved the man over to you--away from the line.

You reached down and pulled out a black plastic bag already filled with his typical order of two spicy beef patties, coco bread, and a cream soda. The man placed a kiss on your cheek and took the bag from your hands. "Mami, you're the best."

You chuckled and winked. "Yeah I know." You leaned forward and tucked a piece of hair behind his ear. "You missed this."

Miguel felt his face warm slightly and scratched the back of his neck. "Ah, I was in a rush."

"Mmhm. I don't know why. I always set your food aside." you commented.

"Yeah, but your grandma's gonna kill me one day if she hears I'm skipping the line. You know how she is about fairness."

You laughed and waved your hand. "I'll worry about old Miss Patricia." You stuffed your hands in your back pockets and rocked on the heels of your feet. "So what's going on in the world of Mr. Big-Time Geneticist? Girls giving you trouble as usual?"

Miguel rolled his eyes as he stuffed his patty into the bread. "Oh please. No one wants to be dealing with me. I got enough on my plate."

"Really?"

You wouldn't know the half of it. Miguel bit into his food and fought his instincts of moaning. "What about you? Miss Pat succeed in setting you up with anyone?"

"Oh jeez, I wish she'd give up. I'm this close to telling her I have a girlfriend if I didn't know she'd switch tactics."

"Are you just now telling me I don't have a chance?"

You smiled as you wiped a crumb from the corner of his cheek. "Oh papi, you always have a chance with me."

Just then, Miguel's phone rung, and he cussed to himself seeing that Peter B was calling. "Sorry, I gotta take this."

"No worries. I'm getting back to work. See you around."

Miguel half-listened as Peter went on about some weird notification popping up about some suspicious activity in the slums. He chewed on his food and let his eyes trail over to you as you continued to work--smiling at customers and giving out change. He hummed to himself.

"Hello!? Peter to Miguel! Are you listening?"

Aye cabron. "Yes, I got it. I'll go confirm some information later on tonight. It's Friday, so I'll have the time."

