#i remember searching for her books EVERYWHERE when i was little

[cup-of-starlight-waters]

Okay, let me tell you a story:

Once upon a time, there was a prose translation of the Pearl Poet’s Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. It was wonderfully charming and lyrical and perfect for use in a high school, and so a clever English teacher (as one did in the 70s) made a scan of the book for her students, saved it as a pdf, and printed copies off for her students every year. In true teacher tradition, she shared the file with her colleagues, and so for many years the students of the high school all studied Sir Gawain and the Green Knight from the same (very badly scanned) version of this wonderful prose translation.

In time, a new teacher became head of the English Department, and while he agreed that the prose translation was very wonderful he felt that the quality of the scan was much less so. Also in true teacher tradition, he then spent hours typing up the scan into a word processor, with a few typos here and there and a few places where he was genuinely just guessing wildly at what the scan actually said. This completed word document was much cleaner and easier for the students to read, and so of course he shared it with his colleagues, including his very new wide-eyed faculty member who was teaching British Literature for the first time (this was me).

As teachers sometimes do, he moved on for greener (ie, better paying) pastures, leaving behind the word document, but not the original pdf scan. This of course meant that as I was attempting to verify whether a weird word was a typo or a genuine artifact of the original translation, I had no other version to compare it to. Being a good card-holding gen zillenial I of course turned to google, making good use of the super secret plagiarism-checking teacher technique “Quotation Marks”, with an astonishing result:

By which I mean literally one result.

For my purposes, this was precisely what I needed: a very clean and crisp scan that allowed me to make corrections to my typed edition: a happily ever after, amen.

But beware, for deep within my soul a terrible Monster was stirring. Bane of procrastinators everywhere, my Curiosity had found a likely looking rabbit hole. See, this wonderfully clear and crisp scan was lacking in two rather important pieces of identifying information: the title of the book from which the scan was taken, and the name of the translator. The only identifying features were the section title “Precursors” (and no, that is not the title of the book, believe me I looked) and this little leaf-like motif by the page numbers:

(Remember the leaf. This will be important later.)

We shall not dwell at length on the hours of internet research that ensued—how the sun slowly dipped behind the horizon, grading abandoned in shadows half-lit by the the blue glow of the computer screen—how google search after search racked up, until an email warning of “unusual activity on your account” flashed into momentary existence before being consigned immediately and with some prejudice to the digital void—how one third of the way through a “comprehensive but not exhaustive” list of Sir Gawain translators despair crept in until I was left in utter darkness, screen black and eyes staring dully at the wall.

Above all, let us not admit to the fact that such an afternoon occurred not once, not twice, but three times.

Suffice to say, many hours had been spent in fruitless pursuit before a new thought crept in: if this book was so mysterious, so obscure as to defeat the modern search engine, perhaps the answer lay not in the technologies of today, but the wisdom of the past. Fingers trembling, I pulled up the last blast email that had been sent to current and former faculty and staff, and began to compose an email to the timeless and indomitable woman who had taught English to me when I was a student, and who had, after nearly fifty years, retired from teaching just before I returned to my alma mater.

After staring at the email for approximately five or so minutes, I winced, pressed send, and let my plea sail out into the void. I cannot adequately describe for you the instinctive reverence I possess towards this teacher; suffice to say that Ms English was and is a woman of remarkable character, as much a legend as an institution as a woman of flesh and blood whose enduring influence inspired countless students. There is not a student taught by Ms. English who does not have a story to tell about her, and her decline in her last years of teaching and eventual retirement in the face of COVID was the end of an era. She still remembers me, and every couple months one of her contemporaries and dear friends who still works as a guidance counsellor stops me in the hall to tell me that Ms. English says hello and that she is thrilled that I am teaching here—thrilled that I am teaching honors students—thrilled that I am now teaching the AP students. “Tell her I said hello back,” I always say, and smile.

Ms. English is a legend, and one does not expect legends to respond to you immediately. Who knows when a woman of her generation would next think to check her email? Who knows if she would remember?

The day after I sent the email I got this response:

My friends, I was shaken. I was stunned. Imagine asking God a question and he turns to you and says, “Hold on one moment, let me check with my predecessor.”

The idea that even Ms. English had inherited this mysterious translation had never even occurred to me as a possibility, not when Ms. English had been a faculty member since the early days of the school. How wonderful, I thought to myself. What a great thing, that this translation is so obscure and mysterious that it defeats even Ms. English.

A few days later, Ms. English emailed me again:

(I had, in fact searched through both the English office and the Annex—a dark, weirdly shaped concrete storage area containing a great deal of dust and many aging copies of various books—a few days prior. I had no luck, sadly.)

At last, though, I had a title and a description! I returned to my internet search, only to find to my dismay that there was no book that exactly matched the title. I found THE BRITISH TRADITION: POETRY, PROSE, AND DRAMA (which was not black and the table of contents I found did not include Sir Gawain) and THE ENGLISH TRADITION, a super early edition of the Prentice Hall textbooks we use today, which did have a black cover but there were absolutely zero images I could find of the table of contents or the interior and so I had no way of determining if it was the correct book short of laying out an unfortunate amount of cold hard cash for a potential dead end.

So I sighed, and relinquished my dreams of solving the mystery. Perhaps someday 30 years from now, I thought, I’ll be wandering through one of those mysterious bookshops filled with out of print books and I’ll pick up a book and there will be the translation, found out last!

So I sighed, and told the whole story to my colleagues for a laugh. I sent screenshots of Ms. English’s emails to my siblings who were also taught by her. I told the story to my Dad over dinner as my Great Adventure of the Week.

…my friends. I come by my rabbit-hole curiosity honestly, but my Dad is of a different generation of computer literacy and knows a few Deep Secrets that I have never learned. He asked me the title that Ms. English gave me, pulled up some mysterious catalogue site, and within ten minutes found a title card. There are apparently two copies available in libraries worldwide, one in Philadelphia and the other in British Columbia. I said, “sure, Dad,” and went upstairs. He texted me a link. Rolling my eyes, I opened it and looked at the description.

Huh, I thought. Four volumes, just like Ms. English said. I wonder…

Armed with a slightly different title and a publisher, I looked up “The English Tradition: Fiction macmillan” and the first entry is an eBay sale that had picture of the interior and LO AND BEHOLD:

THE LEAF. LOOK AT THE LEAF.

My dad found it! He found the book!!

Except for one teensy tiny problem which is that the cover of the book is uh a very bright green and not at all black like Ms. English said. Alas, it was a case of mistaken identity, because The English Tradition: Poetry does have a black cover, although it is the fiction volume which contains Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.

And so having found the book at last, I have decided to purchase it for the sum of $8, that ever after the origins of this translation may once more be known.

In this year of 2022 this adventure took place, as this post bears witness, the end, amen.

(Edit: See here for part 2!)

[yayakoishii]

Want | Sanji x Chubby! Reader

Fandom: One Piece

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x Chubby! Reader

WC: 5.5k

Genre: Fluff, slight Angst

Warnings: Sexual harrasment, derogatory terms for chubby people, mentions of blood, insecurities that lead to a bit of light self derogation (Please remember you're absolutely beautiful as you are <3)

A/n: The response on Hunger is insane. Over 700 likes?! I didn't expect much beyond a few 10-20 likes, thank you for all the love 😭 This is another self indulgent fic, more personal to me because I'm chubby myself so... I'm not super proud of the pacing tbh, but it's still pretty good, in my (biased) opinion, haha. I hope you enjoy it!!! ♡

also available on ao3!

When you joined the Straw Hat crew, you didn't expect to fall in love with the blonde chef.

Actually, when you joined them, you weren't in the mindset to think about love and silly crushes. Your island had been destroyed by the Marines for a 'good cause' and despite the Straw Hats' best attempt, you were the only remaining survivor. Luffy kindly offered you a place on his crew, and you joined as an assistant to Chopper, slowly learning from him.

The first few weeks after you joined were tough for you, who had never travelled outside of your island. It took time to get used to the environmental changes along with the emotional grief of losing all your loved ones. The crew tried their best to cheer you up in their own ways, and you would forever be grateful for every one of them for at least trying, even if their methods weren't the most effective for you. It was the thought and the sentiment behind it that counted.

But what did work for you was… food. Ever since you were a child, you had loved food and it was the way you connected to life. Though you were not the greatest cook out there, you were capable of making things that were edible and quite good at times. On the ship though, you never had to cook, because Sanji would always do all the cooking. Whenever you offered to help, to take your mind off the pain you were feeling, he would kindly decline, saying that he would make you whatever you wanted.

But he couldn't. The dishes from your island were not recipes known quite to the rest of the world. Hell, even you didn't know all of them, save for some of your favourite foods that you had learnt from your mother. So you snuck in after dinner and made a dish from your hometown. It wasn't the best food you ever cooked, but it still meant something to you, because you were reminded of home.

You wrote down all the recipes you knew into a book, and kept it close. Whenever you missed your home, you would sneak into the kitchen at night and make yourself something with your wonky cooking skills that made the dish taste different every time. Still, the familiarity was enough to comfort you and let you wallow in the grief at the same time.

Until one day, you couldn't find your book.

"Nami?" You called unsurely to the navigator, who was lying on the deck under shade next to Robin. Behind them, Sanji was serving drinks. The three looked at you in question and suddenly under the scrutiny, your confidence faltered. "Um, uh.. d- did you see a journal somewhere? I can't find mine…"

"The brown one?" She asked, pushing her sunglasses up into her hair. You nodded frantically, hoping she knew. "I don't think I did. Did you check under your bed?"

"I did," you whispered, feeling the sadness wash over you again. It's not like you didn't still remember the recipes, but your memory wasn't the best. Without the book, it would be hard to remember them all.

"Don't worry, we'll find it," Nami got up and reassured you, looking concerned. "Sanji. Robin."

The two of them nodded along and then the four of you were searching for it everywhere, until Sanji had to excuse himself apologetically because he had to go cook lunch. You could only nod, trying not to get down in the dumps again over a book, but it felt a little hopeless. Until you heard Sanji shout from the kitchen. The three of you ran over to find him scolding Luffy, your journal in his hand.

"I just wanted to see what was in it!" Luffy pouted, his rubbery hands swinging around to try and get it back.

"That's an invasion of privacy, Luffy!" Sanji looked angry, but you were too relieved about the fact that you had found the book to get upset with Luffy.

"It's okay," you said, reaching forward to get the book. "It's just… recipes, Luffy. From my hometown."

There was silence in the kitchen for a few seconds and Luffy's face dropped into a serious look.

"I'm sorry," he said, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "I thought… If I knew how to help you, you'd be happier."

It made you laugh softly, your heart warm at his kind intentions.

"Thank you, Captain," you smiled at him, eyes crinkling into crescent moons. "I am happy here. I just… miss my home, sometimes."

He wrapped you into a hug and Nami ruffled your hair a little. You smiled under the attention, holding the book close. Sanji for once was quiet, just staring at the book thoughtfully, though you didn't notice it then.

A few days after that event, Sanji called you to the kitchen before lunchtime. Curiously, you followed him to find… a plate of your favourite dish from your hometown. It was plated beautifully, making it look fancy and yet it still had that homey feeling to it. Sanji didn't say a word, just held out the chair for you to sit. You sat down in a daze, too focused on the smell of it lingering in the room.

It smelled like home.

And when you tasted it, you burst into tears. Because it tasted like home. It tasted exactly like your mom's. All the tears you had held back to not worry the crew were now spilling out without any end but you didn't care. Here, where only Sanji could see you, you let it all out. He didn't say anything, just placed a gentle hand on your shoulder and squeezed to let you know he's there for you. You turned around to face him, but the tears made it all blurry. Knocking your head against his stomach, you cried harder.

Sanji just held your head, carding fingers through your hair in comfort, offering you a handkerchief. That, you realised later, was the moment your feelings for Sanji began.

✿

After that day, you became a lot happier. Somehow, without words, just eating the food that Sanji made was enough to heal your broken heart bit by bit. Sometimes, he made extra because Luffy was curious and wanted to taste it too; and then the whole crew wanted it so Sanji made a few of your dishes for dinner. In that moment, surrounded by the smell of home, around your new family, your heart finally started healing.

You started noticing Sanji everywhere after you got used to life on the Thousand Sunny. From the small things he does, to the loud expressions of love he made, everything about him seemed wonderful and warm to you. Because you knew that beneath his overt affections for all the ladies, he was an infinitely kind, caring and observant person. How were you supposed to not fall for him, when he went above and beyond for you?

And yet, for all his admissions of love, you never believed that he could truly like you back like you felt for him. You were after all, not the prettiest girl around and you knew that. You were not slim like Nami or Robin, and it's not like you absolutely hated your soft and squishy body. But you wondered if Sanji would like you even though you weren't pretty.

All that self consciousness went out the window every time you were in his presence. He never made you feel less, or ugly– in fact, the way he spoke to you always left you a blushing mess. He made you feel special, and in the moment, it would be enough. Until you saw him fawning over Nami or Robin, and then the sneaky voice in your brain would whisper quiet thoughts comparing you to them. You had no chance with him, and you knew that.

And that was fine. You could live with that, couldn't you? You had to, because wanting more than you should never ended well. All it would leave behind is rejection, hurt and awkwardness. So you pressed down the feelings and acted as normally as you could.

The moment you realised that you loved Sanji was probably a memory you would never forget. Although it was unforgettable for you, it probably wasn't particularly that unique to others. That didn't matter to you because it was a memory you cherished ultimately.

It happened when the ship docked on a peaceful little island. Everyone else was going out to enjoy their time, and you wanted to spend that time with Sanji. So, casually, you made your request.

"Sanji?" Your timid utterance of his name got an instant reaction from the chef, who straightened up and looked at you with hearts in his eyes.

"Yes, (y/n)-chan?" He asked, tilting his head slightly.

"Um, you're gonna go grocery shopping, right?" You had seen Nami complaining while handing him the money for the shopping.

"That's right," he leaned closer, almost too close but not quite into your personal bubble. Still, the proximity was enough for you to smell the mild smell of his perfume that left you a little weak in the knees. "Did you want me to get something for you, sweetheart?"

"I just," you hesitated, suddenly scared that he might realise your feelings and get disgusted. No, Sanji wasn't like that, you had to remind yourself. He would never treat you unkindly, even if he knew your feelings. "I heard you always do it alone. I thought you might enjoy some company?"

The hearts in Sanji's eyes disappeared as he stared at you like you were speaking gibberish for a few seconds. Under the intensity of that stare, you fidgeted and waited for his response.

"You're too kind, (y/n)-chan!" He finally cried, holding up your hands in his own bigger and colder ones. You flushed at the action, stammering out an actual gibberish response this time before you were whisked away by the blonde chef to town.

