#I was asking myself this question and failed to find an answer but at least now I have angst

[luimagines]

*Your requests are open, its 2:30am and I'm craving First content.*

You know that scene in HTTYD2 with Stoick and Valka

"Go on! Shout! Scream! Say something!"

"You're as beautiful as the day I lost you"

Either First as Stoick or as Valka would be interesting (or if First refuses to cooperate, Warriors or Twilight or Time would be fun)

*not me saying to myself I hope I'm bulletproof cause this is about to hurt*

Insanity, I'm going to run wild with this, thank you.

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

First wasn't about to let anyone get close to him. Not again.

He knew that he was still young enough to find someone to settle down with, but ever since you left, he couldn't find it in his heart to seek another.

There's a hole in his heart in your shape that was never to be filled again.

Then he was arrested. For a crime he didn't commit.

That was enough for him to give up. If he was to spend the rest of his days here, then so be it. The people have made their choice. He was a hollow man anyway.

The days crept by slowly. There was very little he could do the past the time except for daydream about a time where he was younger nd more carefree. A time when you were still by his side.

He had hoped to have a family. To be a father and raise children.

Dashed to pieces and scattered by the wind, his dreams failed to bring up happy memories and left him with dreamless and futile sleep.

Years go by and eventually he's set free at last. He's not as strong as he used to be but the people need him to fight. He's not sure how he's going to do that at this point, but if he is to die; then he would rather go down a hero.

It's not like you'll be there to patch him up at the end of the day anyway.

Instead, as he opens his eyes after the fight, there's another bandaging his wounds. He's vaguely aware that he won the fight and that he's lost a lot of blood but that's about it.

The rest of his life is lived in a haze.

He's sent to go find a special item for the people now that he's proven himself again but there's little that'll prove to Link that it exists.

Instead he finds a cave that he's been explored before and enters it with little thought. He's not expecting much. If there's monsters in here then he can dispose of them and call it a day before he goes back to town and tells the people that there was no such item.

"S-stay back!"

He freezes and raises his lantern. Link's greeted by massive crystals covering the walls of the rock, mirroring the light from his lantern and lighting up the small space as it is.

There's a cloth on the floor and a few supplies.

But that's not what has his attention.

"....It's you..." You breathe and panic seems to fill your system.

Link can only stare. It's as if you're here to haunt him, only you don't seem happy to see him. He can't find it in himself to complain though. He's wanted to see you at least one last time all these years. He wonders if he's actually dying a second time and this was a gift bestowed on him for doing his duty.

"I... I know what you're going to say, Link." You wince and try to stand. You're hurt... Or rather, you have been hurt. It must be difficult to move. "I know that you'd ask why I left. Why I stayed away all these years... and why I didn't come back to you..."

Link takes a step forward and you scramble the best you can to your feet despite the obvious pain. His heart clenches. The questions you throw at him are already answered for him. It would have been difficult to come back to him even if you wanted to.

You being to tear up. "I'm sure you'd want to know everything. A-and I know that I was wrong. I knew from the start. But I couldn't-"

He steps closer, gently putting his lantern on the floor so that it still lights up the place.

Your voice only seem to grow higher and more frantic. "I couldn't! Link, please. Not like this. I couldn't. Please believe me!"

He does and steps closer.

"Link! Answer me. Shout! Scream! I don't care if you start throwing things! Just say something!"

He stops in front of you, trapping you against the wall of the cave. He reaches out and hesitates before tucking a piece of your overgrown hair behind your ear.

"You're just as beautiful as the day I lost you."

Your tears fall as he leans to kiss you, to solidify this dream, to prove to himself that he's not hallucinating.

You don't kiss him back, but that's ok. You're real and you're here and you're alive.

This is far better than any item he was sent to find.

[amesstms]

-ˋˏ ➛ 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 𝟐, 𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑: 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇 . sentence starters . ᴏᴘᴇɴ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛs . ᴄᴏɴᴠᴇʀsᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴋᴀʀᴇɴ . ᴏᴜᴛsɪᴅᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴛᴇʟ .

❝ hey, sorry it took so long. fucking store was packed... ❞

❝ how you feeling? nothing broken? ❞

❝ double cheese, no onion, right? ❞

❝ hey, don't wolf that down... or at least take a breath... ❞

❝ like you care... ❞

❝ [ name ]... i do... ❞

❝ come on, [ name ]. don't act all hurt. it's too late. ❞

❝ where were you?! where... were you...? ❞

❝ fair enough. so let's talk. ❞

❝ i'm listening. ❞

❝ you know i don't have to answer your questions, right? ❞

❝ you're right. so tell me what you want from me, [ name ]... ❞

❝ nothing, [ name ]. i mean, what do you want from me? a fucking hug? ❞

❝ hey, i just want you to know what i did and why. if you care. so, ask me anything. ❞

❝ why did you bail on us? ❞

❝ i wasn't meant to be a wife/husband... or a mother/father. i thought i was supposed to... i tried to pretend for many years... but i was unhappy and the urge to leave just became unbearable... i had no other choice. ❞

❝ are you serious?! you chose this life! you fell in love, you made your own choices. right? ❞

❝ making your own choices doesn't mean you can never fool yourself, [ name ]... ❞

❝ there was so much going on around me yet somehow i just... felt that my own life was just slipping away. felt like an empty shell. ❞

❝ [ name ], it was the hardest decision i ever made. ❞

❝ i knew i might never see you all again, but i took that responsibility. ❞

❝ i didn't have a choice, [ name ]. ❞

❝ we only have one life, and i didn't want mine to be spent in regrets. ❞

❝ for years i've fooled myself, thinking i'd find satisfaction into what society expected me to be, and that was my mistake. ❞

❝ i hope someday you can understand that... ❞

❝ but i never stopped caring about you... ❞

❝ for what it's worth, i am sorry for hurting you and [ name ]... ❞

❝ i know you are, [ name ]. that still doesn't change the way i feel... ❞

❝ i know i can't change the past, [ name ]. ❞

❝ we were a real family without you. ❞

❝ well, [ name ] was meant to be a father/mother... i knew he/she would take care of you the way you deserved. ❞

❝ oh, please! it's too fucking late for that shit! ❞

❝ no matter what, you left your own kids and my dad/mom. so don't even. ❞

❝ i know it's too late. i just... i want you to know how i feel-- ❞

❝ i still don't care. jeez. ❞

❝ [ name ], whatever you want to say to me... this is the time. ❞

❝ let's just get it all out in the open, see what happens. ❞

❝ so, did you ever actually miss us? ❞

❝ i missed watching you grow up... see how you saw the world... ❞

❝ i missed sharing these moments with you, [ name ]. ❞

❝ we used to do so much stuff. ❞

❝ like when you taught me to ride because dad/mom sucked... ❞

❝ or when we went camping near [ location ]... just me and you... ❞

❝ you always loved night skies... ❞

❝ i did stargaze a lot when i was in [ location ]... ❞

❝ trust me, the further south you go, the better it gets... ❞

❝ well... that's your loss. ❞

❝ i don't expect you to believe me. but i mean it. ❞

❝ so... what did you do when you left? where did you go? ❞

❝ i pursued some dreams... and failed. ❞

❝ i guess all this time i tried to find out what really matters to me. ❞

❝ which doesn't involve a husband/wife and [ number ] kids. ❞

❝ it does to a lot of people, and i totally respect that. just not to me. ❞

❝ i wasn't good at making plans, which is what most of modern life is about, right? ❞

❝ i wanted to find my own way with no security blanket. ❞

❝ it's just all about security, after all. ❞

❝ but it just looked like a sweet golden jail to me. i tried to escape that. ❞

❝ hope it was worth it... ❞

❝ for now, i've found my place in the world with like-minded people. ❞

❝ i'm at peace with my fuck-ups and my decisions. ❞

❝ you just sound... immature. like a kid running away from home. ❞

❝ i think people should know who they are... and not fake it for anybody. ❞

❝ i mean, i get you wanted to leave and stuff... okay. but why ghost us like that? ❞

❝ not even a fucking birthday card. ❞

❝ i just... i thought if i vanished, you would all move on. ❞

❝ i wanted to contact you guys so many times. i almost did. ❞

❝ but you wanted a clean break from us... ❞

❝ i didn't want to be a part-time pissed off mother/father. not fair to any of you. ❞

❝ why do you wanna talk about all this shit now? i don't care. ❞

❝ hey, um... mind if i bum a smoke? ❞

❝ oh, man, [ name ] hated when i smoked... ❞

❝ fuck... life can be so cynical, sometimes... ❞

❝ i remember he/she/they would smoke sometimes... long ago... ❞

❝ we didn't fight much, but when we did... i would go out on the porch and light up so i could calm down... ❞

❝ [ name ] would come over and ask for a drag. then we'd just look up at the sky and watch the stars... or the planes... i do miss that. ❞

❝ i used to do the same with my best friend, [ name ]... sitting on the porch, just letting time go... ❞

❝ that's when you know someone is good to you. when you can just sit together, shut the hell up, and watch the universe do its own thing... ❞

[chuliann]

Error not remembering who Reaper is but still collecting Souls hoping they would make Reaper come to him in his Anti-Void, not knowing the reason he does that or why he feels the way he does.

[writingescapades]

Gratitude

Aventurine x Bodyguard Reader

He found you digging through the trash. Months of tracking you down led to nothing, and he was on the verge of giving you up when his luck rang through once again. Deciding to not waste the moment, he approached you and smiled when he saw how quickly your muscles reflexed into a ready stance despite your shabby appearance and weakened state. Always out for yourself. As expected of a mercenary.

He offered you the position right there. Be his bodyguard, and in exchange, well all the money you could possibly imagine.

“And I’m sure your pursuers will back off once they know you’re under the IPC”.

It was to be a formal relationship. An exchange of services. He made the contract, and you signed it.

“At least read it once before you sign it. You don’t know what I will be asking from you,” Aventurine cautioned.

“I don’t need to read to know what I’m getting myself into,” you replied calmly.

Indeed you never questioned your role, and very quickly established yourself as Aventurine’s silent shadow. Rumours spread that his murky character was only your shadow. That his eyes bewitched while yours homed in on the attack. Everyone soon watched their tongue around the IPC manager, least they find it cut by your sword. Sometimes Aventurine wondered if he really knew what he was getting himself into. Other times, he intentionally pushed you to see what it would take to make you snap from your calm demeanour. Impossible missions ranging from late night escapades, rescue missions, even getting up at 2 am to get him a snack. You bore it all with no malice. Truly, you were dangerous.

You had no friends and made no attempt to create new friends. They were possible attempts on his life was the rational you provided. Even if you wanted friends, Aventurine mused, no one would dare approach someone they knew might harm them, not in this stratum of society where foes and friends of the IPC were treated alike. Stuck with him, he supposed he could offer you a modicum of friendship. If only to stave off the loneliness of two people. He found himself exchanging slights of hand tricks, and asking questions to which your answers had him honestly laughing. It was fun, Aventurine realized, to have this banter between you within the familiarity of your roles. You were taciturn, but woe betide the fool who assumed nothing more lay behind your professional face.

It started with a mission plan. Late a night, echoes of the casino music and laughter reached to his hidden chambers where the IPC manager stayed up planning a stealth attack. Struggling over how to extract himself from the danger, he almost forgot you were there until he saw your arm reach over and readjust the plan. A sudden change of view and Aventurine’s problems fell away. He looked up at you only to see a gleam in your eyes as you stared at the mission plan. You were in your element.

“Foolish of me to not see things that way,” he murmured.

“Late night thoughts are dangerous, sir”.