"Whatever you say, brother. Just be on the look out. If this Kingpin is anything like mine, then you might have some problems."

~~~

Miguel groaned as he leaned against an alley wall. He was making his nightly rounds in the slums to find his usual informers, but if they weren't locked up, then they seemed to nervous to talk...which was weird.

Miguel didn't always wear the mask, so some knew him as a nosey scientist with a knack for trouble if others didn't see Spider-Man. Either way, it never seemed to be a problem before, but Peter's warning may have been true.

Miguel flicked his watch. "Lyla, I need some assistance."

The fashionable woman popped up and stretched while yawning. "What's up? I take it I'm not searching for a lovely lady's favorite perfume?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Come on, it's Friday. I know you got your patty fix." The woman went on while filing her nails.

Miguel groaned. "No, this is not about her. Why are you even bringing this up?"

"I'm just saying bud. You could use some fun. Actually while I have you here, I found something interesting, she-"

"Lyla Lyla, not now. I need to find someone who can tell me about this Kingpin guy. My guys won't say shit, and that's not a good sign." Miguel went on.

The woman pouted before humming for a moment. "Fine. I'll do some digging, but go home. You left the lights on.

"Can't you just turn them off?"

"Yes, but you need to be more careful. Humanity narrowly escaped extinction decades ago. Do better."

...

That Saturday, Miguel found himself in a part of the ghettos that he didn't know well. He kept his guard up of course but became a little more comfortable when he heard the use of Spanish and English interchangeable with a crowd that was more brown and black than European. He memorized the directions Lyla gave him--ending up outside a shady lounge with a bodyguard that had definitely seen some bad days considering the face scars and calloused knuckles.

He watched from the shadows as people came and went sporadically. There were ledges on the adjacent building that allowed him to peer inside the upper levels. Men in suits chatted while girls paraded around in dresses and skirts. Alcohol was involved; cards scattered on the table. It looked like any old hideout and nightly business, but why did Lyla tell him to come here?

Suddenly, the back door opened, and the main floor's music drifted out. A man shook his hips to the reggaton being played while holding his hand out for a woman coming down the stairs. Black lace stilettos clicked against the stone pavement, and a young smooth hand reached out towards the man.

Aye dios mio...

Miguel could only look from his mask as you beamed at the man who pecked your cheek before striding to the end of the alley where a blacked-out SUV waited.

You stood under the dim overhead light holding your elbows before exhaling deeply.

You turned to walk out the other end of the alley but stopped with a gasp when a flash of black and red appeared in front of you.

"Holy fuck!" you held your chest before taking a moment to relax. You couldn't believe your eyes. "Spider-Man?"

What the hell was Miguel thinking? Oh right, he wasn't. He paused suspended upside down before clearing his throat. "Hello..." he trailed off awkwardly.

You blinked for a moment. "Hi...can I help you with something..."

"Actually, yes." Miguel pulled on his web, flipped upright, and landed on his feet. "Are you a...hostess here?"

You crossed your arms and raised your brow. "Are you asking me if I'm a hooker?"

"What! No! I-," Miguel paused and tried to find his bearings. He was so much better at dealing with people...though most of the time those people are strangers and not the patty-lady he has a crush on. Speaking of which, this was probably the third or fourth time he's seen you not in your work uniform. The dress was fitting you really well. He-

"Miguel! Focus!" Lyla helpfully called out.

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose and continued. "No, no. I'll be up front about this. I need some information, and I heard someone here can help me out."

You looked Spider-Man up and down before smiling--a little amused. "Hmm, if someone told you all that, how come they can't tell you what you're looking for?"

Smart girl. "It's not so simple."

You nodded while in thought before reaching into your purse and pulling out a card. You passed it. "I won't make any guarantees, but you're gonna need to find another time to chat. I don't know how many people here would be excited to see their local masked vigilante out at night."

Miguel looked down at the card then up at you. "What about you? What side are you playing in all this?" he thought about the man he saw you with earlier.

You gave him a playful smile and shrugged. "I know things. That's all. That knowledge might have a price, but secrets are too costly."

"Why is that?"

Your eyes flashed a darker emotion. "Because the truth always comes out in the end." You turned to leave.

"Uh wait," you turned to look at him, "it's late. Do you have a ride?"

You chuckled and tilted your head. "Why? Gonna swing me over to your place?"

Miguel groaned internally. You were completely one-uping him tonight. "Well your...friend left you, and it's dark. I want you to get home safe."

You took a few steps back in front of him and placed a chaste kiss on the masked cheek. "Keep fighting crime, and I'll be fine." With that, you walked down the alley's path. When you were on the sidewalk, luck was on your side, and a cab came to pick you up.

Miguel stood there dumbfounded for a moment before shooting a web up and sitting on top of a building. He pulled off his mask and pressed on his wrist. "Oi Lyla, what the hell?"

The woman rolled her eyes as she looked at her own digital phone bored. "I tried to tell you about her last night, but you so rudely interrupted me."

Miguel rubbed a hand across his face. "Okay, but what is she doing around all this? I thought she was just helping her grandma out and living a normal life."

Lyla shrugged. "Not everything is online for me to search. Everyone has secrets."

Miguel thought back to what you said about secrets and sighed to himself. He just hoped that your secrets weren't too pricey after all.

~~~

Okay, I feel like I know where I'm going with this. I do think this is going to be more couple-centric with a good portion of action. Not sure though. I haven't written any action scenes in years.

There will be more! Thanks for reading, and I look forward to what comes next.

Part Two

#spiderman #spiderman across the spiderverse #atsv #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #fem reader #black reader #mine #partyanimal167 #prompt #atsv fanfiction #informant

[locked-tomb-shenanigans]

If you’re still doing prompt, I’d love to see some asexual harrow. I’m also far to asexual and honestly started headcanoning her as ace because I absolutely could not (and honestly still kinda can not?) pick up on any sexual tension in book lol

Fun fact about me and sexual tension: I legitimately keep forgetting it’s a thing that exists. It seems fake to me. I can’t see it. I don’t really understand it, either. Even when reading books where characters actively sleep together on page I’m reading these sexual tension scenes and being like ??? That’s a real thing?

Like good for you guys but i just really do not get it XD

I tend to headcanon Harrow as acespec anyway (usually demisexual) because that just feels right to me, but fully ace Harrow is good too 😌

CW for some internalized aphobia (which is caused less by asexuality as an experience and more by societal expectations sucking and Harrow struggling with her self-worth in general).

I also wanted to lean a lot into a thing I commonly see with allo people writing ace characters, which is them assuming that either 1) ace characters can’t date allo characters or 2) that the allo character must be missing something and seeking sex elsewhere for the relationship to function, and work against both of these depressively common assumptions.

I did admittedly start working on this concept a while ago because of takes like that but this ask kicked my ass about finally finishing it :)

Sorry about this being kind of angsty, anon (though I promise it ends happily), if that’s not what you wanted I can write something else for you!