It felt all too much like a date to you, when you walked next to him. Sanji somehow made grocery shopping fun, or maybe that was just because of how much you liked him that anything with him was enjoyable? It didn't matter, you decided, because whichever it was, you couldn't deny that Sanji was equivalent to the sun on a cold day.

He enthusiastically showed you around, as if you were a tourist and he were a guide (when in fact, it was the first time in this town for both of you) causing you to giggle. Whenever you stopped to buy things, he would humour your curious questions on how to pick which vegetable and what cuts of which meat are the best. It felt awfully like a domestic date, one that made you smile when you imagined doing this with Sanji years down the line every week.

"And that's the last of it!" Sanji said happily, picking up the last bag. He was holding all the bags since the start, despite your insistence and now you were anxious, seeing him hold so many bags in his hands.

"Sanji, let me hold a few," you tried again, hands reaching out to take some of them. But Sanji just turned around so you couldn't reach the bags and grinned down at you.

"Nonsense, how could I let such a delicate lady hold such heavy bags?" His words made you flush in embarrassment. You were not delicate in any sense; surely, Sanji knew that too. And in spite of all his sincerity, the word just felt like it was mocking you.

"I'm… not…," you struggled to say, not wanting to argue but unable to keep it in either. With your chubby frame, no one had ever considered you as delicate.

"Let me do this for you, my love," Sanji's voice was soft and infinitely gentle, as if he was indeed holding something fragile in his hands. "I wouldn't feel good letting you carry anything when I'm more than capable."

"But Sanji!" you lightly whined, wringing your hands. "I don't feel good letting you carry all the burden either! Come on, just a few bags?"

Before Sanji could respond, you heard a scared squeak. Your brows furrowed and you looked around the marketplace, finding a man cornering a girl a few feet behind Sanji. She seemed uncomfortable and he was all in her personal space, saying something in a rough, sleazy voice that gave you shivers.

You were not a fighter, but the instinct to protect her overtook the rational part of your brain and you crossed the distance to where they were. Pushing him back, you stood in front of the girl to block her from him.

"Can't you see she's uncomfortable?" You said coldly. "Back off."

The man took an involuntary step back until his eyes fell on you. He reeked of alcohol and smoke and you felt like puking from the putrid stench coming off him but you held it together, trying to come off as more confident than you felt. His eyes roamed over your body shamelessly, and you felt dirty and uncomfortable from the action.

"Don't get in our business, fatty," he grinned, the smell of alcohol doubling the moment he opened his mouth. "Are you jealous that no one will ever give you the attention she's getting?"

The words stabbed you in the gut, even though you knew rationally that you were better off without the bad attention. That was the one perk of being conventionally average in looks– no one really looked at you, in good ways or bad. Or maybe you had just been lucky so far. But hearing him call you that, saying those words, even from someone like him, it hurt a small part of you. Before you could respond, a leg in black slacks came up and kicked the man down with such a force that everybody around paused, shocked by the sudden action.

Even you stepped back automatically, gasping when you saw that it was Sanji, still balancing all the bags perfectly while he had roundhouse kicked the man into the ground with so much force that you could see his teeth had become bloody and he was on the verge of unconsciousness.

"(Y/n)-chan doesn't need the attention of sewer rats like you," he said calmly, straightening back into position smoothly. "Her beauty only deserves the best of the best."

The sight of Sanji saying that with a calm face, his hair slightly tousled, his hands balancing the bags and his leg muscles rippling under the slacks – that image was imprinted in your heart and brain for the rest of your life. The words sent you into a shock, but when they finally processed, you couldn't deny the overwhelming realisation that crashed into you.

You love Sanji.

It wasn't just a silly crush, or something that could go away if you gave it time. The chef had unknowingly carved himself a place into your heart. He was taking over it, chamber by chamber.

"Sanji…" The word came out as a whisper, inaudible under the din of the market as people were talking about what was going on. You snapped out of it when you felt the girl behind you shuffle and you immediately squashed your thoughts down to examine them later. You turned around and asked her, "Are you okay?"

She looked very alarmed and upset, but she still shot you a grateful smile as she murmured, "Yes, thanks to you two."

"He didn't hurt you?" You asked, hands hovering over her as you looked to ensure if she was safe. A peek of crimson caught your eye when she raised her hand to rub her face. Her elbows had scraped against the rough brick wall in his tousling. "You have some scratches!"

"Oh," she turned her arms to look at the wounds, now feeling the burn after the adrenaline and fear response was receding.

"Come on, I'll treat it for you," you offered, opening your sling bag which had some emergency first aid. You usually carried it around for the members when you were off the ship, knowing that they were all too reckless to give a second thought to any wounds.

"Oh, no, no, I couldn't trouble you more!" She said, mortified but you gently shook your head, offering her a hand.

"It's no trouble," you reassured her. It took a little bit of convincing but she eventually calmed down and let you clean up the wound before you parted. Finally, you allowed yourself to look at Sanji, who immediately schooled his features so you wouldn't see the warm adoring look he was giving you the whole time. "Sanji… Are you okay too? You didn't hurt yourself, did you?"

"Do you think I'm that weak, sweetheart?" He smiled teasingly, but you felt the need to defend yourself.

"I know you are strong," you insisted, worrying your lower lip as you tried to look him straight in the eyes but kept getting flustered. "But even strong people get wounds. Just because they are strong, doesn't mean that they don't feel the pain. So tell me honestly, Sanji. Are you hurt anywhere?'

"No," he promised. "But if you're that worried, I'll let you check me all out back on the ship."

He ended that with a wink, and this time, you couldn't hold back the flush threatening to overtake your face again. Sanji couldn't help making the mood light again, but he had no idea of the effect his words had on you.

"Stupid," you weakly pawed at his arm, walking away before he could say anything. The blonde chef just laughed and followed you, face once again soft and fond as he watched you.

✿

Sanji may have been one of the only people onboard who was oblivious to your feelings, because a few of them did figure it out after watching the way you interacted with him. The first ones to realise were Nami and Robin, who called you out on it when the three of you were lying under the shade on the sunny deck.

"Really?" Nami had scrunched her nose, eyes critically analysing Sanji as he walked (danced, really) back to the kitchens after serving drinks to the three of you.

"Really what?" You asked, too busy sipping the cool drink to notice that she had noticed the way you had warmly thanked Sanji and given him a bright smile.

"Sanji?" Nami gave you a pointed look. The name made you freeze, and you tried to play it off.

"What about him?"

"Oh, come on!" Nami threw the slice of lemon that was on her drink. You caught it before it could fall on your shirt and muttered an indignant 'hey!' that the navigator ignored. "You like him, don't you?"

The words were enough to make you hide your face in embarrassment. Robin was smiling knowingly from the other side of Nami and you felt exposed, like they had both just turned you inside out.

"I do," you whispered after the few minutes of silent mortification that Nami had spent in self satisfaction.

"Why that loser though?" She said without any real bite. You knew she wasn't actually demeaning him; it was affectionate, in the way one would talk about their sibling's lovelife.

"Because!" You whispered, eyes running everywhere to check if no one else was around to hear you. "Have you looked at him? He's literally so pretty! He is kind, caring, and so, so thoughtful and generous. Without expecting anything in return, he is always giving and giving and he makes my stomach do silly things. He has curly eyebrows, Nami! I didn't think those could look good on anyone. Hell, I know I would look ugly with them, but he makes it work! It suits him, and he's so beautiful and I'm just–"

You collapsed onto your chair, your wet fingers from the condensation on the drink glass finding purchase in the dips of your face to hide it. Just talking about him was enough to get your heart beating fast, and the mortification of what you had just spilled to the two girls made you want the ground to swallow you already.

"You really like him," Robin's soft observation made you relax. She wasn't teasing you. You turned to look at her and caught the comforting smile she was sending your way.

"I was going to say you could do better," Nami turned to face you, swinging her feet around to your side, "but after hearing all that, I think… You two are perfect for each other. Despite all his antics, he has a good heart. And you'll be good for him, because you see him as he is."

"Yeah?" You couldn't help the small flower of hope blossoming in your chest.

"Really," Nami smiled, a rare genuine smile that was usually reserved for late night talks and reassurances in down times.

"You don't think…." You trailed off, fidgeting with the hem of your top, "he won't… find me good enough?"

"Are you crazy?" Nami snorted, picking up her drink. The melted ice had made the level go up so much that it was threatening to spill any moment. "You're better than anything he could dream of. I told you, didn't I? You would be good for him. Having someone like you in his life to ground him, I think there's nothing better than that. You're one of the sweetest people I have ever met. If anyone here isn't good enough, it's him."

"Hey now," you frowned, ready to defend Sanji but hearing his voice stopped you.

"Who isn't good enough for (y/n)-chan?" His face was stuck in a weird smile, like he was forcing it. He carefully placed the plate of pastries he had brought as he continued casually despite the silence, "I don't know who we are talking about but Nami-chan is right. No one is good enough for our lovely (y/n)-chan."

"Oh, look at that!" You hurriedly switched the topic, looking at the plate he had brought. The tiny pastries were adorable and colourful, looking so delicious that it would have made your mouth water if you weren't distracted at the moment. "This looks so good, Sanji. Seriously, if you keep feeding me like this, my weight will keep increasing!"

The last line became a teasing complaint, but you didn't expect Sanji to come to the side of your chair and lean down to where you were tilted. The proximity caused your eyes to widen, the blood thundering in your ears as he carefully tucked in a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, face so soft and warm that it make your insides feel like they were vibrating.

"All the more for me to love, so I would keep winning, wouldn't I, sweetheart?"

You choked, and the need to get away from him before you did something wild like grab him and kiss him got so much that your knee accidentally shot up and into Sanji's back, pushing him forward. The chef's eyes widened at the sudden attack, but he managed to not collapse on you by quickly holding onto the sides of the chair but now you were trapped in between his arms on top of the close proximity.

It made you so weak in the knees, and there was something hot and warm curling in your gut as you stammered gibberish, feeling like you were about to faint because Sanji's chest was practically touching yours and it was all too much.

"SORRY!" He hurriedly backed off the moment he got his bearings, and for the first time since you had come onboard, you saw him have a genuinely heavily flushed face. There was a little blood starting to leak from one of his nostrils and somehow, it helped you calm down. He was just as affected as you were. The idea was enough to lessen your embarrassment by a little.

"I'm the one who's sorry, Sanji," you said remorsefully, hiding your face completely in your hands this time. "I kicked you!"

"It wasn't on purpose," he said, right hand coming up to hide the blush on his own face. "I'm sorry for… for making you uncomfortable, (y/n)-chan!"

Uncomfortable? Did Sanji have any clue just how comfortable you actually felt? The problem wasn't that you were uncomfortable in the proximity; it was that you were too comfortable, to the point that you never wanted to leave. But that would be a dead giveaway of your feelings, right?

"Okay, this is just painful to watch now," Nami sighed, jolting the two of you. You had nearly forgotten that she and Robin were right there, and they had seen everything. She looked at you unhappily, mouth set in a tight line. "How about you two get a room and make out there?"

"Nami!" You cried out. She really just gave away your crush like that?!

"Just be grateful I'm not demanding money to make up for what I just had to witness," she sniffed haughtily, swinging her legs back onto the chair and pulling down her sunglasses. "Seriously, you two, go talk shit out. Or else, knowing you, you will just be awkward around each other and that's gonna be even more painful to watch."

She wasn't totally wrong. You were planning to avoid him, possibly by jumping off the Sunny and drowning to death since you didn't know how to swim. But that wasn't really a solution and even you could admit that.

"W- What's there to talk-?" Sanji seemed a little scared, wide eyes glancing between the three of you. Nami ignored him, and you were too flustered to look him in the eyes. Nami's suggestion was essentially for you to come clean, wasn't it? But that was easier said than done. The fear of rejection and the eventual awkwardness was gripping your insides in a chokehold, and you couldn't move your feet even if you tried.

"Sanji," Robin said calmly. "Pick up (y/n) and go to the kitchen."

"Huh?" You were startled at her words. Pick you up?! No way! "No, no way, I'm too… I'm too heavy, there's no need for that!" Even as you said that, you couldn't actually bring yourself to move.

"I don't really get it," Sanji admitted, looking between the three of you as he spoke, "but I can do that. (Y/n)-chan?"

"No, Sanji–" the protests died down the moment he bent down and picked you up like you weighed nothing. Even as he walked you across the deck, you couldn't help but think that it was kind of hot just how easily he picked you up. "Sanji…"

He didn't look at you until you were in the kitchen and the door was closed behind the two of you. He walked over to the table and then carefully placed you on it, as if you were a teacup made of fine china teetering with tea. Finally, he let his clear blue eyes stare down at you, the expression on his face more vulnerable and exposed than you had ever seen on him.

"Sanji?"

"I know I made you uncomfortable," he said quietly, backing away. His hands came up to rub away the blood but it only made it spread around and you winced at seeing that. You never wanted to see any blood on Sanji, if you could help it. "I touched your… you. It wasn't my intention, I swear! I just, I wanted, I–"

He abruptly shut up, looking frustrated with himself.

"Sanji."

He didn't look up, fists clenching at his side the moment you said his name.

"Come here, Sanji," you whispered, holding out your hands to beckon him closer. His eyes flickered over your face, as if trying to gauge out what you were feeling, even as he followed through your request without a second thought. You pulled out the handkerchief he had given you long back, and wiped away the blood over his upper lip and cheeks carefully before you picked up his hand. The thumb was bloody too, so you gently held the limb in one of your hands and wiped it with the other. "You didn't make me uncomfortable, Sanji."

He stayed quiet as you continued to wipe it until it was all gone.

"Didn't I?" He said the moment you were done.

"No," you said, looking up at him. You didn't let go of the hand, though you dropped the handkerchief beside you. Somehow, holding his hand seemed to give you the courage to make the admission Nami had told you to. "I… Sanji, I like you. A lot more than I ever thought it was possible to feel towards someone. I like you so much that it physically hurts when I see you flirting with other women. I like you so much that my heart feels warm whenever you are around, and I feel so safe in your arms that I never want to leave. I like it when you are close to me. But I know that you don't like me like that, so whenever you get so close, and I can't help but want you so much, it's painful for me. I never want to let you go."

Sanji's eyes darkened with every word you spoke, a gradual change that you didn't notice at first because you were all in over your head. His hands hovered around your waist as you finished.

"Who told you?" His voice was a little hoarse, and he cleared his throat the moment he realised how desperate he sounded.

"Told me what?" You asked timidly, looking down at your lap.

