#I thought one’s name was skippy

[typicalopposite]

Just to put it out there… if I end up hurting myself by watching Fellow Travelers … I’m fully blaming the rwrb community because that’s who I see sharing it the most. ☹️

[charliedakotariley]

Self insert here but imagine....

Jason having an artist partner, or a partner that LOVES to hord tiny decorations in their apartment/house.

They go out, sees a tiny mini figure of a bumble bee, buys it, takes it home and dedicates a whole ass shelf to it. Makes it a tiny house, a tiny garden and a general beautiful scenery.

Now imagine Jason, the buffed and huge mountain of a man, scary and violent, known to shaken everybody who meets him, ripped muscles and rough hands- and he's croutching to the level of the shelf, seeing the tiny Bumblebee with wonder and adoration in his eyes like a small kid in a Disneyland and softly asks "Does this cutie have a name?" and "If he could take it into his hands?"

The figure is as big as his pinky nail and he's holding it like it's alive, fragile and soft. He cooes at it, asking it how it's doing and what is it growing in its tiny garden.

After a while when he's putting it back he asks "Do you have more?" and his partner says "They're all over the place, you can try and find them all."

And DUDE- the way his eyes sparkles, a huge smile forming on his face, clapping his hands and doing this skippy jump while he runs around searching for those tiny creatures and their homes.

He finds a snail reading a book inside its shell above the fridge, a moth holding a caterpillar baby in a rocking chair in one of the cabinets, tiny kittens cuddling in a cozy bed behind a curtain, and a family of bats hanging from the ceiling holding wings in a book nook.

And he's tearing up. A tiny creatures having a praceful cozy lives without any trouble, nobody's hurting them, they need no savior, no one who would come late to their rescue, no shed tears and blood-

He gently puts the lastest figure back with a teary eyes, petting its head while turning and going back to your shared bedroom, stopping in a doorframe and looking at his partner who looks up and says something that has him bawling his eyes out...

"And you found the last one, Jaybird. Come here, to me, to our tiny peaceful home."

Thoughts?

I apologize for any mistakes, Grammarly isn't working-

[joels-shitty-puns]

The Key To Your Heart - Track 7

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Musician!Reader

Series Summary: After writing your feelings for Pedro into a song, it gains a lot more popularity than expected. Ultimately it brings both criticism and support, with new possibilities around the corner.

Series Warnings: 18+ only (MDNI). Fat shaming, name calling, kissing, angst. Mentions of food, weight loss, weight gain, dieting, weighing, potential eating disorder, food guilt. Potential for puns/dad jokes (name of my blog, and the fic) should give that away. This is my first fic which should be its own warning, lol. Also some cursing. Mentions of masturbation (f) maybe more smut later idk. Sadness, reader is pretty depressed. Poor body image. Rude people. Bullying-ish and just lack of support? Anxiety. Age gap! Reader is in her mid 20's, Pedro is current age (48).

Other stuff: Reader is plus sized. AFAB. Inexperienced. Also has a dog, but you can pretend it is another creature probably. Further, in case it isn't clear, italics almost always are the reader's inner thoughts!

Word Count: 6.6K!!!

Series List: Here!

Miss last chapter? Here!

Hi guys! I'm so sorry this took a little extra longer than usual. I've had a lot of ideas for this chapter for a long time and I struggled with putting it all on paper. I'm also on vacation 🤪 but I really wanted to get this one out there, especially before Halloween. Also I'm sorry if the spacing and stuff is crap, I did this from my phone/iPad while falling asleep at 3:30 AM. Hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading!

__________

You awoke with a start, your alarms blaring through the bedroom. Giving the snooze button a smack, you reach across your mattress, touching the sheets to find the other side of your bed empty.

It was still warm, but missing the actual body that you fell asleep cuddled next to. Blinking your eyes a few times, you called out into the bedroom. "Baby?"

You climbed out of bed, making your way down the hall to the living room, where you finally saw him on the couch. Sound asleep, eyes gently closed, a soft snore passed from his mouth. At the sound of your footsteps, he opened his eyes, giving a big stretch and wagging his tail.

"Good morning Skippy, my little sunshine! I missed your cuddles this morning. Why'd you move to the couch?"

He looked at you and yawned, his eyes closing once again. You giggled and headed for the shower to get ready for another day. Some of us have to actually work and get stuff done in this house!

_____

The day at work was busy, leaving little time to chat with Pedro. You couldn't help but smirk to yourself as your coworkers buzzed about your new album freshly released the day before. They still hadn't figured it out, but you decided you would continue to let it be your little secret a bit longer. They didn't need to know. Just you and Pedro could share this for now.

On your lunch break, you finally opened your phone to find a few text messages from him. "Good morning! I had fun video chatting with you last night. I'm so glad we listened to your album together, and it was nice to finally get to see you." His message made your heart skip.

Second text from Pedro: "Hey, I hope work is going well for you. I was thinking, maybe if you'd like, we could chat again later? If you don't want to video chat anymore, no pressure, but I enjoyed it and thought maybe if you wanted to, we could."

You replied. "Hey P! It's been a crazy day :) but a good one. Especially waking up happy after enjoying a lovely evening. I would really love to video chat with you again too."

Pedro breathed a sigh of relief at your answer. He couldn't help but feel nervous to ask you, despite having just video chatted last night, and he also didn't want to make you feel pressured; especially with someone as private as you are. But with your response, he smiled as he felt his stomach fill with butterflies at the thought of seeing you again.

_____

Later on, after work, the two of you were texting and deciding on the time to video chat again. However, before you called, Pedro texted you again. "Hey, I had a question for you, but I didn't want to ask it over the phone or video call and make you feel pressured. But, there's this Hollywood Halloween party coming up in a few days. I know you still want to keep your identity, but I thought if you'd like to, each guest is allowed to bring a date, and I thought you could mingle a little with some other musicians and actors. I can just tell people you're one of my friends from a set if you don't want to give your real name. You don't need to tell them anything you don't want out to the public. Plus I would love to spend some time together in person too, if you want to. I know it's a lot, so if you would rather not go, I understand. But I'd love to meet you."

The idea of going to a party filled with other celebrities, AND Pedro, had you filled with mixed emotions. Nervous. Excited. Terrified. Love-sick. Hesitant.

After a bit of thinking,you decided, and the answer seemed obvious from the start. The party sounded terrifying, and was completely unknown territory. But you also knew that if you didn't go, you'd surely kick yourself and regret this chance forever.

Finally you replied. "Okay! I'll go. I'd love to spend time with you, too, Pedro. Thank you for inviting me."

He replied again: "Really?! So, will boo be my date? 👻"

You: "That was a little too.. (candy) corny. I may have to ghost you. 🎃"

Pedro didn't miss a beat. "Okay, you're driving me batty. 🦇 Want to call and talk about our costumes?"

Oh shit, I forgot about costumes.

The two of you chatted, easily falling into the comfortable conversations you always do. Fitting together like two peas in a pod. Even though neither of you were dressed up fancy anymore, it didn't feel like you had to be someone else, or dress up. Things were comfortable. Easy.

Pedro suggested a matching costume, which made you want to scream and pace through your living room. Unfortunately, due to your camera situation, pacing and screaming would surely cause some alarm. After dancing around things like pirates, ketchup/mustard, and movie characters, you finally had an idea and suggested Cinderella and her prince.

"It just feels kinda fitting you know? Nobody knows who I am, but I go out for once, I meet this prince, and he lets me have this fun night. But then at the end of the night, everything goes back to normal, and I'm unknown again."

Until he eventually can't stay away and they both fall in love and live happily ever after… but that's neither here nor there. Totally not my intention.. pffft…

"That sounds like a wonderful idea. Should I send a carriage?" He joked with a wink, but you could tell he was a little bit serious. You couldn't help but feel like he would have reserved a carriage ride in a heartbeat had you said yes.

"Absolutely not. Way too big of a scene," you laughed. "In fact, I actually have work that day. Would it be possible for me to just meet you there after I get off work? I can just take an Uber across town. My work isn't too far from the party and I'm sure parking will be a mess."

Pedro agreed, although he felt bad you'd be taking a ride-share service alone and continued to offer a ride if you needed. He also felt a bit disappointed he wouldn't get to have any time alone with you beforehand, but he wasn't about to tell you that detail.

Either way, the two of you agreed on your plans, and as the days led up to the party, you grew more and more eager. You also felt more and more dread in the pit of your stomach.

But this will be good. It has to be. Right?

_____

The night of the party came quickly.

You got off work, took a quick shower, changed into your costume, did your hair, and added a little bit of makeup. The costume felt silly, but you kept telling yourself it was Halloween and everyone would be in costumes. Plus, you have a handsome prince waiting for you inside. As your mind and heart raced, the Uber driver pulled up to the curb, dropped you off, and you were met with a line to the entrance.

The line to the party was lengthy, filled mostly with eager fans, paparazzi, and journalists hoping to gain entry. Occasionally you'd see a celebrity pass by, but they were quickly ushered in once they were recognized.

You, however, were unknown by all. So you stood in line, surrounded by others who hoped desperately to meet their favorite celebrity. Not unlike yourself.

Having finally made it, you sent a quick text to Pedro. "Hey! I'm here :) sorry I'm late."

Your stomach twisted in knots. Sure, you were excited to meet Pedro. Especially with as much as the two of you have been talking over the past couple months now-

Geez, has it really been months?

But despite your connection, you still had that nagging self-conscious worry that he might not like you. Maybe he's just been talking with you to be nice, and the second you're together in person he won't give you the time of day. Maybe he will find you boring in real life. Maybe he will think you're ugly. Or weird. Or fat. Or -

"Next!" The bouncer at the door yelled after sending yet another hopeful fan away. Your stomach dropped and your mouth was dry.

"Hi, I-"

"NAME?" He barked, clearly done with this whole event.

"Well, actu-"

"Speak up princess, I can't hear ya when ya mumblin," the man said with a thick New York accent.

You cleared your throat. "Actually my name isn't on the list, I'm a guest of Pedro Pascal."

The man, towering over you, let out a bellowing laugh. "YEAH, I'm sure ya are, toots. You and every other woman in this joint."

"But I-"

"And trust me, I've turned away much prettier broads than the likes a' you at this doorway," he said while looking you up and down with an amused look as if he had just told the punchline at a comedy club.

Your heart sank. You always said things like that to yourself on the inside, but it wasn't often that people were that blunt to your face.

The man sneered while smacking his gum and arrogantly moving it to the other side of his mouth with his tongue. That gum. You wanted to punch him if you had to hear him smack it one more time.

"Back a' the line, kid. Y'ain't gettin' in here tonight, but I appreciate the self-confidence," he said, laughing at his own joke.

Disheartened, you didn't even care about meeting Pedro anymore. Your mood was dampened, your ego was hurt, and all you wanted to do was go home, get out of this stupid costume, and cry on your couch. With a short nod, you bit your lip to choke down the tears, turned, and headed towards the exit.

"Hey!!! There you are- wait where are you going?"

You'd recognize that voice anywhere. Pedro.

You turned around, swallowing down your emotions and putting on a fake smile, despite the wave of hurt and anxiety pooling in your stomach and chest. "Hey, Pedro! You found me."

Pedro smiled at the guard and snuck past, telling him "hey, she's with me." Fans in line squealed, which he greeted with a kind wave and charming smile. At last, he reached you and gestured for the two of you to head inside to the party. You gave a nod and a small, half-hearted smile.

You didn't want him to know how upset you were. Not only did you feel pathetic and slightly agree with the bouncer, but you also didn't want to ruin Pedro's night.

As the two of you entered the crowded party, you looked around at the decorations. Filled with purple and green lighting, the Halloween music blared and monsters danced the night away. A bowl of green punch sat on a table to the side, surrounded by bowls of candy and platters of snacks. An open bar was on the back wall, providing both normal booze, and Halloween themed drinks topped with gummy worms or syrup made to look like blood. To the right of the bar was a door to the large rooftop balcony which held tall, dark-green potted hedges, perfectly trimmed and shaped underneath rows of charming fairy lights. Beyond the shrubbery, the deck had several nice patio tables and chairs, a few people catching their breath outside or chatting, and a gorgeous view of the city below with the sparkling sky above.

Back inside and off to the right of the patio door, away from the dance floor, was a door which you assumed was the restroom, based on the long line of women.

"I'd like you to meet some people, if you feel up to it," Pedro yelled to be heard over the booming music from the dj.

"Okay!" You yelled back.

He led you over to a couple of people off to the side of the dance floor, one you recognized as his friend Sarah Paulson, who was dressed in a shimmery witch costume.

Pedro introduced the two of you. Sarah was very sweet, and while you talked music and acting, Pedro touched your shoulder and spoke into your ear to avoid yelling. "I'm going to grab a drink, can I get you anything?"

"I'll just take a soda, thanks!" Although some alcohol might help your nerves, you wanted to maintain a clear head and maybe not do or say something to Pedro that you might regret.

"You got it," he replied, turning on his heel towards the bar.

Once he had left, Sarah gave you a look.

"What?" you laughed.

"You know, he talks about you all the time. I know you already love some other guy based on that hit song of yours, but I gotta say I think he might be smitten with you."

"Oh please, no he isn't. We're just friends!" You smiled at the idea, but inside, you kept hearing the bouncer's words on repeat. There's no way Pedro could have feelings for you. Even if you wanted him to have those feelings more than anything, it couldn't be.

"Whatever you say," she said with a smirk.

A pause before she added "just… don't hurt him. I know you love someone else, but he's a good guy," she pleaded, letting her protective side show.

On his way back from the bar, Pedro ran into Oscar, whom he tagged up with and headed back to your small group. "This is my friend Oscar," said Pedro, introducing you to Oscar as his friend.

Friend. Remember that. Friend. That's all. All you'll ever be.

"Nice to meet you Oscar!" You gave him a cherry smile.

"Nice to finally meet the woman of the hour! Pedro here just won't shut up about you," he said with a smirk, looking at Pedro mischievously. Pedro blushed and looked into his drink cup, taking a sip while trying to hide himself.

"Yep! It's always 'she said this, she said that, can you believe she can do that? She's so smart, funny, sweet…' yada yada yada," he said, smirking again and taking a side glance at Pedro, who choked on his soda. "Shut. Up. Oscar." He quietly threatened through clenched teeth. But despite his quiet tone and a loud party, you heard him.

I mean, I say kind things about my friends that way sometimes. It's nice he's so appreciative of his friends. Because that's what I am. A friend.

Sarah chimes in. "That's what I was telling her! But she claims they're just friends," she air-quotes around the words 'just friends.'

Pedro's heart sank. He knew deep down that's all you were to him, but hearing it second-hand from you still hurt. Just friends… he thought.

"Yeah right," Oscar rolled his eyes, talking to Sarah as if the two of you weren't standing literally right next to them.

"Believe what you want Oscar, but it's true," Pedro answered with a shrug.

Now it was your turn to feel heartbroken. Just friends… you thought.

You cleared your throat, "anyway, I'm going to go get another soda. Can I get anyone anything?" They all answered no, and you headed for the bar.