Majority under the cut again because this got long, I seem to be really bad at writing short things for these prompts, I will have to work on that, lol

Harrow had known she was a lesbian since she’d been a child with an unfortunate crush on the monster woman from a horror movie she should never have watched in the first place.

She wanted to hold her hand. She wanted to stroke her hair. She wanted to kiss her. She was maybe ten at the time, and had never held any particular interest in guys, friendship or otherwise. Girls were objectively pretty.

Where Harrow’s crushes stayed the same, those of her classmates became different as they grew older. They started talking about others having a ‘nice ass’ or ‘great hips’.

They were nonsense words to Harrow. Some people were objectively pretty, but which qualities did an ass have to possess to be ‘nice’? What made hips ‘great’?

The google search Harrow attempted in utmost confusion was inconclusive.

The good researcher that she was, she tried looking at pictures find a reliable measurement for it, try to scale it for herself, but it was useless. People’s hips and butts remained just that, the utterly uninteresting body parts of strangers.

That was when she came across the term ‘asexual’ for the first time.

It was confusing, at first, because Harrow knew she was a lesbian, so how could she not be attracted to anyone?

The good researcher that she was, Harrow did not let this initial confusion deter her from investigating further.

It took a few attempts, but putting the terms ‘asexual’ and ‘lesbian’ together gave her the answer she was looking for.

There it was, written in black letters on white background, logical and easy. There were different types of attraction. Harrow felt romantic attraction, but not sexual attraction. This was not weird, and it was not childish. It was just who she was.

Harrow found the same relief in knowledge that she always did. She was asexual. She was also a lesbian. She was perfectly content with that.

The first real issue with her sexuality came when Harrow fell in love.

Her second, arguably even more unfortunate infatuation was with one ginger idiot with perfect golden eyes.

Harrow had known Gideon since she’d been three years old, but it took until all the way to adulthood before they actually started getting along. And when they did, well… Gideon was kind, and she was brave, and she was handsome, and Harrow fell helplessly in love with her.

Harrow chided herself for even considering this, but from the way Gideon acted, she… almost thought the feelings were reciprocated. Harrow didn’t know what to do with that. She had never been wanted before. Not in any way that mattered. But it couldn’t last. Harrow knew Gideon wasn’t asexual. The fact was, despite Harrow not understanding it beyond procreational purposes, sex was an integral part of most relationships. Even if her feelings were reciprocated, and even if Harrow hadn’t been broken beyond repair in other areas, Gideon would have to give up on something she wanted if she decided to be with Harrow. She wouldn’t be able to fulfill societal expectations on how relationships worked. Worse, perhaps, Harrow wouldn’t be able to make Gideon happy.

So she tried to pull back on Gideon, before their situation inevitably had to end in mutual heartbreak.

…except, Gideon wasn’t the kind of person one could easily remove from their life. When Harrow wrote into the group chat that she wasn’t showing for board game night, Gideon immediately sent her several worried private messages asking if she was feeling okay and if she needed anything.

Harrow left her on read, but only briefly, because it made Gideon feel awful and made her ask if she’d done something wrong, which wasn’t what Harrow had wanted. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I just have a terrible headache, so I’m going to bed early.”

Thirty minutes later, someone threw a package of Advil and a bar of her favorite chocolate through her letter slot, a little sticky note attached saying “Wasn’t sure if you were still awake, otherwise I’d have rung the bell. Feel better soon :)”

Harrow avoided Gideon for two more weeks before Palamedes informed her that Gideon was sick and kept asking for her and Harrow finally admitted to herself that she couldn’t fucking do this.

She spent the rest of the week bothering Gideon with tea and soup and the occasional antifebrile, and on Sunday Gideon asked her to stay for a movie and fell asleep on her shoulder.

It would have been perfect, had Harrow at all known what to do with loving and being loved in return.

The following weekend, Gideon invited her over for dinner. This was something they did frequently, so Harrow thought nothing of it. Except, when she got there, she realized that they weren’t going to order out like they usually did—Gideon had cooked for her.

Dry rice with barely flavored sauce and steamed vegetables. There was something so terrifying and so beautiful about being known almost wholly that Harrow very nearly cried.

The whole meal they spent chatting and laughing and, occasionally, Gideon would make her a compliment, and Harrow would reciprocate, and it all felt so terribly easy.

Harrow tried to ignore the looming feeling that this felt more and more like a date—a date that she wanted to be on, except she hadn’t found the right moment to talk to Gideon about her asexuality yet, and so it would just hurt them both.

