#have each other's housekeys

[charvos]

Very crappy modern-day truthlessage AU sketches I got

[ts1m1kas]

Original Ask: girlyy so can you please write about fighting with jamal and being mad at him and him apologizing and making it up to you because he can't let you go to bed being mad at him 🤭🤭 (anonymous)

Word Count: 510 words

(author's note: another first, never written for musiala before so i hope you love it !!)

Jamal had been in a bad mood all day. He had woken up late, which resulted in him missing the first 15 minutes of his training session. On top of that, his football boots broke, he spilt water down his shirt when refilling his water bottle and lost his housekeys in his car.

So, it was safe to say that Jamal wasn’t the happiest he’d ever been. 

He knocked on the door to the house he shared with his girlfriend, Y/N. She opened the door and when she realised it was Jamal, confusion painted her face.

“Jamal? I thought you took your keys?”

“Well if I had my keys, I wouldn’t have to knock, would I?”

Y/N’s face flushed with embarrassment, “Yeah sorry, that was a silly thing to say. How was training?"

“Since when did you ask so many questions? Can’t you just leave me alone?” Jamal shouted, storming past his girlfriend and up the stairs.

Y/N was left dumbfounded. Jamal had never spoken to Y/N like that before, and she was left confused and hurt. She closed the front door and headed into the living room. Y/N could hear Jamal thudding around upstairs and then the sound of his footsteps descending down the stairs.

He walked over to the fridge and pulled out a drink, aware of Y/N’s watchful eyes on him. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, the sting of Jamal’s previous outburst still lingering on her mind.

“What are we having for dinner?” Jamal asked, closing the fridge.

No response.

“Y/N?”

Still no response.

“Are you mad at me? If I upset you, I'm sorry.”

Silence.

“Fine, ignore me then."

The afternoon passed by, followed by the evening. Y/N headed upstairs and started getting ready to go to sleep. Jamal was already in the bathroom cleaning his teeth when Y/N opened the door. The pair got ready in silence, ignoring each other determinedly. 

As they got into bed, Jamal moved to wrap his arms around Y/N, but she pushed him off.

Realising his mistake, Jamal began to apologise, “Y/N, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that baby, it wasn’t right. My anger isn’t an excuse to treat you badly, and I should’ve apologised sooner. I don’t want to go to bed angry at each other, I’m so sorry."

Y/N turned to face her boyfriend, “It’s okay, we all get angry sometimes.”

“No, it’s not okay, I shouldn’t have shouted, especially not at you.”

“Jamal, baby, it’s fine. I’m not angry anymore, okay? I promise we’re good.”

He breathed a sigh of relief and pulled Y/N close to him.

“I don’t deserve you. You’re incredible. I love you.”

“I love you too Jamal, goodnight baby,” Y/N replied, cuddling further into the warmth of her boyfriend.

The couple laid in silence, the gap the previous argument had caused now patched up with apologies. Jamal pressed one last kiss to Y/N’s forehead before the pair fell fast asleep in each other's arms.

[silvernyxchariot]

I made a few of these, but these will be the last ones before I stop. I had essays planned out for each character and their Pokémon, but I was too lazy to finish them.

Al Haitham the Normal Pokémon gym leader that the town begged to take the position because they wanted to put their dying/fading town on the map. I cannot see that going any other way, because of how lazy he really is. He wouldn’t actively choose to take the title. And people just ignore that in favor of mischaracterizations.

The Eevee is there simply for company. It doesn’t fight nor is it aggressive, but Al Haitham has trained it to fetch his things (small stuff like shoes, headphones, housekeys, and journals). If Eevee is asleep on his stomach, Al Haitham refuses to move. You’re not getting your gym challenge until that Eevee wakes up; and if you forcibly make Eevee wake up, gym leader Al Haitham will just disappear. If you want that badge, you need to respect his (Eevee’s) nap time.

Sawsbuck – I mainly thought of convenience to Al Haitham when choosing Sawsbuck because it changes form depending on the season. It helps him keep track of the time that passes. And since he lives in the forest region of Sumeru, he wouldn’t have a problem with caring for Sawsbuck’s dietary needs or deal with its heat rash (I imagine Sawsbuck to have very sensitive skin.), unless he actively brought it out to the desert.

Delcatty – I was tempted to give Al Haitham a team full of cats. Will they do as he says? Maybe. Will he take care of them and buy them all the expensive cat treats and get them the best veterinary care? Absolutely. Very “childless adult” coded. It’s Pokédex entries state it like to “live an unfettered existence” and “habitually seeks comfortable spots and sleeps there.” So… Al Haitham? Al Haitham. He cannot be bothered to do things unless necessary or to get someone to stop bothering him. Also uses Eevee and Delcatty as pillows when napping outside of his house.

Braviary – Al Haitham’s name in Hebrew literally just means “the young hawk” or “the young eagle.” As much as I’m pushing “Al Haitham is a lazy fucker,” he is willing to put in effort for the people that he cares about. I have not met or heard of a single person, in this case Al Haitham, who would buy 10 cases of wine for another, Kaveh, as an apology in a domestic/verbal dispute. I don’t think Al Haitham would willingly fight someone for his friends, but he’d at least verbally defend them; violence as a last resort because it’s too much effort kind of thing.

One of Braviary’s Pokédex entries, “It's thought that people disturbed their habitats in the past, so Braviary banded together to fight back.” If you disturb Al Haitham, he’s going to 100% snap back at you with his bluntness. It’s not that he’s being mean, other people are actively choosing ignorance; he’s not in your face about it as Dr. Ratio is though.

Blissey – I wanted him to have a tank, because that’s the pattern I see with most Normal type gyms. It’s Pokédex entries left much to be desired, but Blissey can make for a good Sp. Attack tank with a high HP. If I MUST used the Pokédex entries for my reasoning for Al Haitham’s team, I would use the entries from PKMN Brilliant Diamond and PKMN Violet respectively, “This kindhearted Pokémon nurses sick Pokémon to health. It senses feelings of sadness” and “The eggs it lays are filled with happiness. Eating even one bite will bring a smile to anyone.” Although Al Haitham genuinely wants to be left alone and left in peace, he’s not particularly arrogant or greedy. He genuinely wants people to be happy and live peacefully by improving themselves.

Silvally – The Pokémon I chose because of its adaptability. It can change type based on what memory it’s holding, and it’s a Pokémon that requires a high friendship level to evolve from Type: Null. While other trainers choose to be loving and sweet or bond with their Pokémon through the sheer excitement of battle, Silvally seems like a Pokémon that values its trainer’s intellect and bonds with them through observation of their character. Note that I have not seen this Pokémon through the anime or manga nor do I want to; if Silvally was portrayed in a different manner, I’m not going to bother any further.

Pokémon Up for Consideration:

Snorlax and/or Slaking – Both very lazy Pokemon. Very representative of Al Haitham’s laziness. But also, high maintenance for their food cost and overall size. At least the cat Pokemon are somewhat attentive and give back to Al Haitham when he gets them things. I can’t see Snorlax and Slaking doing anything Al Haitham says, which would be more of a pain to him that a few felines running around.

Pidgeot and/or Staraptor – I had to decide between the different bird Pokemon for Al Haitham’s constellation and just his namesake. Braviary fit the bill best.

Castform and/or Ditto – My only thought was “A shape-shifting Pokemon that makes it easy to adjust combat.” But Castform changes with the weather can easily be manipulated if the opponent uses Sunny Day, Sandstorm, Hailstorm, or Raindance. Just because Ditto changes form, that doesn’t guarantee it can beat the Pokémon it copied.

Miltank – I genuinely don’t remember this gym battle in the games, but supposedly other people had difficulties beating Whitney’s (アカネ/Akane) Miltank. So, I was considering this Pokémon as Al Haitham’s tank/defense Pokémon.

Porygon2 – No inherent reason. It just looks nerdy, like Al Haitham’s brain.

Beidou and Fighting type Pokémon

I took into consideration Water type Pokémon or Electric because Beidou’s a pirate with an Electro vision, but I didn’t think either type fit her overall. So, I decided on Fighting type. Beidou is the kind of person who would stabbb 🔪 as a warning.

(Mega Form) Lopunny – Beidou’s signature or star Pokémon. She thought it was a cutie when it was just a little Buneary, but the more Beidou carried her around the more they bonded and the stronger they became together.

Machamp – “It is impossible to defend against punches and chops doled out by its four arms. Its fighting spirit flares up when it faces a tough opponent.” (PKMN Emerald) Stronk boi, can help around the ship, but also be a good combatant on Beidou’s Pokémon team.

Mienshao – “It overwhelms its opponents with continuous attacks and then slowly stores up power before delivering the finishing blow.” (PKMN Ultra Sun) I think Beidou is very much the type of person not to judge someone for their appearance. “Tiny but mighty” always gets a laugh out of her

Poliwrath – Originally, I wanted to do water types because pirate on the high seas, duh. But it just wasn’t enough BEIDOU vibes. Someone confident fighter who doesn’t back down from defending someone she loves. “Poliwrath's highly developed, brawny muscles never grow fatigued, however much it exercises. It is so tirelessly strong, this Pokémon can swim back and forth across the ocean without effort.” (PKMN Ultra Sun/Moon)

Toxicroak – It was just the aesthetic and color combo. I thought Toxicroak would look good with Beidou.

Pokémon Up for Consideration:

Lucario – I was considering Lucario because it’s a staple for any Pokémon team. But I couldn’t particularly see why Beidou should have or why she would want Lucario on her team other than it looks cool.

Urshifu (Rapid Strike Style) – She may not always have her land legs, but you’re not trapped with a bear, a man, or a tiger. You’re trapped with Beidou. This woman took on a sea monster without a vision for several days and nights. I’m sure she can fight Urshifu just fine. But I just didn’t like the aesthetic or Pokémon entries for Beidou.

Wriothesley and Dark type Pokémon

As you can see, Sigewinne got to Wriothesley’s card.

Weavile – At this point, I just got really tired. So, most of my choices were just based on vibes and overall character personality.

Zigzagoon – The Tiny Racoon Pokémon is just there to be cute. Wriothesley yanked it out of the trash when it was a baby, didn’t see the mother or father around, and decided to keep it. The first day at home, in the Fortrss of Meropide, it bit his finger and wouldn’t let go. Ever since then, it has accompanied Wriothesley wherever he goes and hides in his coat. Zigzagoon even has his own playpen in Wriothesley’s office, kind of like an oversized hamster cage.

Pangoro – Wriothesley earned the respect of this Pokémon simply because he was furious and wanted to punch something. “From the slight twitches of its bamboo leaf, it deduces its opponent's movements. It's eager to tussle but kindhearted toward its companions.” (PKMN Moon) If you squint, Wriothesley does look like a panda, just need to make those greys and white pop out more.

Mabosstiff – “This Pokémon can store energy in its large dewlap. Mabosstiff unleashes this energy all at once to blow away enemies.” (PKMN Scarlet)

“Mabosstiff loves playing with children. Though usually gentle, it takes on an intimidating look when protecting its family.” (PKMN Violet)

Mightyena – In keeping a dog theme, I considered Mightyena.

Muk – “While it's unexpectedly quiet and friendly, if it's not fed any trash for a while, it will smash its Trainer's furnishings and eat up the fragments.” (PKMN Moon) In short, Wriothesy STANK. He says this in his voice line for Emilie the perfumer and forensics cleaner, “The Fortress of Meropide doesn't need her services. Yet some things are best preserved the way they are, warts and all, so people don't make the same mistakes twice... I say warts, but yeah. I mean the smell.”

Pokémon Up for Consideration:

Urshifu (Single Strike Style) – I thought it looked cool for Wriothesley, but it’s also another Pokémon he could fist fight when bored.

Absol – If feel like he, too, prefers preventative measures, if you remember The Wingalet from the Archon Quest that he had been building in the Fortress. The Disaster Pokémon seemed like a good fit.

Ayato and Steel type Pokémon

I feel like Ayato would end up being in the Elite Four or something out of nepotism, but he’s still actively a dangerous opponent.

Mawhile – His signature simply because he thinks it would be unexpected and funny.

Empoleon – Ayato and Empoleon have both carried me through their respective games. As my main in Genshin Impact, I felt like Ayato and Empoleon would be a good match. Not only is Empoleon just a regal figure of a Pokémon, but this Pokémon is a “Pillar of Fortitude” in its own right.

Bisharp, Aegislash, Cobalion

Pokémon Up for Consideration:

Steelix, Doublade, Kingambit

[firstsprinces]

Thank you @wordsofhoneydew for the tag! So happy to hear that you’ve been on a writing streak! I hope you’re enjoying it and please give me all the Junora that swimming around in your brain!

I was all set to share some smut from the lumberjack Alex oneshot, but then I was looking through my old documents and found a 1D firefighter au from 2015 I orphaned on ao3, and feel like I could revise it into firstprince??

You can vote for it here, if you’re interested.