Deep in your thoughts, you walked over to the bar when a woman slammed into you. She spilled her red, bloody Halloween cocktail drink all down the front of your costume. "Watch where you're going, fat bitch," said the woman, appropriately dressed in a devil costume, her skin-tight red dress barely covering her ass and breasts.

You sighed. At this point you decided to skip the refill and head toward the bathroom to clean up your now wet front. You looked back to see the devil herself headed right towards Pedro's direction. Typical, you thought with an eye roll. She wants him and is mad I was talking to him.

You turned away from that scene and reached the line to the bathroom. It was lengthy, but luckily it was moving fast. Once inside, you finally could let your emotions out a little bit. You wanted to put on a brave face for Pedro and not ruin his evening, but ever since the bouncer made his comments, you couldn't get them out of your head. And now with that woman spilling her drink on you, you had another reason to be upset. You felt undeserving to be here to begin with, and their comments really solidified the imposter syndrome.

Despite wanting so desperately to see Pedro in the flesh, you hadn't even been able to really make eye contact all evening. Your nerves about meeting him were still there, but now you were just upset about the whole night. Even though you wanted to look at him, really see him, you felt like you didn't deserve it; and your nerves warned you not to look or else he'd figure you out.

If he realizes I like him, it's game over. It'll be like that guy I liked before. He'll eventually say it's weird. Weird for me to have a crush on him, weird for me to touch him, weird for the two of us to talk about relationships or sex. It's 'weird' with you.

You really started to hate that word; weird.

Perhaps you were destined to be a single hermit forever. Or maybe just become a nun.

Cleaned up and having let enough tears out for a couple more hours, at least until you could go home and really cry, you walked out of the bathroom. Heading back toward Pedro, you saw a tall, thin, beautiful woman wearing a tight black dress with a slit down the thigh and skeleton makeup on her face.

The woman was standing close to Pedro when you saw her touch his bicep. Slowly running her hand down his forearm, she batted her eyelashes and twirled her hair with her other hand. She said something to him you couldn't hear, but the two of them began to smile, Pedro's eyes growing wide with his grin. He said something to her and they both laughed, him throwing his upper half forward in a classic Pedro laugh.

That's it. I can't do it. I can't be here and see this.

Turning on your heel, you made for the patio door. The crisp air hit your face, urging the tears to fall immediately.

_____

Pedro laughed as the woman, Tricia, held up both hands in defense. "I SWEAR, Pedro. That's what she did. She touched my arm like that, twirled her hair, batted her eyelashes, and said "hey baby. Come here often?"

Pedro laughed, "oh man, that's so cheesy."

"I know!" Tricia laughed, holding her stomach.

Pedro raised an eyebrow. "Okay, you agree it's cheesy, yet I feel like every time I've seen you two together tonight, you're the one that can't keep your hands off of her," he stated with a sassy smirk.

"Alright, you caught me," Tricia replied with a laugh, right as her girlfriend Sam walked up in a matching skeleton costume. Sam handed Tricia a cup of purple liquid and asked what they were laughing about.

"I asked how you two got together," Pedro replied with a chuckle.

"Oh, gosh, I can only imagine how she's spun the story this time!" Sam replied with an eye roll and a quick kiss to Tricia's lips. Seeing the two love-birds kiss made Pedro long to experience that with you.

Where did she go? There's no way she's still getting a drink.

He excused himself and headed towards the bar, but you weren't there. Then he walked towards the bathroom to check the line. Nope.

Finally he looked to the left and saw you, leaning against the balcony which overlooked the city.

He pulled the sliding door open, slipping outside into the cool October night. The patio was mostly empty, apart from a few stragglers on the far side of the rooftop, sitting at the patio furniture underneath a heat lamp. Most of the guests had gone inside when the temperature began to dip. He walked towards you, saying your name to gain your attention, but you didn't turn. Too deep in your thoughts.

"Are you okay? What are you doing out here all alone?" He touched your shoulder gently.

Startled, you tried to quietly sniffle and wipe your wet eyes without him noticing, careful to avoid smudging your mascara.

You turned to face him, planting another fake smile on your face. "Yeah I'm fine, just needed some air, that's all. You?"

"I can tell you're not okay. What's wrong?" He frowned, stepping closer to you and eyeing the red stain on your dress. Confusion laced across his face.

You stepped back a half-step away from his touch. "It's nothing, it just seems it isn't my night I guess… but you look like you're having fun. Get back in there and dance with Sarah and Oscar," you said with a gentle smile. "I think I might head out. Skipper is probably wondering where I am, anyway."

"I'm sorry you're not having a good time. Let me at least give you a ride home," he pleaded with his brown eyes. This was the first time all night you had actually made eye contact with him, finally seeing just how handsome he really was in person.

Yeah. There's no way he'd go for me. That's for sure.

"No, no please, you stay, I'll just get an Uber. It's fine! Thank you for inviting me tonight though, Pedro. That was really sweet of you."

"I'm not letting you take an Uber home when I'm right here."

"No, dont. I don't want you to miss the party…" you added.

"I've partied enough tonight. Come on, I'm taking you home. No arguments," he pressed, puppy dog eyes unwavering in his demand.

Seriously this man could get away with murder the way he looks with those eyes.

"Okay. Fine, if you really don't mind," you finally agreed, not that it was even an option.

He gave a quick explanation to his friends with a brief wave before the two of you headed out the front door. You scowled at the guard as you walked past.

Thanks for ruining my night, asshole.

After receiving his car from the valet, Pedro pulled open the passenger door for you, gesturing for you to climb inside.

Nobody has ever opened the car door for me before, other than my dad.

What a gentleman...

Just because you were upset didn't mean you weren't zapped with a feeling of adrenaline and love at his chivalrous action. Whoever ends up with him is a lucky person.

You climbed in the passenger seat and he went around the car, entering the driver's side.

Not only did you feel like you ruined the party, but you worry you may have ruined your shot altogether. Why would Pedro want you after you didn't even talk to him your first night out together?

_____

*Pedro's POV*

As he climbed into his seat, buckling up and starting the ignition, he couldn't help but wonder where the night went wrong.

Did I say something to offend her?

He began to replay all the conversations you'd had tonight, trying to figure out when your sadness began and what could have caused it.

The party conversations? The texts? The phone calls?

Nothing came to mind, which worried him even more that he could be so ignorant to have said something hurtful without realizing.

Pedro looked over at you in his passenger seat. You were curled toward the side, arms scrunched toward your body and looking out the window. Silent. Just the occasional sound of a sniffle, or a road direction for him to take toward your house.

He wanted so badly to reach over and touch you. Hold your hand and rub his thumb over your fingers to comfort you in any way possible while driving. Then, he'd pull you into his arms the second you two got out of the car.

But he knew he couldn't. You weren't his to hold.

Was her crush at the party too? Could he have hurt her somehow?

He felt anger flare into his system at whatever could have made you cry. You deserved the world and he wished he could spend every day trying to prove it to you.

_____

*Back to your perspective*

About 20 minutes later, you quietly said "this is me."

Pedro put the car in park, and told you to wait. Confused, you sat, but he ran around the car and opened the door for you.

What. The. Hell. Is he real?

You stood from the car, fluffing down your ruined princess dress. "Thank you Pedro. You really didn't have to give me a ride, I feel bad you went out of your way. I'm sorry if I ruined your night."

"Hey, whoa, don't apologize. There's no way you ruined my night, and don't worry about the ride. I feel better knowing you made it home safely from me than some taxi service," Pedro placed his hand on his heart.

"Well, thank you either way. It was nice getting to finally meet you in person…"

"It was nice meeting you too," he shifted his weight, awkwardly wondering how to proceed.

"You should go. Get back to your party before you miss anything else! I'm sure Oscar and Sarah miss you," you prompted.

"Oh, I'm not going back. I'll just call it a night and head home. It's not as fun without my date, anyway." He smirked, and you couldn't help but wonder if he was flirting with you. Probably just being nice.

"You aren't going back??"

"Nah, I'm good. But…" he rubbed the back of his neck with his palm.

"What?" You felt nervous.

"Can I ask why you're so upset? You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. It's just… if I did something or said something to upset you… I'm so sorry," he said, and you could actually feel the genuine sadness in his voice.

"Oh, Pedro. No. You did nothing wrong. It's just," you sighed. "Do you want to come in?"

You worried about asking and seeming too forward, but now that it's out there it can't be taken back.

Friends go over to other friend's houses. It's totally fine and normal.

"I, uh, sure," Pedro stumbled over his words. "I'd love to. If you don't mind." He seemed nervous and a little surprised at your invitation.

You unlocked your door and the two of you entered. Instantly, you were greeted by your boy, who was all too happy to have a new friend. His tail wagged, smacking against nearby surfaces.

Pedro's face lit up instantly, and he crouched down to Skip's level. Letting Skipper get a good sniff, you heard Pedro gently coo to your dog. "Hi buddy!! I'm Pedro. I've heard so much about you." He scratched behind his ears.

Your heart swelled. Here they were, two of your favorite boys, bonding like old friends.

Pedro stood up again, giving a final scratch to Skipper's head before turning to you. "So, do you want to talk about it? What happened tonight?"

You ushered him to the kitchen table, asking him if he would like a drink. "Sure, thanks. Just water, please."

You poured two glasses of water and sat at the table near him, finally delving into the events of the evening. You told him about the bouncer and the woman with her drink. "I also saw that one girl talking to you and being really touchy and flirty and I felt like I was intruding."

I was also really fucking jealous…

"Wait, what girl?"

He repeated the evening's events through his mind. He wasn't flirting or being touchy? Who were you - Oh. Tricia, when she was describing Sam. Were you jealous of her? He allowed his mind to wonder, slightly hopeful that you might want more.

"I guess I just… I don't really feel like I fit in here. I don't look like I fit in here. I don't act like I fit in here. I honestly don't even know why you're as nice to me as you are. I wonder why you want to be my friend. Not that I'm not happy about it, because I am, but-"

He cut off your ramblings. "Whoa, whoa, hey. Sweetheart. You belong here. People just don't know you yet. That bouncer was totally out of line and a complete asshole. That woman, who spilled her drink on you, was rude, offensive, and nasty; and I don't tolerate that kind of behavior. Especially towards those I care about. The second she came over, I could tell she was a snake. I didn't give her the time of day. And lastly, the girl you saw being touchy was my friend Tricia. She was describing how her girlfriend picked her up in a bar," he laughed.

"Oh," you listened to his words, still not making eye contact, looking at your hands on the table.

"And as for you," he prompted, "I'm nice to you because you deserve it. You're sweet and funny, and I'm so thankful to have met you. I talk to you because I like talking to you. I enjoy spending time with you, whether it's on the phone, or, even better, when I get to see your face. Although I have to say I hate to see it crying." He brushed away a tear from your cheek, and you gave a small laugh, wiping the rest of your face.

"Thanks Pedro. I'm sorry if I brought down your night. I just really wanted tonight to be special, and it felt like my carriage turned back into a pumpkin before I even started." You gave another defeated laugh.

"You didn't ruin my night. If anything I'm just disappointed you didn't say anything, so I could help cheer you up or we could go do something else." He paused, brushing your hair from your eyes. "By the way, I never did get to tell you how beautiful you look in that dress, princesa."

Your cheeks heated under his gaze. "T-thanks Pedro. You look pretty handsome there, yourself," you answered nervously. It was the first time you had truly looked at him all night, and he was more beautiful than you ever could have imagined. Even pictures didn't do him justice. Dressed in a white suit with golden epaulets and golden buttons on the jacket, he was the most charming prince you'd ever seen.

Pedro rubbed his neck. "Thank you." He smiled. "But, hey, just because the night didn't go your way doesn't mean we can't turn it around."

You smirked. "That's true. Do you wanna watch a movie or something? Because if so, I think I might change out of this costume real quick," you began to stand.

"Whoa, not so fast princesa," he grabbed your arm.

You turned and gave him a confused look.

"Not before I share a dance with you in that dress. I've been waiting all night," he held out his hand.

"Really?" The grin on your face lit up, and you pulled him towards your music room where you stored your records.

"Wow. This is amazing. You have so many records and instruments in here! Is this where you write your music, too?"

"Yep! Here's where the magic happens," you answered with a laugh, pulling out an old record filled with slow love songs of the 50's and 60's. You placed the needle on the record, hearing a soft crackle as it began to play.

Pedro pulled you into his chest, grabbing your right hand with his left and gently placing his right hand on your waist. You slid your left hand up to his shoulder and smiled up at him as the two of you gently swayed to the music.

One song turned into two. Then three, and finally four; the two of you holding each other, silent except for the soft music turning from your record player on the desk. At some point you took the risk and decided to rest your face on his chest while the two of you swayed. His head rested on top of yours, both of you breathing softly, eyes closed, with you listening to the rhythmic drumming of his heart in his chest.

The record crackled with the end of the first side and the two of you looked at each other. You didn't miss the quick glance he stole from your eyes down to your lips, and you began to slowly lean closer.

Is this it?! Am I finally going to have my first kiss?!

You continued leaning closer, both his and your eyes gently closing. You could feel his breath fanning across your nose when-

Clunk clunk clunk. Pant pant. Whine.

You and Pedro opened your eyes, confusion painting your expressions as you turned your faces away from each other towards the sound. Still held in each other's arms, you peeled your eyes away from each other to see Skipper looking at you both with a big doggy grin on his face. His tail smacked the table with a thump thump, and he let out soft little whines and coos for attention.

The two of you laughed, the moment over, as you both kneeled down to give pets while Skip wedged between the two of you. Although you were disappointed the kiss was interrupted, you can't be mad at such a cute face. Still scratching your dog, you looked across to Pedro on the other side of Skipper. The two of you shared a soft look and smile, filled with so many unsaid words and feelings.

"So, uh.. how about that movie?" Pedro asked, still smiling.

______

You changed out of your princess costume into a comfier movie watching outfit and he changed out of his prince costume. He had some clothes in his car, which he changed into, looking handsome as ever. He wore a navy blue sweater with jeans, both fitting him perfectly. The two of you settled on your couch and turned on a movie. Although you sat next to each other, you kept a friendly distance, neither of you wanting to push the other too far.

As the movie rolled on, you had a hard time focusing on the plot with him so close. He looked so cozy and soft, you just wanted to climb in his lap. You wanted him to hold your hand. You wanted to finish that kiss. He smelled nice, he looked nice, and you wanted him more than anything else in this world.

Without realizing it, you gravitated closer. Your body inched toward him, and without him realizing it, he inched closer as well. It wasn't long until your leg was brushed against his. Just the slight touch of his leg on yours was enough to send an electric feeling pulsing through your body. The tension was as tight as an electrical cable, slowly fraying until it eventually snaps into sparks.

Pedro's fingers twitched at his side, his jaw clenching and unclenching. Your eyes kept sneakily darting over to him, his doing the same at opposite times. Your hearts were racing, breathing quick and shallow. The movie finally ended, neither of you able to tell someone the storyline if asked.