There were several more moments like these. Nights when he awoke to sounds and only found you cleaning up. You would turn towards him and ask him in a gentle voice to go back to bed. The blood was always gone by morning. Another when he arrived to see his dinner had been eaten by you. Perspiration appeared on your forehead, and you began to wheeze. Still you quietly begged forgiveness, claiming that your hunger was uncontrollable. It was your duty, yet Aventurine didn’t understand why your actions carried such a depth of emotions within them. Worse yet, Aventurine didn’t understand why he grew concerned over you. It was your responsibility. So why did he wait till he heard you stop cleaning before slipping back to bed? Why did he panic over your poisoned state, ushering you to induce vomiting without a care for his clothes.

The turning point occurred during a casino night. Caught up in the moment, Aventurine failed to notice a pair of cold eyes, staring hard not at him but at his hand, the one that always stayed near his person when he played. All of a sudden, he could feel your presence near him, gently leaning into him, hiding his hand away from the world. He stared at you, but you stared ahead, challenging the eyes that dared to cast a glance at that which you protected so fiercely. He didn’t know when you noticed his habit, but for some reason, didn’t find it all that alarming that the one person to find out his secret was you. He knew you would keep it safe.

You became his confidant soon after. A hundred secrets, but a thousand smiles. For the first time laughter tailed Aventurine’s shadow, and people stopped differentiating between you both. Rumours began to spread, rumours Aventurine neither confirmed nor denied. He knew the emotion that linked the two of you. Gratitude. He hated it. Relations formed on such a flimsy emotion are quickly manipulated and broken. Like misery, the emotion wafted through life. It’s why he never questioned the second mug you left for him, or the extra plate of food. It’s what he told himself when you took his exhausted body to bed, gently stroked his head, and didn’t flinch when he screamed out at night and clenched your hand, nails digging deep enough to leave crescent-shaped tears.

Too scared to ask for more, Aventurine sustained his life on temporality. He once gave you a gift. Nothing but a miniature coin attached to a pin, but you had yet to remove it from your appearance. He told himself, he just wanted to thank you. It was also why he insisted on helping you clean your wounds, slowly tracing over your marred skin, gently asking if you were still alright. If you were still alive. Still with him. Enjoy the moment. Don’t ask for more.

So why was it that this particular moment had him far more upset than the situation warranted? In the white noise of the casino where glamour trumps sensibility, a gentleman had the gall to approach Aventurine. Accustomed to the routine, Aventurine watched the man wager a high stake. Like bees to honey, eyes swarmed the two men as they ascended the ladder of fate. As usual, no one saw Aventurine’s hand shake or the exhale when the odds came into his favour once more. As expected, the distraught man slipped out insults at his opponents. Sighing, Aventurine slipped into his role of providing superficial comfort. What he did not expect was the silver glint. A sudden clash of metal, and the click of a gun.

You were in front of him, blocking Aventurine from having to see the poor excuse of a human being. The gentleman’s dagger was pathetic in comparison to your sword and the gun you jammed into his head.

“The game is over, sir. Take your losses and go home”.

“You work for a cheat! A Scoundrel!”

Aventurine pressed his glasses closer to his eyes and smiled. Really, the man had guts to continue to insult when death stood right in front of him.

You easily flicked away the dagger.

“Hold your tongue. Leave now”.

The gentleman’s eyes narrowed as he registered you and your role. His lips curled and he sneered, “And here comes the guard dog, protecting its master”.

Aventurine gripped his hand and felt the engraving on the coin within, press into his skin. His lips thinned but he remained silent.

“A master worth protecting”.

Now both men looked at you, clearly shocked by your statement. Then the gentleman scoffed and snatched his hat.

“You’ve got them trained well, Gambler. But you better yoke them before they land you in trouble”.

You watched the man until he left the room. Behind, you could hear Aventurine lazily count his winnings. Clatter. Clatter. Clatter. The sound of each coin bounced off the room. Aventurine was upset. You sighed.

“I don’t like you accepting such talk!” the man sputtered out. It always amused you when he did this, concern choking his suave side.

“The man was angry. Let him bark,” you grinned at him. “I’m the one who bites”.

Aventurine turned his head away from you, failing to hide his smile. The he reached his hand out to you. Taking the cue, you sat near him. He shook off his glasses and placed his head on your shoulder. When you made no move to remove his head, he let it sink down as you buried your hands into his hair.

“Am I really worth protecting?” A quiet whisper came out.

“Yes”.

“I’m not your master,” this time the voice was firmer.

You hesitated. “The contract,”

“Damn the contract! You’re—We’re—. You can leave anytime you want!”

Silence hung in the air as you both pressed closer.

“I didn’t mean that,” Aventurine murmured, hand reaching for yours.

You placed you head on top of his. “Late night thoughts are dangerous, dear”.

Aventurine closed his eyes, feeling the edges of sleep flow in. There would be no going back now, but Aventurine found himself ready to slip off into the unknown, because now you were there, guarding his back. Was it gratitude? Maybe. But maybe, just perhaps. It was the start of something stronger. Something better that would etch itself upon his soul, overriding all the other scars.

[happy74827]

Chaos Theory

[Mike Schmidt x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: When Mike's crazy schedule finally aligns with one of the so-called "parental meetings" at Abby's school, he decides to see what it's all about. Little did he know he'd come to seriously regret that.

WC: 2,590

Category: Slight Fluff

I failed an exam today, so I wrote this to cheer myself up. I still feel pretty crappy, but this was really fun to write lol.

Also if you see any grammar mistakes, no you didn’t.

『••✎••』

When it came to Abby’s school, Mike was at a disadvantage. He couldn’t go to any of the parental meetings, not because he didn’t want to, but because he was constantly doing something work-related during the time those meetings were scheduled.

It didn’t mean he wasn’t keeping an eye on her grades and school attendance. It just meant he couldn't be there for the day-to-day things. Abby was a good kid, though; she never gave him trouble about the things he missed, and she did a pretty good job of keeping her grades up and attending all her classes.

Her teacher, you, was also very understanding of his schedule and position. He wasn’t sure how many teachers would have been as patient with him as you were. It was part of the reason he had grown fond of you, though it had been a gradual process that happened mostly unbeknownst to him.

At the beginning of the year, he had only been concerned about getting Abby acclimated to her new school. She was a quiet kid, stuck to her drawings, and it was even hard for him to get her to open up sometimes. Runs in the family, apparently. But, somehow, you were able to break down the wall that had been erected around her. Abby still didn't talk all that much, but she would always come back from school with a smile on her face. So, Mike was happy.

Then, like all good things, it came crashing down like a house of cards when his work schedule finally aligned with one of the “upcoming” meetings. This one was apparently a very big deal, and it was strongly implied to show up.

He hated these things despite never going to any before, but he just knew it would be filled with nosey people asking questions about his life. His sister. His “wife.”

God, he was already annoyed. The only saving grace was that it was the last meeting before the holiday break, so once it was over, he would be free for a while. Free to do what, exactly? Work, most likely, but a guy can dream.

The bell rang, signifying the end of the school day and the start of his personal nightmare. The door to the classroom was opened by one of the school's assistants, who held a clipboard in hand and waited for the “parents” to enter the room. He had arrived earlier than the scheduled time so he could speak to the assistant and find out what the meeting would entail, and already he knew it was a bad idea coming in here.

The woman was a nosy old biddy that was all too eager to learn the details of his and Abby's life.

He kept his answers short and clipped, but it did nothing to dissuade the woman. It got worse when he entered the classroom and saw the number of other parents who had shown up. He felt like an animal in a zoo; all the eyes followed his movements as he went to sit closest to the wall and away from the rest of the people.

The surrounding parents looked as though they lived in the next town over. They were clean-cut, hair styled perfectly, and clothes ironed. It was like they were trying to be a picture-perfect family.

He looked down at his own attire. His work boots were scuffed and dusty. His pants had a few grass stains from a recent job. His flannel shirt was buttoned wrong, and the sleeves were pushed up. Even his hair was a mess; he had tried to style it but didn't have much success, so he eventually gave up. The only thing going for him was that he had taken a shower before he left, so at least he didn't smell like sweat and grime.

As the meeting began, Mike had to try his best not to fall asleep. It was the typical teacher stuff. How the kids were doing. What the curriculum was for the following year. What their goals were. Blah, blah, blah.

Mike didn't care. He trusted you, and he knew his little sister was smart. She didn't need someone holding her hand and telling her what she was doing right or wrong. He knew this because he did that, and she didn't need it.

What did interest him, though, was the fact you kept looking his way. You didn't look at the others, and when you spoke, it was usually aimed toward them, but he saw the way you would look at him from the corner of your eye. He figured you were probably in shock that he actually showed up this time.

The meeting dragged on, and he was ready to leave. There were a few moments he had caught himself nodding off as he needed sleep, and this wasn't helping him. But then, like everything else in his life, the universe decided it was his time to suffer.

There was one woman who had sat at the front of the classroom. She wore her hair pulled back tight in a bun, her shirt was pressed, and her face was set in a permanent frown. He hated that lady; she reminded him of his good-for-nothing aunt who only wanted to criticize every choice he made.

The lady was also the mother of the most spoiled, brattiest child in the whole class. That damned kid had made it her life mission to torment Abby. He had come home more than once with her complaining about it, and when Mike had brought it up with you, you had told him that you had spoken with the parent.

That, of course, had done nothing. The child was an annoying pest, and he hated the way she treated Abby, but his sister had learned early on to deal with the bullying on her own. It didn't stop him from wanting to throttle the little shit, though.

The woman, the one who had started all his problems, took the opportunity to start a round of questioning. The first few were innocuous until they weren't.

"You seem to be a very patient woman." The woman had spoken to you, but her eyes were locked on him. "Is it a skill that was learned?"

The question itself was innocent enough, but the inflection and tone she used were meant to cut. He wasn't stupid. He knew she was alluding to something. It was always something, but he had to force himself not to say anything; the woman was a viper, and if he said something, she would attack without hesitation.

"I think anyone can be patient," You had responded diplomatically. "It's just a matter of the situation."

The woman didn't look happy with your answer, but she didn't pursue the line of questioning.

"Well, I couldn’t help but notice a certain someone who decided to finally drop in."

There it was. That was the opening.

Mike could tell you didn’t like the turn of conversation, and you were clearly trying to divert it elsewhere. It was no use, though. Mike could see the glint in the woman's eye as she prepared for the kill. She had a smile on her face, but her eyes were cold. "I was starting to think that Mr. Schmidt had abandoned his responsibilities. Wouldn’t be the first time someone in that family did such a thing."

He couldn’t help but have visions of his accidental mall incident from last year flash in his mind when he processed what the woman had said. He could easily hop over the desk and deck her right in the mouth. He had the muscle for it, and it was very tempting.

However, he would not.

If there was anything Mike had learned over the years, it was how to control his emotions, even if the situation was dire. The last time he had lost his cool, he ended up getting fired, but that was a long time ago… okay, not really, but the point was, he wouldn't make the same mistake again.

He wouldn't give the woman the satisfaction.

Mike leaned forward in his chair, arms crossed over his knees, and looked the woman straight in the eyes. "That's funny. I could say the same thing about your kid."

"Excuse me?!" She hissed, and she seemed offended. Good. He hoped she was offended.

"Okay, okay." You intervened, hands up as if to placate the two of them. "Let's keep this civil, okay? The last thing we want is to be kicked out of the school for brawling. That's not beneficial for any of us." You then looked back at the woman. "Let's not bring personal matters into this."

"Personal matters?" The woman was appalled at your statement, and her voice was so loud in the quiet room. He could tell many of the other parents were looking at them now, and he felt the weight of their gazes on him. It only made his anger spike. "That monkey of his tried to bully mine for three months now, and she's never done anything."

Monkey? Monkey?! Oh, he was going to kill her. It was one thing to talk shit about him; he was used to that, but Abby? No. Absolutely not. His little sister was the best damn thing to come into his life. He wouldn't have it.

But before he could say something, before he could even get out of the chair, you had done something he would never have thought you would. You got up and went to your desk, then you returned, holding a paper. You held it up for all the parents to see.