"That I don't like you?" Sanji's voice was a broken whisper like yours had been. "I have never heard anything more untrue than that. All this time, I wanted you but I kept my feelings to myself. Because you deserve so much, so much more than I am, so much more than I can give. I wanted and I wanted and I felt so greedy, wanting more and more of you, more than you would let me have– I wanted anything you were ready to give, and I also wanted everything you have to give. I thought you wouldn't want someone like me, when there are so many better options around for you–"

"What?" You couldn't help but laugh. All his words were making you delirious; this had to be some wild dream you had conjured up. It didn't feel real. None of it did. "I had better options around? Sanji, I was so sure you would never look twice at me! I never felt like I was pretty enough, or good enough to get your attention and you're telling me… I had better options? That's so–"

You kept laughing, body shaking from the weight of the laughter. Sanji stared at you, unsure hands still hovering around you. His fingers twitched from holding back the urge to pull you into him.

"You are the prettiest girl I have ever seen," he mumbled. "Not good enough to get my attention? Darling, you have had all of my attention ever since I met you. No other woman could compare to you from the moment you made your place in my heart known."

"Did I really have all your attention?" You asked, letting your insecurities bubble up. Now that you were both being honest, it was better to get it all out of the way, right? "Even when you looked at the other women…"

"I never looked at them the way I did you," his words were sincere, and in that moment, they were enough. You looked up at him, and your body broke into shivers the moment you realised the heat in his eyes as he stared down at you; like you were some unique dish he was finally getting the chance to eat after years of craving it.

"I didn't want the other options, Sanji," you whispered, the volume enough for the proximity you were in. "The only one I ever wanted was you."

You held his collars and pulled him in, and it was like he finally snapped, now that he had permission. His hands immediately grasped at your sides, gently holding the soft flesh there as he kissed you. And now it was your time to give and give, while he took from you like your lips were spilling with ambrosia and he was determined to get every drop. His warm breath fanned over your lips and the goosebumps on your skin rose again, your fingers tightening around the collars of his shirt.

When he let your lips go, he was greeted with the sight of your flushed and pleasantly buzzed expression, like you were drunk on him. Seeing you like that, because of him, it was enough to get him groaning.

"So beautiful," he whispered, leaving feather light kisses all over your face. "So gorgeous. All for me. All… for me to have?"

"Yeah," you whispered, looking up at him and seeing the devastated yet over-the-moon expression on Sanji's face. Even without words, he could always just cleave into your heart and press himself within its walls like they were made to fit him, and only him. "You can be greedy. Take all you want. I'm all yours."

°•❀•°

[multi-fandom-imagine]

A/n: This is so fucking cute

Slipping into her father's workshop hopping that he had some duckies for her to play with. Eye's going wide, she quickly rushed over to a large pile of duckies and in her rush to get to the rubber ducks he bumped into the table knocking down a large book that landed on her followed by a puff of smoke.

"Edna! Daddy has a gift for you!" Lucifer called out, he had been searching everywhere for his little princess.

Frowning, he stepped into his workshop. He didn't remember leaving the door open. "Edna?"

"Quack!"

Stopping in his tracks, Lucifer watched as a tiny little duck emerges from underneath his book that look remarkably like his daughter. "Well aren't you the cutest..I don't remember leaving you in here."

Lucifer stepped closer as he went to what he thought was a toy, that was until he grabbed a hold of the little duck. "You're remarkably soft...hehe...you're even wearing the same outfit I put in my little Edna this morning..."

The smile then dropped from his face when he noticed the book on the ground then back to the little duck in his hand. "Oh no."

"Quack!"

"Oh no....oh no...you're mother is going to kill me."

Duck!Edna ruffled her feathers as she jumped into her father's chest. Her little break nuzzling herself self into his neck, two sets of wings fluttering.

"Lucifer!"

Tensing, Lucifer slowly turned around. He quickly hid his daughter behind his back. Duck!Edna flapping her wings doing her best to slip out of her father's hand once she heard you step into the room.

"Hello my lovely, lovely wife. Is there something you need? You shouldn't be walking around so much, you are pregnant you know."

Frowning, you tried to peak behind his back wanting to know what he is hiding. "What's behind your back?"

"Nothing...nothing is behin! She bit me."

"Who bit you."

Lucifer winced though his eyes went wide as he quickly caught his daughter that started to fall, her little wings fluttering in the air. Letting out a nervous laugh, he held out his hand showing you what had bitten him.

Your eyes went wide seeing the little round baby duck in his hands. A pair of angel wings fluttering as the duck wings curled into her body. "Edna?"

"Quack!"

Taking a deep breath you slowly nodded your head placing a hand on your growing belly. "I am going to take a nap and when I wake up she better be back to normal Lucifer or you will be thinking twice on touching me again."

Scratching the top of his head, his shoulders dropping. "I will! I mean she'll change back....soon...." though he had a feeling that this particular spell would last more than a few hours.

"She better!" You called out.

[often-daydreaming]

Keep Running

In between one moment and the next reality quakes and for the briefest of moments Jason finds himself standing in the remnants of a destroyed Star City. He knows it's not real, that it's just some magical mumbo jumbo overlaying memory magic nonsense bleeding into their timeline but he can smell the smoke in the air from the fires and hear her tired laughter as the static filled image of a red haired woman sits down beside him. He knows her or at least this version of him does as they talk about the little suicide run they were planning in order to hopefully end things for good and Jason can feel how tired his alternate self is as he takes a seat on the ground beside her. It's all a rush of emotions and faint memories that were getting harder and harder to ignore before he's suddenly back on the Watchtower with every other available hero the League could call in stuck arguing about these stupid visions affecting heroes and villains all over the globe if some of Ra's latest movements were any indication. His men were searching everywhere for answers while others like Luthor were making more subtle inquiries. The only upside to all of this was the reactions coming out of Arkham but that didn't mean he wanted to be up here with the League nearly at each other's throats.

With everything he's managing to piece together through a couple of brief check-ins with Dickie and the girls he could see why B wanted answers.

As morbid as it sounded Dick and the others were a few of the lucky ones who were able to be pulled out of their memories faster since they were at ground zero when the Watchtower was pulled out of orbit. The quicker you died the quicker it was over but neither of them were as lucky.

In those jumbled memories him and Bruce were the only two left after Gotham went up in flames since Phantom went after them first and there were still a few lingering effects clinging to that since he could still remember what the older version of himself felt. It was somewhat muted now but some of it was still there and if he focused hard enough Jason could still see the makeshift doctor's office in his mind. He could feel the phantom pain and see her flowing red hair. She seemed so relieved to find him alive and he wanted his own answers but Impulse was in the wind.

The little speedster was gone before anyone could really recover from the sudden onslaught of memories and while Bruce was doing everything he could to figure out a plan of sorts the others weren't as lucky with Superman stuck bouncing between the moments of his own brutal death and worrying about his family's safety. Whoever or whatever Phantom was, he knew exactly where to hurt them with Jon nearly losing it in public after being forced to live through the memories of his mom dying and the man of steel's own death at the hands of some magical Martian whatever.

Wonder Woman seemed the most put together out of everyone but even she was kind of twitchy, her had never leaving the pummel of her sword as Zatara went over what he could piece together on his own since the bulk of JLD was still out of commission.

His own daughter was comatose from the magical backlash of whatever this was while Constantine was just missing, his home a mess of overturned books and hurried scribbles which left them on the back foot for now since the only solid lead anyone had was Impulse and Young Justice was closing ranks around their missing speedster.

With JLD in shambles and Ra's on the move Replacement was running his own investigation into whatever was going on and shutting everyone else out of his systems after the first attempt at locating Impulse through his tracker backfired horribly.

I blame my cough medicine and a love for Fallout for whatever this is turning into but I felt like adding onto Run a little. I wouldn't even begin to know how to explain it but I just have this image in my head of Bart and Danny in a Fallout like world but the whole memory thing could be anything really. I just like the idea of reality shifting to the left just enough that Bart suddenly remembers details about his past he'd forgotten thanks to time travel/reality resetting and he suddenly remembers Danny while the rest of his team remember bits and pieces of their missing teammate Phantom. Everyone else just gets doomsday memories cause I really don't care and mostly think it's funny so I'm either blaming this on the gauntlet from the movie or Clockwork but anyone could add something else if they want.

[yoursecrett]

Alone

Theo Nott X FemReader

Summary: Becoming a deatheater, betraying your family was something you never saw coming, but love got in the way, after losing your father Sirius. Theo, The Malfoy's and Bellatrix immediately took you in... But little did you know it was all a lie.

You felt eyes on you as you walked through the hallway, you knew exactly who was watching you they always were 'The Golden Trio' they somewhat believed you should rely on them and not the Slytherins, but why would you do that you weren't a Gryffindor like everyone wanted you to be.

Your father couldn't even bring himself to accept you being a Slytherin, he rarely ever spoke to you. Believing you were evil just like his cousins, but after a few years he began respecting you once again inviting you to dinners, but he was not impressed when he soon found but you were involved with a deatheater. The one and only Theodore Nott... Once your father passed away they were the only ones there for you, you had almost began believing that Harry was his child since everyone checked up on him and never you.

You grew a hatred towards Harry, he made your fathers death all about him, you knew deep down your father was probably helping Harry once again which led to his death so you vowed to make his life hell, the only way it doing that was joining the side he hated. Becoming a deatheater.

"Y/N"you heard him call after you, you ignored him as always, you knew he wanted your fathers ring claiming it needed protecting, "Y/N" he calls out again gaining your attention "What" you say turning to him "Listen I know your fathers ring means alot to you, but Voldemort is after it, you can't let him get a hold of it." You couldn't help but chuckle at him before walking away ignoring his pleas.

"Hey baby" Theo says smiling at you softly as you walk over "Hello" you say taking the cigarette off him dropping it on the floor "you know I hate cigarette breath" you say attaching your lips to his "I actually need to talk to you privately" Theo says pulling away, you nod confused following him into an empty classroom.

"You curled your hair today" He says leaning against a desk "Yes I decided to change it up for the special occasion, following aunt Bellatrix don't I just look like her". you say twirling around "you do, listen you trust me don't you" you nod slowly "Tonight I don't think we should stick around long, I think we should do our task and then leave."

"What why, our tasks are boring the only thing I need to do is deliver Harry to the dark lord" you say rolling your eyes "And I remember the dark lord telling me he doesn't care how he is delivered as long as he is alive, you really think I'm not going to have a little fun first" He nods before speaking against "I need you to trust me, give Harry to the dark lord then meet me at the tower."

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

The war had begun, Hogwarts was already destroyed you didn't realise how much it would affect you seeing your home ruined, but you had one job to do and you were doing it.

You had searched everywhere, yet he was nowhere to be found, the only place to look was the library, as soon as you walked in you saw him stood reading a book, almost like he was waiting for you.

"I knew you would arrive at some point" He says closing the book, "Are you here to kill me?" he questions making you shrug and raise your wand "Wait before you do I think you should see something" He says before disappearing through the shelves, you followed him your wand still pointing at his back as he stopped in front of a mirror.

"Making sure you look good for the dark lord huh" you walked beside him fixing your hair "He loved you, you know alot more than you know " Harry says breaking the silence "He always spoke of you, he was proud" you were growing more angry by the second "Don't you speak of him" you say pointing your wand back at him, his eyes weren't on you but instead on the mirror.

You turned towards it seeing your father staring back at you, his eyes on your dark mark you felt ashamed seeing the disappoint in your fathers eyes, causing you to immediately pull your sleeve down to cover it, "I never led your father to death, yes he helped us but the only reason he was there was due to the words of you too being there" you felt stuck in a trance staring into your father eyes.

"I know you won't believe me, but those close to you killed your father. Bellatrix, the dark lord, the Malfoys, Theo" He was lying he must of been, but you knew deep down it was true it made sense.

The night your father passed you were with Pansy reading. It was quiet in the great hall it seemed the people you mostly spoke too weren't here, Theo and Draco claimed they needed to catch up on work and it was never rare for Harry, Hermoine, Ron and the others to be missing.

“you are lying” you mutter feeling yourself begin to grow angry again, trying to stop the tears welling up in your eyes, you has never fully processed your fathers death I mean how could you. “I have no reason to lie to you”

You felt everything turn dark around you, Your father blowing you a kiss before disappearing “i have to go” you mutter before running out leaving Harry and the mission behind. The one place you were heading for was the tower, soon seeing him stood there smoking a cigarette.

He heard your footsteps causing him to turn around, confused by the hurt expression on your face, “are you hurt my love” he says beginning to walk forward concerned you wasted no time pulling out your wand holding it towards him.

“don’t you move any closer” you threaten watching him move back quickly holding his hands up “woah baby, what’s happened, put the wand down talk to me”

The tears were falling quickly from your eyes, the betrayal written clearly on your face “you killed him” your voice cracking, his face showing guilt immediately “baby, i haven’t killed anyone” he says walking closer again “i said stay back or i swear i will knock you off this tower” you threaten watching him nod and stop walking. “you killed my father, you made me hate him, you turned me into a death eater, you have ruined me” you shout, you could see him slowly begin to tear up.

“you destroyed my life” you sob breaking down, you hadn’t realised you hadn’t lowered your wand, Theo taking the opportunity to try and steal it from you “no” you shout as he tries to grab it, you begin to shout a spell towards him feeling the anger rise up in you again, only for your wand to fly off the tower, as arms wrap around your shoulders and collar bone, a wand being held up against your temple.

“you really think you can kill him” mattheo mutters into your ear, “you have really fucked yourself over” he says digging the wand deeper into your temple. “Matt it’s fine i can handle it” you glare towards Theo, “i would rather be locked up than be near him” you sneer hearing Mattheo chuckle. “as you wish” you close your eyes feeling Mattheo travel as you end up outside the Malfoy Cellar.

“Your father was a no good, a blood traitor” Mattheo says shoving you inside, “and i hope my father lets me have you when he realises you’ve betrayed us just like your father did” he kneels down stroking your face with his thumb “you always were beautiful, but at least you’ll die with a pretty face” he says chuckling standing up locking the gate behind him.

“fuck you” you say hearing him chuckle again, “now wouldn’t you love that” he says walking away

You didn’t know how long you had been sat in the cellar for feeling yourself grow insane, until you finally heard footsteps rushing down, you couldn’t lie you were truly frightened, but it was soon replaced by anger once your eyes set upon Theo.

“you’re alive” he says in relief unlocking the gate “it’s over, the dark side lost” he says, you stand up shocked “really” he nods “we can leave and be happy together, just like we talked about.” he says holding your face softly “we can forget all about here and start over, even if you want to live in the muggle world i’ll go with you” you sigh moving back.

“i can’t be with you” you watched his face fall, panic beginning to rise in him as he begin fidgeting with his suit “i can prove to you, how sorry i am, i can change, i’ll show you please, i love you y/n”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, it felt as though the whole world was silent. “I can’t love you Theo, i’m sorry” you mutter walking past him. Never looking back, you could hear his sobs as they echoed throughout the empty cellar.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to turn back around.

Should she forgive?

Could there be a longer part two.

What will the future hold for Y/n and Theo

[shesmymorphine]

run.

