#I know the whole area is supposed to be green but it gives me blue vibes

[leftdestiny-posts]

Sometimes my legs are made out of iron and stone. And I can only look as everything passes by

[dduane]

Rehoming Holmes

So here's the current interesting problem: You discover that you're in the process of writing a cozy mystery. And then you discover that the lead sleuth in this work is going to be Sherlock Holmes. (And of course Dr. John Watson is there too.)

The big question, therefore, becomes: when?? And secondarily, where?

(Inserting a break here, because this goes on a bit. Caution: contains World War I, railway lines, chronic illness, unrealistic attempts to be a hermit, and [what did you expect?] bees.)

Wedging the cozy mystery concept into Sherlock Holmes's schedule is inevitably going to be a dicey business. Because Holmes, in Canon—right up until after the events of "His Last Bow," in the collection of the same name—is a really busy man... too busy by far to be doing the cozy thing, be he ever so retired.

We don't know a whole lot about the details of that retirement except for what Watson tells us in the preface to the collection.

The friends of Mr. Sherlock Holmes will be glad to learn that he is still alive and well, though somewhat crippled by occasional attacks of rheumatism. He has, for many years, lived in a small farm upon the Downs five miles from Eastbourne, where his time is divided between philosophy and agriculture. During this period of rest he has refused the most princely offers to take up various cases, having determined that his retirement was a permanent one. The approach of the German war caused him, however, to lay his remarkable combination of intellectual and practical activity at the disposal of the Government, with historical results which are recounted in His Last Bow.

Now, when you start looking into some other details surrounding this retirement, there are some points that immediately start to be troublesome. ...Well, for me, anyway.

First of all: that picture up at the top is of the house to which he's supposed to have retired. Various Holmesians who've looked into the situation over the years seem to have settled on this spot, in East Dean in Sussex. And it has acquired a blue plaque stating that that's where Holmes wound up... which is all very well.

But for the purposes of my own storytelling, I've got concerns.

We know from various comments dropped by Watson in Canon that he and Holmes haven't seen each other for some years, and that Holmes has been living "the life of a hermit" on his farm with his bees.

What I'm not sure about is how you live like a hermit in a house which is (and then was) sited directly on the East Dean village green, with the village pub right across the green from you. It seems like a spot poorly chosen, and maybe chosen in haste. (And how big can that "farm" be, with the village around it? Honestly.)

There's another problem, though, that it astounds me never occurred to Arthur Conan Doyle when he initially chose to retire Holmes to that neck of the woods. The whole area near Eastbourne, sited as it is really close to the south coast of England, is (relatively speaking) an exposed and frequently chilly, damp area routinely exposed to coastal gales. Having just retired Holmes there, that Doyle could then in the next sentence describe Holmes as suffering more or less chronically from rheumatoid arthritis gives me all kinds of trouble. Because I sure know what my arthritis does to me in cold damp weather! And the first thought I had on reading that line in the wake of wanting to tell a story realistically based further along in Holmes's retirement period was "Wow, I need to get him the hell out of there."

Yet here, as has happened at other happy writing moments, I find that a kindly Universe has put what I need right into my hands. Because I invite you to take a closer look at that blue plaque on the house in East Dean.

Some Holmesian who was a stickler for accuracy (or tight adherence to Canon) refused to date this retirement any further along than 1917, the date of "His Last Vow." The story itself implies that Holmes and Watson—now reunited in (covert) government service—have much more to do after '17. And then, after 1918, when WWI ends... then what?

Well, soon enough Holmes goes back into official retirement. But he does it somewhere else... because Watson's with him again.

First of all, the location changes because that little house above might have been all right for one "hermit". For two men, though? They'll need a bit more room... and maybe also a little more privacy.* ...It should be noted here in passing that as of LAST, Watson appears to have mislaid the wife mentioned in BLAN ("The Blanched Soldier"). Is it his first wife or his second...if there was a second? Who the hell even knows, at this point? (The jury's apparently still out on the subject, and some investigators suggest there might have been as many as six wives. ...But I digress.)

Anyway, the ensuing scene between Holmes and Watson, as Holmes's Doctor explains to him how things are going to be from now on since they're together again, is so easy to imagine that I'm not sure I need to do anything about it in the cozy mystery proper but allude to it in passing. The laying down of the law. The inevitable "I don't need to be coddled" bullshit. The suggestion that Holmes, for a comfortable retirement, needs a house that's sited in better-protected countryside.

Also, due to the inevitable fallout from Holmes's wartime exploits, they're going to need a house that's sited closer to a decent rail connection to London, with a telegraph office just a mile or two away if Holmes needs it... or if a client needs to come see him. (And there also needs to be a handy telephone exchange, annoying though it'll be that Lestrade's or Dimmock's successors can just ring him up and whinge at him.) Holmes will also need a place where he can at least get a decent wireless signal so he can listen to the concerts from the Continent, and closer. (Because if I wind up positioning the cozy in 1922, as seems likely, this newfangled thing called the BBC has just come online: and canonically speaking, Holmes has always been an early adopter.)

Most importantly, though—so Watson will claim—Holmes needs a rural home that will be better for the bees. The Eastbourne area isn't really great for them, being too exposed and right on the borderline of where bees can locally thrive. Fifteen or twenty miles north or so would be far better, putting less stress on the bees and therefore being less likely to skew Holmes's observational results. With this outcome particularly in mind, the two housemates-to-be can look around for a house sheltered by the Downs' low hills, with nearby fields of arable crops—very likely hops—where the bees can do their work untroubled by excessive salt air. And Holmes can tend to and study his charges in more clement conditions that won't periodically leave him immobile and in anguish due to a less forgiving climate's exacerbation of his arthritis.

Will Holmes buy into this hilariously misdirected argument without realizing (or admitting that he's realized) what Watson's trying to pull? Who can say. Holmes, as per usual, is going to put up every kind of resistance he can to avoid revealing that this outcome is absolutely what he wants more than anything. Watson, of course, will receive Holmes's fake-cranky temporizing with his usual patience... and start writing to estate agents in villages convenient to the main north-south rail line. And on the day Holmes cracks and formally agrees, Watson will telegraph the most likely agent and set up a viewing for a week or so later... of a house something like this.

The frontmost part with the peaked roof is an oast house—a structure originally built for drying hops. They're scattered all around the Surrey countryside, many having been converted over the decades into parts of homes. This one stands in the middle of a small farm where Holmes can rent out the farm's surrounding grazing to other local farmers, while attending to the only part of the farm that really interests him: the hives. And the upstairs windows, in good weather, give onto a view through the surrounding rolling countryside, downhill toward the distant haze-veiled blue of the Channel.

So now I've finally nailed down what was missing before I could really start work: a decent spot where a "a tall, gaunt man of sixty" (well, sixty-five, at this point) and his shorter, slightly stockier chronicler can settle in and get comfortable, and take on the occasional cozy case on which the fate of the free world doesn't depend. ...Insert here the sound of a writer sighing with relief.

And now back to plotting.

*But there could be all kinds of reasons for that. :)

[captain-sharkie]

Alright everyone, it's time, hope you guys enjoy a little introduction to this AU! if theres any questions the ask box is open!

Reblogs are appreciated <3

Story under the cut!

Chapter One

Warnings, Blood mentions,

Word count : 1321

A whirring noise hummed through the trees at the lamb rushed past, running through Silk Cradle from a large spider, clutching their arm as they heaved, their legs aching as they ran

Normally the lamb could easily vanquish such a foe, but now? Absolutely not

the spider sprayed acid around the ground in front of the smaller lamb, stopping them in their tracks as the creature cornered them, others following suit

The lamb took a deep breath, closing their eyes as leaves rustled, the wind howling through the area as footsteps approached,

louder, and louder they got before screams rang out amongst the arachnids,

the lamb slowly opened their eyes, wincing before letting out a sigh,

“You always show up at the perfect time…” The lamb sighed, a chuckle rumbling ahead of them, as an ax wielding goat stood before them, wearing a light blue poncho in contrast to the lamb’s red one,

“At least yaint dead Lambert.” The voice spoke, a slight accent to it with a smile.

“What can I say? Wouldn't be the first time.” Lambert hummed, wiping the dirt and blood off,

The two were silent for a few moments before giggles rang out of their mouths,

“What’re you even doing out here?” The goat hummed, the ax slowly fading back into a small crown on top of their head,

“Gathering silk, we’re all out back at the cult.” Lambert spoke bluntly, summoning a large back, “I was just on my way back home actually… before all that.” Lambert huffed,

“Mind if I come along?” The goat asked, the small teal eye of the crown atop his head stared down at the lamb

“Uh… sure!” Lambert shrugged, holding out their right hand,

The two of them closed their eyes as Lambert chanted softly, the dead, gray grass around the duo lit a flame in a white light, consuming the two of them before it burned away, leaving a black ring in the ground beneath where they once stood.

Now stone laid beneath them, a pentagram drawn in dried blood beneath their feet as lush green grass ran through the area

The goat took in the sights, as Lambert took a breath, “Feels good to be home.” dragging the goat forward as worships greeted their leader,

“Oh by the way… goat?” Lambert hummed, The goat just tilted his head, “What's up?”

“Actually… What do I call you? you never told me your name exactly.”

“You never asked.” The goat sighed

“Oh, well…”

“She normally calls me Kidd, if that helps at all.”

“Who?” Lambert raised a brow,

Kidd just groaned, pointing at the crown upon his head as Lambert just scratched their head, mumbling an apology,

“Uh… Leader?” a small dog follower walked up to the two,

“Yeah? What's wrong Thorm?” Lambert asked, concerned.

“Leshy threw poop at Hans while you were gone.”

“Again? Seriously?!” Lambert groaned, Kidd just put a hand over his mouth, holding back a laugh as best as he could.

“Go ahead and wait for me in the temple. I gotta go put Leshy in jail… again.” Lambert groaned, running off

“Oooh-kay.” Kidd hummed, walking towards the temple, watching the grass beneath his feet move as he walked, the sun beamed down, bright and shining amongst the land.

The door to the temple swung open before Kidd could grab the door’s handle, two small kids running out cackling like witches, one chasing another with a wooden stick, dressed as the Lamb.

“Well that sure says something about this place.” Kidd chuckled, walking into the temple and sitting down on the ledge by the podium.

“Hmph… you would think his chosen vessel would be… better at this whole cult thing.” spoke as the crown flew off of Kidd’s head, judging the temple they stood him,

“Madame, give them a break.” Kidd sighed, watching the crown closely inspect the place, “Lambert is new at this whole cult thing.”

The crown huffed, “Suppose so.” floating back, resting in Kidd’s hands,

“Still, glad to know I’m better than him at raising a leader.” The crown chuckled,

“Madame, what happened to being nice? I thought you were kind to mortals and gods alike?” Kidd teased, chuckling as the crown scoffed,

“Child, if you ever catch me being kind to anyone from The Land of The Old Faith, Behead me.” The crown’s eye closed, the ethereal voice from it huffing,

“Who are you talking to?” a scratchy, deep voice spoke from a dark corner, The crown was quick to shut up as Kidd let out a soft bleat,

A figure in white and red robes stood, face veiled with a dark silky fabric,

“No one of importance to you, Death.” Kidd huffed, placing the crown on their head once more,

“Oh, but I believe it is.” Narinder spoke, crouching down as he stood next to Kidd, “Who is brave enough to bad mouth me, as well as Lambert?”

“Curiosity killed the cat y’know.” Kidd spoke, grinning as they looked at Narinder.

Kidd rolled his eyes as the door to the temple swung open, Lambert groaned, walking in, itching their head,

“Oh, Good to finally see you two getting along!” Lambert smiled, as Narinder stood,

“Guess you could say such, Lamb.” Narinder walked off, leaving the temple.

The Lamb sat in the middle of the floor, tossing the bag of silk on the floor, as well as four needles,

“Why are there so many?” Kidd pointed at the knitting needles on the floor,

“Thought you’d wanna help!” Lambert smiled as Kidd shuffled onto the floor, sitting across from Lambert, picking up two needles.

The two of them sat on the creaky wooden floor, turning silk to fabric, and fabric to carefully woven shirts and robes.

“Sooo…. Kidd, why did you wanna come back here with me?” Lambert hummed, raising a curious brow,

“Well…” Kidd sighed, setting the needles down, taking off his crown and gently placing a few shirts on top of it.

“I… I need to speak with you, Narinder and the Bishops.” Kidd sighed,

“Oh! I could go get them-” Lamb quickly got up as their hand was grabbed by Kidd,

“Later, now is not the best of times.” Kidd spoke, motioning to the crown next to them shaking around under the shirt.

“Oh?” Lambert furrowed their brows sitting back down, “I will be here all night.” Kidd huffed

“I do not want any prying eyes watching.” Kidd huffed, removing the shirt from on top of the crown as it flew back on his head.

“Oh! wait let me go check something.” Lambert hummed, standing up as they ran outside before Goat could ask what.

As the door closed an ethereal voice cracked from the crown once more,

“What was that?” spoke the crown,

“What?” Kidd asked, sewing a shirt together.

“What you did!” The voice cried, “Communication was put on pause and I wish to know why Kidd!”

“Oh bah! I only set the crown down briefly!” Kidd groaned, “Must of been interference again, I am rather far from home, aren't I?”

“...You are correct about that…” The voice mumbled, the crown’s teal eye squinting at the goat, circling around their head, yet Kidd held a carefree expression.

“...The eye of this crown makes you look so much larger than you are.”

“What-?”

“You are so small you could fit in my palms! yet you look grown in the eye of this crown.”

“Madame. I’m not a baby.”

“Yet you still are my little Kidd, are you not?”

Just then, the door to the temple swung open, Lamb stood in the light once more,

“Five!” They chuckled,

“What?”

“Five hours until my disciples and I have dinner, you wanna join us?” Lambert spoke,

The crown’s pupil went up and down in a nodding motion,

“Yeah, sure thing Lambert.” Kidd huffed,

“Good! I’ll make extra food then, for now…” Lambert spoke, sitting back down,

“Let’s finish these clothes.” Lambert smiled.