"This is a drawing my students did a few weeks ago," you started, and he was surprised at the level of calmness you were exuding. "The assignment was for them to draw the thing they loved the most."

Hearing those words, Mike had a feeling what was coming next, but he wasn't going to say anything. It would be like tempting fate. Still, he watched as you grabbed one of the papers, and then you turned it around so he could see it. Abby had done the drawing, and it was not only of him but of everyone else in her class as well. She had even drawn you standing near her with a kind smile. It was the picture she had brought home from that field trip months ago. It was a nice picture. Really nice. He liked it, and he knew Abby was proud of it.

"I made copies of every drawing so the parents could see them," You continued as you held out the picture for everyone to see. "So, tell me, would a bully do this?"

Your voice had a bite to it now, and he could finally see just how angry you were. He was surprised at how much control you were exerting. The other parents, however, were shocked at your sudden display of emotion. Even the woman, who had looked as though she was ready to take you on herself, looked like a deer caught in headlights. She didn't know what to say. No one said anything. Even he was shocked by your sudden outburst.

You were normally such a mellow person. Understanding, even. Always ready to listen, always ready to understand. You were the one who was there to help when something went wrong. You were the person who everyone turned to. You were… nice. You were a kind person. You were—you were just like Abby. That's all he saw in you now. You were just like his sister. You were just like her. You had that same determination and that same look of knowing something that others didn't, but there was also something else. You were a fighter, too. It was just something he hadn't noticed until this very moment.

You weren't the nice teacher everyone thought you were. No, you were more. You were the person he knew his sister was becoming.

"And to answer your question from before," you continued, ignoring the growing outrage from the other parent. "I'm a very patient woman because I understand that not everyone has the same opportunities. Some of us have a responsibility to provide the basic necessities for our family, which can often lead to not being able to attend these types of meetings.”

You looked directly at the woman when you spoke the last part, and you did not look happy. At all. In fact, he was pretty sure that was a little vein on the side of your head.

"Not everyone can be at their best every moment. Not everyone is at their best all the time. Not everyone has the privilege to complain about things not going their way. So, while I am a very patient woman, I will not have any of this derogatory about my students and their guardians." The calmness in your voice was gone, and your voice was rising, and you had started pacing back and forth behind your desk as you spoke. "Because if there is one thing that I cannot stand, it's someone who criticizes others just to make themselves feel better."

You went on to speak about your experience with the woman's daughter, explaining that a meeting needed to be called upon to address the issues with the child. You didn't stop there, though. No, you also spoke about how she should have addressed the situation when it was first brought up and how that, in turn, impacted the rest of your class. You had even pointed out some of the other parent's children who had done the same thing.

Suddenly, this meeting wasn't as bad as he thought it would be.

It took a while, but once you finished your little speech, everyone had finally gotten over their shock and embarrassment. The meeting, as such, continued without incident, and by the time it was all said and done, Mike was ready to go home.

As he stood from his seat and made his way to the door, however, you stopped him. You had your bag in your hand and your coat on as well.

"I just wanted to—"

"You don't need to apologize," Mike cut you off. He didn't want an apology. He knew you weren't at fault here. In fact, he was surprised you took the time even to defend him. That didn't happen often. "I was expecting something like that to happen, but I appreciate you speaking up for Abby. She's got a good teacher."

He thought you would be embarrassed or even annoyed, but instead, your face lit up, and your cheeks turned red. "Oh, uh, well, it's my job. It was what I needed to do."

"Maybe, but you did it anyway. So, I appreciate it." He looked around the room and noticed everyone else had left. Even the nosy assistant had disappeared. He didn't know what to say, so he settled with saying the first thing that came to mind. "And hey, maybe next time you can tell them this is why I don't go to these meetings."

Your laugh was light, and you had a smile on your face. He liked the sound of it. He liked seeing it, too. He also liked the way it lit up your eyes. They had a beautiful color. So bright, so shiny. It was almost hypnotic.

"I'll consider it."

Mike wasn't sure how, but somehow, he knew you were telling the truth.

[strangersteddierthings]

Bad News First, Eddie

Part One 🦇 Part Two🦇Part Three🦇FInal Part

A continuation of Bad News First, Eddie. I am absolutely floored by the responses I received, and I will try my best to tag everyone who asked. I know it's not Eddie's part, but chronologically, Wayne's part felt right.

-

Of all the things Wayne’s been called, unobservant isn’t one of them. He’s lived in Hawkins his entire life. He knows who is who, what is what, and to keep his head down and believe there’s a cougar in the woods when he’s told.

So, when Nancy Wheeler shows up, asking questions, Wayne has answers. Is willing to give those answers because he remembers when little Will Byers went missing, and how Nancy and her friends had done more to try and find him than the entire police force of Hawkins. Nancy and her friends always seemed to be in the orbit of whatever terrible thing was happening in Hawkins these last few years.

So, foolishly, terribly, he doesn’t intervene. He thought they were like that Scooby Doo cartoon Eddie used to love; kids solving mysteries. If he’d known the true extent of the horror, he wouldn’t have let those kids go it alone. But he didn’t know then.

-

Still didn’t know the day he pretends to not know who Dustin Henderson is while swapping out Eddie’s missing poster. It’s easier than having to face someone who knows Eddie, someone who had been looking for him but failed to find him.

Until Dustin calls after him. Until Dustin speaks to him. Hands him Eddie’s necklace. Wayne can’t stand anymore, this breaks him. Dustin says he was with him, in the end. Calls Eddie a hero, said people would have loved him had they known him. It’s nothing Wayne doesn’t already know.

Eddie is his hero. He loves Eddie. And if he’d stepped in sooner, chased down these kids and asked just what the fuck was happening, maybe he could have changed the ending of this story.

-

Hawkins explodes into a hellscape days later and Wayne sets out to find Nancy Wheeler. If Eddie gave his life to protect these kids, then Wayne must strive to do no less.

Nancy’s got a good head on her shoulders, willing to accept any help offered. He can see how she’s survived this long. She gets in in touch with Hopper, who introduces him to Doctor Sam Owens and Lt Colonel Jack Sullivan.

-

He doesn’t think it’s fair that the fate of the world rests on the shoulders of a fourteen-year-old girl.

-

It’s Dustin who tells him the whole story, the night before the end. Either Eleven will win tomorrow, or she won’t, but the outcome gets decided then.

“I’m s-so sorry, Mr. M-Munson. We just… just left him there!” Dustin breaks down crying and Wayne reaches out to him, an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug. If Wayne sheds a few tears, too, well. Who can blame him?

“Doctor Owens, a word,” Wayne pulls the man aside after the kids have gone to bed. “Dustin said… my boy is just yards away from our trailer. He didn’t even get out of the park. I understand it’s an all hands on deck situation, but can anyone be spared? Can anyone bring my boy back? I’ll go myself if I have to.”

Doctor Owens, a genuinely kind man, Wayne can tell, has tears filling his eyes just at the request. “Mr. Munson, we will do everything in our power to bring your boy home.”

-

Doctor Owens pays for the headstone. Said it was the least he could do since his team failed. Wayne tries not to be bitter about it.

The graffiti starts up almost immediately. Wayne doesn’t understand why.

-

He thinks he’s caught someone in the act, grabs roughly at the perpetrator and yanks. The Harrington boy stumbles up and back, a little bit of fear in his eyes but no paint in hand. He’s holding a rag and small container of paint thinner. A quick look between Harrington and the grave, he can see the half-cleaned headstone.

He’s never spoken much with Harrington, but Dustin has nothing bad to say.

“You know my boy?” because he can’t bring himself to say ‘knew’ just yet.

Harrington looks just about as haunted as Wayne feels when he says, so quietly, “Not as well as I would have liked, sir.”

-

Wayne is observant, but even he can admit it takes longer than he thought to figure out Steve Harrington. That boy had put himself between those kids and danger again, and again, and again, and lived. Eddie did it once and… well, Wayne reckons Steve thinks it should have been him. He won’t say so out loud, but Wayne sees a lot of his younger self in Steve, knows him in much the same way he knows himself.

Steve lives with a guilt he shouldn’t; this was Eddie’s choice. His reckless, dangerous, courageous choice. And they’ve got to learn to live with it. Steve’s parents are absent, and Wayne’s nephew is gone. Without any conscious decision about it, they’ve adopted each other.

Steve wants to know everything about Eddie. Every little story Wayne can come up with. And he, well, he loves that someone wants to know. Wants to remember Eddie with him.

“Bad news. I regret not knowing him sooner,” Steve confesses to him one day as they scrub the headstone clean again.

“Good news. You know him now,” Wayne replies.

“Do I?”

Wayne can’t answer that. Not honestly one way or another. How well can you know someone from secondhand information? Steve spent a total of five days in his nephew’s company but he helps keep his memory alive. “I don’t know. What I do know is that Eddie Munson won’t be forgotten when I die. And that matters.”

-

He gets in an accident at the plant. He doesn’t remember what happened, not fully, but he knows that Steve never left his side. Demanded his come stay in his big empty house. Easier to move around in, with all the open space.

Wayne wasn’t really attached to his apartment anyway. If he was going to live the rest of his life in a home that had never known Eddie’s presence, it could at least be with someone who had known Eddie’s presence, however briefly.

-

Wayne wonders if he’s done the right thing sometimes. Indulging Steve’s need to know Eddie. At first, he thought it was fine, because learning about Eddie seemed to alleviate Steve’s guilt. But now.

He’s watching the boy fall in love with a ghost.

Helping it happen, even.

Robin and Steve aren’t nearly as quiet or subtle as they think, and Wayne’s observant. They seem to forget that Wayne’s just old, and not deaf and blind.

Or maybe, they’re comfortable enough that they don’t truly hide from him.

And it hurts his heart to think this (because he’s thinking it about his Eddie, wonderful, loving Eddie) but Steve deserves to love more than a ghost.

-

And then the kids graduate. Start to go to college. Steve acts fine, but he’s not. Wayne knows. It’s like he’s losing his purpose, but Wayne’s just as broken. Not strong enough to push Steve away. To make Steve go, too.

Honestly, he’s a little afraid that if he tried, then Steve would follow right after Eddie.

So, he doesn't. He decides he needs Steve, and perhaps even more so, Steve needs him.

-

Then, five years after Eddie’s death, the call happens. It’s about his piece of shit little brother, Wyatt. He’s gotta go, though. Because this is one last strand of Eddie. Eddie’s mother has been gone longer than Eddie, and fuck, Wyatt deserves to know. Wayne doesn’t claim to be a saint; if his brother wasn’t being released, he’d probably never tell him. He’d let him die in that prison believing his son is alive.

He doesn’t even know if Wyatt will care that Eddie’s gone. But he’s got to find out.

Steve drives him to the airport and no matter how many times Wayne says he’s coming back, Steve doesn’t seem to believe him.

-

But it’s not his shitty little brother waiting to greet him in Tennessee. It’s Eleven.

“Sorry for the lie, Mr. Munson,” she says. “I wanted to tell you as soon as I learned but Doctor Owens said that, this one time, we needed to be right before we could be honest.”

It’s Eddie. It’s Eddie Wyatt Munson, who looks at him shyly, almost as if afraid, from the apartment doorway Eleven takes him to. “Hey Uncle Wayne.”

It’s five fucking years too late but he pulls Eddie in a bone crushing hug. “I love you so much, you little bastard. Don’t you ever, ever do this to me again.”

-

Wayne learns.

They had found him, barely alive. It was better, they said, to take him away. Let the town cool down while Eddie healed, but he was catatonic for the better part of these last five years.

