#get wrecked clay

[blade-that-was-broken]

"There is someone here," Branch grumbled.

"Do you think they are Bergens?"

"Probably not. Bergens don't really wait and watch to attack. They just grab."

"Even if it isn't," Holly added. "We'll be gone before they open tomorrow."

"Right," Darnell agreed. It wasn't even five minutes later that the silence set in. "Does anyone...?"

"Feel like we are being watched?" Holly finished. "Yeah."

"WHAT ARE YOU D-"

"Circle up!" Branch barked and his friends did, covering each other's backs and flanks, forming some semblance of a circle. Each of them brought up their hands or other small weapons for defense. "Show yourself!"

"What are you?!" The booming voice repeated.

"Not until you show yourself!"

"Are you... trolls?"

"I'm not tell you anything. You could be a Bergen!"

Distantly, someone screamed.

"I'm not...what?"

"We aren't looking for trouble. We are just passing through," he added, confidently.

"You passed on sacred grounds!" the voice tried to sound spooky but he could hear the tremble and awkwardness.

"This is an amusement park, newsflash!" Branch snapped.

"Branch, my dude, don't antagonize," Darnell muttered.

"Wait... Branch?" another, different, voice echoed.

"Biscuits and Gravy," Holly yelped, pulling Branch in and closing him behind all of them. "Inside."

"Wait..." Branch tried but he was pushed inside the circle, his friends protecting him on all sides.

"You won't touch him!" Synth yelled to the void.

"Wait! No!" the voice shifted. "I'm a troll too! He's... he's my brother! I'm his brother!"

Wait what?

"What?"

Branch pushed his way through the group. A troll in a green sweater romper and crazy green hair, stared, wide-eyed. "Branch?" B moved forward but Holly stepped in front of him.

"Whoa there, cowboy. We..."

"That's my baby brother!"

"Not a baby," he grumbled.

"Your name?" Darnell asked.

"Branch, c'mon. Tell..."

"You're name," Darnell insisted. Branch let him.

"Clay," he finally said. "Bitty B, who are these...?"

"It's Branch," he replied, flatly. "Not Bitty B or any childish nicknames you gave when I was a baby. Just Branch."

Clay paused and nodded. "Uh... okay, yeah. Wow... you're... taller?"

"That's what happens. People grow over sixteen years."

"Who are these people?"

"My friends."

"What are they?"

"Excuse me?" Holly snorted.

"They're trolls, obviously."

"They look... different?"

"Well yeah, they are different types of trolls."

"Types?"

"I don't think he knows about the other genres," Minuette frowned.

Branch paused. "Maybe not."

"Dude, I have so many questions."

"I imagine."

"How did you know where to find me?"

"I didn't know you were here. We're just passing through to get back."

"Get back? Like home?"

"Yes? There's..."

"Wait? So other trolls survived?"

"What?"

"Have you seen my sister?" another troll ran up next to Clay. She looked familiar.

"Why would I have seen your sister?"

"You're with the other trolls, right? More survived the escape?"

"The escape? What escape? I have no idea what you're talking about."

Clay stared. "What do you mean? Didn't you escape the troll tree during the escape?"

"Trolls escaped the tree?" Branch asked, surprised.

"Wait... Branch, how do you not know about this?"

"Branch lives in Country Territory," Holly piped in as Branch mulled this over. So there had been an escape and Clay knew about it. Which meant he was probably at the Tree. There and Branch spent the entire time thinking he was gone. He frowned. Holly continued. “We don't really know about other pop trolls."

Clay looked akin to horrified. “Where have you been?”

Branch didn’t say anything. Everywhere.

[stupidsexygrizzop]

Essek “i have a yard” Thelyss i want to study you like an insect

[chaoticturtledream]

“My child is fine” sir your child spend several hours last night researching how to make tiny working instruments out of clay and random household items

[writingoddess1125]

You Give them Face Mask! 🧼

Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, Usopp, Buggy, Mihawk

Fluffy Fluff

Just felt like more Fluff Fluff rn 😌 Enjoy!

Luffy

Trying to get this man into a face mask is like trying to wash a puppy- A happy struggle and pain in the ass.

"Luffy please" You say with a sad eyes- He will fold after this and let you. However he doesn't sit still so you use a sheet mask that simply helps with oily skin.

"This smells nice" He will say as you have to bribe him with snacks to keep it on for 15 minutes.

"It's rose scented" You say and wear one yourself to keep him still with some gummy candies. Will have trouble sitting still and will start chatting and walking in circles as he waits.

Once it's over he rubs his shiny face and talks about how squeaky he sounds. Utterly destroying your work-

Sanji

Sanji is more then willing to indulge you. Picking out some mild scents and you do a peel off mask since he has deep pores.

"Wanna do the charcoal mask?" You offer which he accepts after finding the scent pleasant enough.

"Do people do these often?" He will flirt and talk about the curiosities in your self care. Once the mask is done he will complain about the tightness.

"That means it's ready to peel!!"

"AHHH! OW!!?" He yelps in surprise as you pull the mask off his face. His face bright red and raw from this so you add some water based moisturizer to his face. You show him the mask.

"That was in my face!?"

Will both be disgusted and fascinated by the amount of gunk pulled from his skin.

Zoro

His skin is fairly flawless which is honestly frustrating since he cares so little for his skin.

You offer the face mask anyway and he refuses for a while bit does eventually fold. You use a snail slime mask on him since it will keep him skin looking flawless.

"This smells funny..." He grumbles as he will lay there listening to you talk, Half asleep and waiting. Will open his eye occasionally and ask a few questions about your interest in this stuff.

You wipe it off and help him rince his face. Skin is pretty much glowing at this point and You stare in awe. "So pretty!"

"I'm going to go train now-" You scream at him in protest in trying to ruin his pretty face.

Usopp

Usopp is willing of course, since the ocean air drys his skin quite a lot. So you use a shea butter face mask and tap his skin with your fingers to help it soak in his rough skin.

"You know I once got a spa treatment from Mermaids like this-' He will spin his tales as You work. When you do rince off the mask you add some nice skin oils afterwards to his skin.

You rub a lot of oil in his skin and he will pause his stories as he judt enjoys the time. Will smell the jar you're using and a softness will run over his face in fondness.

"This smells like the stuff my mother used to use-" He will say with a smile. His skin looks shiny and golden by the time your done, making him look sexy- in his own words.

Will come back regularly to have you treat his skin and will even talk about stories with his mother from time to time.

Buggy

Grease paint wrecks havoc on one's skin Buggys especially since he wears it so much. Needs some detoxing clay mask then a aloe moisture one to replenish. If you're doing his face might as well deep condition his hair as well.

He does enjoy the attention and doing them since his face feels better. Secretly he actually has acne marks from his youth and some scars from before he ate a devil fruit.

"What was this one from?" You ask pointing to a light scar on his cheek.

"Hmm 10- Me and Shanks were trying to figure out blades better. Let's say I learned knives can bounce back at you-" He says amused and letting you work.

"The skin around your nose is dry" Buggy will frown, thinking you're about to insult him since even though he trust you the most his insecurities will win- till you carefully paint the mask on those areas and smile proudly.

"There we go, all better" You say and kiss his hand to go apply your own.

Will sit and listen to you read outloud or talk with him about show ideas as he lays there with the face mask.

"Can we do this every night?"

Mihawk

"No-" He will protest, his eyes narrowing as you offer the mask to him. However after enough begging and ever Perona joining in at pestering him he will fold.

Mihawk gets treated to a full spa day when this happens- A hydrating honey facemask on his skin, cucumbers on his eyes and even a hair mask in his hair to make it softer.

Perona is overjoyed as well as she cleans his nails and applies clear polish to make them shiny and nice! Grumbles the whole time silently and ends up Downing a bottle of wine.

"Do not get used to this-" He grumbles as he takes his wine and drinks from it as you and Perona work. He kinda looks like a spa mom-

Once done this man looks runway ready- His hair is much softer so sets lower, his skin flawless and even his beard looks nicer. Stares at you and Perona deadpanned and sighs-

"Thank you both for the nice gesture..."

