#red the future teller

[bluebird-in-a-cagedrawing]

I was thinking about W. i. t. c. h lately and i wanted to draw my ocs as guardians...

My persona of course i as an element i choose:Quintessence... Also, it change my hair color and feather in guardian form...

Background version:

Simple version:

My ocs as W. i. t. c. h:

Layla: Fire

Megan the Water melon: Water

Air:Lonely child

Earth: Milky way

[non-un-topo]

Kind of obsessed with this nickname actually

[jacksoneblackburn]

THIS IS A JACKS LORE DUMP. VERY, VERY LONG OVERDUE, JACKS LORE DUMP.

This is a certified out-of-character post (also, small irl update)

Jacks was born in the 1700s, specifically 1789, October 31. Jacks is one of the time displaced kids at Camp Half-Blood, and is still getting used to how to use devices. They were kinda confused when Leo [Valdez] handed them a talking brick that made beeps and music.

After one day, after getting claimed by Apollo, they ended up becoming a medical assistant in their village. They were amazing at healing people. Some called them a "healer." Other said they were a witch that immediately needed to be executed by cutting off their head.

They (they being the village, not Jacks) ended up deciding to go down the witchery path when Jacks healed someone's arm, which was mauled by a Lycaon disguised as a regular wolf, and reattaching the dude's arm back onto his body without stitches. Not the smartest move, but then again, the person who got mauled was Jacks's first (secret) boyfriend.

(Quick b-t-dubs, Jacks is descended from Erebus and Hephaestus)

So, when they strapped them to a log, surrounded by spears and tinder, Jacks wasn't sure what to do. They could control small amounts of fire due to being a descendant of Hephaestus, shadow travel because of Erebus, and heal themself if they needed a way to fake dying (somehow).

They decided the safest option was hiding in the Underworld, shadow travelling down there. When they shadow travelled into the underworld, they were immediately met with good news, and bad news.

Good News? There was no longer a bloodthirsty mob after them with flaming torches.

Bad News? They were stuck in Erebus's pocket dimension in the underworld.

Now, I'm not sure if you have been stuck in utter, and complete darkness from 1802 to 2021 (~219 years), stuck at 13 and not being able to think properly, going insane due to isolation for what felt like eternity. But for Jacks? They mentally and physically stayed the same age for years.

They never grew up, they were alone and afraid, forgotten by everyone else until they were able to escape (somehow, idk, I'm working out the details on that as we speak).

When they managed to get out, Nyx and Erebus decided to have Mercy on Jacks, giving them a bracelet that transformed into a small, beaded bracelet, where if you snapped off a bead, the bracelet would transform into a Stygian Iron sickle, kinda like those farmer ones where you can hold it in one hand.

Not that it helped Jacks's situation, but at least they had a weapon to protect themself from everything around them.

Fast forward a few months, specifically a month (and a day) before their birthday, they make it to the rumored Camp Half-Blood. They've heard of it during school at some point through myths and rumors. Also, supposedly George Washington was a demigod, but they never taught that in their school (the teachers were so uncool for that tbh).

When they got there, a teen, around the same age as them, with vitiligo and pink hair. He introduced Jacks to Chiron, and showed Jacks around camp, then introduced himself as Tyler (if you followed my blog for a bit, you know where this is going ;] ).

Tyler was a cool, awesome son of Demeter, descended from Aphrodite (his grandma's side). Jacks was from Pennsylvania and Tyler was from Canada. The two weren't too different either. Jacks, inevitably, started developing feelings for Tyler. Though the feelings were small, and sometimes went away completely, Jacks really wanted to date Tyler.

Tyler ended up asking Jacks out two years after they met, and have been happily dating ever since.

Jacks was afraid of the dark, because of the shadow dimension in the underworld, so Tyler made Jacks a candle that would never go out or melt so Jacks would never be in the dark ever again.

Present day, Jacks spend their time with their friends Nico, Percy, Thalia, Jason, Hazel, Annabeth, Magnus, Toast n' Donut (yes, they're frogs, again, idc), Koi, Xea, Tyson, Ella, Mrs. O'Leary (dogs count, idc), Leo, Will, Hilal Khalil, Tyler, and his adoptive parents Davey M[atten]. Red and John H[arriet]. Red

If you read this far, holy crabs do you have a large attentions span. Either that or you're a nerd like me :) (or you're one of my mooties)

I love y'all (platonically), be safe, and I'll try to upload more often every other weekend. I have school stuff and I'll try to post around 6-7 A.M. EST. Also, thank you for tagging me in stuff on both of my accounts ( @ghostkingdiangelo) and this account. I'll catch up on all mah schtuff soon.

Thanks for reading again!

@bright-side-of-the-moon

[obsessedwithstarwars]

Jazz makes a deal with Desiree after finding her brother in their parent’s basement. And it’s not a pretty sight.

Her deal: Desiree gets a slightly longer leash (in a matter of speaking) as long as Danny and Jazz are safe. (Or something like that. Point is, she made a deal)

I wish this never happened and that Danny and I were safe somewhere else!

There’s a snap of fingers, a bright flash, then she’s outside in an unfamiliar city with sirens blaring and people wailing as a scarecrow runs by with some sort of gas, chased by someone dressed like Vlad adjacent except all black with a weird looking bat symbol on his chest.

Not normal, but also not the weirdest thing she’s seen.

But there’s no sign of Danny.

Desiree looks at Jazz and smiles bitterly, “I never said you’d be safe together.” And disappears.

Meanwhile, Danny wakes up screaming in an alley until he realizes he is not in pain and somehow has no wounds from their parents. His screams attract the attention of a man walking by, who comes to investigate, Danny decides to go invisible right in front of him which was dumb but he was injured just a couple seconds ago so cut him some slack. It really should have freaked the guy out, but he just has an astonished look on his face before also turning invisible.

Or: Jazz is sent to Gotham and Danny is sent to Coast City. Jazz becomes an unwilling part of scarecrow’s scheme (could be any villain) and is saved by a bat (any bat, although I prefer Red Hood or Robin) and Danny accidentally showed Martian Manhunter his powers.

Could work with Superman too in Metropolis. He could pick up a dumpster and throw it at Clark and Clark would calmly catch it while Danny is babbling/apologizing for getting scared and throwing something that could have killed the man, then slowly everything clicks and he disappears, leaving Clark Kent to investigate.

(Also background: Danny has just been told he will be the future Ghost King in this and Jazz was told by Clockwork that she would have a difficult decision and a difficult future in store but that it will be good for them and for the realms. Jazz doesn’t believe in fortune tellers, especially vague ones and says so to Clockwork’s face which cracks a smile. I’d personally write it as a Hardcover ship, but honestly if anyone wants to yoink this and do something else with it, I’d be okay with that too!)

[mukumukunomi]

Head Empty. Only You.

OPLA Luffy x Fem!Reader (can be read as gn!reader)

cw: tooth-rotting fluff, no smut, implied relationship, kissing (smooch smooch), no spoilers

wc: 1,110k

a/n: It's been a long time since I've written or been on tumblr. But the new OPLA has got me wanting to share again.

❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦

There’s a subtle crinkle in the corner of his mouth that indicates when he’s in deep thought. It makes itself known when he’s not smiling, which is as rare as it is concerning. 

He sits so still at the figurehead of the ship. A stark black silhouette sitting against a canvas of oranges and reds. It almost seems to set him ablaze in their glory, as if he’s the ember and the sky burns only when he’s under it. 

Monkey D. Luffy in a contemplative state is unpredictable. What does a man who fears little to nothing contemplate about? 

“Y/N?” He asks quietly, softly. He says it with a hint of cheekiness like your name holds a meaning only he’s privy to. You realize you’ve been staring at him long enough for the sun to completely dip beyond the horizon. 

You clamber up to where he sits, plopping down as he moves to make room. You stare into a watery void of dark waters. The ocean is completely opposite to its usual appearance. Deep blues and purples replace the turquoise and aquamarines of daylight. It's somehow eerie.

His knee bumps against yours, the subtle contact of skin enough to break the trance of silence you find yourself in. It brands your own skin with its warmth. 

“Are you okay?”

He ponders the question, picking at the fibers that stick out of the straw hat on his head. “I’m thinking.”

You roll your eyes, propping your head up with a hand against your knee. He says it like it isn’t obvious.  “Whatcha thinking about?”

He squints into the void. You almost think he’s looking for the answer out there beneath the waves. Searching for an answer in the one place he can’t physically look.

“You.”

Your heart stutters as you answer without thinking. “Why?”

You can’t fathom being the forethought of his thoughts. That someone like him spends hours in the quietness thinking about you. Your existence feels minuscule in comparison. 

He cocks his head to the side. “There have to be a reason? I just like thinkin’ ‘bout ya.”

He’s effortless, you think. For how grand the trajectory of his destiny seems to be, he’s effortless in being simple. Luffy is a man who’s complicatedly simple. 

You clear your throat and try to resist the flush that rises in your body. You hope he can’t see the blush that’s dusting your cheeks when his dark orbs finally meet yours. “What-what about me do you think about?”

