#I have run away from the bird app

[shironoegakite]

I have returned to the hellhole, now I need to find my welcome back t-shirt

[deadghosy]

THANKS TO @lazyemmy FOR THIS LOVELY IDEA OF THE PENGUIN! READER💗🦆

HAZBIN HOTEL X PENGUIN! READER

prompt: during one extermination an angel had kidnapped you and took you to heaven based off a common mistake

“Quack?” You were literally trying to water the hotel’s flowers when you forgot about extermination….the leader of the exterminators had grabbed you by your sailor outfit Velvette made you.

“Shut your mouth short stuff.” You heard a man’s voice to see a person wearing a horned mask and a golden robe. You panicked as Charlie had told you about a man like this as Adam scoffs seeing your panicked state.

“JEEZ CHILL OUT YOU FUCKIN' BIRD BRAIN!” Adam yells as he enters in the portal of heaven with the exterminators behind him. He plops you down on the clouded floors to see the heavenly gates Charlie tells you in stories

As you waddled you seen a male who seemed to be waiting for you. “Ah! Reader..so glad to have you. It seems as if heaven had made a mistake and sent you to hell.” St. Peter said as he picks you up having the gates open. Your eyes widen at the bright light of heaven as angels walk and smile. “Welcome to your true home [reader]”

The air smelt so clean and not bloody as it seemed so peaceful and holy. After St. Peter getting your room and home ready to stay in heaven. You start to feel a little “home” sick as you hope the hotel crew was doing well and aren’t going crazy.

Which they totally are as Charlie is panicking calling her father.

After a few days , Adam will visit you a lot saying how he got forced to look after you…(he wasn’t forced he just liked how cute and pure you are but he’ll never admit it) Adam makes dumb ass jokes about how all those sinners down there should die and perish as he pats you on your little head. You quacked trying to show some worry for your friends down there.

“Oh them? Hah! They’re probably running like headless chickens looking for your ass.” Adam says with his usual grin as he pops some popcorn in his mouth. “Want some?” He says as he waves a piece of popcorn in your face. you sniffed it and ate it from his hand as adam's eyes widen at your cuteness…

you're like a little baby..💗😭😭😭

Adam grabs your chubby cold cheeks as he faces you towards him. “Never leave here. Okay?” He says seriously low with a protective tone as you quack nodding nervously at how quick this dude got attached to you.

Adam pushes your face away from him smirking. “Good now let’s watch this video I saw off of this human app called ‘TikTok’”

Lute didn’t know how to approach you, but she sends you small gifts that reminds her of you as you just open them like “quack?” And a head tilt confused but take it in anyways.

I imagine lute literally being your bodyguard when you don’t have any work to do as she just pushes anyone who gets to close to you away. LIKE IT COULD BE AN OLD LADY AND SHE WOULD BE LIKE “BITCH MOVE!”😭

After the 3rd day of the 1 week of being in heaven, lute definitely got overprotective of you. Always keeping tabs on where you go and which house you deliver mail to. I mean who knows what would happen to a cute soul like you? (A/n: Omg this sounds like a yandere…)

The angels love how adorable you are as they pet you. Immediately you are popular just like how you are popular in hell. Sera has given you a job as a mail boy again as you smile.

I can see St.Peter visit you when he isn’t on duty or just when someone takes his spot so he can say hi and hang out with you.

You wear a cute little yellow and white mail delivery fit thanks to sera who got a designer to get you to fit it perfectly.

You love how you still got your delivery job as you leave a cookie on the front porches of the angels. It’s like your significant signature to others to have a good day.

Adam and lute were arguing one time in front of you and you sniffled not liking the loud noises and immediately, and surprisingly. Adam and Lute pretended everything was okay to make you happy as Adam picked you up and took you away to get your favorite snack for you.

Sera checks on you as well with Emily by her side as Emily just finds you so cute and is excited to get to hang out with you more.

Emily immediately hugs and kisses your head amused by your small and kind soul she sees in you.

Sera would like to take you on stroll on week 2. She’d like to show you around heaven with Emily as she hold you in her arms gushing chow cute you are.

NOW I CAN IMAGINE YOU AND EMILY GOING ON A SHOPPING SPREE TO EXPLORE NEW CLOTHING AESTHETIC ✨💗

You showed yourself to be an angel by spirit as you helped a kid get a new lollipop, which makes sera smile at you being helpful as he is glad to hav with here in heaven and not they “ratchet” place.

You do miss hell as it had your friends who you got use to….you hoped they were still doing okay down there.

MEANWHILE IN HELL: “OMG OMG I CANT BELIEVE THEY GOT KIDNAPPED…IM A BAD FRIENDDD” “HON DONT WORRY, YOUR DAD CAN FIND A WAY TO GET THEM..” “it’s okay fat nuggets, they’ll come back…” *sad oink* and everyone else is having their own panic moment in their own way.

MEANWHILE BACK IN HEAVEN: “quack.” You said looking up at adam who holds your hand. “Huh? Jeeezzz bird brain..stop worrying about those loser down there…they’re fine without you.” Adam says smirking knowing damn well they aren’t .

Emily holds your hand as you waddle quacking at the ice creams around here. They taste so much better as your eyes sparkle at this sweet flavored treat. Emily squeals as her eyes got big and took a pic of your happy face. Sera most definitely got the picture on her heaven phone as her face soften seeing the new angel in heaven enjoying their self.

I imagine Adam is the one to be the one who claims to be the closest to you. But really he just brags about himself to you about how much sinners he kills.

I headcannon for your wings to be little cute fairy looking wings or pure white ones as you just fly.

You definitely have cherubim in heaven which makes the angels find you more adorable as the delivery boy.

You had made an account literally one day, and instantly you got 2 million followers which made you shock as Adam just munches on snacks while you quack panicked at how quick you became famous here.

I headcannon St. Peter to send you cookies with those cute little penguin designs on it. It looks like Christmas cookies but they are so cute and tasty

Say for example you fell and you couldn’t get up as you’re so rounded 😭 LITERALLY ALL YOU CAN DO IS ROLL AND SQEUAK AND QUACK💗 Adam is laughing as he takes a picture and video for himself before helping you up.

I can imagine Adam and Sera having a schedule out to plan who gets it hang out with you on weeks and days 😭

You liked the herbal tea they had as you waddle around with Adam having a kid leash on you as he just looked bored.

At the end of the week, you were sleeping wearing a whole ass cute gown Adam bought you as he literally dropped it on you with a flustered face seeing your cute smile.

As you slept…Lucifer snuck into heaven and snatched you up leaving a “fuck you” letter to Adam. Don’t even question how he got into heaven. Just be glad he took you.

[brailsthesmolgurl]

“Do you have games on your phone?”

Preview: A look into the guilty-pleasure games the boys would have on their phones and what they would generally what is in their phone.

XAVIER

“Yeah I play them every once in a while.” The blond boy lifted his phone screen up, directing it to your face and it revealed the home page. Of course he would have your FACE ID registered into his phone. He is a man of privacy most of the time so having his phone to be locked is mostly to restrict strangers from accessing his phone. His phone applications are neatly arranged into folders, he has a lot of them, separated and boxed away according to their usage. Useless Apps, Useful Apps, Socials and Games. These are about the amount of folders he would have on his home page, featuring a silhouette picture of you staring off into the dark of the night, admiring the moon and basking under its silvery light. That picture of you is one of his favourites out of the other pictures he has of you in his photo album. “You can try playing this.” He pretty much has all of the classic games one could think of in his Games folder. Subway surfers, Temple Run, Angry Birds, Minecraft and many other classics.

You were stunned at the amount of games that the folder holds. It took your around five swipes to reach the end of the folder. When asked with why he has so much games that it filled up more than half of his storage, he flashes you an amused grin. “I spend a lot of my time on my phone if I am alone or not sleeping. So I like to keep myself entertained.” He is the type to watch you play the games on his phone, seemingly entertained by how hard you were trying to beat his score when he himself has worldwide rank of #1 across all games. You are definitely in shock and low-key wondered how long does he actually spend on playing all of these games in order to gain such a rank. When you lost within the first few rounds, you realised you flashing him a frown was a mistake when he said. “It’s hard to gain my score right? My advice is that you can stop trying to beat me and just enjoy the game.”

RAFAYEL

“Oh, finally you want to see if I have any secret contacts of girls stashed away in my phone? It’s gonna be disappointing for you my love.” The artist teases, lips curled into a smirk when he hands you his phone and you familiarly typed in the passcode. The phone clicked and it brought you to the home page, featuring a picture of you and him taken during one of his most recent exhibitions. The both of you stood next to one another, his arms around your waist and posed in front of the huge canvas of abstract art. His phone applications however, are not organised, just like his house most of the time when things gets too busy on his end. As an artist, he always calls it ‘beauty apparent within a mess’. He only owns one game on his phone and it is an RPG dating game. He is so down bad at missing you some times that he had to result to games to suffice his own needs of needing to be around you. The RPG dating game is the typical choice making game that affects the results of the game and he puts in an insane amount of money to make his character look as similar to himself and the crush in the game to be as ornamented as you.

Teasing him about his game choice drives him into a blushing frenzy. Denial at first but eventually succumbing to his own guilty pleasure when you started asking about the character models he had spent an insane amount of time to sculpt in game. “I just wanted to play this game whenever I do not get to spend time with you either it’d be in a different time zone or you’re just busy. A man has his own needs and I see this being a healthy way of missing you without bothering you on a daily basis.” His bashfulness reply made you smiled, for he is a genuine man afterall and he expresses his love to you in the weirdest yet most caring method. “If you see any clothes in the store, you can just buy it so I can get the in-game you to wear it. If they said that I do not have enough gems for the transaction just reload it for me yeah?”

ZAYNE

“Here. You can try and play it if you’d like.” He unlocked his phone with his fingerprint and handed it over to you. He has your fingerprint and Face ID registered into his phone’s security system but since you asked out of the blue, he might as well just do you the favour to unlock the phone for you, as he is a proclaimed gentleman. You asking for what games he has on his phone makes the all-time serious man cracked a thin smile on his lips, fancy seeing you embracing your childlike image. His wallpaper is a picture of you and only you, sat in the middle of a flower field with a smile as bright as the sun that hung above in the clear skies. You remembered this image, it was one of those days where a planned trip was interrupted and so the both of you ended up with spontaneous plans. This specific flower field being one of the result of the spontaneity. His home page is ridiculously minimal, with each page dedicated to specific apps. He has only two games on his phone; Tetris and Sudoku.

You were even surprised he has any games on his phone. When asked for the reason, the doctor who was focused on his paperwork paused for a moment and looked at you with bewildered forest-like orbs. “Such games are researched to be stimulating to one’s brain, it aids in relieving boredom and also exercise it. Statistics has shown that it helps in improving one’s logic sense, problem solving skills and pattern spotting skills. You should try it as you always seemingly can’t use your brain whenever you’re caught up in a situation that requires you to use one. It might teach you that brute force may not be the answer to all.” His strict tone made your gaze narrowed at him, taking his words towards the side of offence. But he does make a point as you are the one that is always going into his office with physical injuries. Furthermore, him spitting facts for educative purposes effectively diminishes your will to rebut him. “I have already taken the liberty to download the games I had mentioned into your phone, perhaps you can play them whenever you are free.”