[actual-changeling]

i crave the emotional catharsis that would come with crowley taking care of his plans, in so much pain but swallowing it down and pretending it's not real, finally having the mental breakdown he deserves.

he's taking care of his plants, a detached look on his face, misting them and making sure they're all healthy and have enough space to grow. after he returned, he stopped talking to them for the most part. they welcomed him back, they had missed him—shax is not the nicest or most interesting company to keep—and now they're worried.

crowley sleeps, paces, mists his plants, gets drunk, and sleeps some more. everything to stop feeling. until he sees a leaf spot on one of them. a tiny imperfection, barely worth a shout, and yet.

a tremor works it way through him, his knees always giving out, and he presses one palm against the wall to keep himself upright. wave after wave of shame, bright and stabbing in the middle of his chest, reminds him why he left.

not good enough.

crowley had tried, someone knows he tried. it's hard to regain a soul, harder yet to shape it into something worth loving, someone worth living for, but he had tried.

his fingers curl around the pot and before he can stop himself he flings it across the room, listening to it shatter. can't even do that right, can he? can't raise fucking plans, can't keep his STUPID mouth shut, can't make him stay because who would want to be stuck with him forever? no one, that's who, and after six thousand years, aziraphale had seemingly reached his blessed limit and taken the first chance to leave.

another plant follows with a scream, dirt and broken stems covering the floor and staining the walls, and then another and another and another until he can fall to his knees amidst the ruins of his life.

clay shards are cutting his palms open as he doubles over, sobs wrecking through him like thunder, and his tears carve clean paths down his dirty hands.

"i tried," he whispers, voice hoarse from yelling, "i'm sorry, i tried."

crowley's wings unfurl with an almost silent gust of air, blacking out the sunlight streaming in. he drags himself to the nearest corner before wrapping his arms and wings around himself, and curling up as tightly as possible.

"i tried," he keeps breathing into feathers and fabric, "i tried, i tried, i tried."

over and over until his voice fails him and then some more. it is almost a lullaby, the words taking whatever is left of his heart and gently rocking it back and forth. crowley falls asleep like that, exhausted and broken and lonely. just as sleep pulls him under, he stops his repetition, his mouth shaping phrase after phrase.

for the very first time since his fall, crowley closes his eyes and prays.

[ronearoundblindly]

I am sorry but I'm going to need a Ransom story with this prompt. It can be RoaR or a one-off, he can love it or hate it in this space, he can see it over Reader's shoulder on the computer screen, your choice!

o.0 oh boi oh boi oh boi! Fall Vibes but it's gonna be my summer challenge submission to @the-slumberparty's Sundae Bar, featuring the flavors Cookies and Cream (soulmates) and Rocky Road (rags to riches) with the topping Oreos (marriage of convenience (reluctantly)). Also my second entry for @stargazingfangirl18's Birthday Bonenanza, featuring a babe in love and cranky about it + "can you just...hold me please?"

For Show Ransom Drysdale x poor!soulmate!reader

Summary: Ransom hates that you--his soulmate and wife--are nothing like him.

Warnings for smut and Ran's a**hole brain (rude, nasty thoughts that he barely even believes). Classic Lexi--this is cheeky, y'all, but you know it's because I can't help myself... MINORS DNI. Find all-age friendly fic on my Light Masterlist. WC 2.1k

Ran didn’t believe in love to start, but this is fucking ridiculous. Opposites attract? Get wrecked, asshole. He’s keeping opposites on the other side of the house. It’s not far enough.

It’s standard practice for the confirmation of matching soulmarks to act as a de facto marriage contract—common law, if you like,—and Ransom Drysdale fought tooth and nail to make you prove you had his name on you. He needed to see it with his own eyes or fuck that shit.

His is obvious; he can show it off. In fact, Ran is surprised by how long it took you to come forward, considering his family and status, considering his lifestyle of being very visible.

But no, he had to wait for a fucking database to pop out record of his match from your healthcare provider, and he had wait for that because the government knew about your health…because they know such things…about people who need their fucking money. The registration of soulmarks puts the financial responsibility on the soulmate if they end up having the means.

Now Ran is responsible for you, a woman he made lower the front of her panties in open court to reveal his goddamn name in his own goddamn handwriting imprinted right above her goddamn cunt, and suddenly it became his cunt, his problem, his responsibility.

You’re not even fun. You had no money and didn’t care to have any, so you moved your few, ratty belongings into his home, replacing nothing, offering nothing in return for his—well, in return for every fucking thing he has now being yours, too. It’s so fucked.

You don’t want to show off, and he has no intention of showing you off. He can’t be seen with you, not without the proper clothes or jewelry, and you refused to get them. Instead, Ransom leaves you alone in the house, doing whatever he wants, whenever he wants, as always. He won’t talk to you because he just gets furious every time. He’s not going to have deep conversations about the state of the world, though he might have one social justice issue he can fight for: the mother-fucking law that made you his wife without question.

Ran slams the kitchen cabinet storing all-white, matching stoneware mugs when he notices what’s missing: your single, sad, flea market mug. It’s clay so it always looks dirty, and he hates it.

He lightly punches his own neck in irritation.

He didn’t stand a chance fighting the marriage, not with your name in deep, port red letters creeping up his throat, higher than any turtleneck he’s ever owned. Coupled with his legal name resting snuggly beneath your pubes, it was obviously, technically accurate that you’re soulmates. When was the last time someone challenged that system, he thinks. That might be a better use of his money than—

Where are you anyway?

For all his annoyance, he hasn’t set eyes on you for days.

His house is large enough (and he spends so much time anywhere else) that you have your own room, which you didn’t question, and the kitchen is easy enough to share when one of you eats out with other people (as he does two to three times a day). You get the slightly bigger and more formal living room while Ran gets the den with the big TV. Really it’s been the perfect system for almost forgetting you exist.

He pours tea into his clean, white mug and leaves said big TV fairly loud on some program he wasn’t paying attention to, leaning over the granite countertop to see if he can spot you from this angle.

No luck.

He steps closer, sipping.

A little closer, more sipping, a purposeful smack of his lips to grab your attention if you are just around the corner.

There are two openings, both far larger than doorways, to the living room, each through the central hall. When he doesn’t immediately see you, he steps to the farther opening. What the—

What’d you do to his couch?

Is that every single pillow and blanket from your side of the house?

Did Yankee Candle Company throw up in here?

What, the fucking fireplace wasn’t enough ambiance for you? You had to make some sort of nest with his stuff? And there’s that ugly-ass mug, no coaster, on his super-expensive, reclaimed hardwood coffee table.

A pillow shifts.

No, not a pillow; it’s your back, and when you shift again, Ran sees one of the plush throw blankets slink farther down your bare skin. It’s the largest swath of your body he’s ever seen.

You lay with your arms folded, peering out the windows behind the couch, and you still haven’t fucking noticed him.

He huffs before realizing he isn’t listening to the faint TV anymore, but when he ticks his head, he sees your TV isn’t on either.

“”I think of nothing but you as I fall asleep at night”—” Ran hears a woman’s voice fake a deeper tone before switching to normal “—Javier says, pulling her soft curves into his hard body—”

You sigh dreamily and wiggle on the cushions. The blanket slides over the swell of your ass.

Ran stops moving mid-sip of tea.

“”Please, my darling, let me have you—“ this is fucking terrible, he thinks “—as only a lover can.””

Alright, now Ransom is just sad. You’re naked in his living room, rubbing your thighs together and listening to an erotic novel on your phone.

“Chloe felt his digits dance across her clavicle, his eyes enchanted by her heaving bosom…”

Go out to a club or restaurant with him? No. Wear nice clothes he could buy you? Nope.

“”Javi,” she gasps, distracted by his rough palm groping her breast hungrily, “I can’t believe you want me.””

Ran is going to fucking gag at the whining appall in the narrator’s voice.

Why listen to this awful shit instead of show off him as your husband? From the quick shiver racing down your spine and the curl of your toes where they hang over the cushion’s edge, it’s because you’re fucking horny for it.

Good god, how low are your standards?

He stalks forward, feet hitting the floor hard until he reaches the plush rug.

Startled, you peer over your shoulder at him, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights, and you begin scrambling to recover yourself.

Ran puts his cup down by yours. “Don’t move,” he orders, and to his surprise, you obey, keeping you head turned his direction and sinking back into the pillows.

“”How could you doubt? From the moment I met you, I adored you.””

He swivels to face the same direction as you, reaches out his hand and mime the stroke he’s contemplating tracing over your curves.

“”I’m yours,” Chloe breathes, Javier’s growing member signaling his desire against her silk-covered core.”

Ran finally bends until the tip of his middle finger grazes the inside of your thigh.

As he drags it over one cheek and down the other, you whine and push your ass toward his hand.

That’s…not bad, all things considered. You are his wife, after all, and you clearly want to be fucked. He won’t argue that having some other woman’s name scrawled on him hasn’t limited his game for quite a while. Financially independent or not, when a pussy is presented to him, Ransom will say ‘yes.’

