#Pose: Fly-Into-The-Sunset

[starrayblogs]

Not So Rock-Hearted || Floyd (Trolls) x Reader

a/n: yea... yea this is definitely just gonna be a silly fic so don't expect too much! anyway, have a fun read c: likes and reblogs are appreciated hehe

✩ previous chapter

i. Harmony So New

“Ugh… I know we’re all supposed to live in, like, harmony now, but I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the glitter…” Barb groans, referring to Debbie being covered in glitter again.

You chuckled, setting your guitar down by the couch. “You got invited to another party?”

Barb hums, reading the envelope before saying a soft ‘huh’. “Actually, this is for you. From former King Peppy, it says, " She says, handing the envelope to you. “Kinda weird if you ask me…”

You furrow your brows, taking it from her and ripping the paper to read the letter. As you read the content of the letter, you gasp. You read over the sentence again with wide eyes before placing a hand over your mouth.

“What? What is it? What did he say?” Barb asks, looking over the paper and attempt to read it upside down.

You pull it away and smile happily at Barb. “You remember my best friend that I told you I thought was taken away?”

“Yeah?”

“She’s alive!” You exclaim, posing with rockstar hands in the air with a grin. Barb stammers before making a quick ‘yeah!’ and striking the same pose.

“That’s great! Where’d they find her?” Barb asks, breaking from the pose to point at your letter on the floor.

“The letter said that I should just go to the location on the postcard to meet her…” You reply, pulling out a postcard for ‘Vacay Island’ from the envelope. “Haven’t seen this place.” You say looking at the picture.

“Think I’ve seen that sunset before… C’mon, I’ll get ya a ride.” Barb punches your shoulder and you smirk.

“Sunsets happen all the time, of course, you’ve seen that sunset before.” You remark.

“What the…” You mumble on the back of the motor, looking at the postcard to the identical sunset with the ‘Wish You Were Here’ even in the air.

“Told ya I’ve seen that sunset before!” Barb yells from in front of you as she drives to the cliff's edge at top speed.

You two cheer as you fly through the air and successfully land on the sand, continuing your drive up to this cantina.

“This where they told you to come?” Barb asks, parking the bike and removing her helmet. You remove yours too and set it on the seat.

“Yup.” You say, but you stop in your place and stare into the entrance of the cantina. You can hear singing, and you can deduce that the pop trolls are doing that.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Barb places a hand on your arm.

“I… What if she doesn’t remember me? Viva, I mean. Like, I- It’s been years since we last saw each other!” You doubt this possible reunion and take a step back. “What if I was left behind in her memory too..?” You mumble, looking down and cupping your hands.

“Hey, hey. Don’t say stuff like that, dude.” Barb reassures you, patting both your arms. “You two were best friends, right? Who’d forget a cool best friend like you? C’mon, have you seen me gettin’ amnesia about you?” She chuckles, and you let out a huffed laugh.

You raise your head with a small smile. “You’re right…”

“Let’s get in and let’s find your friend! I smell nachos, so we should get some too.” Barb lets go of your arms and casually walks forward. You watch her back for a bit before running up to her pace, entering the cantina together.

As you walk through the cantina filled with giant vacaytioners partying in the water, you hear a shriek.

“Viva! Viva, get up here! We’re in the baaaand!” Your eyes soften at the sound of someone else calling her name. Your eyes meet Barb’s before you two hurriedly try to get closer to the stage.

Another pop song plays by the time you reach the stage. There she is.

Your eyes water and your lips tremble, but you smile. “Oh my gosh, Barb, it’s her!” You excitedly point at your childhood best friend before placing your hands over your chest in relief.

“Crazy cool hair she’s got.” Barb gives a nod of approval.

You watch her perform with Queen Poppy and Branch, along with four other trolls you don’t remember seeing at the World Tour. They look related to Branch, considering they have the same skin color. Aside from that, one of them has dark green hair, the other has bright green, one of them has purple hair, and-

“Hey, I like that pink guy’s hair.” Barb comments when you reach the unfamiliar troll with pink hair in your head.

“Yeah, he kinda looks like us…” You comment. Actually, he looks a bit like cotton candy.

“But soft… Soft rock?” Barb turns to you confused.

“Is that a thing?” You raise a brow before you two shrug together. Your eyes go back to Viva as she and the others continue to perform.

When they strike a pose, the music stops, and the other trolls cheer. You watch her hug Queen Poppy, squealing with joy.

“That was so fantastamazing!” She laughs, giving Queen Poppy a tight hug.

Barb nudges you and then nods her head to Viva. You press your lips into a line nervously.

“You got this…” Barb whispers, patting a hand on your arm. “You weren’t left behind, I’m sure of it.”

Your eyes soften, and you smile at Barb. You look back at the stage and inhale deeply before stepping closer to the platform.

“Viva?” You call her name. She hears your voice and looks your way, setting Queen Poppy down.

“Oh my gosh, I have a fan already! This really is my dream life!” Viva squeals, rushing up to you and waving. “Hi, I can totally sign my autograph!”

Your chest tightens a bit when she doesn’t recognize you right away, but you keep up your smile. “Ah… Well, you could put it like that… But, Viva, don’t you remember me?”

“Huh?” She tilts her head with a raised brow. The other trolls on the stage are huddling and whispering to each other in your foresight.

“It’s me, Viva… Viva la amigas..?” You utter the phrase you two would tell each other as kids. She gasps, placing her hands over her mouth. Your eyes brighten, and your lips crack into a smile. She remembers.

“It’s you…” She says, reaching her hands out to you. She echoes your name when you interlock fingers. She squeals and pulls you up to the stage unexpectedly, squeezing you tightly in a hug. “It’s you! I thought I lost you too!”

You grin and hug her back, just as tight. “Viva, I can’t believe you’re alive!”

“I can’t believe you’re here! A-and, you look so..!” She sets you down and waves her hands up and down to refer to your appearance. “I don’t even recognize you!”

You chuckle and flip your hair. The rock trolls really did give you a makeover. Your hair’s more messy, and it’s two-toned. You highlighted your hair with your favorite color to give your natural hair some color. Your fashion is way different from the pop style; you’ve got more wear, tear, and spikes. You wear smokey eyeshadow, eyeliner, and mascara just like Barb taught you. You got a few piercings too. Yet you never really did anything with your vibrant skin, so you always stood out in a crowd of desaturated rock trolls.

“You look so cool!” Viva comments, and you laugh.

“Oh, stop, look at you! You look amazing, I love your hair!” You motion to it, and she giggles.

Queen Poppy approaches from behind Viva. “Uhh, do you know her Viva?” She asks.

“Oh, Poppy!” Viva says, stepping away from Poppy to wrap an arm around you. “This is my childhood best friend! I didn’t think she’d be here!”

“Oh!” The Queen says, surprised. “Well, hello! You already know who I am, but I’m Viva’s sis-”

“Sister? Yeah, I know. Veev told me all about you when we were kids, Queen Poppy.” You smirk.

She blinks and giggles, flicking a wrist at you. “A friend of Viva is a friend of mine! You can call me Poppy.” She says.

You smile and nod your head.

“Anyway, why are you here? I don’t remember sending invitations to the other trolls.” Poppy asks.

“Your father sent me an invite. I came as soon as I read it.” You explain. “Barb’s with me too.” You turn your head to where Barb should be but find her nowhere. Until you hear her rock’n’roll cry somewhere, and you see her munching on nachos.

“We have so much catching up to do! I can’t wait to go back home and talk to you all day again.” Viva says with a smile, but you frown. You take a step away.

“I… Viva, we have different homes now. I don’t live in Pop Village anymore.” You tell her, even motioning to yourself. “It’s not my home.”

“What…” Viva frowns. “But then, where do you stay?”

“I stay in Volcano Rock City. Barb took me in, and she made me one of her own, and I can’t thank her enough for it.” You smile gratefully, but you step forward to take Viva’s hand in yours.

“But how will we make candy necklaces we’ll never finish because we keep eating the candy..?”

“I’ll visit every weekend… I promise we’ll have enough time to catch up.” You reassure her, patting her hands in yours.

She looks at your conjoined hands for a moment before nodding her head. “Okay… I’ll see you every weekend.” She surprises you by pulling you into a hug again. “I’m just so happy to see you again.”

“Me too, amiga. Me too.” You hug her back.

“So… Are we expecting any other reunion?” The troll with dark green hair breaks the moment.

“Yeah, it’s like reunion season.” The one with purple hair adds. You and Viva slowly pull away from the hug.

“There are different kinds of trolls?” The one with bright green hair asks. You let out a small hum, crossing your arms.

“Yeah. There are loads of other trolls.” You comment.

“And you are a..?” The pink hair drags out his sentence for you to answer.

“I’m a rock troll.” You demonstrate by pulling your guitar to the front and playing a sick riff. “You,” you motion the headstock to the rest of them, “are pop trolls.” You smirk, placing your guitar back and introducing yourself.

The others follow. The dark green hair is John Dory, or you can call him JD; the light green hair is Clay; the purple hair is Bruce; and the pink hair is Floyd. Branch follows by introducing that these are his brothers. You hum in thought.

“Sick hair, Floyd. Ruffle it up, and you might just look like me.” You smirk, crossing your arms. His eye widens, and there’s a shy smile on his face.

“Thank you…” Your lashes flutter for a moment, surprised by how gentle his voice is.

“Man! You look so cool, I can’t believe Dad hid another secret from me! Other trolls, other music?” Viva throws her hands in the air before placing them on her hips, catching your attention. “I am so telling him off again later.”

You chuckle. “I wish I could stick around for it.”

Viva giggles and starts to drag you to the bar where Barb is eating nachos, passing by that pink-haired troll with his eye on you.

✩ next chapter

[multiplicity-positivity]

Here’s some positivity for systems who are struggling with suicidal ideation!

It is a very unfortunate truth that many systems are at risk of suicide and actively deal with suicidal ideation. Suicidal ideation poses a serious threat to many systems, and prevents lots of folks from leading happy, healthy lives. As a fellow struggling system, we are so sorry to say that we don’t have all the answers for you. We don’t know what specifically can help your system heal, give you hope, or find the strength to not only survive, but flourish and thrive. But we can encourage you to keep going, and reassure you that you’re not as alone as you may feel.

To those who have been suicidal for many years now…

We know firsthand how exhausting and soul-crushing this can be. We hope that you can find brief moments of reprieve, and find small things in your life that can bring a smile to your face. Changing your mindset is not easy, especially when it feels like the world is working against you. We hope that soon you can feel a cool summer breeze, listen to birdsong, witness a spectacular sunset, take a deep breath, and exist in the moment, as you are. You deserve to live. You deserve to, not only survive, but flourish and thrive as you are.

To those who are looking for a reason to stay alive…

Let this be it. Stay alive for your headmates, even if you struggle to get along. Stay alive for the sillies, to be cringe, to learn who you are and take steps towards living your life authentically. Stay alive for change, because what comes next in your life may not be better, but it will definitely be different. Stay alive for just one more day, then another, then another after that. Sometimes surviving from day-to-day can be a significant challenge, but we know that you are up to the task.

To those who have been keeping their suicidal ideation a secret…

Please, if there’s someone in your life who loves you, please reach out. Your loved ones want you around, they want you to be happy and healthy, and they may not even know you are struggling this much. If you genuinely can’t think of anyone who cares about you, guess what? We do. We care about you and more than anything we want you to live. Whether or not we share the plural community, no matter where your path takes you or where you end up, your existence means everything to us. Please keep going. Please don’t give up.

To those who feel worthless and hopeless all the time…

You don’t have to accomplish any great things in order for your life to have value. In fact, by simply surviving and trying to reclaim joy in your life, you are accomplishing a major feat of resistance, resilience, and renewal! Your life and the lives of your headmates have inherent worth just the way it is - you don’t have to change anything about yourselves in order to be valued, cherished, loved, and respected. And this means valuing, cherishing, loving, and respecting yourselves! We are so immensely proud of you for how far you’ve come, for not giving up, for taking things one day, one step, one moment at a time.

To those who feel trapped by their circumstances, by their history, by their own shortcomings…

There is nothing stagnant about life, and this includes your own! You won’t always feel trapped this way. One day you will be able to escape your abusive home life, your oppressive workplace, bullies, groomers, heartbreak, loneliness, isolation, or whatever has you pinned down. One day you will be able to start processing and healing from your trauma or your painful past. One day you will be able to recognize your shortcomings as strengths, as neutral, as a part of you, as something worth salvaging, embracing, or accepting. One day you will be able to spread your wings and fly again, and trust us, when that moment comes, it will feel amazing!