[hedgehog-moss]

The story of my 3-year-long quest to identify a very rare bird

So I've been trying almost since I moved here to figure out what bird made this strange call that I sometimes heard near my house:

I tried to google "european bird that sounds like a laughing hyena?" and also to imitate the noise over the phone for a friend who once took an online bird course, but she had no idea. (Well, she said "that's a hyena." I said, "but I hear it all the time! Near my house!! Wait I'll do it better." She said, please stop making a hyena noise :(( and I stopped because the cats thought I was losing my mind)

Eventually I managed to record the actual bird call on my phone, and used a Shazam app for birds—but once again, no luck. The first app I tried just assumed it was being trolled and was like "it's you, isn't it? That's not a bird that's your stupid human laugh, you're making fun of me. I'm not an idiot"

The second birdsong app was more insecure and apologised a lot for failing to identify my bird. I thought it must be a rare bird! (The only uncommon bird I know of in this region is the vulture but it sounds less like a hyena and more like if elephants were birds.) Every time I heard the call (usually during the day) I opened the window trying to a) get a better recording so my app would finally have an epiphany, and b) see something flying off a tree.

At one point I was cutting brooms in the pasture and heard the call very loudly, as if the bird was just a few metres away, and it wasn't coming from the sky. I googled every possible version of "flightless (?) bird that nests in thorny bushes?" and found nothing, and started wondering if it was actually a mammal. But I couldn't think of any plausible local mammal that would make this sound—definitely not a fox or badger, who say WAOOHHH, and nothing like the polite whistle of marmots. We've got pine martens in the woods and I found a video called "mating pine marten scream bark" and thought oh!! that must be it! ... but then I listened to it and it sounded like yiiiaaaaaeeeeee, like if you stepped on a baby banshee's toe, nothing at all like the heheeheuruurhh of a hyena who just heard a good joke.

Anyway, this morning I was in the pasture and I once again heard the hyena laugh! I was standing by the moose butler tying up the hay net, away from any trees or shrubs and the call came from just behind me. I turned around thinking there was absolutely no way for the mystery bird to hide, it had landed on the ground behind me and this time I was going to see it!

And

it was HER:

Absolutely no doubt. I saw Pampy's throat vibrating along with the last echoes of the hyena laugh. All these years I've been saying that llamas are very quiet animals who just make cute little "hum-hum" sounds (I rarely hear adult llamas humming to one another, it's mostly for mother llamas to communicate with their baby and with me) and I had no idea that the shrieking hyena-bird I occasionally heard outside my house was Pampelune! I googled "llama alarm cry" and immediately found youtube videos featuring llamas making this exact sound. There was a stray dog nearby this morning that Pandolf eventually chased away, so maybe Pampy was the first to hear him and sounded the alarm. Maybe she uses this cry to tell Pan to go do his guard dog job, because he left the pasture and ran into the woods when she made the sound (while I was turning round like "aha! you can't run, hyena-bird!")

I wanted to share this discovery! I've had llamas for nearly 4 years and I'm only now finding out that they can laugh like hyenas when the situation calls for it. I feel bad for the poor birdsong app that I've repeatedly gaslighted feeding it a llama call and insisting that it identify this bird for me while it hung its head in shame like "I swear I don't have your bird in my database. I'm so sorry. I'm a bad app."

Llamas are fascinating creatures. Please experience their majestic alarm call again, and be alarmed:

[navstuffs]

"Private" Security

Pairing: Rookie!Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader

Summary: Your rookie cop boyfriend, Leon, protects you during your morning jog. Based on the tiktok by @johnny_tsunami_88.

Warnings tags: protective!leon, fluff, though the image says female jogger, this is a fic for gn!reader!!!, reader might be jogging/running/walking

Author's notes: heeey!! finally i have decided to write! i am a HUGE sucker for protective fics and when i saw this tiktok i HAD TO WRITE.

my leon's masterlist

"Leaving the house. Love you."

Your text message arrives around 15 minutes before the end of Leon's shift. It had been a relatively peaceful night in Raccoon City, except for a fight in the busy bar on Main Street at 3 am. Again, Leon had to separate two males who got involved in a fight because of a woman. " Every Saturday, he thought as he sent both men their way before asking for backup. At least they were inoffensive enough to get in their ride-share app cars without complaining.

Leon welcomes your text message with a smile. You tell him you want to restart your fitness journey at 5 am. Why? Because if you don't do it at 5 am, you will never compromise for the rest of the day, so it is a way to encourage yourself.

Of course, Leon was there at 5 am every morning to accompany you. There was no way in hell Leon would let you run alone. The streets could be dangerous, and Leon was always cautious about your safety, especially given the dangers of Raccoon City.

But today, the first day of his new schedule, Leon couldn't relax. He asked you to text him when you left the house, let him know if anything bothered you, and carry pepper spray, though you hated the idea of "arming" yourself. Leon couldn't fathom something happening to you.

With a sudden decision in mind, Leon turns on his patrol car with his lights on, but no sound. He has an appointment he can't miss.

-x-

Breathe, you tell yourself. Breathe deeply. Concentrate.

With your favorite playlist playing in your ears, you put one foot after the other, focused on exercising. It is your first day without Leon at your side as your loyal partner, and you thought you would feel bad, but sometimes being alone is the most peaceful thing that could happen.

You texted him as he asked you to put one earbud in (Leon begged you not to put both and to always be aware of your surroundings) and started jogging- slowly, at your own pace, with no stress. The sun wasn't out yet, and the birds weren't singing yet. Most lights are off in the houses in your neighborhood. 

This new fitness journey has always been about your mental health, a way to make you feel better about yourself. The fresh air, the feeling of having your body moving. It sucked that you had to be aware of your surroundings, but what can we do right?

Within ten minutes of your run, you notice the familiar lights of a police car appear behind you. You are surprised, turning your head quickly behind you and seeing the familiar car following you at a slow speed, escorting you as you exercise.

As you get close to the park near your house, far away from most houses, you hear your boyfriend's voice through the speakers.

"You are doing fantastic! I know you can do it, honey!"

You giggle, then continue and focus on your usual jog- almost a walk, but you don't mind. What matters is that you are feeling good about yourself. After you had enough, you walk toward the police car, breathing heavily, and Leon has his window open, a massive smile on his face.

"Hey, pretty." He looks so handsome, with the rising sunbeams illuminating his face.

"Hello, officer. Am I in any trouble?" You tease back, lying against his open window. Leon offers you a water bottle, which you gladly accept and drink. "Shouldn't you be off work already?"

"Yeah. Need to keep civilians safe, though. Especially adorable ones like you."

"I would be fine. My boyfriend told me to bring this." You raise the pepper spray in your hand, and Leon nods, happy.

"I am glad you are following your boyfriend's direction." Leon then stops and becomes more serious. "I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable."

"You didn't, sweetie. Are you telling me you will always escort me during my morning jogs?" 

"I will always keep you safe. Your safety is my number one priority, always." Leon replies, his tone very serious. You nod, saluting his seriouness. "Do you need a ride back home?"

"No, I will be fine on the way home. I promise." 

Since no one was around, you decided to return to the house after giving Leon a quick goodbye kiss. Looking over your shoulder, you saw the police cruiser still parked in the same spot, probably with the driver still keeping his eyes on you.

Leon watches as you quickly turn around to blow another kiss before disappearing. His face is red, and his heart feels fuzzy. He shakes his head, thinking it's better to bring the car back to the police station.

[greyias]

Twitterpocalypse -- The Final Countdown(?)

*cracks knuckles*

All right. I had thought we were done. I had thought about retiring these, as the last one got a bit out of hand. I had planned on doing other things tonight, but it appears, my people need me.

And this genuinely might be the last one (at least from me). So let's see if I can sum up what's happened since our last episode, and see how many screenshots I can artfully arrange together before Tumblr breaks.

On Tuesday, things were already starting to break.

Wednesday:

Twitter 1.0 is dead. Long live Twitter 2.0!

It's just like the nineties, because it's EXTREMEly HARDCORE

Then somehow. After that was when things started getting weird.

Not content to be the technoking who is responsible for the engineering of rockets and for the technology in the exploding cars that make them successful, he decided to become a lawyer too.

He's really good at it.

And then this is what lured me into a false sense of security at *checks timestamp* almost 5pm last night.

That's right. Less than three weeks at the job, looking at the flames spreading all around him, Muskhead decided "I did good", or you know. He got bored. Things were quiet this morning, I thought maybe they'd found the tranq gun again. Nope. I shouldn't have looked away.

Because suddenly on Discord everyone's asking me about my next Twitterpocalypse update. And I'm like "??? I looked away for like A SECOND". And open up the app and...

Reactions have been mixed.

I don't know what you guys are talking about. This is HARDCORE EXTREME. Like a Rob Liefeld drawing. Which is absolutely the way to run one of the most important communication platforms in the entire world.

UMMM

RIP TWITTER 2.0

🫡

Farewell big bird. You were hilarious. You were horrible. You connected so many people, you literally ruined so many lives. Just waiting for the official return of the Fail Whale, as we all know it's coming.

[hongcherry]

7+ M+ the little bird+ jk

oh you want to feel THE PAINNNNN 😭 we love angst here, so i got youuuuuu. tysm for sending in an ask! 💖 hope you like it!

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader G/AUs: Angst, established relationship, non-idol au TWs: None but ofc lmk <3 WC: 763

Prompt: “i didn’t do it. please, you have to believe me!” + distrust + the bedside of someone who doesn’t want you there

Build a fic! ✨

bts masterlist | main masterlist

this blog is 18+. minors do not interact. plz & ty! (ageless/minors/blanks blogs will be blocked)

Whoever said silence couldn’t be deadly was a liar.

Jungkook stares at you with accusation, round eyes now narrow. It makes your breath catch in your throat.

“I didn’t do it. Please, you have to believe me!” you exclaim.

Jungkook points down to the phone he had thrown on the bed.

“How can I when you’re the only one who has access to it?” he says.

Your eyes drift back to the phone. On the screen is a YouTube video of his now-released song. You recall how Jungkook was still working on it, trying to build his portfolio so he could pursue his dream job as an artist.

“I—I don’t know,” you meekly reply, tears pricking your eyes.

Jungkook snatches his phone and starts tapping his screen. You stand idly, hands fidgeting with each other as you try to think of what to say. You’ve never seen him so upset before.

“Jungko—“

“It’s fucking everywhere,” he huffs. “You must have had a party posting this on all these different platforms. Are you happy now?”

He finally looks up from his device. He’s furious, but if you look closely, you can see the hurt from betrayal too.

“Please, Kook,” you plead. “I didn’t do that. I don’t know how it got released. Believe me!”

“I want to—“

“Then do!” you almost shout desperately.

He shakes his head, more hair falling into his face. He stuffs his phone in his pocket and raises his arms to run his hands through his hair in frustration.

“I can’t!” he groans and spins to look away from you.

You reach out to touch his arm, but he turns and backs away. He looks at you in a way that makes you feel small.

“You don’t trust me?” you ask.

“I guess not,” he mutters.

Your chest feels tight with pain. Although you and Jungkook only started dating three months ago, you’ve known him for a year. A year of smiles and laughter and love. Now, it’s all crumbling down because of… You’re not sure. Your mind can’t function properly knowing he doesn’t trust you after all this time.

“I want you to leave,” he says before you reply.

“Jungkook, please,” you beg.

“No,” he says sternly. “No more trying to get me to believe you. It’s time for you to go.”

“Jung—“

“Enough, Yn.”

He storms out the door and comes back a moment later with your keys.

“I’ll pack your belongings and you can pick them up tomorrow,” he says and places your keys in your palm. He holds the bedroom door open and gestures out.

You stare at him, barely able to hold yourself up when all you want to do is fall to your knees and convince him you didn’t do it. You would never sabotage him or his career. You were rooting for his success.

Jungkook sighs.

“Don’t make me—“

“Okay,” you force out, not wanting to hear him finish his sentence. You will your legs to take one step, then another until you’re out his door without another word.

Your hands shake as you retrieve your phone and dial your friend and roommate.

“H-Hey, can you pick me up from Jung-Jungkook’s?” You hate how you can’t say his name without feeling your heart break.

“Oh, now? Did something happen,” Hyunji asks.