I’m sharing a snippet from the one part I edited as a test to see if I can make it work. Hope you enjoy it (or ask that I keep it in 2015 where it belongs!)

“You’re telling me you never had sex in your uniform? Do you know how much sex you’d get?” Alex exclaims like he can’t believe he’s hearing this from Henry.

"The uniforms stay at the station.” Henry says with a shrug, feeling slightly embarrassed at how open Alex is when it came to sex. Sure, they’re both adults, but Henry still likes the idea of having privacy in his life.

“Fine, then bring me to the station so I can fuck you in your uniform in your big fire truck.” Alex shouts, which echoes through his neighborhood.

Henry shakes his head and laughs at Alex.

Like the gentleman he is, Henry walks Alex all the way to his door. He doesn’t think of this as a date and he definitely doesn’t plan on sleeping with Alex tonight.

"Stay with me?" Alex asks when he manages to get his housekeys out from the pocket of his jeans. “I know you don’t pick people up at the bar very well but the whole firefighter thing is definitely a turn on.”

Henry shakes his head, politely declining the offer to hook up with an extremely drunk Alex. It just isn’t worth it to him, even though he wants to spend some more time with Alex. He just wants to get to know the sober version of him first. He’s an interesting and vivacious individual after a couple of drinks, and he can’t help but feel intrigued about how Alex is without the liquid confidence.

“I really am a firefighter.” Henry tells him with a smile.

Alex shakes his head. “No, no, no, you’re too sexy and too perfect looking to be a fireman. You’re like a sex fantasy fireman and I’m definitely okay with that.” He begins to say before he hiccups. 

"Goodnight, Alex.” Henry says, trying to get Alex to close the door and get him to go to sleep. He really needs it.

“Hey, if I set my house on fire, could you put it out without a shirt on? You can still wear the helmet and suspenders.” He continues to joke with Henry, but Henry knows that he’s probably being serious about this.

“You’re ridiculous. Get some sleep and please don’t purposefully set your house on fire just so you can see me again.” Henry says to him, already halfway down the sidewalk.

“But will we see each other again, right, Henry?”

Henry’s teeth sink into his lower lip and he lets out a breath. “I guess we won’t know until we do.” He sends Alex one last hopeful smile before turning his back on him and returning to his car.

Tagging: @onthewaytosomewhere and @priincebutt

[steele-soulmate]

A Girl With No Name, chapter 2, King Peter Steele & Long Lost Princess Daughter OFC, Modern Royalty AU

SUMMARY: When teenaged misfit outcast and street thief Ecatherina “Rose” Harkler accidently meet the nation’s king, Peter Ratajczyk, the powerful ruler identifies the sixteen year old girl as his long lost daughter, who was thought to have died with the rest of his family after a failed assassination attempt on his life. Stripped of her teenaged identity and thrown into a world of pretty dresses, undercutting words and unwanted security, Rose uncovers a plot to murder not only her father in cold blood… but herself as well.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: mentions of childhood abuse (nothing graphic) poor living conditions

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 1262

I jerked awake with a quiet whimper, sweat dotting my forehead and my breaths coming out labored and haggard. The bedroom that I shared with four other girls, all younger than me, felt hot and clammy as I kicked my too thin blanket away and stood from the rickety bed. I hunted for my kicked off socks, finding one on the floor and the other tangled up in the covers of my bed before glancing at the old alarm clock sitting on my too tiny bedside table.

6:57

I touched my locket- the only thing that I had to connect me to a life before the orphanage. Made from tarnished metal and horribly dented to the point where it wouldn’t open, I hadn’t removed it from my neck since a little boy tried to yank it from my neck when I was nine years old. I had slapped him and gotten two days without food for the act, and in the meantime, I had had located a chain that wouldn’t come undone, no matter how hard one yanked and tugged at it.

I scowled as I shed my nightclothes, dressing in tattered jeans, an old sweatshirt in a faded navy blue and converse that were barely held together with peeling duct tape. I grabbed my backpack from underneath my pillow- I had learned very quickly to keep any valuable items well-hidden or else the other kids in the orphanage would take them and destroy them, only ending with me in a dangerous rage.

I thudded down the stairs and out the door, not paying a mind to the orphan keepers, an older couple who worked day and night to provide for the younger kids- but never for myself.

I scowled as I pulled my thin scarf up to cover my face as I stepped out into the snow and cold. I knew that I would stay warm if I kept moving, so I walked, pausing long enough to hitch a ride on a trash truck that was passing by.

I had been found in the snow thirteen years ago, no memory, ears permanently deafened by some unknown trauma. The ugly scars that I had suffered had long since healed messily- I still had silver-like outlines of my old wounds on the side of my face, my neck and chest, and all the way down one arm. I covered them with long sleeves and by draping my wild curls over the parts of me that didn’t wear clothes. I had tried to uncover who I had been before losing my memories, but I was stonewalled and gatekept every time I got up and over a hurtle. Eventually, I just gave up, coming to the sad conclusion that I would never know the story of how I came to be Ecatherina “Rose” Harkler.

The trash truck came to a brief pause before entering the freeway, and I took this as my stop to get off at. I stepped off, breaking out into a brisk run over towards the abandoned apartment complex that I spent most of my free time at.

I flitted over to the back door, pausing before kicking at one of the rocks that created a partway aesthetically pleasing wall. I bent and plucked out a small housekey from within the rock, which I then used to open the backdoor.

I stepped into the tiny apartment complex, which had two cramped housing complexes situated on the bottom floor and two more on the top level. I had made them four homes into my little hideaway- the bottom two a kitchen and a study room and the top two a bedroom and bathroom. Honestly, the apartments were just two rooms and a crappy bathroom each, but I made it work- I used the least disgusting bathrooms to shower in and hung old blackout curtains in all the windows, as not to call other thieves my way.

I stored much of my stuff here- there was no such thing as privacy at the orphanage, so I had to do what I could do. I had added a line to a seedy restaurant over on the next block for power and I heated water on the stove for me to shower and cook meals with.

It wasn’t much, but it was home- my home.

I wandered into my study, turning on the small, dented Wifi router that I had nicked from a Best Buy truck that had parked in front of a diner for a quick meal. I then pull out my laptop computer that I had bought second hand at a pawnshop five years ago and switched it on, settling myself to get started on my homework.

I logged on, my eyes squinting for a brief moment as they adjusted to the bright glare in the otherwise dim room. While that was loading, I headed into the kitchen to make myself a quick bite to eat- a sandwich, some chips, the last of the watermelon that I stole from a passing truck that was overflowing with the delicious fruit, and a bottled water. I took note of the low supply of food in my pantry and made a note to hit up the food pantry after school today.

When I returned to find my computer fully booted up, I quickly got out my binder and flipped through, pulling out a sheaf of paper with my neatly written essay on it. Even though my penmanship was immaculate and looked like an old fashioned typewriter had written it, Mr. Williams still demanded all work to be turned in using New Romans in font size number twelve, doubled spaced and proper punctuation. I would type out my essays, scan them into a thumb drive and then take them to the little library that would print for free on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays between eight AM and two PM.

I sighed as I finished typing out my paper on the view of suicide and death in Shakespeare’s classic love ballad, Romeo and Juliet. I quickly saved a copy on my hard drive and imported a copy over to my flash drive, which I then put onto the desk where I wouldn’t forget it before going into the kitchen to heat up some water for me to quickly wash my hair.

Well, it was time to start today off.

TAGLISTS ARE OPEN/ ASK BOX IS OPEN/ REQUESTS ARE OPEN/ PLOT BUNNIES ARE WELCOMED

If you liked this, then please consider buying me a coffee HERE It only costs $3!!!

PETER STEELE TAGLIST

@rock-a-noodle

@xxgreendruidessxx

@elianafilthyrose

@ch3rry-c0la

@rockstarslutt

@angelxfuckk

[muertarte]

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @amonstrousdream @muertarte

SUMMARY: Leila visits Metzli on a rainy day and the two enjoy a quiet afternoon in bed, making plans for the future.

WARNINGS: None

There was something entirely wonderful about having a housekey. 

Leila hadn’t realized how much a bit of metal attached to a keychain could mean. Hadn’t realized how much having a home meant. She had told herself for years that she didn’t need a house, didn’t need a home. Staying put was a risk she’d avoided taking, and there hadn’t been people she’d cared for to make anyplace a home. That life was lived sneaking into sleepy houses through keyholes to rest at the bedsides of dreamers, never turning a knob and finding comfort and companionship and rest on the other side of the door. Even her shop hadn’t been home, not really… She had told herself early on in her time in Wicked’s Rest that if the worst happened, if she needed to run away, she would simply leave the shop behind. But she hadn’t run. Hadn’t needed to. She’d found people- people like her, people who liked her (or even loved her), people she could help, people who became family. The key was a symbol: she was wanted, she was loved, even if it was hard for her to believe some days.

Since Christmas, all Leila wanted to do at the end of every day (and sometimes in the middle of the day, too) was to drive her puttering, ancient car from the shop in Deersprings all the way to Seven Peaks. To the Mansión Mexicana. To Metzli. That day, she’d given up just after noon. Dark clouds covered the sky, blotting out the little warmth of winter sunshine. But as she hopped up the front steps, she could see the glow of light inside the house, and that alone was enough to shake the chill from her ancient bones. 

She stood for a moment, soaking in the sight before turning her key in the lock and heading inside. “Metz?”  She shrugged off her coat, hanging it by the door before meandering down the hall. “You home?”

The days at MuertArte had gotten easier. Some days had no incident whatsoever, while others ended with burning skin and gritted teeth. Emotions were a tricky thing, Metzli had learned. They had dreamed of experiencing the spectrum of emotion in its entirety for decades, losing hope many times. Holding onto hope, however, they finally had the opportunity to learn what it truly meant to be a person. And it was all thanks to the people they loved and their work at spreading that hope they held for so long. Because hope wasn’t a fickle and delicate thing for Metzli. It wasn’t made of whispers or glass or a spider’s web that any one person could disrupt. 

Hope was the blood on their friend’s hands, the scars on their skin, and the grit of their master’s crypt in their hair. So, it made it feel that much worse to Metzli that they still hadn’t gotten a tight grasp on the control they’d been working on. There were still outbursts, moments of frustration, and countless hours of pacing that ended with a quiet suggestion from Rachel to go. Metzli hated it each time, growing distraught on the drive home before wiggling under their weighted blanket. They were supposed to be a good monster, a model citizen that understood themself enough to keep themself composed. 

As it turns out though, there was an entirely different spectrum Metzli had to understand first. They just didn’t know where on it they had landed, and their window to focus and discover that was slowly closing with the arrival of Leila. They smelled her before they heard her, even smiling wanly as they listened to her walk into the room. Her steps, as always, were light and hardly made a sound. It made it easy to confirm that the presence was definitely Leila. Smell or no smell, Metzli had grown accustomed to her. Her gait was telling enough. 

“Hm?” The vampire sat up slowly, allowing the blanket to drape off of them. “It is early. Did not have expectation for your arrival until a few more hours.” With a deep breath, Metzli shuffled their way to the edge of the bed, planting their elbows on their knees. “Did you close early?”

By the time she made it to their bedroom doorway, they were already shedding the comfort of the weighted blanket she’d made for them. The midnight blues and purples of the night sky above Champlain Falls were now strangely crumpled, as if the fabric sky had broken and folded in on itself. Guilt gnawed at her chest. Interruption. You interrupted. Leila swallowed the thought down, tucked it away to be dealt with later. 

“You don’t need to get up because of me,” She said softly in Spanish. Her new language skills had improved- partially out of spite for the silly green owl who used guilt as a means of persuasion, but mostly because of hope. Leila had held out hope when Metzli had left, even when she didn’t know if they would come back and still want her. She’d held out hope throughout the Jesus ordeal that yes, there would be a time for her to share a language with Metzli. And while there were still moments where she had to pause and think her way from Québécois French, to English, to Spanish, she had definitely gotten better. 

The mare lingered in the doorway, leaning against the frame and letting it hold her up. They were right: she should not be home at that point. The shop had been deathly quiet, the sound of the flederprey in the rafters her only company. Usually, that wouldn’t bother her. It shouldn’t bother her- she’d lived in that sort of silence for centuries before Wicked’s Rest. But for weeks now silence only brought back thoughts of things that had not been dealt with. The presence of another was enough to stifle the things running rampant in her mind. Unfortunately, no one seemed to need a part-vintage-part-costume shop in the middle of the winter. 

“It was quiet, and I finished some alterations that were ordered, so I figured close up early… It looks like it’s going to pour, so maybe that’s what’s keeping everyone tucked away.” A guilty smile crept its way onto her face. “Sorry I interrupted your nap, M’amour.”