To any system who has ever felt suicidal anywhere, at any point in their lives…

The fact that you are still here is huge and is something worth celebrating! We truly admire your tenacity, your strength, your perseverance, your defiance, and your fight to go on, despite life’s challenges. We truly hope that life gets easier for you, and you are afforded a softness and gentleness that comes with rest, comfort, and joy. We wish for you unconditional love and self-acceptance. We wish for you hearty meals, laughter, intimacy, and a sense of pride and accomplishment in how far you’ve come. We wish for you the chance to slow down and catch your breath. We wish for you a moment to revel in the beauty of nature. We wish for you happiness, contentedness, and hope, always and forever.

Suicidal systems, we know that one post on Tumblr isn’t likely going to change your mindset or how bleak your future may look right now. If anything, please let this be a small reminder that you’re not alone. Let this be a reminder of your own brilliant heart and powerful spirit. Let this be a reminder that you have made it this far, and you do have what it takes to keep going. Let this be a reminder that there is good in the world, and good in you specifically.

We love you. We really do care about you with all of our heart. We know that things will get better for you in time, but until then, please keep fighting like hell. You’ve come so far, and even if you still have a long way to go, you can make it. We believe in you!

[sombrathedragon]

Ranking all Wof Cover (except winglets and graphic novels) because I’m bored :p (Some spoilers!)

#1: The Dragonet Prophecy. Personally, I think it’s cool, although I think it could have a little more action on it. In the drafts, it was gonna have Queen Scarlet’s arena, which I think would’ve been a cool edition to the cover, but sadly they removed it. 7/10

#2: The Lost Heir. Ok this one is awesome. It really shows Tsunami’s personality in her pose and it has so much action yet not to much. But they did forget to put the royal markings on her wings, which kinda makes her seem a little less important if you’re just looking at the cover. Originally it was gonna be called “The Last Heir” which sounds epic, but then again Anemone is in the book, so it wouldn’t make sense. 9.5/10

#3: The Hidden Kingdom. One of the coolest covers, I’m a sucker for the wings contrasting with the background (which is a reason I love The Dangerous Gift) but to be honest, Glory just kinda doesn’t stand out. Even with Tsunami being blue on blue, she stands out while Glory just… doesn’t. I think it would be cool if we saw her using venom, and if you say “But she doesn’t use venom in the Rainforest in the book!” Boy are you gonna do a flip when you see The Lost Continent. 5/10.

#4: The Dark Secret: Honestly… just kinda… meh. I mean sure Starflight’s pose is cool, as it shows how the Nightwings are supposedly these evil mind reading future seeing beings that are going to rule the world, but it’s not really as cool as Tsunami’s or Clay’s. If anything I think the background makes up for it. The blue cloudy sky contrasting with the dimly red lit stone just catches my eyes immediately. 5/10.

#5: The Brightest Night: I love this cover. Mainly because I love the way Sunny is portrayed on it as she is a hybrid but also I love the three moons in the background and the Sand Kingdom. Sunny’s golden yellow on the black night in the back is just perfection to my eyes. 10/10.

#6: Moon Rising: I adore this cover. And not because Turtle is on the back but that’s a reason I love it as well. Moon having that green fade on her wings is just really cool imo, and this is one of the covers that actually takes place in the book. I think it would be a little bit better if MoonWATCHER was look in the direction of the MOONS, but other than that I love this cover. 9/10.

#7: Winter Turning: The draft for this wasn’t going to have purple on it, and to be honest, I’m glad they added that. The purple really brings out Winter and the Ice Kingdom, and it really makes everything pop. 10/10.

#8: Escaping Peril: Ok so maybe I’m a sucker for red on blue but Peril’s cover is just, wow. Her being chased by Scarlet is awesome, but I’m a little sad it didn’t happen in the book. (I think? Haven’t read this in like a year) My only complaint is that it doesn’t look like the Sky Kingdom in the back. Like if I first saw this cover and didn’t read WOF, I would think they’re flying over human city’s. 7/10.

#9: Talons of Powers: Don’t be bias about this one because Turtle's in it, Don’t be bias about this one because Turtle’s in it, can you tell that this is my favorite cover? Other than the fact that Turtle’s on it, I love the fight between Turtle and Anemone on the cover, giving away a key point, but not too much spoilers. I also love all the action on the cover, with Turtle soaring out the water. But they did forget Anemone’s royal patterns, so it’s not perfect. 9.9/10

#10: Darkness of Dragons: Qibli’s yellow on the sunset background is just perfect, alongside the dark pieces of stone from the ancient Nightwing city. His pose really shows how Qibli is brave and daring, but they did forget his snout scar, which is like the one thing that makes Qibli, Qibli. 8/10.

#11: The Lost Continent: Blue’s, well blue is the perfect contrast to the orange Pantalan savanna and the tan hives. Now, most people don’t like this cover because, “Blue doesn’t get his wings in the book!” or, “Cricket described him as blue, but on the cover he’s purple and green!” And my response to these are, 1: Tui actually was going to make Blue have no wings on the cover, but she thought he looked more pretty with wings than without. And 2: I personally love purple and green blue, It makes him look more related to Admiral and it makes him less of an eyesore imo. (If you seen the book description version of him on the wiki, you know what I mean). 10/10.

#12: The Hive Queen: Again, even though it’s yellow on yellow, Cricket still manages to stand out. I think it’s because Cricket’s more yellow, while the hive is more orange. I think the lights and the.. hole dens? Really just make the background so visible but not the main focus. 10/10

#13: The Poison Jungle: How does Joy Ang manage to put the same colored character on the same colored background and still make them stand out? Magic. Anyways, Sundews pose and the Poison Jungle in the back just really shows how fierce she is. Her small gold scales make her pop from the background, and I think the light behind her is the key to not have her blend it. 10/10

#14: The Dangerous Gift: Like I said in THK, I love wings that stand out from the background, so this is one of my favorite covers. Snowfall flying with Lynx by the coast where the Silkwings would fly in gives away so much yet so little. Also I love Snowfalls pose, no reason why it just looks cool :). 10/10

#15: The Flames of Hope. Honestly…. This cover is the worst in the Lost Continent Arc. Honestly Lunas pose is cool, and I think it would look really awesome if it wasn’t for the lighting of the flamesilk. That kind of blends her into the background at makes it a little boring to look at. But I do have to say I love Sky with Wren on the back and even thought Sky is described as pale, I love a red Sky. 6/10.

#16: Darkstalker: Darkstalker in on his mewing streak on this cover 🤫🧏‍♂️👌. I love his black on red background, but it’s boring. There’s nothing going on in the back, and he’s just standing there doing nothing. 6/10.

#16: Dragonslayer: I don’t have much to say about this cover. It has so much action but so little at the same time. It catches my eye but at the same time it doesn’t. I’m honestly very meh about this cover. 5/10.

[nalyra-dreaming]

Armand discovering computer and video games, he’s immediately fascinated.

Yessssss.

Yet within six months he had dropped the movies for video cameras and must make his own films. All over New York he dragged Daniel, as he interviewed people on the nighttime streets. Armand had reels of himself reciting poetry in Italian or Latin, or merely staring with his arms folded, a gleaming white presence slipping in and out of focus in eternally dim bronze light. Then somewhere, somehow, in a place unbeknownst to Daniel, Armand made a long tape of himself lying in the coffin during his daytime deathlike sleep. Daniel found this impossible to look at. Armand sat before the slow-moving film for hours, watching his own hair, cut at sunrise, slowly growing against the satin as he lay motionless with closed eyes. Next it was computers. He was filling disk after disk with his secret writings. He rented additional apartments in Manhattan to house his word processors and video game machines.

Like.

I want Daniel to find these writings "again". I want him to discover the videos. I want him to remember the creation of all these files, the history, the proof of their life! Their life together!

I have very fond memories of playing World of Warcraft (for years *coughs*), imagine them doing that. Imagine Daniel remembering. Imagine Armand flying on a griffin into the sunset in a virtual world. (Imagine him crying at seeing the sun in the games, "experiencing" it, as it were, even if only virtual(*))

Ahhhh, I want to see it!!!! :))

I always loved Armand's obsession with what the modern world has to offer, because it is so darn relatable. The fascination with it all, the need to fill himself with everything life has to offer.

To find hope in life once more.

And he does it with Daniel there.

And I want Daniel to remember that.

(* re the "sun". I think Armand is only able to stand the sun fairly recently. Also, Fareed wanted to "free" the vampires of the death sleep and the threat the sun poses, so it's absolutely possible imho that he has succeeded in the Dubai TL. But it wasn't always so for them I bet.)

[maybe-a-dinosaur]

bokuto koutarou big “standing on business” guy. what the fuck is he doing at any given time he is standing on business. kuroo asks him what he’s up to right now bo crosses his arms plants his feet angles his head “standing on business”.

uni instagram post scroll: dye in his hair while he eats takeout noodles in the bathroom, standing on top of enormous shipping container while kuroo climbs up next to him, action shot bokuto mid-blink mouth open talking (unaware) frisbee flying directly at his head, akaashi blank face protein shake being held next to his head for size comparison, bo standing next to a statue copying its pose w a earth pattered beanie on, kuroo side profile picking out fruit at the grocery store, two thumbs up smiling eyes closed tampon in nose bloody shirt in the gym, sunset pic, action shot jumping over a cart full of volleyballs, blurry follow up action shot cart falling over volleyballs going Everywhere bokuto inches from hitting the ground and eating shit. caption “standing on business”

this is his only response to anything for like a Month it just epitomizes him so well his head is always in the game he is Standing On Business.

[skullsnbruises]

I’m so happy to finish this ugh, I think this is the best vore descriptions I’ve written so far? Let me know how y’all liked it :)

If I made any mistakes no I didn’t, we wrote this partially at midnight and then the next morning on very little sleep. Lol. (Also. One day I’ll finish my requests, HAHAH, don’t worry I haven’t forgotten them)

[Ao3 Link]

Taglist: @poprockpanda @brick-a-doodle-do @local-squishmallow @dingbatnix @da3dm

As the Sun Sets

(2722 words) [fearplay, miscommunication, violence]

Walking along the wall was Philza and his two adopted dragon children. The skull masked one, Chayanne, was leading the group, proud dark purple scales on display as his tail whipped from side to side, a much smaller Tallulah gripping onto it lightly with her teeth. She was speckled with brown and blue, and her features were quite reminiscent of being aquatic, while Chayanne’s features were sharp and like knives, and was more striking of a scorpion, if anything. His body was his armor, tough skin built for anything, while Tallulah was meek, her petite body built for beauty instead.

Philza walked behind them, keeping an eye on his oversized children as they attempted to slow to his pace. He felt a spark of pride flicker inside his chest, watching how Chayanne was so careful with Tallulah, making sure to defend her at any cost. He’d tear obstructions out of their way with his claws, and nudge a path out for her, as she’d shyly pass through.

Phil loved his children a lot. He’d do anything to protect them, just like how he knew Chayanne would do anything to protect Tallulah.

Chayanne always striked Phil as reminiscent of Technoblade. They were both deeply caring, and highly protective, going to great lengths to defend their loved ones, no matter the cost. It was a charming quality, but Phil always had a fear in the back of his mind that it could be Chayanne’s downfall. He always prioritized others above himself, and that was worrisome.

Philza looked up into the sky, and estimated the time, “Hey, mates, it’s gonna get dark soon, let’s head back okay?”

The dragons turned around, and Tallulah let go of Chayanne’s tail for a moment, brushing herself against him instead. Chayanne made a chirp of acknowledgement and Tallulah dipped her head.

The dad waved his hand in motion for them to follow along, “Alright, come on you two.”

The sun was setting, and admittedly, Philza should’ve realized earlier. If only he hadn’t been so caught up in his own thoughts. Neither dragons could fly yet, their wings weren’t ready for that type of work, so they’d have to make the trek back on foot. It’s not like they couldn’t handle mobs, it would just be annoying to deal with. Chayanne might get caught up in the fight, too.

At least they had the beautiful scenic view of the sun dipping behind the land in the distance, meeting the ocean around the island. No matter how many centuries Philza lived through, the sunset took his breath away everytime.

Tallulah met beside Phil, and she nudged at his shoulder. She was very small compared to Chayanne, but still at least two feet taller than her dad, when she was on all fours.

They traveled back along against the wall, occasionally peering out at the forest, the trees obstructing their vision of any threats that might be posed in the distance.

They would be safe, Philza assured himself. He wasn’t exactly anxious, but he wanted to be cautious anyway. No need to have any unnecessary injuries.

Everything was going okay so far. Philza was chatting with the two dragons, and they’d chirp back, but occasionally pause to write a response on a sigh instead. Their handwritings were scratchy, words written with claws, but legible. They were mostly making small talk, nothing too important. Phil had commented on how much he loved the sunset, to the agreement of his kids.