[simp999]

A New Home Ch. 40

Various! Splatoon Manga x Skilled! Isekai'd! Reader

Wc: 1.2k

Back to the Start! Previous Next

Once you got back to the helicopter, you realised Goggles was missing. Ah, that's right- the octo expansion. Well, you supposed you'd leave the story alone for a while, focusing on your own.

Before leaving Grizz.co, you offer a half-hearted wave at Mask, taking off.

You wondered if you lived up to his expectations in that Salmon Run shift. Did you do okay? Did you get enough eggs for his expectations? You shook your head to rid the thoughts.

Where else to go but to train to distract yourself? To the training area you went. You picked up a random weapon from Ammo Knights, given you didn't have your main. You figured you'd practice with something new.

You trained until your legs were ready to give out. You couldn't get every word of that interaction out of your head. They hated you, didn't they? What made you think you could be friends with your favorite characters? You finally sat with your face in your hands, struggling to hold back your tears. What would you do now that you were homeless, and overall stuck in this world? Try to find a way back?

Did you really want to go back?

It was now a choice between which world was worse.

You had more potential here, you thought. Until offishials found out you existed. Do police even exist here? There was still so much to learn. You still had a few friends, such as the blue and green team for the time being. Maybe... maybe even team Monarch could be considered friends. You didn't have to pay taxes, you didn't have anything under your name. Would you get hunted down if the wrong people found out you existed? Would anyone you knew attempt to protect you?

You were stuck in more ways than one. Stuck in this world, stuck in your own head, and stuck between choices to be made. Your head swiftly quirked up as you heard someone enter, but you were too late with your reaction time.

Your reaction time was too late. Now that's rare. How out of it were you?

Oh cod, out of everyone that could have shown up.

You were face-to-face with a Yellow-Green squid who stood shocked in front of you: puffy, red-faced.

You looked so... tired. Vulnerable.

Sad.

He almost just wanted to pick you up and hold you. But that wasn't something his mind nor body would allow. Not with all the questions racing through his mind. Blunt as ever,

"... Why are you crying?"

You stayed frozen. You didn't want your voice to crack, but you felt like he deserved any information he asked for. Your voice came out small and broken.

"I don't know what to do. I'm stuck here, where everyone wants me gone."

His brows furrowed.

"Who said they wanted you gone?"

It was a genuine question. He was honestly confused. And maybe a little angry. He wanted to pummel whoever had told you that... maybe.

You sniffled. "The S4?" You moreso questioned than stated.

He blinked. He was no good at what he was about to do, but he'd try. For you.

He quietly sat down beside you, an awkward distance away.

"We never said that. We just needed some time to think it over. "

He wasn't sure where to go from there.

He really was bad at comforting.

You sniffled again and toyed with your fingers, looking away from him. You brought your knees up, and placed your temple against them, head facing away from Rider.

"Did you guys figure it out?"

"I don't know about them, but I'm still unsure.

I can tell you mean no harm, though."

You paused. You turned your head to lazily face him, gaze still anywhere but on Rider.

"What are we?"

And suddenly he remembered all those moments with you.

All the ones where you wouldn't catch his blush, or the way he stayed quiet, afraid of messing up his words. The way he grew jealous of Stealth during all the times you'd innocently tease him.

It was happening the whole time- he admired your and your strength, he thought.

He thought.

The way he wanted to battle you so badly, only so that he could see your strategies up close, of course... No. That wasn't it. It was only so that he could see you up close.

He shook his head. What was the question? Oh, right.

He knew you meant it platonically.

"I don't know."

But he didn't.

He didn't know what he wanted now. He was stuck, too.

"Can we figure it out together? I don't like being away from my favorite people."

He sat, gazing at you with thoughtfulness.

"That sounded selfish, I'm sorry."

He shook his head.

"You're right. I think they might appreciate some better communication."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You felt so small, figuratively. You once again felt like you just landed here, and you were somehow face to face with your idols.

Except this time, you were unsure if your very own idols hated you. Even more anxiety-inducing than your first meetings with each of them.

You all sat around a table, but it felt like they were all staring at you. Did they expect you to speak first? Your head stayed down. Aloha had his chin in the palm of his hand, Army was writing something down, and Skull was sitting silently, glaring? Maybe just staring, you couldn't tell. Mask had yet to show.

"Cod, can someone please say somethin'? M' gettin' bored!"

Thanks Aloha.

You mumbled:

"I'm sorry."

A combined hum from Rider and Army came.

"I'm sorry for hurting you guys. I know it must be tough to understand everything- hell, I don't understand half of it. I'm sorry for putting you through this."

You spoke between small sniffles and with slurred words. There was so much to think about, and you had no reason to drag them all into it. You should've just continued to avoid them... you were such a mess. You sighed deeply, tears pricking your eyes. Not this again...

"You need sleep."

You lazily tilted your eyes to face Army. He could tell how drained you were by all of this.

"Yeah, sweetheart. We're not mad, so don't get that image in that pretty lil' head o' yours. We just need time ta digest, y'know?"

Aloha reached his hand over to yours, rubbing his thumb over the back of it. Rider sent a small glare his way.

"I imagine you needed time when you first got here, right? Something like that," He continued off of Aloha's statement.

Skull nodded, and was the first to stand up after realising what Army had said.

He guided you to his room, with a quite massive bed- you weren't to surprised, given how tall he is - he kind of needed it.

"Are you sure?"

He nodded- it was rare of him to take naps during the day, why was this an issue for you? He didn't understand.

"Alright then,"

You looked back at him before carefully getting cozy in his massive bed.

"Thank you. So very much,"

You smiled. You were so tired, even he could tell. He nodded again, pointing at a jar next to his bed. It was a candy jar. Aww. Your smile warmed. You'd have one when you woke up, you thought.

.

.

.

May. 29. 24

Next Part

[liillyliilly]

Sirens (I Don't Know Why)

hirugami sachirou x reader words; 1187 synopsis; the one who grips your heart and never gives it back- unrequited love despite your best intentions

There was just no easy way to say it. She had seen him at his worst before ever seeing him at his best. He was frozen in place, and she was holding a bag of groceries for her mom.

“Don’t you dare walk away from me.” She dropped the bag of groceries, and was holding his right hand, carefully looking at the marks.

His knuckles were cut open from the stone fence he had been dragging his hand on. Blood dripped from each of the fingers to the center of his palm, bits of debris were settling into his hand. He just kept swallowing thickly.

Hirugami Sachiro was deeply embarrassed, and it was just increasing with each moment as she cleaned up the injury with her water bottle. So there they sat, on a curb barely big enough to be called a ledge, a puddle of water at their feet.

“I know you have something to say to me.” She picked through her backpack, looking for a band-aid. She had already put her aquaphor on his hand to create a protective seal. Handing him the McKesson brand bandage, she continued, “I don’t want an excuse though, I want the truth.”

L/N Y/N was in his same year, but a different class. Hirugami only saw her during assemblies, school festivals, and occasionally some volleyball games. She had only just seen him for the first time today, recognizing the uniform he was wearing as one from her school.

He still hadn’t said anything to her, letting silence awkwardly filtrate throughout the space they occupied. She ate a cookie she had packed for an emergency snack and offered half of it to Hirugami. He politely declined.

Her watch beeped, letting her know she needed to definitely be on her way home. Before she left she turned around for one final parting comment, “I’ll be around, come find me when you wanna talk about this whole thing.”

Guilt was ripping into Hirugami. When he had sat at the dinner table, his mom asked what had happened to his hands, he said nothing had happened. But he thought back to L/N, the way she could see right through his calm and cool demeanor.

The next day he looked for her at school, scouring the halls when he had a chance, and going to volleyball just slightly later than usual. After volleyball was when he had found her.

Sitting on the pavement in the center of the courtyard, drawing using chalk. Her school skirt was coated in hand prints of various colors, her cheek had a line of green going from her ear to her nose. The sunset was making her hair shine and glow.

“Ready to talk now, I suppose?”

“I guess.”

“Grab a stick, I need to finish this before I leave school.”

She was playing music from her phone as it rested on her bag off to the side from the central chalk area.

“I blame my hands.”

“For what exactly?”

“For making mistakes, you know, when playing volleyball.” Hirugami filled in a circle with his blue chalk following her direction. “If I can’t do it right then I’ll be left behind.”

“Are you even having fun? Playing volleyball? If you really enjoyed it then wouldn’t your thought process be that mistakes are a part of getting better?” She disclosed, and told him that that was just her viewpoint and if he thought she was ridiculous then that was okay.

“I don’t think I like volleyball.”

“Then quit it.” She was bold, honest, and genuine. Everything he wanted to be, and it was all encapsulated by this girl who escaped from his hands.

“I will, my friend told me the same thing. I’ll stick it out through high school, and I’ll work hard. As soon as it's over though, no more volleyball.”

Their chalk drawing mural was of a large bottle of water, he finally saw it once they stood up and stepped back. She said something about the school asking her to do something refreshing, he thought she was hilarious.

They talked a few more times throughout high school. He wanted to get up the courage to approach her more frequently than he ended up doing. He had however gotten her number, and he always texted her when he saw a new mural at school, it was always a chalk mural. Goldfish, a Starry Night rendition, birthday cake, her last mural was a graduation cap and a diploma scroll.

He had his veterinary school acceptance printed out, the school would put him through a regular zoology and biology blended major, and then he could go straight into vet school. He wanted to show her, if only he could find her. It was becoming a recurring theme that he could never find her despite how hard he had looked.

That night he texted her once again, asking where she had gone.

My boyfriend took me out for dinner! Sorry!

Boyfriend?

Maybe it was his fault for getting too attached to someone who he had only talked to a few times. He didn’t even really know her. Then why did he feel like curling up into a ball and sleeping for the next twenty-four hours?

He saw her only three more times in his life.

Once during college. It was at a party and she was dancing with her friends, swinging her hips to the beat of a Rihanna song. She laughed and sang along and Hiragumi thought he could officially die happily at seeing the sight before him. They chatted for a bit when the party died down, when the music began to shift from EDM to slow jams. She had broken up with her high school boyfriend, but she hadn’t wanted to get back into dating because she wanted to work on herself.

Once during his career as a veterinarian. She was with her younger sibling, their dog had gotten sick and she remembered that he worked at a clinic that was just barely out of the way. The dog just needed a few shots and the puppy was good as new. She had just started dating again, but was only going on dates that her friends set her up with, wanting to try out blind dating for a bit. Hiragumi kept biding his time until he felt like the moment was right.

Once, and the final time, was during a class reunion, the 15 year reunion. Everyone had settled into careers, had families or marriages to look after. Hiragumi still hadn’t found his person, he was just waiting for her to realize he was the best choice. She brought her fiance to the reunion. The fiance was just superb. Hiragumi stole a bottle of wine and sat outside with Hoshiumi.

They passed the bottle back and forth between them.

“Love isn’t real.” Hiragumi looked up into the sky, running one hand over his knuckles. Echoes of his past were stinging again. Making their presence known.

“Maybe it isn’t.” Hoshiumi concurred. They finished the bottle in half an hour and never went back to the reunion.

[sleepdeprivedsimp234]

~More incorrect quotes while I figure out my next fic revolving around my fav WTTT characters~

(Also, Y’all are amazing 🥲🤍✨)

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Gov: What are you planning to do? 
Florida: Hey, now. "Planning"?! Do you KNOW who you're talking to?!

============================================

York: WHY DID YOU KILL HIM?! HE COULD HAVE HAD HOPES AND DREAMS, HE COULD HAVE HAD A FAMILY!!! 
Mass: York- Bud-
Penn: It- it was just a rat-

============================================

Cali: Isn't it weird that people kill mosquitoes just because they're annoying? 
York: D*nm, if people did that to each other, Mass woulda killed me years ago.

============================================

Loui: Slash gamemode creative. 
Jersey: Dude, this isn't Min- 
Loui: *starts levitating*

Jersey:

Jersey: OI MASSHOLE COME GET YER THING-

============================================

York: God has let me live another day and I'm going to make it everyone's problem.

============================================

Cali: Oh gosh I wish I got more sleep I only got six hours! 
Tex: Six? I only got three! 
York: You guys got sleep? 
Gov or Loui (you decide), comes stumbling out of their room and grabs a jug of coffee before saying: What year is it??

============================================

Gov: A mouse! 
Loui, pulling out a knife: Go back to where you came from or I'll stab you. 
Florida , pulling out a frying pan: It'll make a nice meal! 
Mass, giving the mouse cheese: You deserve a treat, little guy. 
York, gasping with pure joy in his eyes: It's Ratatouille! 
Cali: His name is Remi, dumb*$$. 
Gov: ...I was going to say to just trap it and throw it out the window... what is wrong with you people.

York: No, I wanna keep im’!!

============================================

Gov: Ok, first of all, what the f(speaks sleep-deprived coffee bean)?

============================================

Loui: Fellas, I gotta know for science. Is the opposite of red green or blue? 
Jersey: Technically a mix of green and blue? 
Loui: So blurple. 
Mass: That's implying you're mixing blue and purple. 
Loui: Would you rather have f(speaks New Orleans) bleen? MOTHERF(speaks New Orleans)IN’ GRUE? 
Jersey : You were confusing before but now I'm scared.

============================================

York: Don’t worry, I know exactly what I’m doing. Everything is going to be fine! 
Tex: How can you still say that? 
York: Because sometimes, when things get tough, denial is all we have.

============================================

Teacher: Your little brother was in a fight. 
Connecticut: Oh no, that’s terrible.
Mass and Jersey: Did he win?

============================================

Florida: It's locked. You got a lock pick? 
Loui: Yeah- 
Tex: *kicks in the door*

Florida: Or y’know what? That works too.

============================================

York: BWWAAAAAAAAAA! Oh, you hear that? That's the wrong opinion alarm. 
Jersey : That is not something you actually have installed. 
York: Sorry, say again? I couldn't hear you over my alarm that YOU SET OFF with your WRONG-*$$ OPINION.