“Eddie woke up empty,” Eleven says softly, apropos nothing sitting next to Wayne as they watch Eddie discuss next steps with Owens. “He could be told to do things. Drink this. Eat that. His eyes never focused on anything. Doctor Owens called him a shell. I asked what that means. He said that Eddie’s body worked, but his mind did not because Eddie was not in his own mind anymore. But I knew he was in there. I had to get him back.” She reaches a hand out, waving in the general direction of Eddie’s head.

This surprises Wayne. “You brought him back?”

“Memory by memory,” Eleven says, picking at her pants leg. “Even the painful ones. Doctor Owens says every memory shapes who we are, even tough ones.”

Wayne looks at Eleven, a young woman of nineteen now, but remembers how scared and brave she’d been at fourteen.  “Words cannot express how thankful I am for you.”

“I did it for you. And maybe a little bit for me.”

Wayne makes a humming noise. Not truly questioning, but an acknowledgment of what she said. If she wants to share her reasons, he won’t stop her. He’s just not going to pry.

“I chose my friend. I chose Max.”

He knows. “You made the right choice.”

“I know. I am not guilty about it,” she frowns as she thinks about her words. “But Dustin is my friend, too, and I knew Eddie was his friend. But I cared more about Max. I had to do all I could to make it right. For you. For Dustin. For me.”

Wayne doesn’t have words, so he just pulls Eleven into a hug. It must convey all he needs because when she pulls back, she beams at him.

-

Wayne fills Eddie in on what has happened as best he can. It’s such a jarring difference, speaking to Eddie about Steve than it had been speaking to Steve about Eddie. Eddie just looks confused for most of it and doesn’t really ask followup questions, but Wayne understands. Eddie had known Steve for five days and he’s got time to really get to know Steve now. Steve thought all he’d ever have of Eddie is someone else’s memories.

“Just give him a chance, Eddie,” Wayne says.

“Give him a chance? As if I’d waste it,” Eddie breaths out, all wonder and awe and- Well, maybe Wayne isn’t as observant as he had always thought. “He took care of you when I couldn’t. He cares. I don’t think there’s a chance I wouldn’t give him.”

“How long have you had a thing for Steve?”

Eddie stutters over his words, eyes wide and wild. “That’s not- why would you think- when have I ever!?”

“You think I wouldn’t know this about you?” Wayne chuckles and lies, as if he hadn’t just watched all the pieces slot together in this moment.

“So, we’ll be living with Steve Harrington?” Eddie is blushing but he blows past Wayne’s question. “Will he… be okay with me being there?”

Steve’s been loving a ghost, is what Wayne thinks. Steve’s been in love with a ghost and this. This is a ghost story that can have a better ending. But he’s not going to make those declarations for Steve, so what he says is, “yeah. Steve and I had each other when we needed it. Now I need you, so Steve won’t mind at all.”

Eddie smiles to himself, pulling a strand of his hair to hide his face behind.

If he hadn’t just figured it out two minutes ago, that would have been a dead giveaway that his boy might be a little bit in love with Steve.

-

He calls Steve. Tells him he’s coming home and bringing a guest. Steve says that’s fine, he’ll fix up Robin’s old room into a guest room.

-

“This isn’t the way to the Harrington house,” Eddie observes from the passenger seat of the rental car Doctor Owens had paid for, to get them from Indianapolis back to Hawkins.

“Steve won’t be there. He comes here when he’s overwhelmed.”

“The cemetery?”

Wayne shrugs, “we both come talk to you. Steve always starts with the bad news, you know. I think you should start with good news. Just this once. Ah. See, there he is.” Wayne points and Eddie’s eyes follow.

Something akin to wonder passes over Eddie’s face and he all but falls out of the car before it’s even stopped.

Wayne thinks he’ll give them five or so minutes before following.

[teaboot]

Forgive me if you’ve already answered something similar but how do you deal with crushing guilt when you did fuck up but there’s not really anything you can do to like make amends or you’ve already done anything you could and still feel guilty?

Like I know the guilt isn’t productive at all, if anything it’s just paralyzing me, and mentally beating myself up over it isn’t actually helping anyone. But I don’t know where to go from there. Idk how to actually forgive myself, or at least be able to move on

CW FOR SELF HARM

Okay, so this is something I've had to work through for a very long time myself, and there's a few different strategies that I've used to cope and process with varying levels of success.

What I used to do was handle the "I've ruined everything and hurt people and am never going to be forgiven" feeling by hurting myself in a number of creative and stupid ways, from physical hurt (Everything you'd expect) to mental hurt (wallowing, speaking badly of myself, going over the bad thing over and over again in my head) to passive hurt (neglecting my health, not eating properly, failing to pursue good living conditions, letting others hurt me, deliberately wandering into risky situations) and despite any short-term relief or peace I got, none of it ultimately fixed anything.

At the end of the day, making myself suffer as retribution or apology didn't fix the thing I'd done and didn't make the guilt go away, and all it gave me was an additional sense of shame and isolation because now not only was I a garbage person, I was a garbage person with something to hide from my loved ones. Zero out of ten, do not recommend.

The stuff that DID help was harder and is going to sound stupid because *I thought it was stupid* until it worked for me.

First: Learn the difference between GUILT and SHAME.

GUILT is how you feel about your choices.

SHAME is how you feel about yourself.

"I was late to a date again, that was inconsiderate": GUILT. The issue can be resolved by analyzing the reason behind the action and planning steps to avoid repeating it in the future. Guilt is productive because it motivates us to improve our choices. Once you've corrected the behaviour, it's over.

A"I was late to a date again, I'm inconsiderate": SHAME. The issue can be resolved by asking ourselves:

What negative thing to I believe about myself?

What other experiences support this belief? What evidence do I have that the bad thing is true?

Do those previous experiences have anything in common? Where they actually proof of a personal lack, or did someone just tell me they were? Were my choices and actions understandable? Did I have a reason? Was I trying to hurt others, or was it a mistake, accident, or learning experience? Have I grown from that experience?

Can I forgive myself for the past? What do I need to do to forgive myself for those past events? Was I really at fault at all, or was it out of my control?

Accept that.

Your present traumas and shames often have roots in beliefs you had about yourself before the new shameful thing occurred. When you dig into resolving the issues that led to today, you can use those conclusions to work through tomorrow. This is something I learned in cognitive behavioral therapy.

There are a number of ways of unpacking these questions, but as I felt I was deliberately avoiding my thoughts and feelings, I chose to jump into them directly, and found it to be effective.

You can write things down, talk to someone, paint something, draw something, whatever. Whatever at all works for you.

My solutions was to find a comfortable place on the floor, sit down, close my eyes, and do box-breathing (in for 4, hold for 4, out for 4, hold for 4) while deliberately thinking about every upsetting memory attached to a specific bad belief that I could recall until I had nothing left to go over.

Judge and jury. Was I a bad person, or did I make a mistake? Did I have malicious intentions, or did someone accuse me of malicious intentions? Am I bad, or have I been conditioned to believe I'm bad? And at the end of it all, am I capable of better? Do I want to be better? And would a truly bad person care?

It was more emotional than I expected the first few times. Cried a lot, actually. But if I can liken it to a common feeling, it was like getting out of a very thorough shower and realizing you didn't know how dirty you were before.

The process sucks ass, no lie, but it's worth it. Like draining pus from a gnarly wound to get it healed up properly.

I'm not an expert, of course, but life has gotten better since I started. I'm better at forgiving myself, at least.

Also: Some people will never forgive others even for tiny things. Sometimes once you've done your best, you've just gotta say "fuck 'em". C'est la vie, mon amie.

Good luck, yeah?

♡

[tsukimefuku]

wardrobe malfunction ❖ nanami kento

summary: your cursed technique isn't exactly clothing-friendly, and when you find yourself in a less than ideal situation, you only had one person you could ask for help.

tags: jujutsu kaisen, f!reader, light nanami x reader, cursing, kind of suggestive but not exactly (?), second hand embarrassment is real, this is just pure crack to be honest, is reader lucky or unlucky? i fret, for i do not know, this is barely proofread because i wrote this absolute nonsense on a complete whim, i hope you have as much fun reading this as i did writing it.

wc: 1k

❖ collection of stories: "jujutsu partners au" → masterlist for fics listed in chronological order of events

You had just finished blowing up a grade 2 curse that lunged at you full-speed. Your chest heaved up and down with tiny droplets of sweat coming down, as you panted inside the abandoned apartment complex. For a while, the adrenaline pumping through your veins made it hard to assess your state, but then, as you began decelerating and looked at your body, you realized something.

“Oh, no. Not again.” 

Considering your innate cursed technique involved casting small bombs of cursed energy, they could blow up through many things, and when you didn’t manage to distance yourself from them before the impact… Well, safe to say that some things were bound to happen.

You pulled your phone ready to call… someone. Anyone, really. But the ancient piece of technology that you failed to replace in these past few weeks wouldn’t let you access your contacts list, providing you solely with your three last dialed numbers — Gojo, Yaga and Nanami.

Your fucking phone. Your damn, fucking phone.

Just thinking about this had you beyond mortified, but it was either this, or never leaving the building again. So you took a deep breath before pressing dial.

***

Nanami found Shoko to take care of some minor injuries on his arm, and as she was finished, his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket, and saw your name flashing on the screen.

As he answered, you stuttered for a moment before mustering up the courage to speak.

“So, Nanami, I need, uh, some assistance.” 

He found that to be odd, considering you knew he was on another mission today, and this was a solo endeavor for you.

“Has something happened?”

“So, you know how my technique works, right?”

That question had the sorcerer feeling somewhat puzzled, given he had seen you use it — and explain it — multiple times already.

“Of course, we've been on missions together, and you have explained it to me more than once.”

You sighed before proceeding. “So, here's the thing, I kind of blew myself up.” 

That quickly got his attention and he tensed up. Shoko had just finished removing her gloves and noticed it.

“Are you injured?” His usually impassive voice had a hint of worry to it.

“No, no. I'm fine. Sometimes this kind of happens, and I'm pretty used to blocking the impact and using RCT if needed.” 

Is it her? Is she okay? She better be, I need her tomorrow, Shoko whispered at Nanami as she walked around and sat on a bench in front of him.

He didn’t notice what she asked, as he was humming confusedly, given you still hadn’t clarified why you called.

Your voice kind of cracked up for a moment, as you violently blushed on the other side. At least, the phone is an imageless form of communication.

“So, I’m okay. But my clothes, they, uh… I blew them up.”

He slowly began taking in what exactly you were saying.

“That's it, that’s what happened. I… I need clothes, please. Can you bring me some, just so I can get out of here without getting arrested for public indecency?”

Nanami kept silent for some time, and felt a slight rush of heat run over his cheeks.

“Nanami?” 

He coughed slightly, tensing his posture as he did.

“Yes, of course. But wouldn't you rather someone else to do that for you, like Ms. Nitta, or one of the female students?” 

That caught Shoko’s attention, and she discreetly looked at the sorcerer while he was still on the phone with you.

You nearly gagged.

“No! No way. I… I'm mortified as is.”

Somebody please fucking kill me.

“I can't talk about this with anyone else. It's too damn embarrassing,”  you stated, letting your mind go to random facts in order to try lifting the mood. “I now understand why that student from Kyoto keeps taking his shirt off to fight, but that's beside the point.”

You were met at the wake of your failed joke.

“I-I mean… Just bring me something, please.” 

Nanami cleared his throat as he pulled on his tie and opened his shirt’s top button.

“Fine. Send me your location.”

You sighed, relieved.

“Great, you're the best, thank you!”

He switched his phone off and grounded himself for a moment.

“Is she alright?” 

“Yes, she is,” he answered, some words choking on their way up for a second. “Ms. Ieiri, do you happen to have any clothes around here?” 

“What? Why would you need that?”

He couldn’t muster up anything remotely feasible to say, and given that embarrassment is an infectious condition, it began creeping up on him, too.

Nanami resumed speaking. “… I'm sorry to bother you. I just remembered I can get an assistant's uniform.” 