“Yeah, but I—I don’t wanna talk about it right now,” you say with a sniffle.

“Ah. Sorry, I can’t right now,” she replies. If she knows you’re crying, she doesn’t mention it.

Great. You’re stranded. 

“O-Okay,” you say.

The line goes dead quickly after. After a deep inhale, you make your way out of Jungkook’s apartment building while looking at the ride apps.

By the time you’re seated in your ride, your heart has become numb and your eyes swollen with tears. Your ride doesn’t say anything about your state and begins driving.

You gaze out, gaze glossing over your surroundings until something catches your eyes.

Hyunji’s car.

You watch as she turns into Jungkook’s apartment complex. Odd. She said she was busy.

Jungkook and his friends live in the same complex, so she could be visiting one of them. However, there’s a growing dread in your chest that’s hard to ignore.

You lean forward to speak to the driver.

“Sorry. I forgot something. Can you turn around?” You’re surprised to hear your voice stable when your body feels otherwise.

Maybe you’re just overthinking. Maybe you’re making an excuse to not leave.

But something in your gut says you’re about to get the answer you were searching for.

Who leaked Jungkook’s song?

©️hongcherry // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

[dragon-ascent]

Okay first order of business- Sini you’re a genius and I love reading your works, like I have a list of Tumblr blogs in my notes app that I check weekly (poor short-term memory so I always forget the names/authors of fics I like) and you were one of the first ones on my list.

Second order of business is the thought I had that I thought you might enjoy, it spawned into existence while I was reading the Morax Cuteness Aggression post and I want you to consider this:

Adeptus!Reader who’s a frequent subject (read “victim”) of his cuteness aggression or even just silly centuries-old-dragon affection. It makes it even funnier- in a cute way- that this could probably go on for several decades, given the average lifespan of an Adeptus; there’s no escaping being Zhongli’s favourite little beastie, you’re stuck with him (not like that’s a bad thing, though).

You’re meditating peacefully in Jueyun Karst, knelt in the grass as birds chirp in the trees, leaves rustling gently in the wind. It’s so calm, so serene, and you just feel so relaxed… and then all of a sudden the ground beneath you starts shaking- it’s an earthquake??? You’re too busy being shaken like a maraca to notice your God, several hundred yards away, watching you struggle to find your footing with a soft and smitten smile on his face.

Another day you decide to try something Madame Ping recommended to you, Tai Chi, and as you move gracefully, beginning to really get in the zone and get the hang of it, a stone pillar has just erupted from the ground inches in front of you; you back up to avoid it, only for another appear, then another and another. The next thing you know, you’re dodging stone pillars left and right- where the hell are they even coming from? When you complain of the strange occurrence later to Xiao, he chooses not to mention that Morax had been taking a walk in that particular area around the same time.

You’re taking a walk just outside the harbour- dealing with humans can be so tiring sometimes- and a patch of flowers catches your eye. You kneel down in front of them, gently running your hands across the soft petals and inhaling the sweet smell of wildflowers; you’re an Adeptus, after all, you’re connected to nature and the earth like nothing else. It puts a serene smile on your face and instantly brightens your mood, you pluck one of the flowers and put it behind your ear and- when did all this damn cor lapis get here?? You just blinked and suddenly there’s chunks of it poking out of the ground all around you. Who could have done that?

Maybe Adeptus!Reader has a tail of some kind, maybe part or fully dragon (capable of shapeshifting and just likes looking partially like a dragon? I don’t know). Reader gets a little nervous and antsy at a gathering, pulling their tail across their lap and wringing it gently in their hands as a self-soothing gesture, they gaze off distantly and somehow fail to register the sound of stone cracking. The culprit is Morax, gripping the stone table he sits at with such force that it crumbles beneath his hands because FUCK that’s so cute- do you even know what you do to him??

Just thoughts of silly silly Morax letting his heart get the better of him when his favourite Adeptus, his beloved reader, is just so darn cute.

Waaahhh thank you for reading and enjoying my stuff a lot!! ♡♡

My GOODNESS this is too cute!!! Smiling so wide reading this!! Morax being a big silly sweetie with the way he expresses his cuteness-aggression AH I'm in love with these scenarios!! The bit with the tail omg I can't!!

Eventually reader might connect the dots...but it could take a few thousand years, heh. Maybe they're savoring some lovely sweets they'd brought back from a trip to Fontaine, wiggling in glee at the flavours...and then a bunch of sparrows made of Geo materialise out of nowhere and take flight?? You stare at them in confusion, reminded of how Rex Lapis used to summon Geo animals too, and just then Zhongli of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor passes by, externally as calm as a leaf on still water.

[sebastianstanisahotmf]

Cuddles

Steve Rogers x Fem!reader

A/N This is one of the first fics I posted on my other account and I thought I lost it, luckily it just wasn't labelled. Comments, likes and reblogs are appreciated and all mistakes are my own so if you see any just comment them.

Summary You just got home from a long mission and you missed Steve (a lot).

DO NOT REPOST ON ANY OTHER APPS/SITES. THE ONLY PLACE THIS FIC IS ON IS TUMBLR.

Warnings fluff

To say you missed your boyfriend, Steve, was an understatement. You had just gotten back from a three-week long mission with Nat and Clint at an abandoned Hydra base to get some information on the winter soldier. Luckily, the mission was successful and there weren't too many problems other than a few traps that caught the three of you off guard since they were strategically placed.

However, you were missing Steve a lot. And although the mission was less than a month, and you had spent longer away from him, you were still missing Steve and his amazing hugs. 

You could see Steve waiting for you as the Quinjet landed. As soon as the Quinjet opened, you were running towards Steve as he opened his arms to welcome you. 

Steve groaned as he took the impact from you running into him and wrapped his arms around you as you wrapped yours around his waist. You both stayed like that for a while before you pulled back so you could kiss Steve in what felt like forever. 

“I missed you so much baby,” Steve said, breathless from the kiss.

“I missed you too Stevie,” you gave him a chassed kiss on his lips before making your way to the floor you and Steve shared with Bucky so you could shower.

After your shower, you changed into one of Steve’s t-shirts and some shorts before going into the living room on your floor and joining Steve on the couch.

“Do you feel better now honey?” Steve asked.

“Much better,” you responded with a smile.

Steve lifted his left arm to rest on the couch behind you as you moved closer to cuddle into his side and rested your head on his chest. You stayed there for a while as you watched whatever show was on the tv until the end credits were rolling. 

You looked up at Steve as he leaned in to meet your lips in a kiss filled with pure passion. You could feel butterflies in your stomach as your and Steve's tongues fought for dominance.

 

This romantic situation was then ruined by the sounds of retching coming from behind you. You turned around to see Sam and Bucky stood at the door pretending to gag at the sight of your and Steve’s affection.

“You’re just jealous that you don’t have anyone to kiss birdman,” you said to Sam which he responded to with a scowl.

“And you can't handle the fact that I've got a girl before you jerk,” Steve said to Bucky with a smirk on his face.

“Punk,” Bucky replied. 

“Anyways we came here to tell you two love birds that food is ready,” Sam said, rolling his eyes.

 

You and Steve stood up and proceeded to walk with Sam and Bucky to the elevator. 

“You two better not start making out in the elevator or else I won't want my food.” Sam said while crossing his arms. 

“Jeez Sam were not animals,” you replied.

 

“I dunno if I believe you y/n. The things I've heard says different.” Bucky said with a disgusted look on his face.

 

“Come on Buck, we’re not that bad,” Steve was smiling because he knew that you both weren’t exactly quiet in the bedroom. 

Once the elevator doors opened, the four of you walked out and into the dining room where everyone else was waiting for you. Everyone was sitting down and they had left four seats for you, Steve, Sam and Bucky to sit in. 

You sat down next to Nat and Steve sat on the other side of you. You put your hand on Steve’s thigh whilst you used your other hand to eat. 

“So y/n how was the mission?” Tony asked.

“It was alright I guess. Some of the traps were so fucking hard though.”

“Well Hydra treasured cyborg so I'm not surprised.” Tony responded. 

“Hey! Don’t call me that. At least I don’t have to dress up in a stupid suit to become helpful.” Bucky snarled at Tony. 

Tony just rolled his eyes before turning to Bruce to talk about sciency things that no one but them understood. 

After everyone had eaten, you and Steve excused yourselves. You held hands all the way from the dining room up until you reached your ensuite where you both brushed your teeth. After that, you got into bed while Steve changed into some sweatpants. 

Steve got into bed next to you and lifted his arm so you could rest your head on his chest. You leaned up so you could kiss him again before returning your head back to its previous position. You threw an arm over Steve's stomach and hooked a leg over one of Steve’s so you could be as close as humanly possible to him. 

“Is there anything you want or need, baby?” Steve questioned.

“Just cuddles from you. That’s all I need Stevie.” This made Steve smile.

You kissed his chest and then closed your eyes as you slowly drifted into a comfortable slumber while listening to the steady beat of Steve’s heart. 

“G’night Stevie.” you whispered sleepily. 

Steve only heard your comment because of his super hearing and he let out a quiet chuckle.

“Good night darling,” Steve said although he knew you didn’t hear it because of your breathing which signified that you were fast asleep.

Taglist: @buckys-wintersoldier, @nicoline1998enilocin

If you want to join my taglist just click on the link

Also, if you want to see the posts I reblog just follow @sebastianstanisahotmf-reblogs

[stuffeddeer]

rock band member dazai where he’s often in the media for drama between him and his previous ex band partner and you happen to run into him (anonymously!) on a chatting app. eventually his “personal conflicts “ he tells you about him and a ex friend start to align a lot with a certain famous singer’s tabloid scandals, so you bite the bullet and ask if it’s him or if he is just going through the same exact specific events dazai is. he ends up revealing his identity and you end up getting backstage tickets to his shows and he ends up just as obsessed with you as you are (chuuya is pissed that somehow that shitty dazai got a partner before him)

its u.

Dazai’s heart rate picked up at the two grammatically incorrect words that popped up in his notifications. You’d been so close to figuring it out for weeks; Was today finally the day?

wdym

Right: play dumb. There’s no guarantee you figured out who he is, so he just needs to stay calm.

Sure, week after week he’d tell you stories from his life that popped up in magazines and circulated around online the next day or so, always causing you to come back and flaunt it in his face that your favorite guitarist had done it “bigger and better” (even though the stories were the exact same). You frequently pointed out similarities in them (being him and… himself) to the point where he almost saved and told you several times, but something always held him back. Maybe he should just finally rip the bandage off.

A photo message came in. It was a screenshot - a screenshot of a picture Dazai had sent you. In the background had a bright red circle around something small. He zoomed in, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. Couldn’t you just type it out? What a hassle - oh.

Yeah, he should’ve listened when his manager told him to pick it up and display it properly.

The image was a bird’s eye view of his hand, flashing his fresh coat of nail polish and his rather messy wooden floors (and his cute orange halloween socks). Nothing too damning upon first glance. Sure, you’d mentioned that your favorite band’s guitarist had painted his nails the same color, but that was mere coincidence, right?

No. Because this lazy moron couldn’t put things away, in the top left corner of the photo - the area circled in red - showed an opened package with the platinum record his band was gifted for their most popular song. Why would he have that if not a member of the band himself?

He looked up from his phone blankly, staring at the package still nestled on the side of his room. The only difference from the photo is that it had been pushed slightly to the side since then, stopping him from tripping over it. What a stupid mistake; Dazai had always been much more careful than this (except when he wasn't).

dude

u let me gush to u ab URSELF????

im embarrassed

Dazai smiled. Well, at least things weren’t awkward.