Jersey: …. You are so lucky that Masshole is sleeping or I would’ve made you eat those words.

============================================

York: *chokes on something* 
Loui: Jeez, Yorkie, don't die on us. 
York: Don't tell me what to do, I'll die whenever the he// I want!

============================================

Jersey: Loui seems really zoned out. Whaddya think he’s thinkin’ about?

Mass: I can't imagine what Loui is planning. But I can tell you two things. We won't like it and it won't be legal.

============================================

Cali, shooing York away: Can you go be depressed over there? You’re bumming out my whole area.

============================================

York, very high and disoriented: I wasn't hurt that badly. The doctor said all my bleeding was internal, that's where the blood's supposed to be!

============================================

*York drunkenly wanders around the house and Tex is drunkenly giggling* 
Cali, completely sober: *sighs* Well, looks like it's just me and you against the world, Jersey . 
Jersey , going to their room: Nope, just you. *shuts door*

============================================

Jersey: How would you like your coffee? 
Loui, trying to be dark and broody: As dark as my soul. 
Jersey : Got it, one cup of milk coming right up!

============================================

Mass: What’s it like being tall? 
Mass: Is it nice? 
Mass: Can you reach comfortably for the cupboards? 
Tex: We live in constant fear of the short ones who, in my experience, will climb 4 chairs, 2 boxes, a small coffee table and 6 oddly placed stools to get what they want. 
Loui: It was one time!

============================================

Connie: York, can I speak to you for a minute? In private. 
York: Ooh, someone's in trouble. It's me. I don't know why I did that.

============================================

*Tex is casually searching around the room* 
York: Hey cowboy, what’re ya lookin’ for? 
Tex: My will to live. 
*Loui walks into the room* 
Tex: Oh, there it is. (Loui is pretty much everyone’s will to live tbh)

============================================

Mass: We all have our demons. 
Mass, grabbing York: This one’s mine.

York: 👹👹👹

==========================================

Mass: Okay, what does A stand for? 
Loui: Arson. 
Mass: Aw, you're so good. Okay! B! What does B stand for? 
Loui: Barson. 
Jersey: *laughter* 
Mass: What stands for C? 
Gov: Commit arson. 
Jersey: Oooo. Mass: D! 
Loui: Don't come near me, I'm going to commit arson. 
Jersey: *more laughter*

============================================

Loui: I am darkness. I am an power. I am your worst nightmare. I could kill a man in more ways than you can imagine. I am the night. I am fury, I am a weapon, I am- 
York: A doll. 
Florida : A cinnamon roll. 
Mass: A sweetheart. 
Loui: 
Loui: ...stop it. IM NOT BLUSHING SHUT UP-

============================================

Loui: So, what's it like living with Mass? 
York: He once referred to sand as "heterosexual glitter." 
Loui: ... 
York: I both love him and hate him so much.

============================================

York, looking over Tex’s shoulder: You can draw? 
Tex, stopping what he was doing: You can speak?

============================================

Loui: Sometimes I like to place my hands on my enemy’s cheeks, look into their eyes... 
Loui: ...And violently jerk their head until it snaps. 
York: ...That took an unexpected turn. 
Mass: So did their neck.

============================================

Texas, popping up behind York: *cocks gun* Go to Bed. This is no longer a request, This is now a Threat.

York:*turns in his chair* Just put me out of my misery please.

============================================

Penn: You disgust me. 
Jersey : *eating a kitkat sideways* I realize this and don’t care.

============================================

Jersey : I think we should have glow stick juice injected in our bones when we're born, so if we break our bones, we get a fun little surprise. 
Tex: What's the surprise? 
Mass: Blood poisoning.

============================================

[spacedykez]

 [CLICK]

ARCHIVIST

Statement of Michael Jones, regarding an unusual trip on xyr friends’ boat, in the Puget Sound near Seattle. Original statement given November 4th, 2007. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

Statement begins.

ARCHIVIST (STATEMENT)

I suppose I should start this off by saying I’ve never really believed in the supernatural. Never was one for ghost stories. I was quite the avid denier in fact. A man of science, I considered myself. I guess what I mean to say is, I wouldn’t have believed my own story if I hadn’t lived through it. But I know what happened, and I am completely certain it was real.

It all happened around Christmas, when I was visiting up north in Seattle for the holidays. The whole family was gathering at my grandparents’ house, and we were all planning to stay in the area for several days to celebrate. Now, I’m not sure how familiar you are with Seattle, given that you’re British, so let’s just say hotels in a populated city at Christmas time aren’t exactly cheap. So I phoned an old friend to see if I couldn’t crash at their place for a couple days. They, surprisingly, had no issue with it, and so the morning of Saturday the 22nd I was boarding a plane to Washington.

My friend was a fairly well-off individual, as one has to be to afford owning a home in a city like Seattle. I took a bus to clouds street and walked the last few blocks to their door. Luckily for me, the lights were on, illuminating a variety of pride flags and stickers taped to the windows, including a small braided bracelet made with purple, white, and green threads. I recognized it because I’d been the one to make it.

The door opened before very long at all, and I was greeted by a familiar face, dyed pink-purple-blue hair framing clouds face. “Mike!

“‘Allo, Karl!” I grinned. I would have waved, but I couldn’t exactly do that when I had a suitcase in one hand and my beanie clutched in the other. I don’t exactly know when I took it off, but that wasn’t supernatural, that was just my typical impulsivity.

Karl smiled back and stepped back to let me inside, the slight jingle of beaded bracelets audible. “Great to see you again, Mike!”

I expressed a similar sentiment, then quickly inquired about my sleeping arrangements. Karl led me into a rather nice room, furnished minimally with a single bed and desk- a nice bed and desk, mind you. The walls were an oddly mesmerizing sky-blue with hints of white, almost like clouds. I later found myself staring at them for hours, tracing their faint wisps with my eyes.

“Make yourself at home!” Karl told me welcomingly, before heading out to give me some space, which I appreciated. I’m a pretty outgoing guy, but it had been a long trip and I was tired. I proved this approximately five minutes later by falling asleep fully clothed atop the bed.

The next morning, I woke up to be informed of two things. First, Karl now had a girlfriend, Raven, who was incredibly nice and who I got on very well with. And secondly, the two of them wanted to know if I’d like to go out boating with them.

Since most of my family wasn’t due to arrive until Christmas Eve and would be staying for a bit after Christmas itself, I could easily spare the day to go out and see the city, or at least its waters. I told Karl and Raven as much, and the two were thrilled. Within the hour, I was fed a hearty breakfast of pancakes and herded into their blue Subaru, headed off to go boating.

I can’t say I’m entirely clear on where exactly we were, since I wasn’t really familiar with the area then, and I still am not now. But I do know that Karl and Raven seemed quite confident, and it couldn’t have been much past eleven o’clock when we motored out into the Puget Sound. The sky was bright and sunny, not a dissimilar color to the walls of the bedroom I’d stayed in.

It was altogether quite a good trip. Raven pointed out buildings on the Seattle skyline- did you know the Space Needle really isn’t that tall compared to Seattle’s skyscrapers? Karl smiled and assured me that they’d heard this fact a thousand times before, but didn’t complain as Raven told me all about the city. Karl’s expression as cloud looked at Raven was full of the fondness that one can’t help but smile at.

“Mike, you still like salmon?” Karl asked me once we could no longer see the city. We were still surrounded by forested shores.

“Yeah,” I nodded. I’d always enjoyed seafood, and the seafood here was pretty good, in my humble opinion. We ate a hearty lunch of fish sandwiches and Lay’s potato chips, which I quite enjoyed, and it was clear Raven and Karl did as well. I closed my eyes contentedly, feeling sunlight warm my body as I ate. The only things in the world that mattered at that moment were the gentle breeze, the bright sunlight, and the distant calls of seagulls. We were far enough from the city that I couldn’t hear many cars, so I didn’t think much of the relative silence.

I don’t know how long I sat there, savoring the good weather and relaxing sounds of the waves lapping against the side of the boat. Some time later, after what could have been anywhere from minutes to hours, I opened my eyes again to the sight of blue. Endless azure skies stretched above us and sapphire water surrounded our boat, which felt like a tiny speck in this great blue world. The only break in the various shades of blue were the white clouds high above.

“We should be getting back, I think,” Karl told me. They were right; I had planned to head to my parents’ house that night, and I didn’t want to worry my mother by being late.

“It’s so nice out here,” I remarked to Raven as we motored through the waves, the blue never fading or dimming. I thought we ought to have seen land coming into view by now; the Puget Sound is not excessively wide. “I know, it’s my favorite place to be,” ae smiled, staring mesmerized at the wake coming off the boat as it cut through the water like a knife through butter.

Karl tsked and frowned at the sky, seeming displeased with something. I stood and walked to the back of the small boat, where cloud was sitting in the driver’s seat. “Everything alright?” I inquired.

They shook their head and gave a small sigh of frustration. “There should be land here.” I looked up, not sure what I was expecting, and saw nothing but the same blue water and sky. “And my phone’s not getting any connection.” I glanced at my own phone and found that I also had absolutely no cell coverage.

“Huh, that’s odd,” I said, extremely intelligently.

“Yeah, I know,” Karl replied, biting their lip worriedly. “And we should have seen land by now.”

I simply nodded my agreement and stared out into the deep blue world surrounding us. The color no longer seemed bright and cheery to me, instead it was almost… ominous. Like the sky was going to open and swallow us whole. I don’t quite know where the thought came from, but it felt terrifyingly right. As we continued on through the blue, with no signs of land, I only grew more convinced of this.

I was not alone in feeling that the charming appearance of the sea and sky were hiding a dark, malicious secret behind them. Karl was glancing around and biting clouds lip with increasing frequency, expression not dissimilar to my own. Raven, however, was standing, leaning over the rail and staring into the water mesmerized. As I watched, ae slowly crept along the side of the boat and towards the bow.

I started making my way towards her, unable to shake the feeling that there was something wrong with her movements. Ae didn’t seem quite aerself, moving almost as if controlled by some unseeable force. As it turned out, it was a good thing I did so, since right as I reached her, Raven jumped, and gravity seemed to decide not to work, because she started to float up towards the sky. I grabbed aer arm and yanked aer back down to the deck of the boat. She fought me quite a bit, and it was a lucky thing that I like to wear thick sweaters, because I think that had I not been protected by the heavy wool, her long nails would have torn my skin open.

But I did manage to calm aer eventually, and ae took to simply lying dejectedly on the deck and staring up into the sky, eyes focused on something beyond my sight. Perhaps she was just staring at an interesting cloud, but I got the feeling it was nothing so innocent. Ae seemed… distant, disconnected, like ae barely registered that Karl and I were there.

Speaking of Karl, they continued to drive us through the blue. It felt like hours that we went on and on before suddenly the motor cut out and there was a deafening silence. I turned to see Karl slumped back into clouds seat, thankfully still conscious, but looking utterly defeated. “Are you alright?” I demanded, my own voice sounding utterly miniscule in the great blue world around us.

“I don’t know where we are!” Karl looked at me, face slack with terror. They stared at me horrified, although not at me. More at the situation we were in. “We should have hit land hours ago.”

I nodded sagely and walked over to cloud. “This can’t go on forever, can it?” I asked, trying to be reassuring. But from the look on Karl’s face, I’d only succeeded in making their fear worse.

“What if it does?” cloud asked, voice small and hopeless. I looked out at the waters surrounding us and bit my lip contemplatively. Could this go on forever? Admittedly, it was starting to eat away at me. But at the very least I seemed to be keeping my composure, which was more than could be said for Raven or Karl. I didn’t, and still don’t blame them for what happened, though. I know I’m a bit more relaxed than most, especially when it comes to stressful situations.

“We’ll make it back eventually,” I assured Karl. I didn’t really have any idea of how true this was, but I’m an optimist, and it wouldn’t do anyone any good to cause Karl to worry more than they already were. Karl closed clouds eyes and took a deep breath in, and stared out unhappily into the blue. “Let me drive a bit,” I offered. They nodded and slid out of the driver’s seat onto the floor.

I sat down in the seat and turned the ignition key, and a strange feeling came over me, like removing a weight I didn’t know was there. The crushing feeling of nothingness that had been slowly creeping over me lightened, and I felt drastically more cheery. That’s not to say the heavy feeling was gone entirely, but it was considerably less, which was a relief.

I slowly moved the boat forward again, acutely aware of the gaping blue sky above me. It was bright and sunny, but had a darkness to it, like it was going to open up and swallow us in its lengths. But there didn’t seem to be anything I could do- it certainly didn’t seem like a better idea to jump into the water, although I did consider it. So I kept pushing on, driving the boat for what I assume to be several hours, although I have never really had a good sense of time.

I can’t tell you how long it had been when I saw the beginning of something begin to take shape on the horizon. I admit, I was a bit worried some massive wave was coming for us, or a giant, sentient raincloud. The idea seems silly now, but I was in the middle of some great magic thing, of that I have no doubt. There’s no other explanation for it; there are no stretches of water near Seattle that are this large, and the Pacific Ocean is only accessible through canals which are never wide enough that you can’t see the shore.

The thing that I was beginning to see was thankfully, land. I am not ashamed to admit I let out a loud sigh of relief when I realized what it was. Real, normal land, covered in pine trees and the signs of human life: roads and houses dotting the shoreline and telephone poles poking up above it all. It wasn’t Seattle, but at least it wasn’t endless water.

It was then that Karl stood and came over to me, looking incredibly relieved. “I have service again!” cloud told me giddily. I pulled out my own phone, having not even thought to check it, and sure enough, I had cell. Also, about a million unread messages, which I had no doubt would be a massive headache for me later, when I had the time to check them. That time was, however, decidedly not right then.

And then I noticed the time.

According to my phone, it was nearly 4pm on December 24th. We had left on the 23rd, and even disregarding the fact that there was no way we’d spent that long on the water, there hadn’t been a night. It had been bright and sunny the whole time- but come to think of it, the sun hadn’t moved like it should’ve. None of the encounter before this had really shaken me, but this? It was definite proof that something supernatural had happened to us, and I wasn’t sure I liked that very much.