It was turning out to be a pleasant walk back. Phil might’ve realized his guard had slipped in any other scenario, but he couldn’t now, simply enjoying his time with Chayanne and Tallulah, walking between the two dragons who were his family and love.

The sudden flash of a neon green light shot out, and Phil was blinded by the sudden brightness against the now-approaching night sky. He shielded his vision, eyes adjusting to the light in front of him, and with horror, he realized the creature in the air before them was the binary entity. Phil’s heart sank and his body tensed up, arm reaching instantly towards his sword, drawing it with a vengeful glint in his eye. He watched as Chayanne stepped in front of him and let out an enraged roar. His spiked tail whipped warningly, and Tallulah cowered behind Phil, body shrinking like she was his shadow.

The formless figure shaped its code around to resemble arms outstretched from its main body, and it zipped through the sky like lightning. It was suddenly overwhelming Phil, darting past his body, leaving sharp cuts along him as it whipped around him. He could hear Tallulah squeak in fear, and Chayanne let out a booming shriek, swinging his tail around to smack the entity like a flyswatter to a pesky bug.

The code monster was thwacked out of the air and collided hard against the ground, kicking up clumps of dirt. It was a brief moment of getting reorganized. Phil turned quickly towards his children, as Chayanne approached Tallulah with a pinched up terrified expression. She bowed her head at him, and he widened his mouth. Philza felt his heartbeat throbbing in his ears, breath heavy, as he watched in terror; Chayanne’s maw stretched open and scooped Tallulah up in one fell swoop. She disappeared behind a click of Chayanne’s teeth, and a large bump followed down the dragon's throat.

He wasn't allowed to question it any longer, as the code monster had recovered and was flying through the air again. Philza braced for the impact of its knife-like cuts, but his world was suddenly til shifted as his body was thrown up into the air. Philza’s breath was knocked out of his chest, staring downward was an open maw. His son’s open maw.

Everything seemed to slow, as his immortal life flashed behind his eyes. Chayanne has just swallowed Tallulah whole, and he was the next victim. He hadn’t any time to mourn his daughter, nor himself, as time returned to normal and gravity plummeted the man straight into the open mouth.

Teeth were sharp all around him, and he clung onto Chayanne’s tongue like a lifeline. The squishy appendage rolled around, and the pointed tongue curled in on itself, trying to push Phil back to his throat.

The man was filled with anxiety, kicking and flailing desperate, like his brain was powered only by instinct to survive. The uvula dangled, curling up and contorting as the mouth he was trapped inside shifted about. The tongue nudged and prodded at Philza, but he refused to go down easy. Something was seriously wrong with Chayanne right now, and Phil needed to make it out alive to find out what. Maybe there was a chance to save Tallulah too, before it was too late.

Philza reached and tried to climb, but was only slipping and losing his grip under the squishy tongue, salvia being Phil’s worst enemy. He used his nails, trying to pry himself up.

Chayanne’s body dramatically shook, and it felt as if he had been knocked over. Phil’s spot was taken from him, and he fell a significant amount. Chayanne’s constant movement was making it impossible, and then the worst thing Philza could’ve hoped would never happen happened.

He felt as Chayanne’s head lifted upward, leaving Philza grasping to hold onto the dragon's uvula. His son swallowed hard, tongue pushing up against the already soaked man, and uvula shifting around so Phil was kicking. His sandal slipped off and felt into the abyss of Chayanne’s esophagus. Phil had tried so hard to hold it until now, but a sudden grief ridden sob took over his body, and it was his downfall. As his body shook, his grip was lost, and he found himself trapped between squishy walls within the blink of an eye.

The walls of the throat squished Philza, his body folding along the wetness. His struggles were pointless, and nothing was good enough to grab, so the hard swallows that followed were more than enough to drag Phil deeper into his doom. The man let himself cry. For himself. For Tallulah. For Chayanne.

Within short lived moments, Phil wasn’t being squeezed anymore, and he slipped into a pool of some kind. As his mind raced, he realized this was the stomach. Dark, drenched, and dangerous. His eyes squinted, needy for a source of light to judge how fast he was going to die, and if escape might still be possible. The darkness was hard, but a few seconds gave him just enough that Phil could make out outlines.

In front of him was Tallulah. His beautiful daughter. She was small, she had shifted into her humanoid form again. Philza sludged wobbly through the pool. His hands came around her body, and he hugged her.

She let out small chirps, aroused from the touch. Her pretty brown eyes blinked open and she looked up to meet eyes with her dad. His heart panged, so grateful that she was still alive.

The dragon was thrust around again, sloshing the wetness up and splashing against the stomach walls. Tallulah tightened her claws into Philza’s shirt, steadying against his weight. They silently decided sitting was less dangerous, and Phil sat Tallulah onto his lap, brushing fingers through her soaking curled hair.

“Oh my gods, Tallulah,” he swore he’d never cried so much, “I was so worried.”

She tilted her head and a small noise sounded from her chest. Her sweater paws wrapped around him in a warm embrace.

“I’ll find us a way out,” Phil bit his lip, the words feeling rotten on his tongue. It felt like a lie, and he wouldn’t promise a thing to her now. As much as he wanted to stay positive, things were looking hopeless.

Philza glanced around, the walls were a deepend purple hue, squiggly and textured. The faint shine reflected on them, showing off the small hints of blue and green. Everything felt small inside the stomach, the space was little, and the stomach contracted around them ever so often, a claustrophobic dread washing over him with every slosh of acid.

Chayanne’s body was no longer being flailed and thrown around, Phil realized. The only movement was a steady rhythmic pattern; walking, if he had to guess.

“I think things have calmed down, Tallulah,” Phil gulped, “Maybe Chayanne will realize now and let us out.”

His daughter made that same tiny movement. Confused body language.

“What is it?” He glanced down at her frown. He squinted, making out her limited sign language skills.

“S-a-f-e. No Tallulah, this isn’t safe right now, I’m gonna make us safe though, if it’s the last thing I do-,” he was cut off by her nudging him.

“S-a-f-e, yes Tallulah, I understood. I’m saying that-“ She crossed her arms and pointed at the spot they were sitting, then around in a circular motion towards the stomach walls. She repeated the word, emphasizing each letter in her hands.

The man was confused, and a little concerned, “Are you saying we’re safe right now,” a nod, “we aren’t, Tallulah. I’m going to-“

Their bodies were shifted around once more, tossed around inside the organ. The walls squeezed in on them again, making ‘gllk’ and sloppy sounds as the walls seemed to throb like a heart. Suddenly, Philza, with a death grip on Tallulah , was being pushed back up the esophagus. The man was overtaken by dizziness as light once again flooded his senses, and a hard thud knocked against his back. His hands still carried Tallulah’s meek weight, and his disoriented state kept him laying on the ground.

Several deep breaths later, senses coming back into fruition, Philza was ready to properly open his eyes and see what the hell was going on.

He was immediately met with Chayanne’s snout, exhales breathing over his body. He jolted up, backing up slightly. Chayanne and Tallulah were staring at him so calmly, like nothing deeply traumatic had just happened.

The deep purple dragon slowly shifted back, scales morphing into skin, entire figure shrinking, tail and horns sliding into a proportionate size to his child body. He tilted his head at his dad.

Breathless, the man tried to stand, “W-what the fuck?!”

The boy pulled out a yellow sign, placing it on the ground. He crouched the carve in his sentence. When finished, he scooted to the side, sitting with the duck floaty around his body comfortably.

“I’m confused dad, what’s wrong?” Phil read, “MATE. You just ate me and your sister! How is that not obviously the problem?!”

Chayanne shrunk into himself, tail curling around his legs. He looked ashamed now.

Tallulah took her turn to write, a purple sign displayed for Philza.

Again, he read it aloud, “This is a dragon thing.” He made a noise of disbelief, “You’re just able to swallow each other alive, no problem?!”

A casual nod from both children.

“How haven’t I known this sooner?! Would’ve saved a lot of panic!” His stern tone came to a halt, staring at the sad expressions of the siblings, “Okay. I’m sorry for how I reacted. You two need to let me know about things this important though, okay? Your dad needs to know if he’s going to get swallowed alive next time.”

Then the situation hit him, “Oh shit, is everyone okay?”

Chayanne had a few cuts. Nothing serious, upon inspection. Tallulah was unscathed. Phil had some nasty slices along his face, but it would be fine with some painkillers and days to heal.

Inside Chayanne’s room, Philza bandaged the boy up, as Tallulah bounced happily on the bed. Phil was knelt down, sticking another bandage over Chayanne’s arm. The blood was dried, so he’d wiped the dark remnants away with a damp cloth. The boy was peering down, and even through the mask, Phil could sense the sadness within him.

He hummed, “What’s up?” He patted Chayanne’s chest, finishing up the bandages and medicine. The boy sighed, taking his place beside his sister on the bed. He leaned against her, and Tallulah wrapped his arm around his waist.

Chayanne’s lower lip quivered, taking out a sign and slowly started writing on it. Phil waited patiently, putting the medical supplies away. He occasionally glanced over to his son, frowning at Chayanne’s sad expression. Tallulah watching over his shoulder, eyebrows furrowing as she watched his sentence form.

Chayanne turned the finished sign around, dipping his head and avoiding all eye contact.

Philza read it out. “Did I fail?” His breath slowed and instantly rushed over to wrap Chayanne into his arms, squeezing him tightly, “Of course not, you saved us. You protected us, Chayanne.” His heart twisted and he held him closer. Phil shifted, bringing Chayanne into his lap as he sat up on the bed, leaning against the wall with his son resting now on his chest, “Listen, mate, you did amazing. I’m sorry how I acted, I didn’t know what was up. But you got me and your sister out of there. I’m just so fucking sorry you had to fight alone.”

The little dragon whimpered, and Tallulah scooted over to join the hug. She held up a sign for him, reading, ‘We love you!’

He whimpered in response, biting his tongue to hold back the tears.

“It’s okay. You can cry. You’re allowed,” Philza whispered out. His son needed the confirmation now more than anything. His son’s hold tightened, and a bundle of tears and twitches broke through him. Tallulah and Phil kept him close, comforting him through his sobs. They rubbed circles into his clothes.

After a few minutes, his cries died out, and they were left holding one another. Philza wordlessly stood from the bed, and tucked the two under the blankets, fluffing their pillows and bending down to press kisses against either of their foreheads.

“You both were perfect today,” he spoke softly, “Get some sleep. I love you both so much.”

Tallulah held up a hand, sleepily showing the sign for ‘I love you.’ Chayanne made a few groggy clicks, before turning to hold his sister, wrapping around her smaller body in a protective cuddle. They both purred, closing their eyes and adjusting quietly. Philza smiled, waiting until they fell asleep before he silently left, shutting the door with a click behind him.

[training4theapocalypse]

Finders Keepers Ch 12. (Cormac McLaggen x fem!reader)

Rating: Explicit 18+ (no smut)

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: None

Summary: As the first Muggleborn caught by the Muggleborn Registration Commission, the Ministry decides to make an example of you.

A/N: Prison Mike: The worst thing about prison was the... was the Dementors. They were flying all over the place and they were scary and then they'd come down and they'd suck the soul out of your body and it hurt!

Tag list: @countlambula, @ratsys, @aweidlich, @navs-bhat, @stainedpomegranatelips, @chiaraanatra, @xxvelvetxxxx, @ohnoitsrosie, @dracosisteer, @daisydark, @intense-sneezing, (let me know if you want removed at any point btw!)

Masterlist

Chapter 12: Cold, Hard Facts

IIII IIII IIII IIII

Mr McLaggen was right about one thing. The trial was a sham.

According to those presiding over the courtroom, you were the first Muggleborn who had been caught red-handed, breaking into a wizarding home and stealing magic.

And you were to be made an example of.

One year in Azkaban.

Blinding flashes of light hit your face as you were dragged through the Ministry foyer with chains around your wrists - The Daily Prophet photographers were ready to plaster your face on the front page when they announced the first successful conviction of the Muggleborn Registration Commission.

The light danced behind your eyelids turning from white to green in a whirlwind of confusion. One second you were in the foyer, the next you were being led through a fireplace and the burning smell of Floo Powder became the cold, salty air of the North Sea when you arrived in Azkaban. 

Before you had time to get your bearings, a placard was being forced into your hands, with your name and ancient runes depicting your crime. You were photographed again - this time by Ministry Officials. Absurdly, it reminded you of your first day of primary school when your mum and dad made you pose on the front steps of your flat, holding your little pink school bag so they could take the Polaroid of you that’s still stuck on their fridge to this day.

Your parents.

Now as you sit alone in your cell, thinking about your arrival to this place, the familiar feeling of despair creeps over you. Your thoughts turn to your mum and dad - hoping against hope that McLaggen will write to them and tell them what happened. That they won’t think you started your Quidditch career and simply abandoned them.

McLaggen.