It had been a few months and you and Dazai were happy to talk in person now that he didn’t have to hide his face. You’d been backstage at many of his shows, meeting his bandmates and spending time in person. It had honestly been so much fun, but sometimes Dazai missed the cat and mouse game he’d been playing when you were unsure of his identity - back when you texted him rumors and articles about his own life, saying how crazy it was that your favorite artist went through the same things as him.

He’d woken up earlier than he wanted to due to the myriad of calls blowing up his phone. “What..” He grumbled, not even bothering to check caller ID. “Who is this?”

“You asshole! You got a fucking partner before I did? And they’re hot, too! No way they settled for you,” Chuuya continued to grumble while Dazai put him on speaker phone, tuning him out. Whatever he was yapping about didn’t matter once he noticed a notification from you.

do u know this guy? he seems to be goin thru the same things u r…

A link is included, leading Dazai to an article with a picture of him and you. The first thing he notices is how smitten he looks with you, causing him to blush very faintly as he smiles to himself. Is that really what he looks like around you?

Rockstar Dazai Osamu Finds New Fling - Or Maybe More?

More, definitely more.

“Are you listening, asshole?” Chuuya shouted from his speaker. “How’d ya get a partner before me?”

Dazai smiled, saving the paparazzi shot onto his phone. “My height, definitely.”

[corvus--rex]