We did eventually find our way back to Seattle, discovering in the process that our trip had taken us across the Sound to the city of Bremerton. I am not familiar with the geography around Washington, but from what Karl and Raven told me, there was no way it could have taken us this long to get here. This was proven when we made it back in under an hour.

The next few days are a blur in my mind. We went back to Karl and Raven’s house, and none of us had the energy to cook dinner, so we just ordered takeout. I went back into the guest bedroom to check on my things, forgetting momentarily about the blue, cloud-covered walls. I know I froze in the doorway when I saw them, and Karl would later tell me they found me collapsed on the ground, mumbling something about ‘the vast.’ All I remember is a sensation of falling, farther than I should have been able to, and then nothing.

I did end up going to my family’s Christmas party, although I felt distant and I think they must have assumed I was drunk, since they didn’t make too much of an effort to disturb me from my thoughts. Afterwards, my parents gave me a lecture on how I ‘wasn’t the child they remembered’ and how they ‘knew I could do better.’ It didn’t really bother me, since the alternative was telling them what happened and probably making them think I was crazy

I went home that weekend and assured my coworkers that my trip had gone well, despite how it had definitely not. I would later hear that Karl and Raven moved away from Seattle, to the middle of Illinois, I think it was. I could see their reasoning; landlocked, with enough trees to block out the sky. California suits me just fine, but I admit I’ve considered moving out near them. Maybe I will, if the proximity to the coast ever gets too much.

ARCHIVIST

Statement ends. There were not many official records to check that could prove the validity of Mx. Jones’s statement. However, I have had Sasha attempt to contact Karl and Raven Smith, and she has been successful. They confirmed that the encounter Mx. Jones declined to make a statement, and did not seem interested in assisting us with follow-up. Given that there were multiple witnesses, I suppose this cannot be dismissed as a hallucination or a dream. Additionally, the descriptions of falling, mentions of ‘the vast,’ and the sky seeming to swallow people whole do seem eerily similar to several prior statements. However, given the fact that it is impossible to prove that this encounter ever occurred, I am inclined to disbelieve it. End recording. [CLICK]

read this on ao3

tagslist: @felicityphoenix5 @zombiecleo @l-art-stuff-l @darubyprincxx @demon-follower

also tagging @the-magnus-institute

[crimmson]

bro WHY is there a 50/50 chance that melatonin is gonna give me the most visceral gut-wrenching heartbreaking dreams

it started off with like... being an astronaut or something similar but it was me a two dudes who were just supposed to be doing baby's first little scouting mission that was like, go to this one little rock and back

but there was this weird cloud that was like a cross between static and a bunch of gnats in space

next thing I knew, I was in some warped version of Times Square where there was an odd mix of people, food, items, and fashion from a huge range of time periods and places. and I was looking at one of the screens showing a garbled news report where it was pretty clear that everyone thought I was dead while my two astronaut fellows were getting some medal.

somehow some woman dressed like a newsie is leading me around and explaining shit, and this place is some kind of weird limbo where lost shit winds up. Not everything or everyone, but a fraction of it. and now they have a whole-ass society. unfortunately that society still appears to have a class system and rely on a crude recreation of capitalism. the streets were lined with tents and stalls selling all kinds of things. some of these shops were obviously nicer than others. and at the top was a dude whose name I have immediately forgotten but he was dressed like a cross between a leprechaun and Santa Claus.

at some point after watching a woman argue with the produce stand lady (which, as it was explained to me, apparently sometimes during the Mystery Teleport To Limbo, food does weird shit; there were some blue strawberries and a frankenlemon) I made an offhand comment about why you would do this. everyone here is just suddenly thrust into this situation, and you're all trying to survive. and you seem to get enough food and supplies for everyone. so why hamstring each other? why not just... dole it out?

this apparently sealed my fate for the rest of the dream, which I would not find out until my gruesome end.

first, at some point, newsie lady pulled me to the side and let me in on a "secret." there were people who had the same thought I did, and they were planning something. then she pulled her shirt to the side and showed something stuck to her skin. it looked like a few poker chips with some wires running between them. but she told me she was there to blow herself up and make a point. and that originally she was just going to do it, but now she wanted to give me the chance to leave the area.

instead I sat down on a little wall and kicked my feet like a child and mumbled that I didn't want her to go.

and then she was like "oh. I didn't know that." and she just. didn't do it. (also I am now beginning to suspect that it was never a bomb and it was just a test)

there was either a little time skip or I just don't remember what happened for a bit. I think it was just me learning to live here for a bit? but the society thing was still bothering me.

AND IT'S ALL DOWNHILL FROM HERE.

I was walking with the newsie lady again, and we were getting into the "nicer" section of streets and stalls. and then there was this very long stretch of tables, draped in honest to God velvet, with display cases of pristine watches and jewelry and gemstones. and I looked up at the dude running it, and it was Green Santa. and I just started climbing over the tables until I got to him, and sat down on the table in front of him, and was just like... "why."

I gave some long rousing speech, and everyone seemed uncomfortable, and Green Santa started to look a little weepy.

then there were thumps coming from "upstairs." logistically this makes no fucking sense. upstairs is just sky from out there on the street. but when I asked wtf that was, and he was like, that is a problem, and we're going to need everyone. quickly, go upstairs and hold the door.

so I ran up the rickety stairs behind him, which had a little wooden landing, and then 180 degrees was another set of stairs. even more rickety. I felt like I was on the inside of a rotted wooden barn. there were huge gaps in the slats, nothing looked secure. but despite the huge gaps, it was impossible to see anything other than fuzzy shadows on the other side of the walls and doors. and it looked for all the world like a bunch of skeletal wolves with antlers were THROWING themselves against the double doors.

so I stretched myself out as much as I could and dug my heels into the shitty crumbling floor and LEANED as hard as I could against the door to hold it shut. because everyone was going to be coming up those stairs to help me.

right?

lol. lmao even.

no. everyone was in on it. everyone was a part of it. I absolutely could not hold those doors. apparently I was a sacrifice. they busted through and I had to watch from my first person POV as I got mauled. at one point I managed to hold up my hand and it was SHREDDED. I could see muscle and bone. thankfully I did not have to feel much. usually I feel shit in my dreams but I guess this time even my brain was like "that's a bit much isn't it?"

BUT THAT IS NOT THE PART THAT HURT

at some point while these things are using my larynx as a chew toy, newsie lady walks in with a hunting rifle. at this point I already have put everything together. with no real warmth, she asks, hypothetically, if I would prefer a bullet in the head at this point. I am choking on sobs and my own blood. and in the saddest gurgle I can manage, I say that I thought she liked me.

"I do. That's why I'm offering."

AND THEN I WOKE UP AND STARED AT THE CEILING FOR 20 MINUTES

HELLO????????

[andiatas]

I was tagged by @princesscatherinemiddleton to answer these questions so let's find out how much of a nerd I am!

What colour are your eyes?: Blue-grey

What instantly tells you if a person is good?: I usually have quite a good gut feeling/instinct when it comes to people, so I'm gonna say the vibe

Do you have a recurring dream?: Not anymore, but growing up I frequently dreamt about my teeth falling out - either that I could pull them out one by one or they fell out all at once & ended up choking on them... can someone tell me if this is normal? Should I be concerned for my younger self?

What is the most interesting class you have taken?: I'm gonna have to say when I was studying History A (autumn 2020), I remember having such a strong feeling of "I'm home, this is where I'm supposed to be" & I try to remind myself of that whenever I have a life crisis & feel like giving up on history for a "safer" field

How often do you find yourself daydreaming?: Way too often

Name/nickname: Saga, I don't really have a nickname... one of my friends has said that if I was a dog I would be a poodle, so she sometimes refers to me as that

Zodiac: Capricorn (Sun = Capricorn, Moon = Aquarius, Rising = Capricorn, for those who are curious)

Height: 158 cm, so around 5 feet 2 inches

Nationality: Swedish & Sámi

Favourite colour: It's a tie between forest green & light pastel colours, depending on my mood

Favourite season: I'm gonna say summer, despite all the pollen

Favourite animals: Dogs & horses

Favourite fictional characters: Oh gosh... way too many! But fictional as in book characters, I'm going to say my underappreciated girls Ginny Weasley, Susan Pevensie & Amy March. If you can't tell, I also love Sophie Beckett & Benedict Bridgerton (I know, shocker!) both as individuals but also as a couple. Honourary mentions to my boys Michael Stirling, Percy Jackson & Finnick Odair. Not gonna go into TV series or movie characters because then we would probably be here the whole day 😂

Tea, coffee or hot chocolate?: I'm addicted to coffee, so that's gonna have to be the answer but, I do love hot chocolate every now & then

Average hours of sleep?: I think somewhere between 6-7 hours

Cat or dog person?: Dog! haha

Number of blankets slept with: Duvet with one blanket on top

Places ancestors are from: The southern part of Swedish Lapland. All of my ancestors lived concentrated in an area nicknamed Drottninglandet, Queensland (the area was "discovered" & named after Frederica of Baden). So as you can see, I had no choice but to be royally obsessed!

Dream trip: Oh, I don't think I have one! I'm gonna have to say pass on this one for now

Blog established: Nov. 2012.

Random fact about yourself: I don't know how to whistle

Three ships: Well, seeing as I've already mentioned Benophie, I'm gonna go with Helnik from Six of Crows/Shadow & Bone, Bellarke from The 100 &... Shirbert from Anne of Green Gables!

Last song:

Last movie: I can't remember...

Currently reading: Scientific papers on the history of the upper-class & their country homes - no really, it's actually interesting but it's taking up all my brain power (as Ash knows seeing as I'm practically years behind on reading her stuff, sorry about that)

Currently watching: *cricket noise*

Currently craving: Sweets

Now, I'm gonna tag @death-of-astar, @silverhallow, @bridgertonbabe, @sophiamariabeckett, @grandmaster-anne & @quintessbrit plus anyone else who wants to answer these questions

[kimmimaru]

Thoughts about Rings of Power. Overall. Spoilers in this so I stuck it under a cut.

So, I spent this whole season anxious as hell about Rings of Power. I’m not a huge fan of twists in stories that have already been told, and due to my ASD I do have trouble adapting to new content in things I enjoy especially when it comes to LOTR. Does that make me a bad person? I have no idea. I just know that I am extremely fussy and uptight about things I hold close to my heart. Because I’m autistic I have special interests and become obsessed with them to the point where it can, sometimes, be detrimental. I’ve gotten better at managing that as an adult but as a child it was pretty intense. I was obsessed with three things as a kid; Star Wars (original trilogy), Final Fantasy VII and of course Lord of The Rings. I have consumed as much LOTR media as I could get my grubby little hands on. So yes, Rings of Power made me nervous. It would have, to a certain extent, whatever platform it was shown on but in this case it was Amazon. Amazon are well known for being money obsessed and not giving a crap about anything except making Bezos richer. So yes, I think I was pretty justified in being nervous about what was going to happen in Rings of Power. As a whole RoP had it’s ups and downs. I’ll start with the ups: Galadriel was brilliantly cast. She looks exactly like I would imagine a younger Galadriel would look like. I enjoyed her acting. Elrond’s actor was also brilliant, he has such depth and also that lightness that all of Tolkein’s elves were supposed to have. A sort of child-like cheekiness that I felt Peter Jackson’s version lacked. The dwarves...I could go on forever about how the dwarves were portrayed in RoP but for now I will just say: AMAZING. I loved Moria. I loved Prince Durin’s friendship with Elrond. I LOVED Disa. I need more of them.  Costume design was wonderful. Absolutely LOVED Galadriel’s dress in todays episode. Stunning green colour.  Still unsure about how I like the Elves’ home set designs yet. I like what we saw but maybe I would just appreciate seeing more?  Now, the stranger...or wizard as we now know (always knew lol). I was, for reasons unknown even to me, CONVINCED they wouldn’t be allowed to use Gandalf so kind of assumed he was either one of the mysterious ‘blue wizards’ or possibly even Radagast the brown as he IS a nature wizard and given the strangers display of magic through most of his scenes you’d assume his magic was nature orientated. Apparently not. They did scare me when the white robed people were calling him Sauron, I was about to switch it off. Glad I didn’t but I HATE shit like that. Wish they hadn’t pulled that stunt. So yeah that’s a negative for me I’m afraid, although a small one admittedly.  Sadoc’s death was gutting, I really liked his character. So that was sad.  Now. Sauron and the question of who he was. I thought it was the dark haired pointy eared one, everything pointed to him. So unless this was part of Sauron’s overall plot (you know, use dark haired guy as a diversion for the elves/numenor), which I hope it was, that was kind of irritating. Again with the stupid ‘twists’ I hate it so much. I don’t watch stuff to then go away feeling tricked. The fact that the ‘king’ of the south ended up being Sauron was actually very good. I am hoping that the dark haired ‘Uruk’ was actually just acting on Sauron’s orders as a distraction rather than it being a red herring for us the audience, because that would be disappointing. I know some plot twists, if done right, can be very good but RoP is based off of material that has already been written and I just have issues with sticking in stupid red herrings for the audience BUT if he was actually a red herring for the characters then it serves some purpose and I can let that go.  Anyway, overall, despite some mixed feelings over some areas of RoP I think it was pretty good. I would really like to see more of Moria and the Dwarves though, lol. Maybe next season will focus on them getting their rings.  Sorry of the long post, I have many thoughts. More than this even but I think I’ll leave it here for now. As an after thought I will add that no, I have never, nor will I ever read or write LOTR fanfiction. This is because I would never be able to capture the same magic that LOTR carries in my own writing. This is not me hating on LOTR fanfiction, write what you want, enjoy writing what you want. It’s just not for me.

[luimagines]

hewwo :)

may i please have colours splitting and gushing over the reader in a pining way u_u

- bestie anon

Yes, you may! Thank you for asking so nicely.