You haven’t seen him since that night at the McLaggen Estate. Twenty days ago, you think. Forty servings of cold porridge, twenty dim sunsets glimpsed from the window in the empty cell across from yours - yours is windowless. Or was it twenty-one yet? This island in the middle of the sea is so grey today that you’re not sure if it’s the dead of night or just cloudy. You always wondered why in old Muggle films, prisoners would etch tally marks, counting the days onto the wall. But now you understand. You find a small piece of stone and give into the old clichė. The monotony. The isolation. The distant screaming. It all blurs into one dismally bleak streak. 

And what’s worse, every time the Dementors drift along your corridor, you find yourself descending into hopelessness, reliving every bad memory you’ve ever had. Now, as you etch lines into the wall, you can’t stop replaying McLaggen’s dad gladly offering you over to the authorities. You wonder if he’d ever really removed your name from the list of known Muggleborns. Or if his plan was to hand you in all along.

On the first day in Azkaban, you fretted about McLaggen. You pictured him waking up and arguing with his parents. In your imagination, you could clearly see him being so furious that he got into another fight - this time with Mr McLaggen. Then you worried. Worried that McLaggen had been taken in for questioning too. And it was all your fault.

But it’s been almost three weeks. There’s been no sign of McLaggen in Azkaban and there probably never will be - McLaggen had been painted as a victim of your corruption rather than an accomplice. It was his magic that you’d been accused of attempting to steal. 

So what would be next for Cormac McLaggen? By now he’s probably joined the Ministry already. Maybe he’s even a part of the Muggleborn Registration Commission. Maybe he’s with someone else. Maybe he’s married. Oh, no. How long have you been in here again?

You hear a disturbance some way away. The familiar sounds of another prisoner being brought in. During the first few days, you’d press yourself up against the bars of your cell, desperate to see signs of life being dragged past and along the dark corridor by a Ministry official. But recently, you hadn’t even had the energy to get up from the cold stone bench, resigning yourself to accepting that yet another Muggleborn had met your fate.

This time, however, the guard opens the cell opposite yours. You look up from your dirty, bare feet just for something to do. It’s not like you want company, on the contrary, the less crying and whimpering you hear in close proximity the better. From the distraught screams of the other prisoners, you’ve deduced they’re keeping all the Muggleborns on the same floor - right at the top - the coldest and highest cells where they used to keep Death Eaters. But in this new regime they were the ones who were out free while you had taken their place.

“Alright, alright. No need to push me, mate,” says a young man’s voice - a voice you recognise from what seems like another lifetime.

The official throws him in the cell, locks the door and swiftly departs to leave you and your new neighbour staring at each other across the corridor.

“Alright, mucker?”

You drop the small piece of stone to the floor with a clatter.

“Carmichael?” You barely recognise your own whisper. It’s hoarse. Strained. You haven’t used it in so long.

You walk over slowly and rest your head against the cool wrought iron bars, trying to get a glimpse of him in the darkness.

“You look like shit,” Eddie Carmichael says, grinning.

Grinning. 

You almost forgot what that looked like. The strip of teeth stretching across Carmichael’s face looks foreign in here. But as you look at his smiling face, something that was sleeping inside you stirs. It’s like his happiness - his baffling, out-of-place happiness - makes you briefly remember who you were before you came here.

“What are you here for?”

“Same as you I s’pose. Though I didn’t get the same spectacular trial or press cuttings you did. ‘The Muggleborn who Hoodwinked the Holyhead Harpies’ was the latest, if you fancy. Nah, it was Dolores Umbridge and a pretty pink quill checking a box this afternoon before tossing me in. They were only s’posed to snap my wand in two… Then she realised I was a former member of Dumbledore’s Army.” He snorts.

Dumbledore’s Army.

You’d almost forgotten about the little club that Carmichael, Cho, Marietta and McLaggen had joined nearly two years ago.

“Have you -” you gulp, your tight throat struggling to get the words out. “- have you seen McLaggen?”

“I ain’t spoken to nobody in weeks. Your mush is a sight for sore eyes - even in this getup.”

You look down at your tarnished grey and white striped robes. Or at least the stripes used to be white. The corners of your mouth turn up slightly at his smart-arsed comment. It makes your facial muscles hurt. Here he is. The same cheeky Jack the Lad you knew from Hogwarts, cracking jokes.

“How did they catch you?”

“Snatchers,” he clicks his tongue bitterly. “Packs of ‘em are out looking for Muggle-borns in exchange for gold. Or silver in my case. My bounty wasn’t as high as the likes of Hermione Granger.”

“They’re looking for Granger?”

“And Potter and Weasley. Anyone who had anything to do with the Order of the Phoenix. Greedy bastards thought they thought they might get a bit more when they heard I was in the D.A. but no such luck.”

“The Order of the Phoenix?”

“Christ, you are out of the loop. It’s what the resistance called themselves back when Dumbledore was leading it. They’re back again now he’s gone.”

“And what? Potter’s leading the resistance?”

A tiny glimmer of hope that’s immediately dampened - you’ve seen the way he manages his Quidditch team so you’re not sure how much stock you can put in Potter leading a resistance to save the day and get you out of here.

“Nobody’s seen him since Dumbledore’s funeral,” says Carmichael. “Some say he’s dead.”

Dead.

“And you’ve not heard anything about McLaggen?”

“Not since you were plastered on the front page for ‘stealing his magic’.” Carmichael laughs softly. “Would explain why he was such a big berk at school if you had, though.”

You look at him stony-faced. “Why are you in such a good mood?”

“I told ya, didn’t I? You’re the first person I’ve spoken to properly in weeks.”

“Carmichael, we’re in Azkaban.”

“Yeah, but we ain’t done nothing wrong.” You chew your lip. “What? You gonna tell me you actually did attack the Minister for Magic’s daughter and hold McLaggen and his mum and dad hostage?”

“Of course not.”

“Then both of us ain’t done nothing wrong,” he repeats. “You need to remember that or you’ll go doolally. Or maybe you already have.” 

“Ask again in a week when you’ve been around the Dementors long enough. Then we’ll see who’s going daft.” You scowl. Carmichael has no idea what it’s like in here. 

“I know there’s nothing wrong with being Muggleborn. And that’s the only reason we’re here. It’s not a happy thought but I’m gonna hold onto it. That way the Dementors can’t take it.”

“That’s the only reason we’re here…” Saying it aloud reminds you that’s why you’re here - why you’re really here. It de-mistifies something in your brain. Brings you clarity.

“C’mon. Don’t go soft on me. That there’s a fact. We Ravenclaws stick to cold, hard facts, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say. And for the first time in weeks, you can feel your resolve strengthening. Actually strengthening. “I’ve been wrongfully arrested.” It feels real.

“That’s a good fact, see? Not happy. Tell me another one,” says Carmichael.

“I learned how to do a shield charm this summer,” you say. It feels like it’s helping. Maybe he’s onto something. “You tell me one.”

“Marietta’s working for Umbridge.”

“She - she what?”

“Yep. Couldn’t even look at me today. She was right there and didn’t even lift her head up when she heard my name.” He slumps down on the wall. “I’m worried she’s been Imperiused. But what’s worse is if she hasn’t been.” Carmichael looks at you despairingly. “And then what if she-”

You realise what’s happening. It happened to you. A sad memory easily slips into catastrophising then before you know it you can’t stop.

“Eddie. Don’t speculate. Cold, hard facts remember?”

He shakes his head, snapping himself out of it.

“Dean Thomas got away from the snatchers when they got me.”

“Good. Marcus Flint is missing most of his front teeth after McLaggen knocked them out.”

“He is?” Carmichael perks up significantly at this. “God, I hated him.”

“Yeah, it gave him a lisp and everything.”

Carmichael bursts out laughing but stops abruptly. You hear the rattling breathing of a Dementor coming your way, drawn by the sounds of happiness. Instinctively you back away to the cold external wall of your cell, as far away as you can from its presence.

It pauses between you and Carmichael for a few moments, basking in his joy at Flint’s expense before retreating back to where it came from.

When you see Carmichael again, he’s in the corner, white as a sheet, with his legs pulled up tight to his chest.

Shivering, you crawl back over to the bars.

“Carmichael?” He doesn’t reply. “Eddie? Come on, give me a fact.”

“I…” He falters.

“McLaggen’s started playing football,” you tell him, gripping the bars and looking at him imploringly.

He takes a few deep breaths before meeting your gaze again. “Unbelievable.” He looks shell-shocked.

“You alright?”

He pauses for a few seconds. There’s silence. A few drips leak from the ceiling onto the stone floor. “I’ve been banging on about West Ham for seven years - he starts going out with you and he thinks he’s Frank Lampard.”

“He’s more of an Andy Goram.”

He scoffs. “You’ve not got him into the Scottish farmer’s league, have you?”

“What did we say about sticking to facts?” You smile then quickly rearrange your face. “No fun facts or we’ll attract one again.”

IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII I

Time passes more quickly with Carmichael around to help stop you from going mad. You’re both careful to reign each other in any time the other makes a joke or even says anything remotely optimistic. It’s a miserable way of living but infinitely less so than when you were dwelling alone on everything that happened at the McLaggen estate. 

You stop yourself from wondering what McLaggen is doing. Any thoughts about him either turn into hope that he’s thinking about you or despair that he’s simply… not. 

The two of you recite facts all day. After deciding that football was a much too emotive topic, Carmichael tells you things about magical creatures he learned during his N.E.W.Ts and you tell him about the different properties of potion ingredients you learned in yours. 

After discovering that you actually sleep through the night when you’re tired, you both start exercising. Once your evening porridge has been wolfed down, you spend time before bed doing pushups and burpees. You’re careful to do it in silence, making it punishingly difficult until you can’t move anymore - if you have too much fun you’re reminded of sorely of Quidditch practice and that sends the Dementors gliding along to the no man’s land between your cells.

The two of you sit on the floor, eating quietly. Carmichael’s cell has a window facing out to the sea but yours doesn’t - just three walls and some bars facing his. As the evening sun sets, the tiniest sunbeam casts light into his cell.

“The nights are getting shorter,” says Carmichael, moving slightly so the beam of sunlight hits his face. He closes his eyes and sighs deeply. “Do you think it’s September yet?”

You count the etchings on your wall. “It’s the second of September,” you say with reasonable confidence.

“School will have started. I wonder what Hogwarts will be like this year?”

“Speculation,” you chide, pointing your spoon at him. “No wondering, no hoping, no-”

“No despairing. I know, I know.” He finishes his porridge and puts the empty bowl on the floor outside his cell. It vanishes immediately. Carmichael gets up, stretches and looks out the window at the sunset.

“Can you describe it for me again?” you ask, leaning your head back against the wall.

“It’s clear today. The clearest it’s been… I think I can actually see the mainland.”

Scotland. You know you’re somewhere in the North of Sea but if Carmichael can see the mainland it must be Scotland.

You get to your feet and stand on your tiptoes.

“Move out the way, Carmichael,” you say, craning your neck and trying to make out the horizon. You jump up and down on your tip toes but you still can’t see it. You sit down again, trying to reign in your disappointment before you start spiralling.

“It looks like a small black blob,” he says unhelpfully.

“I bet it’s beautiful - sorry! I know… Speculation.”

“You’re not missing much, honestly.”

Not missing much. That’s the understatement of the year.

When night falls, you both go into your usual routine of exercising again until you can’t stand any longer. You lie on the hard stone slab and stare at the ceiling, trying to make your mind blank. You don’t pray for sweet dreams. If you dream too happily, you’ll attract a Dementor. 

Especially when those dreams are about McLaggen.

You must drift off because the next thing you know, you’re awoken by a bright silver light in your cell. You sit bolt upright, feeling unusual warmth spreading from your numb fingertips to your freezing cold toes.

You squint, adjusting to the source of the light.

“What the-?”

A large translucent German Shepherd emits a glowing silvery light as he pads up and down your cell.

“Oh my god,” says Carmichael from across the corridor - he too must have been awoken by the bright light. He presses up against the bars, trying to get as close as he can.

It’s a Patronus. You’ve never seen one in real life but you recognise it from reading all about them when you were studying for your O.W.Ls several years ago. But wands were strictly banned in Azkaban - who could have cast it?

The German Shepherd sits and tilts his head from side to side. His big ears flop over each time he does it.

It’s the funniest thing you’ve ever seen. Or at least the funniest thing you’ve seen in here.

You laugh. A side-splitting laugh that echoes through the entire floor. And you just know that the Dementors won’t come. Your laugh sets Carmichael off too. Somewhere along the way as your mind clears, your tears of laughter turn to sorrow then quickly back to joy again when the German Shepherd goes into a play pose, wagging his tail enthusiastically.