You nervously turned towards Pedro, rubbing the back of your neck. "So that was some movie…"

"Yeah, that ending… it was-" his eyes darted to your lips. "Something." He looked into your eyes, hand settling on your thigh as the two of you once again began to lean in closer. You had just shut your eyes, noses brushing together, when he pulled away.

What the heeeeeeeellllll??? Whyyyy!?

You couldn't help but let out a whimper as you opened your eyes after the second failed kiss of the evening.

Pedro sat with his elbows on his lap, holding his face in his hands. "I'm so sorry…"

"What? Pedro? Why are you sorry? What's wrong? Did I - did I do something wrong?"

Do I smell bad? Does he not like me? Was this some sick joke?

"I don't know what I'm doing. I'm sorry. I let my feelings get in the way, and I shouldn't have done that. You're in love with someone else. I can't steal your first kiss. You deserve to have it with the man you really love."

"Pedro-" you tried to pry his hand from his face.

"No. I'm sorry if I ruined things. I should probably leave-" he began to stand up, but you grabbed his forearm and pulled him back down.

"Stop. Pedro," you begged.

He sat back down, looking into your eyes guiltily.

You continued. "Please don't apologize. I wanted you to kiss me…"

"But that guy in your song. You deserve to be with him. I've been letting my feelings take over and stealing all your time away on the phone and text, video chat, and now in person. I almost stole your first kiss from you twice tonight and-" he rambled on, once again throwing his hands over his face before you interrupted him again.

"Pedro.." you pulled his hand away from his face, leaving yours to hold his cheek instead, but he still avoided your eyes. Taking a deep breath, you figured it was time to take the plunge.

"It's you, Pedro."

His eyes glanced up to yours. "What?"

"It's you. It's always been you. You're the one I like."

"Wait, so you mean-"

"Yes. The songs, the interviews, our chats… I've been talking about you this whole time. I really, really, like you."

Pedro gave a gentle smile, leaning his face into your hand. "I like you too, baby," he whispered.

His hand moved from his cheek to yours and the two of you leaned in. Closing your eyes, you brushed your noses together before you whispered "please kiss me.

You could feel a soft smile as he pressed his lips to yours, first gentle and soft, then stronger and more desperate. Although the kiss was still very tame, you could both feel all the emotions you've been harboring for each other for so long.

Breathless, the two of you pulled back, falling into a gentle laughter. "You don't know how long I've been waiting for that kiss," you spoke softly, wanting to keep the words as quiet as possible, heard only within the tiny bubble you currently shared.

"Me too," he smiled, pressing another kiss to your lips.

"I think you were worth the wait," you pecked his lips.

"I think you were too," he rested his head on your forehead with his hand on your neck, lightly stroking over your hair.

"I like you." You giggled.

"I like you too." He grinned. "But, you know, if I remember correctly, 'like' wasn't the word you used in your song…" he teased.

Your stomach flipped. "I don't want to scare you off too soon, P."

"You won't, sweetheart. You couldn't if you tried. I feel the same way." He kissed your forehead.

You looked at him, and feeling slightly nervous, yet calmed by his deep brown eyes, you told him those important words that have been spilling from your chest in silence.

"I love you Pedro."

"I love you too," he grabbed your face, once again pressing a kiss to your lips, this one much deeper than the others, before pulling you into his arms. The two of you were finally together. Finally you had love. All the things you wanted were coming true.

Turns out you got your happily ever after tonight after all.

__________

To be continued...

That's all for now! I hope you liked this chapter. I've received a lot of kind messages and DMs saying how much you guys relate to the reader and I just want to say thank you. It really means a lot to me that people are finding something to relate to. I'm essentially just using this fic as my diary, because she is pretty much just me. So to see others feeling the same way, it makes my heart so full! I send hugs to all of you.

Next Chapter! Here!

Taglist: (Want in? Let me know!) If I forget to add anyone, I'm sorry!

@pedrotonin @starcrossed02 @lightupsketchersperson @cartoon-garbage04 @tyferbebe @maryfanson @gwendibley84 @faithfullyyours2000 @brilliantopposite187 @hc-geralt-23 @jenniferpendragon @winchestergypsy90 @red-red-rogue @theendwhereibegin @lottieellz101 @oliversaurus @kyga01 @milly-louise @titabel @taz-97 @stefanibear003 @marantha @fandomoniumflurry @ilovemybrown-eyedbabygirl

[mythicalmyles]

— request,

all characters are 18+

"why do i need a babysitter?! im an adult!" with hoody and masky?

the reader still lives with their parents and while his parents are going out for the night they decide to ask the boys next door if they can babysit their son while they go out for the night.

and, of course they say yes! they've both seen their neighbors son, seen his skin from when he got dressed and forgot to shut his curtains. god they've seen him. and have become, somewhat obsessed, you could say. if obsessed meant raw-dogging him and fucking his throat, of course.

this is the perfect chance for them to finally take what's theirs. besides, the neighbors son would probably even enjoy it. seems like the type to anyway.

– [💤 anon. ]

reader is rich and dumb (goals) sorry for short and skippy beginning hope this is okay

(if ur american underage drinking if ur normal no underage drinking)

(Name) huffed out another aggravated sigh as he stomped away from his parents. They were way too over protective and it was driving him insane, he couldn't believe they'd asked their brand new neighbours to babysit their eighteen year old son. He was so embarrassed, they must think he's completely incapable.

Fair enough he couldn't cook.. Was use to the maids taking care of his every need and he certainly understood they deserved a break but.. They could hire more.

He threw his door open, lips pulled into a pout as he began stripping off. He was too focused on his current predicament to close the curtains as he yanked his clothes off.

_____________________________

Masky couldn't have begged the God's for a better sight then he currently had, he couldn't take his eye's away from his neighbours cute son changing. In his defence the dude hadn't closed his curtains, he may as well have given Masky permission.

"What are you looking at?" Masky barley flinched as his partner popped up besides him, instead nodding towards (Name). "Oooh." Masky smirked at his response. "We're gonna be all alone with him for a week." Hoody's face morphed into a smirk. "He's pretty." Masky hummed in agreement, thoughts of stuffing (Name) spreading through his brain.

Masky figured he'd be loud and sensative, those huge innocent eyes popping into his mind already has his cock standing to attention. He smirked hit the table softly and stood. "Two days... Two days."

_________________________

(Name) hadn't bothered bidding his parents goodbye when they finally left, awkwardly introducing himself to the two slightly older men. (Name) couldn't deny the flush that coated his cheeks when he had met Tim's eyes. Something about them sent shivers down his spine, he hadn't quite gotten a read on Brian though. His face was completely blank.

They had sat in awkward silence in the livingroom, (Name) barley had the balls to look at them instead choosing to cross his arms and look at his lap. “Booze?” (name) jolted in place head snapping to Tim. “What?” Masky tried to hold in a laugh at the dumb look on (Names) face, instead he reworded his sentance. “Alcohol? Do you have it?”

“Oh uh, I can show you.” (Name) mumbled standing up and making his way into the kitchen, he opened the fridge and a cooled cupboard next to it. He gestured and Masky’s eyes bugged out. “I knew you were rich but fuck.” (Name) shrugged it off, wasnt his money.

“You drink?” (Name) shook his head. “Only drank like one last year.” He chuckled. Masky tutted. “Glasses? We have to fix that.” (Name) pursed his lips, he felt nervous. “What? Scared? No wonder you’re parents got you baby sitters.”

(Names) face went red. “I am an adult! Im not scared! I just.. Haven’t been drunk before.” Masky patted his back. “Dont worry, me and Brian will take goood care of you.” (Name) relented, missing the cat like smirk that had snuck onto Masky’s face.

“Go sit.” Masky pointed towards the living-room, back where Brian had stayed. (Name) nodded and headed through, sitting in silence.

Luckily Masky wasnt long before coming through, three drinks balancing in his hands. He gave one to (Name) who stared at the glass nervously as Masky handed Hoody his drink and took a seat.

“Go on then.” Masky pushed, (Name) licked his lips before picking up the glass. The last drink of alcohol he had had been vile, it felt like burning when he drank it. He closed his eyes and quickly took a sip, eyes shooting open as sweetness danced over his tongue.

It tasted like fruit juice, he quickly chugged the glass down. Masky cheered as he cleared it, clapping after and patting him on the back one he roughly put the glass back on the table.

(Names) head spun,. “Can i have more?” Masky laughed and quickly stood to make him one, this time a little stronger.

(Name) wasn’t as quick with this one, the three of them begining to flow into conversation. Asking (Name) if he’d graduated yet, if he worked and lots more questions.

Normally (Name) was shy when all attention was on him but with his swaying mind he found himself happily answering everything they threw at him.

Brian and Tim had raced ahead of him, on their fifth by the time he’d gotten halfway through his third. They’d thrown on some music at some point but it hadnt halted the conversation. Somewhere down the line (Name) had ended up nestled inbetween the two, he kept bursting into giggles, sometimes even over nothing.

(Name) didn’t flinch when Masky dropped his hand onto his thigh, even when Masky's hand started stroking slowly up his leg. His eye's had flicked down though and his cheeks were red, so Masky knew he'd noticed.

Hoody's hand soon joined him, mirroring his movement's on (Name's) other thigh. (Name's) breathing picked up and Masky didn't think the he could get any redder. "You okay?" (Name) nodded. "Yeah" He took a deep swallow, saliva suddenly flooding his mouth.

Masky smirked, he didn't know how much longer he could honestly hold off. (Name) looked so pretty all flushed, pupils wide. Masky boldly pressed his hand against (Names) hardening cock causing him to gasp and grind into Masky's hand. Brian's hand slipped up under his shirt, quickly latching to a nipple and playing with the bud.

The moan that left (Name) was like music to his ears and Masky began grinding his hand against (Name's) cock. (Name) threw his head back and arched against the couch, a loud moan tore through his throat.

"G-" (Name) cut himself off and scrunched his eyes closed. "Like that?" Masky's voice was deep and it went straight to (Name's) cock. "So pretty." Hoody's voice came as a surprise, (Names) head immedietly shooting to him. He'd barley spoken the whole night and (Name) really wanted to hear him compliment him more.

Masky unbuckled his belt as Hoody pulled off his shirt, Hoody left his arms and quicly made his way back to (Names) nipples. This time he choose to circle his tongue around (Names) nipples, (Name) squirmed in response. Masky used one of his hands to pin (Names) hips to the couch as his other began jacking him off.

(Name) quickly melted into moans, giving the others free reign over him. “I wonder how your mom would feel knowing how loud you’re moaning for your babysitters.” (Name) flushed and looked at him. “N-no ple-.” Masky was quick to cut him off.

“Oh dont you worry, they wont know.” Maskys hand left his hip to wrap lightly around his neck, he easily pulled (Name) into a deep sloppy kiss.

(Names) stomach lit on fire, he found it hard to keep up his thought as alcohol clouded his mind and their touch filled his senses.

He let out a small squeak as a lubricated finger pushed into him, his eyes shooting to Hoody who smirked. (Name) bit his lip as Hoodys finger fucked into him, (Names) eyes were lidded as he laid back against the couch.

“You’re gonna look so pretty all stuffed up.” (Name) shuddered and groaned, his words having more of an effect then he felt they should have. Masky quickly pushed their lips together, tongue pushing into (Names) mouth.

(Name) didn’t put up much of a fight against Masky, letting him take the lead. Hoody slid another finger in causing (Name) to let out a high pitched keen, Hoody scissored his fingers trying to stretch (Name).

Once (Name) relaxed Hoody wasted no time slipping a third in, (Name) let out a pained groan but Masky’s mouth kept him distracted. Masky’s hands slipped down (Names) chest, playing with his nipples. Masky’s hands didnt stay in once place for too long, they constantly explored him.

(Names) stomach dropped as Hoody pulled his fingers out, the duo chuckled at his whine. Masky sat back against the sofa and pulled (Name) onto his lap, he pulled his cock out of his jeans and rubbed it against (Names) hole. “W-will it even fit?” Masky reassured him before latching onto his neck and sucking deep bruises up the column of his throat.

(Name) arched back and groaned as Masky slowly pushed in, it took Masky a minute to fully bottom out, (Name) was tight and it took everything for Masky not to push him forward and take him. He let out a deep breath, he had to be patient.

His hands gripped (Names) thighs, circling his hips against his cock as he panted against the back of (Names) neck. (Name) moaned brokenly with every grind of Maskys cock against his prostate, Hoody had taken to sucking bruises up his chest and playing with his cock.

(Name) felt like he was going to implode, pleasure hit him like a truck and it didn’t take long for him to cum grinding back on Masky’s cock.

Hoody stood up, hand gripping (Names) hair pulling his mouth to his cock as his free hand undid his belt. (Name) whined due to the friction inside his sensitive hole but followed Hoody nonetheless.

(Name) happily took Hoody into his mouth, choking when Hoody pushed further into his throat then he’d anticipated. Despite his gagging Hoody kept fucking his mouth, the tight wet heat driving him nuts.

Masky had also given up on being gentle, choosing to sharply thrust into (Name) who moaned around Hoody’s cock.

The vibrations almost had Hoody’s knees buckling as his thrusts got sloppier, (Name) groaned as drool dripped out of his mouth and ran down his neck.

“Wait.” Masky ordered, Hoody paused, balls deep in (Names) mouth. “What?” (Name) gagged as he was pulled off of Hoodies cock, he flopped against Masky’s chest taking in deep breaths of air.

“You sit.” Masky stood up and spun them around, positioning (Name) in between Hoody’s legs. His hands pushed down on (Names) shoulder and he manoeuvred himself in between Hoody’s thighs. Hoody didnt waste time slipping back jnto his mouth as Masky settled behind (Name). His hands gripe (Names) hips tightly before he alines his cock with (Names) hole.

He pushed in with more ease, quickly picking up his thrusts. His thrusts would push him further on Hoody’s cock and the sound of (Name) choking only spurred them on. (Name) could feel himself come close to cuming again, his mind spinning.

He was overwhelmed with pleasure, his back was arched and he was pooled im Hoody’s lap. They had complete control as they spit roasted him, (Name) let out a scream around Hoody’s cock as he came, clenching hard on Masky’s cock.

Hoody spilled into his mouth, letting his cock slide out of (Names) mouth and paint his face with cum. Tears ran down (Names) face as oversensitivity filled him. “You are so pretty when you cry.” Hoody muttered before slipping his tongue into (Names) mouth, he whimpered as Masky’s thrusts picked up. It almost felt like he was being fucked by a beast.

Luckily for (Names) hole Masky didn’t last much longer, pumping him pull of cum before sitting back and allowing (Name) to fall back against his chest.

“This is going to be a fun week.” Hoody smirked.

[redmyeyes]

Pretend

Hawk left the election-night party hungry for brown doe eyes and a wide smile with milk-stained lips.

For a moment, when he had brushed past the boy on his way out, Hawk had been sorely tempted. A single nod, and the boy would've followed him out, Hawk was sure of it. They had locked eyes when Hawk was at the door, and the look of unabashed hope on the boy's face had Hawk nearly breaking every rule he'd laid down for himself. First and foremost, never fuck around in the political circles. Or, as they said in the war, don't shit where you eat. Still. He could've had the boy on his knees right this second. Or pressed against a wall. On all fours… He seemed so young. Hawk might have been his first. What an intoxicating thought. To ruin a boy so innocent.