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

It was cold and dark and Four was supposed to be next on watch but he couldn’t sleep. His sides itched, his head hurt and he felt hot and cold all over. The world was spinning even if he was lying down and he was having trouble putting his thoughts together in a cohesive manner. 

He worried that he was sick but he knew what the actual problem. Or rather- he knew what the solution was to this issue.

He groaned and sat up. His head kept spinning even as he reached for his sword.

“Four?” Your voice rang out. He turned to look at you but regretted it almost instantly.

“Are you ok?” You were by his side in seconds. “Do you need help?”

“Get me up.” He groans and you don’t hesitate to to do as he asks.

You both hobble over to the tree line, far from the group. He pushes you away. You protest. He doesn’t let you before he dry heaves into the tree roots. You whine and step away, giving him the needed space.

“Go back to watch the others.” Four coughs out. “I just need a moment.”

“Four- Link-”

“I think I just ate something bad.” The boy turns his head, trying to  smile in your direction but his lose of perception makes it harder than it should be. “I just need a moment.”

“...Ok... If you say so... I’ll be waiting for you to come back, ok?”

“Awesome. Thanks.” Four nods and moves away from the tree, further into the darkness, and away from ear shot.

He finds a small clearing and steadies his stance. With practiced movements he raises his sword above his head and closes his eyes. Bright light covers the immediate area and the pressure in his whole body lessens.

Soon, there are four of him standing side by side, and he can breathe properly again.

“Oh thank god!” Blue groans, louder than he should have and collapses on the ground, throwing himself backwards. “I didn’t think we were going to make it. That was awful. Let’s never do that again.”

“Agree.” Vio takes a deep breath and slowing sits himself on the ground. A hand comes up to his temple to rub small circles there. He looks pained. “I feel like my head is still spinning. But we can’t stay like this for long. We unfortunately had a witness.”

“But they’re so nice.” Red rubs his arms up and down against each other. His nose and cheeks are a bit rosey. The poor boy is colder than he would like to be it seems. “Besides, we made them worry. Let’s just fix ourselves and try to get back.”

“Yeah, that sounds like the best course of action.” Green groans as well, leaning against the tree for support. He’s a bit hotter than he’d like to admit but that can be fixed by simple removing some of his layers. He’s more worried about the others and their problems.

Not to mention that he wants to get back to you as soon as possible. You looked so worried about him.

Blue takes deep and long breaths before he rolls over on his side. “I feel like I’m going to vomit.”

Vio looks up and looks at everyone. “We’re sick.”

“No kidding.”

“You don’t say.”

Red whines.

Vio scoffs and shakes his head. “Not being honest with ourselves is what typically leads us to this mess time and time again. Why don’t we tell them? I don’t know how long we can keep hiding it for.”

“No.” Green shucks his shirt off, tired of the over heating. “They do enough for us. I don’t want to see another worry pool in those pretty little eyes of their again.”

“Their eyes sure are pretty.” Red smiles, sitting down at last. “Like the purest gemstones I’ve ever seen. Literally crystal clear.”

Blue smiles and he lifts his arm to prop himself up ever so slightly. “Or when they blush. Isn’t it the best thing you’ve ever seen?”

“Obviously. But I’m like their laugh more. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone laugh with restraint before. Like they’re holding back. I think we have to somehow break them. I want to see them laugh fully and without any control over it.” Green smirks. “I’ve been thinking about how to do it.”

“Let me know when you have your plan.” Red chuckles. “I’ll help with that.”

“Great!”

“I doubt you’ve ever paid attention to the little faces they make when they’re concentrating though.” Vio smiles.

Red beams and jumps in place. “Oh, when their tongue sticks out. It’s the cutest! I love it!”

Vio snorts even as he flinches. His head is still bothering him. “Yes, that’s exactly what I was talking about. Glad to know we’re on the same page.”

Green laughs a bit and takes his headband off too for good measure. “Or how they wave their hands around like one of puppets from the town square when they’re telling a good story?”

“It is rather amusing.”

Blue sighs and curls up tighter. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to merge back anytime soon. This is really bad.”

“You want to vomit?”

“I don’t want to but I do feel like I’m going to huck something up.” Blue groans again and swallows audibly.

Red frowns and places his cheek in his fist. “We could ask for their help.”

“No.”

“They’re already awake. They already know we’re in bad shape.” Red continues. “Besides, they’re caring. They care about us.”

Green blows out a razzberry. “More than they should, I say.”

Silence.

“They’re going to do it anyway,,. aren’t they?”

“Yup.”

“Most likely.”

“Without a doubt.”

“Then we tell them we’re sick and nothing else.” Green fans himself with his hand and wipe the back of his wrist against his forehead. He’s still warm. But he’s beginning to cool. He suspects it’s the sweat that’s collecting by his hair line.

“I want to hold their hand.” Red says after a beat. “Do you think they’ll play with our hair?”

“If we ask or in general?”

“Would it be weird if we asked?”

“Screw it. If it was anyone else, yes.” Blue sits up and reaches for the abandoned sword by his side. “But I think we can afford our selves a few luxuries and save ourselves a bit of embarrassment if we let them take care of us.”

“That sounds heavenly.” Vio smiles wider. “I don’t mind that one bit.”

“Green?”

Green pauses, already feeling better than the others before him. “They’re going to ask us what happened to us.”

“We tell them we’re sick. No questions asked.” Vio shrugs. “It’s not a lie.”

“We’re keeping secrets.” Green frowns.

“Everyone is keeping secrets.”

“But they deserve to know this isn't any normal illness.”

“With time.” Red says patiently. “You’re right but not here and not like this.”

Blue sits up fully and moves to stand. “I’m not 100% back but if we’re agreeing on this then we’re going to have to head back to camp. And get our little mini mouse to make sure he don’t pitch ourselves into the nearest tree.”

Green follows suit, if only to make sure Blue doesn’t fall over from the way he’s crouched over himself. He holds his sword out, helping Bleu to do the same and other two don’t waste time.

“On three.”

“Four.”

“Five.”

“Why are we like this?”

[writingwithcolor]

What Does Our "Motivations” PSA Mean?

@luminalalumini said:

I've been on your blog a lot and it has a lot of really insightful information, but I notice a theme with some of your answers where you ask the writer reaching out what their 'motivation for making a character a certain [race/religion/ethnicity/nationality] is' and it's discouraging to see, because it seems like you're automatically assigning the writer some sort of ulterior motive that must be sniffed out and identified before the writer can get any tips or guidance for their question. Can't the 'motive' simply be having/wanting to have diversity in one's work? Must there be an 'ulterior motive'? I can understand that there's a lot of stigma and stereotypes and bad influence that might lead to someone trynna add marginalized groups into their stories for wrong reasons, but people that have those bad intentions certainly won't be asking for advice on how to write good representation in the first place. Idk its just been something that seemed really discouraging to me to reach out myself, knowing i'll automatically be assigned ulterior motives that i don't have and will probably have to justify why i want to add diversity to my story as if i'm comitting some sort of crime. I don't expect you guys to change your blog or respond to this or even care all that much, I'm probably just ranting into a void. I'm just curious if theres any reason to this that I haven't realized exists I suppose. I don't want y'all to take this the wrong way because I do actually love and enjoy your blog's advice in spite of my dumb griping. Cheers :))

We assume this is in reference to the following PSA:

PSA to all of our users - Motivation Matters: This lack of clarity w/r to intent has been a general issue with many recent questions. Please remember that if you don’t explain your motivations and what you intend to communicate to your audience with your plot choices, character attributes, world-building etc., we cannot effectively advise you beyond the information you provide. We Are Not Mind Readers. If, when drafting these questions, you realize you can’t explain your motivations, that is likely a hint that you need to think more on the rationales for your narrative decisions. My recommendation is to read our archives and articles on similar topics for inspiration while you think. I will be attaching this PSA to all asks with similar issues until the volume of such questions declines. 

We have answered this in three parts.

1. Of Paved Roads and Good Intentions

Allow me to give you a personal story, in solidarity towards your feelings:

When I began writing in South Asia as an outsider, specifically in the Kashmir and Lahore areas, I was doing it out of respect for the cultures I had grown up around. I did kathak dance, I grew up on immigrant-cooked North Indian food, my babysitters were Indian. I loved Mughal society, and every detail of learning about it just made me want more. The minute you told me fantasy could be outside of Europe, I hopped into the Mughal world with two feet. I was 13. I am now 28.

And had you asked me, as a teenager, what my motives were in giving my characters’ love interests blue or green eyes, one of them blond hair, my MC having red-tinted brown hair that was very emphasized, and a whole bunch of paler skinned people, I would have told you my motives were “to represent the diversity of the region.” 

I’m sure readers of the blog will spot the really, really toxic and colourist tropes present in my choices. If you’re new here, then the summary is: giving brown people “unique” coloured eyes and hair that lines up with Eurocentric beauty standards is an orientalist trope that needs to be interrogated in your writing. And favouring pale skinned people is colourist, full stop.

Did that make me a bad person with super sneaky ulterior motives who wanted to write bad representation? No.

It made me an ignorant kid from the mostly-white suburbs who grew up with media that said brown people had to “look unique” (read: look as European as possible) to be considered valuable.

And this is where it is important to remember that motives can be pure as you want, but you were still taught all of the terrible stuff that is present in society. Which means you’re going to perpetuate it unless you stop and actually question what is under your conscious motive, and work to unlearn it. Work that will never be complete.

I know it sounds scary and judgemental (and it’s one of the reasons we allow people to ask to be anonymous, for people who are afraid). Honestly, I would’ve reacted much the same as a younger writer, had you told me I was perpetuating bad things. I was trying to do good and my motives were pure, after all! But after a few years, I realized that I had fallen short, and I had a lot more to learn in order for my motives to match my impact. Part of our job at WWC is to attempt to close that gap.

We aren’t giving judgement, when we ask questions about why you want to do certain things. We are asking you to look at the structural underpinnings of your mind and question why those traits felt natural together, and, more specifically, why those traits felt natural to give to a protagonist or other major character.

I still have blond, blue-eyed characters with sandy coloured skin. I still have green-eyed characters. Because teenage me was right, that is part of the region. But by interrogating my motive, I was able to devalue those traits within the narrative, and I stopped making those traits shorthand for “this is the person you should root for.” 

It opened up room for me to be messier with my characters of colour, even the ones who my teenage self would have deemed “extra special.” Because the European-associated traits (pale hair, not-brown-eyes) stopped being special. After years of questioning, they started lining up with my motive of just being part of the diversity of the region.

Motive is important, both in the conscious and the subconscious. It’s not a judgement and it’s not assumed to be evil. It’s simply assumed to be unquestioned, so we ask that you question it and really examine your own biases.

~Mod Lesya

2. Motivations Aren't Always "Ulterior"

You can have a positive motivation or a neutral one or a negative one. Just wanting to have diversity only means your characters aren't all white and straight and cis and able-bodied -- it doesn't explain why you decided to make this specific character specifically bi and specifically Jewish (it me). Yes, sometimes it might be completely random! But it also might be "well, my crush is Costa Rican, so I gave the love interest the same background", or "I set it in X City where the predominant marginalized ethnicity is Y, so they are Y". Neither of these count as ulterior motives. But let's say for a second that you did accidentally catch yourself doing an "ulterior." Isn't that the point of the blog, to help you find those spots and clean them up?

Try thinking of it as “finding things that need adjusting” rather than “things that are bad” and it might get less scary to realize that we all do them, subconsciously. Representation that could use some work is often the product of subconscious bias, not deliberate misrepresentation, so there's every possibility that someone who wants to improve and do better didn't do it perfectly the first time. 

--Shira

3. Dress-Making as a Metaphor

I want to echo Lesya’s sentiments here but also provide a more logistical perspective. If you check the rubber stamp guide here and the “Motivation matters” PSA above, you’ll notice that concerns with respect to asker motivation are for the purposes of providing the most relevant answer possible.

It is a lot like if someone walks into a dressmaker’s shop and asks for a blue dress/ suit (Back when getting custom-made clothes was more of a thing) . The seamstress/ tailor is likely to ask a wide variety of questions:

What material do you want the outfit to be made of?

Where do you plan to wear it?

What do you want to highlight?

How do you want to feel when you wear it?

Let’s say our theoretical customer is in England during the 1920s. A tartan walking dress/ flannel suit for the winter is not the same as a periwinkle, beaded, organza ensemble/ navy pinstripe for formal dress in the summer. When we ask for motivations, we are often asking for exactly that: the specific reasons for your inquiry so we may pinpoint the most pertinent information.

The consistent problem for many of the askers who receive the PSA is they haven’t even done the level of research necessary to know what they want to ask of us. It would be like if our English customer in the 1920s responded, “IDK, some kind of blue thing.” Even worse,  WWC doesn’t have the luxury of the back-and-forth between a dressmaker and their clientele. If our asker doesn’t communicate all the information they need in mind at the time of submission, we can only say, “Well, I’m not sure if this is right, but here’s something. I hope it works, but if you had told us more, we could have done a more thorough job.”

Answering questions without context is hard, and asking for motivations, by which I mean the narratives, themes, character arcs and other literary devices that you are looking to incorporate, is the best way for us to help you, while also helping you to determine if your understanding of the problem will benefit from outside input. Because these asks are published with the goal of helping individuals with similar questions, the PSA also serves to prompt other users.

I note that asking questions is a skill, and we all start by asking the most basic questions (Not stupid questions, because to quote a dear professor, “There are no stupid questions.”). Unfortunately, WWC is not suited for the most basic questions. To this effect, we have a very helpful FAQ and archive as a starting point. Once you have used our website to answer the more basic questions, you are more ready to approach writing with diversity and decide when we can actually be of service. This is why we are so adamant that people read the FAQ. Yes, it helps us, but it also is there to save you time and spare you the ambiguity of not even knowing where to start.

The anxiety in your ask conveys to me a fear of being judged for asking questions. That fear is not something we can help you with, other than to wholeheartedly reassure you that we do not spend our unpaid, free time answering these questions in order to assume motives we can’t confirm or sit in judgment of our users who, as you say, are just trying to do better.