This got a pretty "meh" response on the bird app. Let's see how it does here. This is parts 1 & 2 as of right now

~~~

pt 1

Ever think that the tight clothes, gloves, tiny jacket that does absolutely nothing are because Keith believes he doesn't deserve care, comfort, softness? Lance hadn't, until he really noticed Keith's body language for the first time after the Blade trials. The tightly crossed arms, how he kept himself separated from everyone else even when in the same room, how he always looked ready to bolt at the slightest whisper. He kept everyone at arm's length, reinforcing that distance with sharp-tongued jabs and insults.

It got so much worse after Shiro disappeared. Keith's normally prickly at best exterior had been dipped in venom and no one could stop him from disappearing for hours in Red, scouring space for any sign of his missing brother. Lance couldn't even begin to articulate the relief he felt when it came time to have Black pick a new paladin. He didn't want Keith to be forced into a role he was in no fit state to be in and had already decided that he wanted it to be himself instead. Keith may be an asshole, but Lance cared about that asshole.

Lance reluctantly sat in the pilot's seat, running reverent fingertips over the controls. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, the silence of the cockpit holding the weight of a tomb until he finally let out a shaky breath.

"Hey, Black. I-I know you probably don't want me, but it's only me and Keith left, and I know what Shiro said about him leading the team if anything happened, but…I don't think he can do it, and I know I'm not the best option, but I'd rather it be me than him. He needs time to come back from this. He needs to be taken care of for once, and if this is only way I can do that, if it means I have to lead the team, I'll do it. I know I'm not as smart as Pidge or Hunk, but I'm stubborn as fuck and I'll get there. Just, please, let me take this on so he doesn't have to."

If the silence had been heavy before, now it was oppressive. Slowly, the weight became pressure, a focused pressure in the back of his mind, silence growing into a whisper. A soft purr rolled through the cockpit as the controls flared to life, filling the space with an ultraviolet glow.

Lance released the breath he'd been holding all at once. "Thanks. I'll give it my best."

He tried to get up, but Black's mental presence pushed him back down, the projected image feeling more real than illusory. He recognized the mechanical angelic wings from when Shiro had last flown the lion, but then the image shifted, a fully formed Voltron taking up his field of vision with similar but much larger wings. The feeling he got from Black was one of reassurance and a hint of things to come. With another soft rumble, the mental pressure dissipated, and Lance stood, Blacks head lowering as he walked down the ramp to the collective shouts and cheers from the team.

Lance couldn't help but notice one voice missing. Keith stood leaning against the wall but instead of the closed-off posture he almost always adopted, his arms hung limply at his sides, the shock on his face overshadowed by the tears of pure relief threatening to spill over. Lance shot him a small smile, one that said 'it's ok, I got you'. Keith understood, shooting one back in thanks as he wiped the tears away and slipped out without anyone else noticing. Lance watched him go, a realization just as startling as Black accepting him as his paladin hitting with the force of that very lion.

'Oh,'

Lance thought,

'Oh shit.'

He could barely hear the rest of the team over his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

'I think I'm falling in love with him.'

-~-

pt 2

Lance tried to make the adjustment period as smooth as possible, but they were all dealing with Shiro's loss, all grieving in their own way, although none quite like Keith. He tried to accommodate him as much as possible - Lance knew too well the pain of losing family - but he still needed to run the team through drills, both on the training deck and in space, forming Voltron again and again until he was confident they could do it in the heat of battle, especially with Allura flying Blue.

Outside of training, Lance was having a harder time keeping his newly realized feelings in check. Keith was more closed off than he'd been in a while, so Lance kept an eye on him as best he could, inviting Keith to game and movie nights in the lounge, including him in more conversations during mealtimes, but never pushing, and always respecting the answers he got.

Keith had actually started to relax a bit, accepting invitations when he was up to it sitting alongside the team but not always participating in whatever they were doing that night, letting himself get drawn into conversations even if he wasn't actively adding anything, just listening. Lance was starting to think they were making progress, both as a team and with their healing process, until Thayserix.

They'd lost Lotor in the gas giant, and Lance had to watch as Red took off beyond the shortened range of Black's sensors. He knew Keith couldn't possibly hope to track Lotor through the gas, and landed on a nearby mineral structure to wait.

He couldn't contact the team, and there was nothing to see within visual range, so he was left with only his own thoughts. Lance thought about how he was handling leading the team - he was honestly a little surprised they'd accepted him as Black Paladin, but when Lance brought it up just after training one day Allura had said that Black chose him for a reason, just as all the lions had chosen their Paladins. Both Hunk and Pidge told him that they had been friends for a while, far longer than they'd been in space, he'd been their pilot back when they were a flight crew at the Garrison, and while he may have been a little unhinged, they trusted him then and they still did. Coran echoed all of their sentiments, adding that he understood how hard it was to push forward while so far from home and that he was genuinely proud of Lance for continuing on in spite of everything. Lance nearly broke down in front of the whole team, instead accepting one of Coran's patented Dad Hugs™.

What Keith had said surprised him. He'd gotten pulled into what became the group hug with Coran on Lance's other side, and when they broke apart, he'd said quietly, for Lance only, "Shiro trusted you. He'd be happy it was you to fly Black. I trust you too. Black picked you and I'm happy he did. You're a better leader than I could be."

The soft, /shy/ look on Keith's face made Lance's brain short-circuit. He scrambled to come up with something, anything, even remotely coherent as he watched Keith walk out with the rest of the team.

The only thought that came to mind was 'How dare he be that cute?' Lance froze. 'Oh I am so fucked.'

[satirates]

Baghera Jones is her own person that can make her own decisions, thank you very much

I wasn't going to post this here because most of this discourse came from the bird app, but I've seen so much posts here (and in my notes) that I need to get this out of my chest. So this post is going to be TW: fandom neg about Baghera treatment by the QSMP community, be warned.

So, where to begin?

I keep seeing post about Q!Baghera being a bad friend to Forever, insulting her, saying she" hate him" and that it would be better if Forever only interact with Brazilians from now on. And I'm tired of this shit

" She will clearly always side with BBH whatever Forever do"

Oh, so we have a woman friend with two men, so of course she needs to take sides. Forbid her to have her personal opinions, it all about choosing the guy she likes the most, isn't it ? How people don't realize hoe misogynistic that way of thinking is !?

She literally connected on the server yesterday, learned that Forever wanted to build a prison to imprison players and that he pass a law that was specifically targeted at one of her other friends. Of course, she said that she will stand by BBH if this continues. She is trying to comfort him because from HER perspective, he's being targeted by unfair laws, and he is still (in lore) experiencing psychological problems. She didn't side with him, she chooses to help him. Because she can make decision with the information she has.

" But she is always against what Forever propose with the government"

I'm sorry, where were you when the election arc happens? Probably insulting Baghera because she dare have opinions and calling them "stupid" and "baseless" to the point she quitted I guess? q!Baghera was ALWAYS anti-federation. She joined the election so she could start a revolution. Even after she accepted to not do that, she always defends the point that having a president was a bad idea and that a council would be better. These ideas aren't new and she didn't stop having them after Forever got elected. It makes sense for her character to oppose to him, because she was never for a president in first place.

Yesterday, she didn't say she thought his idea of vote is stupid. She says that she doesn't agree with HOW it's done right now and that they can make it better. More representative of the people. But when she talked to Forever, he basically ran away when she started saying she didn't like it. Then they got interrupted by Bad. She hadn't the time to explain herself and people are acting like she said the idea(and Forever) was bad when she never says such thing. And even if she was totally against it, she would have the right to. She has the right to have a different opinion than her friends.

" But she is always hiding things!"

Clearly, you haven't watched Baghera's stream in a long time. What does she have to hide, I'm asking you? She never gets lore, and never has any in the past. Every time sometimes mildly exciting happen, she is running to another player just so she could tell them. In the election arc she was even sharing a ton of secrets with Cellbit, a guy she was convince was a dormant agent, just because he was on the server at the same time as her and she needed to share! She is only keeping secrets that other people told her. You know, like a good friend? Also, she sometimes forgot to say things right away, but cc! Baghera has ADHD, so it's not on purpose she sometimes forgets things. CC! Baghera said that canonically, her character trust Forever 100%, and she kept it that way so far. She just has no secrets to share right now because she isn't getting any lore.

" But Forever is always alone these days, and Baghera isn't appreciative of his work!"

Pshhh, I'm going to tell you a secret. You know who's alone 90% of their streams? BAGHERA JONES! She is in her castle alone, building. And why she spends the other 10% with people? Because she goes to people to check on them! Does Forever do that? No. He's in is isolation arc. We have never seen him check on what Baghera was doing or asking to do something together. Several times we've seen the players having fun while he was online, and he didn't join. It's not Baghera's job to go fetch him to play and help him when he isn't asking for it. And she always shows appreciation for what he is doing, just not in his face. Things you would know if y'all were actually watching her POV. She has Portuguese and English subtitle on at all times, you have no excuses. And why these type of comments are always directed toward Baghera and nobody else in the server that are doing stuff aside from Forever? Literally, I've never seen anyone else being call names because they are not tending to someone else need. Truly strange that it's directed at a woman, isn't it?

Baghera said in live recently that she has to take a break from doing lore with some of the streamers with the biggest community because she was getting hate every single time she was interacting with them. She didn't say names, But we all know who she was talking about. And I think it sucks she has to walk on eggshells around Brazilian players because of that. That she try to not be too friendly/teasing with Forever because of that. If you don't see her spending time with him as much, now you know why. They are still friend, but she doesn't want to deal with the community bullshit.

To conclude

She said that she wants her character to be recognized for her own achievement and not just be "Forever and bad third friend". And I'm also tired of this. She has the right to have opinions. She has the right to make decisions that contradict the ones of her friends. Furthermore, she isn't "Forever bad friend" or "BadBoyHalo emotional support woman". She is her own person. Stop acting like she's picking sides. Stop to infantilize her by saying that "she needs to think about the way she's acting". All her decisions make sense in universe. She has the right to defend her friend, she has the right to do her castle in peace, she has the right to not spend time with/help her brother if she doesn't feel like it. SHE has the RIGHT to exist at the SAME LEVEL as BBH and Forever, not as their accessory that is there to break them apart.

We have a lot more women on the server now that Jaiden plays regularly and with the new players. Let threat them like person, not just by the lenses of the men of the QSMP. Go watch their POV. Ask questions to people that watch them on main.

I'm so tired of this, it's being going on for months. I know the biggest part of the community is nice and love her. At least until she does something they don't like. I'm so tired...

[nomatterwhatnomatterwhere]

What a (Not so) Strange World

A.N: I guess we can say this is the continuation of the (Not) A Whole New World series (?); that was supposed to be a two-shots thing, but I found myself scribbling the follows below.

P.S: Being honest I don't know if I'm gonna keep writing this reader insert with the reader as Yuu or not. There are some scenes that would feel 'forced' with the idea I had in mind.

Plz send help to this perpetually indecisive soul

Next

To say that you were standing in front of the gates of a school wasn't entirely correct, actually.

It was more correct to say that you were already inside a school

You had come out of the usual forest – or at least to you it seemed the same as always – but this time you had found yourself inside a building, more or less, so this time the forest was inside a well-defined place, rather that on the edge of something, as you were used to by now.

(So ​​the forest was within school boundaries? Was it even a legal thing?)

Well, you were back, so there were two things to do: figure out where you were this time, and how far you were from Crewel or Trein and maybe let them know you were back in Twisted Wonderland and figure out how to get to them – so maybe things to do were a little more than two.

Among the various apps that Drizzy and Stacy had explained to you that were on your cell phone, there was a sort of digital map that could understand your position, you thought it was called 'Maps' – in your world people had made technology progress, but only in some specific areas far away from where you lived.

By activating it you hoped the place you were in didn't have any concealment spells of its location – back home, the Wicked Sea Witch's cave had been given this treatment to prevent other Merfolk from trying to play with her potions – otherwise you should have used the old method : walk until someone had found you and maybe explained where you were.

The Navigator let you know you were on the Isle of Sages, but didn't specify your exact location, so perhaps there actually was some sort of cloaking spell where you were.

So you had to go exploring…

Before "setting off on the adventure" you took a couple of photos of your surroundings - it didn't seem like a bad place, maybe you could post them on Magicam? – and sent them to Crewel

To: Fashionable Parental Figure

Morning, Hope you're having a wonderful day

[ Pic ] Guess I'm Back

Send Help, I don't know where I am

Thanks

After looking around for anything that might indicate the presence of a path that would lead you back to civilization, you walked down a path that seemed to have been formed by continuous passage.

By doing so you found yourself in a very well-kept garden: the hedges had been pruned and some of the bushes on the road were already in flower (mainly irises and daisies), furthermore you had noticed several lavender bushes.

You couldn't see any water sources, but in the background you could hear a stream running by. After all, you were on an island, it made sense that there were rivers that flow into the sea.

After a while you managed to see a castle in the distance, was that normal?

Maybe you were wrong. Maybe you weren't in a school at all, but instead landed in some royal castle?

Were you in trouble? You had probably crossed some border, after all royals are always protected – it wasn't entirely your fault that you were there, and furthermore you didn't seem to see any guards.

With a deep sigh you turned in the direction of the castle, you were far away but this place didn't seem abandoned to you so you should found someone by continuing to walk.

Your walk continued peacefully, occasionally you chatted with the birds that flew around you, and according to what they told you, this was actually a school but they were all busy with the Entrance Ceremony.

At one point you noticed a little squirrel following you, trying to keep up with you, so you stopped, asking him if you could be of any use to him, and he asked you if you could be his means of transport for a little bit

(The idea of ​​traveling on someone's shoulder had always intrigued him, but he was still a squirrel, his was a shy species but you definitely smelled of something too good not to give it a try, and like so many animals this too chipmunk trusted his sense of smell to decide whether or not you were a danger)

You were in the middle of an avenue with several forks, and at that point you were surrounded by more animals than you remembered - the further you moved towards the castle the more animals were curious about you, and they didn't seem to bother you. In their eyes you were quite comfortable – when they started arguing about which direction to take you.