A different kind of line creases his face as his gaze smolders. You’re familiar with this crinkle. It’s the dimple of his cheeks when he smirks. It jars you how much of a difference one dimple makes. He’s like starlight in the darkness.

Confidence is not something Luffy lacks. But when he’s especially sure about something, there’s nothing anyone can do to change his mind.

“Everything!” He says, grabbing your hand and squeezing it, “I like when we sneak into the kitchen at night. Oh! Or when we pranked Sanji by replacing the potatoes with tangerines! Or how about the time we convinced Usopp to paint Zoro’s face with ink and it wouldn’t wash off for days!”

He taps your entwined hands against his knee in excitement. You can’t help but be infected by his joy as he babbles on.

“And remember when Nami got so mad when we spent half her berry on that weird fortune teller? They turned out to be fake! But then you smiled and said…”

He trails off then, staring at you. You’re not sure where his mind is heading as the silence stretches longer than you anticipate. 

“...you said as long as we’re together it doesn’t matter what the future holds.”

Suddenly, you’re no longer sitting beside him. A tug on your hand invites you to settle for straddling his lap instead. You can’t help but melt into the hug he gives, returning it as your hands settle just at his shoulder blades. His hands around your waist and nose brushing against your neck sends a flutter of butterflies to your stomach. 

He inhales you like you’re the oxygen he breathes. “I’m always thinking about ya' when you’re not beside me.”

A torrent of emotion whirls inside. Luffy is always physical. He has a touch-starved obsession. He craves closeness with others and doesn’t discriminate in who that applies to. But here with just you two, you suddenly feel the full brunt of his affection. You don’t know what else to do but hold him tighter and bury your face in his shoulder.

“Hey, look at me.” He demands. He pulls away slightly to hold you a hair's breadth away, noses almost touching, as he searches your face. “Talk to me.”

He’s always so jealous of your attention. You squish the hollows of his cheeks together as you grasp his chin. Your eyes rove over his facial features and trace the contour of his brow. You follow it to the scar under his eye and down his jaw until you finally land on his lips. He looks like a blow fish, utterly ridiculous in your grasp, but there’s a glint in his dark orbs. It's as dangerous as the glint of a knife in the dark.

Unconsciously, you lick your lips. 

“You know what I think about?”

“Whaf-?” He tries to ask. The words don’t quite form in their current state puckered between your fingers. His eyebrows raise dramatically to emphasize his curiosity instead.

“How much I like kissing you…and when I’m going to kiss you again.” You smile deviously when that glint of his seems to sparkle. 

He giggles at you. It’s boyish compared to the look on his face. He pulls himself from your grasp. “How about now?”

You feign a look of surprise, looking around in mock confusion. “Now? Here? Are you sure now’s a good time? I thought you were too busy thinking about me alone in the dark.”

Your teasing earns you a pout. He whines as you give a hearty laugh.

“You’re such a big baby-” You begin, but Luffy surprises you by grasping your chin and slamming your lips together. 

His kiss is electrifying despite the fact his rubber constitution should make it impossible. It sends tingles up and down your spine and you hum as he traces the outline of your lips with his tongue. He sighs when you open your mouth. Your heart is open and tender in this moment, and he cradles you like you’re as important as the hat on his head. You are. He reminds you everyday.

Eventually, the cold spray of the ocean’s waves is forgotten.

[angellesword]

BAGGAGE | JJK (03)

Summary: Drowning in debt and blood, Jeon Jungkook knows he's better off alone, lest he brings people down with him.

But one drunken night changes everything.

In a blink of an eye, Jungkook found himself drowning not only in debt and blood, but also in dirty diapers and judgmental stares from you, a.k.a his long-lost love and the guardian of the son he didn't even know existed.

Genre and warnings: best friends to lovers, co-parenting, idiots in love, slow burn—really slow burn, mutual pining, angst, fluff, implied smut, kissing, minor character death, slight getting back together, drama, OC cusses excessively so watch out

Pairing: dad! Jungkook x adoptive mom!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

←Previous Chapter (02) | Next Chapter (04) →

****

Eight Years Ago; 2015

There was a small food cart on the outskirts of Incheon where two best friends frequent.

“Oi, shithead. You’ve been fucking staring at your food for twenty-two minutes already. What the fuck is wrong with you? ”

Jungkook whined, complaining about how creepy it was that his best friend knew how long he looked at his food and how you spit out three profanities in one sentence.

“Shut up.” your face turned red, embarrassed that your habit of knowing the exact time was showing. You developed this meticulousness back when you were writing your thesis paper. Time was precious. Thanks fuck you were done with it.

You graduated today. You and Jungkook were currently eating noodles to celebrate. Your best friend initially demanded that you cook his favorite crab spring roll, but your hands were tied. The graduation ceremony took forever to finish; your professors and friends even pulled you to celebrate after.

You were not a killjoy, but you didn’t want to end this day without seeing your best friend, so you quietly ditched the party and sought Jungkook’s company instead.

“You really came to see me. What a good girl you are.” Jungkook cooed when he saw you waiting at his doorstep. “ Here, your graduation gift.”

“HA!?” You were dumbfounded upon seeing his present. “You got me a choker?!”

“Of course! You are so busy these days. I got you a collar so you wouldn’t forget who you belong to.” Jungkook said in jest to conceal his selfishness. He wished you could spend more time with him, not just fleeting moments like eating spicy noodles in a small food cart, which he didn’t even like.

“Why the fuck did you order it if you don’t like spicy noodles!?” A vein popped into your head.

Jungkook groaned, “You know how much I hate upsetting a pretty lady.”

The ‘pretty lady’ Jungkook was referring to was an old lady called Louisa, the owner of the ADA--the food cart. This place was near your high school alma mater. You and Jungkook still went here despite graduating high school many years ago.

Jungkook usually ordered the shop’s best-seller crab spring rolls, which inspired you to make your version of said food. You remembered begging Louisa to teach you how to make it, but the lady couldn’t just give away her family’s recipe. She taught you the basics, and that was where you started until you got Jungkook’s approval.

Content with your version, Jungkook no longer ordered spring rolls whenever you two ate at ADA. He preferred their crab noodles, but only spicy foods were left now since you arrived late. Jungkook refused to change stalls because he adored Louisa.

“You’re really something.” You bought a can of milk for Jungkook to counter the spiciness of his noodles.

Jungkook pinched your cheeks in appreciation. He was happy that he managed to take a few bites and ignore the old man across the street who was singing out of tune.

Natsume was what the old man called himself. He had been doing his business across ADA for a long time. The only reason he wasn’t shooed away was that his performance wasn’t a song at all. He was making up random tunes while expressing what the ‘future’ of some people would be like.

In short, he was a fortune teller, and all his ‘predictions’ apparently came true.

Jungkook didn’t dare believe him. He got particularly annoyed at Natsume when he predicted his future and yours. He sang, “Fall out, fall out, you two will have a fallout. One so nasty it will break your hearts, with no hopes of returning ~.”

Jungkook still cringed every time he remembered that. He looked at you, ready to ridicule the fortune teller in front of you.

Who would have thought this was the start of the fortune teller’s prediction coming true? You shouldn’t have opened your mouth, but you did, saying, “Jungkook, what are your plans for the future?”

You were influenced by the main topic at the graduation party earlier. Everyone you knew was planning their future. You feared Jungkook wasn’t doing the same—that he wouldn’t belong.

“Haven’t I told you already? Jimin-hyung and I are committed to our business.”

Your jaw automatically ticked upon hearing Jimin’s name. You never really hated anyone, but Jimin might be the exception. Jimin was why Jungkook dropped out of university. He coaxed Jungkook into emptying his bank account for Bighit, their Business Process Outsourcing venture.

Now Jungkook was broke, only relying on his small interest in Port Mafia.

“How about school? Don’t you plan on going—”

“No.” Jungkook ruthlessly cut you off. The move didn’t deter you from speaking your mind, though.

“Why not? You only need to finish two semesters to graduate. It’s a pity you’re settling with just this.”

“Just what?” Jungkook raised his brow, irritation flaring up. He had a hunch of what you were implying.

Sure enough, you swallowed hard to cover your nervousness. “With this…I mean…dropouts are…” You struggled to find the right words to say.

Jungkook huffed, supplying the words for you. “…are what? Stupid? Lazy? Unambitious? Or a waste of time?”

“Oi, don’t put words into my mouth.” You hissed, getting pissed off too.

“But that’s what you wanted to say, right? You think lowly of me. You’re just like the rest of them.”

Jungkook heard all kinds of snide remarks when he dropped out of university. His adviser even called him a lost cause— that he would never be successful if he didn’t finish school.

  Bullshit.

Jungkook felt acid crawling up to his throat. “People like you think you’re above everyone just cause you have a degree, right? Arrogant.”

You lost your composure because of how hurtful he was being.

“So what if I’m arrogant!?” You dropped your chopsticks, no longer in the mood to eat. “I’ve earned a degree. I’m finished with my commitment, unlike you, who quit and only settled with faking smiles and licking the butt holes of people richer than you!”