He stops noticing the audio from your phone and just dives in, no sentiments or kind words of his own. He simply unbuckles his belt, pops the button of this jeans, and rips that zipper down before teasing your folds to find enough slick at your entrance to swirl around. He spreads you and your wetness with purpose. Each second that passes drives Ransom a little bit more insane.

Impatient, strung out like a virgin on prom night, he rushes to shove his pants out of the way and kicks one knee up between your legs, his other foot still on the floor. He pumps his fingers inside you until he’s knuckle-deep and nearly dripping, manhandling your hips to the right height to sink his tip into you.

Ran groans at how fucking good you feel. He’s probably just desperate. He’d be excited about any ol’ means to come right now.

He snaps his hips in small thrusts until his whole length glides in and out in seamless stimulation. You’ve buried your face in the pillow, so he can’t hear if you make any noise. He can, however, see your hands scratch at the upholstery and clench into fists. He can see you deepen the arch of your back, angling his dick to fuck just slightly down through your channel. The pressure squeezes the spongy head of his cock like a vice. He’ll never say it out loud, but your pussy is fucking perfect. God fucking dammit.

Ransom relentlessly drives into you, catching the sideview of your breasts bouncing each time his thighs slap yours. He smacks your ass once just to see if it jiggles for him, and that’s when your hand snakes to disappear between your legs. He expects you’re going for your clit which is good because he’s about to get off and get lost, but instead, he feels your soft fingers cup his balls.

He’s so enamored by the sensation that he switches to tiny pulses deep in your cunt while your hand wraps and rolls his sac gently. Twitching and tensing, Ran unabashedly moans until your walls constrict around his length.

He’s got to make you do that again.

Ransom collapses forward to lean over you, his own hand diving to find your clit, resting his palm right over your mound and soulmark. Every inch of his body burns hot with need. He humps wildly, resting his chin over your shoulder.

“”I don’t care how, Javi, just stick it in there. I need you. I need you so badly…””

“Jesus Christ,” Ran growls, “are they still not fucking?”

A giggle bursts from your lips, a sweet, happy sound he’s never heard from you before, and you reach for him. Your palm lands on his soulmark, your fingers curling to scratch the hairs at the nape of his neck, and there’s…there’s…

He can’t comprehend how your body fits his so well. He can’t reconcile this sudden swell of obsession in his gut for you. He’s enveloped in a binary system of souls, gravity tugging at that connection between you.

Ran doesn’t believe in love or destiny. He refuses. He believes in pleasure and perception, in accumulation and ownership.

The only thought left in his static-filled head is mine, mine, mine, mine.

He falls over the edge first, a satisfied shout punctuating each spurt he plants within you, furiously working your messy clit and kneading one breast in his free hand until he feels that squeeze again, and again, and again, dying to a flutter just as your shared cum leaks out around his cock.

By this time, Ran is panting and resting a sizable portion of his weight on you, knees knocked loose in his onslaught, pushing you both flat to the chaise cushion, feet dangling off the end.

You still hold each other’s mark in a comforting palm.

He’s speechless as the room fills with heated love declarations amidst passionate sex and bad dialogue. Ran tries to catch his fucking breath. He’s glad you don’t speak either.

Everything about his life—his past, his present, his future—sits utterly raw in front of him, and he can’t cope.

He makes the mistake of peeling his body off yours, releasing you and dislodging your hand. The cold emptiness which immediately sweeps over him is sickening, and Ran barely waits for you to roll onto your back before he wedges himself between your legs again, instinctually laying on his side, pressing his sweater-clad shoulder against your sopping folds just so he can rest his soulmark right on top of yours.

Euphoria returns to his body and mind, thick like honey and all-consuming.

He doesn’t want to admit it. He doesn’t want to talk about. He doesn’t want to live a moment without you.

Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.

Mercifully, the audio speaks for him.

“”Can you just…hold me please? That was…that was…””

“”So intense,” Javier rumbles, “so beautiful.””

Ransom, the preening trust fund baby, has finally found something all his own, something he doesn’t want to share, something shown only for him.

He refuses, however, to call it ‘love’…

…yet.

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

A/N: I'm fine.

[drewlyyours]

Nancy Drew Quotes That Haunt Me:

- “the older your father got, Joy, the more he realized that life was made up of memories. he realized that even bad memories have a place in a good life” (Miles the Magnificent Memory Machine - CAR)

- “they hung Dirk at noon. I thought I would be glad but I ain’t.”

“The Harrison’s Yellow which Frances said was her favorite flower in the world is just a pile of brown stix now. I don’t know how to look after delicate things like that so it is my fault that it died… I ain’t seen or heard from Frances in a year. I tell people she is on her way home but when I look in my heart I know this is a lie.” (Meryl Humber, SHA)

- “Some women with noses that would put birds of prey to shame are perfectly content with their appearance, while others with perfectly acceptable features are convinced they are more hideous than Frankenstein. Self image– it can make people do strange things.” (Jean-Michel - DAN)

- “You watch this dark rampaging monster go tearing across the land, wrecking everything it touches, til all of a sudden, it ain’t there no more. Ya can’t go after it, ya can’t make it put everything back, ya can’t get even with it, ‘cause it’s just… gone. All you can do is stand there thinkin’… now that ain’t fair. That just ain’t fair.” (Pa - TOT)

- “You think you’re entitled to a straight answer? Who are you, Nancy? A stranger. You forget that too easily.” (Miwako Shimizu - SAW)

- “Saw Maggie on a walk today with her new boyfriend. She gave me a sad look, and there was something else there… was it pity? Am I to be pitied now?” (Alexei Markovic’s journal - ASH)

- "I can't help but wonder if they're misfortunate fools, or just addicted to Sunday clothes and the sound of a spade takin' a bite out of cold clay."

(Savannah Woodham - GTH)

- “I wanted to be her when I grew up. But then one day I was older than my older sister, and older still today.” (Harper Thornton - GTH)

- “And I hear your song, whenever the world is quiet enough.” (Nancy, talking to her mom - SPY)

- "Family. People. That's what matters. The rest is useless noise." (Elisabet Grimursdottir - SEA)

And, finally, this nightmare from a dead soldier:

- “VICTUM INVIDEO SILENTE : The Conquered shall envy The Dead.” (Milo Penvellyn’s Coat of Arms - CUR)

[imasoftieforbarb]

hey there! you kinda have seen me already by freaking out about Floyd he’s actually is what I wanted to request!

if it’s possible, could you write a little fic on how reader could be when they (pronouns are your opinion) found out about floyd being captured? OR HEAR ME OUT PLS—

reader is Floyd‘s partner (girlfriend/boyfriend, again your opinion) BUT was captured WITH him, bc all the time I was watching the movie I imagined them being with Floyd since young and bc of cliché drama I love *cries*

again it’s your option on doing it or not !!

I LOVE THIS IDEA! Okokokokok

You were childhood best friends- and when he joined the band? You became their manager!

You wanted to support him and you didn’t want to interrupt the whole boys only band so you went with next best thing!

After the failed show you try to keep everyone from leaving

JD tells you to move, and shoves you out the way when you try to block the door

Clay just shakes his head and leaves

Spruce lays a hand on your shoulder and whispers “look after them for me”

At first Floyd tries to leave without you- after giving Branch his vest, he asks you to look after him

You nodded- but the minute he was out of sight you started crying

“What are you waiting for girl? Go get him!”

Grandma tells you she’ll be fine looking after branch on her own so you run off after Floyd

“FLOYD! FLOYD WAIT!” You shouted, seeing his figure turn around, his eyes widening when he saw you running towards him.

“Y/n? What are you doing? I thought you were gonna look after Branch”- he started to say before he saw your tears

“Im not gonna watch the boy I have loves since who knows when walk out the door without him knowing how I feel” you panted taking his hand in yours and meeting his eyes shyly “we could be so good together, we can make this last forever!”

Floyd blinked a few times before laughing slightly “wow! I never thought that you’d like me- I mean I’m not the heart throb or the fun one”

You interrupted “I don’t like them! I like you! A lot”

“I like you a lot too-you sure you wanna come with me?”

You nodded and he grinned, intertwining your fingers and starting to walk away from the pod together, hand in hand as you talked about the future

Ok now- I’m gonna mix ideas here

Let’s say when he got captured you were still with him but not present at the time

So when you got back to the pod you and your long term boyfriend had made to see it wrecked with big foot prints leading away from it

You immediately assumed he’d been eaten by a Burgan

Absolutely heartbroken you fixed the pod back up on your own and fell into a grieving depression

Everywhere you looked you saw memories of him

And then far into the future one day- you get a letter

Supposedly from your dead boyfriend!