♰ slasher!abby anderson x fem!reader.

thought i’d leave a little something here in the meantime i get my ellie fic finished and i know the slasher trope is so overused but this is based off of a dream i had a few nights ago. a little rushed towards the end but u get it.

content includes: modern!au, descriptions of m*rder, blood, heavy petting, fingering n oral (both r!receiving), abby is mean and scary, lowkey a stalker, ergo a local outcast, but reader is also kind of a loser too. kinda unrealistic ONLY BC IT WAS BASED OFF OF A DREAM I HAD!

nsfw under the cut minors please do not interact.

————————————————————————-

faster.

is the word you kept mentally repeating to yourself as you sprinted through the woods, barefoot, cold, and scared. you could hear her heavy footsteps hitting the ground behind you, getting closer. closer. closer.

the beginning was fairly simple. you were reluctantly dragged to a party with a group pf people you barely knew. it was an attempt to “get you to socialize”, they said. but all in all, you ended up sitting alone while the rest of them were laughing, drinking, and enjoying the fresh summer breeze at a cozy, isolated lake house. you should have known better, really. with all of the numerous homicide reports spiking within your county, it was almost inevitable that this would happen.

and it all happened so fast. you’d gone to the bathroom for what seemed like five minutes, before you heard the loud, banshee like screech of one of your friends echoing through the entire house. when you’d so stupidly exited out of the confines of the bathroom, your eyes flew wide open at the sight before you.

a grisly scene of all of your friends grotesquely killed, stab wounds and large gashes littering their bodies. blood was smeared on the walls, the furniture. almost everywhere you looked, you saw nothing but the deep crimson essence adorning the walls.

that’s when you saw her.

a tall, buff, terrifying woman, wearing what seemed to be a bloodied white muscle shirt, and equally bloodied jeans. her long, dirty blonde hair was sprawled along her back and broad shoulders, and she was clutching the shirt collar of a boy you didn’t even know the name of, pulling the axe out of his chest with a loud grunt. as soon as she heard you step down the stairs, she snapped her head back to look at you, axe securely clutched in one large, gloved hand while she dropped the boy to the ground.

you recognized her as abigail anderson. the girl who seemed to be outcasted and feared everywhere she went, almost always for no apparent or good reason. you’d seen her before, bearing that permanent scowl on her face and hanging around the library or in your shared classes, but you’d never once been put off by her. you remember talking to her one day while you were at the library searching for a certain book, and at first, abby was confused as to why someone as kind as you wasn’t afraid of someone like her; maybe, just maybe, you could understand her. see her for who she really was.

ever since then, she had her sights set out on you.

your heart began to beat a million miles per second, and you just… stood there. too paralyzed with fear to do anything as the warm tears prick your eyes.

abby cocks her head, giving you a conniving, almost evil grin as she recognizes you, which you take as her giving you a head start. it felt like forever before you sprinted down the stairs, and out of the backyard door, not even bothering to grab your shoes on the way out. you run towards the treeline, chest heaving as the adrenaline pumps and courses through your body. your feet begin to ache as you step on the jagged rocks and branches, but you knew that was the least of your worries.

abby soon charges after you, breathing hard and heavy as she keeps a steady pace behind you. your cries of terror only spur her on even more, which only makes her run all the more faster, her strong legs never faltering.

you’re quick to run in all kinds of different directions, hoping to god that you would eventually lose track of her. but it was never that way with abby. not at all. she was hot on your trail, careful to mimic each sharp turn you made through the dark forest.

the loud music blaring from the speakers could still be heard even as you ran deeper and deeper into the woods, almost like a taunt. you didn’t dare look behind you, but you’re not quite watching where you’re going, either. you’re much too distracted with how the sound of abby’s footsteps never seem to fall away, and your foot gets caught on a lifted tree root, which makes you collide with the hard forest floor beneath you.

shit. you think to yourself, the wind almost instantly being knocked out of you. it was hard to breathe, and you tried your hardest to get back up, to absolutely no avail. you look up at the sky above you, hot tears streaming down your cheeks as you let out a strained sob. your ears began to ring as you rolled over onto your back, clutching and clawing at your own chest.

abby’s eyes fly open, and she stops in her tracks right in front of you, still clutching the axe within her hand. oh, this was precious, she thought.

you could hear her heavy, muffled breathing, and a loud, terrified scream leaves your throat as you hurriedly back up against a nearby tree. abby chuckles at the sight, and she grabs your arm with a rather excruciating grip, hauling you up against the large tree.

“gotcha.” she spits as she brings her other hand to hold the blade of the axe to your torso, which makes you scream and thrash against her even more violently.

the rancid stench of death soon fills your nostrils as she leans in even closer to you, pressing her nose against your cheek, and she keeps her lips close to your ear. abby then presses the blade deeper into your skin; not hard enough to break the supple barrier, but hard enough to make your consciousness falter.

“shut the fuck up.” she seethes rather harshly, and you unwillingly oblige. you’re visibly trembling beneath her, shaking your head, pleading and begging for her to spare you. your eyes continuously dart between the blood stained blade pressed firmly against your skin and her face, your hands shaky as you try your hardest to push her away from you.

of course, it’s no use. her large frame completely dwarfs yours in shadows, and you let your head fall back against the tree as you keep on sobbing.

“please, don’t… don’t kill me, i won’t tell anyone, abby, i swear, just please don’t fucking kill me.” you beg, the words coming out shaky and weak, which makes abby laugh into your ear. her breath is warm and wet against your skin, and it sends a wave of electricity down your spine.

she then suddenly stops for a moment, still breathing hard against the skin of your neck. you knew her name. the precious girl she’d always been after knew her name. it was the biggest sense of humanity that had ever befallen her, and she soon finds herself questioning what she had been doing all these years.

soon enough, abby snaps out of her confused train of thought, and pulls away to look at you. her cerulean eyes pierce into your own as she mocks your words with an undeniable coldness in her voice. your legs ached and trembled, and they would’ve given out on you had it not been for the sheer adrenaline still pumping through your system.

she moves to grab your face with one of her gloved hands, and she gives you that same, horrifying smile again. her eyes were low and narrowed as she began to speak again, “stupid girl. you really should have known better.” she coos at you, before she pulls the axe away from your stomach, hauling it back above your head before jamming it deep into the bark of tree with a grunt, missing your head by just a hairs breadth. sap begins to bleed around the blade, and it drips down to fall on one of your shoulders, which forces you to face the reality of the situation once more.

you let out a horrified sob as she does this, body still trembling beneath her inhumanly strong grip; but the way that she was breathing, the way that she was grunting as she held you firmly against the tree, and the harsh rasp of her smooth voice… it sent a wave of arousal coursing through you. this woman had just butchered the people you were with, and could very easily lead you down that same path; but as soon as she saw your face flush red as you began to writhe against her, it was almost as if a switch had flipped in her brain.

abby scoffs and shakes her head, hurriedly pulling off one of her gloves with her teeth before spitting it off to the ground. with one large, free hand, she takes both of your wrists, pinning them above your head before she messily shoves the other one down your shorts. your hips begin to buck at her touch as she begins to harshly rub at your clit, and abby’s breath comes out shaky when she feels your pooled up slick coating her fingers. “really? you’re fucking getting off on this?” she asks, and you whine, shaking your head at her proffer. your body, though, has a much different reaction.

you keep on moaning for her, completely going against your best interests. her fingers were thick and long, and you really couldn’t help but chase that senseless feeling of alleviation. she then slowly but surely eases one of her fingers inside your achy hole, and you continue to try and break free from her strong grip, in order to grasp at her shoulders, her hair, anything.

“s’fucking tight. such a needy slut.” abby scolds you, and you bite down hard on your lower lip as she seemingly expertly curls her digit up against your sweet spot. you keep your head firmly planted against the tree behind you. you roll your hips against the palm of her hand, eyes rolling towards the back of your skull as you grind your swollen bead against the calloused part of her hand.

you look up to meet her gaze again, chest fluttering when you see her staring back. abby’s brows were furrowed, and pieces of her hair stuck to her face with sweat. you study the bridge of her freckled nose, and the way that her pretty pink lips curved downwards. your eyes fell to her large, blood stained muscular arms, and her long, murky blonde hair cascading down her strong, broad shoulders. you hurriedly take in each one of her features, and a huge wave of confusion washes over you.

how could anyone have ever been afraid of her?

abby begins to feel the unfamiliar pang of her own stomach beginning to flutter as you continued to gaze at her, and she furrows her brows even more. no one had ever looked at her like that before. “the fuck are you staring at?” she seethes, and she shoves another finger inside of you.

your eyes go wide and your cunt flutters at the sudden intrusion, which draws a loud cry from your lips. your face continues to burn with embarrassment, and abby continues to breathe heavily as she bangs her fingertips up against your g spot. she groans when she feels your warm, gummy walls tightening around her fingers.

“abby… abby, s’too much..” you hiccup, and abby scoffs again, tugging you forward by your wrists. but with each time her name falls from your lips, the feeling bottoms out at her own cunt. “oh, it’s too much? that’s too bad. stop fuckin’… squirming. you should learn to be more grateful.” her voice is hoarse and mean, so mean. but you try your hardest to stop squirming, arching your back off of the tree and standing on your tip toes as abby continues to fuck you.

your eyes fall shut as you feel her leaning into you again, her hair gently falling over your chest as she buries her face within the crook of your neck. she smells of dirt and sweat, and her skin was warm to the touch. abby soon drags her lips along the valley between your jaw and neck, which only heightens your senses. she notices this, taking it upon herself to gently nip at the exposed skin.

you begin to desperately rock your hips against her palm, the inevitable and uncontrollable feel of your orgasm beginning to pool up at the bottom of your stomach. abby clicks her teeth at this, dragging her ministrations to a stop. you whine and let yourself slump back against the tree, still moving your hips around in slow circles all while her fingers are still buried inside of you.

“please… abby, please. i…” you stop yourself before you can say anything else, making sure to keep direct eye contact with her. your chest heaves and you let out a soft whine, and abby’s lips twitch in response. you find your gaze darting from her stare to her lips, and you whine as you begin to rock your hips again. she slowly, almost unknowingly leans in until you’re nose to nose, and she curls her fingers up inside you one last time. a quiet whine leaves your throat, and it’s clear she’s lost in the moment, you both are, completely forgetting about any previous circumstances regarding anything else that’s happened tonight.

“i need you.” your voice is so small, but so clear. just when you’re about to press your lips to hers, she pulls away to look at you for a second, her expression curled up into a hateful, almost disgusted sneer, but once your words register in her brain, it falters a little bit.

no one had ever needed her before; how foolish little abby was.

abby slowly pulls her hand out from your shorts to rest on your hip, and her breath begins to hitch as she suddenly drops to her knees before you. your wrists are now free from her crushing grip, but you don’t dare to move, or run. you were in too deep, and so was abby. you both knew that at this point.

your stomach flutters as she looks up at you, her eyes low and narrowed. abby pulls off her other glove with her hand, before she can move to hastily pull your shorts off of your hips. you let her, moving to entwine a hand in her hair. abby carefully leans in a little closer to your clothed cunt, before she presses her nose into your clothed mound, shutting her eyes and inhaling your musky scent.

she gently nudges your clit with her nose, before she slowly darts her tongue out to lap at your clothed slit, hoisting one of your thighs up over one of her shoulders. you shut your eyes at the feeling, the back of your head hitting the hard bark of the tree for what seems like the millionth time tonight.

you groan, slowly beginning to roll your hips against her face, which makes her bring one large hand up to grope at the fat of your ass. abby lets her eyelids flutter shut as she continues to grunt and lap at your cunt, and she slowly pulls away from you to gently grab at the hem of your panties with her teeth. your eyes are hazy and your body feels weak when you feel her start to pull them down, and you let out a quiet gasp when the cool night air hits your now exposed sex.

abby stares in awe once she sees just how wet you are, pulling your glistening folds apart to watch your slick drip down the insides of your thighs. you look away in embarrassment as she does this, and abby can feel her own mouth beginning to water at the sight before her. she didn’t even know she could have an effect like this on someone.

“fuck… look at that.” she begins, running her fingers over your now budded clit, gently massaging your soft bundle of nerves. she chuckles when she feels your arousal beginning to coat her fingers again, and she moves to spread your legs just a little wider. your hands are instinctively moving to rake themselves through her hair, and you can feel her hot breath panning over your swollen folds, which makes you inch yourself just a little closer to her lips.

abby obliges, licking a long, unhurried stripe from your hole to your clit, which makes you buck your hips against her mouth. you grip her hair a little harder as she moves to gently suck on your clit, only spurring her on even more.

“oh… fuck, that’s so good, abby. so good.” you gasp out into the air, no one else listening but abby and the trees surrounding you. she grunts at your praise, letting that all too unfamiliar feeling of her stomach fluttering consume her whole. she continues to slowly lap at your swollen, achy cunt before slowly moving her hands up your thighs to grab a hold of your hips.

you cry out for her, and for her only. your soft oh my god’s and babbled words of appraisal as she continues to make a mess out of your poor pussy, they’re all for her. abby couldn’t count how many times she’d envisioned this while fucking herself late at night in her bed, and now that she’d finally had you, she’d be sure to never let you go.

you look down to see your chest heaving and abby’s pretty face nestled comfortably in your now soaked thatch of curls, and the sight makes your legs go even weaker. your heart races even faster in your chest as you clutch at her hair, moving one free hand to grope at the fat of your own tit to manage the feeling of her tongue prodding at your entrance.

abby notices how you’ve began to grind your pussy even harder against her tongue, and she slides a free hand down from your hip to find post on your inner thigh, inching dangerously close to your slicked entrance. you welcome her touch, still tugging and pulling at her blonde locks, shutting your eyes as she continues to flatten her tongue out against your clit.

abby loves the way you taste; too forgiving and saccharine against her chapped lips. she laps up all of your sweet juices, eating you out like a woman starved. your breath begins to hitch as she starts to suck harshly, all while swirling her warm, wet tongue along the underside of your pussy. abby pulls your hips even further into her face by grabbing at your ass, and she pushes her spit back up against your messy, pulsating cunt.

the feeling is so fucking vulgar, but it feels so fucking good. you’re sure to let her know it, letting out mixes of cries and moans combined together, babbling her name and clawing at her scalp. abby moans up into your cunt each time you harshly yank at her hair, the pain going straight down to her own, neglected pussy. that tight feeling in your abdomen grows stronger and stronger with each time abby sucks and licks, and abby loves how desperate you’re becoming. all because of her.

“shit… i’m gonna cum, abby… gonna cum…” you warn, voice breaking when you say her name. abby doesn’t respond, though. she only slightly picks up her pace, and if it weren’t for her strong grip holding your legs firmly in place, you’re certain your knees would have buckled and given out on you. all it takes is one lick and a single kiss to your clit for you to finally unravel into her mouth, and you violently grip at her hair once more. abby’s breath falls heavy, and she soon plunges her fingers inside of you to fuck you through your orgasm, and a loud, strained cry leaves your throat at the added overstimulation.