“You--!” Jungkook clenched his fist. He always knew his best friend had a sharp mouth. You said things that made sense, but damn, they hurt. This wasn’t the first time you said something biting, but it was the first time you had hurt Jungkook’s feelings.

It was too late when you realized what you had said. Jungkook’s eyes were already red. You knew Jungkook hated fake pleasantries and wooing greedy businessmen, yet you used those things as a weapon to hurt him.

Truly a low blow.

“Screw you.” Jungkook spat before storming off.

Feeling defeated, you didn’t run after him, deciding to just go home alone and leave Jungkook to cool off.

But the following day, you found yourself standing in front of Jungkook’s apartment. The thing about you was you couldn’t bear fighting for real with your best friend. Bickering with him was fine, but you’d rather die than really hurt Jungkook.

You rang the doorbell. It was early in the morning. 4am. Every second that passed knowing you and Jungkook were not okay was like a stab in your heart.

Surely, Jungkook had calmed down. If he hadn’t, you would accept any kind of punishment. You just wanted to see him.

“Come on.” You pressed the doorbell once again. It never took Jungkook two rings to open the door for you, so you seriously considered breaking in.

But to your delight, the door swung open before you could do something stupid.

“What is it?” Stone cold voice hit you on the face.

A lot. You wanted to convey many things, such as apologizing and saying Jungkook had misunderstood your point. However, looking at your best friend’s still angry face left you no choice but to lower your eyes. Your heart felt like it was pricked by thousands of needles.

You knew you were in the wrong. You could only raise the paper bag you were holding.

“I made crab spring rolls. Do you want them?”

“What makes you think I want them?” Jungkook crossed his arms, which caused you to swallow hard.

You bit your lip too, looking at Jungkook despite your guilt. “You’re right, you might not want them anymore, but I can only bring this hoping you’d accept my apology and also...also to—”

You weren’t planning to bring this up while still outside Jungkook’s home, but you couldn’t bear to look at his angry face anymore.

You voiced out your trump card. Your last resort. “—to ask you if you’re willing to guide me on investing at Bighit?”

As expected, Jungkook was shocked. His lips parted wide. “Why? You don’t mind licking butt holes with me?”

“Oh, for Fuck’s sake!” You pushed the paper bag into Jungkook’s chest. “I was wrong, okay? I’m an arrogant devil. ”

You craned your neck, purposely showing off the choker adorning your neck.

Fire danced in Jungkook’s eyes. He lowered the paper bag to cover the bulge in his sweatpants.

Fucking hell, you’re so hot. Jungkook scolded himself, forced to contour his expression to neutral.

“Then what are you waiting for? Come in.”

Needless to say, you left Jungkook’s apartment feeling grateful that you had a choker to cover some obvious bite marks.

Present, 2023:

“Pwetty lady! Spring yoll! Bin-bin! Want!” A certain someone was banging the top of ADA’s table, almost as if he couldn’t wait for even one more second.

“Hey, kiddo. You already ate seven pieces.” You folded your arms across your chest, your brows furrowing at the small child sitting before you.

The said the child pouted his lips, his eyes losing their sparks.

Jungkook’s sparkling eyes were still vivid in your mind, probably because you had just finished reminiscing about what had happened five years ago. As a result, you couldn’t help but associate this kid with your former best friend.

You always thought that Jungkook’s eyes could replace the stars. It was your weakness. Those eyes made you want to dig your heart out and give it to Jungkook for free. The universe knew about this, so why must you suffer it the second time?

Why did Soobin, the kid in front of you, have to have the same sparkly eyes as Jungkook?

“Spring roll! Want!” They even had the same favorite food.

You scoffed. Like father like son, huh?

“A brat dares to make demands when he can’t pronounce the words right? Spring yoll, my ass.” You mocked the kid.

Soobin ignored you. He continued banging on the table.

“Spring yoll! Bin-bin! Want! Spring yoll!”

“Okay, fine. I’ll buy you more. Just you wait, young master.” You playfully rolled your eyes, giving in to the request of your adoptive son.

“Is it that good?” You took one piece of spring roll. It had been many years since you last tasted this. Back then, you’d rather have Jungkook eat them all.

“Good! Very good!” Soobin stuffed another piece inside his mouth, clearly enjoying it.

The kid was right. The crab spring roll was delicious. It tasted the same way it did five years ago. You unconsciously gripped your phone, fixing your gaze on the screen as if waiting for a New Year’s miracle.

But it never came.

Last night, you met up with Jungkook, hoping to talk to him. Unexpectedly, Jungkook was drunk.

Now that he was sober, you thought he would call.

What wishful thinking.

“But nothing’s changed.” You thought to yourself as you looked around the place. ADA was still open for business; its famous spring rolls were still loved by many. Even Natsume was still singing across the street. The only difference was that you couldn’t hear the old man singing.

ADA expanded its business. They now had alfresco dining. You chose to eat inside the restaurant, afraid Soobin would catch a cold.

Everything stayed the same except for people. Back then, you went to ADA with your best friend. Years later, you went to ADA with your former best friend’s kid.

You could only swallow the bitterness down your stomach.

“Full! Wanna go home! Sleep!” Soobin said after eating the last piece of spring roll.

You hummed, “We’ll go home in a while. Count one to one hundred first.”

Soobin threw dirty looks at you as if to say, “This young master doesn’t know how to count!” You laughed a little. Of course, he couldn’t count up to a hundred yet. He was still so young.

So young.

But someone had already missed a few years of Soobin’s life.

You looked at your phone again.

Still no call.

“Alright, Bin-bin. Let’s go home.”

At last, you and your son left the food shop. As you two walked out, the horrible singing voice of the fortune teller reached your ears.

His lyrics were as nasty as before. Soobin covered his ears in annoyance, asking you to walk faster as he didn’t want to hear Natsume sing:

ring, ring, ring

the phone rings

the boy saw black

and the girl saw red

ring, ring, ring

the phone rings

how cruel it is

to have you waiting

for someone who can’t

 even

breathe.

****

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A/N: comments motivate me to write. leave some if you can ~~ ❤️

[milswrites]

To the stars who listen

~Rhysand X Fem!Reader

Summary: Looking upon the stars for the first time since leaving the mountain, Rhysand makes a wish. Only to be surprised when his dreams are actually answered.

Warnings: Mentions of what happened to Rhys under the mountain. (otherwise the only way I could describe this is as fluffy angst?)

Fic for @starfallweek

Prompt: Character A is a fallen star. Character B finds them.

The world was full of dreamers.

Humans, Fae and Faeries alike. The power of the night sky knew no bounds. All were welcome to look up to the heavens and all were able to wish upon the astral beings to their hearts content.

The stars knew nothing of discrimination, shining for all should they only choose to look up.

They were infinite. Unyielding.

Having centuries of experience when it comes to lighting up the night sky.

A patient guide, a willing listener, a teller of stories.

To Rhysand, stars were just as important as the air he breathed.

Which is why he found himself here, on his first night of freedom after escaping the mountain, sat alone on his balcony at the House of Wind. His violet eyes, dulled after half a century of pain by Amarantha's hand, locked onto the sky above him.

Fifty years.

That was how long the High Lord had been deprived from watching the stars. Fifty long years without their comforting presence to whisper to. Unable to share his dreams, his prayers for the future. Hidden from the golden twinkle which told him they heard him, storing away his wishes, holding them safe until they came true.

So here he was, staring longingly at the night sky. Searching his mind for what he wanted to say. Wondering exactly how he would greet them again.

It was a beautiful night for it.

Not a single cloud hovered overhead. Allowing the stars to shimmer brightly in all their majesty. Rhysand couldn't recall a time where he had ever seen the stars gleam with this intensity.

Heart twinging with hope, he imagined their vivid illumination was for him. That it was their way of saying hello to an old friend they had missed. Their way of showing him they were listening.

So Rhysand spoke.

A soft breath from his lips as he whispered to the brightest star in the sky, the reflection of its almighty glory danced in his soulless eyes.

"I wish I felt like me again."

His own eyes watered at his confession, throat turning dry as his mind never failed to stop playing out the horrors of which he had endured under the mountain. Each blink of his eyes brought along the flashes of deep red hair and rouge painted claws.

Rhysand no longer considered himself a dreamer. Not as long as these nightmares plagued his thoughts.

He was a broken man.

A cracked mirror. Only he couldn't figure out how to piece himself back together again. How to move on from the trauma of his past which had settled in his bones.

So he repeated his wish, his words floating into the cool night air like a prayer. Desperate eyes searching the glowing stars, begging for an answer. Begging for some instruction as to how he could move on, how he could be Rhysand again.

But there was nothing.

The stars were silent.

There was no shimmer of acknowledgment. No sign that they had heard the broken call from the male. They stayed unchanging, staring back at him with no acknowledgement of his wish.

Disheartened, Rhysand cast his bitter eyes to the ground. Cursing himself for being so foolish as to believe that the stories his mother used to tell him held truth.

Perhaps that's all they ever were. Just stars. And Rhysand was just the fool who had hoped that they could be something more.

Sullen, he made to move inside. Disappointment welling in his system at the knowledge that sleep most likely won't come to him. That dark-eyed and exhausted tomorrow, he would have to pretend to his family that all was ok. That he was ok.