He then walked towards the door to leave.

“Nanami…” Shoko began.

“Hm?” He asked, as turning around.

“… Are you blushing?”

“... Good afternoon,” he answered, before stepping out a little quicker than usual.

***

Nanami had just arrived, and you let him know you were upstairs. As he asked how you wanted to receive the clothes, you were insistent that he threw the bag over the steps, and being a reasonable and rational person, the sorcerer obviously declined to do that.

“Just throw the thing already!” you yelled from the top of the stairs, away from his sight.

“I’m not uncivilized,” he replied, sighing. “I’m going to put them down here, and wait for you outside.”  

Nanami was considerably less mortified than you would expect, but it was him, Mr. mature, after all. Also, this wasn’t the first embarrassing situation of yours that he had witnessed.

You were prone to setting yourself up for absurd shenanigans, it seemed.

As you heard him leave and close the door, you stepped your way down and flimsily put the black pants and white buttoned shirt, which didn’t match at all with the hiking boots you usually wore on missions.

You went outside, and were met by him, his usual impassiveness slightly disturbed by something you couldn’t quite yet identify.

“Thank you, Nanami,” you stated, sighing relieved.

“It’s no trouble,” he answered, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. 

You were both uncomfortably silent for a while.

“These kinds of unexpected things happ-”

“We will never talk about this again as long as I live, please, I can’t cope” you pleaded, voice simmering with desperation for this awkward moment to be over, “just, please.” 

He cleared his throat, mindlessly adjusting his tie around his neck. It strangely felt more tight than usual.

“Of course. I apologize.”

“No need. It’s fine. Let’s just go back to Jujutsu High and pretend this never happened.”

“I do not know what you’re talking about,” he said, sparing you a quick glance.

You smiled, amused and thankful.

“Right. Precisely.” 

[oneawkwardwriter]

Bedtime Tales

pairing: Wonka!Willy Wonka x literary nerd!gn!reader warnings/tags: Wonka spoilers!, just a lighthearted story, reader being a huge nerd totally not inspired by myself no... summary: reader finds out that not only has Willy never learned how to read, he was also never read to as a child, so they make a deal a/n: I'm lowkey obsessed with the new Wonka film, I can't even learn for major tests without seeing connections wc: 942

"What do you mean you can't read?" You asked in astonishment as you stare at the chocolatier in front of you.

"I just can't..." Willy said rather matter-of-factly, shrugging his shoulders as he took in the shocked expression on your face. "I never needed to, so I never learned it."

"Would've come in handy at zoo," Noodle muttered under her breath, "We nearly got eaten by a tiger."

"Keyword: nearly," Willy emphasised, "I've nearly been eaten by a lot of things, and they only got as much as a nibble."

"Okay, yeah, that's... that's not really comforting," You replied, shaking your head as if to process the thought, "So, you don't how to read... but at least you've been read to when you were a child, right? Right...?"

But Willy only shook his head, making your eyes widen more. "You've never been... right, okay, uhm... right, yes..." You're stumbling over your words, trying to form a coherent sentence and failing miserably. "Right, well... I'm sorry, but how has someone with so much imagination never been read to? Where do your ideas come from if not from stories?"

"I don't know, they just... form in my mind?" Willy answered, not sure how to respond to your questions. "I think you're making this a bigger deal than it has to be."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. the Chocolatier," You reply sarcastically as you look him dead in the eye, "I didn't realise that you were capable of such great things. Why would you even need to read? You already traveled around the world, so there's no need for you to immerge yourself into another."

"Are you sure she's still talking about my non-ability to read?" Willy asked Noodle, still confused but also slightly intrigued by your apparent affinity for reading.

"Hey, you pissed off the literature nerd, not me," Noodle simply answered before going back to her chores.

"Okay, you're exaggerating, I'm not pissed off," You clarify as you shake your head, "I'm just... baffled by the fact that you've never bothered with anything related to reading."

Truth be told, they could've gone around in circles like that forever if it hadn't been for Mrs. Scrubbit checking everyone's attendance and sending them to their separate rooms.

You leaned against the door and sighed, tired from yet another exhausting day at the bleachers. You sat down on your bed and let your head rest in your hands. Having been at the laundromat and bleachers for a few years now and still having several years ahead of you, you had given up on dwelling over your miserable predicament.

So instead, you got out a book from your suitcase, one of your very few possessions. Seeing as the lightbulb above your head kept on flickering and wouldn't provide much light, you moved over to the window, where the moon casted a dim glow over the pages.

After a while, you heard a soft psst coming from the window of the room across from yours. You looked up, only for your eyes to catch the gaze of the brilliant, illiterate young man.

"So, I had a talk with Noodle, and she offered to learn me how to read," Willy said, "She said it would be necessary if this whole chocolate selling operation works through."

"Well, that's a nice offer," You reply, "And I agree with her. You won't always be able to depend on others to do the reading for you."

"Now that you mention it, maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing," He comments, "I mean, you seemed to be a advocate for being read to, right?"

You can't help but lightly chuckle. "There's a massive difference between having someone read for you and someone read to you, Mr. Wonka," You say, "One creates a depency, the other provides an escape."

"Well, if that's the case, let's hope that prisoners aren't being read to," Willy joked, lightly grinning when he saw a faint smile creep up your lips. "See, who needs to read when a clever choice of words can make even the most stubborn of people crack a smile?"

"Who are you calling stubborn, Mr 'My near-death experience doesn't mean I should learn how to read'?" You ask rethorically as you raise and eyebrow at him, "Besides, it's often a clever choice of words that makes reading so worthwhile."

"Well, I suppose you'll have to prove that to me in order for me to believe it," He argued, secretly hoping you'd concede.

"Oh, is that how it has to be?" In your mind, you were somewhat thrilled to indulge and with that, be able to share something you were passionate about. But what's the fun in simply saying okay? "Well, I suppose if you asked kindly enough I would think about it..."

"Alright, alright..." Willy said as he stifled a smirk while rolling his eyes. "Would you, please, read to me so I may realise at last what I've been missing out on?"

"Because you asked so politely and totally weren't forced to do so, I will indulge you, Mr. Wonka," You say, fighting back a smile of your own.

And so, you start to read, occasionally looking up only to find fim listening attentively. Right before the story reaches its climax, you shut the book.

Being surprised by the sudden halt, Willy snaps out of his hazy state of drifting off into the story and looks confused.

"Hey, why did you stop?" He asks in astonishment, "How am I supposed to know how the story ends?"

"I guess we'll find out another time," You say, a slight smirk forming on your lips. "Good night, Willy."

© This work belongs to @oneawkwardwriter, please do not copy this work to any other site or claim it as your own. Reblogs are allowed and appreciated!

[thelov3lybookworm]

Remember Me? (Part 14)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

Summary: Under the Mountain, Y/n met the High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand. She was scared of him, but soon she found out that he wasn't who he pretended to be. Despite her efforts at not falling in love with him, she fails. It's not that bad as he loves her back.

But now he's gone, and she's left alone with nothing.

Except for a very adorable reminder of him.

•○●⛦●○•

Tw: secret pregnancy, none more that I can think of, so let me know if I need to add anything.

A/n: (￣y▽￣)╭ Ohohoho.....

thats all i got to say

(also, consider this a peace offering after the cliffhanger of the previous part 😏)

enjoy!

•○🌑○•

"What do you mean you can't find Nyx?" Eris questioned, stepping forward to address Feyre properly while Y/n simply stared at her.

"He- he was with me in my room. But then I got up to wash my hands because there was paint on them, and when I returned, he was nowhere to be seen."

"Did you ask his maid?"

"Yes. She has not seen him since after she left him with me." Feyre glanced at Y/n with tears in her eyes, her lower lip wobbling.

Y/n reached out, tugging Feyre into a hug. The moment Feyre's head made contact with Y/n's shoulder, her tears began flowing.

Y/n felt numb, her worries raging in the back of her mind. There was only questions swirling through her head, and the answer to all those question echoing in her head.

What if it is Rhys? What if her somehow broke through the wards? Is he here to take Nyx away for some sick scheme of his?

And as she pondered about the situation, she became all the more confident in her answer.

I will go with him. Offer myself up so he would let Nyx go.

After all, it was her own fault that Feyre and Nyx's life had been ruined. If she had not went to Velaris, everyone would have been living happily.

She could not take Fin with her, but she was sure Eris would take care of him.

"Everything will be fine, Feyre. I will send out as many guards as it takes to search for him. I'm sure he will be found. Maybe he has only gone wandering into a nearby forest."

Feyre sniffled against Y/n, and that brought her back to the present.

Before Y/n could reassure Feyre too, two thuds sounded. And, turning her head to look, she found herself staring at two Illyrians and a female, all staring wide eyed at the scene before them.

Y/n's brows furrowed before she realised that these people were a part of the Night Court.

She swallowed, rubbing Feyre's back.

"Feyre?" The blonde female spoke up, causing Feyre to startle and glance up. Whatever colour was left on her face drained, and she glanced around, probably thinking of a way to escape.

When she found nothing, she turned back to the three people, offering something that looked more like a grimace than a smile.

"Hello." Feyre fiddled with her fingers, doing everything to not meet their eyes.

"Why?" It was the one with red gems adorning his form that spoke up, emotion evident in his voice.

Feyre sighed, opening her mouth to speak, but before she could, the other Illyrian, who had blue gems on his form, advanced menacingly.

He made his way straight towards Eris, and, panicked, Y/n wrapped her hand around Eris's bicep and pulled him closer. She did not know what she was hoping it would do to help, but at least it calmed her down.

And it also made the illyrian slow down a little, even though his eyes looked murderous.

"Why did you bring her here? So you could-"

"Azriel." Feyre called, stopping the male from advancing further. He turned to glance at her.

"I... I came of my own free will."

"But why?" Cried the blonde female.

Feyre rubbed her temples. "I will tell you, but not now. After the meeting. I will tell you all of what happened."

The other Illyrian, the one with the red gems, took a few steps forward to engulf Feyre in a hug. "It's okay. You can tell us whenever you feel comfortable."

"Thank you, Cassian."

The illyrian whose name was Azriel nodded, and the blonde woman looked away, but not before Y/n spied tears in her eyes.

She felt bad for them, as Feyre had been their family and they had been left in the dark for so long.

Feyre pulled back from the hug as if she remembered something. "Please don't tell Rhys where I am."

Everyone nodded, before Cassian grinned.

"So. Where is my nephew?"

A new rush of tears flooded Feyre's eyes.

"He is missing. I was trying to search for him just before you showed up."

The smile dropped from Cassian's face, and he turned to look at Azriel.

And then, a sound that had everyone going rigid and sighing in relief at the same time came from outside the huge doors, and both Fere and Y/n rushed forward.

And there, sat on a golden beast's head, was a giggling Nyx.

•○🌑○•

General Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392

Eris Taglist: @kennedy-brooke @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @tele86

Remember me Taglist: @holb32 @awoa1 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @luvmoo @we-were-beautiful @eerievixen @zoe2 @fussel9913 @j-pendragonx @thesnugglingduck @jesssicapaniagua @devilsnightz @esposadomd @littleffawn @mandowhatnow @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @princesslolaasworld @asemkta @cat-or-kitten @txzii @bunnyredgirl @theofficialmadman @leeknows-wife @aria-chikage @amygdtjhddzvb @azriels-mate123 @inky-clover @kemillyfreitas @12358 @justdreamstars @cuethedepession @princessvesta @fides25 @nocasdatsgay @acourtofbatboydreams @stained-glass-eyes0708 @glaciuswduo @wallacewillow0773638 @cassie6392 @quackitysdrugdealer @txzii @anuttellaa @coisas-da-dani @hnyclover @sassyslytherinshai @historygeekqueen @why4anne @mybestfriendmademe @going-through-shit @thisblogisaboutabook @thehighlordishere

[olderthannetfic]

People on fandomsecrets are really mad this week about other people reviewing fanfiction on goodreads and I don't want to litigate whether people should or shouldn't use that website in that manner right now, because the thing I'm actually wound up about is:

when someone asks why, they say "BECAUSE FANFIC ISN'T BOOKS!!!1!1!" as though this is supposed to explain everything, and when asked to elaborate they basically just find ways to say "fanfic, by virtue of being fanfic, is not a book, which is a different thing from fanfic, by virtue of books being books which are not fanfic" in more and more words without adding any coherent information.