You reach out to touch it. As your fingers meet its nose, it disappears, leaving a trail of silvery mist in the air. With a grin at each other, both of you scramble to your usual spots across from each other.

“Do you think someone in here has a wand?” you ask excitedly.

“Another prisoner? No chance.” You frown. “But didn’t you recognise it?”

“No? Did you?”

“Well, when I was in the D.A., there was only one person who cast a Patronus in that form.” You feel your heart racing. You already know the answer. 

“Cormac,” you say softly, pure happiness surging through your chest. “But he’s not… do you think he’s here?”

“I don’t think so.” Oh. “I’ve heard some people can send their Patronuses long distance. But that’s really advanced magic. I dunno how McLaggen pulled it off.”

“And you need to be happy to send a Patronus, right? Like, really, really, happy. Do you think it’s good news?”

“Speculation,” he warns but you shake your head. You know the Dementors aren’t paying your corridor a visit tonight. Not after a Patronus has just been here.

“They’re not coming back tonight, Eddie. I can just feel it.”

He hesitates. “I mean, once you get the hang of casting a patronus you don’t need the same amount of concentration on a happy thought.”

“Oh.”

“But it means we know he’s alive at least, innit?”

When you both turn into bed again, you feel like you’ve drank some Elixir of Euphoria. You can’t wipe the smile off of your face. 

His dad might have handed you over to the Ministry but McLaggen is thinking about you. He’s okay. And he’s given you a precious few moments without the Dementors so you can feel like yourself again.

You lie on your side and trace grooves on the stone slab with your fingertips. If you close your eyes, you can almost pretend it’s your fingers running across his chest as you cuddle into the crook of his arm.

You fall asleep, this time dreaming of McLaggen.

IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII II

The morning after the German Shepherd appeared, the security bringing in captured Muggleborns doubled. Today the other inmates being brought in to be locked up - or worse, taken away for questioning - are accompanied by at least two Ministry officials.

Neither of you had managed to come up with a good theory about why security had tightened but you both agreed that something happened outside Azkaban that had the Ministry spooked. And that was a good sign.

“Footsteps,” says Carmichael later that afternoon and you both prick your ears up. “Three sets, I reckon.”

As predicted, another poor soul is dragged past your cell by two officials. When they lock them up they walk past your cells again.

“Oi, s’cuse me?”

The Ministry officials stop, taken aback that an inmate actually has the energy or the audacity to speak to them. You furrow your brow - what’s Carmichael playing at?

“Are you done with that newspaper?” They look at each other nervously. “It’s nothing untoward mate, I just fancy a bit of sudoku.” One of them cautiously passes the newspaper through the bars to Carmichael. “Much obliged.”

He waits until they’re out of earshot. “I thought I saw a headline when it was sticking out of his pocket. Fuckin’ hell. Listen to this,” he clears his throat. “‘Infiltrators Disrupt Ministry Proceedings. Yesterday, the second of September 1997, three Ministry officials were attacked and impersonated by a terrorist group known to the Ministry.’”

“You think it’s that Order group you were talking about?”

Carmichael nods and continues reading aloud. “The group infiltrated Ministry proceedings and freed a group of Muggleborns, suspected of obtaining magic by unlawful means. Deputy Head of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement, Gregor McLaggen -”

You groan.

“Hold on, hold on - lemme finish,” says Carmichael. “‘Gregor McLaggen said ‘We’re investigating this attack on the Ministry of Magic as a top priority. Our Aurors are working to ensure the three individuals responsible for this incident are brought to justice. The Department for Magical Law Enforcement urges those who fled the scene to hand themselves into the authorities immediately so the Muggleborn Registration Commission can conduct its due process.’”

You both mull this new information over for a few moments. “Do you think it was McLaggen who broke in?” you ask, thinking of his Patronus.

“McLaggen wouldn’t need to impersonate anyone to get into the Ministry,” reasons Carmichael. “Besides, it said ‘three individuals’ - if we’re in here, who does McLaggen have that would break into the Ministry with him?”

You purse your lips. “Do you think it was Potter, Weasley and Granger?”

“Yeah… maybe!”

You hear the rattling sound of a Dementor drifting down the corridor towards you, attracted by your renewed excitement, and you both shut up and retreat into the corner of your respective cells. You know by now that the best way to shield yourself is to rid yourself of any thoughts and sit numbly until it passes. Neither of you dare to speak again for the rest of the day.

IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII III

Every evening after sunset the German Shepherd Patronus appears at roughly the same time. It’s the highlight of your and Carmichael’s dismal existence.

When it comes it feels like everything changes. During its arrival and for a few hours afterwards, you’re able to actually wonder about what’s going on outside these walls and talk about things that make you feel. Really feel. Which is just as well because you think you were running out of facts. 

After spending your nights talking with Carmichael, you wake up with a renewed sense of purpose every day. It’s not optimism as such. It’s resilience. And each morning you recite the same mantra - reminding yourselves that you’ve done nothing wrong and don’t deserve to be here.

“So McLaggen’s dad turned you in?” Carmichael asks you one morning. You nod solemnly. “If I’m honest, that actually makes me feel better about Marietta blanking me at the Ministry.”

“How so?”

“McLaggen’s dad is high up in the Ministry and he had to hand you over. What was Marietta gonna do? She’s just an assistant.”

“I don’t know if he had to hand me over. I think he planned it.”

“You reckon?”

“I don’t know. It happened so quickly but he must have, right? ‘She’s in here, we’ve got her.’ He must have known they were coming.”

“Shit.”

You hear movement along the corridor. “Footsteps again,” you tell Carmichael, listening carefully. “Only one set?”

You shuffle closer to the bars to see why only one person is coming along the corridor. In the darkness, you can make out a tall man making his way towards your cells. He stops in front of you and the sliver of morning light coming through Carmichael’s window illuminates his face.

It’s Mr McLaggen.

His stern face looks down at you. You feel remarkably small on the floor of your cell.

“Speak of the bloody devil,” mutters Carmichael. Mr McLaggen ignores him.

“The Head of the Muggleborn Registration Commission has summoned you for questioning.”

“Me? What? They know I don’t know anything about where I got my magic,” you say.

“Questioning about the disappearance of Cormac McLaggen.” His lips tighten into a thin line.

Cormac. A shiver goes down your spine. But what about the Patronus?

“McLaggen’s missing?” Carmichael springs to his feet. “What’s she got to do with it? She’s been locked up in ‘ere.”

Mr McLaggen ignores him once more and extracts a set of chain handcuffs and a key from the pocket of his robes.

“Hands out, please,” he says. 

Please. After all this, after everything he’s done, he still thinks manners are important. 

He unlocks the door and handcuffs you. When the handcuffs click shut, they glow blue for a second before returning to their original dull state - no doubt some enchantment to stop you from doing a runner.

“Follow me.” He turns on his heels and walks back down the corridor.

This is unprecedented. Normally prisoners are dragged through these wretched halls. Maybe the Deputy Head of Magical Law Enforcement doesn’t know the finer details of the Azkaban protocols.

“Carmichael.” You take the opportunity to clutch his hand through the bars. His cold, clammy hand is the first human contact you’ve felt for almost two months. “I’ll find out everything I can, I promise.”

There are worse people you could have been stuck in Azkaban with than Carmichael. As long as you’re together you can make it through the rest of your sentence. Two months down. Ten to go.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, mucker.” Carmichael gives you a half-smile and squeezes your hand once.

“This way, please,” calls Mr McLaggen.

With difficulty, you bring yourself to let go of him and your bare feet slap stone as you catch up with Mr McLaggen. He collects his wand from the security desk and stands in the fireplace at the prison entrance. You join him, looking down at his wand. It’s just there.

“Don’t even consider it,” he says simply before grabbing a handful of Floo Powder and saying loudly, “The Ministry of Magic.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s much too bright. It’s much too loud. Too busy. And by god, it’s stifling hot compared to Azkaban.

You gasp for air, choking on the green smoke as you stumble out of the fireplace. Mr McLaggen grabs your upper arm to prevent you from falling flat on your face. He keeps a hold of you this time as he leads you through the busy foyer and the crowd parts like the Red Sea.

Squinting in the bright light, you make out faces amongst the Ministry employees shrinking away from you, looking at you in a mixture of fear and contempt.

When you get to the courtroom you’re jostled into a cage in the centre of the high-ceilinged room. Your handcuffs magically attach themselves to the bars of the cage, preventing you from moving around. You shift in your worn seat awkwardly - it might as well be a bean bag compared to your slab in Azkaban.

Dolores Umbridge clears her throat and your eyes snap upwards, looking at her sitting at a high desk amongst the benches in front of you. The benches are by no means packed but there’s a decent crowd - including a Daily Prophet reporter with his camera at the ready. Your eyes widen in alarm when you see her, scribbling away beside Umbridge.

Marietta.

“What can you tell us about the current whereabouts of a Mr Cormac McLaggen?” Umbridge asks, her mouth twisting in a saccharine smile.

“I - I- don’t… Doesn’t he work here?” You strain your neck to look at Mr McLaggen standing by the courtroom door.

“I want answers. Not more questions. Where is Cormac McLaggen?” she asks again.

“I don’t know.”

She titters. “Oh, that’s not true. Try again.”

“I haven’t seen him in weeks.” You gesture to your tattered robes. “I’ve been in Azkaban.”

Amused chattering buzzes around the crowd. You didn’t intend it to be a joke but it certainly lands like one. At Umbridge's expense. The corners of her wide mouth turn downwards and her eyes narrow.

“Hem - hem,” says Umbridge firmly and silence falls through the courtroom again. “I’m aware of that, dear. So tell me, where are the headquarters of the organisation known as Dumbledore’s Army?”

Now you’re even more stumped. “I’ve got no idea-”

“Lies!” Umbridge cuts across you.

“It’s not a lie! I was never even part of Dumbledore’s Army.”

“More lies.” She laughs. An awful, drawn-out sing-song laugh. “Miss Edgecombe, will you please refresh the Mudblood’s memory?”

Mudblood. Not a single person in the room flinches. You suppose that in the time you’ve been in Azkaban, it’s become an acceptable term.

Marietta waves her wand and a piece of parchment flies towards you and opens itself in front of your cage. You lean forward to read it. It’s titled ‘Dumbledore’s Army’ and there’s a list of names: Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Cho Chang, Marietta Edgecombe, Eddie Carmichael, Cormac McLaggen… This must be the cursed piece of paper that caused the word ‘sneak’ to scar itself across Marietta’s face. 

Your eyes fly to the bottom. There’s your name. 

That’s not possible. 

You narrow your eyes, your foggy brain whirring trying to scrutinise it. The handwriting is more or less the same. But why is yours bolder? Unless someone copied Hermione’s handwriting with a different quill…

You look past the paper and try to catch Marietta’s eye but she stares determinedly at the stack of parchment on the table in front of her.

What is she up to?

“That’s your name on that piece of paper, is it not?”

“Yes but-”

“A piece of paper, showing the known members of Dumbledore’s Army?”

“Yes but I-”

“So you admit you were a member of Dumbledore’s Army?”

“No!“

“Lies!” she screeches, her nostrils flaring. “We have it on good authority that Cormac McLaggen is being held captive by Dumbledore’s Army and unless you tell us where they’re keeping him-”

“I don’t know where they’re keeping him. I was never part of the D.A.!”

“Enough!” She snaps. “Take her back to Azkaban. Perhaps another two years on your sentence for attempting to pervert the course of justice will refresh your memory.”

“No, please - I swear I don’t know anything!”

“Your plea of ignorance didn’t help you in your first trial and it certainly isn’t an adequate defence today. That will be all.”

The photographer flashes his camera at your horror-stuck face. Your handcuffs detach from the cage and the door behind you swings open. Mr McLaggen takes your arm, roughly this time, and hauls you forcibly out of the room and back to the Ministry atrium. 

This time your eyes have adjusted enough to observe the foyer clearly. In the centre of the room is a gigantic statue of a witch and wizard, carved from black stone. As you pass, you read the inscription ‘MAGIC IS MIGHT’. With disgust, you realise the handsomely robed witch and wizard are sitting atop mounds of carved humans: hundreds and hundreds of naked bodies, men, women, and children, all twisted and pressed together. 

Muggles. Like your parents.

Mr McLaggen marches you so quickly towards the end of the atrium that you’re practically jogging to keep up with him without tripping. He pulls you into the fireplace and takes a handful of Floo Powder. He mumbles something, throws the Floor Powder to the ground and the two of you succumb to the surge of green flames.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mr McLaggen’s grip releases you when you arrive into the next grate.

“Let me get these damned things off you,” he says, pointing his wand at your handcuffs. They glow blue again before falling to the polished, hardwood floor.

Hardwood. Not grey stone. It feels warm on your feet.

You look up at Mr McLaggen in shock and he nods his head to the left. Hardly daring to breathe, you turn slowly and see him.