There was a soft quiet that always accompanied Leila. Ever since the night the two met. She rambled quite often, laughed frequently, and sang loudly. Sometimes not in tune. But that wasn’t the quiet that Metzli noticed and had grown to adore. The cacophony that stormed through their mind was what she silenced, or rather, oftentimes she replaced the noise with a buzz instead. She brought peace everywhere she went, regardless of the monster she believed herself to be. Maybe she created nightmares to survive, but she made dreams come true as she lived.

“I need to get up—” Metzli licked their lips and gnawed slightly at their bottom lip, rubbing at their face until they saw stars. They made a transition into Leila’s mother tongue, words shaky with a novice hold of the language. “You did not interrupt. I-I…” Failed at being a person again. Despite all of Leila’s help and hard work, Metzli had failed to truly get a good enough hold of her teachings to function like the people they watched. “Had mistakes at work.” They finally managed to say, reverting back to a language they both understood. 

Their eyes stung with tears of frustration, both for their inability to reciprocate the way Leila learned a new language for them, and their inadequacy for existence. Failure, it seemed, was Metzli’s path. That wasn’t what they pictured freedom being. There was supposed to be more success and blood as a treat. Definitely more giraffes, too. 

“Do you…want to join in the bed?” They swallowed and kept their eyes downcast as they blinked the leakage closed to look at their partner. Leila didn’t need to be a tissue, even if she never minded. She offered herself willingly to those she loved, and sometimes to those she didn’t know, too. Her heart bent and stretched toward anyone she could help. Having been covered in night her entire life, Leila desperately wanted to light matches for all, never allowing the fire to be extinguished. It was her nature, and it was everything Metzli loved about her. 

“Let me hold you.” They lifted the blanket, beckoning Leila to it. “Rainy times are better in a bed. With you.”

They were upset. She could hear it in their voice, even if they didn’t look up as they spoke. She was already starting to cross the divide from the doorframe to the edge of the bed as she listened to them switch from language to language. Leila couldn’t imagine what it must be like to have all emotions snatched away for years, only to have them all come back all at once. An avalanche of feeling. Too much all at once. 

Fingers brushed against their shoulder, feather-light, just enough to let them know that she was there. It seemed like work was the source of both of their problems that day. She wished she could make it better, somehow. Wished they didn’t beat themself up for learning how to be after a lifetime of hurt. She knew she couldn’t. All Leila could do was be there, offer her heart, a hand to hold, and all the support she could give. And pray that that was enough. 

“I think I need to join in the bed,” She admitted sheepishly. Bed, blankets, Metzli. When the mortal world was too much, when her own mind was too cruel a place, peace could always be found in those three things. After months of time without the vampire, between their own leaving and their being kept away by Jesus, her heart ached at the mere offer. It might not last… the words hissed in the back of her mind. This might not last, they might go again- everyone goes away, in the end… Leila willed the venomous voice to go away. 

She crawled under the blanket with them without another word. They were right, after all. Rainy days were always better spent in a bed together. Safe from the biting cold of the storm, safe from the dreary outside world. Just the two of them in their own little world. She pressed a quick kiss on the vampire’s shoulder before snuggling in beside them. Safe. Home. The two words repeated themselves over and over in her mind, willing the storm within to go away. 

From the beginning, the sensation of Leila’s skin had been warm. Not just because they were both the same temperature, but because her heart radiated like the sun. Metzli could recall the moment they first touched her, enamored with the loneliness trapped behind her eyes. She had told them they had found her that day, not knowing whether or not Metzli would visit her store. Of course they had, they thought. They had been so determined to visit the shop, awkwardly navigating the interaction and ultimately feeling like they had committed some atrocity when their fingers grazed Leila’s cheek for the first time. Much like the way she had just danced her fingers on their shoulder. Little did both of them know that they had both found something. A gift far greater than either one could have ever imagined. 

“I am happy you are visiting.” Metzli blinked, realizing they had grown silent for too long and wrapped Leila up with their arm. They relished in her warmth and tried not to grow too distracted by it. Again. “There is much pleasure now that troubles are less.” Now their world was about adjustment, slight outbursts, and business strategies. It was exhausting, sure, but Metzli far preferred those stressors than the idea of their life being ripped away by someone they called friend. What they had was much more manageable, even if it felt like it wasn’t most days. With time, as Leila reassured Metzli, they would grow accustomed to life as a person. They just wished they could speed it all up. Not at that moment, though. The vampire was enjoying the mare far too much. 

“You make a very good blanket. It is a favorite.” Sighing contentedly, Metzli bonked their head against Leila’s. Their legs wrapped into hers and they pulled her into them as much as they could, the contact never being close enough. If only they had their other arm, they thought. Leila deserved to be spoiled with some gentle caresses, and while their single arm was long enough to do so as it was wrapped around her, there was too much it couldn’t reach. “Maybe we stay here forever. It will stink after some days, but this can work, yes?” Metzli chuckled, hovering their lips over Leila’s. “Did I tell you yet that I am happy you are visiting?”

It never made sense how one person could make the maelstrom of her mind go quiet within moments. She didn’t know if Metzli knew they were even doing it. But Leila swore that every time she felt herself slipping away into her own head, all it took was a quiet moment with Metzli to bring her back to herself. The first time she’d noticed the phenomenon had been the day they’d been trapped by that cursed hat, when she’d nearly convinced herself that she had trapped two friends in limbo with no way out. 

She chuckled softly as they pulled her closer, bonking their head lightly against her own. “I will make you all the blankets you want… A blanket for every room, if you want it.” There was no world in which Leila would ever tire of being close to Metzli Bernal. She would have lived a million lifetimes over, she decided, if it meant she could always end up wrapped up in Metzli’s embrace, if it meant she could hold them close to her heart. Forever with them- no matter the place- sounded like a paradise. Forever with them meant she would always be home, no matter where in the world they wound up. Forever in the bed, well…

A grin slowly crept onto her face as her fingers toyed with a curl at the nape of their neck. Everything seemed so simple then. There was nothing else outside the room. No gray-cast skies that threatened rain. No work, with all its frustrations. Just the pair of them curled into one another under the blankets. It took every little bit of restraint to keep from pressing her lips to theirs. “I think you might’ve mentioned it…” She teased, brushing her nose against theirs. “Forever sounds good to me, though… We could figure it out.”

Metzli was captivated by the smile curling the corners of Leila’s lips, raising her cheeks into perfect arches. They closed their eyes with a sigh, relishing the moment of peace the two of them could finally have. It was all thanks to Leila’s determination, the love she spilled out into each pull of the flamethrower’s trigger. Gratitude didn’t even begin to cover what Metzli felt, especially when the outpour of love had so many sources. 

With a hum, they opened their eyes and maneuvered Leila into laying atop their chest. The added pressure nearly sent them rolling their wrists, but instead inspired a hidden smile that Leila would manage to find. “Forever.” Metzli parroted with an arch to their brow, an idea blooming slowly. The idea of eternity was only ever tied to mortality or a reign of terror. Never once did they stop to think of what new possibilities they had (and really, what the both of them had) now that they were free to explore all the things humans experienced. Things like pivotal stages of life. Things that Metzli, even as a human, got to have. The idea seemed so far-fetched before, and it still did then, but even so, they couldn’t help but grow hopeful with tears in their eyes.

“Forever.” They repeated once more, nearly allowing their mind to slip to their tongue. “We have this now, yes?” A trembled smile graced Metzli’s lips and they tilted their head in question. “We can do this. We have peace. We…” They trailed in their musings, unsure where they would be led. “We can be people. I-I want to be people with you.” A pause. A cautious one. “Everyday.” Another pause, and their brows scrunched together as they nodded and relaxed the tension a moment later. “Yes. Everyday.”

There had been a period of time where Leila had viewed immortality as a curse. Infinity stretched out before her, promising her nothing but a constant need to hide, to run. Immortality was a punishment, though she’d never figured out what her crime had been. But the mare had begun to wonder if fate had stuck its hand in the middle of her human life and meddled just enough that she might live to get to Wicked’s Rest. If there was such a thing as fate or destiny, then maybe Leila Beaulieu had needed to die in order to live. 

Pressed against Metzli’s chest, it seemed easy enough to believe. Factual, almost. Forever. Metzli was her echo, the word piercing the peaceful silence that had lulled over them like a blanket. She looked up through her lashes, trying to study every inch of their face to determine what was going on inside their mind. Forever meant something to people like them. Until the world caved in, until the stars fell out of the heavens, until the sun set in the east and rose in the west. She’d never thought to wonder if the vampire wanted forever. But there was a smile hiding on the corner of their mouth. Leila saw it, the upturn of their lips that most people would never find. It was a fragile thing, trembling as Metzli repeated the word once more. Forever. 

They had forever, if they wanted it. And Leila had never wanted anything more. 

Tears welled up in her eyes, turning Metzli into a colorful blur. She tried to blink them away, but the glittering things persisted, rolling down her face as she placed a kiss just over the vampire’s heart. “I want to be people with you, too…” 

The vampire swallowed, overcome with so many emotions they didn’t understand and couldn’t possibly manage without help. Leila’s kiss did wonders to quell the marching and biting ants all throughout Metzli’s skin, but it did little to stop their entire body from tensing. Taking a few deep breaths, just like Leila had taught them, Metzli let their muscles settle and felt themself sink pleasantly into the bed. The sheets were still cool and the softness was perfect enough to keep Metzli’s focus until the discomfort of existing in a prison of their own flesh, receded. 

It allowed for the idea to slip past their lips, as scary and new as it was. 

“We can find a good dress for you. And you can pick my suit.” A tingling in Metzli’s wrist soared, causing them to roll them furiously with glee. Maybe a little anxiety, too. “And rings. We need rings!” Was it too fast, though? They wondered, but only for a split second. Metzli had lived over a century, had seen the many faces of humanity and evil, and everything in between. Nothing and no one had quieted the cacophony of noise or lifted the weight quite like Leila. The choice was easy to make, if Metzli could even call it that. If they were alive, choosing Leila would be like breathing. Inherent and inevitable. Necessary and natural. 

Metzli smiled with a sigh, drumming their fingers excitedly on Leila’s arm. “And then forever, yes?” They knew the answer would be yes. It always had been, even in the beginning, but now Leila would be saying it for all the right reasons. She would no longer have to associate such a momentous occasion to a transaction for status and business. She would no longer have to be afraid. 

She would be loved. 

It took a moment for Metzli’s words to register in her mind. She’d settled back in to enjoy the nearness of them. Nowhere else in the world had that sort of peace. Leila could have traveled a million more years and would have never found a place that felt more like home than wrapped up in Metzli’s embrace. It felt like her thoughts were a few seconds behind, lazy with contentment. A dress for what? She had lots of dresses, made a lot of them, too…

And then, it clicked.

Leila looked up once more, surprise etching all of her features. Had she heard them right? Had they said rings? The only experience she’d ever had of a proposal had been fairly grim as modern standards were concerned. She’d been all but told she’d no choice in the matter all those years ago. And she’d been too scared and too weak to fight it… After so many years of being alone, some dark little corner of her soul had convinced herself that there would never be someone who wanted her- wanted her as she was, despite the flaws… maybe even because of them. Hope of a happy ending had been buried for so long, she had convinced herself she would never deserve it. Metzli had changed that all, even if they didn’t know it. They had brought color back into the mare’s world. Vibrant, rich, wonderful color. It wasn’t unending existence anymore. Not just shadows, not eternal night. They had brought her back to life, little by little. 

They chose her. And she would choose them, every time. 

She felt tingles running up her spine, up her arms with every little tap of the vampire’s fingers on her arm. Lightning-struck. Love-struck. Maybe they were the same thing. The corners of her eyes crinkled with joy as she leaned in to kiss them once, twice, almost a third before she remembered she’d not spoken an answer aloud. Her answer couldn’t solely live inside her head. Leila’s head felt fuzzy as she babbled out a reply, drunk with glee.

“Yes- then forever… now forever, but then forever, too-” 

Leila, always so happy to lay with her partner, didn’t seem to catch what exactly Metzli was saying. Not for a few moments. Thoughts of rejection nearly slipped into their mind, but they halted them just as quickly as they arrived. This was Leila they were talking to. A woman so unsure of herself, of her place in the world and everyone’s lives. A woman that put everyone above herself, and gave as much love as she took. There was always an imbalance, tilting away from her favor. Something she did on purpose so as to not make herself known, conforming to the shadows even before she began consuming in them. Metzli knew all of this, and waited in that split second, their smile growing when realization touched Leila’s eyes and her lips met theirs repeatedly. 

That was a yes, and she confirmed it hastily, to which Metzli had to reply in earnest. “Forever.” The golden word of the hour, a promise so heavy yet so wonderfully light to state, and they had declared it readily after having their worlds turned upside down and inside out respectively, for centuries. They’d even faced uncertainty head on, never doubting that their love would persist through the darkness. Because it was their home, and though they did welcome in the light, it came in waves, in the form of glittering skies that calmed the masses. That calmed them. 