(if Frau Grimhilde had seen you she would probably have made a disgusted expression, you being a magnet for animals reminded her too much of that concentrate of disgusting goodness and puking kindness that was her stepdaughter)

Once they had agreed, you followed their instructions, finally managing to see the castle in all its majesty: it was pure white with several towers, some of which were lookouts, which stood quite high

To your eyes, it reminded too much of the castle that Maleficent, the old Fae who had taken you under her wing - quite literally - loathed with all of herself. You didn't know the details because she didn't like to talk about it, but you knew that that castle had been the place of her decay as a Fairy, earning her the definitive nickname of 'Mistress of all Evils'

You had done some research – as much as you possibly could since there was little of this event in the history books – and you had come to the realization that the event the Fae were referring to was the Feast to celebrate the birth of Princess Aurora . You weren't sure of the precise historical period, but you knew it couldn't be too long after the story of Snow White had been disclosed - there were too many similarities for it to be mere coincidence.

From your humble point of view Maleficent was not entirely wrong in doing what she did: she was still a high-ranking fairy and not inviting her to the princess's christening was a rather serious lack of respect that could even lead to a war.

It was bizarre, how that castle so similar to the one you had in front of you, had been the scene of Maleficent's only defeat and even more bizarre was how no history text ever spoke of what other evils the former fairy had done - in reality none book available to ordinary people was about your mentor.

As you approached the castle entrance, you heard a voice and also noticed how different animals were heading in the direction the voice was coming from, and before you knew it you too were moving in that direction

You were standing next to a wishing well – it might as well have been a regular well for all you knew – and right there in front, surrounded by a bunch of woodland critters was a boy who might be around your age, or maybe he was even younger than you, you weren't sure.

What you were sure was how absolutely he must have been related to Snow White – or was a huge fan of hers.

Skin as white as snow and lips as red as a rose.

Even the delicate features made one think of her.

If for Lady Treimein and Mr Trein you had noticed a certain resemblance, but they were more than trifles, in this case you just couldn't help but think how even the boy's movements were too similar to how Snow White moved.

You were so caught up in your thoughts about the familiarity this stranger had with someone who wasn't technically supposed to exist in this world, that you didn't notice that the boy was watching you too

You were really pretty

He knew you were, the animals around him warned him that someone was approaching, describing you in outline

Their descriptions didn't do you justice.

You had your eyes fixed on him, but it didn't seem like you were looking directly at him, but the light had hit your eyes in such a way that they looked like two gems in how much they sparkled.

You also had to be very delicate in your movements, since if it weren't for the animals, Neige would not have noticed your presence so quickly.

Even the clothes you wore seemed to be specially made to flatter your figure; they weren't too elaborate at all, in fact, on someone else they would certainly have been rather anonymous, but on you…you really looked like one of those female leads from the romantic films Neige was starring in.

A little squirrel was perched comfortably on your shoulder! Those little creatures tended to move away from him too, and there you were in front of him, completely unaware of the wonder in his eyes

But as good as you were in that idyllic setting that was the garden of the RSA, as much as you seemed like a fairy in that situation, you were definitely in the wrong place

“Fairy-san. Are you lost perhaps?”

The Snow White look alike had spoken to you – even if at first you didn't realize he was speaking to you – and he had also tilted his head in an awfully adorable way

“Is it that obvious?” you chuckled back, making the boy across from you smile as well

“Well, it's not everyday you see girls like Fairy san in an all-male school like RSA”

The boy, who introduced himself as Neige, explained where you were, geographically speaking, and when you asked him if there was any way you could get to one of your guardians he said you should probably go to the HeadMaster, so to be able to use the Magic Mirror

“ But I think you should wait a little bit, Fairy san, at least till the opening Ceremony end”

Actually barging into a room during a ceremony that seemed quite important didn't seem like the most brilliant introduction you could make of yourself, so you had Neige escort you on a sightseeing tour, learning a lot about both the school and the boy.

Neige, in addition to being a second year at the RSA, seemed to be quite a famous person, if you had to consider all the times his cell phone seemed to receive notifications – the guy had set the bird trill as ringtone – but he seemed to be used to it, seeing that he hadn't finched even once.

"I'm not that popular" he was shaking his head quickly "I'm just very social"

(It should have been illegal how adorable he was in that moment)

After some wandering around the school Neige took you to what he told you was the presidency but before letting you go he asked if she could have your contact information and if he could contact you occasionally

(“I won't bother you too much” his face was slightly flushed and his eyes were traveling everywhere but on you “it's just that talking to you was…well…refreshing”)

After exchanging contacts with Neige - who had brought along a rather annoyed squirrel - you checked if Crewel had answered you, but nothing. In fact he too was a teacher, probably he too had to do with some kind of opening ceremony.

You hoped to hear from him soon

You knocked on the door three times before it opened.

You found yourself in a medium sized room with a huge glass window - the whole wall in front of you was taken up with that thing - one of the walls was taken up with several bookcases piled high with books, while the opposite wall was papered with photos of former students and various awards.

In front of the window was a large desk, in a decidedly modern style, compared to how ancient the castle itself seemed, and sitting in the chair was a decidedly elderly man dressed in blue who smiled at you

“Good morning, would you like some tea?”

His voice was very gentle and cordial, and as he spoke you saw not only one of the armchairs moving to approach the desk, but above all a tea set which flew quietly - minus the sugar bowl which followed its own rhythm - until it landed on the desk

After the tea was served

(“Would you like some sugar or milk?” “Mmh, two cubes, interesting choice”)

“Now, may I know who are you sweet child?”

You explained to him how you had found yourself in the forest inside the school, that you had no idea how you got there and that you were hoping there was a way for your guardians to come and rescue you.

All the while the Headmaster had kept his gentle smile, nodding at your story

"Interesting" he smiled at you closing his eyes "You know, Sweet child, there are a lot of ways students can get to this school, the most used are the carriages that cross the portals, but the forest you're talking about is itself a portal. In ancient times they called it the Enchanted Forest, but it has been in disuse for centuries now, in a way it looks like a sentient portal, which refuses to act as a portal, for many it is now just a legend of yesteryear. That definitely makes you an interesting subject."

And with that he crossed his hands under his chin

“You don't seem too shocked by this revelation so while I doubt you knew this little story, this isn't the first time something like this has happened to you, right? But that's a conversation for another time, I'm not going to force information on you that you don't feel like sharing. I guess you want to warn your guardians of the situation, would you by any chance have a name for me?”

When you gave him the two names, the man chuckled jovially

"I just find this situation very amusing" he didn't elaborate.

"You are very lucky Sweet child, they are also on this island, even if a little far from our position. I hope you don't mind staying here a little longer, feel free to ask the teachers or Housewardens to escort you to one of the guest rooms, tell them you are my special guest. I think it will take a while to get one of your guardians to pick you up"

Was this man locking you up in his school?

“As much as it would be an immense pleasure for me to have you as a guest, I doubt your guardians would be too pleased with the accommodation, although you are more than welcome to return whenever you like”

A little speechless for what had just happened, you thanked the man for the hospitality and turned -ran away - towards the exit

Once the door was closed Ambrose laughed happily shaking his head.

Dimensional Traspasser who crossed the Enchanted Forest even if they possessed dark magic, this was truly a story to be told

[belethlegwen]

General li'l update

So, things have done anything but slow down for me in the real world. To keep it as vague as possible, there's a chance I'll be losing my job within the next month or so, though we're all currently working on possible solutions to this. Hoping for the best.

I've already done my panicking and preemptive grieving. 18 years in a single career is a hell of a run for someone my age, and if it has to come to an end then I've made at least some peace with that idea.

Still though, working every day to find solutions. To fix things. To keep surviving. It's exhausting, I will not lie. We're doing what we can over here.

There's so, so much good to look forward to this year. These are just bumpy patches of road. And some of the bumpiest roads I've driven on have taken me to the best places I've ever been. I'll be alright. I know I'll be alright. I'll be more than alright, by the time this is all said and done.

Been doing more reading of late, which I've been loving. You all are putting out such amazing work and I love bouncing in to read even if it takes me 3 attempts and a couple of hours to get through a posted chapter. Lovely escapes, all around.

My sister turned me onto a game ("game" kind of seems like an odd word for it but either way) on steam called Spirit City: Lofi Sessions. You customize a character, you have a little room, it plays lofi music at you and you can poke at a few playlists, build soundscapes around it (rain noises, thunder, wind, birds chirping, crackling fire etc etc) while your character mills about in spots doing things as just a beautiful little vibe-generator. You can collect spirit pals to vibe with you. It's just really cozy and nice, I love it. Highly recommend.

It has an optioning for in-app journaling, and I've been meaning to get back into journaling regularly just for the sake of my memory and everything else. That's been a huge boon over the last 2-3 days. It's got a productivity timer, to-do list, daily task/habits tracker.

Anyway, I've been making progress on writing but it's slow, staggered. Hit a bit of a wall last night with some of The Stranding where I wrote 8.5 pages of a scene and then just felt... unhappy with it. I had clearly lost the thread of why I started writing it, and needed to walk away to see if a fresher mind could find a place to rewind to and pivot so I can salvage it, or if I'm just gonna carve the whole thing out and set it in the Cut Scenes doc. The other 20 pages I've got waiting? Fine. Good, even. Proud of those. This one, I'm proud of what I'm writing but again... just feels more like floating aimlessly and bouncing. It was clear I wrote it while heavily distracted or with gaps between focus, so it jumps.

I'll see what I can salvage. Can't promise an update and am avoiding making it feel like I'm 'back on schedule' just to find something I can reduce pressure from in my life for the time being. But: I love you all. The Kudos, the views, the comments, the everything. It means a lot. You're all great.

If I do any generic vent/vibe writing, not necessarily attached to anything, I'll consider sharing it here for y'all. You guys deserve a bit of fun and sunshine <3

Have a great time everyone, love y'all to bits <3

~ Belle

[duuhrayliegh]

hey babes can i request more seb x singer!reader? thank youuuu :)

slowing down

Neither of you says anything for a few minutes, basking in the uninterrupted silence. In the recesses of your shared apartment, you can hear the faint click of the air conditioning. Raindrops hit the bay windows in your living room and you just know that the sunrise is going to be beautiful. or in which you can't sleep

pairing: seb stan x singer!reader (that’s right, I'M FUCKING BACK FOR MORE BABY)

warnings: it's kind of angsty? idk i didn't mean for it to be but i guess here we are?

a/n: of course you can love! i'm in the world's worst slump but i refuse to let this stop me. i can honestly tell you that this will probably be really shitty but nevertheless here we are :/

pls like and reblog if you enjoy my work. which you can check out more of on my masterlist.

You're quick to dim the glow of your phone, the illumination too much for your dry eyes. You're halfway through your North American tour and have finally reached the break in your schedule. Three whole days that you're able to fully relax and recharge after two months.

Two excruciating months that you spent away from home, sleeping in hotel bed after hotel bed, chasing peace and quiet on airplanes, private cars, and green rooms.

Two long months without Seb.

It wasn't so bad at first. I mean let's be real, you both have busy lives. He's a leading Hollywood actor who has film execs fighting tooth and nail to cast him in their upcoming projects. And you're touring your second album, playing in venues both large and small, never stopping for longer than five minutes.

Until now. When you were first planning out your tour schedule with your management company, you insisted that there be a break halfway through the run. You wouldn't label yourself as a homebody, but you're something close to it.

You knew yourself well enough to predict when you could burn out. Much to the dismay of your team, you refused to even consider a tour unless it had the required time off built in.

You've watched too many of your friends have to cancel shows to recuperate, you wouldn't do that to your fans. People have real lives outside of concerts--it's not always sunshine and rainbows, but rescheduling shows was the last thing you were willing to do. Compromise wasn't an option for this decision, and thankfully they bent to your demands rather quickly.

What you didn't account for was how wired you'd be.

You made sure to plan your time off for after your New York shows. That way you would already be where Sebastian was and you could spend the break with the man you love.

You'd think your body would enjoy the break. Instead, it doesn't seem to realize it's on a break. So here you lay, doom-scrolling on your phone with the brightness turned so low you might as well not even be on it.

You closed and opened the same three apps for the past thirty minutes. A lump is beginning to form in the back of your throat and your eyes are starting to burn. You could feel your breaths coming in faster intervals, fighting against the exhaustion in your bones. The words on your phone screen start turning into just random letters, then blurring altogether, becoming one big glowing blob in your hand that your mind can't seem to fathom.

"Birdie?" Sebastian's baritone startles you back to reality. You quickly flip the screen into the duvet, stifling the dim object from his sleepy view.

His hand finds yours, running his fingers over your tense knuckles that grip the phone steady. He pries the device from your grip and places it face down on his bedside table.

"What's wrong, bird?" By this point, he's preparing for whatever you throw at him. Sebastian's front molds to your back, pulling you into his warm skin.

"Do you ever feel so exhausted that you reach the point that you're not tired anymore?" Your voice is soft, not wanting to disturb the peace and quiet any more than you already have. Sebastian's fingers are still tracing meaningless shapes on your knuckles as he hums against your bare shoulder.

Neither of you says anything for a few minutes, basking in the uninterrupted silence. In the recesses of your shared apartment, you can hear the faint click of the air conditioning. Raindrops hit the bay windows in your living room and you just know that the sunrise is going to be beautiful.

"Like, you spend so long waiting for something and then once you get it, you're disappointed?" You breathe the words into the void before you can stop yourself. It's only when you realize what you've said do you rush to correct yourself. "Not that I'm disappointed. That's not what I meant."

Sebastian hums in acknowledgment. Beneath the blankets, he tangles his legs with yours, wrapping you in the comfort you've been without for the past two months.

“It's just that my mind won't stop running. Like, I've done the damn thing. I planned the time off so that this wouldn't happen." Your breathing quickens again but slows as soon as Sebastian nudges your feet with his. Tears pool along your lash line, threatening to spill over out of frustration? exhaustion? pure anger? You aren't able to fully discern what you're feeling.