For one last time he cast his violet eyes back to the sky in despair. Taking turns to stare at each glistening orb. Forcing himself to look for something he no longer believed was there.

Then, just as he was about to give up and retire to his room, there was a flash from the corner of his eyes.

It was only small, the white light which had crept into his vision. But it was definitely there. A streak across the inky black sky. Breaking the darkness as it barreled over Velaris and towards the forest-cloaked mountain in the distance.

Rhysand was driven by pure instinct.

He leapt from the balcony. Large wings growing from his back until they began to powerfully beat against the gravity pulling him down, carrying him upwards towards the mountain. Towards the mysterious light which was still barreling through the sky, gaining momentum as it was moved downwards. Almost appearing as though if it was falling.

This stirred the male to act faster. To urge his wings to close the difference between himself and the light quicker. Beating them and beating them until a dull ache had settled in his muscles.

But he had to get there.

The white light disappeared between the trees, its intense aura had dimmed to a low glow. It's flickering energy enough for Rhysand to still follow the trail as he flew down to the ground in order to land. Curiously threading in-between the tree's as he made his way towards the source.

His eyes squinted as he neared the fallen light, heart pounding as he was able to make out the shape of a figure from inside the glowing orb.

The ethereal being walked towards him as the brightness dimmed, allowing Rhysand to drop the hand which he had lifted to shield his eyes. Though whilst the orb of light had faded, the skin of this otherworldly being still glowed strongly.

"Who are you?" He questioned weakly, unable to don the mask of an all-powerful High-Lord because he knew whoever this was, whatever they were, he would be no match for them.

"I think you already know the answer to that."

Their voice was soft, angelic, as though the words they were speaking came from the melody of a song. The gentle tone reverberated in the quiet forest, clinging to the air as it failed to fully disappear. Hovering closely by like an inextinguishable echo.

"No. . .no. It's impossible. You're not real" his head shook in disbelief, violet eyes wide in shock. There had to be another explanation to this. To who this strange being was.

"You called, Rhysand. So I came."

"But- but how? Am I dreaming?"

An amused smile crossed her face, soft pink lips lifting into a gracious curve, "Is that what you think this is? A dream?"

His brows furrowed as he considered the star's words.

"No" he concluded, heart sinking at his realization, "This is real. I haven't had a dream in fifty years."

"And why is that?" she questioned, her siren's song attempting to draw the words out from his lips, even though Rhysand had the unsettling feeling that she already knew the answer. That she probably already knew everything about him.

The thought of which churned his stomach in an unpleasant way. Had she been able to see everything that happened under the mountain, even though Rhysand couldn't see her? His rising anxiety over this prospect rendered him unable to speak.

"You've asked me who I am," she started attempting to soothe his rising worries by giving him something else to think about, "But who are you Rhysand? You want to feel like you again so badly? Who is that?"

"I. . . I don't know. I don't know who I am" he cried, searching eyes boring into the star's as if her silver orbs would hold the answer that he's looking for. But they remained untelling, instead they only willed him to continue speaking.

"What I do know. . . Is that I'm not the same man who entered that mountain."

Her unwavering smile remained, its presence pouring through Rhysand, relaxing him until it reached his very soul.

"And why do you have to be?" she asked, moving closer to the male so he could absorb some of her calming energy.

"Because it's what's expected of me?" he meant to say it as a statement, make the point that his court and his family were relying on his council now he had returned, yet his words came out more as a question, seeking truth from the empathetic features of the star.

"Expected of you? From your court? From your friends and family? Or is it just yourself telling you that."

She was right of course. Her piercing eyes already knowing the truth about the male before he did. Yet, where he usually would have found it annoying, there was something rejuvenating at the way she was able to understand him.

At the way she was able to peel apart the layers of his swirling thoughts, unstick the pages of the book who made him who he was. Mend the broken edges and the cracked spine. Her words acting as the hands which where smoothing the pages back to normal.

She turned her face to the sky, eyes casting beyond the overhanging canopy to meet the night sky. Silvery eyes lovingly looking upon her family.

"We never stopped waiting for you Rhysand. Fifty years we looked down to that mountain. Waiting for when the day would come that you returned from its depths."

His heart ached sweetly at the knowledge. A sad smile creeping onto his face at the awareness that the stars had longed for his return.

That whilst he had been trapped within the shadows of the mountain thinking of them, they had kept their eyes on his prison, waiting for him to return.

"You're not broken Rhys" she confided, "You're still the same man who went under the mountain, if not an even stronger one. You stared death in the face and you lived. You're here. Allow yourself to feel the pain. Give yourself the time to heal. There is light on the other side."

"But what if I can't find it?" Rhysand worried, "What if I get lost?"

"You never will. We will guide you Rhys, just as we always have."

She began to glow with more ferocity, Rhysand having to squint his eyes once more from the force of the light she emitted. Fear sparking inside his chest at the realization that she was leaving, that her time here was drawing to a close.

"No, you can't go! I need you!" he begged, doing his best to desperately stare into the light so she knew just how serious he was being.

"I'm always there Rhys. I'll watch over you every night, all you have to do is look up."

By this point the sheer brightness of her presence was too overwhelming, Rhysand having to turn around to avoid being blinded. His violet eyes turned to the ground where they locked onto the shadow of his figure. Onto him. Not the fractured male he had assumed crawled out from the mountain. But Rhysand, High Lord of the night court.

"We're always listening Rhysand, and every dream you send to us shall be answered. All you have to do is ask."

The light behind him vanished. Leaving the male standing in the dark solitude of the forest. But he wasn't alone. He knew that now as he turned his glistening eyes to the night sky.

Lips upturned in a peaceful smile.

"Thank you" He whispered gratefully to the stars.

And Rhysand could have sworn that the stars smiled back.

[verinarin]

✧･ﾟ:* ~ 𝙫𝙚𝙞𝙣 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙞����𝙜; 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬

fluff; she likes to touch, he likes to see her touch.

a/n : starting now every fic of mine that has his view on it means the fic is in his pov

She likes to touch.

She would let her fingers traverse through any surfaces she could find, whether it’s soft or cold she doesn’t mind. Her fingers seem to have a mind of its own.

I find it cute that she has this unquenchable curiosity, it’s oddly charming. Another thing I'd like to add is that she adores touching me. Well, I can’t really say what she finds so interesting about an old guy like me, my skin ain’t soft or anything.

It’s full of scars, it’s rough, coarse. Hell, my arm even glows, ain’t that creepy for a pretty girl ?

But she adores it like a kid holding her favorite toy, keeping it close and never letting it go. Once she sets her eyes on something, she’ll get it. Aghh perhaps that’s my fault for spoiling her too much, but how can I not ?

Maybe I’m a fool to let her boss around me, but then again I don’t mind it.

Not even a bit.

“Hey lady, can ya stop tickling my biceps ?” I sigh, looking at my arm that’s currently resting on her lap. It looks ridiculously big against her thighs. I couldn’t see her expression properly, I was too struck by her eyelashes, has it always been that long ?

My head leans forward right beside her face so I could see her better. From the bridge of her nose to her pouty lips painted by the pink rouge that I bought her yesterday, “Husshh I’m doing something important here !” she shushes me, the audacity of this brat.

I couldn’t help but chuckle as I let her finger trace my veins, is she counting my heartbeat or something ? I can’t tell. She starts from my wrist to the farthest part of my arm that’s not covered by the sleeve. I rolled my sleeves earlier since it was annoying but I didn’t know my arm would be a plaything for the girl.

“Care to tell me what is this important thing ?” I ask, now her hands grip my biceps, perhaps squeeze is a better word to describe it.

Is she massaging my arm ?

“You know how you could read the future based on your palm,” she explains as she lifts my biceps towards me, well she struggles at it.

I lift my biceps for her to entertain her explanation,“Yeah ?”

“I’m doing it but to your veins instead,” that’s a cute excuse.

“So miss fortune teller, what do my veins say to you ?” I laugh as I tilt her chin up to look at me, never noticing how pretty her lips are.

Ahhh I’m gettin distracted.

“It said that we should eat steak for dinner,” she smiles, that’s a smile men would go to war for.

Including me naturally.

“Is that so ?” I ask, not noticing that my lips curve into a smirk.

“Yes, if it’s not for dinner then there’s an unlucky event that’ll happen in the foreseeable future,” she continues, I mean she wouldn’t have to do make up this little stunt. Hell, any desire that comes out of that pretty mouth is like a mission to fulfill for me.

“Well, I can’t have that now can I ? steak it is then,” I let out a small chuckle, before leaning closer to her. I brushed her hair back to press a small kiss on her forehead, then her face turned as red as a strawberry.

Real cute.

[sixeyescurseuser]

Teens Satosugu who go to a random fortune teller vendor because Gojo wanted to try it out for fun.

The teller begins with taking Gojo’s hand and reading his fate.

“Ah, young child, you have been born with not just one, but several special gifts. You have very far to go, yet your powers are unparalleled. Many will look up to you, like a god among men.” She pauses. “Be wary, for man eventually takes and takes more than what is given, and that just might be your ruin.”