“s’fucking pretty.” abby mutters under her breath as you continue to become undone on her fingers, and when you look down to see her face, your own flushes a deep shade of red. her nose and lips are coated in your juices, and they glisten underneath the bright glow of the moon behind the trees. as vulgar as the sight below you is, she looks so beautiful. neither of you say anything, and all you can do is move to cup her face with one of your palms when she finally stands back up. abby flinches at first, but she reluctantly leans into your touch, her breath faltering as the soft skin of your palm comes into contact with her cheek.

the silence is absolutely deafening. her eyes continue to bore holes into your own as she opens her mouth to say something, anything, but she can only exhale. “abby…” you begin, but you’re conveniently interrupted by the loud blare of police sirens heading towards the lake house, and abby sinks her head down, pulling herself away from you completely. “shit…” she mutters as the red and blue lights flash over her face, and she grabs her axe from the tree, quickly scooping her gloves off of the forest floor.

you can feel that familiar sense of panic sinking into your chest once more, and she quickly helps tug your panties and shorts back on. your heart flips at the sudden kind gesture, and before abby can take off running into the darkness of the forest, she presses her lips to your ear again. “meet me at the library next saturday.” is all she says, before she quickly takes off into the darkness behind her, leaving you alone against the tree. her footsteps begin to fade away, and instead of a horrid sense of panic, you’re filled with a newfound sense of… relief? you slump back against the tree, knitting your brows as you hear the policemen getting closer to you, the glare from their flashlights nearly blinding you.

abby knew that this wasn’t the last she’d be hearing from you. it was far from it. she could still taste you on her tongue as she ran back to her cabin, the image of your flushed face never leaving her mind.

[atinyslittleworld]

Ghost Of You

idol!seonghwa x f!reader

Genre: angst, breakup

Word Count: 1,131

Warnings: mention of crying

a/n: this was requested by @arki-sha, it took me sometime to complete it but I hope that you like it, thank u so much for the request, enjoy!!

Inspired by the song "Ghost Of You" by 5sos

Seonghwa stared blankly at the ceiling, his mind replaying the words that had ended everything. The apartment was silent, eerily so, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath, waiting for her to return. But she wouldn’t. The truth settled heavy in his chest every morning as he forced himself out of bed, only to find the world she’d left behind scattered around him, pieces of her clinging to every corner of his life.

He pushed the covers away and stood, the weight of his grief anchoring him to the floor. As he moved towards the kitchen, his eyes caught the small vase of dried flowers sitting on the windowsill. They had been vibrant once, fresh and full of life when she had placed them there, insisting that the place needed "a touch of nature." Now they were brittle and lifeless, much like his heart. He couldn’t bring himself to throw them away, though. It was as if discarding them would erase the last trace of the life they had once shared.

In the kitchen, Seonghwa reached for a glass from the cabinet, his mind numb with the routine of the motion. He filled it with water, staring at the clear liquid as if it held answers to questions he didn’t even know how to ask. When he lifted the glass to his lips, his breath caught. There, barely visible but unmistakable, was a faint lipstick stain. A remnant of her. A moment of carelessness on her part, a mark that had been left behind. It was from a night just a month ago, when she had been standing right here, laughing as they cooked dinner together.

He’d missed it in his half-hearted attempts to clean up after she left. The sight of it now brought an ache to his chest, a sharp reminder of how real her absence was. It was a ghost of her presence, lingering in the mundane details of his life. He set the glass down with trembling hands, unable to take another sip.

The days had turned into weeks since their breakup, but time hadn’t dulled the pain. If anything, it had only sharpened the edges, cutting deeper with each reminder of what once was. Seonghwa found himself wandering through the apartment, aimlessly moving from room to room, as if searching for something he knew he’d never find.

He stepped into the bedroom, where the scent of her perfume still lingered faintly in the air, clinging to the pillows and sheets. His eyes fell on the pile of laundry he’d been avoiding, and with a heavy sigh, he began to sort through it. As he lifted a worn, oversized T-shirt from the pile, his heart twisted painfully. It was one of his, one she’d always worn to bed. The fabric was soft from too many washes, and her scent still clung to it, despite his attempts to move on, to let her go.

He remembered how she used to wrap herself in it, how it hung loosely on her small frame, making her look even more delicate than she was. It had been a comforting sight, something he’d come to associate with the warmth of home, of love. Now, it was a cruel reminder of everything he’d lost.

Seonghwa pressed the shirt to his face, inhaling deeply. The tears came then, unbidden and unstoppable, sliding down his cheeks as he held onto the last piece of her he had left. He had thought he was prepared for this, that he’d seen it coming, but the reality of it was so much harder than he’d imagined. There was no way to prepare for the emptiness she’d left behind, the gaping hole in his life that he had no idea how to fill.

He tried to push the pain away, to focus on something else, but it was no use. Everywhere he looked, there were traces of her, little pieces of the life they had built together. The framed photos on the wall, the books she’d left on the coffee table, even the half-empty bottle of her favorite wine in the fridge. It was like living in a museum of their love, each item a relic of a time that felt both distant and painfully close.

Desperate for some form of relief, Seonghwa walked to the bathroom, hoping the mundane task of showering would offer a distraction. But even there, he wasn’t safe from the memories. Her toothbrush was still in the holder, her shampoo still in the shower. He had avoided touching any of it, as if doing so would mean accepting that she was really gone.

The sight of her things, so ordinary and yet so painfully significant, broke something inside him. He sank to the floor of the bathroom, burying his face in his hands as the sobs wracked his body. He hadn’t cried like this since the night she left, when he’d stood in this very spot, listening to the sound of her suitcase wheels rolling across the floor as she walked out of his life. He had been too numb then, too shocked to fully comprehend what was happening. But now, the reality of it was inescapable.

He couldn’t escape the memories, couldn’t escape the reminders of her that haunted every corner of his life. And maybe that was the worst part of it all—not the fact that she was gone, but the fact that she was still everywhere, still a part of his life in all the ways that mattered. Her absence was like a wound that refused to heal, and he didn’t know if it ever would.

Seonghwa spent the rest of the day moving through the apartment like a ghost, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he were afraid to disturb the fragile peace that had settled over the place. He didn’t know how to move on, how to let go of the life they had shared. All he knew was that he couldn’t keep living like this, trapped in a past that was never coming back.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the floor, Seonghwa found himself standing at the window, staring out at the city below. The world was still turning, still moving forward, even though it felt like his had come to a standstill. He knew he had to find a way to keep going, to find some kind of solace in the midst of the pain. But for now, all he could do was hold onto the memories, even as they tore him apart.

Because as much as it hurt to remember, it was the only way he could still feel close to her. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to keep him going, one day at a time.

[aluria-sevhex]

THE KING FUCKING ONE-SHOT ME

notes:

-why am i being so anxious lol. if i die i can loop again it's fine

-i love this game's music

-wtf is the stuff all over the place and the gate

-i love how when Sif forgets terms for stuff like the kiln the others will remind him

-a mirror...

-"everyone say fromage!" F R O N C H

-Siffrin has a lot of pocket space

-aw, Odile's eyes light up when she's learning things

-woah this Sadness is just giant hands

-I FOUND MIRA'S ROOM

-ooo Mirabelle likes horror

-the barrels. are EVERYWHERE

-discussion of crafting your body has led to the wonderful sentence "High heels hurt my feetsies..." thanks Isabeau

-woah Sif's cloak is magic

-Isabeau's so considerate of the fact that Sif doesn't like being touched :]

-ok where the fuck is Siffrin from and how did they get the cloak

-FUCK. LOOP KNOWLEDGE BLUNDER

--aw that's kinda cute how Odile will ask questions about stuff she already knows to get the emotional component

-huh. this gate has weird writing that they can't read. and the gate looks like... stars... hmmmmmmmm

-CREST TIME

-i picked the wrong way :( WELP TIME TO EXPLORE THIS ROOM

-ah yes the "handsome young men falling into beautiful heartbreaking madness" horror anthology

-THE SCHADENFREUDE!!!!!!!!!

-openphrase123

lol

-aight i'm looping now

-um. Loop. what would happen if you saw the others

-what's up with that book Bonnie was reading...

-WAIT FUCK I MEANT TO CHECK THE LOCKED HOUSES I'M GONNA HAVE TO LOOP AGAIN

-the world would be inside of the universe...

-yeah i can't be assed to search the entire House for the book rn that's like 2 floors i've cleared. i'm looping forward.

-the little nodding Siffrin when he zones out is cute

-woah. observatory...

-hmmmm Mira can't remember who studied in the observatory. maybe this is tied to Loop? or the starry gate? or the disappearing island?

-trying to read the books gives you a headache

-istg this is some Gaster shit

-COLOR? WAIT THE WORLD IS MONOCHROME. HOW IS THERE A BOOK ON COLOR THEORY

-Siffrin where the fuck are you from

-welp. looping time

-lol the crying key is in the super duper cool notebook

WAIT THAT'S A MEAN THING TO DO. THE GAME IS BEING MEAN LMAO

-loop-de-doop-de-doop

-might as well go do some things in Dormont if i'm looping anyway

-ok time to loop forward to floor 2

-uh-oh. Sif is having a crisis over not being good at their job. :(

-looping forwards. round and round and round we go...

-"if you hadn't picked up the key wouldn't we be stuck?"

Live Siffrin reaction: (Yes.)

-lol bathroom break. fictional characters NEVER go to the bathroom

-Sif whaddya need to do alone?

-lol

-Sif is SO glad to have the loops

-:0 intact Change God statue

-KEYKNIFE

-what the- they got teleported! this is sus...

-feel like the bit where Sif laments the loss of the keyknife and thinks they could've found another use for it might be foreshadowing...

-FUCK FUCK FUCK MIRA IS KO

-fml Odile is the only one left standing

-first game over damn

-jesus fucking christ this is a bleak game over screen

-is he gonna finish himself off

-fuck that's bleak

-ok he finished the Sadness off

-WAIT DO I HAVE TO GO THRU FLOOR 3 *AGAIN*??? THIS IS BULLSHIT

-grinding for exp

-had to go to dinner. back

-it's nice when Bonnie gets to deal the final blow :]

-time to try again!

-I DID IT :D

-uh-oh. Mira is freaking out at the sight of another frozen person :(

-oh her roommate :(

-Mirabelle you're not useless :(

-HOLD UP. THE *HEAD HOUSEMAIDEN* GAVE MIRABELLE THE ABILITY TO NOT GET FROZEN?

-hehe Odile is hungry. SNACK TIME... maybe *i* should eat more.

-love how crab is used like a swear word

-Siffrin's like "i"m fine!" and i'm like "ARE you?"

-hey King why do you have stars on your gauntlets

-THE KING JUST REFERENCED SIF SPECIFICALLY?

-...what does he need to remember...

-Siffrin is sus

-DID HE JUST FUCKING 1-HIT US?

-this is one hell of a game over

[lantanasmuttyfanfics]

Hai!! Can you do a dexven fic where Raven spot Dexter kissing Cupid on the chicks ( perharps smutty? Between dexven)

First no hate to Cupid. Not here to villainize her or throw hate at her this is just for the fic purpose

Anyway I’m a ride or die Dexven shipper and while I appreciate dex/cupid shipper Dexven is the one for meee

Hope you enjoyed and have a great dayy!!

—————————

Raven didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t this. Briar had organized a party for some occasion she couldn’t remember and to say it was… intense would be an understatement.

Streamers and banners lined the walls, two lines of tables filled to the brim with food and drinks, she’d even managed to get a disco ball.

“Come on Raven! We’ll be old hags by the time you get moving.” Raven listened to Apple as she pulled her further and further in the hall, leading her to Grimm knows where.

In truth she didn’t really want to be there, she had already had a full booked weekend and a party on a Monday night was not something on her bingo card.

But after all her friends urged her, saying it wouldn’t be the same without her, she’d obliged and now here she was getting dragged by Apple.

“Raven!” The two girls turned to look at Darling who was speed walking to them. They slowed down and walked in pace with a slightly panting Darling.

“Everything ok?”

“Hmm? Oh yeah Dexter asked me to tell you that he was looking for you.”

“And he couldn’t tell her himself because…?

“Oh it was in case he couldn’t find her.”

Raven felt her heart flutter a little at the mention of the one prince who made her heart swoon. Maybe it was because he was one of the only people who didn’t treat her like a monster when he first saw her or-.

“Last I know he was by the photo booth.” Raven blinked as she realized she’d been lost in thought. Heat of embarrassment made its way to her cheeks as she nodded at Darling.

“Thank you.”

She quickly walked off, a small pep in her step as she looked around. Hoping to catch a glimpse of his dark hair or blue eyes, eyes that seemed to mesmerize her.

But as she made it to the photo booth, Dexter was knower to be seen. In fact the only people near were a group of fan girls and Daring by a table.

Raven internally sighed as she made her way over. She’d figure that his brother would have seen him if he was here earlier.

“Daring?”

“-and then I unleashed my sword at the dragon-.”

“Daring.”

“-fire blasted everywhere and… oh hi Raven, what are you doing here.”

Raven gritted her teeth, she really didn’t have the patience today and Daring was testing to its limits. “Just wondering where Dexter is.”

Daring paused for a second, turning his attention to her and behind her head searching for his brother. “Sorry but I haven’t seen him.”

She quietly thanked him and walked off in further search.

—

Dexter pushed through heaps of dancing bodies as he searched for Raven. Hoping to catch a glimpse of her violet eyes or ebony hair.

Tonight was the night, he’d decided, that he would finally confess to Raven his feelings for her. It seemed the right time after spending the last few weeks together constantly.

Suddenly as he passed by the photo booth he turned his head as he thought her heard her voice. Sure enough there he found Raven talking to… to Daring.

Why did she always have to be talking to Daring? Whenever he seeked her out, surprise surprise guess who is there making her smile. Daring.

He felt agitation rise within him, felt a bitter sort of jealousy as she walked closer to his brother.

Without an other word he spun on his heel, walking straight to an open table without looking in front of him.

He heard a feminine shriek as he slammed straight into a girl. “Oh Grimm I’m so sorry- Cupid? Here let me help you up.” Cupid giggled as he offered his hand, dusting her dress off.

“It’s ok. Accident happen. Anyway why do you look so glum? Not enjoying the party?” She lead them to the table, sitting next to him on the couch.

“No… it’s just- never mind. How’s your night going Cupid.” The girl smiled, her eyes lighting up as she scooted closer her heart bursting.

“Oh it’s going alright. Although… I really want to dance.” She fluttered her lashes at Dexter hoping that the message came across loud and clear.

Sometimes boys were slow.

“Then would you care to dance?” Cupid was jumping up before he could finish his sentence, pulling him up with her and practically running to the dance floor.