"I'm just so. damn. tired, Bastian." Your voice lilts into a whine at the end, but you both know it's to mask the chink in your armor. You shuffle to plant your face in his chest, attempting to shield yourself from the world outside.

Something you've learned about yourself is that you're so quick to give. The first to volunteer yourself. Always think of everyone else before yourself. It's a quality that people envy.

What they don't know is the toll it takes on the giver. The volunteer. The thinker. The envied. They don't know that you lay awake at night, exhausted beyond all reason with your mind racing when you try to put yourself first for a change.

"I don't know how to make it stop." He wraps you in his arms, burying both hands in your hair at the base of your neck. "I don't know how to make my mind quiet."

Frustration oozes from your every fiber and it makes you burrow deeper into Sebastian's hold. You squeeze your eyes shut, the action causing a throb to form in between your brows. You begin to match Sebastian's breathing, allowing your chests to rise and fall in sync. You rest your forehead on his collarbone and listen to the even beating of his heart.

No more words are exchanged. No more admissions. No more almost insults. No more dimly lit phone screens.

Just the rain. And the whir of the AC. And the matched breaths.

All the worries and troubles are pushed aside to be another day's problem.

For now, you'll rest.

--

please like and reblog if you enjoy my work. for requests.

for more of my work.

[deadboyfriendd]

Cochise Il: Mudsill

Summary: The morning after his first day reaps a certain morosity with it. After a gruesome shootout with a grisly outcome, he vows not only to protect this town, but you as well. In more ways than one. The second part of Cochise. Sequel to Nellie. 

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Outlaw/Doc Holliday!Eddie Munson x Reader, wild west/Tombstone AU!, Sherrif!Steve (he has a mustache), guns and gun violence, death of minor original characters, period-appropriate death, suggestions of lynching and public execution, drug use, angst, fluff, save a horse (the horse watches in this one), ride a cowboy, smut included, death of a spouse discussed in this, blood and wounds (gunshots), minor unintentional self-harm, unprotected p in v, creampie 

My content is 18+ Minors DNI

Word Count: 6.1k

Author's Note: This is for Drac <3 thank you for beta reading! And also for dealing with me going, “now what?” every fifteen seconds, and also for being my nepo goth mommy and being the only reason I get reads on this godforsaken app and also for indulging me in this fantasy and also for ominously looming over my docs because the performance anxiety makes me write better and more consistently. 

Find the series masterlist here!

Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscribed

In one self place, for where we are is hell,

And where hell is must we ever be.

The morning is nonetheless blistering, no qualms of early warmth and birds singing. Here, the sun meant silence, this world turned itself over to the night and reaped rest by the break of dawn just to escape its harshness until winter. Not all would make it. By five the blossom of the night-blooming cereus will have shriveled away, and by six the earth would begin to heat. 

The sun does not rest, only lies in wait. Remnants of it settling in the sand beneath him. 

He awakes with a groan and a pulling sting that blossoms across his neck and face at the first stale movements of wake. He could hear the vacant crunch of footsteps against gravel, hollow and softened by the fine sand beneath them. A shadow overtook him, one that granted a relief like the sour sting of white chocolate against the prevalence of melting.

“Well, good morning, Edward.” His eyes nearly crossed to look up towards you, attempting to make out any of the features of your face. They were too backlit from the sun and his eyes were still too sensitive. A basket for laundry sat firm against your hip, emptied. Above you, there is a line strung from one ironwood to the next, a washbasin several feet away with suds still running down the sides. 

He bears his senses, pulling his mind away from that celestial body it rested in the previous night. He tried not to think of your supple nature in front of him, the way your silken skin felt beneath his fingers or the way the ends of your hair tickled against his belly within his dream. It was up now, twisted into braids and tucked unto itself. 

His face and neck are red, you aren't incredibly introspective, and you can’t tell if it is a blush or the beginnings of a sunburn. You waited to wake him, washing and hanging your laundry before the break of dawn. He seemed tired, but leaving him out in the sun seemed downright cruel. You ‘d think of him in the same respects as the rattlesnake– the one who cooks from the outside in when it sits in the sand too long. 

You offer your hand to him, and he takes it. You are much stronger than your body implies, taking on the weight of him with a pull, hands calloused from housework and the general husbandry that comes from western living. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” You asked behind a grin, by now his eyes had adjusted and settled on the whites of your teeth and the upturned fat of your face. 

“Apparently I was the only one that wanted to.” He was sore from the ground, though he couldn’t quite tell if his tailbone hurt from the sand or the train to Tombstone. He watched you in stride, taking a few of your smaller ones ahead of him. 

You giggled softly, and it sounded like church bells. You looked over your shoulder at him, and he couldn’t bring himself to watch your eyes, instead, settling on the way the flesh of your neck folded at the crease. He counted the moles to ground himself,  “The west never rests, Edward.” 

He followed your stride for a few steps, his long strides becoming staccatos in comparison to yours. He looked down at his feet, avoiding rocks beneath him in his still-weary state and watching the dust kick up from beneath your heels to collect on the front of his boots. 

The gold of your earring refracted a light that brushed across your cheek, had Eddie not been staring so intently, he would have missed it. He’s glad he didn’t. “Steve already came ‘round this morning. Said a telegraph came in for you. Trains’ delayed ‘till ‘bout tomorrow.” 

The confession hit him like a shot to the chest, and he could help the dramatization of the groan that escaped him, “Christ.” 

“Got something important on that cargo train?” You raised a poignant eyebrow at him, more motherly in nature. It questioned the dramatics more than his personage. 

He shook his head, unable to stop himself from chuckling at his own bad luck, “Only my horse… and everything else.” 

“I see.” You nodded back in repose, turning your body back to face him. Your hands still clutching the laundry basket braced over your hip, “Well, let's see if we can’t scrape up some fresh clothes for you to wear then.” 

You reach your hand out towards him in invitation, his own forbearance of politeness and handshakes prompts him to reach out, though, you don’t seem to let go. You don’t notice the rouge of his cheeks or along the tips of his ears in schoolboy embarrassment beneath his sunburn. Your hands aren’t soft, not like the other women he’s touched. Your hands have been kissed with the calluses of men’s work. Ropes on horses and hands on guns. His memories reel back to your husband, the slack you were forced to receive in his absence. You wouldn’t have to pick up any slack on Eddie, he didn’t plan on dying soon. Not if he could help it. 

You use your hand like a reign, pulling him towards the wrought-iron staircase within the bar that led to your home. The staircase rocked with each footstep – a solid structure that seemed not-quite fixated to its endpoints. 

He looked around at the corridor, modest, but nevertheless a home. The dark wood on the floors closely resembled the mahogany excessiveness of The Grand Hotel, though, the expanse of it was limited to the flooring. A pale Mexican plaster covered the vast expanse of the walls, rounding the corners and archways into a smooth texture. 

He noticed the boots by the door, covered in dust and much too large to be your own. It filled in the gaps where the empty spots on the wall still lie bare, and where the second dining chair had remained tucked neatly beneath the table. Though this place resembled a home, it was not. Instead, it housed the ghost of your husband. He laid in bed at night next to the shell of grief that resembled you, the decanter on the table filled with tears of loneliness and guilt. 

You opened the thin door in the corridor, and he realized that all of your husband’s clothes had been moved here. He tried not to picture you pulling them out of the dresser they resided in, tried not to imagine the tears streaming down your face as you buried it within the fabric just to smell him again. Just to feel like he was close enough to touch one more time. 

The garments were well-starched. A white high-collar shirt, black vest, black pants, black cravat. He was a man after Eddie’s own heart, that was for sure. You excuse yourself towards the kitchen, allowing him open access to the dressing room to change. 

When he slipped through the door, loose on its hinges, he met your eyes– pressing and cold in nature. It wasn’t intentional, at least, not in the sense that your coldness was directed towards him. At an instant, your hands had found his chest, and he peered downwards to watch them, intently. It was a force of habit, righting a missed button and an off-set pattern on the vest. Once you corrected it, you laid them flat against his sternum.

He thought back to last night, the pressing warmth of your hands against his chest and the soft brush of your hair that tickled against his belly. He thought back to the purely pornographic sounds that resounded off the walls of The Grand Hotel in his dream. Though, you’d felt more human now, with the hurt in your eyes that dragged like a trunk you couldn’t rid yourself of. Your eyes carried a grief like granite, pulled from the quarry chipped into the mountain of your life and heavy on your soul. 

He thought back to what The Sheriff had said to him, about picking up the slack when your husband died. Who had been there when you were grieving? Surely the sheriff, but he had said it himself. You had your pick, but had never taken another lover. He wondered if it could be him. 

+

There is an ex-cathedra bass crescendo that reverberates against the dainty backing of tenor melodies in the bar at night, long after the dust has settled beneath the feet of the common folk. You never understood why the people here still chose to do their bidding during the day, when the sun casted an itching burn across the delicate cutaneous layers of exposed skin like lye. 

It was not Christmas, and yet you’d found pieces of words in fragments of memories beneath your breath as you hammered against the keys with clumsy fingers. You grazed your tongue against your bottom lip, still in search of the remnants of sugar from the dried Christmas fruits you’d been given as a child. 

There is a sombering solidarity in this aloneness, and in the way you no longer search for the feeling of your husband’s fingers against the cold ivory. It was just that now: cold. That emptiness would always linger, but that coldness of keys was now not for the absence of his warmth. They just were. 

Eddie watched you from the gap in the glass door to the parlor, smoothing the hairs on his arms down from where the low, deep notes rattled in his coccyx. He let the press of the mesquite against his back keep him tethered to the earth. He’d recognized the song like a ghost, Christmases past like bugs with needle-prick feet crawling up his back in repose. Where your fingers lay heavy against untuned, rattling keys, he found a softness. A delicacy in this world that was anything but. He saw tarantula legs in your spindles of fingers, light and silent as they crawled across ivory. 

There was not an inherent evil to the tarantula. Only existence. 

Your own existence was different here. You weren’t so on edge now that you figured you were alone. He felt guilty taking advantage of your comfort like this, but your softness radiated light out past the windows and into the sand outside in a warm, golden glow. Your lashes kissed in the corners of your eyes, nursing against the apples of your cheeks as you looked down in concentration. He wanted to smooth out the line forming between your brows. Your hair lay wild, splayed across your shoulders and roused from the removal of your hat. 

He adjusted himself against the door frame, the creak against the flooring from behind you sent you reeling upwards, the scratch-key a heavy hand against incorrect and out-of-tune keys. The man in black looming behind you like a shroud. You’d gasped without realizing it. He took a step forward, hand out in gentle appeasement as you whipped around, more startled than afraid. He registered it as fear. Your hand came to your chest in repulse, laying flat and tight against your breastbone. 

He takes a few steps forward, quickly closing the gap between you. The echo from the heel of his boot bounced off your body and you convinced yourself that the ringing in your ears was from that alone. 

“Woah, Nellie.” He’d said to you, softly, a pressing grin upturning crookedly at the corners of his lips. This was not the first time he’d used the horse moniker, and you’d figured this was not going to be the last. You’d blamed your own spooked nature at the way your breath did not fill your lungs completely and not the way Eddie’s warm hands felt as it picked yours up off of your chest, holding it between his two like a vice in apologetics. 

You squeezed his hand under your fingers, shaking it slightly in annoyance, “You scared me half to death, Edward.” 

“I didn’t mean nothin’ by it, ma’am.” He’d said in apology, once again, yet the smile pulled across his face further, pretty teeth grazing against the suppleness of flesh. 

You raised a brow at him, stern in nature, “When you smile something awful like that, it makes me think you did.” 

His smile stretched wider in his face, a laugh coming to fruition in his chest and exhaling through his nose and over your face, “I didn’t. Honest.” Not that you really thought that he did in the first place.

His hand left yours and found itself around your waist, where the tautness of your dresses stretched over the softness of your hip. He grasped for skin beneath the ruching of the fabric over you, warm hand splayed across your back. 

He was close — entirely too close to be considered professional or polite, but you welcomed it. You felt the breath from his nostrils, cooling against the bridge of your nose and dissipating across the crests of your cheeks. His lips parted, and the breath changed to warm. You could taste the tobacco that resided against his lips like the sugar you’d searched for on your own mere moments ago. 

His weight against your chest is foreboding, and even the bracing from his wide palm cannot stop the soft step back you take. The heel of your own hand presses against a random selection of treble keys and creates an awful, off-putting sound that makes him jump.

You can’t stop the girlish giggle that slips past your lips at the momentary terror that registers in your eyes. You don’t know if it is because of the immediate karmic justice or the fact that he was so startled by the noise he just listened to from afar. He looks back down towards you with a look that mirrored your own previous one, trying to force the smile off of his face down into a scowl. 

“I didn’t mean anything by it, honest.” You laughed between syllables, quickly pulling the key cover over the tops of the ivories and resting back against them.

“Well, you’re smiling something awful like you did.” 

+

The air outside was still. Too still. Like it lies in wait of travesty that happened in a near-constant turnstile. There is no one in the streets tonight, the party crowd gathered before the stage of The Grand Hotel to watch tonight’s opening of Faustus. 

However, Hell would not just be a frame of mind tonight. 

Michael ‘Mudsill’ Doten leaks off the steps of The Grand Hotel in a clumsy choreography of laudanum and drink, pupils blown wide in an opiate tincture waltz. The peacemaker across his hip a metronome of depravity waiting for the subtle fingertip of quarter counts to off-beat.

He howls at the moon, firing one, two shots towards it into the open air. It both draws townspeople towards and away from the scenery. Marshall Milt Kilmer steps off the balcony of The Grand Hotel haughtily, fumbling with the weapon holstered against his side. 

From behind the glass at the Whispering Sands, you stand at the sound of gunshots, hands finding your own weapon holstered beneath the folds of your dresses. Eddie’s large palm finds your shoulder, squeezing softly in a promise of not us. His other hand met the stock of his gun, tucked away in the shoulder holster against his waist. 

“Michael! Come on now.” You heard Milt start, sound clear despite being muffled by glass. The commotion must have been right outside your window. Eddie and yourself listened from behind the front door, air between your bodies stagnant in wait. 

Michael was slovenly, more so than usual, “Well, howdy Milt.” He stumbled, lame as a duck and ten times more disgusting. He wielded his pistol like a bomb with the pin pilled, a travesty in wait. 

“Alright, hand those over, Michel.” Milt insists, gun wielded in defense against Michael. The commotion has attracted onlookers that seeped from ant pile buildings in uneasy swarms – the Doten family leaking out and congregating in their own slovenly hive like wasps,  “Hand ‘em over!” Milt calls, more firm this time. 

Micahel takes a look around, then back at the County Marshall before him. His pupils are blown wide like dinner plates, “Okay, Milt, I’ll hand ‘em over. It’s only fun. Here you go.” 