She continues her spiel -  which gets really dark - and Geto sits beside Gojo with a frown because this isn’t very encouraging, and he doesn’t like thinking about what could be Gojo’s end! 😠

On the other hand, Gojo is very intrigued.

Once the lady finishes Gojo's fortune, she turns her eyes to Geto, who puts his hands up like: “We’re not here for me-“

Except Gojo says to not be a wimp and grabs Geto’s hands with his own.

The fortune teller’s eyes idly take in the red string connecting the teens’ middle fingers...

Geto reluctantly lets Gojo put his hand on the table for the fortune teller to read.

Geto’s fortune is similarly eerie. 

“Ah, another boy born with a special gift…but you don’t think it’s particularly special, right?”

“What!? Suguru, how could you think that?” Gojo whispers. Geto shushes him so the fortune teller can continue, going on about what it means to be strong - what it means to be a protector - and how failure will lead to a drastic outcome.

Understandably, Geto feels a knot form in the pit of his stomach.

But the knot quickly loosens when he feels Gojo’s arm wrap around his shoulders. A mopof fluffy white hair tickles Geto’s cheek as Gojo cuts in, “Lady, you’re making our futures seem very dark.”

Geto focuses on melting into Gojo’s touch. 

The fortune teller admits that she only tells what she sees, and what she sees is two individuals with incredible potential and power, and who will admittedly face many challenges ahead.

“But, allow me to see both of your hands for a moment,” she requests. “I may have one more thing in store, if you wish.”

Gojo and Geto look at each other for a moment, then offer their hands - Geto’s right and Gojo’s left.

The fortune lady grasps both, making sure to discreetly brush against the loops of the string on their middle fingers. 

Her eyes slightly widen. 

The string - their bond - is strong, humming with spirited energy.

She regards the sight with awe, because-

This string can’t be more than a year old.

[saintmurd0ck]

kiss and don't tell

masterlist

pairing: elektra natchios x f!reader + matt murdock and frank castle

summary: when frank and matt tap elektra's phone to figure out what she's up to, the last person they'd expect her to call is you

warnings: phone sex, matt and frank arguing like husbands, f!masturbation, elektra making everyone in her vicinity whimper, m!masturbation, exhibitionism

a/n: credits to my lovely @chvoswxtch for inspiration with elektra's phone background and @mikeymurdock for confirming darling matthew's birthday! this is my first time writing for elektra so be kind pls & HAPPY FUCKIN PRIDE !!!

“Thought you said she was always on that thing,” Frank grumbles, tapping on a flat-screen monitor displaying the layout of a phone lockscreen. He stares intently at the red supernova background, scrunitising on the halo of stars ringed around the edges of the phone. 

“She is,” Matt murmurs, furrowing his brows until they almost disappear beneath his glasses.

Frank sighs, leaning back in his chair, interlacing his hands behind his head. “It’s been four hours, Red. Why don’t ‘ya get some shut-eye, and I’ll stay up.” It wasn’t a question.

“Can’t be,” Matt breathes, mussing his hair. “It’s happening”–he pauses, fingers flitting over his watch–”tonight.” 

Disconcertion settles over Frank’s face as he wonders if this really is the way he’s spending his Friday night. His mouth quirks to the side. “First I’m gonna ask you how you know that, and second I wanna know exactly what we’re doing.”

“I know her, Frank. I just… know.”

“The fuck kinda answer’s that?” Frank glares, incredulous. “What, so you can listen to people breathing five blocks away, anticipate a bullet’s exact trajectory and now you can predict the future?”

Matt loosens his tie, looking more offended at the implication of being a fortune teller than at any other of Frank’s digs tonight. ”Of course not! S’just that… all of a sudden, she’s back in my life again. I wanna know what she’s doing, why she’s here, and what she has planned. You don’t know her like I do, Frank. Elektra isn’t good news.”

Frank yawns. “So? Ask her.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Hmm.” 

A muscle feathers in Matt’s jaw, the tension more palpable than ever, especially with the time ticking idly by. He adjusts the earbuds connected to the laptop in front of him, straining for a single sound, or any hint of activity, but he picks up on nothing. 

They’ve got all her communications tapped, thanks to Micro and his–as Foggy so aptly put it–technological wizardry, but this inactivity is well beyond her arrhythmic patterns. Matt glides his fingertips over her activity logs; every record of data painstakingly collated by Micro throughout the last two weeks. If there’s one thing about Elektra, it’s that Matt could count on her being out on a Friday night. 

Matt’s aware of Frank’s narrowing eyes, in similar concentration on the monitor ahead. “You think she’s really gonna leave us hangin’?”

“No, no, it’s just– she’s smart, okay? She’s smart, but I don’t think she knows. She’d make it obvious otherwise.”

“I dunno Red,” Frank shrugs, “Baitin’ your ex like this? That’s ballsy. Even for you.”

Matt’s head whips to the side at the mention of that word, ears pricking at the sudden dilation of Frank’s pupils, and the acceleration of his heartbeat. He’s readying himself for a fight. “I’m not giving you the satisfaction of a response, Frank.”

Frank tsks. “Ah, but ‘ya just did.”

Click.

It’s the unmistakable noise of Elektra’s phone being unlocked.

2-1-1-0-8-7

Matt straightens up in his chair, pushing his earbuds further in. “Frank!” he hisses. “Screen!” 

“Ain’t that your birthday? October 21?” Frank smirks.

Reddening, Matt pushes the grating thought aside. He’d discuss her passcode later, when time wasn’t of the essence. “Keep an eye on that screen–”

“She’s calling someone,” Frank interjects. He squints at the display. “Who’s… ‘Darling’?”

“Darling?” Matt stumbles over his words as the dial tone rings a little too loudly in his ears. “I-I don’t know.” 

There’s a hint of amusement in Frank’s voice. “She ever call you that?” 

But Matt’s response comes out quick. Too quick. “No!”

Frank’s mouth curves into a smile. “S’what I thought.”

Matt goes to retort, but the purpose of this mission embeds itself in his mind. “We have full access to her calls, her internet history, all her devices…If she’s planning anything, it’s gonna be tonight.”

“Can’t believe I’m sayin’ this, but I trust ‘ya,” Frank nods. “We got her.”

“Alright. I’m taking these out.” Unceremoniously, Matt yanks the earbuds out of his ears, wincing as the dial tone plays over the loudspeakers wired to the entire setup. 

Frank cocks his ear towards the speaker in the corner, glancing at the call logs laid out on his lap. He counts softly to himself. “I’m seein’ this Darling a lot. At least twice a day.”

Before they can deliberate further, Elektra’s ambient voice fills the tiny space. “Hello, Darling.” She pauses, hinting a smile. “Ready for me?”

Frank arches an eyebrow. “The fuck?”

“What took you so long?”

Matt stands up so abruptly that his chair falls to the ground, dizzy with the clang of metal on concrete. “That’s–”

Out of all the people they’d unassumingly characterised as the mysterious Darling, they would never, not in a million years, expect to hear you. 

“Did you look at the package I had delivered to you?” Elektra purrs, honeyed in a way that prickles the hairs on the back of Matt’s neck. “I would’ve sent it myself, but duty calls.”

“Shit, Red,” Frank chuckles. “You’re in deep shit.”

“It’s beautiful,” you say, “and it fits perfectly. You know me so well, Ellie.”

“Ellie?!” Matt mouths. “What?”

“I knew it’d fit, Darling. Now be a good girl and spread those legs for me.”

In complete disregard of Matt choking on his own spit, Frank’s eyes fly open. “This part of your mission?”

“N-no. Definitely not. But–” Matt hesitates, swallowing dryly. “We need to keep listening. For all we know, our friend here could be a contact.”

“Fuckin’ perv.”

Feeling his temper rise, Matt takes a deep breath, willing his urge to fight dissipate. “S’there a way to turn the volume down?”

“Beats me,” Frank replies, nonchalant. “But small world, huh? Our friend–”Frank emphasises–“and your ex. A girl you’re into and a girl you used to be into.”

“I’m not into her.”

Frank snorts. “Yeah, you are.”

“Hmm,” Matt says, nodding, “so explain why your heart beats faster around her.”

There’s more than a hint of annoyance in Frank’s reply. “What?”

“I know you heard me correctly, Castle. You can’t hide shit from me.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Frank growls, kicking his chair away, sending the call logs scattering to the floor. 

“I’m so wet for you,” you gasp, unknowingly diffusing yet another fight, your breathy moans barely audible over the speakers. 

Frank stiffens, his fists unfurling from his sides. “Wait, wait, wait. Did I just–”

The tips of Matt’s ears go pink. 

“Mm,” Elektra muses. “I can still taste you, you know.”

“And how do I taste, Ellie?”

Elektra laughs, the sound crystalline. “Delicious.”

All of a sudden, it feels as if the labyrinthine, constricting nature of Micro’s lab seals off from the outside world, trapping both men and their paramours inside. 

“Please,” you whimper, every stuttered breath punctuating the words that come to mind. 

“Use your words, Darling. Please what?”

“Tell me how to touch myself.”