She ignored it right until the moment when Gideon walked her back to her apartment and asked if she could kiss her. Fuck.

“There’s something you should know before this goes any further,” she said, turning away from Gideon to inspect the hallway’s hardwood floor.

“Sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” Gideon said sheepishly. “If I completely misread the situation that’s totally embarrassing, but it’s not on you, and if I didn’t misread it but you’re just not ready to kiss me yet, or don’t want to for any other reason, that’s totally cool, too. It’s not… I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to.”

“I haven’t been entirely honest with you,” Harrow admitted, feeling terribly ashamed for leading Gideon on. “I am asexual. Sex-repulsed, specifically. This isn’t something I can compromise on. I understand if that means you no longer wish to kiss me.”

“Oh, is that it?” Gideon sounded weirdly relieved. “Cool. I totally still want to kiss you.”

Harrow blinked, completely taken aback. That was not how she’d imagined this conversation would go. “You don’t have to say that because you don’t want to upset me. I understand perfectly if this is a dealbreaker for you. I know it is for some people. I found myself unable to deny the romantic attraction I harbor for you, but I don’t want you to date me when I’m clearly not enough for you.”

“You are, though. Just you spending time with me is more than enough.” Gideon gently put a hand on Harrow’s jaw. “I know you’re the queen of overthinking things, but trust me when I say that I still want to go out with you just as much. My ideal relationship is someone who holds me when I’m sad and buys me comfort food to cheer me up, even though it’s bad for me, and who falls asleep on my shoulder, and who maybe sets my head straight when I’m being an idiot. You do all of those things. Why would this feel like a loss to me when I have all the rest of you to gain?”

Harrow only almost cried. “I really did make this so much more complicated than it needed to be, didn’t I?”

“You totally did,” Gideon said gently, and kissed her.

#the locked tomb #tlt #Griddlehark #prompt writing #gideon x harrow #harrowhark nonagesimus #Gideon nav #tlt fanfic #Griddlehark fanfic #asexuality #asexual #especially the beginning part is largely based on my own experience with asexuality #the image of Harrow aggressively looking at asses to figure out a system she can use to rate them is endlessly funny to me #asks #anon #eleena’s writing shenanigans #probably gonna post this one on ao3 also

[fabulous-night-translations]

The Pride of HOST - Inorin

CW for implied sexual assault, incest, grooming, and drugging

...

...

...

FLASHBACK

Uncle: I've felt lonely up until now. You can think of me as your real father.

Inorin (young): Okay!

Uncle: I'm happy that such a beautiful child will be my son.

Inorin: (Since I was old enough to remember, I was in a facility. One day, a couple who were distant relatives came and took me in. I thought I was finally going to have the happiness that most people have.)

Uncle: What a beautiful boy you are. Come closer to me. I love you more than anyone else. More than my own child, more than my wife. My angel.

Inorin (young): (gasp)

Uncle: What's wrong with you? Don't run away. I can't live without you anymore.

Inorin: (What I got wasn't love, but forced desire. After that, I ran away from my uncle's house and moved around to many different houses.)

Woman 1: But you don't have to do anything, stay by my side!

Woman 2: I haven't had anyone in so long. You're my doll. All you need to do is look at me.

Man 1: It's okay, I don't want a woman anymore. I'm fine as long as I have you.

Man 2: Do you like him? I trusted you, but you betrayed me!

Inorin: (At first, everyone loved me, but then gradually they started trying to monopolize me, and started fighting over me. It seemed like everyone didn't care about my heart.)

Inorin: (Kuon-san and RYO-san are different.)

Kuon: You broke the glass again, didn't you?

RYO-YA: Don't get so angry. The good thing about Inorin is that you always try your best. Just be careful from tomorrow onwards.

Inorin: (Kuon-san has a harsh tone, but he's actually kind. I know that when I make a mistake, he apologizes to Fräulein behind the scenes and protects me. RYO-san is reliable and cool. If I were born again, I would like to be like that. I met them and got a job as a host. I may be causing trouble for them because I'm still useless, but I want to stay with Kuon-san and RYO-san forever in HIMMEL. That's my only wish.)

END FLASHBACK

???: Who is this beautiful boy? You must be HIMMEL's cute puppy.

Inorin: (gasp) W-w-what's going on? Ah...Kuon-san and RYO-san told me to be careful around strange scouts...