You- despite thinking that he was dead- were desperate to see him again, and if that lead to your death then so be it!

You got in your catterbug van called Chloe and head straight for the ‘mount rageous’ that the letter had specified

Once you got to the place this “Velvet and Veneer” we’re singing at you snuck in and noticed the dressing room door open a smidge

You peaked in slightly and felt your eyes water

There he was- Floyd was alive! You couldn’t believe it- you took a few steps back to grasp what you were seeing before a bumping into something.

You looked up and Veneer looked down at you before snatching you up and laughing slightly

“Wow! Another troll? I wonder which one you are? Either way- more talent for us I suppose!” Veneer muttered before entering the dressing room

Floyd looked up from his crossed legs as one of his captors Veneer walked into the room with something in his hand

He had been thinking of you- he always thought about you- between the torture of having his talent drained he dreamed of being back in your shared pod- in your arms

He startled from his thoughts as another diamond perfume bottle was slammed down onto the counter next to him, and felt his heart drop and eyes water when he noticed who was in it

Floyd waited for veneer to leave the room- probably to go get velvet to tell her the good news of having another troll to drain before standing up and pressing his hands to the wall of his prison

“Y-Y/n? Is- is that you?”

You nodded, already crying your eyes out just from looking at him

“What are you doing here? You shouldn’t have come- they’re gonna drain you-“

He stopped when he noticed your tears streaming down your face and had a déjà-vu moment of when you first told him you liked him

“I thought you were dead”

You whispered, dropping to your knees-

“There’s no way I would pass up a way to see you- I love you!” You pressed your hands against the diamond as well and he felt his eyes well with tears

“I love you too-“

Velvet came storming into the room and cackled when she saw your face fill with fear

“Oh- you are gonna be mine!” She said grasping the bottle and starting to walk back out

“NO!” Floyd shouted “not her, drain me first-“

Velvet sneered slightly

“Seeing as you’ve said that- no, I’m gonna drain her, veneer can have you. I want a newer talent”

She left the dressing room and the door slammed shut on Floyd- his tears finally falling

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

AAAAAA- should I do a part 2 taking place during the family harmony at the end of the movie? Let me know what you think!

[fangisms]

due november

A/N: was feeling particularly soft and magical this september afternoon, so im here to feed the beasts (with love) gif creds: @osvaldrps-archived

Pairings: Husband!Neville Longbottom x Pregnant!Fem!Reader

Summary: Your family of nearly three share a moment in the living room. 0.8k words

Warnings: set when both are ~20s-30s, pregnancy, established relationship, dorky dad neville, fluff, smutty intentions but only jokes

It's all got Neville worried down to the bone. The weight of being a good husband was heavy enough without the impending uncertainty of fatherhood. Which is not to say he isn't a good husband or that he wouldn't be a good father, but the stress of it can be crippling for the nervous wreck that he is.

Though, his shakiness is ever soothed by the way you hold the back of his head when you kiss him, the way you clean his glasses of dirt smudges, the way you catch his eye in your sweetly flowing skirts, dresses, and blouses. Daintily, he'd say, very prettily.

"They're like house pets at this point," you remark, tip-toeing over the vines weaving between the slats of your hardwood flooring. Throughout the kitchen, greenery creeps in through open windows, finding home in doorframes and across the ceiling. They can't help it. The September chill is getting to everybody.

"I just can't bring myself to trim them!" he chirps, catching your waist when you trip into his side, belly protruding against your floral house dress. "On second thought—"

"No, no, Nev! I like it. I like them. It's free interior design."

"Damn weeds. It's a free death sentence."

"You're just a pessimist!" you tease.

As open to ogling as you always seem to be, he hates that you can still make him blush after all these years. Even with duckfoot ivy weaving its way through your shared home and baby names listed on the chalkboard by the door, he's still blushing when you so much as look at him.

And right now, you're looking at your horticulturist's dirt-smudged under shirt exposed beneath his striped button down. Which also happens to be smudged with dirt.

He clears his throat.

"Nervous, my dear?" you tease when he diverts his gaze from down your neckline.

"Hmm? Oh, no, not at all"—his voice falters, and he tries to focus back on the delicate clay pot in his hands—"Craving anything for lunch?"

"Nothing much," you sigh, "maybe a bite of my husband."

He blinks, eyes wide open but blank like the dial tone is just ringing through his skull. He places the empty pot gently in the sink basin, moving both damp hands to your waist with that doe-eyed look.

"You've already got one in there, lovebug, we can't go around trying for another now, can we," he says. You toss your head back with laughter, and he watches you in annoyed amazement. Since when were you impervious to his awkward charm. "Come on, lunch. Anything you want."

He cups his hands together around your lower back, letting out a soft breath when you push his hair out of his face and thumb the dirt from his brow.

"Let's see... couple of ice lollies? Sounds good, dunnit?"

"Well-rounded, definitely," he says, patting your bum with a chuckle. "I'll make some sandwiches. And I've got time for a walk after."

"You'll spoil me rotten, Mr Longbottom!"

"Watch it, or you're getting triplets."

"Oh, you're nasty, Mr Longbottom," you tease, holding his chin and leaning in for a kiss. He spins you round and pats you towards the living area.

You hurdle a couple of roots and make it halfway to the hand-me-down chaise lounge in the corner when you feel a sharp twitch.

"Christ," you yelp, grabbing the arm of the chair with a hiss, slightly bent at the waist and taking a deep breath.

"Baby? What's going on?"

"She's kicking again!" Your palm is splayed across your rounded belly as you practice deep, circular breathing. There's a harsh clammer from the kitchen. Then silence.

Then he appears in the opening, hair flopping down over his forehead, brows furrowed, towel flung over his shoulder, so still you'd think he saw his old, cranky professor.

"...She?" he huffs, pushing a hand through his hair.

"Oh. Oh, Nev, I—" You cup your palm over your mouth with a sharp breath in. "You wanted it to be a surprise. I'm so sorry."

But a smile makes its way across his lips, pulling and tugging at the soft pink as he shuffles closer. Two strong hands meet yours on the curve of your belly, welcoming another jolt. One reaches for the back of your neck, and he leans in to kiss your worried forehead.

"We're having a baby girl?"

You nod, tears welling in your eyes when he tilts your chin up to peck your wobbly bottom lip. You feel the stubbly skin of his cheek with the pad of your thumb and let him kiss you once more.

"I was so restless, I had to know," you huff, "I'm such a spoilsport! You were so excited, Nev!"

"I know. And you're not a spoilsport. I'm still excited, know why?"

"Why?" you say, wiping your nose and pouting at him. He grins.

"Because she's ours."

masterlist

[charnelhouse]

Thoughts on “you couldn’t care less” “oh, I could” and “once I start I can’t stop” (especially for a big guy like ghost) together or separate both wreck me

A/N: Ghost x F!Reader (Red Fox). Trauma. Mentions of torture.

She throws it at him, spits it like a feral cat. “You couldn’t care less, Simon.”

He gapes at her, blood encrusted in the folds of his suit. Corpses littering the floor. “I couldn’t care less?” he echoes, tone stained with incredulity.

As if the evidence of his care isn’t at their feet.

She turns away from him, staggers slightly to the side before righting herself. She’s wounded and she won’t let him touch her. A pretty bird with a broken wing. His fury rages anew. It builds like a brushfire, and he wants another neck to twist. They had hurt her, and they had paid the price.

“What has two legs and bleeds?” she rasped, raising finger guns and pretending to shoot. She was slumped against the cement wall, crimson spit pooling to the floor.

“Red,” he growled, stepping forward with the keys to her cell door. The relief in his voice was muddied by his fear. Irritation was always his backup. “Not the time.”

“It’s me,” she murmured, exhausted and fragile and half out of her mind. “I think they hit a lung.”

It’s whiplash. Her joking to her shutting him out? She’s galloping toward hysterics, her fingers trembling as they loosely grasp the handle of the gun he had shoved into her hand. Fox had been ambushed and taken as a hostage. It was Ghost who had run after her, not caring that Price had firmly told him no - you're compromised in this particular situation.

“I just...” Ghost begins before trailing off.

He just what? Murdered a whole room of people that he was supposed to keep alive, but they had attacked Red, and he wasn’t capable of playing nice. Not when it came to her. “They tortured you,” he offers lamely. It’s the truth. He knows all about torture. It’s the mental shit that’s the worst, being used and shoved to the bottom of the barrel until there’s no light left.