Frank shifts uncomfortably in his chair, wringing his hands as his eyes search for a distraction. “Feels like we’ve crossed a line, Red.”

“Since when have you ever cared about crossing lines?” Matt asks, scowling. “It’s pertinent. To…the mission.”

“Cut the shit. We’re not in Catholic school. You can just admit you’re horny.”

“Jesus, Frank! I’m not…”

“Of course,” Elektra hums, but the inflection in her voice indicates the kind of coyness that tells Matt she’s in complete control, physically present or not. 

Strained nostalgia sends him into overdrive, even more so as he contemplates just how she knows you. 

You, of all people, he knows, would be better off without someone like Elektra. 

Yet here you are. 

“Use one finger, Darling,” she continues, “and touch your clit for me. Up and down, just the way you like it.”

“Fuck,” you murmur, squirming as Elektra conducts your pleasure. “I want more.”

“Greedy, aren’t you? You’re lucky I feel generous tonight. Do you think you could handle two fingers?”

Matt exhales softly, licking his lips as he falters back to his seat. “Maybe you’re right.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Anything you ask for, Ellie. I can handle it.”

“Good girl. Let me hear how wet you are.”

Tipping his chin towards the ceiling, Matt reaches forward, fumbling for the cable connecting the speakers to their set up. “We’ll try again tomorr–”

“No,” Frank murmurs, holding his hand out reflexively.  He hesitates swatting Matt’s hand away from the wire, but he still follows through, however unconvincing the gesture seems to be. It’s true; his stance was different just moments ago, but he thinks about it carefully now. Maybe Matt’s right, and the outcome of the call will be more useful than not, but maybe, buried deep down amongst the feelings he harbours for you…

“Why?”

Saying nothing further, Frank turns his attention back to you, still conflicted about whether or not he should listen in.

Positioning the phone between your legs, you lean down to rub your clit, alternating between featherlight strokes and deep-pressure circles. As you begin to splinter with the thought of your impending orgasm, you dip two fingers into your pussy, hoping the mic picks up on the slickness pooling between your legs. 

Slowly, you stretch yourself out, picturing her there, watching you. Savouring you. “God, Ellie, it feels so–”

“Mm,” Elektra moans, pausing to praise you as she ruffles around her nightstand. “Can you guess what I’m doing?”

You slide a pillow under your hips, groaning as you rock against your fingers. “I’m picturing you and your legs spread, your red silk robe draped over the side of the bed, and you’re– fuck! Fuck, Ellie–”

“Cum for me, pretty girl.”

Crying out, you arch your back into your own touch, riding your hand until your body recovers just enough to go again. “I know you’re… you’re grabbing your favourite dildo, so you can fuck yourself while you fuck me.”

“Hm, has anyone told you how clever you are?” 

“You’re picturing it, aren’t you?” Matt asks, his face indiscernible. “The two of ‘em, together.”

Frank nods, pressing his lips together. “Yeah.”

“I guess we finally agree about something,” Matt says, chuckling.

“Yeah? And what’s that, exactly?”

“Do I really need to spell it out for you, Castle?”

Elektra huffs into the receiver, a faint buzzing emitting from her end of the call. “Put the phone down, Darling.”

“But–”

She continues, humoured and unfazed. “I can still hear you, don’t worry. I want you to use one finger on your clit, and hm… Three fingers in your pussy.” She poses her next words as a question. “Although, I know from the way you moaned my name that you added a third without asking?”

“Mm, Ellie–”

“I’ll let you off, just once.”

With every noise he picks up, Matt feels himself growing flustered. With all his tells laying out in the open–the flush in his cheeks, to his staggered breathing–he’s a dead giveaway. He pulls his tie over his head, unable to form a single coherent thought, the pretense of the mission long gone. Clearing his throat, Matt sits upright, draping his arm across his lap in an effort to conceal his growing erection. He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but one of Elektra’s moans punctuates his focus, catching him off guard. 

Warmth singes Matt’s spine as he notices Frank’s gaze sliding to his lap.

“Shit, Red,” Frank murmurs, shaking his head, “I’m just… gonna leave you be. Okay? Call out when you’re… done.” He stands up promptly, stalking to the bedrolls in the other room.

“Wait–” Matt calls out, wanting to communicate that being left alone to act on his impulses is the last thing he needs…

But Frank makes a good point. Especially when he’s off to do the same thing.

“You know I can hear you jerking off, right?!” Matt yells. 

Frank’s retort bounces off the walls. “Mind your own damn business, Red!” 

“Whatever,” Matt mutters. Grateful for the privacy, he takes a moment to unbuckle his belt, tuning out the clinking of the metal in favour of the conversation overhead.

“Will you do me a favour, Ellie?” you gasp, pumping your fingers in and out of you with increasing speed.

“That depends on what you want.”

Desperation limns your voice, but you’re past the point of caring. “I want to hear you fuck yourself. Let me hear you cum.”

There’s a shuffle of fabric on the other end of the phone as Elektra makes a small noise of approval. 

Matt doesn’t need to be told that she’s moved in favour of a better position. 

Cowgirl was always her favourite.

He groans, still fully clothed, bucking into his hand as he concentrates on Elektra’s rhythmic breathing and hisses of pleasure. He palms himself, knowing she’s riding her dildo the same way she’d ride him, knowing just from the way she sounds that she’s getting close.

But she’s not the object of his attention tonight.

Not when you’re right there, unbelievably tangible yet barely within his grasp.

He wants you, affirming the thought as he pushes his underwear down; just enough to wrap his fist around his cock. He doesn’t have time to take it slow, so this will have to do.

In the other room, the noises you make echo in Frank’s mind, playing and replaying until he’s forced to hold onto the concrete wall to maintain any semblance of sanity. He squeezes his eyes shut as he fucks his hand, picturing you all stretched out, taking him until he has no more left to give.  

As if they both hadn’t just spilled into their hands, unable to shake the relief that gave way into yearning, they remember that there is still the matter of the mission at hand.

“I… I think they’re finishing up,” Matt rasps, rolling his chair up to the laptop on the main desk. 

Frank replies with a curt nod, taking his place on Matt’s left. 

“Better?” Elektra exhales, satisfaction now evident in her tone. 

“Always.”

“Same time tomorrow, Darling?” she asks, cheerful. 

“Why don’t I come over to yours, Ellie? We can leave the curtains open again, give New York a little show.”

Elektra clicks her tongue. “Ah, like the one we put on tonight?” 

Frank shoots a sideways glance at Matt. 

She continues, more resolute than before. “I think an in-person show might be better. Don’t you think so, boys?” 

“No goddamn way,” he mouths.

Elektra pouts. “You both came awfully fast, didn’t you?”

Frank was right; they’d listened far too long. To something far too personal. 

Matt swears, searching for a way to end the call. 

“You really think I wouldn’t find out? Amateurs.”

Frank sighs as the dial tone rings in their ears, clapping Matt on the back. “Well, I think our cover’s blown.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“Nice knowin’ you, Red. Nice knowin’ you.”

tags {x} for everyone who interacted with the original post/people who might like this 💗 @v4leoftears @devils-dares @chvoswxtch @itwasthereaminuteago @castlesnchurches @reborn-rekall @qu1etwolf @marvelswh0re @munsonownsmyass @murdock-and-the-sea @fxlsealarm @hailey-murdock

[lamoobsessions]

Fortune for the Fools

Hazel Callahan x FemReader

Synopsis: After an underwhelming proverb from an underwhelming fortune teller at the county fair, you have an unexpected run-in with Hazel. When time passes and feelings prosper, you finally begin to believe that maybe that fortune was right after all.

A/N: Enjoy this prologue to a fic i'm working on, while I slowly hoist myself out of this writing slump. Each chapter will have a lyric from a song by a queer artist, so I hope you enjoy :)

Prologue: "My heart's out. My guard's down." - Body and Mind, Girl in Red

────────────

To you, everything about the ‘End of Summer Carnival’ was enchanting. The pop-up canopies glowing in the night like lamps. The game booths sounding obnoxious buzzers as the kids played them for cheap toys. The tall, flashing lights welcoming onlookers to their sketchy rides, which, to your dislike, capriciously shook as they sat in the dirt -They weren’t safe, anyone with half of a mind knew that, but anyone with a sliver of fun would ride them anyway. Even the smell of the event was kind of charming. Sure, there’s the frequent whiffs of vomit and B.O., but usually those smells drown in the overwhelming scent of funnel cake and sugar. All in all, there was a lot to love about the carnival. 

Like every year, you attend with Sylvie, whom you’ve known since… forever you think. You and her clicked. Maybe it was your reserved demeanor and her gregarious attitude that made things so easy. Many people found it shocking when they found out how close the two of you are, simply because you’re polar opposites. Either way, the two of you made quite the pair. 

However, at the moment you stand alone among the carnival’s rapture.

All is well though, you have a routine for this sort of thing. You start out with the games, then the rides, then get food, and finish the night off with a ride on the Ferris wheel. It’s a perfect system you discovered a couple of years ago, and it hasn’t failed you yet. The only downfall of this plan is that Sylvie isn’t big on the carnival games, so you’re often left on your own for the first half. Which, you don’t mind, it’s less competition for the prizes anyway. 