Fanfic is a type of story. Books is a type of physical object. In the digital age there are now lots of professional ~official~ works of literature which have never once been published in a physical form. The comparison is meaningless to begin with and also doesn't answer the question.

Is this just a way of ignoring the goodreads thing entirely so they can stealth complain about the Wattpad thing where people used to that site call all stories "books"? Is that what's going on here?

--

Sighhh.

I know some people think Goodreads is for Real Books™, but a hell of a lot of what's on there is trashy romance novels. I myself am an author... of indie selfpub m/m mystery novels that are overtly fandom-adjacent in that BL way. Like most people in that space, I'm mainly focused on ebooks. Why are these things not fic? Well, because we sell them for money and we don't call them fic and because we've done a successful find and replace on the character names.

I think people have trouble articulating why fic is not books because they're used to thinking in terms of content, and they know perfectly well that Goodreads is full of content that might as well be from a fic.

But no, I don't think this is an anti-Wattpad thing at all.

What they're trying and failing to articulate is that fic is not a book by virtue of its author not intending it as one.

Fic authors, or at least ones adhering to a certain kind of AO3 culture, mean their work to be a not-for-profit gift for their fandom community. They often have a horror of it escaping containment to reach the eyeballs of outsiders.

Now, frankly, with the multitude of Goodreads users reviewing original omegaverse mpreg romance novels, I'm not sure that the site actually counts as outsiders, but that's how the people going "Fic is not books!" feel. It's a violation to bring fic there just like it's gross when a talk show host digs up some horny fan art to show to actors so they can have a good laugh at fandom's expense.

[weirdmorefics]

My Birdy Took Flight

A/N- I am aware I really need to write my asks and my Spencer Reid story but I am currently obsessed with Simon Riley okay!

Simon Riley x Sniper Reader

Readers pronouns- She/her

TW- Swearing, falling, injuries, and military inaccuracies but I mean it's COD and they have a zombie game so are going to attack them too? lol

Summary- Who knew the complete off-the-books mission would go off the rails and leave you with the worst rope burns of your life. The injuries however were not the scary part it was having to face Ghost and admit you fell out of the heli.

Word Count- 1991

This mission was completely off the books, asshole Shephard did not care at all that Kate had been taken hostage and would not send reinforcements for help. I've been working with Price and Kate since I was a recruit they are my family. There was no way I was leaving Kate to be killed. The plan was simple enough I stayed in the heli for overwatch while Price, Gaz, and Farah worked their way up the line. Things were going smoothly I've worked with Nik before he is one hell of a pilot. Things however took a turn for the worse an explosive hit the copter and I fucking fell out. I'm sure Nik and Captian thought I died for a moment but I was bloody hanging from the rope. I am lucky my sniper skills are still top-notch when I'm hanging upside down though I would prefer not to test it again. After that hiccup, we recovered Kate and she luckily had no physical injuries.

We returned to base that night and Price insisted I go to the med bay to get checked out. To quote his words, "You look like shit kid, get the hell to med bay before I drag you myself."

The medic rushed to treat me, but something told me that was Price's doing. They wanted to keep me here for observation due to my concussion from the explosion impact. I begged them not to I'd sleep way better in the barracks I hate the sanitary hospital smell, I even prefer the smell of gunpowder. The medic would not take no for an answer I wanted to fight them harder but they said they preferred my anger to Price's wrath. The medic left shortly after and would return sporadically to do random vital checks. At least I knew the concussion wasn't that bad as it didn't beckon me toward the darkness like other times. Though my raw skin kept me from finding any peace I honestly kind of miss the darkness. I spent the night tossing and turning the pain and clinical setting keeping sleep a far distance away from me.

The clock ticking was mocking me as I watched it hit four am. How are hospital settings supposed to help you heal when there is so much beeping and someone always coming into your room? Speaking of which I heard the door creak yet again didn't they just take my vitals ten minutes ago! I can't take this without thinking I launch the flat uncomfortable pillow at what I assumed would be the intern medic yet again only to lock eyes with Ghost looking as shocked as I did.

"That's one hell of a greeting darling," he says in his usual deep voice. My eyes are still wide with shock that I just hit my superior with a pillow but he takes this opportunity to speak again. "Heard you took flight today, Gaz was telling everyone."

I wince at the thought of everyone knowing I failed to hold on during the explosion and try to change the subject to avoid thinking about it, "Aren't you supposed to be on a mission with Soap?"

"Just got back. Johnny and Gaz are out celebrating," he responds.

"They are out celebrating at four am?" I question.

"You know Johnny no one can outdrink the Scott," he says like it's the most obvious thing the world.

"Well, why aren't you out there celebrating with them?"

"My birdy took flight and thought it only decent to check up on her," any other time I would have dwelled on the fact that he said 'my birdy' but he placed his hand on my welted ankle and I could not suppress the groan. His eyes quickly shift to concern and he rips the scratchy hospital blanket off me.

"Ghost!" I shout at him for having the audacity to rip the blanket off me. He has no right to barge in here and act like he's in charge, he may be the boss of me in the field but he is not my doctor and I do not care for showing off my nasty ass wounds to my team members.

He does not acknowledge my shout at him in the slightest instead his full attention is on my rope-burned ankles."What quack treated this," he growled.

"I'm fine," I try to yank my foot out of his grasp but he holds tighter.

"Yeah because the skin falling off your ankle looks spectacular," he says sarcastically.

"Wow you sure know how to treat a girl," I roll my eyes.

"Haven't heard any complaints," he says nonchalantly as if that innuendo wouldn't have Soap applauding.

"Seriously, it's fine. Go celebrate with the team," I assure.

"If you think I am letting you let your ankle get infected you are off your rocker. I am going to need names, sweetheart," he commands.

The nickname glides out of his mouth so easily it's as if he had said it a hundred times. I want to stay as calm and collected as him but I unfortunately stutter, "What names?" God, it's a good thing I'm a sniper and not a spy because I would be dead.

"Of the idiot docs who treated this," he speaks as if it's obvious.

I sigh, "It's not their fault... I didn't tell them. Price only knew about the concussion and I just wanted to get out of here as soon as possible."

"Ah so you're the idiot," he growls.

"Can you not be mean to me I did just fall out of a heli."

"Shut up you lived," he rolls his eyes, gently places my foot down, and turns to leave.

"Please don't take your anger out on the medics," I beg.

"Oh trust me darling I will be taking my anger out on you," he growls yet again.

I shiver, "Where are you going then?"

"To get some medical supplies for your dumbass. No one way I'm letting a medic treat you when you will just lie to them."

"What makes you think I won't lie to you?" I tease well aware that I am in no place to be teasing.

He chuckles an evil kind still it's one of the best I've heard, "Me and you both know you aren't capable of it."

He exits the room and I am unsure if I want to slap him or rip that mask off and kiss him... I am definitely incapable of either. I may be able to beat Soap, Gaz, and even Price on the mat but no one can best Ghost. I, unfortunately, hear him shouting at medics for a damn first aid kit... so much for him taking out his anger on me.

He returns rather quickly but does not speak as he meticulously places the first aid supplies by my bedside.

He pours some alcohol on my rope burn and I hiss loudly, "shit a little warning would be nice."

"You would have just fought harder. Need to clean the debris out who fuckin knows how old that rope was."

"Aw is Ghosty worried about me," I pout.

"Thought I told you and Johnny to stop calling me that, you want me to make this hurt worse than it already does?"

I roll my eyes at him and in response, he presses the gauze harder than necessary. "You asshole!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I can see his wicked smile through his balaclava.

"Yeah sure," I huff. "You know..." I smile mischievously. "This would go a lot faster if you just kissed it better."

"Oh really," I could hear the grin in his voice. I was expecting him to make some snide comment in return instead he finishes wrapping my ankle and lifts his mask to rest on the bridge of his nose.

I am sure my eyes widen to the size of saucers. I feel like a Victorian man seeing a woman's ankle. His grin widens it could only be compared to the Cheshire cat's smile. He gently lifts my ankle to his lips but does not stop there. He places delicate kisses all the way up to my thigh. I think I have officially stopped breathing. Then my heart decides to do the most embarrassing thing ever. It speeds up so atrociously fast that the monitors start beeping incredibly loud. That's it I have officially died there is no coming back my face is melting off from how flushed I am.

Ghost sits back and laughs and I mean properly laughs, I have never seen him like this. "This is a good look on you birdy all red and flustered, all for me too." He pulls his mask back down but I can still see the smile in his eyes.

"Shut up! I am a highly trained sought-after sniper, I don't get flustered!" I feel like that would have sounded better if I didn't stutter each word.

Ghost glances at my heart rate monitor, "Your heart says otherwise."

A medic comes in as the dumb machine won't stop beating, "Are you alright? You're looking quite flushed and your blood pressure is higher than it was when you first came in."

I swear I could see the smugness radiating off Ghost. God I want to strangle him.

"She's fine thanks to me," his eyes squint at me and I know he has a huge grin under that balaclava. He then turns to the medic, "Don't you know the 141 are notorious liars and the worst patients! Next time call me down here as soon as she is being treated."

The poor medic flinches at Ghost's rough voice and can barely whisper, "Yes, sir"

I mouth, 'I'm so sorry," to the medic he looks appreciative.

The medic flees as soon as my blood pressure normalizes. Ghost roughly throws his body onto the uncomfortable hospital chair and groans.

"What are you doing? Shouldn't you be going back to the barracks," I glance as he makes himself comfortable well as comfortable as one can be in a torn hospital chair.

"In a rush to get rid of me birdy?"

"Is that name going to become a thing," I roll my eyes.

"Only for me, if anyone else has the nerve to call you that I'll gut them," he replies.

"Even Johnny?"

"Especially Johnny," He grins.

I smile, "Seriously Ghost you should go sleep in your own bed that chair cannot be comfortable. I'd be in my bed if they would let me escape."

"I know you can't stand hospitals, I won't let you be sleepless and cranky alone."

"Fine, then at least share the bed with me, I forbid you from sleeping on that fifty-year-old chair."

"The fact that you think you can forbid me from doing anything sweetheart is laughable. Are you sure you want me to be over there might make your heart monitor scream again?" He makes his way over to the bed despite his words.

I roll my eyes, "I'll manage."

He lays on the small hospital bed and takes up ninety percent of it but I don't mind it because it doesn't smell like hand sanitizer and blood anymore it smells like him.

"Goodnight birdy," he kisses the top of my head and my heartrate monitor instantly starts beeping annoyingly again.

"Goddammit," I groan and he just laughs.

"You would make a terrible spy with all those emotions, you're lucky the red face works on you." he chuckles.

"You're just jealous of my amazing sniping abilities you must point out my flaws," I poke his chest.

"You ain't got no flaws birdy except the fact that you're stubborn as hell. Now go to sleep before I knock you out myself."

"Yes LT.," I fake salute him and he rolls his eyes.

Sleep comes so much faster in the med bay when you aren't alone, I wish falling asleep would always be this easy.

[tomuras]

| Angel |

Pairing: Sunday x Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Selfship Coded, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Reader has asthma, Asthma Attack, Angst, Gender Neutral Reader, No pronouns for reader, He/Him for Sunday, 600 ish words.

A/n: Just a little something I wrote for myself <3

Summary: Sunday wakes up and finds out you’re having an asthma attack.