???: Those weird scouts are terrible. I'm on your side, Inorin. There's something I really want to tell you. It seems like Kuon Kamizuki and RYO-YA, who are staying with you, are planning to host something. I happened to hear them talking outside the club after it closed the other day, and they were talking about creating a new paradise and welcoming new angels.

Inorin: C-creating a new paradise? Are they quitting the club and leaving me behind...?

???: That's right.

Inorin: That's terrible! T-that can't happen!

???: I understand that you don't want to believe me, but they've been saying that you make a lot of mistakes and it bothers me. Inorin, they pretend to be kind in front of you, but maybe they don't really mean it. Recently, the two of them have been talking a lot. Weren't they acting strange? For example, he was secretly talking to him while hiding from you...

Inorin: (gasping, unable to form words) T-they were talking about something...this...The night before...

???: Hey, look, I'm sure you have something in mind, but don't worry. I'll prepare a new place for you, so come on, let's eat some candy. This is delicious~.

Inorin: If you're a scout, I'll refuse! I don't even need candy!

???: Well, at least listen to me. These are exceptional conditions, so what are you doing?

Inorin: Fräulein!

???: Hey, hey, did you promise to accompany onee-san? I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm having an important conversation with Inorin-kun right now, so please wait a moment. Are you going to eat candy too? (laughter) This makes me feel really good, onee-san. (slap)

Inorin: Ah-- Fraulein, let's run to the club!

???: I got slapped...I'm so tired. Is he going to be protected by a princess? Tch. What's wrong with this candy? I suppose I'll find another girl to give it to...

(skip)

Inorin: Fräulein...Thank you for helping me earlier. Is that drug-infused candy? I've heard rumors that it's been around lately, but I guess that person is dangerous after all. Kuon-san and RYO-san are here. I didn't think it was a possibility for them to quit and create a new paradise or welcome a new angel, but when I heard that they said that I make a lot of mistakes and get in trouble, for a moment I almost thought that it might be true. I've always been worried that I might be holding them back. Just now, Fraulein helped me out. I did something like that...I'll be disqualified as a host. Yeah, I always want to be helpful to them. (footsteps)

RYO-YA: Inorin-kun, Fräulein, what's going on?

Kuon: Maybe they look shaken up because of that strange scout, I'm guessing.

Inorin: RYO-san, Kuo-san! ...Yeah.

RYO-YA: Well, it's okay if you're okay now. The club will open soon so what's going on?

Kuon: I'll tell you later the truth, but if you believe anything from the scout, I'll punch you. I can't create paradise without you, RYO-YA, and me.

Inorin: Okay! (footsteps as RYO-YA and Kuon walk away)

Inorin: Paradise can't be created without Kuon-san, RYO-san, and me. Fraulein: I've been spoiled by saying I'm disqualified as a host. Even if I make a lot of mistakes, these two still need me. If that's the case, then I have to answer that call. Kuon-san and RYO-san are people who have gone through very difficult experiences. For the sake of those two, I will become even stronger so that I can protect them instead of asking Fräulein to help me. Because I love HIMMEL. Thank you, Fräulein. Can I hold your hand? I swear that someday I'll become a strong man who can protect you. Even if my angel wings become tattered, even if they become pitch black, I'll still continue to protect Fräulein. I'll do my best to be that angel for the rest of my life, so please watch over me. Always by my side. (kiss)

#idol #fabulous night #male idol #inorin #pride of host #drama track

[angxlslasher]

“He drowned in all our sins

He drowned in our mistakes

Fueled by the flood, we pay in blood

The curse of Crystal Lake .”

CW: Mentions/Descriptions of drowning, murder, some cursing, drunk jerk of a boyfriend

“It’s my fault that he’s gone! I wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t quick enough, and I will never forgive myself— let alone forgive them— for that day!”

Meredith “Merry” Ross

Age: 25 Height: 5’4” Occupation: Library Tech

Significant Other: Jason Voorhees

Appearance

FC in edit is Daria Sidorchuk

Physical Description: Merry is white, with pale skin and freckles across the bridge of her nose with a few spreading to her cheeks. Her eyes are a feature she often receives compliments on since they are a deep brown and doe-like. She has an hourglass figure and is a bit on the muscular side since she spent her high school years in Track (running helped clear her mind).

Hair: She has dark auburn hair that falls around mid-back in length. She often wears it braided or pulled into a ponytail with a few loose pieces hanging around her face.

Scars: She has a thin scar through her upper lip from a scuffle she got into with some kids during her stay at Camp Crystal Lake.