“Te amo,” The vampire smiled tearfully, switching languages a little easier that time. “Je vous aime. Pour toujours.” Metzli had had forever since they were turned, but never did it feel so welcoming or easy, or exciting. With a happy chuckle and a gentle hand to their partner’s check, they closed the very short distance between theirs and Leila’s lips, binding their promise further. Sinking it so deeply in Leila’s skin that she could feel the golden warmth spread from themself to her, and so she couldn’t doubt her place in Metzli’s life. 

“Forever.”

She’d never thought someone would want her forever. Forever, as so many had mused, was an awfully long time. So much could happen in something so vast, so infinite. It was strange to think that someone would want to promise that to Leila. The mare had watched love from afar for so long, it felt like the sort of thing that only happened in story books. And she was the monster. The nightmare. The thing that ought not win in the end of the story, the one that never got a happy ending. Metzli saw her as something beautiful, though. Saw what she was, but saw who she was, too, and loved her for it all. The vampire took the love she gave them, and returned it back tenfold. 

They kissed her, and she knew that home was not a place. Home was not a room in a house, or the back of a shop. Home was wherever Metzli was. Home was in their kisses, in the way it felt to be in their presence, in the sound of their voice, in that secret smile, in every little inch of them. Once, so long ago she’d almost forgotten, she’d made a wish for that sort of love. Asked the moon in the sky, her constant companion for hundreds of years, to send her someone. It seemed to her that the wish had finally been granted. 

Forever was a long time, but she had wanted forever for this. And she would wait forever all over again, if it brought Leila back to Metzli. 

“Para siempre.”

[romancenights]

"Happy birthday, Vi!" here she comes, carrying what appears to be two trays filled with a dozen different pastries each. When she went to pick them up from the bakery, they all looked pretty inviting.. so she thought why not take one of each type? "Do you have anything planned for today? If so, you can count me in. If you don't.. count me in anyways."

⋆ @starfaite in every dark world they find each other!

❝Sweet fuckin' circuits, you scared me—I forgot I gave you a housekey.❞ Virote damn near spilled his martini on his script and horrendously organized mess of notes��just a little something for next week's episode of ' Look ReVIew. ' He was redlining what he wanted changed, bluelining what he really, really liked. Usually, despite being not-very-birth-date-festive, he didn't work during his birthday; but, he sat under the burning fluorescence of two desk lights, a pack of pens sat on the corner. Jazz music on a nearby turntable. Hand-rolled cigarettes. Alcohol—what you'd expect from the ambience of an anxious person poring over the next show. There was always something to worry about. Didn't want Tenna disappointed.

So, he was tired. Deflated, as usual. That didn't matter, though.

He shut the script, pushed his chair back, and hustled over to Layla ( very, very happy to see her, by the way. despite looking half-dead. ) ❝I was just getting some work done before my deadline.❞ Saying that made him feel like a loser. ❝Do you wanna... Watch a movie and stuff our faces? I have this cool, Italian horror film from the 80s. I haven't watched it, yet. But, like, the cover was neat. Suckered me right in. Lemme get my wine coolers out of the refrigerator. They're blueberry! Got 'em from the convenience store the other day.❞

[altbettygo]

Iron Butterfly

Chapter 2: Paradise Lost

The album effort was finally winding down and the boys were restless. They’d spent months operating as a pack, at first for survival, for Will’s survival, and then then sort of an unspoken commitment to fuse their energies until the album was perfect. The synergy was glorious, really. They could feel and understand each other to their cores. They wouldn’t have needed to talk at all to hear each other, but of course they did, because they love to talk. They were chattier than a ladies quilting circle.

In the final months of the project they found themselves separating in the evenings, breaking off and doing their doing their own things. Not every night, but more often. Mark was the most independent.

--- *** ---

Mark fished through his satchel and retrieved his housekeys. “Heading out,” he announced, and dropped the satchel in the corner. The bag thing was a signal to the rest of the boys not to follow. They knew of course, because they knew everything, that it meant Mark was heading one of his sanctuaries, a club or a bar, and needed to fly solo.

There was a little circuit of bars Mark liked to go to when he was alone. Places where his black jeans and tee-shirt were wallpaper. Places where the music was loud and rich and rattled his soul. Places where he could reacquaint himself with the parts of his being that were so very not Lovejoy. It wasn’t rebellion, just grounding. Sometimes he danced, sometimes he just drank and soaked in the atmosphere.

Tonight he did both. He made his way to a dimly lit sign that read “Paradise Lost,” and skipped down a half flight of stairs to the basement. He pulled opened the heavy metal door and felt a wave of relief. A sanctuary.

He was on top of the world today. His drum game was at it’s peak. He shouldn’t let himself feel this proud, even on the inside, but damn. It felt so good to be this fucking good. He was almost embarrassed that he felt so proud, but then too proud to be embarrassed. He went directly to the bar, ordered a few catch-up shots, and washed them down with practiced ease. Two more for good measure.

Mark wove through the mass of dark-clothed goths and began to dance. The music was pounding and he gave himself over to it. The liquor was working. The music was working. Mark felt free. Fuck. This is so fucking good.

Dancing, feeling, dressed in black from head to toe, Mark was a sight to behold. He smiled broadly as a girl came up behind him and wrapped her arms low and loose around his hips. She had bracelets and black fingernails and she felt like heaven. She danced seductively, making just enough contact to make Mark's body buzz. Mark didn't need to see her to get everything he needed from this. Turned on by the girl and even by himself, Mark basked in it and rode the wave.

--- *** ---

Will had also been going out alone. But differently. He’d been finding quiet spaces and trying to make meaning of everything around him. His eyes were open, his heart was bare, and he just wanted to start again with all of it. After the humiliation, and after the despair, Will found a sort of peace. There was nothing left to lose. He’d almost convinced himself that it was all for the best, that in the trauma the scales had fallen from his eyes and he had seen the truth of the world.

After the peace, though, a cynicism was creeping in. Will’s eyes, opened and naked, were maturing in this new clarity, and he could see the injustice again. He didn’t feel like a victim or a villain; just resigned to a new position. Peaceful and angry. Hopeful and angry. The anger was the quiet part, very quiet, at odds with the rest but still undeniably present. Will understood that it was part of him now and he needed to make room for it.

He sat that night on a quiet stone bench. Okay, so it wasn't a stone bench, but more of a happenstance low block of concrete along the side of a building, but Will tended to romanticize things. We was feeling melancholy for lack of a better word. There wasn't a word yet for 'at peace, with a hint of anger.' Will watched a pair of goth kids passing by with a mix of annoyance and jealousy. There they were, acting like they'd seen things. There they were, caricatures of themselves, trying desperately to make sure no one mistook them for happy. But there they were, having found a way pull that anger out of their hearts. There they were, not afraid to outwardly express an anger they didn't deserve to feel.

Will watched as they turned the corner out of his field of view and shoved it all down again. Spoiled brat, he thought, unsure if he meant himself or the baby-goths.

[that-bitttch]

Some Sterek thoughts I like

As requested by my awesome ride or die bestie mutual @that-grunge-fae here are some Sterek bits that I enjoy! Let me know if you want more!

They get together just after the Nogitsune. After months/years of pining and ST that you could cut with a knife, Derek finally snaps after realising just how close he had come to losing Stiles for good, the pain that came with somebody else wearing his skin.

Contrary to popular belief, Stiles makes the first move. In the summer whilst looking for Erica and Boys (whom stay alive and well in my head because I love them), he starts spending more time with Derek, bringing games and food and bullying Derek into actually living somewhere other than the ruins of his house. He does it knowingly and with the grudging support of his father.

Saying that, the Sheriff is not stupid. He knows there is more than meets the eye, and he also knows he would not be able to stop Stiles if he tried. He knew he would have to wait for Stiles to come to him. With that said, he also knows that Derek is a good kid, and a kid he is, he can remember how he was in the Before. He never believed Derek would do those things, and does not say a word when he gets reports of his son spending inordinate amounts of time with him.

In fact, the Sheriff is the one who starts off the Packwide bet, much to the horror of Scott.

He and Melissa both bet correctly, saying it would happen after Stiles is faced with unimaginable danger and certain death, within the year.

Scott says it will never happen at all in his denial

Lydia and Boyd get the closest after the parents, also saying within the year, but without the specifics

Erica bets within a moth for all of the tension between the two, Isaac says two years, and Jackson just ignores them all, but agrees with Erica. The pack just;; avoid Peter and discussing it with him

Stiles makes Derek get so flustered. Pet names and casual affection galore. Sweethearts and Darling and Babe. Brushing a hand along his back, his hands. Resting a chin over his shoulder. It amuses the Pack to a great extent.

Derek is more of a silent affectionate type. Gift giving is his love language. Repairing the Jeep, finding magical tomes, sending Stiles random article links he thinks he will enjoy.

There is no big or little spoon, because Stiles just flops. Everywhere. They are always entangled and sprawled out.

They can both cook, Derek from years on the hiding from Hunters with Laura, and Stiles from after his mother's death, and it is a major sore spot for both of them, but it doesn't mean they don't enjoy doing it. They surprise each other with homemade lunches and dinner dates. Derek even makes the Sheriff some heart healthy, but still delicious, meals he can enjoy at the station because he has more free time, and wants both of the Stilinski men to be happy.

Stiles slipped a house key onto the Camaro keys one day, without saying anything, and Derek doesn't notice until Stiles locks himself out of the house one day and calls. Derek will deny being emotional about it, even more so when the Sheriff calls him Son and welcomes him home every time.

Derek doesn't get a chance to give Stiles a housekey, purely for the fact Stiles went ahead and made copies of every important key in Beacon Hills for himself, but Derek does give him a key to the Camaro, which is even more emotional.

[shespeaksinsongs]

Backseat (Pt.1) | Draco, Pansy, & Blaise x Reader

A/N: Love poly's and love you. Enjoy! <3

Summary: Y/N has to entertain her older brother Theo's friends, Draco, Pansy, and Blaise, despite hating them for their constant teasing about her younger age.

Warnings/content: Smut (fingering, oral sex - female-receiving, nipple play, clit play, hickeys?), babying (sort of dumbification), subspace, mommy and daddy kinks, a little fluff

Word count: 2.09k words

"Theo, your friends are here." Y/N said lazily, reshuffling her tarot cards as she ignored the profusely restless knocking on the front door.

"I'm not ready yet; open the door for them!" Theo shouted, his voice echoing down the creaky stairwell that led up to their rooms.

Y/N groaned out loud, rolling her eyes. "What, but I don't even-"

"Entertain them!" He replied absently, busy looking for an outfit that would show everyone up.

Y/N huffed in annoyance but unwillingly got up from the dining table and opened the door, her eyelids half shut to further prove that she was uninterested in being her brother's hostess.

They always treated her like a child, despite her being only nine months younger than her brother.

"Hey, doll." A tall, black-haired Slytherin by the name of Pansy said, letting herself in.

"Pansy." Y/N said, eyeing her up and down, irritated with their presence. "Draco, Blaise." She looked at each one of them. "What are you three doing here, again?"

"Party, little one." Blaise said, patting Y/N's head, which she scrunched her face up at.

"You were invited, weren't you?" Draco asked tauntingly, tilting his head to the side.

"She's not old enough to drink yet, remember, Draco?" Pansy fake pouted, making her way over to where Y/N was scowling, her arms folded over her chest defensively.

"I'm going upstairs." Y/N said flatly, gathering her cards and crystal ball.

"Not so fast, precious." Draco said, stopping her steps by wrapping his two large hands around Y/N's waist, almost enveloping it whole. "Would you mind showing us where the wine cooler is?"

Y/N almost scoffed before she turned around and answered. "We live in quite possibly one of the worst neighborhoods of America, and you think we have a wine cooler?"

"No need to get snappy, angel, just wondering." Draco said, letting go of Y/N.

"Right." She rolled her eyes, just then realizing how close she was to him at that moment. "I'll be upstairs."

"Wait!" Blaise exclaimed a little too loudly. Y/N sighed a deep breath, remembering her earlier promise to her brother that she'd behave with the guests. "Do you have any candles?"

Y/N looked down at him, confused from the third step of the stairs, raising her brow. "Candles? Bit romantic for a party with hard drugs and alcohol, don't you think?" She laughed a bit, biting back the smile that wanted to creep on her face when she saw Blaise laugh back up at her.

"Forgive them," Pansy said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "they're trying to find ways to occupy you longer."

"Figured that much." Y/N quipped back, ignoring a warm feeling that was spreading from her fingertips to her toes.

"You're quite cocky today, princess." Draco said, approaching her elevated status in the room. "Why the sudden switch?"

"Not feeling chatty today." Y/N said, raising her eyebrows and flashing an obviously fake smile.

"Y/N!" Theo bellowed down the stairs, probably still getting ready.

"What?" Y/N answered back, switching her gaze from Pansy to Blaise to Draco.