Tags: @auphelia @suyacho @themovingcastlez @tighnarly

It had been a bad, long morning. Thankfully, Sunday was there to make everything better, or at least try to. He’d woken up to find you upright on the couch, hugging your body as you tried to soothe yourself into a more relaxing state. When your eyes locked onto his slowly approaching form you tried your best attempt at a smile, and opened your mouth to greet him, but instead of words there were fits of coughs.

“Feeling unwell?” He asked, taking a seat beside you.

You nodded and smiled weakly.

He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close to him. “What’s wrong?” He questioned.

You took a deep breath and tapped the center of your chest as you tried to explain, wheezing out your words in between coughs. Quickly you took notice of how Sunday’s eyes went from relaxed to a widened expression.

“Stay there and stop talking.”

You looked at him confused as he moved to grab something from the room. It wasn’t until he came back with your emergency inhaler that the realization hit you. Oh, right.. that. He brought the inhaler to your mouth and waited until you pressed your lips to the opening before pressing down on it and activating the medicine.

“You’re having an asthma attack.” He explained, watching as you held your breath for a few moments before exhaling.

He waited at least ten minutes before he opened up his arms to welcome you onto his lap, looking at you with a concerned expression and a small, yet sad smile. You took a moment to take a few deep breaths before climbing onto his lap, steadying yourself as you did so as to get into the most comfortable position. Once you’d gotten comfy you curled up against his chest, clinging to his pajama top as he started petting your hair. For the first few minutes it was silent except for Sunday’s and your breathing.

“Why didn’t you come get me? I would’ve wanted to help.” He spoke calmly for someone who was admittedly scared by what had just happened.

You thought about your next words carefully. “I didn’t know what was happening an’ didn’t wanna bother you.”

Sunday was not pleased with your answer, no matter how honest and good natured it was. No, in fact it deeply disturbed him. What would you have done if he hadn’t been there to save you? What would he have done if he failed to protect you? Oh god. Sunday didn’t want to even entertain that thought, it upset him far too much. He wasn’t sure he could live with himself had the worst happened.

“You need to be more careful. Something could’ve happened, you could’ve gotten hurt, or worse.” His voice slightly rose as his words trembled from his lips.

Immediately you felt ashamed. You knew how Sunday was and still you insisted on doing it your way. You were so reckless sometimes, so much so that you worried about the responsibility it put on Sunday.

“I’m sorry.. I didn’t mean to cause any problems.” You confessed quietly, playing with the fabric of his shirt by pressing it in between the pads of your fingers.

Sunday sighed and gave your body a gentle squeeze. “It’s alright. Just be careful. Please? For me?“

You nuzzled your head against his chest and smiled. “Thank you, Sunday.”

He pulled back his head far enough so that he could get a better look at you. “What’s the sudden praise for?”

You smiled and wrapped your arms around him, giving him a tight hug. “For everything.”

He hummed and stroked your cheek. “You really are something special.”

Regardless of everything, he was truly at home with you. There was no better company than yours.

[junorsky]

You use procreate right? I'm a beginner in coloring. And your lighting and color is always so good. If you had like steps/tutorial/tips on coloring/lighting in procreate. I would pay for it even. It's hard to find a good tutorial on YouTube for procreate users, and the style that you do which is similar to the coloring style I've been trying to self teach myself for a while and failing. Anyways sorry if this is a weird ask, but I would honestly really appreciate it

One speedpaint coming right up!

Nothing weird about this question. Honestly, I struggle a lot as well, but my problem is the shape, not the colors. I suppose I can "feel" colors, that's why impressionists are my favourite (classics always help!)

I don't know if I can help with using procreate, because I'm not really savvy with it, I always use photoshop for more complex work as it is perfect for twicking lighting, changing tint etc. I prefer to sketch in procreate, because, a) it has many great default brushes, b) my back hurts from sitting on my pc, c) I can go anywhere, draw and immediately post it.

I’ll try to summarise what I figured out with procreate, and maybe give a few tips. But I don’t know if that’s the best way to use this tool. I’m just… winging it, haha

First, if you struggle with colors, look up the color circle

It shows exactly which color goes best with which. For example, if you use Orange for your lighting, and Blue for your shadows, it’ll look nice. Perfect, even. I love that one. Avoid using pure black for shadows, otherwise you risk to make it too… burned? Like, dirty. Be careful with Black magic.

I’ll use Zevlor here to show how it works.

In addition, you can use the opposite color to make the character stand out. It’s really important. What’s more noticeable, red on brown or blue on brown?

Also, learn to use masks. Really, they may be scary, but it saves SO MUCH time. Specifically with procreate, I always use them now for everything because I haven’t found the better way to avoid fixing the stray lines. With that solution, you'll need to correct only one layer at the start, the main one. Clipping masks are great to help with that, but procreate is a little uncomfortable in that regard. I’ll show what I do, perhaps it’ll make things clearer

Those are the most useful things to know, I think. Masks can be used in photoshop in the same way, I have a bad habit of creating too many of them so it's crouded. And they rarely have a name. I'm too lazy to name them all

Anyway, I hope I managed to answer at least one of your questions... or not X) I tried. Good luck with exploring Procreate!

[tiredlilguy]

" Is This... Ok?"|DILFTOBER W4

lost? main masterlist. / dilftober masterlist. / PM masterlist.

a/n: SO SORRY FOR THE DELAYYYY!!! It's been a crazy busy week, and I haven't had time to just sit down at a cafe and just... write TT-TT On top of that, I was really brain dead like all last week, so Saturday I couldn't find myself sitting at my computer. I had to lay down for a while... to be honest I needed the rest. Anyways, ENJOYYY THIS HOT REDHEAD I LOVE HIM >:D this is also on A03! :O

pairing: Oda Sakunosuke X GN!Reader cw: NSFW 18+ (if you are a minor, you will be blocked), proofread, but there may be some mistakes desc: with a small talk over dinner (and with much thought), you decided to allow your boyfriend to take you v card. ~~ kink this week: virginity loss

A warm hand slid under your shirt, making you shiver at the touch.

Oda’s hands were… rough, but at the same time, they were also quite gentle. That tenderness never failed to make you melt, the blush on your face only getting worse.

“ Is this… ok?” Oda’s eyes looked down at you with concern. Well, his usual blank expression stayed the same, but his eyes spoke his true emotions.

You lightly nodded, placing your hand over his to reassure him that you were okay. You looked up at him with sultry eyes and god damn, he was so hot.

The tired eyes looking back at you, the stubble, the messy bedhead, the calloused roughness of his hands combined with his gentle touch.

It never failed to make you fold over, eyes hazy with a clouded mind as you got lost in his eyes.

But then again… How did you get here?

…

You and your boyfriend were sitting across from each other at the kitchen counter in his apartment after a long day of work. There wasn’t anything particularly on your mind as you both ate curry across from each other with the television playing as background noise. Oda never exchanged many words with you around this time, enjoying the shared silence between the both of you. However, as he looked over at the TV, his other hand moved to slide under yours, intertwining your fingers with his with your palm facing down. His thumb trailed over yours as he let out a sigh, placing his spoon off to the side and swallowing the food that was in his mouth.

“ Oda…,” you called out, placing your utensil down and leaning your cheek over your other hand.

“ Mm…,” he only responded with a hum, his eyes still fixated on the illuminated screen.

You hesitated for a second, a certain question on your mind, but relaxed as his thumb swiped over your hand again. You continued,” I got a question to ask you.”

Oda hummed once more, his focus wasn’t towards you, but you could tell he perked up as you spoke to him. You knew he was listening at least. He picked up the beer can that was beside his plate and took a sip.

“ Have you ever had sex before?”

The alcohol that was just about to go down his throat was spat out back into the can immediately as Oda was about to gag on his drink. He beat his chest in an attempt to stop choking, eventually being able to clear his throat.

His voice was a little shaky, as he sighed,” Quite the question.”

“ Well?” you smirked up at him, finding his reaction to your question entertaining.

“ Well… yes, I have,” he answered, a light blush dusting his cheeks,” Though, it wasn’t anything other than just a one-night stand or… no hard feelings attached I guess. Why do you ask?”

You hummed as he answered your question,” Hm… I only ask because I haven’t before.”

Oda nodded, placing the beer can down,” Am I your first love then?”

Shaking your head, your gaze moved down to your empty plate with a blush,” No actually… I’ve never actually gotten to that stage yet, maybe just out of fear or something, but I’d been thinking about it for a while and…”

His rust-red eyes looked over at you, a hint of curiosity and excitement swirling in them.

“ I think I’m ready,” you blurted out nervously. You were unaware of your hand that gripped onto his tighter. He returned that pressure calmly, his thumb running over the skin of your hand.

“ Hey, relax,” he reassured you, rough voice bringing you out of your thoughts as he smiled at you,” It’s ok, don’t worry… I’ll take good care of you.”

You only nodded. The two of you silently agreed, cleaning up after yourselves and placing the dishes in the sink with a certain tension.

…

You followed him into the bedroom, his hand holding yours as you both walked over. All the while, your mind was a little flooded, asking yourself whether you should even be doing this. However, that all went out the window when Oda opened the door to the bedroom, walking over to the bed to sit you both down.

“ I just wanna make sure…,” his other hand moved a strand of hair out of your face,” You’re okay with this?”

You nodded, less shy than you usually have before,” Yes… I want to do this with you. I trust you, Oda.”

“ Hm…,” Oda hummed under his breath as he moved his face closer to yours,” You’re very pretty like this…”

“ Then come kiss me,” a small smirk formed on your lips.

Oda wasted no time, moving his lips on top of yours in a sweet kiss. You kissed back, hand moving around his back as he moved to your waist. The tension in your shoulders and back seemed to go away as you kissed him. You could… relax for once: the trail of thoughts running through your brain started to go away. Kissing him was relieving, you felt as though you didn’t have to think about anything else. His thumbs caressed your waist, sending a shiver up your spine as he kissed you deeper. You relaxed in his cold, as his hands gently placed you down on the bed.

However, the motion makes you jump slightly, causing Oda to stop. He did so, lips moving away from yours as he looked down at you with concern. His hand moved to your cheek, trying to make you comfortable.

“ Hey… you’re ok,” he spoke softly,” Did you want to stop? I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“ N-no… I uhm,” you played with your fingers nervously,” I’m just not used to it. I don’t really know what to do, I guess. Or think about…”

“ I see,” he leaned over you, mouth to whisper in your ear,” How about you just focus on me…? Don’t think about anything else, just focus on what I’m doing to you.”

As he continued to speak, one of his hands caressed your side again.

“ Focus on how you feel, love… How does this feel, hm?”

“ G-good…,” you stuttered with a small gasp.

His hot breath trailed down to your neck, nuzzling his nose under your chin. You felt his knee come in between your legs as he left a small kiss on your neck.

“ You still ok?” he asked, wanting to make sure you were comfortable.

You nodded, letting go of your hands and placing them down on the bed,” I just feel a little hot, I-I guess.”

“ Good,” he smirked, licking a stripe up the side of your neck.

“ Is that good?” you shivered at his actions but tried to relax again.

“ You’re supposed to feel a little hot, sweetheart. Don’t think too much, ok?”

You only nodded in response, letting his continue to touch you: moving to your sides to your shirt to lift it up slightly. He was enjoying taking his time with you, seeing you squirm under his touch. It was cute… watching your eyes become more clouded with lust the more he touched you. One of his hands hooked under your shirt, pushing it up slightly. You lifted your waist, letting him push it up further and eventually helping you out of it: a small hiss came out of your mouth as you felt the cold in the room. However, that feeling was quickly gone as you felt his hands around your waist.

“ So pretty,” he leaned down, placing a kiss on and around your stomach,” So beautiful.”

“ O-Oda,” a soft moan left your mouth as you reacted to his kisses.