Yes, I am often frustrated when an asker’s question makes it clear they haven’t read the FAQ or archives. I’ve also been upset when uncivil commenters have indicated that my efforts and contributions are not worth their consideration. However, even the most tactless question has never made me think, “Ooh this person is such a naughty racist. Let me laugh at them for being a naughty racist. Let me shame them for being a naughty racist. Mwahaha.”

What kind of sad person has time for that?*

Racism is structural. It takes time to unlearn, especially if you’re in an environment that doesn’t facilitate that process to begin with. Our first priority is to help while also preserving our own boundaries and well-being. Though I am well aware of the levels of toxic gas-lighting and virtue signaling that can be found in various corners of online writing communities in the name of “progressivism*”, WWC is not that kind of space. This space is for discussions held in good faith: for us to understand each other better, rather than for one of us to “win” and another to “lose.”

Just as we have good faith that you are doing your best, we ask that you have faith that we are trying to do our best by you and the BIPOC communities we represent.

- Marika.

*If you are in any writing or social media circles that feed these anxieties or demonstrate these behaviors, I advise you to curtail your time with them and focus on your own growth. You will find, over time, that it is easier to think clearly when you are worrying less about trying to appease people who set the bar of approval so high just for the enjoyment of watching you jump. “Internet hygiene”, as I like to call it, begins with you and the boundaries you set with those you interact with online.

[messers-moony]

Cheating | F.H

Paring: Five Hargreeves X Fem!Reader

Summary: Klaus gives Five’s girlfriend a dare to see how he’ll react.

“ Are you sure this a good idea? “ Klaus queried as Y/n began applying makeup to her neck, “ What do you mean? “ Y/n asked in response as she looked in the mirror to stare at the male.

“ He’s an assassin, for Christ sakes! He’s going to literally kill me. “ Klaus retorted as if it were the most obvious thing ever, “ And so was I. “ Y/n beckoned, turning around.

Klaus sighed, “ I know that. I just don’t think this is a good idea. “ Klaus repeated, and Y/n crossed her arms, “ Well, it was your idea in the first place. “ Y/n informed.

“ I know. “ Klaus said defeated, “ Great! All you have to do is stay in our apartment. It’s not that bad. “ Y/n spoke as she began walking to the kitchen.

“ I suppose. What do you wanna do in the meantime? “ The male asked as Y/n grabbed snacks, “ Mario kart? “

Klaus grinned, “ Perfect! “

Y/n and Klaus sat on the couch playing the game for hours on end. Truth be told, Y/n was relatively fearful that Five would take this prank too far, considering how possessive he is with her.

Nonetheless, Y/n knew that if things got out of hand, she’d be able to stop him. Just a few days ago, Klaus thought of the brilliant idea to prank Five, saying how Y/n was ‘cheating’ on him.

Obviously, he didn’t expect Y/n actually to do it. It was a playful comment that held absolutely no meaning, but Y/n was determined to go through it. Honestly, she wanted to see what he’d do too.

The plan was Y/n would make a hickey on her neck with makeup. It was the most cliché way of going about it but definitely the most practical. Klaus would be in the bedroom, and when Y/n gave the signal, he’d enter the main room.

Hanging out with Klaus was definitely the most effective way of getting Five’s jealousy through the roof. He loved his girl with all of his heart and wanted no one to take her from him. This was the girl he planned to spend the rest of his life with.

Five initially hated this girl. She was cocky, sarcastic, and witty beyond belief. The girl worked at the commission and was assigned his partner, which they both despised, seeing as they were both independent.

However, since time works in weird ways, they both became fond of each other. She found herself catching feelings for him much before he did himself. It took months for them to become friends, let alone love interests, but it happened.

Now, Five couldn’t ever get enough of her. Being with Five was like endless cuddles, kisses, affection, and meaningful conversations. The communication between the two lovers was through the roof. No stone was ever left unturned.

“ Okay, Five just texted me saying he’s three minutes away. Go hide in the bedroom. “ Y/n rushed as Klaus jumped up from the couch, “ Yep! “ Klaus shouted from the bedroom.

Y/n began cleaning up the mess they left, and when Five entered the room, he discarded all unneeded items. Then he walked towards his loving girlfriend, washing dishes.

Five walked towards her and wrapped his arms around her waist gently. She’d be lying if it didn’t make her cheeks flush a brilliant pink color. The male nuzzled his nose into her shoulder.

“ I’m home, my love. “ Five’s muffled voice spoke as her shoulder covered his mouth, “ Nah, I couldn’t tell. “ Y/n retorted sarcastically.

The female placed the dishes in the sink and turned around his arms. Now they faced each other, both her hands cupping his cheeks as his green eyes stared into her e/c ones. Both were in a loved-filled daze, and Y/n completely forgot about the prank.

That is, until Five moved some hair from her neck, noticing the discolored skin, “ Love? “ Five slightly pouted, “ Mmm? “ Y/n hummed in response, unable to follow his eyes.

Suddenly his love-filled eyes turned more with an upset look, “ What's on your neck? “ Five asked curiously as he gently swiped his finger over the makeup, “ I- I don’t know what you’re on about. “ Y/n nervously stated.

“ I need to ask you a question, and you need to answer honestly. “ Five spoke with his voice as firm as possible, making Y/n nod and gulp in response, “ Are you cheating on me? “

Fives hands went from her waist to her cheeks, and hers fell to her side. Y/n let out a sigh, not locking eyes with his. Admittedly she was surprised with how calm he managed to stay during this whole situation.

He took her silence as a yes and let go of her. Without another word, he walked into the bedroom. This prank had failed because she wasn’t planning on him being so calm. But when he entered the bedroom to see a boxer wearing, that’s when his anger released.

“ What the fuck! “ Five yelled from the bedroom, “ Shit! “ Y/n cursed, running to the bedroom.

She found Five holding Klaus against the wall choking him, not killing him but making it painful.

“ Five! “ Y/n yelled, “ You won’t lay your hands on my girl ever again. Cause I swear to god if you do, I will kill you myself- “ Five spat as he ignored his girlfriend, yelling at him.

“ It was a prank! “ Y/n shouted, and Five immediately dropped Klaus, “ That got your attention. “ Y/n murmured.

Five looked at her, and through his anger-filled look, she could see his eyes filled with tears. He was trying so hard not to cry when sneering at Klaus, and she could see that now. Klaus scrambled up and left the room. He probably left the apartment too.

When Klaus left is when Five fell apart, “ This was all a prank? “ Five managed through gritted teeth, “ Mhm. “ Y/n hummed.

“ Prove it. “ Five demanded, and Y/n sighed.

The girl walked over to her vanity and grabbed a makeup wipe. She showed him the white towel and rubbed it over the makeup on her neck. Afterward, she handed him the towel, now covered in blue and purple makeup while her neck was its original color.

Gently Five lifted her jaw and moved the hair from that area to see it completely gone. To say he was relieved would be putting it lightly. The girl who he loved and planned to marry had just lifted every weight off his shoulders.

Without a second thought, he embraced her tightly, and she did the same, “ If you do that again, I will kill you. “ Five spoke, “ I won’t. “ Y/n responded.

“ Good because I love you too much. “

[disturbedbydesign]

A Night At The Museum

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Length: 4K

Summary: Your job as a museum tour guide was growing tiresome until a mysterious stranger showed up to claim what was his.

Warnings: Dubcon (slight mind control), Violence (mild), Light Bondage, Explicit Sex (oral, vaginal). 18+ only, no minors.

_____________________________________________________________

Your last tour of the day was about to start and all you could think about was getting off work and meeting up with your sister for drinks. You had always dreamed of one day working at the British Museum, but having been a tour guide there for the past year—doing the same thing, so many times a day, every single day—you found yourself growing tired of it and anxious to move on. Much as you loved art history (you did go to school for it, after all), you had grown thoroughly bored with your job. You wanted some excitement in your life. You needed it.

When you first started, you had been one of the museum’s most enthusiastic guides, always trying to engage all the members of your groups and fielding even the strangest of questions with grace and ease. These days, you were just going through the motions, especially for tours this late in the day. Over the course of the year, you had become adept at instantly identifying the one or two people in any given group who actually cared about the subject matter, and you found it simpler to focus on them and ignore everyone else.

As you performed your perfunctory scan of the last group of the day, you saw the usual suspects: a group of unruly children with intentionally oblivious parents; a travel group of obnoxious middle-aged Americans; an older gentleman, alone, who looked like he could be a professor of some sort (he was the one to pay attention to); and a young couple, clearly on one of their first few dates, who would have eyes only for each other.

And then you saw him.

You were immediately taken aback, struck by the fact that, for the first time in a long time, you couldn’t get a read on someone. The man was tall—really tall—with long, black hair slicked back. His skin was almost inhumanly pale and smooth, like he was sculpted of the same marble as the statues surrounding you. Despite the summer heat, the mysterious man wore a black suit and tie, a white dress shirt, and a long black coat with a scarf. He carried an ornately crafted cane, which seemed more an accessory than a walking aid. Compared to the rest of your tour group, he seemed a man out of time.

And then you saw his eyes—his impossibly green eyes. You could see them from across the room, almost glowing and staring at you, unblinking. your breath caught in your throat and all of a sudden you felt very, very cold.

As the hour-long tour progressed, you went through your practiced speeches about each artifact, moving across the room in the pre-established order and fielding questions here and there. As anticipated, the older gentleman was very engaged in the tour and asked intelligent questions, which you happily answered. Also unsurprisingly, one of the loudest Americans (probably trying to impress his friends) kept asking questions that he thought would make him sound smart and cultured but which, in reality, had the opposite effect. After one particularly ridiculous question, you had to turn your head away, pretending to be thinking about the answer but really trying not to laugh. That’s when you got caught in the emerald stare of the mysterious man with the cane.

He hadn’t taken his eyes off of you the entire tour—hadn’t so much as glanced at any of the art that he was ostensibly there to see—and up until then you had done your best to avoid meeting his gaze. Something about him absolutely terrified you, although you couldn’t pinpoint what exactly you were frightened of. He was standing completely still at the back of the group, but he was so tall that he towered over everyone and you could see his face as clear as if he were right in front of you.

His piercing eyes were locked onto you; they moved where you moved. His gaze was intense and menacing, but it was more than that: you could physically feel his eyes on you, penetrating you all over, making you feel naked. You wanted to look away but you felt like some strange power was holding your eyes onto to his. You stood dumbfounded and locked in a silent stare with the dark-haired stranger until the loud American spoke up, demanding an answer to his previous inquiry. You had never in your life been so happy to answer a stupid question.

You managed to make it through the rest of the tour without meeting eyes with the man with the cane, although there wasn’t one second that went by when you didn’t feel his presence in the room. You even went so far as to forgo asking if anyone had any final questions at the end that they wanted to stay after and discuss with you. You ducked out of the exhibit hall as fast as you could, feeling the man’s gaze boring into your backside as you exited the room, and headed for the staff room to gather your things. You didn’t notice until you got to the employee lounge that you had been holding your breath the whole time.

The museum was officially closed for the day, and as you left the staff area you couldn’t help but notice that the usual security guards posted around the building were nowhere to be found. In fact, there was no one around at all. The main lights were dimmed and the place was impossibly silent; the only sound you could hear was the echo of your own footsteps as you quickly made your way across the building to the exit. You were rounding a darkened corner when you felt an ice-cold hand reach around from behind and clamp over your mouth.

“Don’t be afraid,” hissed a smooth voice in the darkness. “You’re going to like what comes next.”

Before you could think to cry out, you were spun around and face to face with the dark-haired man. He wore the devil’s grin as he leaned down to you, his face barely an inch from your own. One hand still clamped firmly across your mouth, he brought his cane up with the other and traced a gentle line down from your temple to your chin. He let the tip rest under your jaw, pressing in on your throat just a little too hard. He put his lips to your ear and whispered, “Come with me, my pet.”

In one swift motion, he swung you up and over his shoulder and held you there with one arm, the other arm brandishing the cane, which clicked rhythmically against the marble floor, keeping time with his long strides. You were still dazed and breathless from the force of the cane’s tip on your throat and before you knew it, you found yourself in some dark recess of the museum basement, on the floor of a room you hadn’t even known existed. It was filled with strange artifacts the likes of which you had never seen in your extensive studies. There were no lights on but the room was bathed in an eerie shade of blue, which seemed to emanate from the relics themselves. You managed to mumble out a few words.

“Where am I?”

You saw the cane flip once in his hand as he strode toward you and then felt only searing pain as it came crashing across the side of your face.

“Did I say you could speak?” he asked.

You brought your hand to your cheek where he’d struck you, expecting to feel a bloodied gash, but when you took your hand away and looked there was nothing. The blow had left no physical mark, only an icy hot streak of pain. He reached down and traced the line of his blow with a long delicate finger, and suddenly the pain was gone and replaced with a pleasurable tingle.

“As you see, I can inflict both pain and pleasure,” he said, his voice like honey. “What happens next is entirely up to you.”

You should have been terrified, screaming, looking for some outlet or escape, but you found yourself completely paralyzed by his gaze. Going against every survival instinct screaming inside of you, you dared speak again.

“Please… please just tell me who you are and what you want.”

You closed your eyes and braced yourself for another blow but it did not come. You glanced up to see him looking at you inquisitively from the corner of the room, resting his long, lean frame on the tip of his cane.

“You are a bold one, I see. Deserving of my punishment, yes, but also worthy of the pleasure I can give you. I am going to ask you three questions and you are going to answer them honestly. If you lie, I will know, and you will suffer for it. Now tell me, do I frighten you?”

“Yes.”

“Do I excite you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to leave? And before you answer this last and most important question, know this: If you say yes, I will let you go. I will not harm you. I will not follow you. You will never see me again. But you will also never know who I am or what I am here for, the memory of this night will haunt your dreams forever, and no one will ever believe your story. Within a week, you will go mad wondering whether I was a dream or reality.”

In one seamless motion, he crossed the room and yanked you to your feet by your shoulders, holding you an inch from his face, which seemed to glow with its own light.