Theo cleared his throat before answering. "I have an important package coming today, and it's supposed to have-"

"I'll check!" She yelled eagerly, happy to get some quiet time away from her brother and his pushy friends. "Sorry, gotta go." She shrugged, putting on her jacket and plucking the housekeys off the key-rack mounted on the door over the peephole.

"We'll come with." Pansy mused, linking her arm with Y/N's, Blaise beating Draco to her other side, which he growled lowly at.

Y/N rolled her eyes, not answering. As they exited the house, Draco put his hand on Y/N's shoulder and tenderly rubbed it.

"Why don't you let us drive you there, sweetie?" He asked, using the pet name condescendingly as he, Pansy, and Blaise always did.

"I like the walk." Y/N answered, ignoring the looks of frustration she was etching upon all their faces, despite their attempts to keep it cool.

"Always a Gryffindor." Draco shook his head, shoving a bothered Blaise out the way to walk Y/N to the car. "You don't like people doing things for you, do you?" He asked, opening the car door for her.

Y/N didn't respond and instead glared at Pansy for putting her seatbelt on for her and squeezing her cheeks as one would do to a baby. She babbled gibberish to her, kissing her cheek before disappearing off to get into the car. Y/N ignored the blush she felt coming on.

"She's getting so big, Draco." Blaise said, getting in the backseat of the car to sit next to Y/N. "Gonna outgrow her booster seat." He added, caressing her face with the back of his hand as Y/N mulled over scratching his eyes out with her bare hands.

Draco nodded in agreement, reversing out of the driveway, observing Y/N through the rearview mirror as often as he could.

Halfway through the three-minute drive, Draco began quietly singing a popular nursery rhyme. "Round and round, round and round, the wheels on the bus go round and round."

"All day long." Blaise finished along with Pansy, who was smiling devilishly to herself.

"Would you kindly shut the fuck up?" Y/N burst, her teeth almost grinding against each other.

"Ask nicely, dove." Blaise said, and before Y/N could fire back, his lips were on hers, melting away her frustration with the three. "So hot-headed." He muttered against her warm mouth, which was, unfortunately, aching for him.

Y/N moaned at the way his hand fit perfectly around her neck and how he was applying just the right amount of pressure. Just when she was about to start kissing him back, Blaise pulled away, causing Y/N to whimper, frowning at the loss of contact.

"Look at her. Our baby's so needy." Pansy cooed, getting into the backseat and getting on her knees behind the driver's spot, where Draco was putting the car in park.

"I'm not a baby!" Y/N said, although the whine she said it with only further proved Pansy's point.

"Yes, you are, little one." Draco said, opening the back door and getting on her other side, so he and Blaise were sandwiching her. "Look at you drooling, practically begging to suck on something."

Y/N frowned, refusing to enter subspace. But the more she refused, the more she slipped into the most blissful state of mind she'd ever been in.

"Let us take care of you, baby." Pansy said, prying Y/N's legs open while she looked to Blaise, who was holding her hand next to her. Y/N looked at him worriedly, shaking her head slightly and muttering tiny "no's" under her breath.

"Do what Mommy says, love, don't wanna be a bad girl, do you?" Blaise asked, peppering passionate yet delicate kisses along her jawline down to her collarbone.

"N-no." Y/N said, finally under their control. "Wanna be a good girl."

"That's it, let Mommy and Daddies take care of you." Draco said, helping Y/N take off her clothes, starting with her skirt and panties.

"Such a pretty cunt, angel." Pansy groaned against her thighs, it already dripping for them. The vibrations of Pansy's warm breath sent sparks through Y/N's body, causing her to arch her back at the almost painful throbbing and the thoughts of what they could do to her.

"Want Mommy to eat you out, dove?" Blaise asked, eyeing Draco carefully as he took off Y/N's bra, kneading her supple breasts, which caused her moans to get caught in the air. "Not a scratch." He mouthed to Draco, who nodded, agreeing to Blaise's command.

"Y-yes." Y/N swallowed, lubricating her throat that had become dry from panting so much from desire.

"Say the magic word." Draco said in a sing-songy voice, attaching his lips to her buds and circling his tongue around. He kneaded the other breast with his free hand, cold rings only turning her on more, as the rest of her skin was hot.

"Agh!" Y/N moaned out, her eyes almost shutting closed. "Please, please, Pansy!"

"Ah, ah, ah," Pansy said, swatting her weeping cunt with her cold fingers.

"M-mommy, please, I need you." Y/N corrected herself, not caring how stupid or pathetic she sounded, begging for her tongue.

Pansy let out a bored sigh, trilling her lips slightly. "If you insist." She said before attaching her mouth to her clit, wasting no time sucking as hard as possible.

This drew moans from Y/N that she didn't even know she had in her. Tension was building up inside her, and she wasn't sure if she'd be able to take it - a few minutes more, and she'd cave for sure.

As if a sign from the heavens above, Blaise continued sucking on all of Y/N's sweet spots (leaving as many hickeys as possible) and gently asked, "Is she close?" to Pansy, who was busy destroying Y/N's pussy with her mouth.

"Let's see." She muttered, entering two fingers at once into Y/N, moaning when she felt how tight she'd gotten. If I had a dick... She thought, pounding her fingers in and out of Y/N's small hole slowly, teasing her.

Y/N bucked her hips, whimpering and moaning at Draco and Blaise's gestures on her body. "Please go faster, Mommy."

"Your hole is so small, angel. I'm afraid I'll break you." Pansy fake pouted, now going even slower, causing Y/N's eyes to form tears as she felt her high slipping away.

"Please, Mommy, I can handle it." Y/N whined again, trying her best to focus on the swirl of Draco's tongue and the pit in her stomach that formed at Blaise sucking her soft skin.

"Fine, but only because you look so cute like this." Pansy said, pulling her waist out a little so she could get an even better angle. "So tight, baby. Bet you'll feel so good for your Daddies." She said, using her other hand to circle Y/N's clit in a spot that had her seeing stars.

"Gonna cum, gorgeous?" Draco whispered, making Y/N shudder with delight as he rolled her nipple between his two fingers.

"Y-yes! Please let me cum, Daddy!" Y/N half-laughed and half-moaned, making all three of them more aroused than ever.

Draco looked up at Blaise, who was occasionally slapping her thighs when she closed them around Pansy's face a little too much. Then, with a nod from both the blond and Pansy, Blaise spoke against behind her ear. "You can cum, doll."

Within a second, Y/N unraveled, feeling her whole world change before her eyes. Pansy, now moving her tongue up and down on her clit in a motion Y/N had never been able to replicate on herself before, laughed almost diabolically as Blaise let Y/N's head fall back on his shoulder.

"Did so good for us, baby." Draco said once Y/N had calmed down, kissing her cheek and forehead while Blaise kissed the opposite cheek simultaneously, making Y/N squeal.

"Tasted so good, too." Pansy said sweetly, wiping the cum off her lips to kiss Y/N square on the lips.

As Draco began cleaning her sensitive cunt with his jacket, Y/N frowned. "W-wait, what about you guys?" Y/N asked, feeling herself come back, but not ready to let go of the unconditional trust she held for the three at that moment.

"Your brother's probably wondering where we are, baby." Draco answered, caressing her cheek tenderly, kissing away the sad look on her face. "There'll be more time for us at the party, I promise." He said, nodding as an additional form of reassurance, watching as Y/N's eyebrows curled upwards, her eyes fighting tears.

"Okay, Daddy." She gave in, kicking her feet up on the backseat to lay down on his laps while Pansy stroked her hair lovingly, admiring her figure. Surprisingly, in the midst of all this, Draco, Theo's most disliked friend by Y/N, became her favorite of the three.

"It's not Daddy anymore, dove." Blaise said, grabbing a blanket from the trunk and laying it on the two. "It's Draco."

The three watched, fascinated, as Y/N went through mental warfare with herself, unsure what they were to her anymore. "Dray?" She asked, looking up at Draco, who had the kindest look in his eyes.

"Yes, darling, that works." He laughed softly, bending down to give her another kiss on the forehead.

"Let's drive you home, shall we?" Pansy asked reluctantly, holding Y/N's hand, not yet ready to let go.

"Okay." Y/N whispered, her eyes shutting closed as Blaise dressed her carefully, Draco still rhythmically petting her hair.

To be continued...

-

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[cowboyjen68]

Hi Jen, and hello every butch reading this. I need your help.

I don't know where to begin, this has veen a problem for me for almost a decade now. I've followed you (Jen) for a few years now, and you're a very comforting figure to my brain, so I was hoping you and possibly others could help me out a bit. If not answers, then some good advice, open mindedness, patience, and possibly links to resources and helpful places. I've wanted to reach out to older butches and such about my issues with gender for a while, because I've flipped between a few and always have my mind coming back to butch in some form or another. Whether I act on it between each circle back or not, it stays.

I came out as some flavor of trans around 13, and then moved towards binary FtM around 14 or 15, which is when I met my first partner ever. I've had a ton of jumps back to being just kind of butch but in a weird middle butch state of not lesbian, not ftm, not anything but butch. I grew up in the midwest for 10 years (starting at 10,) and came out as a lesbian at 11 or 12. Regardless of how I was identifying in highschool, I was bullied and catcalled as a lesbian my whole childhood, seen as a d/ke, called it, I got the worst of it all, had girls try to kick my ass and dudes try to "turn me." I hung out with the fem cishet alt girls half my height and half my weight, carried them around, I was the ugly tall bitch that protected them. Had a wicked shaved head, wearing mens clothes handmedown, mens boots, brought a swiss army knife everywhere and my own wallet and housekeys. Getting pencils thrown at my head, smoking weed in the girls room, forced to change in the gender neutral stall for gym cause the school didnt know what to do with me. Guys would honk as they went past and shout dyke at me, so I started trying to blend in with highlighter shirts and jeans etc. Typical midwestern shit. I feel that despite now living as a man, i had the lived experience since a very young age (even before moving to the midwest,) of a butch. I am now fully living life as a cis man, stealth, and dating an amazing queer trans dude whose possibly genderfluid, and also very fem. He also identified as a lesbian for a long time and experienced a lot of toxicity there, and was nonbinary in his past, and I met him when he was agender and queer. He's amazing, I'm going to marry him, and he's everything I love in a partner. Feminine, went to cosmetology school, pretty nails, chubby, likes to bake and shop and wants to cook me steak, wants me to carry his stuff and his groceries, calls me his scary dog privleges, wants to scratch my sideshave. He realized he was trans and came out after we met, and I've been his biggest support against everything else, and I always will be. I love him, I'm attracted to him and he's the only person i ever have been. So I dont think I qualify anymore as a butch, despite using the term and being a butch for so many years. I was a butch, I still feel it even if I'm not really into many people at all including women (also on the aro/ace spectrum haha), but now I'm a man, I have a beard, I have a boyfriend I will never leave, who knows how I feel and loves me and we both know no matter where we end up gender wise or sexuality wise that pretty much me and him are it, and if it contradicts, who gives a shit, yknow?

My dating history has always been feminine nbs, feminine trans boys, and femme lesbians. I have never dated a masculine cis man, masculine nb, anyone masculine at all. For lack of better terms due to my situation, I have always been butxh4femme and at least masc4fem. I have always been the guardian and gentle giant of my fem partners, I also am mostly a stone butch due to sexual trauma and asexuality. Due to my aroace-ness, I've also hardly dated literally anyone lmao! Maybe 3 people longterm and seriously in my entire 21 years. This is getting really long, and I'll be honest, I've been yelled out of all communities I've been in for being so damn complicated. I'm scared I'll hurt mt partner and he'll feel I don't see him as he is, I'm scared I'll hurt lesbians despite living and growing as one most of my life, I'm scared I'll hurt me by identifying as butch because I feel like I'll have to detransition. I also kinda look fuck ugly without a beard nowadays, cause lord knows I've shaved that shit fullon twice now because of this exact issue.

I want to be called sir, and I love being on T. I hate getting a period, and my bottom dysphoria is agonizing, but I probably wont get bottom surgery. I want to not be catcalled. I want to get top surgery eventually, and maybe I don't want a full beard. I wanna cut all the sleeves off my shirts again and get some sexy workboots and jeans. I know I want my pretty femboy boyfriend on my arm forever, I don't care how he ends up identifying or me either, and to see him wear his dress on our wedding day. I want to be butch but still be seen as a man, but I don't think I'm allowed because so many people have shit on me for it and said I'm not. But I still wear my keys on my belt. I still lift the heavy shit, emotionally or physically, every day for him. I still do my role, I still protect the people around me. But I don't want people to look at me when I say butch and assume me or my boy are women, out of respect for him and me too.

Advice needed, please, anybody that's willing to help me and help me find my path. It's been so back and fourth so long. Thank you.

- R

i am sorry for taking so long. Fall is a very busy season with all my jobs ramping up and getting ready for winter on the homestead.

Your writing was a lot to absorb and I admit I read it several times and had to come back because it weighed on my emotions and heart heavily. I was driving tractor last night so I had lot of thinking time. I went over in my head how you much feel, how I could possibly answer this with any coherant advice or even just some comforting words.