But what are thou Faustus, but a man condemned to die?

There is a split second in which you can see the silver line between life and death, in which you can walk the plane between realms. There reaps a morosity heavy on your heart in the fractions of a second before a man’s life ends. It is entirely too familiar to you, and you crumble under the weight of it all. You don’t hear the crack of the gun, and you don’t see Milt’s body fall limp, but you see the breath that falls from his lips that keeps his soul on a lark. You try to catch it in your hands to force back into his lungs. Running towards his body felt like wading through sand, burning hot and suffocating around your waist. He was dead by the time your hands cupped around his shoulder, but the remnant of his essence felt like a sheet, drowning you in the great planes of the Gila.

“Milt? Come on now.” Michael said, the gun long dropped on the ground. He nudged Milt’s boot with his own, unable to process the velocity of the events that transpired just moments before. 

The sheriff is fast to rush Michael, cracking the stock of his own peacemaker across the crown of the man before him, the body dropping heavy against the sand to your left. Heavy, but still alive. 

Everything is heavy. The weight that you bear crouched beside Milt’s body, the way Michael slumped into the sand beside you, the crowd gathering around the sudden onslaught of commotion, and the hand against your back that undoubtedly belonged to Edward. 

“Get him off the street.” Steve ordered, sweeping his peacemaker around in a circle to fend off the feigning crowd, “Alright, back off.” He said, stern and loud. You’d have half a mind to be afraid of him when he was like this, if you weren’t still in shock. 

“Get a rope!” Someone from the town said, stepping down from a nearby patio. 

“String him up!” 

Edward could sense the rising tension, his other hand coming firmly around the taught expanse of your waist and pulling you back without giving you room to fight. You stumbled backwards in a stupor, hot tears streaming down your face emotionlessly. You were a stone. A puppet in his hands watching the scene before you unfold. 

Steve’s face hardened, jaw clenched under cold eyes, “Nobody’s hanging anybody.”

“He just killed a man–”

“And he’ll stand trial for it. Now, get back! Move!” Steve made sure the hammer was pulled back on his gun, serious as sin. You don’t think you’d ever seen him this scary before. You didn’t think he could be this scary at all. 

“Turn him loose.” One of the town patrons called from the building riot, stepping forward from the mass. He was a dirty cattle pusher that still carried the grime and anger of a juvenile foal. When Steve gave him a cold stare-down, he spoke up once more, “He said to turn loose of him.”

“I’m not, so go home.” Steve said again, face like a stone. 

Another voice emerged from the crowd, “I swear to God, law dog, you step aside or we’ll tear you apart.” He was an older man with a scraggly beard, wiry hair to match his wiry nature, a dust-alden bandana hanging loosely off the skeleton-physique. He wielded his own weapon, pointing it at the Sheriff. He knew he was outnumbered, but wouldn’t back down. You wanted to cry out, to let them lynch Michael. Anything to avoid watching someone you care about die again. Anything to avoid feeling that. 

Steve took a step forward, pressing the barrel directly to the forehead of the old man. Hard enough for it to leave an indentation on the skin. 

“You die first, got it? Your friends might rush me later but not before I kill you first.” Steve’s eyes had hardened from something stone-cold to something ablaze. His eyes reaped the anger of the afternoon sun, alight with anger. Anger from defiance. Anger for Milt. “You understand me?” 

“He’s bluffing, let’s rush him” The younger man spoke up, further trying to entice the crowd. Everyone else was at a standstill, tension so taught, that if that wire snapped, it could recoil and kill both Steve and the other man. 

The old man’s eyes went wide, hands splayed out in a half surrender, half heeding motion, “No! He isn’t bluffing. Don’t rush him.” He pleaded, as if he were staring death in the face. By the look of rage and hunger alight behind Steve’s eyes, you were sure he was.

This time, the sheriff went quiet, talking only to the man in front of him, “You aren’t as stupid as you look. Now tell them to get back. “

“Go on, now, get back.” The old man said, hands still upward in surrender. The statement was shaking and quiet, unsure and teetering between tears. “Go on!” He said, louder this time, a plea for his life. 

“He’ll kill me.” He whispered, a single salty tear streaking through the fine layer of sand on his face. The crowd dissipated back, the yelling and demands of public execution coming to a gelatinous quiet. 

Edward removed his hand from your waist, putting the pistol from beneath his arm. He pulled the hammer back without question, pointing it at the young cattle-hand that started this all. 

“And you, big boy, you’re next.” He spoke it like a promise. Like a prayer. If you hadn’t been magnified by everyone's slightest move, you would have missed the way Steve’s eyes met you before he nodded in Edward’s direction.

+

The train comes by way of Texas Pacific that next morning, long before the break of dawn, and Eddie’s steamer trunk and horse were brought by means of Butterfield’s Overland as the sun was breaking darkness over the horizon. 

You don’t remember the sun turning over the next morning until you are blinded by the sudden onslaught of neon orange through the glass of the Whispering Sands. Your eyes feel dry, juxtaposed to the salty wetness of the rest of your face and the bottoms of your dresses, yet you kept scrubbing. 

That wretched spot in the middle of the floor that was beginning to divot from where the wood had worn away, yet you swore you could still see the dark coagulants of blood pooling between the grain. Maybe it was your own. 

There, where your husband lay dying, where his final breaths sputtered and choked from the blood that congealed within his lungs and escaped the gaping hole in his sternum. Where the unnamed bandolero lay already dead in your doorway, an iron barrel burning a vicious welt into your leg as your hands desperately plunged into the red pool forming within your husband’s chest. That night, the blood of two men covered your hands. 

The only evidence that anything had ever happened here was the mild divot on the floor and the blood seeping from your skinless knuckles and you scrubbed salt over the ghosts that resided between these floorboards and in these stools. You haunted this place in search of your husband, who would no longer be found at the piano or behind the bar. You were a ghost in your own rights. 

That holy shape becomes a devil, best. 

The laundry outside needs tending, and you let the burn from your knuckles tether you to this mortal plane, the unpleasant stick of your wet overcoat sticking ad unsticking from your knees and making them raw as you mundanely schlop wet clothes from the washbasin and pin them to the wire. 

You hear Edward round the corner, shrouded in the shadow from the smoky black quarter horse. Though quiet as they try, the equine presence is never quiet. He clears his throat haughtily, though you fail to recognize if it was him or the horse blowing a hefty breath through large nostrils. 

“Ma’am.” He started. Your nose was still red and your under eyes were still swollen from the night before, though, he hadn’t originally meant to say anything. Watching a man die was hard, he knew that you would have understood that. You looked like you had died and been resurrected when you turned to face him, hair frizzy and half escaping the braid that hadn’t been touched since the days before tucked beneath your hat, clothes sopping wet and hands bleeding. 

“What did you do to your hands?” He asked, suddenly softer now. He reached down to grab your hands, the sides of his calloused fingers scraping the undersides of your own calloused palms. 

“Tending to the floors.” You said to him, barely above a whisper. You wouldn’t meet his eyes. 

“You're soaked.” He observed, taking a step back to look down the front of your buckskin overskirts. Without a doubt, your underskirt and bloomers clung to your skin beneath as well, no longer dripping due to the warming sun. 

He understood what was happening here, the frantic nature in the way you scrubbed the floors matched the way he scrubbed his own body raw from the blood that covered his skin. He knew your hurt all too well. 

You mustered the courage to look him in the face as he inspected the outer edges of your knuckles with a tenderness that nearly brought the tears spilling back from your eyes. It was a tenderness that you hadn’t known in so long. It was like you were witnessing him from outside of your own body, through the eyes of a spider. You could count the smattering of freckles across his nose– those akin to a schoolboy, endearing in nature. A scar of what no longer remained. While he looked for signs of infection and wood shrapnel and remaining salt, you looked at the near perfection in which his thick lashes brushed from his lid to his cheek and you understood that God may not have been forgiving, but He certainly was real. 

A fluttering, frantic desire builds in your core when you slot your lips against his. This feeling was not akin to butterflies and moths. It was frantic, more persistent. Like that of the hummingbirds that drank from the cactus blossoms in the cooler mornings. You watched them in silence, searching and flying entirely too close. Fast and sure. All you can feel is the dry cracking against softness as his startled breath dissipates across your own mouth. 

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled to him, only pulling a mere few centimeters away. You were not sorry, but you were polite enough to fake it. 

“Don’t.”

He drops your hands, fingers scrambling for purchase against the tautness where your vest is slotted tight over your waist, clutching at fabric in search of skin instead. You reel closer, your own hat bumping the brim of his and falling off your head. It is frantic and sloppy and full of an animalistic reproach. The heat of his skin and lips is no different from the staleness of the desert around you. Your hands find his neck beneath his hair, tacky and slick with the sweat of the already blistering morning. You wanted him to touch you with all of the resolve of your dead lover, you wanted him to take you here in the sand– to make you shake and shiver all of the worries that had plagued you to the bone. To feel close to someone was foreboding, if you wanted to feel close you would have taken another lover. To feel safe with someone was something you clung to like a vice, for you hadn’t been safe since you’d started out west. You buzz like the fat hummingbirds in the saguaro blossoms when he hikes you close against him, aggressive without malaise. Both of his arms entrap you tightly, almost too tightly to be comfortable, and keeps a crushing weight to keep your body taught against his. You whine, all woman and all desperation, as your back braces against the rough stone texture of the brick behind you, his leg slotting between your thighs and casting a desperate friction to fruition. 

When you gyrate your hip against his thigh, unsparingly, the broad planes of his hands cling to the valley of your back between your shoulder blades relentlessly. It brings you up towards him instead of away against the wall. You can feel the harness of his braced between your bodies, and it sparks a churning feeling deep in the pit of your belly. You are whining, his tongue funding purchase within your mouth and making a home there. He does not expect you to initiate the act, but when your hands slide down the tautness of his abdomen, and pull his shirt out from his trousers, he is surprised. 

There is no sense of familiarity to this. Sure, you had been married. Laying with a man was no unexplored land for you, but this franticness, this panic and desperation was all new. It was risky, and it felt dirty, though, not incorrect. Edward reaches up, pulling the hat off of his head, his fingers turning tender against your waist as he guides you off of the wall and downwards into the sand. It is firm against your back and pleasantly warm. 

You are not soft like in his dream. You do not whine or beg for him when you see all of him for the first time. You are relentless in undoing your own buttons and pulling your own shirt off. When you see him, he is tall and lean, there is a scarecrow-like nature to him, the gangliness clinging to him like the naivety of youth, though, just as you were all woman, he was all man. Even in his softness. He is soft in the way he looks down at you, and allows your eyes to skim over him. His awestruck nature forces you to resist the urge to cover yourself. 

You are not womanly in the way you disregard the messiness of your hair, the tear streaks that stick against your hot cheeks, or the sand that sticks to your back as he lays you down. When he reaches a hand up to cup the side of your neck, it feels like walking that tightrope again– the one that teeters between the plane of life and death. This was a part of you that you no longer had resolve in. You did not think you would ever feel something that resembled your husband again. Though, as you walked this tightrope, it felt like crossing the threshold of your upstairs quarters again. His hands around you like a foundation and his arms around you like walls. 

There is a change of pace as he kisses you this time, unhurriedly and exploring. Your fingers grasp around the thick bone of his wrists, thumbs tethering you to the ligaments of his wrists beneath his alabaster skin. There remains a tackiness on the front of your body from where the lye water soaked through your clothes and stuck to your skin, though, he didn’t seem to mind. 

Behind the fast-paced nature and desperation of it all, there lies a sticky sweetness. Dark and slow-moving like molasses against your skin. It finds a resemblance in his lips against your neck that trail your collarbones. If it were a different circumstance, perhaps, this would have been slower. He would have taken you like a lover, something that more closely resembled the way he wanted you in the hazy fog of The Grand Hotel. But you needed him here and now, and he would have to give you that. 

He does not have to ease your legs open with reproach like he had to do with the other girls, the ones who hid themselves away in meek shyness. Even in the open expanse of the desert before you, where, on the opposite side of this building, the town was awake and beginning to stir, there was a profound lack of meekness to your demeanor. There would be no begging from your lips, though, you didn’t need to. You had him already. You had him as soon as you’d met him. 

He found himself tepid, “Do you still want me to–” 

“I want you to fuck me, Edward.” You’d insisted, and he was taken aback by it. Though, he was not going to deny you. Not with the sweat pooling between the valley on your breasts and your curls sticking to your forehead. He wouldn’t have denied you anyways. 

“Okay.” 

His voice was hoarse, moan rumbling low and deep from the confines of his lungs. He is rushed with feeling– taken aback by the crudeness of your language and comfort with your raw body. This was not what he had dreamed of, but rarely was it ever. The thrill changed quickly from an excited tingle to an aching need. His thumbs pull the hair from your face as he braces himself on his elbows, the soft smattering of hair on his stomach becoming flush with yours. 

You didn’t understand before the softness that lay just beneath the layer of dust that settles over him, the roundness to the apples of his cheeks or the plush of his lips. Though, now that he was this close, it was hard not to miss. His eyes, though you had only ever seen them dark and angry, were now a golden honey against the tan backdrop of the desert. It resembled the waning orange of the sunrise you were too forlorn to watch this morning. 

There was a resounding softness in his promises of, “I’ll take care of you” that reverberated with the building of tears that formed against his pretty lash line, though, not enough to break the surface tension and spill over his even prettier face. 

There is a relentlessness in the way he rocks his hips against your core, desperate for the feeling of closeness. A single tear buds against the corner of his eye, dripping down his pretty red cheek and on to your chest. You had half a mind to swipe it away with your thumb. He fucks you languidly in the building spring heat. The tackiness of your skin turns to a slide as he works you. 

His hips stutter in a pistoning motion, punching a moan out of your core that was not frilly or rehearsed. Please don’t stop’s resounding off of his chest like prayers. He is a little rougher than before, your back arching in pleasure. His voice is broken as he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses to the column of your throat. 

There is a certain inevitability, like you both know that this will need to come to an abrupt end, and you whine with the filthiness of it all. There is a soft soreness that buds from within your core, and from the way he cries out, whiny and vulnerable, you know he feels it, too. There is a reciprocating cry that resounds from both your mouths, and you know he has reached his apex when he spills inside of you, moving slowly and then coming to a stop. 

You do not stop him when he drops a heavy head against your sternum, instead resulting in pushing the hair away from his face. His head bobs up and down on your chest as you breathe, his own falling out of sync with yours. There is a resounding whisper that leaves his lips, and you are not sure if you are meant to hear. You reply anyways. 

“Solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris.” “It is a comfort to the wretched to have companions in misery.”