Style: She believes in comfort over fashion, so her wardrobe features flannels, baggy graphic tees, a few old pairs of jeans, and her reliable canvas sneakers that she’s had since high school. She also has a beaded bracelet that she and Jason made when they were kids and she never takes it off. On the off chance she feels like dressing differently, she opts for sundresses with flowy skirts (Jason loves these the most because he thinks she looks like a princess).

Personality

When she was younger, she was a bubbly, carefree spirit with a spark of fire that would make itself known when something was important to her. However, after what happened to Jason, she retreated into her mind and became a shell of herself with a pessimistic view that veiled her eyes. She’d argue it’s a “realist” view, though. She’s seen the a lot of the worst in people and very little of the good, so don’t be hurt if she’s not the quickest to open up.

Merry is very much the type of person to be quiet and reserved at first, but once one gets by that rough exterior of hers, she’s a delight to have around. She’s caring, helpful, and a great shoulder to lean on when times get tough. She’s a “mom friend” through and through. Always has snacks, a little first aid kit on hand, and makes homemade soup whenever a friend is sick (would totally take care of them and baby them, no debate— Jason also loves this).

While being friends (and in a relationship) with Jason, she’s learned that she has a fierce protective streak— especially when it comes to meeting new people. She just loves him so much and doesn’t want to see him upset or hurt, so she’s always by his side and showing PDA to remind him that, no matter what anyone can say, she loves him for him.

“He’s down there deep within

We’ve found there’s no escape

You just scratched the surface of the curse of Crystal Lake.”

Meredith’s Story

Meredith Ross grew up with her grandmother near the infamous Camp Crystal Lake, where she would spend her summers exploring the woods and playing with the boy next door— Jason Voorhees. While his mother was hesitant to let the two play (knowing how harsh other children had been in the past when it came to her son’s appearance), she simply could not deny Meredith. The little girl was all sunlight and happiness, with big doe eyes and a smile to melt even the coldest of hearts. Once Jason and Merry were introduced, they became inseparable.

During their time spent together, they learned a lot from one another. Jason would teach her ASL so she could understand him and Merry would teach him what she was learning at school. More often than not, the two could be found in a blanket fort with her reading her favorite book of the week. With how close the pair were, naturally it seemed the best idea to Pamela to extend the invitation to Merry to join Jason for camp during the summer.

If only they knew just how poorly that would turn out.

Merry was there when Jason met his unfortunate demise in the dark waters of Crystal Lake. She remembered how cold the water was when she dove in after him once the other kids let her go. To this day, she could still remember the way it made her bones ache and her breath hitch in her chest…

Getting over the loss of Jason wasn’t easy— hell, even now as an adult, her heart was still heavy. She still had nightmares about that day, just not as frequently as she used to. She also refused to swim after that day, so she still didn’t know how to even though she was older now. College became her sole focus for a while as she studied to be a kindergarten teacher, but when no positions were available at the local school, she opted for working in the library at the school. While it wasn’t what she was aiming for, she did enjoy sorting the books and recommending her favorites to the kids who were looking for a good read.

She lived in a small apartment in town with her boyfriend, Jackson, who seemed nice enough when he wanted to be. When he was in a good mood, she remembered all the reasons why she loved him and was happier than ever. When he was in a sour mood, however, she might as well have been a stranger to him. She pushed through these issues, however, with the thought that all relationships had their ups and downs.

She never had any intention to return to Crystal Lake after what happened, not even when the rumors started about the ‘killer’ that roamed the ground with vengeance in his heart and a machete in hand— the very one that had been used by a camp counselor to kill his mother…

That is, until her grandmother passed away and left everything to her, including the house she grew up in on the outskirts of the camp.

She had a decision to make. Did she go and face the past? Or continue living this facade of a normal life? When she asked her boyfriend, he was incredibly supportive and even suggested she go back, that he’d accompany her to help her with the heavy lifting.

So, she returned to Crystal Lake with her boyfriend to try and bury the past by clearing out her grandmother’s house. What she didn’t anticipate, however, was how strong the nostalgia would be. Each room held memories of her childhood, some shared with Jason, others with her grandmother. She spent the first night back in her old room, in a makeshift blanket fort, curled up and crying as the weight of both losses settled on her shoulders.

“She raised him right and he’ll come out to play

When mother whispers, ‘Thank God it’s Friday’.”

The Reunion

The night had been a complete disaster, all thanks to a remark she’d made.

While Merry went through what was in the living room, deciding what to pack up and take back to the apartment, Jackson did little to offer assistance. Instead, he passed the time with a bottle in hand and an absent look in his eyes. He’d volunteered to join her to help her, hadn’t he?