“You jeopardized the mission,” she argues as she kicks one of the guards’ heads to the side. It’s limp, a water balloon filled with clay. She stumbles again and Ghost shoots forward, arm winding around her waist to hold her steady. “They’re all gonna blame me.” She places her palm on his tac vest, spreads her fingers. “I got caught. You killed them all. Fuck." She sounds resigned and bitter.

“I did,” he replies flatly. “My decision.”

Her lip trembles, her teeth clicking in her mouth as they start to chatter. A box of jumbled bones. She’s going cold and Ghost realizes that she’s in shock and perhaps that is why she’s making zero sense.

“You couldn’t care less because-because you shouldn’t care like this,” she tries to explain. “They’re gonna say you did it for me and I was weak and caught and forced your hand-”

“I did do it for you,” he replies simply, picking her up into his arms. Price is barking something into his earpiece and Ghost knows he’s going to get hell; he may even be put on leave for what he did. “They can say whatever they want.”

“No,” she protests, pushing away from him, but she’s so frail that it barely registers. A butterfly landing on his shoulder. She chokes on a sob and starts to cry and if that doesn’t kill Ghost, he’s not sure what will.

He bites his tongue, attempting to control himself from reacting. Her frustration, her tears, distress him and if she could see the expression behind his mask, she’d understand. Of course, I bloody did it for you.

However, she needs his kindness now. She needs to bash herself against him until she can no longer hold her weight. Douse her anger. Douse her resentment at herself because surely this is about her. She's mad at him for risking his own reputation to save her life.

"Simon," she sputters, and his name plops out wet. Helpless. Her breasts hitch, her heart thumping fast - too fast.

“Hey...hey...easy there, duchess,” he soothes, dropping his brow until it’s fastened against her own. “Breathe with me. We got Evac coming.”

“But...it's not...”

“No more of that,” he hums before inhaling and exhaling at a slow, even rhythm. Her ear is firmly planted on his chest, and she curls her finger around one of the straps of his tac vest. She clings to it. Her hairline is beaded in cool sweat. Blood in the air. He swallows thickly as he feels her attempt to follow his pace. “That’s a girl. Just like that. Breathe. You’re safe.”

[turnaboutnerd]

No joke, my dream mainline AA final entry (whether that be AA7 or later) is not one that simply brings back all the beloved living characters from past entries who’ve disappeared (Gumshoe, Franziska, Kay, etc.) I want it to lean hard into the concept of spirit channeling in order to bring back all the former big bads (Dahlia, Manfred, Kristoph, Phantom, etc.) but also the lost loved ones (Gregory, Mia, Clay, Jove, Dhurke, Metis, etc.) for an all-out, true send-off to the mainline series.

It’s Ace Attorney! It can be ridiculous; the stakes get stupidly higher with each game anyway! Let’s say Maya senses there’s havoc being wrecked in the spirit world, and she channels Mia to discover that something has gone terribly awry with Judgment and now everyone who’s ever died in the series is stuck in purgatory, unable to move on into either Heaven or Hell (or whatever equivalent there is in the world of Ace Attorney).

Mia and some other spirits who dealt with justice systems in life (whom we later discover to be the likes of Gregory Edgeworth, Dhurke Sahdmadhi, and Godot) are trying to sort it out, but they simply can’t do it on their own—so Mia is reaching out to the world of the living for help. Now all the main living characters—Phoenix, Apollo, Athena, Maya, Ema, Miles, Gumshoe, Klavier, Simon, Nahyuta, Franziska, everyone—have to team up to help their loved ones find peace and ensure their enemies face justice in the Beyond.

Like, can you imagine what an amazing emotional mess this could be? Miles having to face his father after all the mistakes he made in his life, and them working together to send Manfred to literal hell (and just think about how Franny fits into this dynamic). Apollo and Phoenix needing to unlock Kristoph’s black psychelocks, digging up all the Gavin family skeletons, and requiring Klavier’s help to do it. Simon and Athena and Metis and the actual Bobby Fulbright having to unmask the Phantom for real. The list goes on.

It’s pipe dream, but I’m foaming at the mouth just thinking about it.

[kayentokk]

If you can, I have a request for the mha boys reacting to their s/o rejecting their affection. Sorry to bother-

Never a bother, of course I can. Sorry it took me a while to reply. I hope this is what you had in mind.💕

Pairing; Bakugo Katsuki, Midoriya Izuku, Kirishima Eijiro, and Amajiki Tamaki x GN! Reader(separate)

Contains;absolute fluff, attitudes, baby angst, misunderstandings, a lot of misunderstandings

wc; 2028

A/N; For some of my softie MHA boys lol. 

Rejecting the MHA Boys affection

☆ Bakugo Katsuki ☆

Now-

Ik I said for my softie MHA boys which is why he seems out of place

But you can’t tell me

That this fool 

Won’t have a whole ass attitude 

Cuz you “rejected” his love

I mean seriously

Who do you think you are?

To REJECT

Bakugo “Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight” Katsukis hug

Huh?

🤨

Just who?

I mean sure he didn’t really hug you-

He just stood there waiting

And waiting

Expectantly

Because you always hug him when he comes back from an assignment 

I mean he just can’t believe you

It’s outrageous that you would even do that to him 

So he sulks 

And sulks

And sulks some more

I mean he doesn’t get why you couldn’t just hug him back

I mean yeah sure you were doing a assignment for your art class

And yeah sure you had charcoal and ink all over your hands 

But you coulda hugged him back 😒 

☆ “Kats-“

“No it’s fine.”

“Are you really gonna pout the whole time?”

“M’not poutin.”

“Oh yeah? So why’s your lip poked out? Why are you slouched more than normal? How come you’re quiet in an awkward way? Why’s your right eyebrow slightly more furrowed than the left is normally? Do you want me to go on?”

“No. I told you m’fine,” he says unfurrowing his eyebrow, sticking his lip back in, and sitting up.

Goodness, why do you have to know everything about him?

“Do you really want me to hug you with ink and charcoal all over? You want me to smother you while I smell and-“

“No I don’t. Told ya I wasn’t waiting for a hug.”

“Then what were you waiting for?”

“….”

Silence.

“Alright fine I was trying to be nice since I’m all messy, but since you wanna be stubborn you’re asking for it,” you replied getting up from your chair and pouncing on him.

“Hey get’offa me, said I ain’t want your hugs-“

“Oh shut up ya big baby.”

And he does, Bakugo Katsuki, shuts up. Even though the strong scent of the charcoals you use to draw is still on you, and the wet clay underneath your nails had made its way onto his black tee and the tips of his hair, he could care less. 

In fact, he could stay like this forever. ☆ 

 ☆ Midoriya Izuku ☆ 

okay he genuinely thinks he did something wrong

Like omg what’d I do?

The definition of a lost puppy 

Immediately goes to self doubt

He went to kiss you

And you dodged

What????

Confidence?

down the drain.

Whole day?

ruined.

Has like a cloud of thunder and rain above his head while he’s trying to figure it out

He mentally replays the day

Digging through his brain

He is wrecking it 

Until ur just like 

Dude 

It wasn’t like that/it was a accident 

Misunderstandings much?

You hafta reassure him so much after

☆ It had been such a long day for him. Mentally and physically draining. What more could he possible want in life than to hang out with you? Nothing, he thought. 

However when he came to greet you, like he normally does, and he leaned in to kiss you on the lips, like he normally does, you dodged. His soft, and oh so ready lips, were met with your cheek. 

…..

Your cheeks are great too! Don’t get him wrong, but…were you upset with him? Had he done something to offend you? 

He mentally sighed, scraping through his brain to find something, anything. Wracking the shelves of his mind. Well to be honest, he hadn’t really seen much of you today because you were both busy-

Was that why? Did you not want to kiss him because of that? He should’ve taken some time out of his day to text or call you, and maybe you wouldn’t be so upset, right? He had a lunch break for like 20 minutes, he could’ve checked in you then. Instead he chose to eat his lunch like the selfish, sick, bastar-

“Izu?”

“Huh?” He questioned, quickly snapping out of his thoughts. 

“Izu, you okay? You seemed a little lost there for a moment..”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“What? No baby, why?”

“You- you dodged my kiss…”

“Were you like totally zoned out the whole time I was talking after that?”

“Kinda,” he said embarrassed.

“Silly, I said I was leaning in to kiss your cheek, sorry. I even pecked you back on the lips after, you don’t remember any of that?”

“N-no?! I’m sorry…”

You exhaled, “It seems you’re too exhausted today huh? Let’s go take a bath, yeah?”