That’s how you’ve found yourself here, standing in front of an old vintage fortune-teller named ‘ZOLTAR.’

To your understanding, this is the first year the local carnival has had a fortune teller machine. The thing doesn’t even ask for one of your tickets, it only asks for a dollar. So, thinking it must be fate, you decide to try out your luck.

Inserting the money into the slot, a suspiciously long moment passes, a moment long enough for you to begin to think the thing must be broken, and you dollar just went to a waste. Yet, just as you were about to shake some life into the machine, a whimsical harp plays from the speaker, “Cheer up my friend, and listen to the proverb from Zoltar.”

The sudden, and unreasonably loud, audio makes you flinch.

“From small beginnings come great things.” The machine suggests. “Ah yes, and lucky for you the great Zoltar sees much happiness for you in the future. Go out and find it, but don’t run off too quickly, Zoltar has more to say for you.” 

A shuttering emanates from the ticket dispenser, as it pushes out a small yellow ticket. Pulling it from the slot you read the back of the card. 

It's all the same mumbo jumbo you'd expect from a fortune. 'Things are going to change soon… blah, blah, blah… Be brave in your choices… yadda, yadda, yadda.'

You huff a laugh looking down at the card. “great…” you mutter.

It’s truly is the same fortune-teller crap most people get, but you can’t help but to hope it’s true. What’s the harm in hoping, right?

However, after a few carnival games, this hope started to feel like bullshit. Firstly, your favorite game that’s here every year is gone, then you lose half your tickets gambling them away on some guessing game, then, at the time your supposed to meet Sylvie by the Ferris wheel, she’s a no show.  

‘Great happiness in your future, my ass’ you thought. 

At least you had enough cash left in your pocket to buy back the tickets you lost. But first, there was a fried Oreo stand practically calling your name with it's infectiously sweet aroma. 

Deciding to ditch Sylvie's meeting spot, you make your way to the concession stand and join the endless line.

Minutes pass and you’re finally close to the front, with the delicious smells of chocolate and sugar getting stronger and stronger with each step. Although, another minute passes, then another, then another, and the line has yet to move. Peering to the front, you see a girl fumbling in her wallet, a look of panic evident of her face. 

Even from a short distance, you’re sure you know who it is. Though, curious to see what’s going on, you listen in closer. 

“Ma’am you can’t pay with tickets, we only accept cash.” The woman behind the counter argues. 

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry. It’s just that I promised some friends-”

“If you don’t have any cash, I’m going to have to ask you to leave the line.”

Looking into your wallet for extra cash, you notice you only have cash for your own fried Oreo and some more tickets. If you were to buy more from the concession stand, you'd have to give up on the possibility of buying extra tickets later.

But, being that it's the last night of the summer and your 'lucky fortune' can't seem to come true, you at least have the chance to bring happiness to someone else's future.

“Excuse me!” 

Both the woman behind the counter and Hazel turn to you. 

“I have extra cash if you…” you suggest. 

“Oh no, it’s…” Hazel dismisses, “You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s no problem, really. What were you going to get?” You ask, taking the money from your wallet, while making your way to the counter. 

Hazel stares at you, dumbfounded, seemingly unsure if she should accept the offer.

“She was getting two churros and a stick of cotton candy.” The cashier speaks up.

You nod and count the cash before handing it to her. “Can you add a fried Oreo to that order?”

The woman bobs her head while counting the cash and shoves it into the register. “We’ll have that right out for you.”

“Thanks,” You smile and make your way to the pick-up bar for the food. Hazel follows you hesitantly, presumably taken back by the interaction. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” she comments.

“Yeah, but I wanted to.”

As embarrassing as it may be to admit, there was always this fondness with her, an insatiable desire to be her friend. But, making friends wasn’t always your strong suit. You mostly kept to yourself, sat in the back of the class with your nose in a book. Sylvie’s told you countless times how unapproachable you look, but you never got around to fixing that detail. 

Hazel wears a confused expression, as if she couldn't quite piece together something in her head. 

“I’m y/n, by the way.” You begin, figuring she's probably trying to pin a name to your face. “Hazel, right?”

“Um- yeah. You know my name?”

“Yeah I mean, we’ve been going to the same school since like freshman year. Of course I know who you are.”

Truthfully, it wasn’t normal to know random people’s names in your school. It’s a big school, filled with a lot of people. Many students graduate not knowing half of their class. But, you knew Hazel’s name because, like anyone you find interesting, you learned it.

“Oh yeah, right.” She laughs awkwardly. “I knew your name too, by the way.”

You smile, letting out an amused huff at her insistence before looking to the Ferris wheel, where Sylvie has yet to show up. You'd be worried if it weren't Sylvie being her usual self. She either got caught in some atrociously long line, or is currently talking some poor souls head off somewhere. 

“I-um,” Hazel begins. “I don’t think I ever thanked you for the food, so… thanks.”

“Yeah, of course. Don't mention it." You chirp. 

“No really, I owe you one. Usually they accept tickets at these things, but I guess they don’t do that anymore.”

“Yeah, they stopped doing that last year after some kid, like, figured out how to forge the concession tickets or something.”

Suddenly, her expression turns into one of clarity. “I was wondering why they didn’t offer concession tickets this year.” She pauses, then lowering her voice to a near whisper. “How did they find out about the fakes though?”

“Wait- was that you?” 

Suddenly, she lights up, as if she'd been waiting her whole life for someone to ask. “Yeah, I just bought some customizable raffle tickets online and printed all the same stuff on them. It was pretty easy, considering most tickets, like the one for the rides, have special codes on them so they can’t be replicated, but not the concession ones. There wasn’t anything fancy like that on them.” 

After seconds of staring in complete bafflement, you can’t help but to laugh. She was the last person you’d expect to pull such thing off, but maybe that’s because you didn’t know her as much as you wish you did.  “That’s honestly genius. I mean,  it’s a shame you got caught.”

“I don’t even know how they found out! I was super inconspicuous about it.”

At this, you only laugh harder. It wasn’t even that funny of a situation but for some reason, maybe because it was her, you felt lighter. 

“Two churros, a cotton candy, and a fried Oreo!” The woman calls from the counter. 

The two of you turn your attention towards the tray of food under the pick-up window. Hazel grabs her share of food, though not before handing you your portion. 

“Well,” you begin, while unwrapping the treat in your hands. “Maybe next time you can learn to forge actual money.”

“That would be so cool,” She beams, evidently not catching your sarcasm. 

“Cool, but also a federal crime.”

“It’s only a crime if you get caught.”

“Thats a terrible philosophy.” you remark. Glancing at the ferris wheel, Sylvie had finally showed. She waited patiently under beaming lights. “Oh, I gotta go. I’ll see you at school, I guess?”

Something flashes in hazel’s demeanor, something you couldn't quite identify before it was gone and replaced by a smile “Yeah -uh, I’ll see you then.” She waves. “Thanks again.”

“no problem,” you wave off, before taking off towards Sylvie, who quickly spots you walking over, and begins to wave frantically, as if you couldn’t already see her under the blinding light. 

“Y/n!” She calls, “You’ll never guess what I saw!” 

You smile, rolling your eyes playfully. “It better be the reason you were a whole thirty minutes late to meeting me.”

“Uh-huh,” She answers quickly. “I saw someone get hit by a car.”

A pit of shock and concern fills you. “Oh my god are they okay? Are- Are you okay? How the hell did-”

“No it’s fine, it was just Jeff.”

Immediately that pit of shock dissolves, and your mind begins to wonder how the whole town hasn’t already erupted into a riot simply because it was Jeff.  “Okay, so…is he okay?”

“Well, you know, of course he’s taking it way too far and acting like the car hit him at ninety miles per hour, when in reality it was probably one, but yeah, he’s fine.” 

That part was believable. For football players who are the size of grown men, they were about as fragile as a china doll. But, the fact that you hadn’t heard about it the moment it happened… that part was a little hard to grasp. “So, you’re telling me, the Jeff -Jeff the star player of the Rockbridge football team, got hit by a car and the town hasn’t turned to pitchforks and torches yet?”

“Yes!” She exclaims excitingly. “I mean, the whole team is devastated, but the people are handling it pretty good if you ask me.”

You huff, taking a bite into your food. “Well, I guess that’s a good enough excuse for you being late.”

“I’m sorry,” She exaggerates, dragging out the apology. “To make it up to you, I’ll let you choose the first ride we go on together.”

“Oh, how generous,” You tease. “But I blew all my tickets on the carnie games.”

“You serious? Why don’t you just buy more?”

“All the cash I brought was spent on food.”

She gives you a curious look, likely surprised that you, for once, came to something unprepared. For some reason you have yet to uncover, a part of you didn’t feel like telling Sylvie about the run-in with Hazel. 

“Well, lucky for you, I stole some of my stepdad’s money for tonight. So we can just buy more.”

you laugh, “I don’t think I feel comfortable using stolen step-dad money."

“Then don’t think of it like that. Think of it like I’m your super rich sugar momma, and I’m treating you to a night out.” She shoves a wad of tickets into your hands forcefully. 