You are only 21, my advice if you were my child (i have 3--25 year olds, a 22 year old and a 16 yo), would be to slow your roll. 3 serious relationships by 21 is a lot. At a time when we are sort of socially and mentally programmed to be free and using our energy to exlplore our individuality you were putting efforts into maintaining viable relationships with other people who were probably also trying to figure themselves out. I was 23 before I even had one serious relationship and i was probably still NOT ready for it.

When we never live a single life or a life on our own it becomes hard to separate who we are from our partner. It is normal to bounce off of each other and to both want badly to share the same values, identity and interestes EVEN if as individuals those things might never have lined up.

I am NOT a therapist nor can I possibly know you or your exact feelings, I can only go by what you told me. When I am asked for advice I am honest but kind, go from my experiences and or those stories I have been told by friends. Sometimes what I say is NOT what you want or expected to hear. That is okay. You can take what I say or leave it. Or use what helps, ignore what doesn't . So here it goes.

My point about you both meeting young,and thus relying on each other to work on your individuality comes into play here. You are both, I am guessing around 21. Neither of you have had any time to forge exactly who you are. Stastically what are the chances of two women who both lived as a lesbian meeting after you transitioned  and the partner ALSO being trans but not coming out until AFTER the fact. Until after the relationship has progessed.? Speaking in terms of how many trans people are in the population that feels like quite a statistical anomally. What are the chances? Now I suck and math and I know the percentage of any given population in the LGBT+  community as compared to greater society seems sketchy, based on shitty research and at best a bad guess. It just gives me a bit of pause and might give you some food for thought, a chance to think over outside influence vs life long dysphoia or other factors. 

 I preface this by saying I can in no way know you or your partner or pasts or any actual feelings, only what you have told me. I appreciate your stark honesty and your willingness to admit you are struggling. Reaching out is hard even as an anon. Is it in any way possible your partner was influenced heavily by wanting badly to share your life, your values, to feel more inline with you and to feel more close to you and to solidify the relationship in a space that she perceives as more comfortable to you. OR perhaps even your friend group?  

You talk aboout pressure from all sides to be this or be that and if you are a trans man I am sure she was getting not too subtle pressure to not use lesbian even though she was maybe just fine with that, it felt right. There is a vicious push from inside the house to tell people how to describe their sexuality and relationship when it is no one’s business. Others feel uncomfortable when two people live their lives as they see fit and don’t rely on how people perceive them to be happy. It makes some people nuts  in fact. 

To your concern about detransitioning or not or what makes you happy. I know detransitioners and they slide just fine back into the lesbian community they used to have or they have found their own new lesbians friend group. It is not impossible. At many events I have been to in my life, women’s festivals included, there were tans men there who lived soley as men outside the protective walls of women spaces but were happy to be seen as women within the safety of the limited time and space of the event. You can find community among lesbian no matter how you land, it just takes a little bravery and ultimately being okay with yourself. 

I am not going to tell you it is easy no matter the path you choose. Reidentifying as a woman with a full beard and staying on T is never going to be as easy as just saying “I am THIS “. You would have to spend time coming back out, explaining etc until such a time you formed a community who knows you and understands your past. 

Everything you described that you love is everything I love about being butch, I am short, 5′3 so I didn’t experience some things like you have as tall woman in high school, BUT I was definitely clocked as a lesbian even with great effort to be seen has just wearing “typical midwestern shit”. My entire wardrobe was T shirts, sweatshirts, jeand and tennis shoes. I gave up my beloved cowboy boots because others said they made me “look even more like a boy” and in the 1980′s I tranlated that to “butch lesbian” even if I did not have those words. I knew damn well what they were inferring.  

I also know lesbians who take T and remain in the lesbian community, they just feel they need to pass more as men in the larger world for their peace of mind, safety, job, whatever. So deciding that lesbian and butch is right for you does not mean you can’t continue to utilize tools that help you to feel okay. 

This is getting a bit long and I will admit I am unendingly biased, I have never denied that and don’t hide the fact that I think being a butch lesbian is wonderful. GIven all the factors and insecurities you have shared with me being a butch seems like the path of least resistance. Cutting back on T, not constantly worrying about “am I or am I not” and getting back to the basics of what you seemed to understand as you were coming out, before there was transitioning on your table. EVEN in the face of bullying and knowing being a lesbian was not desirable to the outside world you could not escape it and you came out. Perhaps because when you can’t escape you meet something head on and embrace it since that pulls power from the outsiders. 

When you and your partner are alone, away from all others. In the safety of you bed, talking softly and about your day or your plans tomorrow, the world gets no say. You both know that is true in your hearts and please don’t let those in the world, in our own community poison that with pressure and accusations. DO NOT give them control of  your heart, of your love. 

Best of luck and butch hugs to you.

[samwisethewitch]

Divination Basics

From the Roman priest reading auguries to interpret the will of the gods to the modern fortune teller reading with a deck of playing cards, divination has been a part of human spirituality for thousands of years. Today, divination is an important part of many witches’ practices, and can be an important tool for self-reflection and analysis.

Merriam-Webster defines divination as, “the art or practice that seeks to foresee or foretell future events or discover hidden knowledge usually by the interpretation of omens or by the aid of supernatural powers.” Divination can be used for many things, not just to predict the future. It can be used to understand the past, identify patterns at work in your present, or as a tool for working through trauma.

In the book You Are Magical, author Tess Whitehurst describes divination as, “a way of bypassing your linear, thinking mind and accessing the current of divine wisdom and your own inner knowing.” As I’ve discussed in a previous post, all of us are receiving psychic information all the time, though many of us don’t realize it. Divination tools like tarot cards or rune stones act as triggers to help kickstart our natural psychic gifts.

Divination relies on the use of our intuition. Intuition is defined my Merriam-Webster as, “the power or faculty of attaining to direct knowledge or cognition without evident rational thought and inference.” These are the things you know without needing to be told. Another way of thinking of it is this: your intuition is the way you interpret the information you receive through your psychic senses.

The most important thing to remember when doing divination is that the tool you are using isn’t giving you information — it’s simply helping you to access information you already know. The revelations come from you, not from the cards or whatever other tool you may be using.

When using divination to foresee the future, it’s important to remember that the future is never set in stone. These tools can only show you the most likely outcome based on your current direction.

 Beginner-Friendly Divination Tools

These are the divination methods I would recommend for beginners. For one thing, most of these systems are fairly easy to learn and use. For another, these are some of the most popular divination methods among modern witches, so it’s easy to find information about them and/or talk to other practitioners about their experience.

As you’ll see, each divination method has its own strengths and weaknesses, so you may choose to learn several methods that you can combine to get stronger readings. Or you may find that you can get all the information you need from a single method, which is also okay.

Tarot. This is my personal favorite divination method, but it’s also the one with the most misconceptions surrounding it. Tarot cards do not open a portal to the spirit world, and they probably didn’t originate in Ancient Egypt. In fact, evidence suggests that the tarot comes from a medieval Italian card game called Tarocchi, although the modern tarot deck as we know it didn’t come around until the 20th century. Tarot cards are not any more or less supernatural than ordinary playing cards. (Which, incidentally, can also be used for divination.)

Tarot makes use of archetypes, and many readers interpret the cards as a map of an archetypal spiritual journey. For this reason, tarot cards are especially useful for identifying the underlying patterns and hidden influences in any given situation.

Most tarot decks follow the same set of basic symbolism. Unfortunately, this does mean that new readers will need to study the accepted meanings. This isn’t to say that your readings will always match up 100% with the standard meanings of the cards — you may receive intuitive messages that deviate from tradition. Still, it’s helpful to know a little of the history and traditional symbolism behind this powerful divination tool. The good news is that, since most decks use similar symbolism, once you learn the traditional meanings you can successfully read with almost any tarot deck.

I’m planning to post a more in-depth introduction to tarot very soon, but in the meantime, if you want to learn this divination method I recommend starting with the book Tarot For Beginners by Lisa Chamberlain and/or with the website Biddy Tarot.

Oracle Cards. Oracle cards have been rapidly gaining popularity in the witchcraft and New Age communities in the last few years, and it’s easy to see why. One major appeal of oracle cards is how diverse they are — there are countless different oracle decks out there, each with its own theme and symbolism. Another big plus is how beginner-friendly they are; Oracle cards are usually read intuitively, so most decks won’t require you to learn a complex system of symbolism. (Of course, the fact that every oracle deck uses different symbolism can be frustrating for some readers, because they have to learn a new set of symbols for every deck.)

Some readers (myself included) also find that oracle cards usually give more surface level information. Tess Whitehurst says that, “While oracle cards can help us answer the questions ‘What direction should I take?’ and ‘What is the lesson here?’ tarot cards are more suited to helping us answer the questions ‘What is going on?’ and ‘What is the underlying pattern at work here?'” For this reason, many readers choose to use tarot and oracle cards together to get a more well-rounded look at the situation.

Another common complaint about oracle cards is that many decks are overwhelmingly positive and shy away from dark themes or imagery, which creates an imbalanced reading experience. I think this is best summed up by one Amazon review for the Work Your Light Oracle, which says: “Basically, this is very much a deck for Nice White Ladies(TM) who like crystals and candles but aren’t ‘super into all that witchy stuff.'”

There ARE oracle decks out there that address darker themes, but many of the most popular decks on the market are overwhelmingly positive. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. Sometimes a little positive encouragement is more helpful than brutal honesty. However, too much focus on the positive can lead you to ignore your problems, which only makes things worse in the long run. For this reason, finding balanced decks is important — if you’re going to use a very shiny happy deck, my advice would be to alternate it with more grounded decks, or with a deck specifically designed for shadow work.

That being said, oracle cards are a great divination tool if you can find a good deck, especially for beginners who are intimidated by more structured systems like tarot and the runes. If you’re interested in working with oracle cards, the best way to start is to find a deck that 1.) you feel a strong attraction to, and 2.) has a good guidebook. (My favorite oracle deck is the Halloween Oracle by Stacey Demarco, which I use for readings all year.)

Runes. The Elder Futhark alphabet is a runic alphabet that originated in ancient Scandinavia around 200 AD. While this was an actual writing system, it also had magical and mythological associations in the cultures that originally used it. While using the runes for divination is a modern practice, it is based on the historical sense of magic surrounding these symbols.

Like tarot, the runes have a traditional set of meanings. However, because there are only twenty-four runes, there aren’t as many meanings to learn as there are with tarot. Some rune sets also contain a blank stone, which has its own special meaning. I have personally found the runes to be a great source of wisdom and insight, although they do tend towards “big picture” messages rather than small details.

However, there is one major stain on the runes’ history; they were studied and used by Nazi occultists before and during World War II. Like many symbols associated with historical Germanic paganism, the runes were appropriated as part of Nazi propaganda — for example, the Sowilo rune was incorporated into the SS logo. This isn’t to say that you can’t reclaim the Elder Futhark alphabet, but I do think it’s important to know the history going in. Because of their association with Nazism, it’s best to avoid wearing or publicly displaying the runes.

There are other ancient alphabets that are used for divination, like the Anglo-Saxon runes or the Irish Ogham, but the Elder Futhark is the most popular.

If you’re interested in learning divination with runes, I recommend the book Pagan Portals: Runes by Kylie Holmes.

Pendulums. Pendulums are interesting because, unlike tarot, oracle cards, and runes, they can be used to answer yes or no questions. For this reason, many readers use pendulums to get clarification on readings they’ve done with other divination methods, but you can also use pendulums on their own.

A pendulum is any small, weighted object hanging from a chain or string. You can buy a pendulum made specifically for divination from a metaphysical shop or an Etsy seller, but you can just as easily use something you already have: a necklace, your housekey, or a small rock or crystal tied to a string.

Pendulums may be the easiest divination method to learn. The only thing you need to do to learn how to interpret a pendulum is ask it what its “yes” and “no” motions look like. To do this, simply hold your pendulum in your hands and focus on your connection to it. Then, let the pendulum hang from its chain or string so it can swing freely. Say or think, “Show me ‘yes’.” Allow the pendulum to swing, and pay attention to its movements. “Yes” is often a forwards-and-backwards swing or a clockwise circle, but your “yes” may look different. (Some witches even notice that different pendulums in their collection have different “yes” and “no” movements!) Once you’ve gotten the pendulum to show you its “yes,” ask it to show you its “no.” For many readers, “no” is a side-to-side swing or a counterclockwise circle, but again, yours may be different.

The biggest downside to pendulums is that because they typically only answer “yes” or “no,” you have to be very specific with your questions. Pendulums aren’t the best tool for general energy readings or open-ended advice. However, that specificity makes them great for validating your gut feelings, interpreting your dreams, identifying a deity or spirit that you think may be reaching out to you, or any other situation that requires a little clarification.