He happily agreed, and was in utter bliss at you taking care of him the rest of the night. Gentle head pats were shared, sweet nothings whispered in the dead of night, and finally, peace hit when he fell asleep in your arms. ☆

☆ Kirishima Eijiro ☆

Lowkey breaks down into a very “manly” mess

Kirishima is a big affection guy

The best way he can fix things or lighten the mood is

Hugs

High fives

And that’s always worked for him

So when he can’t really do that

…he’s at a loss

Words? He can be good at words…kinda?

He’s just not very sure 

He’s more of a physical affection 

So one day when you’re hanging out

He can tell your mood is off

That’s one thing he’s gotten really good at is reading you

You’re upset

so ofc he tries to give you a hug 

But you decline not wanting that

Ofc this is about you and he’s still gonna try his best

It just made him sad to think that that’s the only way he knew how to help you

…yet it doesn’t always work

☆ Honestly, you were just upset today. Things weren’t going the way that they were supposed to. Granted, they were small things but they still bothered you. Eventually building up to your soured mood. 

You’d tried talking to “friends” about it, but we’re just given responses like, “Do you know how minor that is compared to my day?” Or, “Don’t focus on the negative,” and the most common, “Why are you being so selfish?” 

After those you just gave up and tried to get through your day. Trying to get back in the excited mood because you were supposed to hang out with Kirishima today. So everything would be fine shortly, or at least that’s what you thought.

He showed up at your apartment to just watch movies, and you figured it would be okay. However, as the movie went on you found yourself not able to pay attention. Kirishima noticed this as well and immediately asked what was wrong. When you brushed it off with a “nothing,” he knew it wasn’t nothing. 

Normally cuddles always brought you out of your saddened state, at least a little. So he wraps his arms around you in a warm hug and tries to snuggle close. This simple but oh so caring act of affection was not able to bring you out of your mood, in fact it almost worsened. You nudged him off with the excuse that it was “too hot.”

Oh, he thought. 

You were really upset, and there was nothing he could do. The only thing he could do, the only thing he knew he excelled at in life, couldn’t help. So why was he even here? It made him feel useless, and stupid. 

Quickly realizing that his mood had changed, you started to feel bad. Gosh why couldn’t you just stop being so selfish? 

“Sorry,” he quickly stated before you could.

“What are you sorry for? I-I should be the one who’s sorry..”

“No I,” he sighed deeply, “I don’t know how to comfort you, and there’s nothing I can do to help so I’m basically use-“

You cut him off with a peck on his forehead.

“Wh-what are you-“

“Just you being here is helpful to me Eiji. I was just having a rough day today, okay? It’s not your fault.”

“But still I should be able to comfort you…”

“Well, I could seriously use someone to vent to,” his eyes lit up at that, “as long as you don’t interrupt me to say how much harder your day was, or tell me how negative and selfish I’m being.”

His eyebrows crinkled downward and his whole face shifted into a frown, “why would I do that?”

“Long story babe.”

“Well good thing I’m here to listen.”

Now he has a new way he can comfort you, and he’s an expert at listening as well. ☆

☆ Amajiki Tamaki ☆

Okay legit the definition of an awkward misunderstanding 

Even though his natural personality is shy and timid or quiet

He’s more comfortable around you 

But that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t get stuck sometimes

Like he’s gonna do something 

And then bam

Nvm 😅 🫠

He’s so disappointed with himself

He built it up and was so ready

So he just accepts it

This time though you don’t beat him to it

In fact you don’t do it at all

It causes him to think something is wrong

But you had noticed his frustration lately with something

After noticing it was his courage you decided you’d let him greet you today

So he builds himself up

Even stands in front of you 

While you wait patiently 

And then

He just gives a stammered out never mind and a defeated sigh

Because what if you don’t even want to hug or kiss him anyway?

☆ Tamaki comes home everyday, to your shared apartment, and everyday you’re the first person he sees. He always finds you where ever you are, normally in your study, and you hug and kiss him. Then there in the room you guys talk about your days and unwind, mostly him listening to you. 

Recently though, you had noticed him being more frustrated? You weren’t sure what if was but it was always after you hugged and kissed him, you could tell because his brow would slightly furrow and his lips would poke out in a pout. You weren’t sure why though, did your breath stink? No. Were you hugging him too tight? No Tamaki loves your hugs. So what could it be?

You called up the person who knows him second best, his closest friend, a friend of yours as well since you’ve started dating Tamaki. Mirio. You figured Tamaki might have said something to him even if it was just a mumbling her overheard, and you figured correctly. 

Mirio told you he had only heard Tamaki mumbling about courage and greetings recently, which was enough for you to put two and two together. You thanked him for his helpful information and waited on Tamaki to arrive home. It was his early shift today so at about 7 he’d be home.

You waited this time, in the living room. This time when he came in you simply gave him a, “hey ‘tama” and he greeted you back coming to sit on the couch with you. For a moment he stared, waiting, almost expectantly. 

He was building himself up, and you were giving him time. It wasn’t awkward silence, just expecting, patient silence. After a couple minutes you were about to speak when he kissed you. 

I did it! Was all he could think of, but he was a bit harsh and one of his teeth bit your lip causing you to break the kiss. 

Oh no, what if I was right? She didn’t want to kiss me at all! I should’ve just gave up-

“Tamaki? Are you okay?”

“I-I’m…I’m sorry,” he said in a hushed tone.

“It’s okay, accidents happen.”

“A-accident?” He said confused.

“Yes, I’m assuming you didn’t bite me on purpose,” you said giggling.

Then it clicked in his brain, he was so excited he had finally done it, he accidentally hurt you in the process. It made him sad, a sullen look now appeared over his features. 

“I’m sorry. I- I just really wanted t-to-“

“I know Tama, and it’s okay,” you reassured him, “you can just keep trying.”

Smiling he asked hopefully, “really?”

“Of course.” ☆

Hope this fulfilled your request!  @/cafekitsune for the divider

[kechiwrites]

decided to break it

toxic baby daddy!ghost x reader

part 4/?

synopsis: babies change everything, and neither you, nor simon handle change very well at all.

wc: 2.2k

cw: afab!reader, angst, hurt with no comfort, language, break up fic, abandonment issues, no gendered language, discussions and depictions of pregnancy. no use of y/n ever.

author’s note: im back <3, more tomorrow, or perhaps later tonight if i feel up to formatting on this hell site. for kitten, shia, nori, 👩🏿‍🍼 anon, and everyone else who cheered me up when i felt super down post-holidays

new to baby blue? start here.

"Fuck." You murmur, maybe for the fourth time since the 15 minute timer had gone off on your phone. The word doesn’t seem heavy enough to sum up how you’re feeling, but you give it a few more tries anyway, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” The word 'pregnant', however, is the heaviest you’ve ever seen, latching onto your limbs and skin and dragging you to the floor beneath you. ‘Pregnant’ stares you in the face from the stick in your shaking hands, punctuated with a little smiley face you can barely see through tears. In the back of your mind you kind of wished you'd gotten the kind with the little ambiguous pink lines, just so you could pretend you didn't understand what two lines instead of one meant. Just for a little bit. Alas, the pharmacist recommended the slightly more expensive test, the kind that gives you a week estimate. The kind that tells you you've been fucked for 3-4 weeks now.

Every emotion you'd been feeling up until then cedes to white hot panic. It's hard to breathe in your little blue bathroom.

You wonder what he'll say. 

No. 

You dread what he’ll say. 

It’s nothing you two have ever talked about, not in the cold blackness of night, when he’d sat in your arms with his face bare to you and murmured every gory detail of his upbringing to you and not a goddamn therapist. Not the following morning when you’d sobbed your terror of the future, and losing everything you had into his lap. And certainly not when you had mutually decided you were “getting serious”.

And now you have to. You have to tell Simon you’re pregnant.

There's a pit in your stomach when he comes by that night, mask off and eyes warm, considering like they always are. You get swept up in how it feels to be near him, to have him crowd into your space, soaking your senses in his scent, his warmth. He kisses you gently, so soft it makes you want to cry. He used to say he wasn't capable of being like that. Not with you. Not with anyone. 

Instead of sobbing into his chest like you’re desperate to, you chide him about wearing his boots in the house. You take the time he needs to unlace them to memorize what being with him feels like in this moment, the last time things will be easy. 

He levers up and nudges his boots over to yours, where they sit side by side. Tears choke your voice again, and you’re praying it’s just a pregnancy thing rather than a ‘you being an unstable wreck’ thing.