“ You’re so beautiful like this, love,” Oda praised, looking up at you with desperate eyes,” Will you let me touch you?”

You nodded again: that heated feeling filling you with desire. You had no idea what he was going to do to you, but you trusted him… and if anything, you almost felt as though you were begging for him to touch you.

Calloused fingers ran down to your pants, hooking over them and tugging them down cautiously. You let out a small yelp, arching your back in nervousness.

“ Shh… my love, you’re ok,” he reassured again, moving up to kiss your forehead. You closed your eyes, scrunching your nose as he did so. His lips moved to kiss your cheek, your nose, and eventually another one of your lips.

“ I’m just gonna take off your pants and underwear, ‘k?” Oda reassured you, before kissing your jaw and moving back down.

Both of his hands tugged the waistband off your hips.

“ Up,” he gently commanded to you. You did so, lifting your hips up so he could easily slide them off of you.

You felt shy, moving your legs together so that you could somewhat hide yourself. Oda frowned, a hand moving to your knee.

“ Don’t be shy,” his voice was like honey in your ears,” Open your legs for me, love.”

You took a second, letting out a breath of air before opening your legs. Oda smiled.

“ So pretty.”

“ Oda… mm,” you whined, a cute pout moving to your face.

“ What is it, love?” he looked at you.

“ Touch me,” you said pleadingly,” P-please…”

“ Ok, love,” he softly laughed,” Sorry, just got caught up in you… You’re beautiful>”

He scooted down, warm hand cupping your side as his other met your hole: at first dipping a finger in. You whimpered once again but relaxed soon after.

“ Is this… ok?” Oda looked up at you, a blush dusting his cheeks.

“ Feels good, Oda,” you muttered, the blush on your face getting redder.

Oda watched as he took his time, dipping a finger into you. You let out a moan as he did so, feeling slightly embarrassed at the noise that came out of your mouth. However, before you knew it, your mind was clouded as he fully inserted his finger.

“ G-gah… Oda,” you moaned, writhing under his touch as he moved his fingers inside your hole: touching your gummy and tight walls. You felt that heat in your stomach get warmer as he did so, fingers dipping further into you. Before you knew it, another inserted itself inside you.

“ Ngh-hah!,” you jumped, moaning a little louder this time. The hand on your hip held you down though, making it harder for you to move.

“ Hm? Does my baby feel good?” he moved down to your ear, licking up the shell. His actions made you shiver once more.

“ Y-yeah,” another moan slipped out of your mouth.

He curled his finger into your hole, making you arch again. The heat only getting harder to hold in. You felt your release coming up.

“ Mm!,” you shifted,” Hah- I… I-“

You released onto his fingers without warning: your liquids spewing out onto yourself and his fingers. Your hands moved to cover your face, wanting to hide yourself once again.

“ S-sorry! Shit- I-I couldn’t hold it in,” you apologized desperately.

“ That was hot,” he commented, before moving down to kiss your stomach once more.

After releasing, the more he touched you, the more sensitive you felt. You couldn’t stop yourself from shaking at his feather-like touch.

Oda’s other hand moved to your wrists, moving them out of your face.

“ Don’t be shy, my love,” he whispered again,” It’s just me.”

“ O-ok,” you placed your hands down at your sides.

Oda let you relax for a moment… Well, it was really just a moment, until you felt his tongue dip down to your stomach, getting closer to your core.

“ F-fuck-! Hah,” you arched your back at his sudden again. You looked down, noticing him stick his tongue out closer to your core.

“ ‘M a little hungry… I’ll have my dessert.”

[also if you want, please consider getting me a coffee or commissioning me ;) no pressure ofc!!! i understand that we're all in different circumstances/situations, any support of any kind is appreciated <3]

[lavendertales]

dark times || Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: the night you find Joel in a questionable state, to say the least, is the night a confession leaves your lips. A confession that both uplifts and shocks Joel.

word count: 1.6k

warnings: use of alcohol & pills (as depicted in the show); mentions of depression, loss, suicide; established relationship and a lot of fluff for all intents and purposes.

A/N: comments & reblogs are always appreciated! ❤️

It’s not unusual for Joel’s house to be this somber: lights almost turned off completely and utter silence. On nights when he’s perkier he might play around with his guitar, but tonight it seems it’s not the case.

You haven’t seen him almost all day.

The fugitive glimpses you’ve caught of him throughout the day have not been enough. Since you haven’t gotten the chance to talk to him, you simply assumed he was having an off day. On those days, you came to understand that, more often than not, he needed space.

But it’s well past midnight and you have an annoying pit in your stomach, an ugly feeling that won’t cease pestering you. It can’t hurt checking up on him, right?

You let yourself into the house, gently closing the door behind you. The wooden floor screeches beneath you ever so slightly, indirectly announcing your presence there.

“Joel?” you say, barely loud enough to be heard. “It’s me, I let myself in. Are you still awake?”

You see the light coming from the bedroom as you reach the end of the stairs, so you figure he’s either sleeping or just wallowing in self-pity. Again, not unusual. You peep through the door, noticing Joel curled up on the bed, still in his day clothes. As you approach, you notice how disheveled he looks in his green flannel and jeans and big, dirty boots.

“Joel, hey,” you say, gently nudging his arm. “It’s me, hi.”

You keep nudging him, but no response from his side. Perhaps he had one too many glasses of whiskey and he’s finally sleeping properly.

“Joel?”

You start to lose some of your patience and nudge him harder, but still no response. You call out his name, a rush of panic spreading throughout your body. Something tells you to check his pulse; he barely has one.

“Joel, come on, don’t do this,” you quip. “Joel, I swear to God—get up. Now.”

Soon, all words flee from your mind and the only one you can say, on a desperate loop as you try to bring some life into the body by shaking it, is Joel.

Joel. The only man you’ve ever loved.

You fail to realize when tears began to stream down your cheeks, hot and filled with an impossible ache, but you couldn’t care less, not now. You cup his face with your palms, examining every freckle, every eyelash, every portion of skin you can register.

“Joel, don’t you fucking dare do this,” you whisper. “Don’t—don’t you fucking do this to us, I swear I’m—Joel!”

Then suddenly, a mumble makes your eyes shoot wide open, staring down at the face beneath. Joel opens his eyes, trying to get a hold of the surroundings. Then he stammers your name, and you sigh in relief.

“I thought—what the hell happened?”

“Uh—“

He’s clearly not fully awake yet, so you finally scan the bedroom and notice the empty whiskey bottle on the nightstand, as well as a small plate. Then it dawns on you.

“What did you take?”

“Some—pills. And whiskey.”

“I gathered as much. I meant, what pills did you take?”

Joel rubs his temples. “Dunno. Didn’t ask.”

That’s when you finally lose whatever shred of patience you had. The anger you feel is searing hot and white, and you are unable to control it, seeing as how you swiftly stand up, eager to get as far away from Joel as possible.

“So what was the plan?” you whisper through gritted teeth. “Mix alcohol and pills and just… never wake up?”

Joel barely blinks, avoiding your eyes, and the answer becomes crystal clear. It awakens a rage inside of you that you weren’t even aware you could feel.

“You know what? Fuck you, Miller. Fuck you and your selfish, self-destructive wishes. I don’t need this.”

Joel calls out your name, coarse and yet soft, but you pay no attention.

“I don’t need to be adding your death to my list of concerns!” you snap. “I really don’t! I’ve got enough shit to deal with as it is, and worrying whether you’re still breathing or not is not there, it should not—it shouldn’t be there! So fuck you! Fuck you for making me fall in love with you and then making me worry about you! You and Ellie… how the fuck can you think to do this?!”

“You—you what?”

“How can you think to do such a thing when you’ve got people around you who care about you?! Ellie, Tommy, Maria… me! Fucking—me, loving you day after day, night after night, and never getting easier because—“

Your chest is heaving, filled with heavy breaths. Your eyes are teary and your heart—oh, how it aches at the thought of losing this troubled man. It aches for him, incessantly so, and tonight is nothing if not a testimony to your accidentally spilled feelings.

It is now, in the aftermath of your anger, that you come to acknowledge you haven’t said the L word before, and that this is a huge deal for someone like Joel.

But he doesn’t say anything, and neither do you; you simply stare at each other, hearts breaking and aching for each other simultaneously. You’re the one who decides to break the silence.

“Do what you want, Joel.” There’s defeat in your voice, as well as in your eyes. It breaks Joel too in unexpected ways, but he finds his body too heavy to react properly. He can only look at you regretfully. “I can’t tell you what to do. But I thought…”

You pause simply to catch your breath, only now realizing how hard you’ve been breathing and how much this scenario has been weighing on you.

“I just thought the life we get to start over here in Jackson would provide some sort of comfort,” you finish saying, wiping your cheeks. “I really thought you might be okay, or if you weren’t, that you’d talk to me or Tommy.”

Joel coos your name, struggling to stand from the bed, but you put your hands up in some sort of defense.

“Do what you want, Joel.”

You do feel some form of regret as you exit the house, still crying. Guilt slowly overwhelms you for not asking what was wrong instead of lashing out like that, but the truth of the matter is, you panicked. The thought of losing Joel like that was too much to bear, and seeing him in that awful state, probably drowning in his own thoughts and pain, it was shocking and debilitating.

For both of you, yet in different ways.

You hear your name being called out in the distance, yet you do not turn around. Although you want to see him, to look at him and admire the liveliness in his face, you also don’t want to see the pain residing behind his eyes, the hollowness of them.

“It’s her birthday today.”

You stop, the information sinking in.

“Was,” Joel corrects himself as he approaches you, clearing his throat. “Today was her birthday. Every year, it fucking sucks. I always try to forget, to leave it behind. It never works. I always wake up somehow… and I always remember.”

Your face softens, turning to meet with this face. When you do, you see the devastation smeared all over it, the troubling ache and the desperate need to fix the situation, and you sigh involuntarily. You know Joel used to be a contractor in his former life, and so he’s used to building and fixing with his own hands.

The inability to fix the worst pain of his life must be the most troublesome feeling.

“I’m sorry,” it’s all you can muster. “It must be unbearable.”

“It wasn’t intentional. I just thought I’d… numb myself, and then I’d wake up. Guess I did.”

You fear you sense regret in his voice, but you don’t express your concern. Joel, however, inches even closer and shyly reaches for your hand, lightly stroking the back of your hand.

“I don’t want you thinkin’ I’m ungrateful for the life I have now,” he mumbles apologetically. “You and Tommy and Ellie, and even Maria… you’ve given me a new purpose.”

“I’m sorry I was so harsh. I—I panicked.”

Tears threaten to flood your eyes again and you take a big breath in while Joel holds both your hands now.

“I saw you there unconscious and… I just…”

He pulls you in for a hug, and you finally exhale, buried in his chest.

“I just want you around for as long as possible,” you whisper. “It’s selfish, I know, but—“

“Love is selfish, I guess. That makes me selfish too.”

Eyes widened, you remove yourself from his chest to stare incredulously at him. But Joel’s face no longer seems wrecked—not to that extreme degree, at least. He seems confident in his words, whereas you probably look like you’re doubting everything you’ve ever heard.

“Did you just say—?”

Joel’s lips stretch in the slightest, revealing the beginning of a shy, small smile, and your heart flutters.

“Maybe I should’ve said something sooner,” he coos. “Thought it was obvious.”

You scoff, still unable to believe. “I do,” Joel continues. “I really do. It’s not… easy for me to say, not always. Never thought I’d say the words, ever again, but… here you are.”

“I don’t want you saying anything just because I accidentally said them.”

“Accidentally?”

“Well… I didn’t plan on saying that I love you under these circumstances or that I’d blurt them out like that, but… here you are.”

Joel chuckles, the sound so easygoing and saccharine it weakens your knees.

“That’s okay,” he replies, his mouth curling softly into a smile. “I have a better memory now for this day.”