The boy in the bathhouse, from a distance, had the right look about him. Young, and with his cap pulled low, his ears stuck out a bit, almost like— his. Close up, the illusion faded. Face too pimpled, eyes not nearly as luminous, hair too curly, not the adorable mop of straight brown he wanted. Still, when Hawk gripped his jaw and plundered his mouth, he could almost pretend the the boy's moans were from someone else.

Skippy. The name came to him out of nowhere, memory of the boy toasting him with a full glass of milk playing on repeat in his head. Those wide glasses, the milk, the oversized tweed jacket and bowtie. The boy could've been all of twelve years old except for the way he'd looked at Hawk with such playful heat in his eyes. Christ, the way he'd doubled down on that glass of milk when Hawk had given him an incredulous look. That stubbornness. Flirting, without saying a word. And the way he'd basked in Hawk's attention, like he was lit up from inside.

"Your place. Now," he growled into the substitute's mouth. He could pretend, for a little while.

It was too easy to get the kid to take him home. Hawk wanted more of a dance. He wanted protests of, I could never, maybe demands that he be taken to dinner first. As if that were the way of things. Still, the kid was willing, and he got out of his clothes fast, and soon enough Hawk was thrusting into him from behind, as the kid gripped the bedposts.

His Skippy would be tight, not prepared in advance like this grifter. Hawk would have to prep him slow. He'd keep the boy on edge for hours as he worked him open. He'd look at Hawk with those big, wet eyes and beg and beg and beg and Hawk would finally relent, pushing inside so slow as Skippy clawed at his back, his back arching, his eyes clenching shut and Hawk would pause until those eyes opened again, whisper, look at me, keep looking, and he would hold him close, keep grinding in and in and in, breathing each other's air open-mouthed until the boy was moaning and clenching and shuddering and—

Hawk slammed home one last time as he shuddered through his own release, then pushed the kid off him and onto the bed. He was pretty sure the kid had come. He didn't much care.

Hawk sat on the edge of the bed and fished out a cigarette as the kid cleaned up behind him. Outside, the world was dark and silent. Skippy would probably be asleep by now, if he wasn't still at the party. He probably said his prayers like a good Christian boy before he went to bed. Hawk wondered if his face had crossed the boy's mind tonight as he lay there trying for sleep. If he'd touched himself, imagining what could have been.

Hawk took a puff of his cigarette and blew out acrid smoke. Stupid to think about. Fuck, the high always faded so damn fast.

Behind him, the kid started yammering, and Hawk pulled on his clothes, eager to make an exit. Better to forget. Better, always, to forget. To move on as quickly as possible. That was how you survived in this world.

Still, as Hawk shrugged on his jacket and made his way down the lonely nighttime street, he paused and looked up at the sky. The stars were obscured by clouds and light pollution, and for one painful heartbeat he yearned to see them. He thought, if he did ever see his Skippy again, he might have to take it as a sign from a god he didn't believe in, and act.

[gayerthanevertbh]

mommy’s little girl: 3

pairings: older!natasha x young!innocent!reader

warnings: natasha being a little pervy, angst, and slight fluff. 18+ MINORS DNI

notes: i’m sorry in advance. also, i would like to thank @karsonromanoff for this brilliant idea! except that… the end was a—

masterlist | navigation | kinktober masterlist

There are many times that I’ve truly felt unsafe. One time when I was at the beach house, my mother decided to invite a man that looked so much like my father that I didn’t realize they were “banging” each other the minute I walked into that room. I guess that was the first time I did feel unsafe, per se. Another one is that I was at a school dance and this boy was behind me and tried groping my ass. My old friend saw this action and was furious that the next day the boy had a very bad bruise on his face – which he deserves. That was the second time I felt unsafe. And the third time was with Natasha when we first had sex, although it was a mix of pleasure considering that I wanted that to happen between us. Maybe sometimes I worry too much, or maybe I’m scared of something and I can’t figure out what that is.

“How’s it feel, Y/n?”

“Hm?” I turned my head, only to see Wanda sitting near me as we watched the other students graduating from afar.

“Graduating,” she points out, smiling at me. “I mean, you’re a college girl now! Aren’t you excited?”

“I guess I am,” I said. “But I’m a little nervous, I don’t know why. I can’t explain it.”

“Of course, you can,” Wanda replied, looking up at the skies as she let the sun radiate her face. She was beautiful, but she never caught my interest. “You just have to figure that out now.”

“What if I don’t figure it out?”

She shrugs, then takes her cap off. Saying with a louder voice, “You will, you just need to catch it.” Before I could say anything, she walked away with a whimsical smile on her face – as if she was not having a bad day, which is understandable. She was a mystery to me, a big ball of mystery that I can’t figure out.

I walked home alone that afternoon, only to see a few boxes outside my porch, leaving me curious. Are they going on another business trip again? I thought cluelessly and went inside the house. Everything looked the same, the couches were still there and the shoe rack was still filled up with shoes. Only this time, I see a note on a counter in the kitchen area. I picked it up, wishing that I had never read it.

Get out of the house, you’re free. We don’t really care much if you will be contacting us, but you’re free. Your stuff is outside, including your cassette recorder that we spent on your birthday – too expensive anyway, have fun with your life.

There was no “Love, Mom” or “Love, Dad”, it was just a note that simply said they no longer wanted me in their home anymore. Are they disowning me? What have I done to make them feel like this? Assumptions and thoughts filled up in my head, and I realized that I was having a mere panic attack. I wanted to call Natasha, I wanted her to save me from this madness. But wouldn’t that be rude? Wouldn’t I be the one causing trouble? What if my parents were joking? What if they were pulling a prank like they always did?

Except that, when I checked the boxes, they were filled with all of my clothes and cassette tapes that I’ve recorded last year. Now, I am having a panic attack – and I don’t know how to stop it.

I called Natasha and hoped that she wouldn’t pick up too soon, but she did with a skippy voice.

“Congratulations, my love! I’m so proud of you, I’m actually wondering if–”

“Tasha,” I whispered out her name with a crack in my voice, trying to handle my distress. “I-I think I need you to pick me up.”

“Baby? What’s wrong?” she asked with a worried voice, which turns my stomach into knots – not knowing if it was good or bad. “Shh, baby… tell me what’s wrong. Do you want me to pick you up now?”

“I think now is very much needed.”

“Okay, I will. What happened, little girl? Who hurt you?”

“I think my parents just disowned me,” I sobbed through the speaker, clenching my shirt near my chest. “I-I don’t know what to do, all my stuff is here and I can’t breathe… I don’t–”

“Say less, I’m on my way. Just stay there, okay sweetheart? I’m coming to get you.”

Not even ten minutes later she was at the front porch, marching towards me as she picks me up with a warm tight hug, almost as if a bear is hugging my lifeless body. I felt weak, uneasy, and most of all – unsafe. But when she hugged me (like the first time that she ever did) I felt utterly safe again, and I knew no one was going to harm me. Not even her.

“It’s okay,” she coos, kissing the temple on my face. “I’m right here, little one. Tasha is here.”

Tasha, Tasha, Tasha…

She took me to her home the minute she came to me. At first, I hesitated. But she was the one who was offering and seemed like she was a little more desperate than she ever was. So I came back to her house and noticed a few changes. The pictures on her walls – that looked like a painting – were gone, as well as the white vase that was on top of a circular table that is only meant to be a display for the vase. I sat comfortably on her couch, letting the silence consume me while she helped out bringing the boxes inside her home.

“Do you want separate rooms for now?” she asked, looking down at me with sweat on her forehead. I wanted to say no and tell her that I wanted to stay in the same room with her, but I felt like that was a little too soon. We aren’t even officially dating, so I kept that distant thought in my head.

“If you want to.”

“Sweetheart,” she sighs and kneels in front of me as she places her hands on my knee, squeezing it gently. “It’s only a yes or a no. I wouldn’t mind us sleeping together, I mean… we’ve gone pretty intimate haven’t we?”

I blushed at the fact that she mentioned that and tried prying my face away but her other hand cupped my jaw and she leans close and kissed me on the lips. It was a brief kiss, and I wished she kissed me longer than that.

“Maybe stay in the guest room for the night? And you can decide whether you want to sleep in the same room as me or not,” she said, standing up with a groan. “Come on, baby girl. I’ll show you to your room.”

The guest room was far from the guest room. Everything looked too bright and happy, which I needed today. There was a big giant brown teddy bear in the corner and on the bed, a gray blanket was folded on top of the pillows. Natasha gave me an awkward smile and closed the door behind us, the atmosphere thickening.

“There’s a bear.” I said, pointing at it with my index finger; she simply nodded, knowing that there was in fact – a bear right in front of us.

“It could be yours.”

“R-Really?” I turned around, my eyes sparkling when she said that. Ever since I was just a little girl, teddy bears were my favorite things in the world. Without one, I’d be miserable like a dying cat. I remember my “mother” giving me a white teddy bear for Christmas that I no longer have, and I still miss it to this day. I wondered where that went, my silly little teddy bear.

“Yeah,” she responded with a sigh, her hands tucked into the pockets of her sweatpants. She leaned closer and whispered, “I could be your teddy bear instead, you know I like cuddling with my little girl.”

“I’m always goin’ to be your little girl,” I whispered back, kissing her lips with my shy mouth. She smiles on my lips and kisses me back, but with tongue. I didn’t mind, I like the way she kisses me most of the time. They’re hot and sensual, like when you watch movies and think about the person who you want to hold hands with. It’s that kind of kiss that would slip away and you have to catch it or else it’ll go away – that’s how I feel each time we kiss.

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever laid eyes on,” she sighs into my mouth, slowly bringing her hands down to my waist. Touching me with her hot breath against my chin. “I’ll make dinner for us both, okay? You just sit here and wait for me, maybe rest if you want.”

“Alright,” I nodded, smiling. “Call me when dinner’s ready.”

“I will, little angel.”

I was woken up by her hand touching my ankle, her lips close to my thigh. I blinked twice, before realizing that she was having a moment with my slumbered self. I wanted to say I was awake, but she seemed so… focused with my leg in front of her darker shade of green eyes. She kissed my ankle again and touched my inner thigh, mumbling: “What I could do to you” on my skin, which made me shiver in an uncomfortable matter with a mix of arousal in between.

“I love you,” she whispers with a mumble once again and gives an open mouth kiss on my inner thigh. “I love you, I love you, I love you…”

“Tasha…”

“You’re awake?” she asked with her face flushed, knowing that I’d noticed her kissing my ankle and my thigh. She quickly envelopes me with her hug and kisses the side of my face, tucking her head into my neck. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I just couldn’t help myself, that’s all…”

“Do you do that often with other women?” I asked, receiving a shake of her head.

“No, only you.”

“I must be special then,” am I special to you? “How long have you been doing that?”

“Not long ago,” she whispers, cuddling me close with her muscular arms that wrapped around me like a teddy bear. Except that, the teddy bear was hugging me instead of me hugging the teddy bear. “I’ve made pasta for us both, it’s with tomatoes. Do you like tomatoes?”

“I love tomatoes.”

“Good,” she said, smiling at me. She closed the distance between our lips and kissed each other, like two hungry teenagers. How ironic. Her hands were cupping my jaw now as she deepened her tongue inside of my mouth, feeling the tip of her tongue on the roof of my mouth. We never kissed like this, but this felt more sensual and meaningful – I could barely take it all in, everything was pouring down on the table too much. “I love you so much, I’m so glad you’re with me right now.”

“I’m glad too, Tasha–”

Riiiiinnnnng!

The sound of a doorbell came rushing from the house, and Natasha bolted up to see who it was. As I imagined her with a nonchalant face, she turned to me with a look that I could not identify what face she was giving me. Was it my parents? Who was at her door? Immediately, she went out and walked downstairs, making me follow her as well.

The door opened, and I was greeted by a woman standing with a tired face. She looked like she had come home from a bad trip at work, so I offered her a smile – which she didn’t give back.

“M-Maria?” Natasha was in shock, almost as if her face fell. I wondered why she was so shocked, maybe because she hasn’t seen her friend in such a long time that–

“Natasha,” the woman, Maria, replies with a mock of her tone. Except that, her voice was a lot meaner than hers. She crosses her arms and makes a tsk sound. “You never learn, do you?”

“What’s going on?” I asked quietly. Natasha turned to look at me and ushered me to go behind her, which I did. I mean, I do follow orders from people, even from her. When the tension gets hotter and weirder, the woman said: “Young lady, this is my wife. And she hasn’t gone home for a year.”

I knew my heart had shattered the minute she said this unnecessary information that I didn’t need to know, but yet – I still had to find out in a time like this where I needed Natasha. I could imagine Natasha’s face falling, and watched as her back slumped like a defeated person.

“I don’t understand–”

“She’s my wife,” she seethes, eyeing me with a disgusting look. “And she hasn’t come back home where she belongs.”

At that moment, I had two choices. One was to leave her and never come back or to stay and figure this all out. How could I be this stupid and innocent at the same time? Why did I not see the signs of her being married? At this point, I felt like a homewrecker; knowing that I was one already. I watch as Natasha turns to look at me and furiously shakes her head.

“I’m sorry," she lets out a sob that makes my heart break even more, as she tries to reach for my hands. "I'm so sorry, I'm sorry..."

That was the weakest apology I’ve ever heard from a grown up.

taglist: @setsuna1415 @shaniaauld03 @morinfoxixippy @wandanats-goodgirl @winter107th @katherineromanova @emsnape @wifeofnatasharomanoff @poppyfluffy02 @bigboobslilheart @hottestwhore @queen2234 @youralphawolf72 @rt–link @inluvwithfictionalwomen @daddynattt @ilovehotactresses @widdiball07 @zombieunicorngamerzu @boosthater​ @apollo2907​ @danveration​ @nyctophiliacatcher​

[the-eclectic-wonderer]

This is not prepared at all, so it's likely going to be messier than usual, but I was in the shower earlier thinking about the Golden Girls (as one does) and I drew a couple of conclusions on the topic of how many children does Blanche actually have? that I wanted to share with you all.

So, first of all, let me sum up the controversy. The issue lies with one of Blanche's statements in S3E3 Bringing Up Baby, when she's trying to convince Dorothy to keep the Mercedes she bought with the money they'll supposedly get after Baby's death:

"I want that car, Dorothy. I will give you anything. [...] I'll give you one of my sons. I have given this a lot of thought. I have had four kids, I have never had a Mercedes."

Ok, everything tracks so far. Blanche has had four kids, some of which are sons. We meet her two daughters, Janet and Rebecca, a few times during the series, so the natural conclusion is that Blanche has four kids, two sons and two daughters.

Which is great, except... her next line in S3E3 is this:

"What do you say? Which one do you want? Biff, Doug, Skippy? No, don't take Skippy, he's got asthma."