“You could’ve stayed home.” She said as she looked through an old photo album. When she didn’t get a response, she glanced over her shoulder to see that he’d settled his empty glare on her.

She furrowed her brows. “What? I’m just sayin’-“

That was all it took to start the explosive fight. Furniture had been flipped, glass had been shattered, and ties were severed through the yelling match that practically made the walls shake with their fury. Shouting became shoving, grabbing, smacking, then it ended up with Jackson dragging her back to the one place that hurt her most.

Camp Crystal Lake, specifically the dock where Jason had been shoved into the water.

Anger melted into panic as she tried to fight against his iron grip, pleading with him to let her go. She apologized over and over, promised to do anything for him, but her voice didn’t seem to reach him. He glanced down at her, his eyes icy yet filled with fiery determination.

Before she knew it, she was shoved into the water.

Cold— It was the kind that seeps into one’s bones, marking the marrow with its frigid touch, and causes every muscle to seize into momentary numbness.

Meredith had almost forgotten how cold the unforgiving water of Crystal Lake could get. Yet here she was, flailing around in what seemed to be the endless depths like she had so many years ago. Only difference was that, in the past, she was trying to save someone else. Now? She might as well have been hopelessly alone.

Each time she breached the surface, she begged and pleaded in broken sobs and gasps, but he stood as still as a statue— watching in sadistic amusement as she struggled to stay afloat. He had known she wasn’t a swimmer, and he knew damn well her afflictions when it came to the very lake that would now suck her into the chilled depths.

She wasn’t sure what hurt worse— The water entering her lungs and freezing her stiff, or the betrayal from someone she loved.

Her throat constricted, forcing her into silence as water rushed over her head once more. She didn’t have much time left, and as scary as it was, it was also… reassuring. How ironic to be haunted by her best friend’s death in this very lake for her entire life, only to die the same way, in the same place…?

One last time, she forced herself to the surface. In the man’s place stood a large silhouette, with an oblong shape hanging by its side. Where her boyfriend had gone, she had no clue. But she hoped that maybe, just maybe, the shadow would have a shred of mercy.

Her frigid limbs shot out of the water, reaching for the potential savior, her eyes filled with silent pleas.

Before she sunk into the water one last time, she watched as the figure knelt down and reached for her outstretched hands. As water clouded her vision and her lungs burned, all she could make out was the hockey mask the figure adorned.

“Don’t you know he’ll never be gone for good?

So we’ll never get out of the woods

A machete in one hand and an axe in the other

Steadfast in his mask in the shadow of mother

Ready to resume

You’re all doomed.”

Present Day

Meredith still lives in Camp Crystal Lake in her childhood home with the love of her life, Jason Voorhees. While adjusting to his… ‘occupation’ was a bit of a challenge, she eventually came to terms with it and thought of it as Jason protecting his home from trespassers. After all, the camp had been long shut down and abandoned, with a very clear ‘no trespassing’ sign outside, so the public had been warned not to dare enter.

And it simply wasn’t her business if someone disobeyed all of the signs and blatantly ignored the rumors and tales of the killer that lurked about.

When Jason isn’t hunting down the idiots in camp, he’s back at home with Merry, the only place where he truly feels at ease. It was a challenge to convince Jason to move in with her, but once she saw the cabin he had been living in, she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. So, she managed to convince the gentle giant to move in with her with a little bit of bargaining. It didn’t take much, and the downside was something she could easily look over.

Pamela’s head shrine is in their basement, but she never goes down there anyway, no big deal—

It wasn’t long after Jason moved in that they fell back into their old rhythm from childhood, where they would go in adventures through the woods, make flower crowns when the meadow was in bloom, and they’d often end their nights with her reading to him in a blanket fort (yes, his feet stick out because it’s not big enough). Jason is also insistent on being by her side anytime she goes outside, even if it’s just for a little stroll, for two reasons. One, to keep her safe from potential trespassers. The second reason was to keep her from stepping in any potential traps that he’d set throughout camp. All it took was her being a step and a half away from a bear trap and he was a mess.

They have yet to “tie the knot” since it would be difficult to do so without leaving the camp, but Merry still considers Jason to be her husband. She didn’t a silly marriage ceremony when she already had all she could ever ask for. A cozy home, a beautiful view, and she finally had her best friend back after all these years… Life was truly a dream.