“Sit.” You turn to the kitchen, setting your kettle on the stove and turning the knob to high. He hunkers down on the worn cream leather of your couch. You linger in front of your stovetop as long as you can, fussing with the mug Simon uses almost always, an ugly misshapen pink thing you’d made at a beginner ceramics class four years ago. It’s chipped at the lip, rose coloured glaze cracked, exposing the beige clay underneath it. Your hand glances over boxes of tea, back and forth over colourful labels that may as well be written in gibberish for all the luck you're having reading them. 

It feels like there's no air in the room, like the secret under your t-shirt is taking it all, vacuum sealing your room until your chest burns and your head feels like it's going to pop. You tear open a brand new box of earl grey, stuffing it back onto your shelf when the tea bag is sat securely in the cup. 

"What's wrong?” He grouses from the couch, and it’s only then that you realize your shoulders are hunched up around your ears. 

“I..” your stomach rolls and sweat begins to bead on your forehead. You can hear him stir in his seat behind you, shifting forward so he can peer at you from your living room. Saliva gathers in your mouth, and oh god, maybe you actually will throw up, it’s too early for morning sickness right? Unless the stupid tests were wrong and now you’re going to cover your countertops in the stew you had for lun-

“Hey.” Simon is standing behind you now, his hands gripping your shoulders, shaking you lightly until you whip around to face him. The kettle is screaming now, filling your home with that shrill, high shriek of steam from the boiling water whistling through the appliance's tiny spout. 

Somehow it’s still quieter than your pulse pounding in your ear.

“I’m pregnant.” You choke out, if only to stop yourself from retching over Simon’s socked feet. God, it’s like time stops, then it splits and cracks in clean halves. Into before and after he knew. Before and after his concerned expression crumbled into disbelief, before and after he schooled that disbelief into placid nothingness. And it’s not like you’d entertained the delusion that he’d be happy about it. But the silent hang time before he reacts is this terrible, hollow, unknown that tears up your insides and relishes in the shiny, red viscera. 

A gruff, quiet "Are you sure?" is what you get from him, when he finally recovers, and you try so hard not to let it bother you. It's a shock. A surprise. A loud bang in the middle of a serene night, a cannon going off in your face, a gunshot into the sky when you thought the race was an hour from starting. 

You try to give him a bit of grace. Still, the pit in your stomach grows.

Now it's a bit of a sinkhole.

"Baby, I wouldn't be telling you if I wasn't sure." You move to snag your fingers into the fabric of his shirt, to tug him close so you can hold each other, support each other, but he take a small step backwards, letting his palms slip from your shoulders. 

The sinkhole is a cavern, yawning wide, open and empty. 

You toss your hope and love inside.

“I need…some time.” He mutters, slinking out of your space, out of the kitchen and back into your entryway. 

'Time to fucking what?' you think, but hold back. You know Simon. You love Simon. And you remember where he's come from. What he's come from. You realize a second too late you should be following him, and when you stumble over the kitchen threshold, he’s tying up his boots, his broad back facing you. You try to peer around him, try to get a look at his face, desperate to gauge where he’s at. But when you notice he’s knocked your shoes over in his scramble to get away, to be anywhere but here, you stop moving..

“Y-yeah. Okay. Just..uh, get back to me soon okay?” you stutter, and wrap your arms around yourself, like you know Simon won't. Not with the way his hands are shaking. 

He doesn’t even respond this time. 

The soldier just stands. He opens your front door. And walks out. Leaving you in your entryway. Water past its boiling point in the kettle.

You don’t see him again until you’re four, nearly five months along, the bump under your clothes now impossible to hide. When you stumble into your home, exhausted from working, he’s in your living room. Sitting there in his mask at your tiny dining room table. Like no time has passed at all. Like he should be there. You realize you never did get your spare house key back.

“Get out.” you spit, blood boiling under your skin. 

"I know you're upset-" He begins, like he’s about to deliver a practiced speech.

"Get the fuck out!" Your tone is caustic, and you hope it burns him, hope it strips off all the facade on the rotting structure he is underneath.

"I never meant to leave it so long. This." He won't even say it. Can't even refer to you, let alone your baby. He stands up and becomes this big, dark mass in the bright space of your living room, black mask, black shirt, black boots, just a huge black hole that sucks up every good feeling you’d had in his absence, every ray of light that’d shone through the dark gloom he’d left behind. Nothing escapes his pull. 

He peers at you from the gap in his mask. The stark white skull stretched over his face mocks you, maliciously whispers in your ear; ‘Did you think you knew him? That he was honest with you? Open to you?’

And you had. You did. You thought you were making progress, building some semblance of a future, falling in love.

It makes you sick to your stomach to think of it.

"You want to apologize, take the fucking mask off Simon." Your voice breaks, and part of you hopes he hears it for the plea it is. Hopes he understands what you’re asking of him. Hopes he feels how bad you missed him, under the hurt and pain and bitter, bitter loneliness. If he would just take it off, just pull the stupid fabric over his face and show you he was still yours under there, that he’d make a mistake and he’s ready now, then maybe the two of you could fix it. This.

Instead, his silence, his stillness cracks open your ribcage and pours black ink over your heart.

Humiliation and anger simmer on your tongue. What comes next is shockingly easy. "Oh you can't do it, huh? Can't be a fucking person with me, huh?" You shove at his chest, and he takes it, staring at you with pain in his eyes. Like this is hurting him.

"I shouldn't have waited so long, but I-" he steps towards you and it feels so good to rip away from his touch. To step back from his advance.

"No!” You shout, and your face is so hot, skin ablaze with righteous anger. “Shut up! Three months? Are you out of your fucking mind?"

And yes, one month of that was deployment, you’d known that, you’d talked about it, together. One month of no contact. One month of sand and heat and blood. But the other two months had been that white hot panic you'd felt on your own, in that tiny bathroom with the peeling blue wallpaper he'd promised he'd help you strip and replace. The other months had been missed calls, and ignored texts and you getting bigger under your sweaters because unlike him, you couldn't just take a break from the situation.

“Get the fuck out of my house!” You shove past him, deeper into your home, spinning around so he’s closer to your entryway than you are. “Don’t you ever show your face here again, do you hear me?” You’re screaming now, much to Ghost’s visible discomfort. Good. You hope your nosy ass neighbours call the cops. You hope they physically remove his pathetic ass. You hope they embarrass him. (It isn’t very likely, of course. But God, could you dream).

“You can't just keep it from me.” He steps closer and you lament that he has you on the backfoot. It’s your space, your home and yet it feels as though you’re the one who’s out of place, off kilter and uncomfortable. You glare at him. 

“It’s mine too.”

‘It’ he says, and that bothers you. Irks you. Him calling your baby an ‘it’. 

“Give me a fucking break, it wasn’t yours when you left me, you couldn’t wait to get your sorry ass out of here when I told you. Now you wanna play daddy? I don’t fucking think so.” You dig your fingernails into the meat of your palms, leaving aching crescents in their wake. 

“And you know what? Maybe it’s my fault for wanting to be with someone who is so fundamentally fucking broken that he couldn’t fucking bear to show me his goddamn face until I’d begged him. Maybe I’m the idiot for thinking you could ever be capable of love, of decency. I needed you. And you abandoned me, Simon. You are a fucking monster.” 

The word hangs in the air, hovering between the two of you where it can’t be taken back, and it sure as hell can’t be forgotten.

“You are good at distancing yourself, you are good at killing your feelings. Keep doing that. Stay the fuck away from me and my kid.” You’re panting when you finish, and everything hurts, one of your hands is bleeding, your eyelids prickle with the pain of unshed tears, your throat feels strained and tight. He nods once, jerky and quick, before he takes an unbalanced step back. Then another and another, his eyes never leaving yours, like he’s looking for something, anything other than hurt and hatred.

But there’s nothing else to find.

He turns, opening your front door and trudging out, heavy footfalls bracketing short moments of gut wrenching silence. It feels final. But it doesn’t feel good. Not like you thought it might.

He’s halfway into his SUV when you scramble out your front door, shouting over your porch railing to him in your driveway. “And get rid of my fucking keys!” He stares at you, standing stockstill, before he gets in the driver’s seat and pulls away.

whew, nice to post ghosty-poo again

series masterlist here

support city girls, reblog what u like

[xxkiller-muffinxx]

I'll always be there for you

Clay x inventor! reader

Summary: You are an inventor from Putt Putt Village. Using the golf course for building things that can aid the trolls. You were the best! Until you moved to Pop village, where you have to impress all of the trolls to make a good first impression. Then with the help of Clay’s affirmations you wind up doing just that

Words: 1009

Warnings: All of this is fluff

A/N: I admit it, I hated trying to figure out Clays character without having to watch the movie again. I have watched so many videos just trying to get it right and it's been likean earworm, tearing me apart from the inside out. That's why at some point it feels a little more headcanony than other parts. (we dont get enough of Clay honestly.) Anyway this was fun to write, I can't wait for you all to read it! Happy New year everyone!