She names a Biff, a Doug, and a Skippy, so... three sons. Which, in addition to the two daughters we see in the show, makes for a grand total of five kids. Huh.

Alright, we know that Blanche wasn't the best mother ever, but I find it hard to believe that she forgot how many children she has, so: what's going on here? The obvious explanation is, as always, that this is a continuity error (although it's a really egregious one!), but you folks know I prefer to find a Watsonian explanation wherever I can, so let's see if we can figure out anything interesting.

One thing that struck me when I first realized this discrepancy is her use of the words 'I have had four kids'. Not I have, I have had. Why does she use the past tense here? The sentence flows better with it, but it doesn't make a lot of sense in-universe -- unless you think that she's using 'to have a child' to mean 'to bear a child'. If that's the case, then what she's saying translates to 'I have physically given birth to four kids, I have never had a Mercedes.'

I'm sure I don't have to point out the implications of this, do I? If the number of kids Blanche has given birth to is four, but her total number of kids is five, then that means that one of her kids is not hers in the strictly physical sense, i.e. one of Blanche's kids is adopted. This would solve the discrepancy without breaking the canon elsewhere (as far as I can tell, at least).

For a while, this idea remained in the back of my head to examine at a later date, because it still has a number of issues to work through. For one, why would Blanche (and supposedly George) adopt a child? They had kids of their own apparently without any issues -- why adopt another child, instead of, well... making another child, if they wanted one more? I guess it's possible that fertility issues might have arisen at some point, but that seems unlikely for a number of reasons; that kind of problem is generally genetic in nature, and it tends to be diagnosed upon first try, not after four successful pregnancies. So, then... why?

I was stuck on this point for a long while, until I suddenly remembered this conversation between Blanche and Virginia, her younger sister, during S5E11 Ebb Tide:

"I remember when you were 16 and didn't come home for Father's Day." "I was away at school!" "Oh, yes. The Good Samaritan Academy for the Knocked-Up. Two, four, six, eight, all us girls are three months late."

It seems Virginia got into a spot of trouble when she was 16, and was away 'at school' for a while to take care of it. While this might imply that she was sent away to have an abortion, there's also space to hypothesize that she was sent away to carry her pregnancy to term and actually have a baby to then give out to adoption. If this is the case... I wonder if this baby is the one that Blanche and George adopted?

While an adoption seems a bit out of character for young!Blanche (to me, at least: she wasn't interested in her kids, why would she agree to adopt another one?), I think there's some space to consider it. For one, George might have convinced her! We don't know enough about the man to draw clear conclusions, but he did send money to the one child he had out of matrimony (see S5E18 An Illegitimate Concern), so maybe he feels more responsible towards kids near him than Blanche did -- and, well, if he'd asked, Blanche would have agreed immediately, of course. I feel like Big Daddy might have also played a part in this scenario: he could have wanted to keep the child in the family (a Hollingsworth is still a Hollingsworth!), and asked the youngest married couple among his children to take on the responsibility, to shield Virginia from the shame.

Note that this theory has a few issues anyway. For one, while Virginia is Blanche's junior, according to Wikipedia she's only one year her junior, which would put Blanche at 17 when all this happened -- and we know she met and married George much later, when she was already a university student (see S6E9 Mrs George Devereaux). However, I can't find any confirmation for this difference in age in the show itself, so I feel like the hypothesis still deserves some consideration.

As for which of Blanche's children is adopted, well... we can for sure rule out the boys, since she mentions them all by name in S3E3. This leaves her two daughters, Janet and Rebecca. All throughout the series Blanche has a rocky and painful relationship with Janet, even more than she has with the rest of her children:

I would love to have a chance to raise David. I might make up for the mess I made with Janet. [S1E6 On Golden Girls]

Well, honey, I really do want to see you. I think we have a lot to talk about, Janet. I've been thinking a lot about you, lately. [S2E16 And Then There Was One]

"I just talked to my daughter, Janet, and she and my granddaughter, Sarah, are coming to visit in a couple of days. Oh, I've never been so happy!" "Janet? Isn't she the daughter who hates you?" "[...] She doesn't really hate me, Sophia. We just don't see eye to eye." [S7E23 Home Again, Rose: Part 1]

As for Rebecca, while we know they stopped talking for a few years due to a disagreement, she seems remarkably closer to her:

We were always so much alike, and so close, just like Siamese twins. [...] I have missed her. She's always been my favourite. [S3E14 Blanche's Little Girl]

Although Rebecca herself seems to have a different perception on their relationship:

You're not happy, Mama. You're doing it again, you're telling me how to live! [...] Nothing's ever enough for you. I had to be the prettiest, I had to be the most popular, I had to be the brightest... [S3E14 Blanche's Little Girl]

I think there's two possible theories here, neither of which paints Blanche in a good light (but hey, we love these characters because of their qualities as well as their faults, don't we?). If Janet is the child she adopted, I think it's possible she might have been especially neglectful towards her (especially in her first few years); she might have taken her frustration with being convinced to adopt her out on her, as a lack of affection when compared to her other kids. This would explain why the relationship between them is so fraught (certain wounds last a lifetime, I'm afraid).

If Rebecca is the child she adopted, on the other hand, she might have wanted to overcompensate for her abandonment and sort of one-up Virginia ('see, how well I can take care of your daughter? aren't I the better mom?'). She might have showered her with affection (and with expectations, judging from what Rebecca says!) to the detriment of her other kids, which would explain the issues in her relationship with Janet as well.

I don't know. It's obviously very clear that, for all her faults, Blanche adores her children and is deeply pained by her mistakes as a mother; she often expresses regret for her actions and wishes she'd been a better mother:

I realized, too late, that I'd put myself ahead of my children. I've never made up all the time I didn't spend with them. [...] deep down, I wish you were really mine. So I could try again with what I now know. [S2E16 And Then There Was One]

For all that might have happened in the past, it's evident that Blanche loves all her children equally and considers all of them her own, so she's clearly gotten over any issues she might have had -- but that doesn't excuse her past actions, of course.

There's a whole lot that could be said about Blanche's approach to motherhood, how it connects to the way her parents treated her as a child and to her own internal issues, but as for the question of how many children she has, I feel like this is a satisfying possible answer. It's not airtight by any means, and I'm sure there's other ways to explain the discrepancy (they might have adopted a child from George's side of the family, for one, which would change a lot of dynamics); this is just the one that occurred to me. As always, I'd love to hear everyone's thoughts, so do let me know your ideas about all this!

[bugbugdraws]

Just finished the last chapter of HTP. What an incredible final chapter, so amazingly constructed! @aquaquadrant you're amazing amazing. I liveblogged my thoughts as i was reading which I thought you might enjoy <3

Okay I’m a bit late starting writing down my thoughts but I think live-blogging this will be my only way of surviving these chapters.

Tango getting put back in the farm… WHAT. THE. HECK. God damn my heart, it was just as brutal as expected but I was not prepared… Im in pain

“And we can’t have you living a lie anymore, can we?” I SEE YOU AQUA, the lyrics from the Atlas song. That just took me out of it. You sneakkyyyy

Tango’s regretting the plan now ahhhhh, they didn’t remove the collar :S

Im having to pause because MY HEART IS HRUUTNG

Sudden realisation jimmy’s gonna find Tango in the farm like that D: 

Flashbacks to hours before when everyone is fine is FOUL, im getting whiplash 

(No, surely he’s not gonna…) -me and you both watchers

GRIAN WATCHERING IN JIMMYS HEAD, that’s so fucking funny get wrecked jimmy

MUMBO FRICKING JUMBO, the joy I feel right now almost makes me forget the pain of the present timeline 

Poor mumbo jumbo speed running  hels lore

we’ll… need you to go get X.” - the big guns coming in hot. I didn’t comprehend we’d get more characters in this chapter and im over the moon to see them! You write every single one so so well Aqua

“Right, okay…” Mumbo hesitates, scratching the back of his head. “Um, who’s Timmy?” I CAN HEAR MUMBO SAYING THIS, Aqua you never miss

Grian calling jimmy Tim and having to correct himself is such a nice touch

“Even knowin’ what would happen, I’d choose you a million times over.” HNGNNNNNN ARGH I love these stupid block men so much

Bravo seeing Tango’s ‘touches’ to the house, aww man 

(Intermission me going out for a meal and multiple bevs) 

Im not mentally or emotionally prepared for the rest of this

I love how you write everyone interacting. Even though there’s so many people no one is left out

Bravo forgetting Joel’s name hahah mr j

Bravo calling Tango ’skippy’ amuses me greatly

Timmy looking out in the overworld AHHh my heart

‘There’s a fragile stillness to him. Like a glass bottle on the edge of a table.’ - How do you come up with this poetic shit aqua wtf

Oh no, we’re addressing the eating D: Poor Timmy my heart

Me googling ‘shovel talk meaning’

I have beef with the metaphorical ocean that is tangos subconcious

Tango’s memories <3 No words, just happiness

Pt 2

Omg Brian not coming on the mission to keep Clear company is quiet amusing 

No one expects the surprise ravenger 

IMPULSE FULL DEMON MODE LETS GOOOO 

Jimmy and Bravo fighting together is so… I love it

Jimmy glad he didn’t make a tit of himself is so relatable. I feel ya bro

Omg they’re at the door, this is to intense for me

Oh god they found him 

HEEY HONEY TANGO CMON

Atlas is Widowmaker I swear, man is unstoppable with a crossbow!!

Bravo and tango fighting together now toooo, Jimmy’s preoccupied bless him

Atlas screaming is the most satisfying thing ever, get wrecked ya bastard

Omg tango has more wither stains now ahhh, that’s so heartbreaking

Tango chewing Atlas out is GLORIOUS

THEY’RE ATTACKING HIS SCIENCE, HIT HIM WHERE IT HURTS

‘Shoddy science’?! It was my magnum fucking opus!” - mans going through it, honestly what a line

Then he punches Atlas in the face. - god I hope his glasses are okay

Bravo steps forward to deliberately crush Atlas’s shades under his shoe. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

They made it through the portal :’ ) Tango embraced his blaze, and got one up on atlas <3 mannnnn im happy

bX just put Atlas through his second vocal beatdown of the day, daaamn

TIMMY GOT HIS BATH, THAT’S ALL I WANTED

Bravo giving Timmy a kiss on the check… im softboy right now, man I want them to be happy, please come back to him bravo

OHHH BOY DBUBS AND PATHO SEGMENT LETS GO

…

I AM UNHAPPY WITH THIS SEGMENT 

Okay I’ve been reading pretty intensely, it’s 2 in the morning, and suddenly STEVE??

HEROBRINE IS HELS ADMIN

I need to take a walk

Tango oh my god he’s gonna do it

He feels lighter oh my heart hug this man Jimmy

Im crying 

Well, it’s 3 in the morning. Aqua you’re amazing <3

[felloweeper]

differences from book -> series: the cufflinks.

context: [december 23, 1953] this is the scene where we're first introduced to the cufflinks. it's christmas and they're serving post-coital realness (i have no other way of explaining this rn).

this is one of the most dramatic differences between the book and the series, because what on earth. this is such a tender moment of rare openness from hawk in the series. it's such a clear declaration of love with the implication of possession and a what's-mine-is-yours kind of deal.

we get the same feeling in the book but in a much darker tone. we see, first of all, how small and undeserving tim feels in the presence of hawk. i'd go as far as to say tim uses the cufflinks to self-harm. "the way one forgets a pain in one place by introducing another somewhere else." tim is actively chasing the pain of loving this man away in the form of causing bodily harm to himself. (🚩 x a million.)

yes, there's tenderness in hawk giving the cufflinks to tim and going as far as putting them into his dress shirt himself -- but the number of times tim doesn't even let himself believe that it's a special thing for him is awful. he thinks he's so undeserving that, in the end, he convinces himself that they were his reward for not showing his emotions! and to add hawk's passiveness with "'i'm going to be late, skippy.'" ✋ don't get me started. the coldest cherry on top -- agh!

overall, this scene makes me feel sick. it's not at all like the series -- and thank god for that! the show made it so much more heartwarming and loving. they look happy, they look like they both love what the cufflinks symbolize -- they adore each other!

context: [april 7, 1954] this never made it into the series, but tim has a boss named tommy mcintyre who is very aware of the situation between tim and hawk, but doesn't really mind it. (this character kind of grew into the roy cohn moment which i thought was ridiculous but this is not the post for that.) klein is another assistant to a different senator who pops up like thrice when they're talking politics.

i really liked tommy as a character, i felt he had really great moments in the book i wished they'd kept in the series, but oh well. again, he knew about tim and hawk and would go as far as to tease them about it. anyway, this is a great example of tim's lies that "people like himself learned to construct a dozen times a day."

context: [december 25, 1954/april 22, 1957] tim is home for the holidays with his sister, frances, at their grandmother's. frances is older and is married with children.

how do i... like how do i even begin.

i put it best in my notes:

honestly, favorite character? absolutely tim's sister. she does everything i wish i could have done for tim -- she's such a supportive force of nature for him, it's so nice to see.

in the show, she's there for him while he's suffering from aids, so she's fully aware of the fact that he's gay and completely devotes all of her time to him anyway. in the book, she shows this unconditional love toward him in the best way she can when she recognizes he's in love with another man.

this is heartbreaking because, in my opinion, that was their escape. she was there and so willing to welcome hawk into her home -- without having ever met him -- because she saw how much tim loved and treasured him. she was ready to love him, too, and to include him in their family. i wonder, sometimes, what would have happened if she had actually ever met him. if that would've ever made a difference in hawk's decisions and the fate of their relationship.

and because tim can't be normal and recognize his self-worth for one second:

also! the difference in using the cufflinks to inflict pain! tim uses it to distract himself, but she uses it to anchor him to the present and pay attention to what she's telling him.

context: [october 16, 1991] hawk is on the phone with his old employee, mary, where she's telling him details of tim's life and death.

..........................

that's all i have to say about that! 😊

[xxnomadsxx]

ooooh, just thought of something. Troll ambassadors take a trip to grey troll village for a week or so for observation. How would this go? Cuz like, the tribes got an overall idea of different trolls living in harmony there BUT they really want their representatives to learn about how the grey troll village functions first hand.

Ooh! Would Synth and Branch still become besties?

I want Synth and Branch to be besties because their friendship was adorable 🥰 (they would have a polar opposite dynamic in this AU)

At first everyone is filled with a lot of concern and hesitation (plus some fear) to go but eventually they give in because friendship. Overall they have a lot of different opinions about the village.