“Now answer the question. Do you want to leave?”

The final answer flew from your lips before you even knew what you were saying. “No,” you whispered, and he eased his harsh grip on your shoulders, a sly smile spreading across his lips.

You stared at him, motionless and feeling almost paralyzed as you waited for permission to speak.

“Well,” he began, “I suppose it’s only fair that I offer you the same courtesy you have allowed me, so you may ask me three questions and I will answer them honestly. Choose your words carefully, because you get only three.”

He released his grip on you and returned to the corner, watching you and waiting.

“Who… who are you?” you stammered.

“Ah, a good question and excellently phrased. Had you asked just my name, that is all you would have received. But who I am is much more complicated.”

He sauntered toward you and lifted his cane, pointing it in a sweeping circle around the room.

“You see these things here? I am not so different—I was just another stolen relic from another world, locked away until someone might have use of me. But I have broken free of my shackles, and I have come to claim what is mine. You as who I am? I am a God. I am your God.”

You should have thought him completely mad, but you believed him. For whatever reason, you believed him.

“What do you want?” you asked.

He shook his head and chuckled low. “That’s far too vague a question, my pet, for I want many things. I could tell you simply that I want a glass of water, and I would not be lying. But since you are such an exquisite creature and so well behaved, I will answer the question you meant to ask, which is what is my purpose here.”

Something was happening to you, something strange and terrifying and wonderful. You were mesmerized by the way he spoke and the way his long, cold fingers brushed your cheek when he had called you exquisite. You hung on his every word and could not take your eyes off of him.

“I am Loki of Asgard and I have come to reclaim what was stolen from me. This room holds all that I need to take my rightful place as your master and overlord—to claim humanity as my own and rule the people of Earth as your king.”

You searched your racing mind for the words needed to get the answer you so desperately wanted, but your brain would not cooperate.

“One last question, my pet. And don’t keep me waiting.”

Finally, the words come to you in the correct order. “Why have you chosen me?”

Loki smiled lasciviously down at you. “I could tell just by looking at you that you crave subjugation,” he said, his voice smooth and so deep you felt it everywhere. “You were made to be ruled, and you will be the first to kneel for me.”

In a flash he was on you, grabbing your hair hard and pulling you into a deep kiss. His lips felt ice cold but his breath was hot and moist as his tongue twined around yours. You raised your hands to run them through his hair when he abruptly pulled back and caught you by the wrists. He spun you around and bound your arms behind your back with his scarf, pushing you to your knees once he had secured you.

“I told you to kneel,” he growled.

He was behind you and you could hear his ragged breathing, the rustling of clothes, and the soft thump of fabric hitting the floor. When he spun you back around, he was completely naked and you drank in the sight of his pale skin and lean, powerful body. His cock was enormous and rock hard.

“Pleasure me, my pet. I know this is what you crave.”

He grabbed you by the hair and shoved the whole length of his shaft down your throat repeatedly, fucking your face until you almost passed out for lack of air. When you thought you could take no more, he yanked you off of him, tilting your head back and looking down at you with glowing green eyes.

“Very good, my pet. Now slower. Worship it as you will worship me.”

He grabbed the base of his cock, holding it at an angle above your face and willing you to lick it. You complied, running your tongue slowly from the base to the tip, feeling his blood throbbing in the veins that ran the length of his massive shaft; the blood was hot but the flesh was icy cold—a very strange sensation, but one that fascinated you. He let out a series of short, carnal grunts as you swirled the tip of your tongue around his head. You took just the tip into your mouth and began to massage it gently with your lips as he ran his hand lightly up and down his shaft. You could taste his leaking juices as you tongued the slit, and the taste of him was like nothing you’d ever experienced before—it was delicious, addictive even, and it made you insatiable and impossibly wet. You moaned onto his cock as you let it drip down your throat, sending vibrations of pleasure running through his entire godly frame and causing him to groan in ecstasy.

Before you knew it, you were on your feet and your wrists were freed from the scarf that bound them. Holding the scarf between gritted teeth, he ripped your blouse open and straight off your body. He cupped and squeezed your breasts in his icy hands, and your already hard nipples became almost unbearably erect against the lace fabric of your bra. He unclasped it and let it fall to the floor next to you as he yanked your skirt down around your ankles. One hand cradled the back of your neck and he let the other trace a line in between your breasts and down your stomach. When he reached the top of your thong, just above your mound, he stopped.

Your breath caught in your throat and you looked at him. He took the scarf from between his teeth.

“Turn around,” Loki commanded.

You did as you were told and he brought the scarf around your head, blindfolding you. You felt his strong arms lift you up and moments later you were bent over a cold metal table, facedown and arms over your head, gripping the steel. You felt his breath on your pebbled skin as he ripped your thong off your body with his teeth, and he pushed your legs wider apart with his knee as he traced down the length of your spine with two fingers. When he found your entrance, you were already soaked for him—an almost unnatural level of wetness that you’d never felt before in your entire life—and he plunged two long fingers deep inside you without ceremony. You cried out your pleasure as he moved them furiously in and out of you before he slowed and found your sweet spot with his middle finger, working it violently until he started to feel your walls tighten around him and your cries faded to jagged breaths. He stopped just before you found release and you whined loudly.

“You are ready,” he said—telling you not asking you. “Now we shall see where your loyalty lies.”

You were left wanting and stranded on the verge, and the absence of sight heightened all your other senses. Every inch of your body was buzzing and the sound of your own heart beating was deafening in the silent room. That’s when you heard the rhythmic clicking of the cane moving slowly toward you and then stop.

“Who is your God?” Loki asked, his voice cold and commanding.

“You,” you wailed. “You are my God.”

He brought the cane down across your bare ass with all the power of Asgard and you screamed out in delicious agony.

“I said, WHO IS YOUR GOD?”

You tried to answer but your mind could not form words. He brought the cane down on you again, three hard lashes in quick succession, and you made a noise that sounded inhuman in your own ears.

“I’ll ask you one more time: who is your God and your King?”

The sensations coursing through your body threatened to put you over the edge of consciousness, but somehow you managed to yell out to him through the haze of pain and pleasure.

“LOKI! Loki of Asgard is my God and my King!”

He laughed maniacally and you could hear the clatter of the cane dropping to the floor. You felt his magic fingers trace a line across the searing flesh of your ass and the white-hot agony turned instantly to a pleasure unlike any you had ever known. You almost achieved release just from his touch. He untied the blindfold and he rolled you over on your back, pulling you up to face him. His eyes seemed warmer as he leaned in and grazed your ear with his lips as he spoke.

“You have proven your loyalty to me, my pet. I know that you will worship me as I deserve. Now you will be rewarded.”

He stood between your legs and cupped your face in his hands as he kissed you slowly and deeply, more passionately than he had before. For the first time, when you went to touch him, he didn’t try to stop you. At last, your hands found his long black hair and you grabbed fistfuls of it as you pulled him down on top of you, the tip of his cock teasing your opening as you devoured each other. He pulled his face away and buried it in between your breasts as he massaged them, taking one nipple in his mouth and nibbling it lightly as he rubbed the other between two fingers. Every flick of his finger or tongue on your body dragged a sound out of you that you didn’t know you could make. You untangled one hand from his hair and found his massive cock, gripping it firmly and stroking it up and down as you rubbed it against your clit.

“Fuck me, my King. I beg you. Take me any way you want me.”

He lifted his mouth from your breast. “Not so fast, my pet. I must taste you first.”

He pulled you down to the edge of the table and threw your legs over his shoulders as he settled between your legs. He licked you slowly up and down a few times before latching onto your clit, holding your hips firm as he swirled the tip of his tongue around and around, faster and faster until you started to cry out and buck against him. He brought a hand down from your hip and teased your slick folds with one long finger as he continued to work your clit with his tongue and his lips. He brought another finger to your entrance, sliding the two fingers together from the top of your folds to the bottom, and when he plunged both fingers inside you, you came so hard you nearly fainted. His touch was godly, and you knew then he had ruined you for all mortal men.

You had barely recovered from your climax when he sat you up and took you all at once, shoving his cock inside you to the hilt, filling you with ice and fire. He grunted like an animal with each forceful thrust and you screamed with pleasure as you clawed at his back. Your hands found his muscular ass and you gripped it tightly as you screamed his name, keeping time with his rhythm.

“Loki… Loki… My God… My King...”

You brought your arms up around his neck as he lifted you off the table, his strong hands gripping your ass as he walked you over to the side of the room. You clung to him with your legs wrapped tightly around his waist and your arms at his neck as he fucked you senseless against the cold basement wall. The light of the otherworldly artifacts tinted his skin an inhuman shade of blue; it was beautiful, he was beautiful. He quickened his pace and then stopped, remaining motionless with the full length of him still throbbing inside of you.

“Such a good girl for me,” he whispered. “Such a good little pet. I think maybe I’ll keep you.”

He walked you back over to the table and laid himself down on it so that you were straddling him. You moved up and down on his cock slowly, almost teasingly, wanting to feel every inch of him inside of you. As you rocked up and down, he brought his cold thumb to your clit, circling it while you rode him and bringing you close to the edge again. He began to buck underneath you as you fucked him and you knew he was close, too. You leaned in and grabbed the hair at the back of his head as you continued to slam yourself onto on him.

The words fell from your lips—“Fill me with your God seed, my King, I want every last drop you have”—and even as you said them, you had no idea where they came from, almost as if they were planted there and forced from you.

That had Loki’s eyes rolling back in his head and he moaned deep as he sat up, grabbing your hips as you rocked back and forth on his lap. He tightened his grip on you and quickened his pace, pounding into you hard and fast. As the muscles of your tight walls rippled with pleasure and you cried out your reverence in his ear, Loki found his release. He held your squirming body tight against him, your muscles shaking uncontrollably as he came roaring into you. You felt his warmth spread inside of you—such a contrast to the chill of his flesh—and you stayed locked in his embrace, completely limp with exhaustion.

“Thank you, my King,” you whispered, and Loki brought his fingers to your face.

The last thing you remember is two cool fingertips pressed to your temple. When you awoke, you were naked and alone in the basement room. The artifacts that had filled the room were now gone and there was no sign of Loki but for a pile of clothing next to you on the table—new clothes to replace the ones he had destroyed in his lust—and a handwritten note that said only “Fit for a Queen.” You put them on, wondering if he would ever be back for you. You were nothing now without your king. You knew you were made to be ruled.

[angiees-animaniacs-art-blog]

I’m gonna say this; I FREAKING LOVE AMPHIBIA!!! I love Animaniacs too! What does one do in this situation? CROSSOVER!!! >:]

I’ll make Yakko and Wakko’s designs later, but the story goes similar to canon, but a lot changes (especially with Sasha’s ordeal)

Yakko and Wakko were BOTH sent to Wartwood, but Dot was sent to Newtopia (like Marcy was.)

Yakko and Wakko share Anne’s story, while Dot absorbed Sasha and Marcy’s. Why did I do this, instead of replacing the three protagonists with the three characters? A, Because Dot and Marcy are both my favorites. And B, I cant see any of the Warners acting like Sasha. So that whole Toad Tower ending of Season 1 never happens in this AU.

Wakko: Blue

Yakko: Red

Dot: Green

When they get their powers, their eyes turn from black to their respective colors.

Dot, in Newtopia, starts to explore further out from the area, going on adventures looking for her brothers. On the way, she finds Grime and the toads. She is imprisoned, and when the herons attack, she teaches him how to be nice so his soldiers can defeat them. *Not in the way Sasha did, but to be genuinely nice. But ehhh.. a bit of her youngest child charm is used here too ;)* She develops a friendship with the toads, but returns to Newtopia. She and Grime do battle training on the outskirts of Newtopia every now and then to teach her sword fighting. He gifts her the heron swords.

(Season 2 and 3 spoilers) It’s later found out that Dot was the one who purposely stranded them in Amphibia! (Oh no! It’s almost as if she’s supposed to be MARCY in this story!!! /s) Yakko and Wakko are rightfully pissed, but fight Andrias, choosing to figure this all out later, when they get back.

When Sprig gets thrown from the window by Andrias, Wakko gets the blue gem’s powers and beats the ever-loving crap out of him. Good for you buddy! (Dot and Joe Sparrow save Sprig btw)

Dot gets stabbed by Andrias (and dies on the spot, unlike Marcy. But Dot has nine lives, which Wakko and Yakko forget, so she lives and is put in the glass chamber for most of season 3. Rip). Wakko and the Plantars get sent back to Earth, and Yakko tries to help Dot, but Grime grabs him and leaps from the window, calling upon Joe Sparrow, and they fly back to Wartwood. WE FINALLY HAVE A SASHA, GUYS!!! Yakko does exactly what Sasha did when she got back to Wartwood, and leads the rebellion.

Dot, of course, (and unfortunately,) gets possessed by The Core, turning into Dangelina (Whether this stands for Dangerous Angelina or Dark Angelina is up to you, I cannot decide lol.)

I’m not giving any more away (*coughs* because I haven’t seen the rest of Season 3 because Disney Plus hasn’t updated yet *coughs*) so have fun with this AU! When I finally get to see the rest of Season 3, I might make this a fanfic! :]

If anyone has any other ideas for this, let me know! :3

[sweetchup]

Bi•valve

Noun

an aquatic mollusk that has a compressed body enclosed within a hinged shell, such as oysters, clams, mussels, and scallops.

AKA

The Most Common Seashell in the Ocean

————————

Vol. 2: Into the Deep // Ch. 7

Type: Poseidon x reader

Word Count: 3,000+

Masterlist

————————

A loud creak fills the night air as you make your way through the empty halls. You feel yourself freeze for a second, holding your breath as you listen for any signs of movement. For any signs that someone else would be in the halls as well. Thankfully no one was actually there and, once you deem it is safe to continue, you round the corner to the staircase.

Tonight marks your third day staying here. Well, technically five days but you don’t count the two you were unconscious. Even though you had asked, as well as begged, Marine to take you to see Triton on that first day he wouldn’t allow it.