Just then a slow, gentle love song from some famous singer came on. Cupid rested her cheek on Dexters shoulder, a content smile on her face.

They swayed in the music for what felt like forever for her. The atmosphere screamed romantic and the buzz inside her yelled at her to test the waters.

So Cupid lifted her head, gazing directly to a seemingly distracted Dexter as she rose to the tiptoes. She’d kiss him and see where things went from there.

Dexters eyes widened as he saw Cupid reaching up, her lips slightly puckered and her eyes fluttering closed. He didn’t want to kiss her, so in his panic he turned his head.

He didn’t want to embarrass the poor girl, clearly he was giving her mixed signals. Instead he turned his head and placed a soft kiss on her cheek.

—

Raven found Dexter pretty quickly after, it was hard to miss him when he was standing in the middle of the dance floor with Cupid, swaying to some love song.

She thought her heart couldn’t construct much more, that she couldn’t feel more jealous and remorseful as she watched them.

But then his lips met her cheek, and his kissed her.

Raven let out an unconscious gasp, her hand clutching her skirt tightly as she went to run off. Yet as she did her eyes suddenly met his own.

They stared at each other for only a second before Raven tan off, her mind dizzy and swimming with endless possibilities. Did she get it all wrong?

Did she think Dexter liked but instead she was getting mixed signals? Maybe she read into it too much. Besides they weren’t even a thing, or anything close to one.

“Raven!”

She paused in her steps, shivering as the cool air hit her bare skin. She watched as Dexter ran after her, his eyes nearly frantic.

“Wait please!”

She did. Grimm curse her she did and stayed rooted on the spot as he now stood before her, his hair softly blowing in the wind as she stared at her.

“It’s not what it looks like.”

She tilted her head, why was he even concerned with telling her this when they so clearly weren’t together.

“I don’t understand…”

“The kiss with Cupid. It’s not what it looks like.”

Dexters eyes were searching her face, no doubt for any hints of what she was feeling. Instead Raven gave him a friendly smile as she stepped forward.

“There’s nothing to explain. It’s very clear Dexter.”

“I know but-.”

“You really don’t need to. I completely understand.”

“You do! Oh thank Grimm I-.”

“We are just friends after all. So it doesn’t… matter.”

Dexter was left to gaze at where Raven once stood as she gave him a little smile and walked of.

Friends… of course they were friends.

—————————

If I had a coin for every time these two unintentionally friend zoned one an other I’d be riiicchhh

Anyway got science exams starting Monday and safe to say is that I’m going to kms because tf do you mean I already have exams

Hope you enjoyed and have a great dayy!!

[techs-goggles9902]

Two Souls Entwined

Part 2 Captain Rex x oc

A/N: Im back! Told you I would be posting this week. Open to criticism!! This isn’t my best work, so FEEL. FREE. TO. CRITICIZE!!!

Word count: 1133 (I know, I went overboard)

Niva watched as her buir fought for his life; kicking, biting, punching, anything to defeat the enemy Mando. Both Mandos fought without their helmets, since they were kicked away by their opponent.

The pair tousle around the mud, in between the bodies of the fallen. Niva’s friends, comrades, and her family. All gone within a matter of minutes, all 50 have died to the hands of this white and red armored Mando and his lackeys.

I can’t watch him die… Niva gasps and remembers her buir gave her a small modified handheld Verpine Shatter Rifle for her birthday last year. Her newest birthday present, the little silver necklace, slaps against her collarbones as she scrambles to find her duffel bag.

Her birthday was last week, but was she really going to tell him that? She rummages through it, tossing her clothes aside, and finds the blaster tucked between her book and her helmet, wrapped in a shirt.

Her armor was too big for her, and they haven’t gotten a chance to reforge it, so the armor is neatly stacked in her duffel bag. Niva checks the charge on the blaster.

Thank the Maker, it’s full.

Sliping the barrel of the blaster ever so slightly through the tent flaps, Niva closes an eye to aim better. Through the scope, alining her crosshair to hit the Mando, she tries not to hit her buir, but it’s so hard to find an opening when they’re both thrashing around in the mud.

Three… two… dead.

She pulls the trigger, the blast is nearly silent as the blaster bolt leaves the barrel and into the Mando’s neck.

That’s the good thing about Niva’s clan of Mandalorians. They don’t miss. The Mando falls to the ground with a muffled thud, the sludge making a squelching sound as he lands face first in it.

Niva gasps, holstering the Verpine and dashing out of the tent, her curls flying in the wind behind her. Her boots are covered in mud as she runs down the hill, sliding the last few yards on her knees towards her buir.

The adrenaline ebbs away, the urge to fight is slowly drowned out by the pain of his injuries. He’s beaten to a pulp and can barely lift his head. Blood runs down his nose and into his mouth, there's an arch on the bridge of his nose that shouldn’t be there.

“Ad’ika…” his words are slurred as he tries to bring his bloodied hand to Niva’s cheek.

“Buir…” Niva takes his hand and gently holds it in her lap. Bodies are everywhere, not just her allies but her enemies, the red and white armored Mandos. She doesn’t have to check his pulse, scan him, or even look at his injuries. He’s dying.

“Nami… She called for… The distress beacon…” He rasps, coughing up blood onto his chest plate. Nami was one of Buir’s closest friends; Niva searches the land for her and finds Nami’s corpse lying face down in a small pond, the water now stained a muddy crimson.

Niva’s lip quivers and she bites her cheeks to keep from crying. She’s aware of the extent of her father’s wounds and she knows that when his deadly grip on her slowly ceases, her buir is dead. Her shoulders shake as she drops her father’s hand gently. Sobs rack through her small form.

He’s gone. He’s dead…

Like many children who went into battle with their buirs, Niva always prepared for the worst. But no matter how many times she rehearsed this moment in her head, nothing could prepare her for it to really happen. Cabur Veen, one of the most well known war heroes of Mandalore’s recent history, is dead.

But he was more than a hero. He was a father of three, a husband, a friend, and a son.

Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum. Not gone, merely marching far away… Right, Buir? You always told me so…

A small rustle from behind her causes Niva to turn around. Letting out a small gasp, her fingers tighten around the Verpine but it’s too late. The red and white armored Mando, who should be dead, is pointing his blaster at Niva.

No… No, he shouldn’t be-

Bang.

Thin tendrils of smoke travel from the barrel of the blaster and up towards the sky.

The blaster bolt hits Niva right in between her collarbones, knocking the air out of her lungs. As her body falls limp onto the mud, the Mando’s does as well, and he’s actually dead this time.

Her vision blurs as her chest heaves for air, tendrils of smoke curl upwards out of her chest. A burning pain sears into the delicate skin and fragile bones, the smell of charred flesh and carbon find their way into her nostrils.

I’m dying… Aren’t I, Buir? She coughs, crimson droplets of blood flying past her lips. One more deep, shaky breath, and Niva’s vision fades completely.

Kal Skirata never expected to be sent to this camp. The Chaabar aren’t a clan to mess with, so there wasn’t a good reason for a distress call to find its way on the comm channels.

Running a hand over his close cropped hair before sliding his buy’ce on, Kal lets out a nervous breath. The hum of the ship’s engines was the only sound apart from the breathing of the 25 Mandos seated around Kal.

“You think they’re all right?” A Mando from his right asks, nudging his elbow gently.

Kal shrugs, “Doesn’t matter what I think. Cabur’s in danger and he has his kid out there…”

“Well… He’s Cabur Veen. He’ll be fine!” The Mando smiles from beneath his buy’ce, thrusting his fist in the air.

Oh, how wrong could he be? Within moments, the ship lands on the muddy terrain of the Chaabar campgrounds.

“Oh, wow… There was a massacre…” One Mando says.

“Aw, Nami… I knew her.” Another says.

Osik, this is terrible. How could another clan do this? Regardless of being enemies, these people had families… Kal weaves between corpses, scanning each of them with his HUD, just to double check they’re dead.

A small lifeform comes up on his scanner, making Kal’s heart rate spike up. It’s… It’s a little girl…

“Hey, I got a live one!” He yells to the others, rushing over to the little girl. A fresh, charred, smoking blaster hole is just between her collarbones. Kal touches his fingers to her carotid artery. It’s pumping, but just barely.

“Hey, ad’ika, can you hear me?” He asks, gently tapping her cheek as one of the medics comes running over. The girl’s eyelids flutter. She coughs, blood splattering all over Kal’s sand colored chest plate.

“Buir…” She whispers.

“No, I’m Kal. What’s your name, ad’ika?”

“N-Niva…”

Glossary & Pronunciation

Chaabar - fear [cha-BAR]

Ad’ika - little one, son, daughter, of any age [ah-DEE-kah]

Buir - dad/mom [BOO-ear] (no gender)

Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum - I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal [Nee soo-COO-yee, gar keer-AH-deesh, nee par-TIE-lee, gar dah-rah-SOOM]

Osik - shit [oh-sick]

Buy’ce - helmet [BOO-shay]

Taglist: @fionajames @sevdidntdie @will-is-silly @hellhound5925 @skellymom

Dividers by @saradika ❤️

[readingwiththestars]

₊˚⊹♡ PICKING DAISIES ON SUNDAYS

[i'll buy you flowers every day for the rest of my life if it makes you this happy"]

| ✮ 5 stars |

THOUGHTS ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . [possible spoilers ahead]

oh my god. i loved this book like yeah it was kinda cringey at points but ahsdghas idc at this point. im gonna die on this hill. the writing was simple but still very pretty and enjoyable. i was going back and forth from 4.5 to 5 but i ended up choosing 5 because i loved this book and im nearly positive i've found a new comfort book.

the cover (we judge covers in this household thank you very much) is so so so pretty i love it. and plus best friends to lovers and fake dating??? fuck yeah sign me up!!

the overall plot was really good, she's a fashion student and he's a TA (i also had ZERO clue what that was until i searched it up) and they had to fake date for his sisters wedding. tho it was kinda strange to me how like none of his family even batted an eyelid that she was there. there was no like hi i haven't seen you for like four years do you mind if i join ur wedding party? anyway what was so cute was how levi would pick dani up and drop her off everywhere and i mean everywhere. i seriously don't think im ever going to find love atp. and the flowers/flower shop ahhhh i love it.

AND THE POEMS. THE MOTHER-FUCKING-POEMS. im never getting over that.

i do feel like liana just picked all her fave tropes and stuffed them all into one book which did end up making some parts a little bit cringe. but i still loved it

CHARACTERS ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

daniella - ahhh dani was so cute throughout the book - i did want to just fucking shake her at some points because BABES HOW DENSE ARE YOU?? HE'S CLEARLY IN LOVE WITH YOU. WHO ARE YOU TRYING TO CONVINCE HERE? ME OR YOU? anyway aside from dani not being able to see how very clearly levi was in love with her. she was a decent character into fashion and worked at her aunt's flower shop which was such a vibe ashdgsaj.

levi - ugh new book boyfriend alert. my guy was just asjdhgasjd. he'd pick dani up from everywhere not wanting her to be alone at night. and the way he calls her daisy????? he was such a soft family guy. his sisters were the cutest little girls on the planet omg. i rlly dont remember too much abt him (1 because i was just fangirling over him so my brain was just: ahhhhhh (2 because its been like a week since i put the book down (i blame procrastination) anyway i love him end of story

jia and gabe [featuring josh] - omg omg omg i love them. give me their friendship rn. like seriously the whole stalking each other on dates is hilarious and when jia interrupted gabe's date?? poor old josh over here was just trying to get through a shift. in conclusion i love them and i need friends like this.

QUOTES ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .[spoilers]

"you intoxicate me, daisy. the scent of flowers lingers on you everywhere you go, and i always want to follow." - levi

"you're spring baby. you're more radiant than the flowers and the sun and no one can take that away from you." - levi

“i want to be noticed in a crowded room. i want to be the only person in a crowded room. i want to be wanted, truly wanted, and desired. i want to laugh and to sing and to dance with someone and not feel self-conscious over it because i love them and i’m confident that they love me. i want to be touched and kissed and held because i’ve forgotten what it feels like…and yet, i think i deserve it.” - dani

when's it my turn for love hmm?

[gege-wondering-around]

My top 10 movies!

I was tagged by wonderful @dontcallpanic to do this ask game and I wanna give it a little twist! I'll also share why I like each movie (I promise, I'll do it quickly or we could stay here for days🤣)

(Not in any extra specific order)

1. The Maze Runner Trilogy

boys running around with the best music I've ever heard? My fav dystopian setting? Both movies and books are amazing to me. and this below? Broke my heart as well (and i won't elaborate further on the why)

But let's be a bit more serious, the 'save your people or the world' argumentation and how Teresa and Thomas basically represent each side as they are egoistic in their own way simply because they wanna save " someone " (the world vs friends) and to do that, one of the sides they stand on has to fall. This argumentation really shows (to me) how much you can bond with someone and the length you'd go to keep them by yourside.

(I know this song is in Divergent and not the Maze Runner, but I don't care, it's coded for running.)

2. Dead poets society

broke my heart. "Oh captain, my captain!" Might be the reason I value connections more than i used to when i was younger. Everyone has something to teach you and everyone has something within that has to shine... never settle for boredom, be extraordinary!

3. Stand by me

again, broke my heart. The value of friendship? The last scene? "I never had any friends later on like the ones I had when I was twelve. Jesus, does anyone?" Seriously made me bowl my eyes out. I remembered the reason behind many friendships I had.

The whole reason why the protagonist wrote the script on his computer? Just bury me already...

4. The perks of being a wallflower

yet again, destroyed my heart, especially the book - that I have to finish - cause are you meaning to tell me this scene didn't put your heart in front of a mirror?

Even more so, this movie really shows how much it can hurt to be alive sometimes and how love is something people search for aimlessly, we just go around hoping to find it. But let me tell you, love is everywhere you have the bravey of heart to place it. You are full of love, which makes it findable anywhere you need it to be.

And let me give you a bit of the book. (To you who are a wallflower, you are special... never forget that🫂 - I was one too... so don't be scared, the world will bite you but you'll be able to heal anyway💕 "to charlie!")

5. Brokeback mountain

One of those films that leaves with something you didn't know you could feel before. Gave me a view of what love can be and now, made me realize how much you can love someone and live the struggle of being forced not to.

6. Planet of the apes

Just my love for another dystopian trope, which to me had the message of nature conquering back what's hers, the apes surrendering the humans. The survival of the fittest and the cruelty of the world. And Caesar's window as a symbol of freedom? And they he gets back nature????

7. Logan - the wolverine

In general, all the Wolverine movie could fit in this category, however this once, once again, broke my heart. Wolverine had always been my fav and his way of being just screamed resilience and redemption to me. And him having to pass down his legacy to a girl that he ended up seeing as his daughter? Knowing it was a curse to him more than anything? Telling her to be herself and be strong?