Low note is pretty cool with the Village he enjoys talking to the other funk trolls, and likes seeing all the technologic advancements in the village they made with what little supplies they had (most of the grey trolls think he’s like the coolest guy ever) he is somewhat freaked out by the feral (trolls?) but does give some of them “cool nicknames”. He tries to bring over some modern funk troll tech to help out the village (to which they greatly appreciate the supplies) Overall he mostly tries to help out the village with small problems they have by using tech, he also observes how the trolls react with one another. The only one he doesn’t get is the leader he’s…strange? to say the least. Branch avoids him and the other ambassadors at the beginning, and when Branch does see them he runs in fear and hides. low note almost gave him the nickname “Skippy two shoes” until he watched Branch save a deaf rocker (have a callback from another post) from almost getting crushed. Branch was later given the name of Ace (I’m sorry I just hate the nickname “skippy two shoes” and wanted to give Branch justice by giving him the nickname he wanted)

Val just goes with the flow and hangs out with the grey rockers who are a surprisingly lazier than the normal rockers (until they get given a job to which they become the hardest workers) Overall she’s really chill with the trolls but concerned for them (she’ll never say that tho) She respects Branch but will deny it (she’s also worried for him, something she’ll never admit to either ) She enjoys how reckless and loud the feral trolls(?) are. And hates how quiet the village can get. She did join a couple hunts and had a blast (she broke a guitar over a predators head) Overall she enjoys how “relaxing” and laid back the village is (she considers the village this due to the lack of parties and normal troll behaviors and thinks everyone just relaxs alot) She also basically became an honorary feral troll.

Dante finds the grey trolls barbaric but tries to respect them. He finds the place shabby and messy. He enjoys being around the grey classical trolls as they are the only ones who have any sense of class. He struggles with the other grey trolls as they are really different than the trolls genres he’s been around. He hates being around the ferals the most they are absolutely a mess in his opinion ( I mean he ain’t wrong) He finds the grey troll activities repulsive (he went on one hunt and is disgusted by what he witnessed) but he understands why they are like this and does spend time with the citizens (and bites his tongue at their imperfections) He also enjoys being around them because they are the perfect muse for some of his pieces. He’s weirded out by their leader tho and has deemed Branch the 2nd most feral thing he’s ever met (take a wild guess who the first is Hint check some previous posts)

Synth goes with the vibe of the grey trolls as best as he can. He tries to rave with them at times but he doesn’t understand why they freak out every time he has his 4am raves? After being told to stop by Branch he decided to get to know the him more (by doing many different techno activities with him) and one of them actually gets him stuck in a quick glitter pit due to lack of 4am rave and not paying attention (it’s basically the same thing that happened in that one scene) Branch comes in and rescues him, to which Synth gave him the nickname Dubstep and the two became friends (Synth will never admit he grew a crush on the grey troll, and before you argue with me just look at the scene there was so much romantic tension!!!!!!!) They basically become besties and pen pals. Synth later is allowed to rave again if he keeps the noise down (Branch actually joined him once)

Holly darling immediately gifted everyone in the village personal gifts after being their only a day (everyone liked the gifts as they were actually useful items and not party supplies like all the other gifts they’ve been given) Holly helps out wherever she can in the village and chats up a storm with whom ever she sees. She helped with all the hunts, and was quite liked for actually helping out around the village. She apparently has a way with the feral trolls as she is one of the few trolls able to wrangle them. She calls Branch cute still and does try to befriend him with gifts but can never find the perfect gift for him (she basically keeps scaring Branch off with her friendliness)

Overall everyone learns a ton and now sometimes visit the village when they have enough time off..but they have a hard time fighting off the pits of despair they feel every time they’re there.

[pixies-and-poets]

Music of the Night - Chapter Six

This part is pretty long, and also a bit time-skippy, but I had to do both or else I could easily get caught up writing this fanfic for the rest of my life. But now I can safely say that the next chapter will be the last. Thanks to everyone who's come on this terrible journey with me!

Slight emetophobia warning, and body horror as usual.

Chapter One - In Sleep He Sang to Me

Chapter Two - Do I Dream Again?

Chapter Three - Our Strange Duet

Chapter Four - To Glance Behind

Chapter Five - Those Who Have Seen Your Face

Chapter Six - Where Night is Blind

Woodrow had made it about halfway back to Palletteville, his mumbled cascade of words seeming to hang in the air and follow him like his own cloud, when another voice cut them short.

“Warden!!” came the urgent hiss. He stopped in his tracks and turned around to find Dryad, her eyes wide and panicked.

The poet blinked for a moment, shaking his head, trying to come out of his poetic reverie and back to reality. “Yes?” he said finally.

“What in the name of all stars is going on?” She spoke rapidly, getting close to his face and inspecting him. “Are you alright? Is the Phantom alright? I heard that awful screaming from clear across the forest! I was just heading to the cabin as fast as I could, but saw you here on my way…”

“Ah,” said the warden, scratching at the back of one paw with the other, nervously. “Yes, Phantom is alright, for now. But…” and so, he went ahead and told her about his efforts with the mask.

Dryad listened to his story in concern, her ears drooping slightly. When he had finished, she nodded. “I see. For a moment I thought you- well, I thought maybe he was reacting to Sweetlopek’s fashion sense…” but her attempt at a joke fell flat, as Woodrow seemed too crushed for levity, and merely twitched the corner of his mouth into a failed half-smile.

“Well, anyway,” said Dryad, waving her paw. “Thank you for telling me. But listen- you mustn’t try that again. We can’t have him screeching to shake all the leaves in the woods. You might attract the minions of Cursa… including… you know.”

Woodrow’s eyes widened. “Oh- Dryad, do you think-”

“I think it’s fine for now,” said the forest spirit. “As for our main concern, he’s been keeping his territory elsewhere the past few days, in deeper and darker parts of the forest. I’ve been using my magic as best I can to lure and keep him there. Still, I will guard this area for a while.”

“Thank you,” said the warden. “I’m sorry for the trouble.” Then he suddenly clasped his hands together. “But oh, Dryad- what’s to be done? About Tom? Do you have any ideas?”

Dryad blinked, recalling that just yesterday Woodrow had claimed to not have the closeness with his patient for such names as Tom. But she only remarked upon it internally.

“Hmm,” she said, frowning. “All I can say is, I don’t think that mask is really the source of his troubles. If you almost had it off, and the darkmess was still being produced, then… the problem is probably internal, I’m afraid. It would be good to remove it, of course, but perhaps we had better concentrate on curing his poisoning first. If we get rid of the darkmess, that thing will likely fall off on its own.”

Woodrow nodded sadly. “I’m not in any hurry to try again,” he said. “But… alas! We still seem so far from finding a cure, for those overtaken by the dreadful substance.”

Dryad shrugged. “It’s hard for me to look into things, when I’m busy protecting the animals and the trees, but I’m doing my best. As are the people of your village. Have you heard from any of the other wardens about any breakthroughs lately?”

The poet shook his head. “Our best bet was Terra Flora, and- they’ve still been silent for about a week. Ever since Bea disappeared… last I heard, Alkementor was too distressed to work, and we’ve lost contact since then.”

“Poor Bea,” said Dryad, her ears drooping once more. Meanwhile, a thought crossed Woodrow’s mind- he wondered if Phantom had heard of her recent disappearance. After all, the two of them… well, he wondered if it would be appropriate to even bring it up. Would it distress him? Would he feel guilty that he had never made amends with her? He had best not broach the subject, when he was already in such a delicate state…

“What about Barrendale Mesa?” asked the nature spirit. “They’re still holding strong out there, right?”

“Indeed, I think so,” said the warden. “But Momma and her crew have been working on ways to purify darkmess from the environment. Medical cures aren’t really their expertise.”

“Well, when there is a breakthrough… whether it’s on this planet, or if we get some kind of shipment from elsewhere…” she looked the warden firmly in the eyes, “remember that the first doses will be given to those who need it most. And those from Palette Prime take priority. They are your people, and this planet is your ward. Don’t you lose sight of that.”

Woodrow closed his eyes for a moment, and nodded.

“And especially… you know who we must concentrate on first. Not only for his own sake, but for the sake of the entire planet he’s been menacing.”

“Of course,” said the warden quietly, opening his eyes again.

And, after a few more moments of discussion and brief goodbyes, the two were parted.

—

Three days and three nights came to pass. In that time, Dryad kept busy - guiding and protecting and caring for animals, laying spells, attempting to protect and restore the trees and other plants where she could, and much more. She heard no more screams ring out across the forest, and in fact was so caught up in her business that she never ventured back by the little cabin. She had no contact with Woodrow, and barely with any other rabbid at all, and assumed things must be going well enough.

As for the people of Paletteville, it took them a little while to notice, but it soon spread throughout the population that something was wrong with the warden. He was even more reclusive than normal, and looked even sadder and more tired on the rare occasions he was seen. It had been the habit of some townsfolk to visit his home and ask for advice; he was respected enough in that regard to have been elected to his position, after all. But in these days, they found he was hardly ever at home, or not answering the door if he was. In fact, as time passed, he seemed to never be there at all. Knocks at his door went unanswered, and no one knew where he had gone.

What’s more, they began to notice the cloud over his house growing thinner and smaller - until one day it was gone completely.

That cloud, of course, was intimately connected with him. With his soul, his curse, his destiny. This was more than a bad omen, to the people of Palette Prime. It was proof.

“He’s gone,” the villagers murmured amongst themselves. “Somethin’ got ‘im.”

“Ya think he was tryin’ to tame the Beast?”

“Maybe. Prob'ly wrote him a poem to try and talk some sense into him.”

“That poor pathetic soul, bless ‘im. He wouldn’t give up on his best friend if he was actively tearin’ the warden apart.”

And so the assumption spread that the warden had met an unfortunate fate, which was- they all admitted- bound to happen eventually. At any rate, it was decided that search parties would soon be sent out to find his body, and give him a proper burial if they could.

“Near the moon. That would be appropriate,” one villager had said, and everyone agreed.

He was the Plague of Palette Prime, the great harbinger of disaster, and on top of that a terrible poet, or so his planet-mates thought.

But he was also their warden, and a good man. And he deserved the respect in death that the Fates had not given him in life.

—

That man was very much alive. And he was good. And any good person who has made a promise in earnest passion, and then failed to keep that promise despite their absolute best efforts, would understand the pain that encroached upon his soul from all sides.

After trying to pull of the mask, Woodrow spent the day checking up on various things in town, using the computer in the post office to send out more fruitless messages to the other planets, and - in his spare moments - scrawling mad snippets of poetry in the journal that he had retrieved from the cabin.

But in the afternoon of that day, he decided it best to check back on Phantom, and the moment he entered the door, found that the ghost’s own assurances of being fine, of being safe, had been proven false.

He lay on the bed, his eye closed, breathing hard. A large amount of darkmess had leaked out from his porous ectoplasm, forming a puddle on the bed, a smaller version of the state in which Woodrow had first found him. The puddle dripped over the edges and corners of the bed, and the ghost seemed to be fused to it now. One of the poetry books lay splayed open on its bent pages on the ground, where he had clearly dropped it- his paw drooping over the bed as his chest shook in a pained sleep.

“Tom!” cried the poet, then clapped his paws over his mouth, remembering Dryad’s warning about making too much noise. He rushed over and stroked the ghost’s hair, then kneeled down, picked up the limp paw that was hanging off the bed, and rubbed it. “Tom- my dear- wake up…”

Indeed, the ghost’s eye opened, then closed again, then opened once more and slowly rolled over to look at his companion. He smiled, warmly but clearly in pain. “Ah… there you are," he said, between heavy gasps. "I’m sorry… you have to see me like this again. Oh! Don’t cry, mi tesoro…”

Woodrow and his eyes, of course, ignored this command. “Tom, I’m the one who should apologize. I should have stayed…”

“Nonsense!” said the Phantom, still weak, but gradually gaining some energy at the other’s presence. “What could you have done? I feared my ailment would reassert itself… that this is a problem we could only stave off temporarily… I just… hoped it might take a little longer.”

“Oh, what am I to do-” said the warden in panic, standing up once more, still holding his darling’s hand with one of his own, and raising the other to his head. “I can’t… all of the soap on the planet can’t clean this…”

Phantom kept smiling, and let his eye close. “Mon chéri, you mustn’t work yourself up like this. If this is how it is to be, then… so be it. Let me lie in it. It will happen, no matter what you do. I just have to keep fighting it from the inside, and hopefully I will win, and then I can be free…”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” cried the other, leaning over and stroking his hair again, and his ears. “Come now. I can’t give up so easily, I can’t… I…” he trailed off, as a thought began to creep up from the back of his mind. He was considering how to best dispel a puddle of darkmess, and it suddenly occurred to him that his own home was blessedly free of it, and perhaps he could move Phantom there- but no, there was a reason for that, and wouldn’t it be easier if…

“Jinx!” he said in excitement, looking at his cloud. “Your rain… can it…” 

The cloud gave a little bob, and took position above Phantom. It began to rain over Phantom’s stomach, over the bed. And indeed- it didn’t dissolve the black sludge, but it did push it away; washing it off, so it slid down like oil being repelled by water, over the sides of the bed and onto the floor. Jinx then moved towards the glob, pushing it towards the door - which Woodrow had left open in his shock - and out onto the ground outside.

Phantom sat his upper body up, and watched the process with speechless amazement. “Well,” he said as Jinx herded the darkmess out of the door. “I never would have guessed!"

Woodrow smiled, blushing, but genuinely very happy and relieved. “Wonderful, isn't it? I know water and rain don't normally wash away darkmess by themselves, but... there is something special about my own little storm, here. My theory is that two manifestations of misfortune repel each other, like the similar poles of a magnet."

"Impressive indeed," said the singer with a nod. "But- next time ask me permission before raining on me. It was cold! I should have liked to brace myself. Although, I suppose it WAS energizing...”

Woodrow blushed even deeper, but still smiled. "Apologies. And my apologies too, that you must now lay on a damp bed, but surely it’s better than the alternative.”

“Certamente!” said the ghost. “I hardly mind it at all.”

“Now,” said Woodrow, tapping his foot in deep thought- looking around at the bed and the trail of water on the cabin’s floor, and at Jinx, who was quite depleted again. “Jinx - would you be able to keep watch over Tom, when I’m not here?”

The little cloud, barely visible, was coming back over to Woodrow, but stopped short. Then, after a moment, it shook itself back and forth, and swirled around the poet’s head.

“Yes, I know you want to keep watch over me. But… he needs you more than I do, right now.”

The little cloud roiled turbulently, and probably would have thundered in agitation, but was too rained out to have the ability. Instead she just positioned herself around Woodrow’s ears, where she felt like a light mist.

“Alright, alright, let’s compromise. Can you… convince some of the rest of you to come over? From my home? A little piece of the big cloud can split itself off and come here, how is that?”

The cloud sprang in front of Woodrow’s face again, then bobbed up and down enthusiastically. It then zoomed off in the direction of the warden’s house. Woodrow smiled, and sank down into the chair next to Phantom’s bedside.

“Oh, Tristan,” said the ghost. “You are as clever and creative as you are kind. Truly I am lucky that you of all people found me, my portafortuna.”

And so it was that Jinx soon came back, with a chunk of larger cloud behind her, which took up residence above the cabin, ready to rain down through the holes in the roof when Phantom next went through another burst of darkmess production. And the two rabbids talked for hours, of art and poetry, and imagined themselves in all the romantic spots of a healthy Palette Prime, and spun hypothetical tales of what they would do in better days. All seemed well in the world that evening, when Woodrow lay devoted kisses on his companion’s palm and wrist and the back of his hand, and on his forehead and the tips of his ears, before bidding him farewell.