[wizkiddx]

...surprise

um okay so here I am trying angst again. this is kind of intended to be open ended bcos might have a part two at some point. im also lazy and has a few time jumps. also if someone could pls explain if you just get pics for the top of these off internet or credit on like gifs or something that’d be appreciated.

Summary: Tom comes home and everything is most definitely not the way he left, nor is it healthy

Warnings: please read with caution esp relationship with food / weightloss, but just generally a person in a bad bad head space, lots of self blame - then next parts will carry different warnings too

************************

Tom had been away for months. Months and months away from his girlfriend, separated entirely by his filming locations in Europe and America; while you were busy slowly and steadily climbing the ranks of your law firm. Being an intense period for the pair, you hadn’t managed to see each other in 2 and a half months.  Of course, both go you were used to this - 3 years deep into a relationship between an actor and a wanna-be lawyer- this was the name of the game.

But honestly? You both just kept falling deeper and deeper, making the separation harder to deal with - rather than getting used to it as one might hope.

That's why Tom felt such an incredibly overwhelming wave of relief as he dumped his bags just outside his front door. Even though he was exhausted from the travelling, just the mere act of finally phishing out his housekeys brought a massive grin to his face - caused particularly by the sight of his tacky little keyring from a Moroccan market that you’d bought him. That had been your first holiday. There’s that old saying that before you move in with someone go on holiday first - Tom understood it to mean you supposedly see all the bad and ugly stuff people can hide from each other, a prewiring before committing to living in the same space. However that holiday all he’d learned was incredible you are to him. To his dying day, Tom will never forget the moment he looked over to his left when the two of you were on this night time stargaze in the depth of the Moroccan desert. Y/n had never seen stars like it, the skies so incredibly clear and lit up with an array of magical blues and purples and whites on its sark background. The sight, for no unexplainable reason, had you completely opening up to Tom about things she’d never told a single soul. And in that moment he’d had this sort of realisation. Not about how much he loved her - because that is just the cliche thing everyone says… and also just wasn’t true.

In that moment he’d rather realised the potential. The sort of ‘I’m not there yet but I know you could become the centre of my universe’. The sort of ‘I’m not ready to say this yet, but I want to spend my life with you’. The sort of ‘at some point in my life I’m not sure my heart will be able to beat without yours’.

He still hadn’t quite got to explicitly saying all that yet, by asking you for the ultimate commitment. But he planned to now he was coming back to you.

Even with the chill of the early evening winter air, Tom was almost ecstatic as he unlocked the door and let himself in. He hadn’t told you that he was coming home, you thought he had another two weeks on the job, but Tom was a bit of an old romantic - he loved seeing your eyes fill with wonder as he surprised you in whatever way. Sometimes it was as simple as a note on the fridge, or a small bouquet from behind his back or as fancy as a surprise holiday.

However, this time, though it was only 6 in the evening, all the lights of their house were off making Tom raise an eyebrow as he quietly slipped off his shoes - not wanting to scare Y/n just in case.

Tom had sworn when he’d been on the phone with you the previous day, you didn’t have any plans tonight but perhaps maybe a spontaneous pub trip and been offered with work colleagues. The house felt a little cold as he padded through it, poking his head into every room just to check Y/n wasn’t there. His last port of call was the bedroom.

By this point, Tom was pretty resigned on the fact you were out and he’d maybe cook a meal for when you got back or hide about the house or something. But instead, when he poked his head around this door, he sighed in delight at the sight of a still mound under the plush white sheets. For a brief moment, Tom paused, before tiptoeing steadily round to her bedside. The light was still off but the hallway light illuminated the room enough so he could make out your soft features and the messy ball of hair that had been haphazardly thrown in a bun. Furthermore, he could also notice in the light the packet of painkillers and migraine tablets lying opened on the bedside - which made him freeze. Y/n didn’t get migraines often at all, but when she did Tom knew just how bad they could be. That explained the fact you were spark out at six o’clock, making Tom give a sympathetic smile. He crept back out the room with a little spring in his step, deciding that since he had had a long day travelling he'd grab a snack and join you. Unfortunately though, when he enthusiastically yanked the fridge open the sight was a rather depressing one. He didn’t really know what he was craving but the fridge contents were of almost no use to anyone. The place was bloody baron, apart from a tub of butter and of course his special beers that Y/n would never dare touch. With a small huff though, Tom resigned himself to some bread and butter, before getting ready for bed.

It was probably an hour later when Tom was carefully crawling under the duvet to settle in beside Y/n after the disappointing snack and maybe a solitary ‘welcome home beer’ - it would be rude not to. God was he excited to just have his girlfriend in his arms again though. So, Tom naturally reached over and powerfully yet gently pulled you back towards him - making your back flush with his as you mumbled something incoherent. Chuckling slightly at your apparent annoyance of being disturbed, Tom pressed a kiss to her temple before settling down momentarily.

But something wasn’t quite right, making Tom shuffle about a bit - ever adjusting huis grasp on your waist as he attempted to get comfy. With the migraine medications forcing you into a deep deep sleep you barely stirred and that just made the unease increase for Tom. Because you didn’t feel right. This didn’t feel right. Ever so slowly Tom started to peel back the duvet from your body from his now sitting upright position. Typically, Y/n was wearing one of his hoodies, however more concerningly it seemed to pool and collect around your frame more than normal.

Now, Y/n was never the most petite person in the world - by no means overweight, instead of beautiful curves and muscle. To Tom now though, it was as if someone had literally shrunk you - like a picture on a word document you needed to make narrower to fit the margins. Even in the dim light of the bedroom he know realised you looked pale. Honestly, Tom didn’t know how long he just sat there staring at you, until you sighed a little and pulled the duvet back up to just under your chin.

He didn’t know what to think or do. All he knew was you didn’t look well and that you hadn’t said a thing to him. Feeling so very uncomfortable within himself, Tom climbed out the bed and simultaneously grabbed his phone. He knew he had to call someone, to check that you hadn’t been ill - but then who to call? Someone that wouldn’t judge or instantly worry- your mum was completely off the cards. Also, he hadn’t even given you the chance to explain yet, so really he knew there was only a couple of options who were close enough to him too.

“Hey what’s up?” “Um nothing much, back in the UK though so-“ “Oh shit really! Kept that one quite bro” “Yeh well came back to surprise Y/n” “Oh you're soooo whipped” “Fuck off Haz, have you um… have you seen her recently anyway?” “You're asking me if I’ve seen your girl while you’ve been away?” “I’m being serious. You’re pretty much brother and sister and I’m -I’m a bit worried.” “What? You know she wouldn’t cheat especially with me” Haz’s tone turned less serious, using a goofy accent “ I know too much.” Haz still attempted to lighten the mood, this conversation very unexpected and making him grow more and more concerned himself. “Haz quit it. I’m worried she’s been ill. I’ve come in and she’s asleep with a migraine but there’s no food in the fridge and she’s skinny as hell.” “Fuck er sorry I didn’t realise. But um no she’s been cancelling on us for the past like two weeks cos like…I don’t know said she was just snowed under at the firm so” “But before then?” “No yeh she was fine. Went to the pub a couple times and she always drove so didn’t drink but nothing weird - think she wanted to keep a clear head. What are you thinking?” “I don’t know to be honest mate. She seemed fine on the phone but I swear to god she looks half the size  of what she was when I left.” “Just talk to her in the morning? She probably is just stressed if work has been mad busy.” Tom hummed in agreement, half trying to convince himself too. “Yeh yeh, sorry for bothering you.” “Oh shut up mate - I’ll see you both at your parents for the roast tomorrow? Sams got some new recipe I think, he’s been wittering on about it for days.” “Yeh we’ll be there, see you then mate.” 

After signing off to Haz, Tom placed his phone on the little table on the upstairs hallway and sighed. He knew he was being over-protective but he couldn’t help it. Y/n was always the one to care for him, in fact to care for everybody int he room and then some.

He’d get to the bottom of whatever this was tomorrow, and so the rest of the evening Tom spent rather unhappily get ready before bed yet again before climbing back in next to you.

///////////////////////////

Tom woke before you, a combination of jet lag and the worry in the pit of his stomach meaning he stirred awake first. Instinctively he pulled you closer and nuzzled his nose into the side of your neck as he slowly began to wake up properly - shrugging off the grogginess. Tom was still really excited for you to realise he was back, predicting you  to excitedly hug him ever so tight and then spend the morning between the sheets. He knew you found the distance tough, especially when all your closest friends were coupled off, it meant you just didn’t have ‘your person’. It was almost as if you were single again and instead of pining over an ex, hopelessly and completely in love with someone across the globe. But that just made your time together even more invaluable and precious.

So even with his slight unease at your slimmer silhouette, Tom didn't have any control over the loopy grin that came to his face as you started to stir and mumble something incoherent, all the while (and subconsciously) inching closer towards him. By the slight fluttering under your eyelid, Tom knew you were waking up and so took the moment to tuck your frizzy bed hair behind your ear. Sighing contently Y/n’s eyes fluttered completely open and Tom met your gaze with the most gently of smiles.

However, he then watched moment by moment as your expression morphed for one of peacefulness and content, through confusion, and ending at pure terror. He had barely thought of asking you why, before you yelped, throwing yourself up into a sitting position and backing as far away on the bed as you could from Tom. “TOM... I-you can’t be here! YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE!” “Y/n hey what’s wrong-“ “GET OUT! G-GET THE FUCK OUT! YOU CAN’T BE HERE” you  yanked the bedsheets to completely cover your huddled up body, as if trying to protect yourself. At this point, tears were streaming down your face and what truly terrified Tom was the expression of horror in your eyes. He threw his hands in the air and unsteadily stumbled to his feet. “O-okay I’m-“ “GET OUT!!! YOU CAN'T SEE ME GET OUT!” Completely bemused and shocked, Tom just nodded jerkily -already halfway out the door and accidentally slamming it in haste.

He had absolutely zero clue what that was about. But what he knew for a fact? He’d never ever seen you like that… you looked so completely terrified… of him? Tom couldn’t for the life of him work out what the hell was going on, as he paced from the shut door to the hallway wall and back again, running his hand through his hair throughout. He could hear you sobbing and whisper yelling - presumably at yourself. It felt as though his heart was being torn out, seeing you that upset and it appearing as his fault? He was acting on pure instinct and adrenalin because your pain hurt him too. He had no control of the physiological response in his body, making his hands shake and breathing increase in speed as it inversely got shallower too.

And so he took a short inhalation, biting his bottom lip as he knocked on the door. “Y/n?….” He got no response after waiting a couple of seconds so tried again - because he could hear you trying to stifle your sobs. After another two failed attempts he opted for a different approach. “Y/n… I’m worried about you… look, I know your upset right now but I need you to let me know your okay… or I’ll have to come in and…and I don’t want to spook you” “Don’t come in.” It was a sharp reply, with a voice that was cracked and clearly trying to keep It together. “Okay… I-I’m sorry if my surprise of coming home was a dumb idea…I-I’ve missed you.” Tom tried speaking softly, as he knelt down and sat with this back against the wall while nervously fiddling with his watch strap that he’d forgot to take off last night. Again he waited for a response but got nothing, again having to warn you he needed to know you were okay. He heard movements from the other side of the door, making him turn his head to the left, pressing his ear on the cool gloss paint. “I-I’m sorry” You barely were whispering, but Tom could sense you were now sitting in a position mirroring his “You don’t meed to apologise love” Returning her tone, Tom sighed at the end - trying to get his brain to process what was going on.

Y/n wasn’t one to overreact and Tom could count on one hand the number of serious fights they’d had in the three year romance. And even then, he was the one to raise his voice - when she argued it was more reasoned, slow and controlled. Actually it was one of the things that in those moments infuriated him even more - you were just so level headed and sensible. Scratch that, sensible purely in this context - everywhere else you were just as loopy as him. So this situation felt so very alien. He didn’t know how to help you and he bloody hated feeling useless.

After a few moments, you replied to apologise once again, for shouting specifically,  and Tom nodded - not that you could see. But that was one of the things Y/n had taught him, sometimes you just have accept things - no matter the context. Accept he wasn’t actually a superhero and couldn’t do everything, accept that sometimes he could be a dick and out of line or accept an apology.

“Can you.. can you try and tell me why your upset? I want to help.” He was trying to be gentle, non-confrontational. But he knew something was so wrong. He needed to know so he could try and help out. “I…”Y/n began, but quickly trailed off, as if trying to formulate the words properly. “I’ve just been ill and” again another pause “and I haven’t been looking after myself very well. I just planned to be umm- to be better when you got back.”

It wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t really the truth either, at least not the whole truth. But it wasn’t a lie.

“I’m not sure I understand why your so worried about what I think though?” Tom inquired, as he started to fiddle with the door handle in his left hand - as if easing the idea of coming into his girlfriend without scaring you. In reply, you sighed again trying to put the words together without explicitly spelling it out to him. “I don’t- I thought you’d just be disappointed or-or think I’m reliant on you. I’m not and I can handle myself I just…. I don’t know.” “I love you, you idiot.”Tom chuckled at that, while standing up. “Can I come in now please? I promise I’m not disappointed just want to help you feel better.”