8. Can you keep a secret?

After all my cinematic traumas, let me give you a little love commedy that made me laugh despite the fact my humor is broke and I don’t understand humor or sarcasm.

It warms my heart, made me understand the silliness of love and also how much trust goes unsaid and how much that silence values. And how sometimes, running on a plane and meeting a stranger can flip your life around...

If you have time and don't know what to do, this is my advice for you.

(And to finish with something not too heavy)

9. Fast&Furious

I'm just a lover for good cars and family tropes and let me say, the last movies didn't have the car vibes of the first movies, but the franchise is family and these movies made me closer to my father. So they belong here.

10. Prisoners

The end just gave the fucking (sorry for the choice of word) creeps but the whole point of the movie (to me) being about a father fighting for his family and having a open ending... I'm a family type of bastard (not in a mean way) and I'd do anything for those I consider as such.

And Honorable mentions:

1. Jurassic Park

I just love dinosaurs.

2. Twilight's Parody

Just go and watch it.

So yeah, maybe it was longer than anything I've planned, anyway! Hope you enjoyed and maybe now have some movie to watch tonight! Have an amazing day💕🫂

And thank you again, @dontcallpanic, the ask game makes me see new sides of myself and give me the chance to share with people my thoughts! Wish you an amazing, wonderful day! 🩵🫂

Tags with no pressure: @jayjay55655 @heradion @oldefashioned @fuji09

If there are any grammar errors, im very sorry English is not my first language, and thank you for have come this far

[darkpoisonouslove]

1, 3, 4, 7, 8, 9, 10, 12, 14, 16, 22, 23 for the choose the violence asks 🔪

1. the character everyone gets wrong

Faragonda. People either think that she's secretly a villain or that she's a meek, old grandma. The villain part is really annoying because people act like Faragonda sending the Winx on life-threatening missions is a writing choice made in regards to showing her character when it's a writing choice made for the sake of plot. The writers don't care how Faragonda comes off if they can get their little plot with getting the Winx to save the day work. It's true about everything. How come she spies on the Winx but never does it when they actually need help and she could save them but at the cost of interfering with the plot? Her seemingly keeping the Agador box (4x01) is just the writers being lazy with coming up with a new design for something that will be on screen for 10 seconds. Honestly, name one of her "shady" actions that cannot be explained as a plot convenience. The other side of the spectrum is honestly just... Are you blind? She clearly has a lot more backbone than people realize, yet when that's noticed, it somehow makes her a villain. I am tired.

3. screenshot or description of the worst take you've seen on tumblr

Somebody implying that Daphne is at fault for getting killed by the Ancestral Witches because she chose to sacrifice herself for Bloom and she could have just let her baby sister get murdered if she'd wanted to save herself. What even???????? *flips table*

4. what was the last straw that made you finally block that annoying person?

I block over too many wrong opinions or just a few opinions that are Very Wrong TM. So it's usually that. I don't try to remember what exactly made me mad.

7. what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because how how the fandom acts about them?

Roxy, kind of. I don't hate her but every time I see someone whining about her not being part of the later seasons and bemoaning the fact that she was supposed to be the seventh Winx but then dissapeared, I start to hate her... until I distance myself from that part of fandom. I think Roxy has much potential in her quality of being a foil to Bloom, someone with a very similar backstory but completely different feelings on magic and being a fairy. However, the writers are so hellbent on making her Bloom 2.0 that they completely ignore the differences between the two that they themselves wrote in and the fandom just makes all of that worse when they try to shove Roxy everywhere and force her into the same mold that the Winx fit into. Roxy should have gotten to decide for herself and instead of going to Alfea should have stayed at home with her long-lost mother. Morgana was literally the queen of the Earth fairies. I bet she could have taught Roxy everything she'd learn at Alfea and more, considering that Earth seems to have a different branch of magic altogether that probably differs from the curriculum at Alfea. Plus, that way she could have spent some time with the mother that is a stranger to her and she could have found her own path instead of being forced into something she clearly didn't want just to be like the Winx and, more importantly, Bloom.

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

The idea that SotLK is a better movie than Magical Adventure. The way that Bloom makes headway in her search for her parents is so fucking random. We never learn how the Winx found Hagen, the English dub cut the part where Daphne explains why she now thinks that the Roc might have survived when, for 20 years, she believed it to have been destroyed, and the Book of Fate is the literal fucking worst plot device ever. It straight up tells them that Marion and Oritel are in Obsidian. Don't even get me started on the whole mess that happens once they get there or the search for the key to Obsidian. And the theme - if it can even be called that - is a joke.

Magical Adventure suffers from the fact that the scenes have to be in a certain sequence to make sense and keep the suspense but that sequence makes the story feel like two movies mashed into one. However, the two segments are not bad at all. Sure, there are things that don't work (ugh, that montage with the suitors - what were they thinking?!?!?!). But the movie tries to focus on Bloom's relationship with her birth parents, which the first movie completely skipped over. Bloom and Sky are actually somewhat likable. We see the Winx without magic which hasn't happened since when? Season 1? The Ancestral Witches are actually scary when they possess the Trix and the fights are interesting and creative. Plus, there is a coherent theme about how parents' actions affect their children (there was another nuance here that I can't remember now because it's been a while since I watched it).

Anyway, Magical Adventure supremacy.

9. worst part of canon

I already talked about all the bullshit in SotLK and besides I really hate what they did with Zenith. The source of most technological advancements and, of course, they made the whole society be logic-based and emotionless. I. Cannot. Stand. It! They should have made Zenith's technology come from a place of empathy, of wanting to improve life so much for everyone that they become too focused on their work and don't notice how they isolate themselves from everyone else, including each other. It would have been so much more interesting and they could have kept Tecna as a logic-driven person, who's not good with feelings because that's just who she is. She'd fit even better with Winx if she comes from a planet so dedicated to helping everyone else that they neglect themselves and their emotions.

10. worst part of fanon

Blorboifying Valtor. I'm sorry but if you think you want a real-life Valtor, you need to go outside and touch grass. Not to mention that Valtor stans in general seem to have a very distorted view of him. This man has the temper and anger management of a fucking toddler. The only reason why he manages to remain collected and calm a lot of the time is because pretty much no one can stand up to him and pose a threat to his plans and his ego. At the same time somehow people completely miss the fact that he's vain and self-centered and clinging so desperately to his charisma and skills because he knows that deep down he is nothing more than a monster that was created to be a tool for the Ancestral Witches and he hates that. He's practically in constant denial mode about how truly sad his existence is.

12. the unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them

Krystal! She's already at a disadvantage because she's introduced in season 5 AND is instantly shoved in the bullshit drama between Helia and Flora. I have seen people hate on her and call her a shady bitch when all she's done is be overexcited about seeing Helia and managing to defeat the Winx at volleyball and then realizing that maybe the situation came off wrong to Flora and trying to talk to her and tell her that Helia only loves her and he and Krystal are just friends. She's just an excitable teen and she's not at fault for Helia acting weird as fuck and introducing Flora to her as his "friend" as if they haven't been dating for 3 years. Smh. #JusticeForKrystal2kforever

14. that one thing you see in fics all the time

Giving alien features to the girls. Like, I get it but it's always surface level because in the end it's so much easier to work with humanoid characters that you don't have to invent a whole new biology for. It seems completely pointless and usually doesn't come into play a lot. It feels like it's added more for diversity points rather than because it's fun or interesting.

16. you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

Making Flora a drug dealer. The "Flora does recreational drugs" take honestly feels like people are desperately trying to make her interesting because they don't like her as she's portrayed on the show. And the idea of "Flora is okay with parts of nature that are dangerous and volatile" somehow always seems to lead to "give Flora a gun" when the two have nothing to do with each other. Flora wanting to protect all nature as it is is one of her defining traits. It feels like people are trying to erase her gentleness because they think that a mild-mannered character is worthless. Honestly, the show doesn't help. They make her empathy come down to "don't hurt it" even when the "it" in question is trying to kill her friends. They could have improved on that by letting Flora specialize in restraining spells that don't hurt the creature they're used on so that she can protect her friends and stick to her beliefs.

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

The Company of Light. Even the writers ignore it because a) they did not think it through when they added that backstory and created several plot holes, b) they never did anything with it (for the last time - where's the fucking spin-off?!?!?!?!) and c) they constantly make all of the Company members appear incompetent and weaker than they are for the sake of the plot and letting the Winx in the spotlight. Give these people screen time! They are interesting and important! *cries*

23. ship you've unwillingly come around to

I guess Blicy. I just didn't understand why Icy would want to date Bloom but I read a really good fic and I can see it now.

[jiliansky-blog]

The Nightmare and the Dreamer. Chapter 7. Search for truth

Pairing: Morpheus x FemaleReader

Rating: PG

Words: 2490

This night, you saw in the dream the tragic death of Eurydice at her wedding. And how Orpheus came to his father for help. You didn’t see Morpheus’ face this time, either. Only his back and hair. But you recognized Orpheus in the picture. Morpheus was calm and cold and said that Orpheus should live and shouldn’t try to return his wife from the dead.

Well, he was thinking logically. But his answer was a lack of comfort and empathy. Was he usually like this? He is cold, but you can’t say that he isn’t heartless. Or is he trying to charm you? Still, it seems too cruel to make him a nightmare.

You were thoughtful during the breakfast, and Morpheus noticed that.

“Is something the matter?” he asked.

"No," you smiled. “I’m sorry, I just had a dream. May I help you today, too?”

“No, I can do it myself today," he replied. “But thank you. You can walk everywhere in the palace. And I will join you later.”

“Really?” you asked. “Is everything alright?”

"Yes," he said. “I just need to take care of my world.”.

“I understand," you said, smiling.

And he left after breakfast. Such a cold shower makes you wonder if yesterday was a reality. Or is it just another dream?

You remember that you wanted to write something. Maybe you should write a story about your situation. You never had time for this before. Of course, you find all you need in your room. Morpheus always knows whatever you need. And you came to the garden to write. But when you started to write, you felt someone’s presence. You thought that it was Morpheus and smiled.

“I thought you would join me later," you said, looking at him.

But it wasn’t Morpheus. It was the woman from your dream and the portrait. Morpheus’ wife, Calliope. She was serious.

“Oh, hello," you said.

“Greetings, Y\N”, she replied. “I was surprised to feel the urge to write in the dream. What are you doing here, child?”

“I am trying to break the curse, I think," you replied. “Are you a Calliope? Muse of drama?”

“He captured you, isn’t he?” she frowned. “He didn’t change.”.

“I wanted to stay instead of my father," you said. “Do you know anything about the curse?”

“I know," he said. “But you can’t save him.”.

"Everything can be broken," you noticed.

“If only he wants to change," she replied. “But he doesn’t even believe that he can do it. He is so cold and closed. Nothing can touch him.”.

“I’m willing to try," you said. “I believe that deep down he has kindness in his heart.”.

“He couldn’t be kind even to his son," Calliope sighed.

“I think he just hides his emotions, so he won’t fall apart," you said.

She looked surprised at you. She doesn’t expect a random human girl to understand him, the god of dreams. Perhaps, Calliope thought she knew Morpheus better than you.

“You aren’t mad at him," she said. “And you aren’t sad.”.

“No, I’m not mad," you replied.

“But why?” she asked. “He captured you.”.

“I can sense his loneliness here," you said. "Besides, he can be gentle, kind, and thoughtful. But I think you know it.”.

“How?” she frowned.

“I’m sorry, I saw you in my dream," you said. “And the portrait.”.

“So you know what happened," she admitted.

“Not entirely," you replied. "Perhaps you can enlighten me on that matter. No one here wants to talk to me.”.

“I don’t think I should," she said. “But I wish you luck. To be free of him or to change him if you insist on it.”.

“I am sure that I can help him," you said. “At least a little bit. And thank you.”.

She disappeared. Well, she doesn’t help you. Perhaps, she was still mad at Morpheus. She thinks he is cold and can’t love. She may actually know him better. And you are a silly mortal who reads fairytales too much and thinks that can change an inhuman being that was turned into a nightmare for his coldness.

Instead of the book, you write a list of things you can do to break the curse. Every girl dreams of turning the monster into a prince. But what if Calliope was right? He is not just any human prince. He is the god of dreams. And what if he doesn’t want to change? But he can’t be happy with his state, right? He wants to change back. What was the first thing that you needed to do? The kiss. The kiss breaks the curse in every fairy tale.

But you don’t know each other well enough for this. Will the kiss work? It should be a kiss of true love. You feel only sympathy. That can’t be enough, right?

“What are you writing?” suddenly you heard Morpheus’ voice and quickly closed the notebook. And then I looked at him.

"Nothing," you replied. “Just some thoughts.”.

“There was someone," he said, coming closer. “Someone was visiting the dream without telling me.”.

“Yes, she didn’t stay for long," you replied.

“She?” he asked.

"Calliope," you said, trying to stay calm. He doesn’t know that you knew a little bit of their history. He frowned anyway.

“Calliope?” he asked. “What did she want? She didn’t come for so long."

“She felt my desire to write," you replied. “And she was surprised that it was someone in the Dreaming. And she wasn’t surprised that you cursed.”.

“Did she say something else?” he asked.

"No," you said. “Nothing else”.

“She didn’t believe that I could change or break the curse," he said.

"Perhaps," you said. “She is still holding the grudge.”.

“What do you know about that?” Morpheus asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Nothing," you replied. “No one tells me anything. So how can I know anything? She didn’t tell me anything, as well.”.

“Yes, you are right," he said. “Do you want to walk?”

“Yes, of course," you said, standing and following Morpheus. “Where are we going?”

“I can make something," he replied. “A little corner of spring”.

And he brought you to the beautiful meadow with butterflies and flowers. You smiled and thought that you were right. He can be gentle and kind, and he did not lose that.

“It’s wonderful," you smiled.

“I’m glad you like it," he nodded. “It’s Fiddles Green. The heart of the Dreaming. I worked all day to make it green again.".

“It’s a miracle”, you looked at him. “You have hope. I believe that you can find light inside of you, and you did it.”.

“I should ask you for this," Morpheus replied. “I couldn’t do this without you.”.

“I was glad to help," you blushed and sat under the tree.

“I hope you weren’t sad today," he said. “How long has Calliope was here?”

“Not long," you said. “I assumed she didn't want to meet you; that is why she disappeared so quickly before you came.".

“Maybe she is right," he said. “I am not able to change”.

“I am sure that’s not true," you replied. “Everyone can change. You just need more time for that. See, you didn’t know you could change that.”.

You showed him Fiddle's Green. It was covered with a snow a day ago, and now Morpheus has changed it. 

“Do you really believe in that?” he asked.

“Of course," you smiled. "Maybe you just need someone who will believe in you too. Then you will believe in yourself faster.”.

“You’re something else," he said, almost smiling.

“So they told me," you said.

“I was rude to you when you came into my room," he said. “I own you an apology. I just…”

He was lacking in words. And he was ashamed and wanted to apologize. That was progress.