….But the next morning when he returned, he peered into the cabin to see things much as before, as Phantom had produced more darkness during the night than the poor cloud could produce water to keep up with. And so, filled with determined and anxious adrenaline, and stepping around the goo that now puddled all over the floor to be with his patient, Woodrow ordered Jinx to come back with even more of the cloud.

And at the same time, he decided then and there that he must stay with Phantom full-time, only leaving when absolutely necessary, and to sleep elsewhere in safety.

Thus it went for the next couple of days. And this is where, despite Woodrow’s greatest efforts, he began to falter in the promise he had so passionately made.

The reader need not hear every moment of the chronicle, and indeed Phantom would probably be embarrassed that people were getting even part of it. Suffice to say, that in the coming days, the endless wellspring of darkness inside him started to work harder than ever. He would suddenly ooze out through his porous underside; sometimes he would suddenly, in the midst of softly talking with his dear companion, choke and cough and vomit out a burst of it down his face and chest; and sometimes it seeped out anew, all over his face, from under the edges of his mask.

Ever more of the cloud came, until its entire volume was there: part of it settling above the roof and part of it inside the cabin, forming a stormy ceiling, raining as much as it could, washing and pushing the darkmess out and away. But the cloud needed to rest at times, to gather more moisture from the environment… and the sludge kept coming back. Half the time Woodrow sat there, soaked and shivering, the skin of his paws and ears slightly wrinkled and blue, shadows underneath his wild eyes, as the rain fell on both of them, and he did not seem to care at all for his own health. He had propped his own umbrella up, resting on the bed and against the wall, so that it covered and protected Phantom’s head and chest, keeping that part of him dry. Whenever it was needed, Woodrow reached over with a rag and soap and tenderly wiped off any new ooze that was leaking from under the accursed mask.

The warden lost track of all things besides Phantom. He no longer knew or cared what time of day it was, or how many days had passed. When the fatigue became unbearable, he dragged himself back home, set his alarm for a few hours of sleep, and then came back. All other duties and responsibilities to his planet ceased to cross his mind. He brought back his full store of darkmess-battling soap… every citizen had been given a certain amount, and as warden, he had been given extra, to ration out in case of emergencies. This was an emergency.

Eventually, Woodrow tired of going all the way back to his house on the outskirts of Paletteville to rest; and what’s more, it was a waste of time. Time he should be spending at Phantom’s side. He realized there was a much closer spot, halfway… and thus he found himself, dizzy and half-awake, at Sweetlopek’s door once again. He hadn’t even locked it after his last visit to retrieve the clothes, but nothing seemed to have been disturbed since Dryad left. Everyone on the planet had enough respect - or perhaps fear - to leave it alone.

And yet there was Woodrow, crashing himself onto the familiar couch where he had fallen asleep many a time after an evening spent with his friend, when he was too tired to make it home after a night of wine and games and talking. Now the place was silent, and their laughter rang out no more. Before Woodrow fell asleep in his exhaustion, his eyes fell on a framed picture on the table near the couch. It was the woodsman and the Dryad together on their planet’s famous bridge, hugging each other and smiling in lovestruck glee. He had never noticed this picture before, and indeed, it must have been new… there was only a small window of time in which it could have been taken.

He looked away from it in grief and closed his eyes. Would any couple on this planet ever experience that happiness again? Would any in the entire galaxy?

And he was soon asleep.

—

It was the fourth day since Phantom’s arrival, and dusk was gathering. Dryad was making her way across the forest, floating as fast as she could. As exhausted as she was from her recent efforts, this could not wait. Rumors had reached her, from rabbids she had seen in the woods: the warden was dead. His cloud was gone. But she knew better, for she had heard from the animals that the cloud had merely taken up new residence above a certain tiny shack in the woods. At any rate, she could no longer trust that things were alright with Woodrow and Phantom. If Woodrow had been isolating himself so much that people thought he had perished… well, she could only hope that indeed he had not fallen into a permanent sleep, entwined in the darkmess that seeped from the man he was trying to save.

Before long she heard the sound of rain in the distance, and indeed came upon a cabin with a dark halo of raincloud, dripping down onto its roof and directly into its structure. And, to her horror, from under the door and all around the edges of the cabin, was a thick moat of darkmess. She floated above it towards a window and peered inside, with no small amount of dread.

The scene that met her eyes was so upsetting that she gasped softly, and needed a moment to comprehend what she was looking at.

The warden sat on his chair - both it and him soaking wet - his knees pulled up to his chest, and he was shivering; heedless of his own self-destruction, as the rain poured down onto him and the Phantom alike (albeit the latter at least partially protected by an umbrella). After a moment of observation, Dryad understood what the plan here was… the rain was washing the darkmess away from Phantom, although even now, more oozed out from his stomach as if it were an overfilled, dripping sponge, and the water from above washed it to the floor and then towards the doorway or the walls. Indeed, there was not much of the stuff around the two rabbids inside, but still, they both looked barely alive. The poet was soaking wet, possibly suffering from hypothermia, and the Phantom’s eyes were closed, his skin pale.

Dryad was about to enter the room on a rescue mission, when suddenly the ghost stirred.

“Tristan,” he said, in a low, raspy whisper. “Oh- I can… barely speak. I think… I will lose my voice again soon. It- hurts….”

The warden moved, showing his first real sign of life since Dryad had been observing him. He leaned forward, putting his wet paw on the side of the Phantom’s face. “Ssshh,” he said. “Don’t talk then.”

The ghost shook his head. “I don’t… want to lose it again. Tristan… I want… I want you to read me your poems. Can you do that for me?”

“Darling, you know I can’t,” the other said, with a sad smile. “We can’t risk it. Any bit of bad luck could… could… well… let’s keep your luck as good as possible, right now.”

This was clearly a private moment, and thus Dryad floated off to the side of the window, so as not to gaze upon them - and so they would not see her, as well.

“It’s a lost cause,” wheezed the Phantom. “Look at me, mon cœur. I am dying. And I want to hear your poetry from your own lips before I do.”

“No, Tom, no…” Dryad couldn’t see his face, but could hear the tears in his voice. “You can’t give up like that… you have to hold on, until we find a cure…”

“You have to give up on saving me,” said the other. “Look… you are destroying yourself, portafortuna… give me your words, your precious words, my love, and let me rest…”

“But I promised, Tom, I promised I would save you… don’t talk like that, darling, I-”

“I think soon I shall not talk at all,” he said. “In fact, I-” he coughed, and gagged. “I, Tristan, I- GHH- love-”

At the sounds of Phantom’s distress, Dryad had peeked back in again, just in case. As his voice cut off, his jaw snapped shut, and he motioned to his throat, to his mouth. He could open it no more.

Woodrow leaned his weary head onto the ghost’s chest and lay there, his soaking arms draped over the other in defeat, his body shaking. “No, Tom, your voice…” he was sobbing. “Don’t… don’t leave me without it… don’t leave me… my sunshine… don’t leave me…”

Dryad couldn’t take this scene anymore. She came in, right through the window, which lacked any glass. To Phantom’s astonishment, she went over to the warden and pulled him up. He barely reacted, flopping around like a sopping ragdoll.

“Woodrow!!” she cried, shaking him. “Woodrow! Listen- he’s right, you know. You’re destroying yourself, and you won’t do any good to ANYONE that way.”

Phantom, for all his weakness and surprise, nodded and pointed to her in agreement.

“I don’t care anymore,” he said. “Let me be destroyed, then. What does it matter? I can’t save anyone…”

“Woodrow, go rest,” the nature spirit commanded, the rain now falling on her own leafy head. “Go dry yourself off, and warm yourself up, and get a GOOD night’s sleep. I’ll watch over Phantom.”

The warden stood up weakly, his eyes barely focusing on anything. “But what if he gets worse,” he said, barely audible. “What if I’m not here when he… if he…”

“If he gets worse, I’ll come get you,” said the Dryad.

Woodrow swallowed, then nodded, with no feeling. “I’ll be at Sweetlopek’s house.”

Dryad gave him a look of indignance, but then took a deep breath, and decided now was not the time to argue about it. “You’re right,” she said. “That’s closer. Alright. You go there.”

“Mmm,” said the warden, swaying on his feet, and Dryad was mildly concerned he wouldn’t make it.

“Do you want me to accompany you?” she asked.

“I’ll be fine,” he mumbled. “Stay with Tom. Watch him for me. Please.”

Then he turned back to the bed, met Phantom’s eyes, and gently took some strands of his messy hair into his paw… then let it fall.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said tenderly, then turned and left, followed by one small fragment of Jinx, as ever.

He dragged his feet through the leafy bed of the forest, winding as if drunk around puddles of darkmess and fallen trees.

But he did make it to Sweetlopek’s home. He had locked it again last time, and so he reached into one of the inner pockets of his wet coat, and took out a keyring. With fumbling and shaking hands, he managed to eventually get the right key into the lock. But just as he was turning it, he sensed the presence of… something. Something big. As he froze, his eyes blankly staring at the door, he heard a loud THUD and the crunch of countless leaves behind him.

He turned. There in the twilight was a massive figure, a shadow blocking out the trees and the sky behind it. It was a rabbid… mostly… wearing the shredded remains of a flannel shirt. He was huge, and bestial, with claws, and fangs, and wild and shaggy facial hair in which sticks and leaves and gobs of darkmess were jumbled. His entire lower body was covered in darkmess as well, with a line of it running across his chest and back, forming a strap on which a massive axe was mounted behind him. Not to mention the darkmess on top of his head, onto which was welded a perpetually distressed-looking beaver.

The creature’s eyes glowed yellow as he stood there, hunched over, almost on all fours, and he sniffed at the warden and snarled. But Woodrow was too done with everything to be truly shocked, or afraid.

Most of the other rabbids had taken to calling him the Beast. Woodrow was one of the few who still believed it most respectful to use his name. That maybe, buried deep inside, there was someone who would still recognize it.

The warden blinked slowly. “Good evening, Sweetlopek.”

[skippyv20]

Hi Skippy quite the kerfuffle around this book. so it’s pretty obvious with the dutch version difference they wanted the so called “racist royal”named without any direct proof.

my current theory is she concocted this because we were seeing a lot of “reports” harry was desperate to get back with his family. once again she has helped to shut that door. maybe also prevent him from leaving her since there appears to be little money left and she doesn’t have any prospects on her own. i don’t think he would have agreed to this. he tried to back track the claims before.

problem is all of them connected with the book look bad. doesn’t help her “brand” unless vindictive bit** is a brand 😉

Hmmmm.. having given this some thought….I think it was intentional, and it is for blackmailing purposes once again. Everytime the “children” are mentioned…people talk….no doubt her and that one…are looking for a big payout and are pushing the “children” button. What do they care when it comes out no children? They can come up with any excuse…BUT the BRF are the ones that will have to answer to the public, and there is no explaining how they publicly acknowledged them, and how they ended up in LoS….the only thing that will free the BRF…is to step out now….and speak their truths…..❤️

[faolanrune]

Ok so secret life ramble time. Watched the videos today since I couldn’t yesterday and saw that Scar got given the title of The Earth. I have thoughts, many of them are feeling drabble type thoughts but they are thoughts nonetheless.

Spoilers if you haven’t seen the series below the cut

Ok so anyone who knows this series semi well knows of Grian the Sun, Scott the Moon, Pearl the Stars, and Martin is Mars. Martin doesn’t rly play into this ramble so won’t rly focus on him a lot.

Grian and him were partners for third life. Grian was the first champion, his desert victory crowning him The Sun. They went to the bitter end, near polar opposites in their stories and paths throughout Third Life until they joined in a bloody fight. Grian came out on top, The Shining Sun, Scar not far behind, but still falling short of the long shadow of Grian’s victory.

Time skippy skip to Secret Life (I don’t doubt smth important relating to this happened in Last Life but I don’t remember a whole lot of it. Talking bout Pearl last too)

Scott’s role in Scar’s tale played out massively in Secret life. He had allied with Scar for a brief time, and during the final battle was constantly asking Scar “why he betrayed them” named The Moon after his victory is Last Life. The Earth and The Moon, in a lot of mythology and folklore they usually represent separated lovers. Often made to be apart by war, death, betrayal, other people, the list goes on. But they’re often seen as a joined pair, yet separated by distance. Scott mourns his betrayal, yet understands the boundaries that must keep them apart. And so he falls, back down into the darkness of The Waning Moon.

Pearl’s whole arc was being on her own(wonder where we see that again cough cough “how did the guy with no friends win?”) jokes aside she ends up winning due to Scott, her other half even though it was not a wanted alliance, earning her the title of The Stars. Pearl and Scars alliance was one that didn’t rly solidify till the final episode. And yet Pearl was willing to let Scar kill her, to lend the light of the stars to the Earth, even on the chance that it might have been all for nought if he faced Gem without Pearl. In the end they face Gem together, taking her down before Scar reaches to take the promised light and succeeds. Pearl dies, taking her place as The Fallen Star.

And among it all, the disbelief and the bloodlust and adrenaline from it all. His Sun is there, shinning on him as an equal this time, as he relays the news of his Victory. But Scar did not want it, a reluctant champion, never striving for the heavens or for godhood like those before him. Simply content to remain as he is, to stay one with This Dying Earth.

(Sorry for the length but this series makes me feel things fr)

[joels-shitty-puns]

The Key To Your Heart - Track 5

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Musician!Reader

Series Summary: After writing your feelings for Pedro into a song, it gains a lot more popularity than expected. Ultimately it brings both criticism and support, with new possibilities around the corner.

*! New warnings will be listed first !*

Series Warnings: 18+ only (MDNI). Mentions of food, weight loss, weight gain, dieting, weighing, potential eating disorder, food guilt. Potential for puns/dad jokes (name of my blog, and the fic) should give that away. This is my first fic which should be its own warning, lol. Also some cursing. Mentions of masturbation (f) maybe more smut later idk. Sadness, reader is pretty depressed. Poor body image. Rude people. Bullying-ish and just lack of support? Anxiety. Age gap! Reader is in her mid 20's, Pedro is current age (48).

Other stuff: Reader is plus sized. AFAB. Inexperienced. Also has a dog, but you can pretend it is another creature probably. Further, in case it isn't clear, italics almost always are the reader's inner thoughts!

Word Count: 2.5k

Series List: Here!

Miss last chapter? Here!

Hi guys!!!! Thank you for reading and being so supportive of my first fic so far!!! I love you all ❤️ please let me know your thoughts on this chapter. We're not done yet!

___________

~ We alternate between Pedro + reader's thoughts in this one ~

"Hello?"

"Hello? Pedro? It's me.."

You heard him give a breathless laugh before answering with a gentle "Hi."

______

You laughed back, sounding equally shy but giddy. "Hi," you answer softly. "I hope I'm not being weird calling immediately after you gave me your number?"

"No, no! Not at all. I'm happy to hear from you" Pedro quickly quashed your worry.

"Okay" you whispered.

"So tell me more about this book you love," Pedro asked, trying to start up a conversation, any conversation, just to hear your voice.