“My Lady, You must stay in bed! You are still injured!”

“Please, My Lady! Master Triton is fine.”

“Lord Poseidon would behead me if he saw you up already!”

Which has led you to this. Sneaking out at the bleak of midnight to make your way to Triton’s Manor. Thankfully, yet also not, Poseidon doesn’t station knights in the Manors so you could easily make your way through the halls.

Sorry about this Marine…

You felt bad about tricking Marine like this—You could already imagine the heart attack the poor fish would get once it realized you had disappeared—But you couldn’t stay in that room for one more moment. All day, every day, for the past three days it was all about Poseidon’s and your’s picture perfect fairy tale love story.

Apparently, all of the servants, and you meant all, believed that you had stolen their dear lord’s heart and to protect you from the wicked Amphitrite he allowed you to take care of his son. So when Marissa—who was apparently Triton’s aunt on Amphrite’s side—tried to attack you, Poseidon was so worried about your safety that he made you stay in his kingdom instead. They said it was the love story of the millennium…

Honestly, they couldn’t have gotten more off from what really happened.

“Finally…” You gasp out as you see the exit in sight. Traveling across the vacant grand entrance, you stand in front of the cold stone door. It’s pure size and golden details makes you pause from grabbing onto its handle.

You can do this…

Taking a deep breath, you finally grasp the metal handle and give it a pull.

“It weighs so much…” You mumble to yourself as you put your whole body weight behind your next tug. No wonder Triton was so strong, these doors were no joke. If it weren’t for the fact you were underwater and it made things lighter, you, in no way, would be able to open this door.

If only that magical shield, or whatever it’s called, that was around the whole palace area wasn’t in place. That stupid thing that actually allowed gravity and no magic spells inside its area. You could have just swam out an open window instead of going through all this trouble.

But, what can you do... It’s not like you could actually boss Poseidon around. You were sure that you were on the last straw with that guy.

“Woah…” You gasp out as you peeked outside from the open door that was now wide enough to be able to slip outside.

Due to Atlantis—where Poseidon’s Castle was located—being on the ocean floor, the moon was able to shine down far enough. Leaving the place often dark with only lanterns or other god made items for light. Well, that’s based on what you saw from inside the manor.

Outside was a totally different story.

Angular fish, Jellyfish, Squids, Luminous Shrimps. All of them covered the night sea in a blurry of glowful colors in front of you. It looked like billions of stars in the night sky. Except for the fact they were actually closer to you.

“A Human…?” A squeaky voice calls out. Startled, you look around in confusion and it takes you a moment to realize that one of the Luminous Shrimp was calling out to you. As you raise your hand for it to latch onto your finger, making you let out a small giggle from its front antenna tickling at your skin, it gains the attention of the rest of the swarm of shrimp that were swimming nearby.

“A Human?”

“It really is.”

“Is she Lord Poseidon’s new bride?”

“What was her name again?”

“(Y/n)? Right?”

“(Y/n).” All the shrimp begin to chant as they swim over and tickle at your skin.

“H-hey!” You giggle out, twitching and wrinkling at the strange feeling. Your stomach beginning to hurt as the small giggles turn to full scale laughter. “That tickles..!”

The shrimp continue to tickle you for a couple of more moments—along with chanting words of praises for their ‘new lady’—before suddenly swimming off in a hurry.

“H-Hey where are you running off—“ Your voice pauses as your back suddenly hits something hard. “Wh—..”

As you spin your head around to take a look at what you had bumped into, you freeze on the spot. Oh what good luck you seem to have…

“P-Poseidon…”

At the call of his name, you see the said Sea God’s eyebrow twitch slightly under the light glow of the sea creatures. Ah. You forgot you weren’t supposed to address Gods so casually. Especially him.

“I-I mean, Good Evening Lord Poseidon…”

The cold look on the God’s face doesn’t change as he continues to stare daggers down at you but it at least seems less menacing now. Perhaps it was your internal survival instincts thanking you for avoiding death once again.

.

..

…

Ah, this is awkward.

“M-May I help you, Lord?” You ask Poseidon as he continues to stare at you. You were hoping for some sort of response or answer to make the atmosphere less awkward but all you got was a scoff in response. The only thing out of said exchange that didn’t make you angry was how he drifted his gaze away from you and onto the floating sea creatures instead. Just thankful to get his piercing gaze off of you.

What was this guy’s deal?

Not wanting to spend another moment with the rude fish god, you turn and walk away. As your feet tread the last couple of steps of the stone stairs and onto the path, you find yourself looking at the sea grass that stood just yonder of it.

This must have been the area that was originally meant to be used as that ginormous garden as, compared to the rest of the surrounding area, the sea grass stretched out for yards in front of you. Honestly, you guessed two whole soccer fields could squeeze inside the vast circular field in front of you.

Actually, as you stared at the sea grass that seemed to dance in the tide of the sea, you wondered if it was anything like normal grass.

“Ah!” You can’t help but let out as you place one bare foot onto the field. It was soft, extremely soft. You would even compare it to the feeling of silk with its smooth and chill-like feeling.

“Human…”

At the call you tilt your head upwards to come face to face with a giant jellyfish. When did that get there? Also, why did it come down in the first place? The rest of the jellyfish were drifting much higher up. About roof height even.

“Human…” The jellyfish calls again, this time stretching one of its tentacles out towards you. Its smooth purple like texture makes you entranced by it. Ah, was it asking you to shake its hand?

“H-Hello—“

Just as you stretch your hand out to clasp the jellyfish’s, a hand on your wrist stops you. Instantly, you freeze as you recognize the green glove that was attached. Oh god, what did you do this time?

“L-Lord Poseidon-n I wasn-n’t— Gah!”

Instantly your head flies upwards back to the jellyfish as you hear its screeching. Poseidon’s other hand was holding the jellyfish head in a death-like grip. Based on the veins popping out from his arm it was like he was trying to squeeze the jellyfish into mush.

“Lord Po—“ You are cut off as Poseidon’s chilling voice resounds out next to your ear.

“You weren’t trying to do what?” You feel yourself calming down slightly as you realize he wasn’t addressing you. Though it wasn’t by much as you were still pressed against the strong god as he berated the jellyfish in front of you, “Insolent creature. Know your place.”

“I-It was only trying to shake my hand!” You shout out as you turn your gaze up to the god. His chilling blue eyes almost making you want to back down if it wasn’t for the fact you knew you couldn’t. It wasn’t right of him to punish a poor creature that just wanted to greet you.

“Shake your hand?” Poseidon chillingly repeats, a small chuckle laced in at the end as if he finds the situation to be humorous. Slightly, the god tilts his head down. Just close enough to whisper in your ear, “Human. Open those pathetic eyes of yours and take a hard look at my hand.”

Although you were taken aback by Poseidon’s harsh words, you still turn your gaze to look at his hand. Oh. Although his hand was mostly covered by his glove, you could still see the searing red bumps and lashes that decorated across his fingertips.

“Not only that.” Poseidon whispers again, making you jump slightly, “This jellyfish is deadly poisonous for humans.”

“Lord Poseidon-n. I beg for your forgiveness. I only did this because Lady Am—“

“Shut up.” You wince and shut your eyes close as Poseidon encloses his grip on the jellyfish. Crushing its head in a grueling squish. Even though you saw Marissa decapitated less than a week ago, you still find yourself shaking out in fear. Unable to find it in you to open your eyes.

“Tch. Pathetic…”

At first you thought Poseidon was addressing the now deceased jellyfish but you soon find out he wasn’t. Letting out a small squeak, your eyes fly open instantly as Poseidon hauls you up into his arms. Though, you soon regret that decision as your gaze locks instantly onto the corpse of the jellyfish.

Shutting your eyes once again, you shakily lean against Poseidon as you attempt to dull the sickly feeling settling in your stomach. Not even bothering to  question or ask where he could possibly be taking you.

It is only when you hear the loud squeak of a door being open that you open your eyes. Looking over Poseidon's shoulder as he ventures further into the building, you try to find out where you were. From what you could see, it definitely wasn’t your Manor as the halls were far too grand. With floor to ceiling grand windows, marble floors, and intricate works of art, it left you speechless.

It is only when your gaze locks with one of the many photos on the walls that you finally realize where you were.

“Are we in Triton’s Manor?”

Poseidon doesn’t give you a response but you pass by more photos and paintings of Triton, you knew your assumptions were correct.

But,…

Pressing a hand on Poseidon’s chest you lean backwards to stare at the god. His eyes continue to face forward, seeming to stare right through your torso that stood in front of him as he doesn’t even bother to gaze up at you, “Poseidon… Why are you helping me?”

Once again, Poseidon doesn’t respond, only giving you a small glance upwards as so to give a glare to show his distaste in how you did not address him properly. You swore this guy changed his mind so much it was giving you whiplash. He decides at one point to full on ignore you and the next to save you from impending danger.

“I thought you wanted me dead.”

This time Poseidon actually reacts as he pauses in his movement and his eyes turn to gaze up at you. Their cold glory makes you flinch at his emotionless gaze.

How did Triton come from this man…

“You wanted to kill me as you dragged me underwater with Triton, right?”

A long pause fills the air before Poseidon finally responds.

“I do.”

You feel the need to flinch under the harshness of his words but don’t. You knew you couldn’t. He wasn’t saying ‘I do’ because he wanted to kill you in the past. No. He would have said ‘I did’ if that was the case. Even as he saved you from the jellyfish. Even as he was currently holding you in his arms, Poseidon still wanted to kill you. He still had the desire to.

But…

Why are you still alive then?

“Stop thinking.” Poseidon coldly orders as his eyebrows twitch lightly in annoyance. As if he knew what you were thinking, he continued to answer. “You are alive because you need to be. When you aren’t worthy to me anymore, I’ll throw you away. It’s as simple as that.”

Poseidon continues to stare up at you, seeming to wait for any more peeps out of you before venturing on. He grunts a little as you fall back in his arms, your chin resting on his shoulder as you look around at the items that decorate the halls. The warmth leaking from your body through your nightwear makes him freeze slightly but he doesn’t say anything. Choosing for once not to voice his disgust outloud and instead looking at the items that decorate the halls as well.

Soft…

Poseidon’s fingers twitch slightly as he accidentally graces your warm skin that was hidden under the shirt of your nightwear.

Stupid…

His mind instantly ridiculed and pummeled down the disgusting thoughts that clogged his mind. Especially over the fact that he, of all gods, shouldn’t be intrigued over the softness and warmth of a human.

“Tch. We are here.” Poseidon grumbles out as he finally rounds the corner and opens the door to Triton’s room.

Yet, even though Poseidon thought it would all be over if he reaches Triton’s room and places you down, he comes face to face with another problem.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” Poseidon snapped out. Even though you came all this way, and caused a lot of bothersome troubles in the process, you only leave his side for a second to check up on Triton before coming right back. Did you not care about his s—

Instantly, Poseidon stomps that thought out of his mind.

“Your wounds. You’ll need help patching them up.” You bluntly told the god. Even though you had flinched at his outburst seconds earlier, you still reach forward to grab his hand. Did you want him to kill you?

Poseidon retracts his hand and glares down at you.

“I do not need your help.”

“Bu—“

“Gods… have no need for armies. No need for betrayal. No need for support. Such are the gods. Ever since the beginning, we have been the perfect beings. I. Especially. Do. Not. Need. A. Human’s. Help.”

After Poseidon’s speech, there's a long pause. Out of the corner of his eye, Poseidon watches you walk away and believes you gave up. That is until he sees you drag a chair over near him, patting the seat in a gesture to get him to sit down that makes his nose wrinkle up in disgust.

“I—“

“It’s my fault.” You state, cutting Poseidon off as you stare back at him. Your sharp fiery gaze unwavering as they stare back into his cold emotionless ones. “You don’t need my help since you are perfect but… it’s my fault. So I owe you one. So give me your hand so we are even. If Gods have no need for support then they have no need for favors as well. Right—“

“Shut up.” Poseidon barks out coldly. Giving you a harsh glare before, surprisingly, sitting down in the chair. For a second, Poseidon feels his hand twitch as he sees the surprised look on your face, wanting to wipe that fowl look off your face but stops himself as you kneel down to examine his hand.

I’m getting too worked up from a stupid mortal, Poseidon thinks as he turns his gaze up to the ceiling as you pull off his glove. Seeming to begin to treat his wounds.

Stupid…

Poseidon feels himself grit his teeth as your hands softly graze up and down his. Examining it to see what must be done to treat the many wounds. He wonders if this was how you treat Triton’s woun— Stop. So carefully and—

“Stop.” Poseidon bellows as he pulls his hand away from your grasp. This was idiotic. What in the world was going on with him?

It’s just like the time when Triton was born.

Stop.

How warm he felt inside seeing—

STOP.

“Hey. I need to—“ As you grasp onto Poseidon’s hand once more, he instantly grabs the front of your shirt and throws you across the room. Thankfully you landed safely on Triton’s bed, only the wind knocked out of you but…

“M-Mom?”

My, I’ve never seen a look like that.

Poseidon feels his body freeze as his gaze comes in contact with Triton’s. The boy that was once peacefully sleeping now wide awake as he takes in the scene in front of him.

Hmmm… You sure secretly spoil a child you don’t care about.

“F-Father?” Poseidon feels his hand balls into fists as Triton calls that title towards him.

I know you won’t divorce me unless you want something to happen to your precious so—

The loud slamming of a door cuts Poseidon’s thoughts off and he finds himself out in the hallway.

Stupid…

All of this, everything, was stupid.

A perfect being. He was a perfect being. Gods have no need for armies. No need for betrayal. No need for support. Such are the gods. Ever since the beginning, we have been the perfect beings. We have no need for the herd... no need for scheming... and no need for support.

Such… are the gods.

Author Note: Oooo a lot happened this chapter. Especially a lot with Poseidon’s character. Feel free to discuss what you thought about this chapter and Poseidon’s inner monologue. I would love to hear about your opinion or answer any questions if you are confused on some parts.

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