Cormac.

Cormac McLaggen standing in the middle of the entrance hall of his house.

That must mean you’re in his house too.

Your head starts to spin and the next thing you know, a cozy knitted jumper is pressed up against your face and you’re enveloped by the heady smell of amber and jasmine as McLaggen catches you from falling.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” he says in a soothing voice. “Reflexes still aren’t all that bad.”

You let out a helpless, ragged wail into his arms. Your chest tightens as you sob, you’re not even sure you’re crying - your body is just reacting to the impossibly overpowering stimuli being presented to it.

“Cormac, you need to leave. Now,” says Mr McLaggen from behind you.

With difficulty, he tries to help you stand upright in his arms but your knees buckle.

“Come on,” McLaggen murmurs. “We’ve got to go.”

“Eddie,” you bawl, your voice muffled by his soft jumper.

“Cormac…” he reminds you softly, looking down at you with concern.

“No, Eddie - Eddie Carmichael… In Azkaban.” You hiccup. “We can’t - I can’t leave him.”

“They’ll be here any second. Cormac, you know what to do.” Mr McLaggen hands Cormac his wand. You grip McLaggen for support as you try to stand upright. Try to understand what’s going on.

McLaggen puts the wand in his pocket and extends his own. His arm trembles.

“Do it!” Mr McLaggen urges through gritted teeth.

“Obliviate!” he says and Mr McLaggen barely has time to look dazed before Cormac brandishes the wand again. “Stupefy!”

A red jet of light hits Mr McLaggen and you clap your hand to your mouth when he collapses on the floor with a thud.

“Can you run? I can carry you.”

You swallow, thinking about how Carmichael will be doing burpees alone in his cell tonight, looking at the empty space you previously occupied. “I can run.”

“Hurry - we need to get past the gate so we can apparate to headquarters.”

And with that, McLaggen grabs your hand and the two of you burst out of the oak front doors of the McLaggen Estate and run. You feel the gravel stabbing and cutting into your feet as you sprint but you hardly care. The fresh, country air fills your lungs, making them burn as the two of you barrel down the path as fast as you can and out to the gate.

McLaggen opens and shuts it behind you. His hold tightens on your hand again before you disappear into thin air with a crack like a whip.

Chapter 13: Dunkirk

[topguncortez]

CONGRATS 🎊💐💖

Sweet Creature -> ❛i haven’t laughed like this in a long time.❜ with rooster please 🥺😍

pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x female!reader warnings: none other than Bradley being a sad boi Rooster Bradshaw Masterlist | Main Masterlist 3 fucking K celebration

Bradley could not remember the last time he went out on an actual date. Not just texting a potential tinder hook up to meet him for drinks at the Hard Deck. A real date, where he had to go pick her up from her house, and make a reservation, and put on something other than a Hawaiian shirt and jeans. He wasn't even sure if he had anything BUT Hawaiian shirts and jeans.

Phoenix was actually the one who set up this date for her wingman. Bradley was slowly coming to terms with the fact that he was going to be alone, but Phoenix was just not going to let that happen. He at first said no to the date, but Phoenix gave him her friend's number so things would be somewhat less awkward. After talking with you for almost two weeks, he felt good about going on this date.

You, were panicking, pacing the floor of your house as you waited for Bradley to come get you. He picked a cute little sea food place by the beach, and you had spent probably an hour trying on clothes. You settled on a sundress that went a little bit below your knee, and had a slit in it.

Bradley made sure to tuck an extra stick of deodorant in his glove box as he pulled up to your apartment. He grabbed the bouquet of carnations in the passenger seat, and fixed his hair before going up to your door.

You gasped as you heard your door bell ring, and told yourself to not run to the door and yank it open. Bradley though, felt like he thought something was wrong as there was a moment before the door opened.

"Hi," You smiled and Bradley forgot what words were. You were more beautiful in person.

"Uh, yeah, hi," Bradley said, shaking his head and you giggled softly. God, that giggle was going to be the death of him, "I got you these. Carnations. My mom once said you can never go wrong with carnations."

"She's a smart woman," You said and took the flowers from his outstretched hand, "I'm going to put them in a vase real quick. Come in."

Bradley nodded and looked around your small home. Decorations and knickknacks covered the walls. His eyes landed on the pictures you had on your bookshelf. Your smile was dazzling as you posed with some friends on what looked to be a 21st birthday. He smiled as he picked up a picture of you and your parents on your college graduation. You looked a lot like your dad, but you had your mother's smile.

"Ready?" Your voice rang out and Bradley nearly dropped the picture in his hand.

"Yeah!" He said, and then cursed himself for sounding too excited, "I mean, yeah. Let's head out."

--- --- ---

The restaurant was adorable, and Bradley had gotten the perfect reservation spot, right by the large open windows. You had mentioned once in a conversation, that you loved to watch the sunset over the water, and Bradley made sure that you could see it. The dinner conversation was light, as the two of you talked through what was usually the dreaded, awful get to know each other chatter. No matter how many dates either of you had gone on in your lifetime, the first date was always awkward as you asked "what's your favorite color?" or "did you grow up here?" or "what kind of music do you like to listen to?"

But for someone reason, it was like talking to an old friend with Bradley. It made you feel comfortable as you talked about your childhood, and growing up in Washington, and how annoying your siblings were. Bradley also found it nice to talk about anything other than work. You didn't ask him about flying jets, or deployments, or the Dagger squad. He assumed that you had heard enough about it from Phoenix.

After dinner, Bradley took you down to the beach, walking in the moonlight. You had your shoes in your hand as your feet were in the water.

"You never told me what your parents do?" You asked, looking up at Bradley. He sucked in a breath and you immediately regretted saying anything.

"My uh. . . my dad died when I was young, and my mother passed away about ten years ago."

"Bradley I am so- Ah!" You exclaimed as you tripped over a rock in the sand, sending yourself face first into the water.

"Oh shit!" Bradley said, throwing his boots down to help you up from the ground, "Are you okay?"

"Bradley, your boots!" You pointed towards were the tide was carrying his boots out to sea.

"Fuck!" He ran towards where his boots were drifting away but it was too late, they were a lost cause to the unforgiving ocean.

"I am so, so sorry! Here, let me get you money to get new- you're laughing?" You looked at him to see him trying to hide his laughter. The two of you fell into fits of laughter, clutching your stomachs. You had tears in your eyes, and had to gasp to catch your breath.

"No, I'm. . . yes, I'm laughing," Bradley smiled and you wiped at the tears under your eyes, "Listen, when Trace said you'd knock my socks off, I'm not sure this is what she meant."

"Ugh, this is so bad!" You shook your head. Bradley pulled you up from the sand, and wrapped his arm around your waist.

"It's okay. They were old and hurt my feet. I needed to get rid of them one way or another," You shook your head and laid your forehead against his chest. It was quiet as Bradley held you close to him, and the two of you basked into the moonlight and the sound of the waves crashing at your feet.

"Wait, where are your shoes?" Bradley asked and you lifted your head up. You looked to where they once were, and noticed that they too, had been pulled out to see. Bradley's chest rumbled with laughter as you groaned.

"Shoeless and soaking wet was not how I expected this night to go," You looked up at him.

"I'm glad it did though," Bradley pushed a strand of your hair back from your face, "I haven’t laughed like this in a long time, thank you."

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you looked from his eyes to his lips. He saw the flicker in your eyes, and slowly leaned in. You closed your eyes and wrapped your arms around his neck. His lips were soft as they touched yours, like two pillows. When the two of you pulled back, you rested your foreheads together.

"I could kiss you forever," Bradley whispered.

"Please do," You said back and Bradley happily obliged.

[peggy-uwu]

ok liveblogging watching the new episode because I'm insane

omf omg omg

this doesn't feel real

HES SO CUTE

omg what is this opening

OMG???

it has the old season vibes right at the beginning

the imagery??!?????

SEBASTIAN THE MAN THAT YOU ARE

I'm vibing with this op so much it's so fucking metal

giant fire monster??? please don't go off plot omg I'm worried now

ok the moon skull was cool

BISCUIT MY SHOUJO BABY GIRLIE I LOVE YOU

of course he's almost late

"first impressions are crucial, I must focus" *immediately fucks it up*

Redmond the beautiful woman that you are

REMOND RHE BEAUTIDUL WOMAN THAT YOU ARE

violet the beautiful woman that you are

REDMONSDDDD

waaaaaaah McMillan I love you

McMillan you're so cute 😭😭😭

"BOY UP" 💀💀💀

my poor son

GOSDDDDDDSDDDDDDDDD FUXK SEBASTIAN YOURE SO HOOOOOTTTT

let's take ibuprofen together ass pose

ciel is so sick of him already I love it

HES SO SICK OF HIM

omg stfu ur not funny

oooooh the windows are prettyyyy

Redmond the beauti-

violet my beautiful princess

fuck you zombie bitch die sooner

fucking power rangers ass lineup

LMAO GET FUCKED IDIOT

robot ass movements get away from my son

VIPLET MY PRWRTY PRINCESS

ohhhhhh I missed the title cards 🥹🥹

"drudges" remember what they took from you

ciels "target acquired" ass look when McMillan mentions the tea party ajbsksbdidj

McMillan the puppy that you are

what the fuck is wrong with these students omg

also why are the all either blonde or brunet and sitting next to eachother in pairs of 2

"are we little girls in cliques?" I mean if the dress fits 💀💀💀

stay away from the emo kids 📝📝📝

cheerio GOD

THE POSE AKNSNDKD

oooooooooh the eye is so pretty

OOOOOOOOOOOH SEBASTIAN IS SO PRETTY

I love love love that they feminized him it does wonders for my little lesbian heart

his eyes are so pretty ooooouggh

🦋🦋🦋 <- in my tummy

godddd he's so pretty in the dress

WHAT IS ERONG WITH THESE STIFENTS

DOTN GO NEAR THE GOTH KIDS 📝📝📝📝📝

CHESLOOOOOOCKKKKKKKKKK

cheslock I am in deep romantic love with you

my poor boy he's been jumped like 3 times and it's his second day

make that 4

Sebastian's smug ass fuckin smile I love that he always finds ways to get in ciels way by doing EXACTLY what he's told

ciel I'm gonna kill you what the fuck is that pose

"senpai" I'm dead 💀💀💀

"kawaii boya" 😭😭😭😭😭

but fuck the queen fr like why don't you just fucking walk down there yourself and ask

fuck ur cousin lady

wait don't she's a royal she might actually 💀💀

godddd Sebastian's do prettyyyy

ciel is also really pretty my baby princess I love you

Sebastian's eyelashes go hardf

.THEHAIR SRTIP FALLING

ooooh ending time

ohhhhh the windows for the p4 are so pretty!!!!!

oh the style is different it's so lovely

FALLING FROM THE FUCKING SKY??????

romance is real

ohhhh pretty sky

SWBASTIAN FLYING WITH HIM ROMANCE IS REAL??????

oh god oh god oh god I was going to post this to main but it has to go sideblog now

actually fuckit

it goes main anyways

falling through the sky in the sunset together be so fucking fr with me

ohhhhhh the ed is so pretty gofdd

[aringofsalt]

56!

(+ steddie, mentioned in another ask)

thank you!!! this one was fun haha i hope you enjoy 💕

56 | FALL OUT BOY - THE PINK SEASHELL

So I take pleasure in the detail, you know

It starts small.

It may even start before he notices it.

The first one he notices is a tiny wooden baseball bat on a keychain. It’s not something he would’ve bought for himself; it’s definitely not something his parents would’ve bought for him, or themselves. It’s sitting on his dresser, behind a crumpled-up shirt that had been there for longer than he cared to admit, and under it is a little post-it note that just says YOURS IS COOLER in scratchy block letters.

The handwriting isn’t Robin’s, or Dustin’s, or Nancy’s; and that’s pretty much the end of the list of people whose handwriting Steve knows by heart, so he shrugs, sticks the note to his mirror, and pockets the keychain.

He puts it on his keys the next morning, and it makes him smile every time he sees it.

The little gifts continue, and they don’t always have notes. There’s a little silver thimble one day the following week, with a single yellow flower bud in it; the following morning there’s a chocolate bar left on his windshield with a note that just says EAT UP. He finds a little pink seashell sitting on his windowsill one evening, practically glowing in the sunset. Another week passes and he’s cleaning up a few hours after a D&D session to find one of their little painted minis. This in itself isn’t weird, but this one has SIR STEVE scrawled on the bottom, and it’s a clearly heroic figure wielding a mace—thanks, Dustin, for the vocabulary—and posed like he’s rushing into danger. It has a more than passing resemblance to him, too, the hair and the eyes, and the armour painted in Hawkins green and gold. This trinket, more than any of the previous ones, gives him a hint to who may be leaving the little gifts, and he hopes he’s right as he jumps in the car, figurine still clutched in his hand.