The door opened and no sooner could Tom take a step forward than Y/n ran into his chest, wrapping herself tightly around him in apology. He knew that he didn’t have the full story but really didn’t want to push her, more preferring to just love her. So that’s what they spent the rest of the morning doing, in their pyjamas and watching TV. Quite obviously, she wasn’t really making a lot of conversation, Tom filled some gaps with talking about filming - to which she’d hum in agreement or chuckle along. But for the most part Y/n was concentrating on something else.

The all-consuming guilt. That was what was eating away at her.

part 2?

[unbridgeabledistances]

so ik we aren’t sure if the camo kiss was cut or not, but i wrote it just in case:) this takes place directly after 11x04!

(also i am still working on prompts after a little break, those will b up soon!<3)

--

Ian stumbled up the front steps of the Gallagher house, trying not to pay too much attention to the heavy metal music and the roar of the bonfire coming from the lot beside the house. He fumbled in the cheap fabric pockets of his military outfit to try and find his housekeys (Frank had started being vigilant about locking the front door since what he was calling the “Great Milkovich Invasion”). Mickey was a couple of steps behind him, stopping to lean over the chain link fence and flipping off one of his more scraggly-looking cousins who had just taken it upon himself to yell “military pussies” as Ian and Mickey walked by- honestly, not the worst insult they could have shouted, considering they’d had all day to brew up new combinations of slurs after seeing Mickey and Ian walk by in their uniforms on their way to Kev and V’s that morning.

Ian slid the key in the lock, and turned around to call to Mickey, who was still hurling insults at his bearded cousin as the moonlight bounced off his face.

“Better watch your fucking back, Gary, ‘cause my window’s right up there above you, and I’d hate to accidentally do some target practice during your little sleepover under the stars out here.”

Ian rolled his eyes. “Hey, sharpshooter, you wanna come inside?”

Mickey cast one more glare at the tattered group of Milkoviches, then reached over the fence to take the can of beer one of them was holding.

“Better sleep with one eye open, assholes.”

Mickey turned and finally ambled up the creaking front steps, ducking under Ian’s arm that was holding the door open into the warm glow of the living room. Mickey kicked off his boots and threw them onto the living room floor, then took a sip of his stolen lukewarm beer and grinned, his defensive facade completely melting away now that they were safely indoors.

“Nice first day, Gallagher. Might have to give you a promotion soon.”

Ian rolled his eyes even more aggressively as he crouched down and untied the shoelaces of his bulky pleather military boots.

“Oh yeah? I don’t remember saying I was interested in being employed on a regular basis.”

Mickey took a final sip of the stolen beer and winced, then crushed the can on the back of the couch. “Well I guess today’s your lucky day then, lover. I ended your job hunt right before it even started.”

Mickey took off the flimsy camo pageboy hat and tossed it on the ground next to his shoes. “You want a beer? That shit was disgusting.”

Ian smirked, pulling off his boots and putting them by the door. “Yeah, sure.”

Mickey strode into the kitchen, while Ian scooped up Mickey’s discarded boots and hung up his hat by the door.

“I still can’t believe they had all that fucking weed just lying around, man!” Mickey called from the kitchen, opening the fridge and making the bottles clang as he fumbled for two beers.

Ian smirked and ambled into the kitchen, settling against the edge of the countertop. Mickey handed him a beer, which Ian opened on the side of the counter and slowly took a sip.

“Yeah. It’s fuckin’ crazy.”

Mickey was standing inches in front of him, twisting off the cap of his own beer and smiling with bright eyes, like he was glowing from this absurdly weird day going exactly as he had planned. Ian had the sudden thought that maybe it had- while Mickey seemed to act like he didn’t want to wear the camo gear that Ian discovered in the back corner of the dingy army supply store, Ian was starting to realize that Mickey getting him to play dress-up all day while they did the security job might have been exactly what Mickey had in mind when he was giving Ian shit at the store. As if confirming Ian’s thoughts, Mickey smiled a half-smile and poked him in the chest, giddy.

“Gallavich security, bitch. No more faking pay stubs for my P.O., the two of us are gonna make a killing just fucking hauling weed around all day.”

Ian barked out a laugh as he set his bottle down on the counter and pulled himself up to sit on the edge. “Gallavich security?”

“Fuck yeah, bitch. We’re going official. The name sounds totally badass anyways, gotta let everyone know what we mean business.”

Ian smirked. “Hm, okay. And since both of our names are in the business title, does that mean I still work for you? Or does it mean that we’re partners now?”

Mickey stepped closer, eyebrows raised and his tone playful. “Well, I don’t know. That depends on how hard you work, how you do in your employee review. You’re the one always talking about work ethic and all that shit.”

Ian rolled his eyes, but reached his arms up to comfortably rest over Mickey’s shoulders. “Oh yeah, boss? And how’d I do today?”

Mickey took a second to respond, leaning in closer now that he was ensnared in Ian’s grasp. His eyes flickered to Ian’s lips, then back up to meet Ian’s eyes with that intoxicated, heavy-lidded look he always had when Ian’s face was inches from his.

“Not sure yet. You gonna work with me again tomorrow?” Mickey retorted, a little more softly.

Ian sighed. “If I say yes, will you get off my fucking back about the fact that you have a job and I don’t?”

Mickey leaned his face in closer, then reached up and pulled Ian’s cheap camo hat off of his head.

“Deal.”

And then they were kissing, and Ian’s arms were pulling Mickey closer and cradling the back of his head in his hands—they were kissing, and for the first time in weeks they weren’t kissing because they had been fighting, or because they wanted a quick fuck and needed to blow off some steam, but because they wanted to be closer to each other, kissing because they were finally on the same team. He and Mickey were wearing matching fucking costumes, and they probably looked fucking ridiculous—but they were actually working together for once, were actually standing hand in hand in front of whoever crossed their path. While the day had begun with Ian reeling in panic that Mickey would do something illegal or stupid or both and end up in prison and away from him again, now Ian couldn’t shake the warmth that overtook him, sitting on the kitchen counter with his legs wrapped around a warm and thrumming Mickey, who had softened the second that Ian decided to get off the couch and be with him all day.

Perching on the kitchen counter, feeling his husband’s hungry lips press against his again and again, Ian couldn’t help but think that this wasn’t the way he’d envisioned wearing camo someday back when he was 16 and in ROTC; hell, he never would have imagined that he would have gone to jail someday when he was 16, or that he would preach in a church to crowds of hundreds of people, or that he would be bipolar— but the most surprising thing of all in his life was the fact that he would actually get to love Mickey Milkovich, that he was married to the dirt-smudged shit-talking teenage boy he’d spent his whole life wanting to be close to. The Gallagher kitchen had undoubtedly seen its fair share of make-out sessions, between him and Trevor or Caleb or whoever—but Ian couldn’t help but think that this moment with Mickey felt like the only kiss that mattered, the only time that Ian wasn’t putting on an act. Mickey was the only person that Ian didn’t have to pretend for, the only one who was his exact brand of crazy— Mickey was the only one Ian could think of who wouldn’t scoff at Ian’s idea of wearing matching outfits to do a security job, and instead got dressed and walked down the street beside him, got giddy at the fact they could spend the day together. Ian had never known where his life would take him, but building a business with the love of his life seemed like a pretty good start.

Ian’s hand slid from the back of Mickey’s head and down his neck, and he let his fingers rest over the camo-printed lapels of Mickey’s shirt, right in the spot he knew Mickey’s tattoo was. Mickey trailed kisses down the side of Ian’s neck, pulling him in closer.

“Love you, love you so fucking much,” Mickey mumbled as he crashed their lips together again.

And as Ian grasped the back of Mickey’s hair once more, breathing him in, he knew that this was exactly where he was supposed to be.

[hot-wiings]

The One Where Kenma Has Been Spending To Much Time On His PSP And [Y/N] Needs Cuddles.

Edited: 2-22-2021

You slightly lifted the plant up on Kenma's porch and fished the housekey under the pot out and into your fingers. Normally, someone taking out the spare house key to the house they did not live in would be creepy, this was not the case. Every Friday, you would rush to get your homework done while Kenma was in volleyball practice after school, then you would change out of your school clothes before heading over to his house for well-deserved time spent together.

This was a weekly routine for you and Kenma, and the Kozume's were happy to have you come over and use the spare whenever you needed to come over. You pushed the key in the handle, twisted it open, and entered your boyfriend's home. You left the key on the counter before heading up to Kenma's bedroom where you knew he'd be resting up from practice.

"I'm here for my daily fix of hugs and kisses."

Kenma was sitting in his bed, curled up in a ball with his PSP in his hands, you're not sure he heard you due to his lack of response. You slipped your shoes off by his door and made your way over to his bed. You climbed onto it beside Kenma, slightly startling him but not enough to make him lose his game. He looks up briefly but returns to his game quickly as to not let himself die.

"Hey, what're you doing here?"

"It's Friday. Didn't you hear me? I'm ready for my fix of hugs and kisses."

"I thought it was Thursday. Can I finish my game?"

You slipped your arms around Kenma and put your head in the crook of his neck to peer over his shoulder to try and see what game he was playing. It was OverWatch, you wanted to scowl but resisted the urge to. Those games were always so long, they could range from five to forty minutes.

"I guess, are you close to done?"

Kenma doesn't reply but you watch him aggressively tap away at the buttons on his game. You let go of him and flop down on the pillow next to him. This was going to take forever. Silently, as to not distract him, you pull out your phone and dink around a bit on social media. The clock was slowly ticking, and your patience was growing thin. Every so often you look over Kenma's shoulder to check in on him playing his game. After what felt like the umpteenth time checking, victory was displayed over Kenma's game.

"All done?"

"Can I play another round? I play another one I'll both level up and get a medal."

You should say no. This is our time. The one day a week we set aside time for each other. Kenma's voice sounded so excited, and his smile was so big.

"Fine, but I want double my fix of hugs and kisses."

The waiting began again. This time you spent a majority of your time propped up by pillows watching Kenma play his game. The first five minutes were boring, he was just scavenging around, evading enemies, and looking for a weapon. Ten more minutes go by and soon your watching Kenma shoot down his enemies. Soon those fifteen minutes double and transition into a half-hour. Kenma was quickly playing and taking shelter while he briefly took a second to plug his PSP into a charger before he continued to charge into battle and a dastardly idea popped in your head.

Most days you could pride yourself on being a good girlfriend. You would even go as far as to say the best girlfriend. You supported Kenma, you were patient with him. Today was not one of those days. You had officially been here for an hour and a half waiting on Kenma to finish his game, you'd have to take matters into your own hands, unfortunately for Kenma, his PSP was down to three percent, and the charging outlet was on your side of the bed.

He won't know. How would he know? For all he knows he pulled too hard and knocked the cord out. That line to convince you was thin, and you easily crossed it. It only takes a second and you're reaching above your head and nonchalantly disconnecting the cord from the block. You wait just a few minutes, and soon Kenma's PSP screen goes black.

"No!"

You felt partly bad as Kenma's PSP shut off, but this was the one day a week you both set aside time for each other. It was hard finding time between your studies and Kenma's volleyball to find time for each other. With nationals and the end of the semester coming up, you were both busy as ever. Kenma placed his PSP on the small dresser by his bed and rolled over to face you.

He didn't bother mentioning how he knew the cord on his PSP had been unplugged. He didn't bother mentioning how he had lost his game. All he did was wrap his arms around your frame and pull your body into his. All he did was place a small kiss against your head before placing his chin ontop.

"Want those hugs and kisses now?"

"Oh, is your game over? Yes. I want my hugs and kissies now!"

"Have you ate? I can try to make something for you."

You pulled yourself closer to Kenma's chest, engulfing yourself in his warm shirt, and smiled as you felt him place another kiss on your head.

"I'm alright, just cuddle me. How was practice? Tetsuro texted me saying you were mean, something about calling him a dog? He told me to hide your games."

Kenma goes off launching himself into the story of how Kuroo got mad at him for telling him that he looked like the leader dog from up. You listen to every precious word, enjoying the well deserved attention you and Kenma set aside for each other weekly. Being in each other arms, sharing these special moments together, the sweet little talks about your days, it was precious and irreplaceable to Kenma. No game could ever replace what you had.

[alexthedrummerboy]

I ain’t being a buzz kill but Soyon said herself, Willies key and Flynn’s lock have no meaning, it’s just what the actors wanted to wear. But your basically saying ignore what she said it does have meaning. Erm no it doesn’t and you yourself don’t get to decide that.

We don’t agree with each other so let’s move on.

bro i’ve moved on

you’re the one who came back into my ask to tell my why i was wrong to have a headcanon about two characters that i enjoy talking about

anyway the key willie wears around his neck used to be his housekey and he just never took it off because he’s sentimental like that <3