A/N: I did itttt! I finally finished! I didn’t mean for it to be so long, I just love them and I have had this idea in my head for a long time. I hope y’all like her! There’s more to her that I left out for now that I plan on writing separate pieces for. But for now, this is her— Meredith Ross, the lover of Jason Voorhees, who adores her big slashy man with all of her heart😂💖

Tag List: @rottent33th @the-pinstriped-hood @cries-in-latino @kalid-raven

#oc for Jason Voorhees #omg this took a bit #can’t wait to write with her

[crypticjackal13]

this has been on my mind all night, SO here the deal. Mei has been dating the reader for a while now but the thing is since Mei is a dragon descendant, why not make the reader be a phoenix. With wings and I read somewhere that phoenix are always seen together with a dragon in many myth. I just think that would be romantic af. It can be a scenario or oneshot if you want.

Action-Packed (oneshot)

MEI x GN!PHEONIX!READER cw: none that I can think of!

You and Mei weren't the type of couple to get into fights. With each other, I mean. With demons that try to rob your awesome dragon girlfriend of her sick sword? Absolutely!

"You really wanna take the back alleys to get back from the movies tonight? You're nuts." You walked alongside Mei, holding one of her hands and swinging it as you moved along. She laughed, putting her phone in her pocket.

"We'll be fine! And hey, if anything goes wrong, we've got Old Reliable!"

"You named the sword?"

"I mean...I could name my sword! Anyways, what street are we on now?"

She looked around, presumably for landmarks. The area you two were in now was dank, and reeked of cigarette smoke and trash. Truthfully, you had no idea why she wouldn't just get her motorcycle.

"We aren't lost, right?"

"Of course not. Once I know where we are, it'll be smooth sailing," she paused, looking behind her. "Did you hear that?"

You listened for a minute. There it was--whispering, along with muffled footsteps. You looked her in the eyes.

"What should we do?" you whispered at her, not trying to attract any attention.

"SHOW YOURSELVES, COWARDS! WE AREN'T AFRAID OF YOU!" She yelled. Your eyes darted around the space, trying to see movement even though it was dark.

"Not afraid, huh? We can deal with that." a gruff voice approached. behind it came the sound of heavy boots. The figures stepped into what little light there was and revealed themselves. One of them, shorter than the other, had horns that curled around its head similar to a ram. It was wearing a leather jacket with spikes on it. The taller one, a woman, had dark eyes and a knife in her hands. You held onto the sleeve of Mei's jacket in a panic.

"We're not looking for trouble." You said, trying to urge your girlfriend to agree. However, she stood her ground.

"But if trouble comes looking for us..." she brandished her blade. The demons looked at each other, then at the sword.

"Listen, princess, just hand over that sword of yours, and no one gets hurt." the woman got into a defensive stance, with the other demon following suit. If Mei was going to fight, you might as well back her up. You dropped the glamour that made you look human to reveal your scarlet and orange feathers that lined your arms, face, and legs. Burning hot with the fire in your veins.

"Uh...did we prepare for that part?"

"maybe not."

But they ran at you two anyways, and while the woman tried to bring a knife to a sword fight, you took to trying to punch the other one as hard as you could. It blocked your blows surprisingly well, however its aim in trying to hit you was far from good. It tried to grab your arms, however recoiled with a yelp when it felt how hot you were. Taking advantage of this moment, you pressed both your arms to its side. It doubled over in pain, and you then knocked it out with your fists.

In the meantime, Mei was fighting and winning against the woman and her knife. In the light, you could see that there was something on the knife, some kind of liquid. It was almost glow in the dark.

"Mei! There's something on the knife!" You ran at the woman from the side. tackling her, she tried to cut you.

"What is it?!" Mei asked, pulling you toward her as the woman nearly sliced your arm.

"I don't know, but I think we should get out of here!" You stumbled to start running while the woman was still down. Mei followed behind you, and there was a chase as you weaved through the maze of the city. Finally, you came to a dead end. Turning around, you set yourself aflame and leapt in front of your girlfriend to catch the woman.

This demon woman wasn't exactly weak. She struggled in your grip immensely until Mei unleashed her dragon as she helped you to fling her off into the sky. You both watched her disappear and caught your breaths.

"That was the most exciting movie date we've ever been on!" she cheered, hugging you and giving you a kiss on the cheek. You blushed, returning to your human form. Thank goodness you two were fireproof.

"That's one way to put it."

(hope you liked it, I took it in a different direction than regular fluff!)

#lego monkie kid #lmk #lmk mei #lmk mei x reader #long xiaojiao #lego monkie kid x reader