He drives straight to Eddie’s.

It’s getting dark by the time he gets there, Eddie’s porch light a beacon in the night. The door swings open as he’s setting foot on the stairs, Eddie stepping out to lean casually on the doorframe.

“Sir Steve! To what do I owe the honour of your presence?”

“Well, funny you should mention Sir Steve,” he said, holding up the mini. Eddie stared at it, then snapped his eyes back to Steve’s.

“Um, look, I’m sorry, that’s probably weird, I can get rid of it—”

“Dude, no, if you think I’m giving this up you’re crazy,” Steve laughs. “I love it. But. It was you, leaving the other stuff too, wasn’t it?”

“Yeee-eees?” Eddie drawls out, clearly unsure what reaction he should be having. Steve can practically see the mental battle he’s having over whether to apologise again or turn it into a big joke.

“I liked the seashell,” he blurts out, before Eddie’s expression can fall any further. “I mean, I liked all of them, drove me nuts trying to recognise the handwriting, but. They were all pretty cool. I just… I just don’t get why.” He takes a step forward, emboldened when Eddie doesn’t step back. Why did you do something so nice for me is what’s flying through his head, unsaid, but he can tell Eddie sees the question anyway.

“Because you deserve it,” Eddie tells him quietly. “It’s something stupid my dad used to do for my mom when I was a kid. He always said that life is meaningless anyway, you know, you should take pleasure in little things. He’d find the most random things that made him think of her and leave them around the house for her to find. And you always do stuff for other people so,” he shrugs, “I wanted to do something for you.”

“Oh,” Steve breathes. Eddie grins back, then holds up a finger.

“Hold on, I had the next thing already, may as well give it to you in person now.”

He disappears down the hall, leaving Steve to his own devices for a minute, the sounds of clattering and shuffling papers and muttered curses flying as he searches. It only takes him a moment and then he’s back, holding a fist out, dropping the object into Steve’s waiting palm.

It’s a guitar pick, the twin of the one Eddie always wears around his neck, but instead of red and black, the one in Steve’s hand is swirled in yellow and white. Eddie’s fingers linger, tracing the contours of the pick and brushing Steve’s skin.

Steve closes his own fingers, trapping Eddie’s hand in his, smiling when the other man blinks owlishly in surprise.

“Thank you,” he says quietly. “It’s perfect.”

—

send me a number 1-100 and a character/ship and i’ll write you a mini fic 💕 original post

[7cakerolls]

ctto !!

love for the mighty warrior.

pairing: neteyam x fem! omaticaya reader (part two- final part!) part 1

outgoing reader (usually), it girl of the clan, arranged marriage

prompt: you were the girl in the clan that showed the most promise from a young age, so of course you were going to be mated with toruk makto’s firstborn son. but you wanted to marry for love and could never be with him… or so you thought.

the days went by quickly as you grew to know neteyam. he was a lovely person with a steadfast heart. and he held true to his word, not interfering with your wishes to become a warrior. his grandmother and your mother got along very well, as they both wanted you to learn how to be a healer as well, believing that multifaceted women were strong.

suddenly, the idea of becoming tsahík, and in turn his mate, did not seem so bad. “neteyam.” you called out. “please help me mount my ikran. i must hunt to prepare dinner for our conjoined families!” you said, with a tinge of excitement. something about your families combining gave you a sense of hope, even if you did not realize it.

“of course, ma (yn). would it be okay for me to come along?” he asked gently, as he put what he was working on away to come assist you. the way that he would hurriedly drop everything for you made your heart flutter. it felt good for someone other than your mother to have your best interests at heart.

“hmm, okay!” you agreed. “but the last one there has to carry all of it back!!” you squealed, racing off on your trusty ikran, making tsaheylu. you waved at him from the clouds and sped away. being with him made you feel like yourself again, regaining your competitive spirit. soon, you saw him behind you, dodging trees and other clan members that were flying, smiling at you with excitement.

you landed atop your agreed upon meeting spot, dismounting and standing in a victory pose. not soon after, he joined you, looking mockingly defeated. “this race was not fair, you see. you started way before me!” he complained, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “well… headstart or not… it looks like i won!!” you said happily.

“but (yn)… i would’ve carried it back anyways… no need to hurt my pride with a stupid race!” he said, slumping over your shoulder. you simply pat his back knowingly, comforting him for what you had him do. “ohh, poor baby! does ‘teyam not like losing!?” you said, giggling as he sighed and walked over to get his hunting supplies.

as you went to get yours, you heard him grumble about how it was “unfair” and that he would “get you next time”. such a silly boy, but even as he sulked he was beautiful to you. you see, you had realized your feelings for the boy a long while ago, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything to him yet. the time was not right.

“well, ma ‘teyam, meet me back here just before sunset so we can leave together.” you said, skipping away, excited to hunt for the first time in a while. since you’ve been busy with all the preparations of becoming tsahík, you didn’t have time for your first love anymore. hunting.

as you heard the thwip of the last arrow, knowing you had caught enough, you went to go retrieve your arrows and carry back all your catches. it seemed you were the first to arrive, so as you strapped your gear to your ikran, you decided to pray to eywa about guidance on your feelings.

“oh eywa, please direct me on what to do. you see, i have finally fallen for him. but i am scared. how does it feel to lose yourself to someone completely? what if he does not feel the same and is only doing this for his people? how could i blame him for that..?” you monologued, not hearing the crunches of the leaves from someone coming up behind you.

finally, you completed your prayer and opened your eyes, looking around to see him. shocked, you jolted and leaned back against a tree, hoping he hadn’t heard all that. “(yn)… i… feel the same.” he said, looking at you with love-filled eyes. you let out a small gasp, finally feeling it was the right moment.

“neteyam, i… i see you.” you said confidently, finally being sure of your feelings. maybe this was the gift that eywa had provided you with. “i see you too, ma (yn), but i think you already knew that.” he said with a grin as he leaned in to press his forehead to yours. “may i?” he asked, looking down at your mouth and then back up to your eyes. he never lost his gentlemanly touch, even in moments like this. “of course.” you said, leaning up to press a small kiss to his smiling lips.

you two stayed in each other’s embrace for a while, until you looked up and noticed that the sun had set already. “oh eywa, we have to go! it’s late already!!” you said, hurriedly rushing the boy up and on to his ikran. even he knew the one thing you hated was to keep your mother waiting, so he let it go. he knew you two would have more moments like this to come, especially now that you had opened up to him.

you quickly flew back, excitedly thinking about the stories that you would tell your mother about your confession to neteyam. he flew up to you, noticing your dazed look, and shouted over to you. “hey! i never thought i would find a warrior mightier than i, but… here you are! i see you, yawne. thank you for finally letting me in.” he said, with happy tears jerking at his eyes.

you got flashbacks to the day you met, and noticed all the signs even then. he was truly perfect for you. you threw him a smile and began doing brilliant tricks in the air, all while your ikran chirped and squeaked happily. you did love the mighty warrior, and you were lucky to have him as yours.

-mini time skip-

“mama… today has been a beautiful day.” you remarked as you laid in your mother’s gentle arms. she simply hmm’ed, already having an idea of what you meant. she had already seen all the lovesick glances you gave him, even if you didn’t realize it. she knew, well before you did, and was proud of her daughter for coming to terms with it herself.

“i think it is time for us to mate before eywa.” you stated proudly. you were sure of yourself and ready, finally feeling restored to your former glory. now that you had a wonderful man beside you, and your headstrong personality, you knew that this was the right choice. your mother cooed and held your face in her hands, realizing that her daughter had finally grew up. ‘my child has grown to be so mighty…’ she thought, but only showed her teeth in a proud grin and embraced you.

but you had more than just your mother now. you had him as well, and you were sure that things would be good with him by your side.

taglist: @gardenofvows @ilovejakesullysdick @neteyamforlife (thank you for enjoying the story!!)

[lovesosweeet]

better left unsaid // cth

chapter forty six

in which orion has leukemia, and calum doesn’t know.

calum hood x fem!oc

read other chapters // read on AO3

january 22, 2019 madrid, spain orion

The flight to Madrid feels like it takes forever. I’m excited to go back, and based on how much Calum is checking his email, he must have a lot of things planned for us. I wish he didn’t, because I doubt I’ll be able to do more than a few things each day. I’m just too tired. 

My doctors connected me with a hospital and a doctor in the city just in case I need to see one. They’ve got my records and everything and, while I can speak Spanish, Calum can’t, so we made sure to choose a facility with translators and bilingual staff. I doubt we will need to, since the past few months have been fairly uneventful. I just feel like shit, but nothing is changing.

We both have had to wear face masks from the moment we left for the airport, which feels silly, but Dr. Gupta said that if I’m in any kind of high traffic area, it’s vital that I do my best to protect myself. Although, it is a bit helpful for camouflaging Calum. With half his face covered and a hat on his head, you can barely tell him apart from another man of his height with brown hair. 

Ilse and Giuseppe are flying in to Madrijd later on in the week to see us, and I’m so excited to get to see them, along with the other girls. I’m sad that we won’t get to do a lot of the things that we used to. We can’t go out anywhere to do pretty much anything. I’m really grateful to be here, but I don’t feel like Calum will be able to do anything here that we wouldn’t do at home. 

Since we won’t be taking the metro, in an effort to keep me away from germs and sickness, Calum is renting a car here, so we’ll be able to drive around to everything. For his birthday, we’ll be driving to Valencia for a night so we can see the beach here.

When we land, Calum makes me pose under the “Bienvenidos a Madrid” sign, and I hope I don’t look as tired as I am in the photo. I’m trying not to act like it, but I really just want to go to sleep. We came all this way, and all I really want to do is hole up in our hotel room. 

“Want to stop somewhere for some tapas and a glass of tinto?” Calum asks when we get our bags into the rental car and take our seats.

I look over at him. He has excitement written all over his face. His brown eyes are gold and sparkling, his smile endearing, and I can’t say no. “Sure, sounds good.”

I do my best to smile. I want him to enjoy this trip. It’s for his birthday, after all. I can’t ruin it by being too tired to do anything, so I swallow the feeling of wanting to go straight to the hotel and try to take in Madrid as we enter the city. In my heart, it feels so good to be back. 

We get to a small bar in La Latina that has a patio and Calum can’t stop smiling while we sit at the small metal table. He reads over the menu, even though he undoubtedly already knows what we’ll order and can barely understand the rest of what he sees. 

“So, I was thinking,” he starts, reaching across the table to grab my hand. “Oh, wow, your hand is freezing!” 

He holds both of them now, rubbing them to try to warm them up. I smile at his sweetness, but raise my eyebrows for him to continue. 

“We get some food, head to the hotel and take a nap, and then we can go to a convenience store to get some wine and stuff and then we can head to Retiro to watch the sunset?”

I nod. “Yeah, sounds perfect.” 

He has me order for us when the waiter comes since my Spanish is far better than his. They bring us our drinks and food quickly, and Calum is taking on my role as obsessive photographer and says he needs photos of everything. He even makes me ask the server to take a picture of the two of us, something he has never done before in his life. 

With Calum watching on, I do my best to sip from my jarra of tinto and eat a few of the fried potatoes he ordered for me. It’s obvious that I can’t stomach much, though, and it makes me feel bad. I feel bad physically, obviously, but I’m already worried about how this whole trip will go. I’m not going to be a fun partner. 

“Lucia and Paula said they’re up for breakfast tomorrow,” Calum says, breaking my staring contest with my patatas bravas when I look up at him instantly.

I smile. “Cool, that will be great, Cal.” 

He smiles back and nods before he pulls out his phone and types something in. When it’s face down on the table again, he looks straight back at me. “I know you may not be able to do much while we’re here. I know you’ve been really tired and sick for a while, so please just tell me if you ever need a break or anything, okay? Don’t over exert yourself. We’re here to do whatever you want to do.”

For some reason, that makes my heart drop.

“We’re here for your birthday, Cal,” I say. My tone is quiet. He just said what I should want to hear, but I don’t feel any better after he’s said it. 

I want him to look back on this trip fondly. This is one of our last things we’ll ever do together possibly. After everything I’ve put him through, can I ruin this, too? 

“I’ll have other birthdays,” he says.

My stomach lurches. I could throw up.

He realizes what he’s said, and I practically watch his mouth dry and the gears in his brain whir. I know he has no idea what to say, and I don’t expect him to. He’s not wrong. He will have other birthdays. He will have almost an entire lifetime of birthdays after this.

Without me. 

I sigh, clear my throat, and refrain from crying. 