The two of you discussed your favorite books, movies, shows, and continued on through other favorite things. Food, ice cream, music, your favorite flowers. You talked about dogs and told him about Skipper. You even shared his name and breed.

"Oh, Skipper! I was wondering about his name when you mentioned him in your interview, but you said you weren't ready to share. Thank you for trusting me. How'd he get his name?"

You smiled before jumping into a story about yours and Skipper's origin. "Well, a couple years ago… I was walking by the ocean down this pier with fishing boats, sailboats, and yachts docked on it. I heard a whimper coming from a corner of the dock and went over to investigate. There he was, small and scared. Just a puppy. He didn't have a collar and was covered in fleas. I tried to call him with no luck, but I also had just stopped at the grocery store and thought maybe I could lure him over with some jerky. But he wasn't interested. Too nervous."

"Hmm," Pedro listened.

You continued. "One of the fishermen walked down the pier with a bag from the same grocery store I had just left. He pulled out a can of wet food and tried to lure Skip over. Still no luck. I dug around my backpack to find something else, but the only food I had was a peanut butter sandwich I packed for my commute home. I took a shot and offered it to him, and weirdly.. that he accepted. The guy likes peanut butter," you said with a laugh.

"From then on, we were attached like glue. I couldn't find an owner for him and he didn't have a chip. We took care of the fleas and I decided to name him Skipper. Partially because of the boats, partially because I can call him Skippy for short, like the peanut butter."

Pedro gave a genuine laugh before complimenting the cute, yet sweet, name. "Does he still like peanut butter?"

"Oh he loves peanut butter. I can't even open a jar without him coming over from wherever he is in the house."

He hears you speak faintly to the side, away from the speaker. "Isn't that right my little peanut?"

"Boof," Skipper agrees.

Pedro laughed, grinning ear to ear. You couldn't see the joy on his face but you could feel it. "He sounds adorable. I love dogs."

"Me too," you smiled. The two of you discussed dogs you've raised over the years before you texted him a picture of Skip.

"Oh my GOD," Pedro exclaimed. "Look at those ears! He's adorable."

As if you couldn't like Pedro more, he's gushing over your dog the same way you do. 

You don't know if it's possible, but you hope someday you can have the two meet each other. 

Pedro didn't want to scare you and mention it, but he also hoped to meet Skipper someday. But more than that, he wanted to meet you.

_____

The conversation flowed so naturally, it felt as though the two of you had known each other a lifetime. It seemed the blink of an eye, but you had been on the phone for three and a half hours. 

"Y'know… I was kind of nervous to call you," you said shyly.

Pedro sighed "I was nervous to give you my number. Especially when you didn't reply right away. I worried I overstepped."

"No! I'm so glad you did. Because even though I was nervous, talking to you just feels…"

"Easy." You both answered, resulting in matching grins and blushes, neither of which are seen.

"It feels like we've been friends for years," Pedro continued.

"I agree" you say softly.

The conversation begins to close, but the two of you plan to talk on the phone again soon.

With that, you both hang up, and each begin to count down the time before the next call. In your respective houses, you flop on your bed, kicking your feet and blushing, while Pedro ran his hands down his face with a grin.

______

The next day, the two of you talk again. He called you this time.

Unfortunately, when he called, you were well into your workday. He didn't know you still worked a normal person's job.

"Hey P! I'm sorry I can't talk, I'm at work, can I call you in a few hours??"

"Oh shit, sorry! Yes." Pedro hung up frantically before he began to think. Did she just call me P? A nickname? He smiled to himself. He had been called many names, nicknames, and mispronunciations throughout his life. Some good nicknames, some… not so good. Other people have even called him P before. But never before had he heard a nickname from your lips.

_____ 

When you called him back after work, he decided to be bold. "Did you call me P?"

"Huh?" 

"Earlier when I called, did you say 'Hey P!' when you answered the phone?"

Your blood turned cold. Oh no. It slipped out. He hates that I used a nickname.

"I did. I figured it would be better for your privacy if I didn't say your name out loud."

"Oh. I see. Well, Pedro is a pretty common name."

Yeah but when your coworkers all know you're in love with Pedro Pascal, I don't think they'd be thinking of other Pedros.

"That's true. But some of my coworkers know I'm a big fan of yours so they might think I'm just delusional, haha" you answered… mostly honestly. Although you aren't sure "big fan" is the right word. It's just the safest.

Pedro thought about this and wondered: her coworkers know that she's a big fan? How big of a fan? Could I be the - nope, don't even go there.

"Big fan, huh? Well, thank you. I appreciate it. And I don't mind the nickname. I liked it. People call me a lot of names and I don't really mind." He had started to tease about the fan thing but decided to change gears.

"Oh good! I was worried I overstepped," you replied cautiously.

"You could never." And he meant it. With as much daydreaming as he's been doing lately, he's not sure there's much of anything you could do to overstep. He, however, worries he might. She's already in love with someone. Stop.

He cleared his throat and continued "so I didn't know you worked, outside of your music."

"Oh yeah, I mean the music is fairly new. Luckily my coworkers haven't figured it out yet, surprisingly." You continued to describe your job, Pedro listening intently (as if work was actually entertaining).

_____

After the work discussion, there was a quiet pause. "Hello?" You asked, wondering if Pedro had been disconnected.

He suddenly sounded serious. "Can I… uh.. ask you a question?"

"Oh. Um… Okay…" you replied, heart pounding.

"You mentioned your coworkers not finding out.. Do you think you're ever going to show people who you are?"

"Maybe someday…if they don't figure it out first."

"Do you think you'll ever tell your guy you love him?"

Your heart was ready to fly away it was beating so fast. "I'm thinking about it..."

"Can I ask - What's holding you back?" He asked cautiously, gently even.

Where to begin? You thought. But he doesn't need to know all that. He doesn't want to. You'll scare him off once he realizes what a mess you are.

"Eh, it's just my own silly worries! It's okay, I'll get over them I'm sure. I know I can't stay hidden forever," you deflected as best as possible.

"Anxiety is a hard thing to conquer, but your worries aren't silly if they bother you. If you ever need to go to someone, I'm here to talk."

"Thanks, Pedro. But really, don't worry about me. I'm okay."

"That's not fair to you. How often have you felt the need to say that? That you're okay, in order to not worry someone else?"

Every time I'm worried. Nobody needs to be burdened by my stress.

"Oh.. I um.. I just don't want to burden anyone over something I should handle myself…I don't want my friends to feel like I'm using them as my therapist."

Pedro's heart sank even more. "I hate that anyone could ever make you feel that way. But if you want to talk, I'm here to listen. You won't burden me. I promise."

You couldn't help the sniffle that escaped you. "I don't want to push you away." Your voice dropped down to practically a whisper "I don't want you to leave."

Pedro's heart broke. "Baby… the only way you'll push me away is if you tell me to leave. Let down your walls. Talk to me."

Did he just call me baby? You immediately snapped up, quieting your tears instantly.

The realization hit Pedro just the same. Shit, did I just slip and call her baby?! Oh what have I done? Tell me she didn't notice. Tell me she didn't hear me. She's worried about pushing me away, and I go and say something like that? 

Unsure of how to address the nickname, you decided to ignore it. He probably is just trying to be nice. Friends say things like that. Buddy, pal, babe, baby, love, honey. At least girl friendships do… ? It's probably nothing.

"Are you sure? I mean, you don't even know me that well," you hesitated.

"But I want to. It'll be okay. Let me in," Pedro said softly, cautious, like you'd flee.

And so you opened up. You told him about your anxieties. How it feels safer to just close yourself off from people. About not sharing your excitement and passion because people feel it's "too much." Not showing your feelings because your old crush said it was weird and pushed you away. Feeling like other people fit in so much easier than you ever can. Or how you wonder if your friends sometimes just are nice to you only because you're nice to them. How you're really nobody's favorite. 

With every word, Pedro's heart was breaking. All he wanted was to scoop you up in his arms and hold you until you believed all those things weren't true. Until you felt loved the way you deserved.

"But I guess one of the main reasons I haven't shown myself to the world is because of the things people have said about me without knowing me. About my music. About me being naive. Childish. Creepy even.." you continued.

"Those people are assholes. The second you get an ounce of fame and attention they'll do anything they can to knock you down. You're amazing. You're brave and bold and all you did was share your feelings and your voice. Those people just want to make themselves feel better about their own unhappy lives." Pedro spoke from his own experiences. Rumors and articles often spread like wildfire and it can be overwhelming. He isn't immune to that.

"Thank you. And I know that, but I think part of me believes they might be right… I really am just in my silly daydreams."

"They aren't right. You said it yourself, they don't know you. You know you. I'm starting to know you. I can already tell you aren't any of the nasty things people say, and those people couldn't even be half as good a person as you are." Pedro reassured.

"Thank you… but… well… can I ask you something?" You asked shyly.

"Of course."

"On the topic of what people have said… Another big reason I haven't told the guy I like is because I worry he wouldn't like me. Like he'd think the way those people do. You said earlier in your interview when you were asked - that if someone wrote a song or something like that about you, you'd still consider them. You'd give them a chance, even though they were clearly some obsessive fan. Were you telling the truth? Would you really give a fan a chance with you? Be honest with me," you pleaded nervously.

Pedro paused for a second, before answering with certainty. "Yes. I would feel at a bit of a disadvantage that they loved me before I got the chance to love them back... But I would give them a chance. As long as they're respectful, why shouldn't you? Who says celebrities should only end up with other celebrities? The world is full of people looking for and deserving of love. Including, especially, you."

Your heart fluttered around his words like a thousand butterflies taking flight at once.

"Thank you Pedro. You deserve that too. And if that's something you want too, I hope you find it."

Me. I hope you find me.

"Thank you. I hope you do too." He meant it. Even if it wasn't him, he wanted you to be happy.

"But lastly… I think a big reason I'm scared to show him who I am is…"

"Yeah?" Pedro could feel himself getting nervous.

"I don't… look like a celebrity. I don't look like those women in magazines. I'm not… skinny. I'm fat, and squishy… and I don't have flawless skin. I'm not… beau-"

"Stop," Pedro said.

"Sorry…" you fretted. You knew you'd push him away.

"No, no, no. Don't be sorry. But don't say to me that you aren't beautiful. Because you are. I don't even know what you look like but you're beautiful on the inside. And as far as the women in magazines? They've gone through hair and makeup and plastic surgery. They don't look perfect when you strip all that away. But you. We all have bad skin days. And you aren't defined by your body size. You may not be your own type. But for all you know, the man you are in love with might LOVE that you aren't skinny. He might love the curves and the natural beauty that you have. Not to mention that big heart of yours. You might just be his type."

You might be my type, he thought. 

You were crying now. Not a sniffle, but a genuine cry. And Pedro felt as though he must have made things much worse. Until you said "thank you Pedro. I'm sorry for putting all this on your shoulders. But thank you for your words. I know that I don't like my own body and I just assume others wouldn't as well. But maybe you're right. Maybe he would love me back."

"I think he will. You just need to give him a chance to see you the way you are. You deserve to be loved as you are. He will love you back."

And if he doesn't, I think I already do. Pedro finally admitted to himself.

__________

That's all folks! For this chapter at least. Thanks again for reading and stay tuned for more!

Next chapter! Here

Taglist: (Want in? Let me know!)@pedrotonin @starcrossed02 @lightupsketchersperson @cartoon-garbage04 @tyferbebe @maryfanson @gwendibley84 @faithfullyyours2000 @brilliantopposite187 @hc-geralt-23 @jenniferpendragon @winchestergypsy90 @red-red-rogue @theendwhereibegin @lottieellz101 @oliversaurus @kyga01 @milly-louise @titabel

[okaratauri]

Re: the WIP ask game

Stranded and Scales!

Oh dear XD okay sry I’ve been a bit busy today it’s mah bday

okay so please please don’t judge me, but Stranded is based on a dream I had a long time ago.

so stranded is set sometime after Valkyrie and before Failure mode, except things have calmed down enough for the governments on earth to form a sort of internship program for college students to shadow the crew on Valkyrie. Don’t ask questions if somethings doesn’t add up, it’s a dream. So in the dream, I was a part of the internship program and was shadowing one of the engineers.

We were on a sort of routine check in with a Kristang relay station a couple light years away from a planet habited by a Kristang training facility for young warriors. Skippy had a mircorwormhole set up to monitor that planet. I had befriended Skippy and quickly became his favorite intern, bc well I mean I sung with him voluntarily. I was walking to his man cave to show him a new painting I had made, when something attacked the ship. We were just floating about in space while Skippy ransacked the relay station. The ship was sliced apart, like they were trying to cut Skippy out of the ship. Skippy, panicking and trying to save who he could on this side of Valkyrie, focused on the microwormhole and dumped a shit ton of his own power into it, managing to expand it into an unstable wormhole that connected to the atmosphere of the planet, a couple people were sheared to bits by the micro wormhole, but the parts of the ship that was cut off nearest to Skippy passed through and was dumped into the sky of the planet. The rest of the ship was being bombarded by whoever attacked and Valkyrie managed a chaotic jump away while the couple of us on the little piece with Skippy plummeted down. Skippy cut that microwormhole off and opened a new one to dump us lower near the ground into a tumble. Effectively stranding us on the planet. It was me, one other person and Skippy, but the other person got shot later on, so it was just me and Skippy on the planet being hunted by fanatic, young, moronic lizards. Don’t judge me. It was a dream. I thought it was cool 😭

Okay Scales dang it’s been a long while. It’s a bit incoherent but the basic gist is the main character is some sort of hybrid of an Angel (a Kellkie) and a human. And each human has a guardian angel and a demon that watches and influences their circumstances, but the main character (Opal’s) Kellkie died when she was young, leaving the demon (a Kellus named Amon) to become her “guardian angel” of sorts. It’s a bit lame but I thought it was cool a couple years ago XD I’m sure it’s been done before so I didn’t really flesh it out too much.

anywho, there u go :3

[sincerely-sofie]

Just wanted to say I thought your gym team was really cool! Showing off all the little bugs while fighting off goons together then slapping the player with a Golisopod as your ace is super cool and also very amusing to me lolol

(Referencing this post)

Thank you!! I loved reading about your team as well! :>

I’m actually tempted to make my gym team + gym leadersona into some original characters. I think that she and her Pokémon could make for some fun comics and illustrations!

The team member’s names are as follows:

Surskit: Skippy

Cutiefly: Snooty

Sewaddle: Sleepy

Shelmet: Smoochy

Joltik: Spidey

Golisopod: Papa Bear

The Golisopod is the gym leader’s starter that she found as a low-level Wimpod on the beach one day while she was cloudwatching and accidentally stepped on him. She felt really bad and brought him treats for weeks after that and visited him whenever she went to the beach. Eventually he came to trust her and started training so he could help this lady who kept feeding him and scaring off murkrow that would chase him around as she researched the weather patterns in their region. He has a habit of bringing home injured fellow bug-types to be nursed back to health, which is how he got his nickname and also how the gym leader got her other teammates, who decided to stick around after healing up.