“I was wrong too," you said. “I shouldn’t enter your room. I’m sorry”.

“Will you have dinner with me tomorrow?” he asked. “As an apology.”.

“With pleasure," you said.

“I don’t deserve your kindness," he sighed.

“You want to change," you said. “I can see that you want to make everything right. And I believe that you can do it.”.

“Thank you for your kind words," he smiled.

“I’m glad they can help it," you smiled too.

“I hope…" Morpheus started to speak again and then looked uncertain again.

“What?” you asked.

“Can I hope that we can be friends?” he asked, looking at me. “Maybe be one day?»

“I think that we can," you replied. “We’re almost friends already.”.

And he smiled again. It was weird, considering that he was still a nightmare. But you can see the beautiful man behind this eldritch horror.

We spent more time here before he took you to your room. And you felt even more sympathy for this man, who just wants to be loved and understood.

Morpheus

Friends. We were almost friends. She can forgive me. But why is that not to break the curse? It was unfair.

“Lucienne”, I came to the library in the night.

“Yes, my lord?” she asked. “Did something happen?”

“We are friends," I said. “With Y\N”.

“It made me feel happy," I admitted. “A little bit. A little light that fights the darkness”.

“I’m glad for you, my lord," she said cheerfully.

“Do you think it’s too soon to court her?" I asked.

"Perhaps you should begin with small steps, not scare her away," she replied. “First, you should behave as a friend. And only then will we begin to make romantic gestures.”.

“Yeah, I am sure she won’t be ready for this," Matthew said.

“Very well, I got your point," I frowned. “I will try to make it slowly.”.

"Perhaps walks or flowers warm her now," Lucienne said. “Gifts”.

“I understand," I nodded.

Perhaps, we can make it after all. Any other woman I courted always liked gifts. And attention. My sister called me a hopeless romantic. And all my feelings burned bright. I didn’t remember to court someone for a long time without passion.

“My lord, are you alright?” asked Lucienne.

“Yes, I just need to think," I said. “Good night, Lucienne”.

“Good night," she replied, and I went to my room.

Morpheus was really sweet and kind. Perhaps, he wants to charm you, so you can break the curse. But why? You already wanted to help him, but he rejected your help. He was mysterious.

You decided to spend the rest of the day in your room, so no one could approach you again and asked about Morpheus. But you were interrupted again by Matthew.

“Did Morpheus say something?” you asked.

“I noticed that you get along well," he replied. “He definitely doesn’t want to scare you away anyway. And Lucienne said it’s a good sign.”.

“I’m glad to hear this," you smiled. “He even recreated Fiddle’s Green.”.

“That’s already something!” he admitted.

“That’s true," you said.

“So, what do you think about him now?" said the raven.

“Did Morpheus send you?” you smirked.

“No, I want to know this for myself," he said. “You know, out of curiosity.”.

“He can be thoughtful and charming," you admitted.

“Can you love him, though?” he asked suddenly. "Probably in the future?”

“What?” you asked, surprised.

But, of course, a kiss of true love should break the curse. That is why he asked about that.

“I don’t know," you sighed. “I don’t know a lot of things about him.”.

“I shouldn’t ask you that," he said. “I just thought that you had fun together. And maybe he has a chance for happiness.”.

"Maybe," you said. “But he is gentle and kind. When he is not angry. What can you tell me about him? You know him longer than I did.”.

“Well, he has a temper," Matthew replied. “He also feels deeply. When he was sad, it was even worse weather outside.”.

“Oh?” you asked.

“Yes!” he said. “Lucienne said that he is always so calm because he doesn’t want to ruin the Dreaming with his emotions.”.

“It makes sense," you admitted.

“But it doesn’t mean that he feels nothing," he said.

“I can see that," you smiled.

“So will you give him the chance?” he asked.

“Of course," you smiled.

Later that evening, you were going to dinner with Morpheus. He said it would take place on the terrace of his room. And you were going there. You dressed up in a silver dress. You remembered his clothes in your dream. Maybe, he will like yours.

But his eyes went dark, when he saw you. You're scared that he will tell you to go away.

“Is something wrong?” you dared to ask.

“No, it’s just... brought memories," he replied.

“I can change it," you said.

“No, stay," he said. “There is no need for this.s.”.

“Alright, if you are insistent,", you said.

“I am." Morpheus nodded, and you took your seat.

“So romantic," you admitted.

“Do you like it?” he asked, looking at you attentively.

“Very much," you smiled, looking at all the delicious food and candles. “You make my life here almost like a fairy tale.”.

“I hope so," Morpheus said.

“Did you want to impress me?” you smiled.

“I want to be your friend," he said calmly.

“And that is why you made a romantic dinner?” you smiled.

"No," he frowned. “It’s an apology”.

“I know," you replied. “I am just teasing. But do you want to tell me about yourself?”

“What?” he frowned again?

"Something," you said. “I don’t ask what happened to you. But I want to know something about the person I live with.”.

“Very well," Morpheus said. “I love reading. Exploring different cultures through dreams. But I don’t have much time because of my work.”.

“And do you love creating things?” you asked.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“You created different landscapes here and there,", you said. “Not only dreams and nightmares. Do you like this?”

"Perhaps," he said. “I don’t have preferences. It’s just a thing I do.”.

“But you did it well," you noticed. “Even amazing”.

“It wasn’t enough," he sighed.

It wasn’t enough to be a nice person or father, as he meant. And then you understand that he wishes to be. He just doesn’t know how.

“You can’t change your past," you said. “But you can’t let it rule your life now.”.

“Only I can rule my life," he said, pouting his lips.

"Alright," you said. “Then don’t lose hope.”.

You sat there for some time and were talking about the Dreaming, dreams and nightmares. Until Morpheus admitted that you need some sleep.

“I’m fine," you said.

“You need to rest," he insisted.

And he took you to the room. You imagined how he carries you in his arms. And you blushed because of this picture.

“Are you feeling well?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m perfectly fine," you replied.

"Hmm..." he wasn’t convinced.

“Thank you for this evening." You smiled, and suddenly you felt brave. So you kissed his cheek. Now he was blushing.

“Good night," you said, and you hid in your room. He deserved that kiss.

@shadowqueen1318 @mypsychoticlove @justathirstyhoe​ @ladymoztaza @sapphireonline @deniixlovezelda

[sindri42]

What books or graphic novels do you most frequently recommend? What are your all time favorite books or series?

That's a complicated question, and my memory is shit so I'll probably come up with a dozen better answers the moment after I hit post, but off the top of my head...

Basically everything by Seanan McGuire/Mira Grant is gold. Most of it comes in long series which are a big investment and have their ups and downs, and which will have different value to different people and mindsets, and I haven't read all of them because she just writes too damn fast, but I haven't encountered a single book from her that wasn't great. If you're looking for a one-off, Middlegame might be the best; it's about a couple of artificial people created by an ancient conspiracy attempting to attain godhood, and math, and language, and time travel, and what family means, and doing the same thing over and over thirteen thousand times in search of a better result. I'm also especially fond of Alien: Echo, which starts out as a cute little YA gay romance set in a sci-fi colony world, until halfway through you catch the name 'Weyland-Yutani' and abruptly remember which franchise the title is referencing and realize how few of these plucky teens are likely to survive to the end of the week.

You should probably read everything by Naomi Novik. The Temeraire series, starting with His Majesty's Dragon, is an alternate history of the Napoleonic Wars (officers and gentlemen, wooden ships and iron men, all that jazz) except that aerial combat is much more prominent than in our timeline, which gradually expands out into building a whole different earth exploring how numerous cultures and regions were affected by humanity not necessarily being the dominant species. The Scholomance books, starting with A Deadly Education are kind of like your standard magical boarding school, except unlike certain more famous examples of the trope actually makes sense; also it's consistently hilarious whenever it's not being horrifying as the story follows a girl who is clearly born to be an evil empress and who is very definitely not dating this stereotypical dashing hero guy, no matter how many times they save each others' lives. As standalones go, she's done Uprooted and Spinning Silver, both of which put wonderful new spins on classic fairy tale tropes and popular myths but this paragraph is already too long for me to elaborate.

The Murderbot series by Martha Wells is not only great as a sci-fi action series and as a worldbuilding exercise, but also the most realistic depiction of an anxiety disorder I've ever read. It starts with a security droid that hacked its own governor module to get the ability to disobey orders, but then because change is terrifying it continues to go through the motions of its terrible job, but now streams thousands of hours of media in the background while standing guard between crises; unfortunately, when something starts trying to kill the scientific survey team it's currently contracted out to, it discovers to its horror that it's actually starting to care about what happens to them.

Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones is a classic for a reason. Maybe you've seen the Miyazaki film? Doesn't matter, read the book anyway. It's a completely different story. (somebody described it to me as 'the book is what Sophie remembers, the movie is how Howl describes it after the fact')

If you're looking for books on tumblr you've probably heard of Tamsyn Muir's The Locked Tomb series by now; no need for me to elaborate on what others have said better.

Ooh, pick up Roadside Picnic by Arkady and Boris Stugatsky; it might be the greatest Soviet sci-fi novel, and has had a huge cultural impact around the world. After you read it you'll realize that you've been seeing it everywhere, not just in a whole bunch of other sci fi literature but also from video games to anime to tabletops.

Moving into things that I personally love but don't necessarily recommend...

I want to tell everybody about The One Who Eats Monsters by Casey Matthews. It's a near-perfect blend of the adorable and the horrifying, and one of the best non-human perspectives I've encountered, following an elder god who could be mistaken at a glance for a teenage human girl as she simultaneously tries to figure out how to navigate "civilization" and fights a monstrous conspiracy to protect an (actual) ordinary teenage girl that she accidentally swore an unbreakable oath to defend because the moon was very full and she smelled very nice. It's great. but if you read it, then you would be in the same position that I am, waiting for the second book in the series, which was supposed to come out six years ago.

I love the Arcane Ascension series (Sufficiently Advanced Magic, On the Shoulders of Titans, The Torch that Ignites the Stars, and The Silence of Unworthy Gods) by Andrew Rowe; it's basically about an artificer attending a school for battle mages, using every trick and trap and gadget and clever scheme he can think of to keep up without having any direct combat magic of his own. The reason it's probably not for everybody is that as the story gets bigger and more elaborate, it starts interweaving with at least two other series of books by the same author (one of which initially looked like a completely different setting, and definitely operates on a completely different magic system), and none of the three are finished yet. Also the systems involved are intricate and there's a lot of little details going on, so you kiiiinda have to get obsessed in order to keep track of it all.

The Witcher books by Andrzej Sapkowski might be the best you'll ever find in the gritty "grimdark" fantasy category. The netflix series that everybody was obsessing over for a while before it shit itself too badly? Everything that they did right, is something that was better in the original books. Most of the best parts of the original books were removed entirely and replaced with complete garbage. The video games are a better adaptation, but still fall a bit short in writing quality and character depth. But it definitely leans into the Grimdark, possibly more heavily than you want to deal with.

The Valhalla trilogy by Ari Bach is good... conditionally. You can read just the first book like it's a standalone, and get a cool story subverting the classic Coming-Of-Age 'girl who never fit in is recruited by a secret society that tells her the thing that made her Different is exactly what they need to save the world' trope, except that the thing that makes her not fit in is her propensity towards brutal, remorseless violence. But you can't read the second book (which elaborates on why maybe maintaining world peace by deploying a secret society of ultraviolent killers with no oversight might not be a good idea) without committing to also reading the third, because the end of the second book will make you want to stop reading, and if you take the whole trilogy together then it's great but if you let the end of the second book be your last memory of it then that'll leave a bad taste in your mouth forever.

Jim Butcher's Codex Alera is six books, and five of them are absolutely magnificent. Unfortunately, the first volume is, in my humble opinion, dogshit. You can't skip it either, or you'll miss a bunch of vital setup and introductions. There's nothing you can do except push through a bunch of stuff ranging from simply dumb to downright offensive before you can get to the great part.

[arisuinsomniac]

This room has four walls

There is this trope in American media I see almost everywhere (or at least seemingly everywhere): the childhood room.

Childish in a way that evokes a time long past, and yet familiar down to the blemishes on the wall and scratch marks on the floor. It marks a step in the journey, but also the starting point. It is quaint in a way you can only describe when you're on your highs - comforting in the way you can only explain on your lows. Unchanging; eternal; a place to return but never... go to.

It's a queer feeling for me; you see, for as long as I remember, I never had that. My room was always mine, but never quite truly.

My first room is the one I can't remember. All I get are strands of memories of cloth curtains and someone I'd find myself calling mother - and lying about loving her.

My second room was the one I had all my childhood. It's still there, it's a bit smaller than I remember. There's none of the furniture it once had. I have many memories in that room, although I'm not particularly fond of any. It's where me and my friends played on emulators on my old Windows XP PC we had only because my mother and father both had a job to buy one.

My third room was the one I had most of my high school and early adult years. My parents had divorced, and following the death of my grandfather, I decided to come live with my grandmother. I changed that room a lot, I asked my stepfather to fashion a long PC table out of one of the sides of the wardrobe (some of the insides were rotting and I wanted a smaller bed, double beds make me feel lonely). I bought the bed and the blinds, and I hung all sorts of things on the wall. I sorted the books myself and had the pleasure in reorganizing them. It was the place I felt safe at home - away from the smells and the sounds.

My fourth room was my own, it was my house too, even if only rented. It was mine and yet it wasn't. It always felt too big, too cold, too everything that made it ever so slightly infuriating. And then it became too small when my friend came to live with me.

My fifth room is perfectly lukewarm. The perfect room to sleep in, a little corner of rot to sit down in. -- I hate that room. I hate the carpet and the mold, the clothes I can't bring myself to put inside the drawers, my estrogen I leave on my computer desk. I hate how hot and how cold it gets, and I most of all hate that it has four walls.

It's a queer feeling... I've been to so many rooms. Transient rooms, rooms I'd be for a day or a week, rooms that weren't mine, rooms that they told me are mine but really aren't. A promise of a room turned into an office. Another only reminds of how my family does not accept my identity. The third one is now my grandmother's.

I'm still searching - I don't know why. I hate the stagnation, the rot; I feel I'll never find the one room.

Yet I can't stand these four walls. I can't stand the safety they afford me, the temptation of never leaving - to become one with the mold. I hate how much I love these walls, inside these walls I don't need to get hurt, I don't need to think about who is lying and who's telling the truth - I can exist formless, just a transient fact in other people's lives, a page to be turned.

I bemoan having to leave these walls - when I leave these walls people call me by his name, they see only him, they can see all the scars, they can see the mask I put on and they can see my tail.

I wonder if I'll ever find the room, the room that doesn't have four walls. The room that will finally let me live rot-free, that'll want me to leave and be glad to return for rest.

So far, this room as well - this room has four walls.