“I know.”

next part

a/n: hi !!!!!!! lil baby update. ty for your patience as I've taken a break from BLU! check out the other two shorter fics I've written in the meantime if you'd like! they're both very different from BLU and each other but are only 10 parts each and ofc about cal. check my masterlist here if you need some new material :)

[haemocyaninz]

More Marcy drawings for the ppl who voted for me to post these :)

[Image ID: 2 digital drawings of Marceline Abadeer from Adventure Time. She differs from her original design in that she has afro textured hair and darker skin.

Image 1: In a rectangle in the center of the image is clouds and the gradient of a sunset. Over this in the left top corner is a screen shot of Marceline leaning back and singing and playing her axe guitar in a yellow hat, red tank top, high waisted jeans, and long yellow gloves. Over the rectangle is the drawing of Marceline in the same pose, this time with long locs. She is outlined in cyan with broken hearts over her head. To the top right are the words “NOT UR PROBLEM” with 2 music notes.

Image 2: In a pink rectangle in the center of the image is the rays of the sun beaming down on 3 drawings of Marceline. Over laying it is a distorted green grid. The left and middle drawings wear the same outfit of a short purple dress, red longs socks, and loafer shoes. Both of their hair is locs tied in a messy bun to the back of the head. The left most picture of Marcy is her looking upward while flying away. In the middle is Marcy posed liked shes about to ascend as she smiles and looks down. The right most drawing is of Marceline in a pink t shirt with a do not smoke sign on it and shorts with her afro hair flowing behind her. She stands looking blankly forward. The area outside the rectangle is dark green. ./End ID.]

[yisony07]

Masked Zoo - Version B: A zoo tale

Thanks to @otimask for the masked drawing.

It lay there in the enclosure, among the grass and brush near the lake, as if it had appeared out of nowhere. It had probably fallen from the heavens, although it was impossible to know its exact origin, the mask was just there, camouflaged with the green of the grass and the dim light of the almost sunset. It was just a mask, an object so apparently simple that it couldn't cause anything strange, right?

A growl could be heard followed by the sound of the water being removed. On the coast, a crocodile had emerged from the water to receive the last rays of the sun to manage its own temperature. He had moved a few meters from the shore, near the area with grass; he was just there, still. Suddenly, he noticed a light that came behind small bushes. He was unable to distinguish whether it was the smell of food or a threat that should be separated, but he quickly approached the origin of the light. However, being there, he noticed how something hit his face.

It was the mask, which had taken advantage of his approach to jump to his head.

It had not taken long, the crocodile had no way to free itself from its grip and was wrapped in a tornado of its size that revolved around the shore, with its grunts being drowned by the gusts of wind caused by its turn. The tornado stopped, and the crocodile before was there, although with different details... His eyes were red, and the area of his head was a bright green mask. He seemed to feel happy, he seemed to be happy.

His vision was increased, his eyes looked everywhere; his tongue stretched out as if by magic towards a bunch of insects that were flying towards a garbage can, she caught them and immediately swallowed them. Then he readied his legs and took off running all over the compound, even running on the water. It seemed like a way to feel freedom while in confinement. He thought, somehow, of what was beyond the walls of his enclosure, since he had grown up in the zoo, and he ran to the wall. However, something in his new powers didn't agree completely with that, so when he reached it, he collided painfully, and whatever had caused the greening on his head tore loose from him and flew away. The crocodile almost passed out, confused, with stars spinning around him while his body was there.

His mask had gone flying and landed in an enclosure far away from where he was, where a peculiar scene was taking place between a trio of chimpanzees, two males and one female. The female was undecided, but she seemed to favor the taller and stronger one, and they both backed away from the third, thin little chimpanzee.

He sadly kept his head down until he came across the mask, which despite his expressionless face, with those holes, seemed to have been a witness. The chimpanzee turned it over curiously, and the mask gave off a glow. The chimpanzee brought his face closer and the mask jumped onto his face. It was more subtle than the first time: the mask encircled his head, conforming to his features, changing color and texture to become a second skin. The chimpanzee, smiling and feeling a renewed confidence, accompanied his new appearance with a hat, though how he knew it existed was doubtful.

The chimpanzee extended his arms and reached for the couple, with other chimpanzees around them. Immediately, from his hat emerged a small jar of ice cream with fruits and flowers that looked appetizing, which he placed near her, who ate it eagerly. Seeing the chimpanzee with new eyes (especially since he had grown stronger, since the masked chimpanzee was posing), she tried to approach him, but he pushed her away, moving her out of the way, heading instead for the tall chimpanzee for the sake of doing "dirty things" with him. The female, offended, took a branch and stuck it behind his head. Strangely, that was enough for the mask to come off his face and fly away. The little chimpanzee stayed there, confused, although the bigger one would take away his doubts and make him feel other things...

The mask went flying through the air. If it weren't for the fact that it was an animated object, anyone could say that it was analyzing the rooms that could be seen from that height, as if it were planning where to fall. The mask "noticed" a person, a zookeeper, walking by, so it headed towards him. However, a pigeon flew past, and its trajectory was modified, landing in the tiger enclosure, specifically on an unnoticed tiger that was sleeping peacefully away from the others. The mask woke him up and the tiger roared, but he couldn't do anything, the mask had covered his head.

Braxton had had a tough but fun day. He had been leading many visits to the zoo, so he felt very tired. He had his things in a backpack on his side and was walking towards the door, where his husband would look for him to pick him up and go home together. Braxton was walking with his cell phone in hand when he heard the roar.

"Was… was that a tiger?" he wondered, worried and nervous. He was the only one there, because he had to close. He took his cell phone and sent a message to his husband.

You better go inside to the tiger enclosure, because something arose.

Then Braxton hurried to the scene. The tigers were his favorite animal, so he wanted the best for them and always took special care for them. He went to the employee access doors and, opening it, he found what he thought had caused the ruckus.

"What the h… is going on?!" Braxton asked, looking at the tiger in surprise. It was one of the ones he personally cared for since it was born at the zoo. He was nervous, as the tiger seemed to growl uncontrollably until it directed its reddish eyes at him.

The tiger rushed towards him at high speeds. Braxton expected an impact, but it didn't come. On the contrary, the tiger rubbed his head with his body, showing affection for him, just like a cat. Braxton hesitated, but then he stroked the green fur of the tiger, which swished its tail like a dog with such rapidity that it caused strong gusts. There he realized that there was something different between the skin of the head and the rest of the body. Intrigued, he tugged at the apparent edge, and in an instant, the mask solidified in his hand. Braxton didn't know what was going on, how a mere mask had done that to the tiger. Braxton saw the tiger and realized that he fell asleep, so he made sure that he was safe and sound.

Then, Braxton noticed the mask as he left the compound. He didn't remember seeing it anywhere and he didn't know if he had an owner. He turned it over and caught a glimpse of a greenish glow on the back of the mask.

"What is this?" he whispered to himself, intrigued by such a strange object. Then he remembered what the tiger looked like. "If I put it on… will something like this happen to me?"

He returned his gaze to the mask and slowly brought it closer until he could feel the wood against his face. The wood was a little warm and with some tiger hair on it, but Braxton didn't care, he moved it to make it more comfortable for his face.

It was a sudden attack!

The mask had come alive and extended its edges in the form of tentacles in order to expand with a speed such that Braxton could not think clearly, only felt panic, and did his best to try to take off the mask. Between the struggle, unintentionally, Braxton breathed some tiger hairs and swallowed others, so he coughed, giving the mask the opportunity to cover his head, and immediately Braxton became wrapped in a tornado that jumped around the place.

Another person was approaching, a man of similar age to the zoo caretaker, who was walking in a hurry in search of his husband towards the tigers' compound when he ran into the tornado in the middle of its whirling. The tornado stopped in front of him and revealed a rather peculiar figure, with a strangely attractive and intriguing aura that made the man not take his eyes off him.He was human, well, humanoid at best since he has a tail, but all of his entire body was covered with an orange yellow fur with black stripes except for the lower area of his arms and his torso. The man felt his cheeks warm. Although the strangest thing was the head of the figure, which was like a crazy human tiger, with a little orange fur that simulated his hair, big red eyes, a huge bright smile with fangs... and the bright, soft, rubbery green fur.

The figure was there, admiring himself, feeling the energy run throughout his being. The man did not know what to think, until he noticed his clothes, and recognized those of his husband.

"It can't be... Braxton...?" The man managed to ask. The figure nodded, gave him a smile and posed for him.

"Oh this is great!!" the figure yelled with such force that everything around it was pushed slightly. "Do you like what you see, Darry?" He posed more, as he took pleasure in the look that Darry, his husband (who confirmed his identity due to the way he called him), was giving him. "Did the cat eat your tongue? Because I would like to be the one to eat you, baby…". Masked Braxton leaped and landed near Darry. Darry had fallen to the ground, and Braxton was standing over him with a leering look and a ready-to-attack pose.

Darry was stunned, his mind was not processing many things. Braxton was about to remove his shirt, but a lightbulb went on over his head.

"How foolish of me! How am I able to enjoy this on my own?" Braxton lifted Darry's body and took a long ribbon from his pocket with which he quickly wrapped his body without resistance. Wrapping it up, he yanked on one end and Darry began to spin around the place.

When he stopped, Darry could see that he had turned into an anthropomorphic tiger just like Braxton, only with gray fur and blue eyes. Braxton's heart, when Braxton saw the new Darry, was pounding so hard it could be seen, and Braxton went up to him and kissed him passionately, both spitting everywhere, running their hands through each other's fur and their tails wagging with excitement. while the couple engaged in a battle of tongues, maintaining lip contact as if it were necessary to live. The emotion of the kisses and the heat of their bodies led certain members to harden.

"As much as I'd like to, we can't give animals a show, so let's go, shall we?" Braxton lifted Darry up and carried him bridal style and, kissing him, rushed in the direction of his house, ready to consummate his relationship with his new forms.

The next day they will discover that those ways only hold as long as Braxton has the mask on, but in the meantime, passion and love (with a dash of madness) will guide the couple's night.

A/N: Hi, there! hope you like the story, if you want to like it and comment on it I'll appreciate it! What do you think about this furry one, such a new topic for me but maybe it will come often. See ya! 💚

[kismetmoon]

“All that I want is a pair of wings to fly, into the blue of the wide open sky.

Show me your scars, I’ll show you mine.

Perched out of the city on a pair of power lines”.

[ID: a digital painting of an original, stylised Flatland character named Pollux Codex.

Pollux is a blue hexagon with black limbs, two white and greyish-blue wings coming from his sides, a single eye in the centre of his body and a dark blue line along his bottom edge and right side.

He is posed as though floating in midair, his wings extended out behind him and his legs hanging down. His hands are held out in front of his body, with his left arm reaching out closer to the viewer than his right and both palms facing upwards. His eye is closed in a gentle expression.

The background is a sunset fading from burnt orange to pale yellow going from the bottom to the top of the image. There are some clouds around the edges and the sun is above Pollux, between his wings. There are power lines beneath him at the bottom of the image.

End ID.]

of course for @2d-dreams, with everyone’s favourite homosexual hexagon :D

also a close-up shot that i really like the framing of under the cut because why not

[ID: a close up of the above image, with Pollux’s body and wings shown in full - but the surrounding background has been cut out of frame. End ID.]

[reyesstrand]

six/seven sentence sunday

thank u @iboatedhere and @strandnreyes for the tag!! <3

After the wedding, TK feels like he's floating.

The unbridled joy bubbles up out of him whenever he thinks about it: standing together under the chuppah on the beautiful, sprawling grounds of the ranch at sunset; the way he and Carlos shared a private smile during their first dance under the stars, no doubt thinking of TK’s lack of rhythm they’d discovered so long ago on the floor of the honky tonk. And of course, the way they'd ducked away halfway through the reception, pressing fleeting kisses wherever they could reach, tasting of sweet mocktails and happy tears and bright, unfiltered laughter. They'd been pulled around all day, to sign paperwork and twirl around with their friends and pose for photos and engage in quiet conversations with older relatives, and they'd been desperate for this: a moment alone, to bask in the fact that this was real, that they were married.

Something had bloomed between them there—as TK slipped his hands under Carlos' silk shirt just to seek out the heat of his skin, his head tilted back against the wall so Carlos could press his mouth against his pulse point—something that was practically alive as they revelled in the promise of a future, together.

Maybe marriage has him only seeing the good in the world—maybe he's still in a perpetual state of lovesickness, one he’ll be in forever—but it seems like everything goes too well as they transition from the wedding itself to their twelve days of seemingly never-ending, overlapping shifts to the night before their honeymoon, where they’re packed and they'd soon fly away to Mexico for a blissful week to themselves.

no-pressure tagging @terramous @sunshinestrand @tailoredshirt @maxbegone @paper-storm @marjansmarwani @marwani-strickland @beautifulhigh @cinnaluminum and anyone else who wants to do this!! <3