❉❊❉

You groaned as you came out from under the machine. It’s a machine that doubles glitter. It was just to be a little in spirit of returning to troll society, but it’s turning out to be the hardest machine you’ve ever worked on.

You dust glitter off your arms and adjust your clothing. A part of you feels embarrassed to be working on a glitter machine like this. You have so many other projects and your working on this to be cool to other trolls? You’re close to giving up when-

“Hey! I’ve been looking for you! I asked around town and- What. Is. That.” Clay stopped in his tracks as he pointed to the large (but not too large) glitter-covered machine. You sigh and brush yourself off, inherently spreading more glitter.

You cover your face in embarrassment. “No, it’s nothing, just a thing I’ve been working on.” You say, not expecting Clay of all people to show up suddenly and notice your big “surprise.” Your cheeks flushing a deep shade of red.

Before you could protest, Clay was already inspecting the machine.

“Clay-”

“It’s a party machine!”

“Clay, don't do this.”

“Or it’s a…sun bathing machine.”

“You’re not serious please just-”

“Ooooor it’s a Glitter doubler machine that doubles one piece of glitter into hundreds more.” Clay look at you as if he was correct and you groaned in embarrassment. He walked over to you and stood next to you. “Can’t hide anything from me, you know this. What’s wrong?”

You frown, crossing your arms. “I feel like I’m doing too much to impress these new Trolls, I mean glitter machine? Someone has to have already made that.” You say as you nervously bite your nails. Clay’s arm wraps around your neck and pulls you into his shoulder.

You lean into him, grumbling your grumbles that he loves so much. Clay shrugs slightly. “Well, if you’re doing too much than…they’d want you to do more.” Clay sends you a serious look and you instantly recoil, he can’t be serious. Clay interjects your thoughts “I know it sounds crazy but have you met Viva’s sister? She’s crazy when it comes to going big or going home. She never goes home.”

You snorted at the sentiment, but looked at your invention and frowned. “But what if it explodes when showing off? That defeats the purpose! Everyone will hate me for sure.” You we’re becoming a nervous wreck the more you thought about it,

Clay’s hand went over your temples, beginning to rub gently at them to stop any sights of an inventor's headache. “Okay okay, bring it back down. There you are.” He said, nipping your chin with his thumb and index finger. You laughed, mostly because your neck was ticklish, but also because you blush hard ever time he does it.

Clay looked you in the eyes and crossed his arms. “Let’s think about disasters; after you build it huh?” He offered, you rolled your eyes and he clicked his tongue at you. “That’s my girl, now let’s get to work!”

✩✪✩✪✩

Now, you stood next to clay for your first test. When suddenly, glitter sputtered out the sides and the top. You groaned. Clay then pointed out that it's doing one thing they wanted, but not another. “Okay, we're doing something right and something wrong.” You look at the machine and feel a sense a pride in it now.

“Okay, well, obviously it's something on the sides. I have to cover those up somehow.” You'd deduce and giggle when Clay made a mock surprised face. “Alright let's do it!”

✩✪✩✪✩

You laid on the ground stomach full after Viva brought you French fries and meat circles. You were halfway to a food coma when Clay asked “This isn't just about the machine right, the change is hitting you too?” he asked, looking at you with worried eyes.

You just nodded. “I understand change is hard, but this? This is crazy. Moving entirely out of Putt Putt Village for this? It's enough to make your skin crawl.”

“Well just so you know your are not the only one, every other troll is in some kind of tiff about it too. I mean I had to give up my admin house.”

“You hated living in that thing.”

“Quite the contrary, it was actually delectable beyond reasoning.”

“You always do the voice when I'm right. Just admit it alright?”

“Nothing to admit.”

“I sometimes hate that I love you.”

✩✪✩✪✩

Finally, the moment had come, everything fell into place. You decided the go big or go home approach would be best. So now you had a small glitter volcano, it's small, adorable, and simple. However its just big enough to where you can't go home.

Surprise surprise, everyone adored it. Glitter trolls have already been caught bathing in it, but you only build the machines, you don't monitor them. You are in Poppy’s pod getting a mouthful about how great that glitter-cano is. Then when you came out you got more compliments! It wasn't until you and Floyd were eating lunch together that Clay even asked. “So, did everyone like the-”

“YES! They loved It! They all loved it so much that they told me they liked it and I've never felt greater!” You squealed as you looked at the pin Poppy had given you. It wasn't much, it just said “You did it!” even then you still were pretty stoked.

Clay smiled. Leaning on his hand as he looked at you. “That's awesome! I'm so proud of you.” he reached across the table to offer a high five, and you smirked and took his hand. He was confused until you pulled him to meet you in the middle to accept a kiss on the forehead.

He slapped a hand onto his forehead and you laughed softly. “Thank you for being my number one Clay.” Clay admittedly blushed, but he'd never say that he did. He waved a hand.

“It's nothing, you know I'll always be here for you.”

[luminoustarlight]

anakin would make sex soso messy but so hot. like it’s even hotter bc his hygiene is impeccable and he smells great n all - but he just gets messyyy in bed. like he wants to see you striped all over w his cum, wants to spit on u (and vice versa sometimes), loves getting u wett asf. and his hair WILL be messy like those waves are jus so ugh mussed up in the most gorgeous way. & all that combined w his incessant dirty talk makes the experience feel so forbidden between you two. i can’t deal. this def also applies for james kelly/clay my FAVS

pls cld i be 🫧bubbles anon hehe <3

oh YOU ARE RUINING ME WITH THIS MY DEAR BUBBLES.

anakin has STAMINA too. he can go all. night. long. so even if you’re tired and you’re spent, anakin is gonna keep going and he wants to see you a wreck. he wants to see the spoils of his cum dripping and dried between your legs.

he’s the kind of guy who will degrade you while also praising you and i will die on this hill.

“my good little cum slut. look at you. my beautiful mess.”

when you say “more” he says “greedy little thing. haven’t i given you enough?”

“it’s not enough that i’ve cum inside of you, on your pretty little tits, in your mouth? what’s next? want me to cum in your tight ass? huh? is that it? dirty whore.”

🍒 sin saturday

[allmyhomieshatelawns]

if y’all want fic recs for the Trolls fandom i’ve got so many. like i tend to skew more for the feral stuff but i’ve got variety, i promise lol.

now, idk most of the ppl’s handles here on tumblr since i’m assuming most of these ppl have tumblrs. if your story is on this list and you want me to link to your tumblr, please don’t hesitate to ask i will do so immediately.

also if y’all have fic recs, 👀👀👀 i’d love to see them. links are easiest for me to use, but if you’ve got the name of it and the website it’s on i can manage, probably lol

i’m not reading stuff that’s positive abt Creek tho. i just can’t, i hate him too much. y’all get on w yo bad selves if you do love that disaster gay, it’s just not for me.

recommendations are beneath the cut bc it started getting really long lmao

a “bergens are only in history books” fic— Complete

a what-if of if Clay got the letter about Floyd, instead of John Dory —Complete

the ever-famous “what if JD came back to raise Branch?” AU —Complete

probably my favorite atm? John Dory is Branch’s dad, and the OC that JD is shipped w… it’s so good y’all i can’t even. the first two parts of the series are complete, and the third part is updating regularly.

a “what if Branch AND Poppy were feral” AU this bitch updates like, every day??? idk how tf some of these authors keep up. it’s just about to get to the events of the second movie i think. y’all. it’s so. GOOD.

ok y’all, THIS FIC, GOOD angst. so far it’s a two part series, and the angst. oh man. John Dory has some ISSUES, and he is not dealing with it well. it’s so good. the first part of the series is complete, the second part is updating regularly.

this series is a mashup between The Eldest And The Youngest and Out The Train Wreck AUs. y’all. making me go all-in on the John Dory x Hickory train wtf. i think the first three parts are complete? or almost complete? idk

YALL THIS ONE GIVES ME SUCH LIFE AS AN AUTISTIC PERSON. basically Barb mistakes young grey Branch for a rock troll and accidentally kidnaps him. it’s SO GOOD. also i DO know the tumblr handle for this one! it’s @rocksibblingsau !!!! give them some love this fic is AWESOME. not complete yet, but oh man if you can read WIPs then definitely check this out!