“Right,” you deadpan, accepting the tickets. ”Step-dad’s money it is.”

“Great,” She cheers, playfully putting an arm around your shoulder.  

The rest of the night was spent using all of Sylvie's remaining tickets for eating overtly sweet foods, riding unnecessarily fast rides, and throwing up in grotesque smelling trash cans. Or in other words, the night was spent perfectly. You and Sylvie stuck around til closing and ended the night sleeping over at your place, which is always the go-to spot for the both of you since Sylvie absolutely despises her stepdad. Come to think of it, you’ve probably only been to her house once, way back when her parents were still together. These days, it’s your house and your house only. You never minded the company.

But, as the early morning came and the first day of school had arrived, you began to regret this decision.

Body aching, stomach wrenching, and head sagging like a block of cement, all the decisions of last night finally caught up to you. You felt like shit, and you weren’t the only one. Next to you, Sylvie groaned, dragging her hands down her face as she sat up from the air mattress on the floor. 

“I think I’m dying,” She complains.

You hum in agreement, pulling yourself from under the covers and throwing your legs off the bedside. “Do we have to go? It’s our last year, it doesn't really matter if we skip anymore, right?"

“I mean… I’d be down to skip if you are. We can rot in bed and watch movies all day and pretend it’s still summer and that school never started.” 

Staring at her with a stoic expression, you hop off the bed and begin to make your way towards the closet. “You’re supposed to convince me to go, not enable me.”

She shrugs, putting her hands up in surrender. “I never said I was a good influence. You decided that on your own.”

You huff, pulling off random pieces of clothing from the drawers and off the hook. “Yeah, well,” You sigh, throwing the clothes on the bed. “I’m going to need all the influence I can get to leave this house before eight. And by influence, I mean caffeine and ibuprofen.”

“Oh!” She exclaims shooting up from the bed. “I’ll get the ibuprofen.”

“Please don’t grab the wrong thing like you did last time.”

A wide grin plasters on her face. “You mean the laxative incident? That was hilarious.”

“No, no it wasn’t.” The last time Sylvie was in charge of grabbing ibuprofen was the night of the Junior and Senior prom. You developed a monster headache from all the cologne clouding the gymnasium air, and when Sylvie somehow came back with laxatives instead of a pain reliever, you were too absorbed in the pain to notice any difference. “I had to leave prom early because all the fucking bathrooms were full with orgies and stoners.” 

“Yeah, that was awesome,” She giggles. 

“Just please grab the right stuff this time.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I can handle it.” And with that, she walks out the room and towards the kitchen where the pharmaceuticals are stored. This time, hopefully, she will come back with the right medicine. You dind't want this sudden luck of yours to continue any longer.  

[bluebird-in-a-cagedrawing]

Happy that Luna the moon demon finally has a full outfit, i'm proud of this one

Version 1 and 2:

Red the fortune teller :

(funeral outfit for female)

Hester the photo marksmen:

(funeral outfit for male)

All my ocs will have this outfits on part 25 of the comic at the end, yes , this is a little spoiler; i'm very proud of it.

My SCP persona:

[bitter-bats-cult-of-the-moon]

Demon or Deity? Deciphering Spirits

How to Confirm That You’re Talking to a God or Goddess

You can thank St. Augustine of Hippo for this. In the early 5th century, he wrote a theological essay against Paganism titled, “On the Divination of Demons.”

St. Augustine’s mother was Christian, and his father was Pagan. He understood both sides. He wrote many philosophical arguments for Christianity, his largest being The City of God.

In "On the Divination of Demons," Augustine fought back against an Oracle predicting the invasion of Serapis's temple. He argued that demons spoke to this Oracle. He argued that All Pagan Gods are Demons in disguise. He ridiculed fortune tellers and future predictions comparing them to the circus.

Do the arguments hold some sort of validity?

While Spirits can impersonate Deities this guy can now be pushed away from the conversation.

I’ll ask that question again.

Can Spirits Impersonate Deities?

The short answer is Yes.

The long answer depends on your experience level and knowledge.

If you are not used to the deity’s signs and how they communicate or you do not know which red flags to look out for, you are prone to deceit.

Red Flags

Messages drastically change.

For example, recently you received a sign from the Goddess Hekate. She wants to work with you.

The next week, another message tells you that She does not like you. Deities rarely change their mind without good reason. Double-check the divination.

People do everything for you.  

Deities do not need to go through others to speak to you. Even if you cannot hear Them directly, deities can contact you in different ways. If someone else does a reading that sounds completely different, question it. Especially if it’s random and not requested. Do not use other people to translate things for you all the time. Spiritual journeys are personal. They are meant for you, and a lot of people get hurt this way. Other individuals love taking advantage of people using them for their own motives. Just be careful out there.

Overly negative or apocalyptic.

I've heard an unfortunate amount of people claim that the world was going to end after contacting their spirits. Why would they let go of any worshippers telling them that? Why would they give someone a sense that they are the chosen one? Question that. No one is special. We are all here for the human experience. Try dealing with that first even if you don’t want to.

The entity is trying to force you into things.

You do not need to answer spirits. A deity could ask you to worship Them. You can also say no. With years of experience, I have never heard of a deity punishing someone for not working with Them. If a message sounds like a threat, then question everything, and it’s probably best to ignore it.

How to Guarantee That You’re Speaking to a Deity

Ask the same question several times.

Use your preferred divination technique writing down all the answers to your questions. After one day has passed, repeat the same method rephrasing the questions asking the spirit again. Sometimes there are inconsistencies. Question what feels right and what does not.

Thoughts belong to whom?

Are the thoughts yours or are the thoughts external from you? Sometimes strong emotions are mistaken for spiritual signs. It’s easy to get caught up in your own head and let it take over hijacking the metaphysical exercise. Always question this. Did you anticipate a specific answer? This can also lead to derailment. It doesn’t hurt to ask again to gain confirmation. Before contacting your deity, stabilize your emotional state.

Gathering valuable resources.

Contrary to what I just said you can seek outside opinions for valuable resources. Become familiar with the deity’s information beforehand and ask about other peoples’ experiences. Just don’t let people take over the work or tell you how to think. Try to do the work yourself. Research is key.

Different techniques for you.

Try a different form of divination to see if the answers are around the same or greatly vary. This won’t hurt and it will help you learn more. Trust your instincts in spirit work. It’s okay to question things.

Protection orders.

If there is constant anxiety and worry, then do yourself the favor and put-up protection wards before spiritual communications begin. It will give you some peace of mind and it doesn’t hurt anything at all.

[writing-house-of-m]

Sexy Sokovian Fortune Teller

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

Word count: 565

Summary: You want to ask Wanda out at the annual Stark Halloween Costume Party

A/N: This is for a 25 sentence prompt challenge set by @vancityfire13 and @runawayswrite - technically I'm late but I wanted to finish and post it 😬

Let me know what you think and I hope you enjoy!

Natasha Romanoff is a fucking liar. 

She told you Wanda would notice you if you were wearing the sweetest costume, but all night she's been talking to Vision and every time you have tried to speak to her when she has been alone, he would pop up out of nowhere. 

You consider the party a dud because It's been hours of the wrong people making conversation with you so you decide to leave. 

Catching your own reflection in the mirror that made the back wall of the elevator you stepped into, made you think a little bit clearer. Maybe you took 'sweetest' a little too literally. Why would any sane person want to speak to someone dressed as a giant sugar packet for a Halloween party? 

Just as the doors are about to close, someone enters and you hear "Hi Y/n." 

She's here, in the elevator, Wanda, with you, alone. 

You manage to squeak out a reply but keep your eyes forward staring at the closing doors, you did not get a chance to mentally prepare for this. 

"I've been trying to get to you all night, I just couldn't get away," she says, turning to you smiling. 

You raise an eyebrow in surprise and she continues, "I like your costume, it's different compared to everyone else's usual 'sexy-whatever-character'. Maybe we could have been salt and pepper shakers or something together instead of me going with," she points to her red outfit with her gloved hands, "sexy Sokovian fortune teller." 

The words are coming out of your mouth before you can even stop yourself, "No I think your costume is great!" 

You gather yourself by clearing your throat, "It's just you- you look really pretty Wanda." 

A blush takes over her cheeks as she smiles from your words but you have already averted your gaze to the floor in embarrassment from your outburst to even notice. 

You continue the short elevator ride with small talk; Wanda joking about how "sweet" your costume is, making you laugh, to Pietro disappearing once he found Monica; you both continue while you walk to your rooms that are across from each other. 

As Wanda says goodnight and turns to her door you force yourself to speak up once more before she walks through. 

"Wanda, I wanted to ask," she turns to look at you, "err, would you like to go out with me? Not today, obviously, maybe tomorrow, actually that might be too soon, how about next week or maybe in a couple of days, I'm not really sure whe-" 

"I'd love that," Wanda cuts in to stop your rambling, "tomorrow sounds great." 

"Oh, ok, cool cool cool," you release a breath, relaxing your tense shoulders, smiling sheepishly. 

You say goodnight to each other again and when you rest your head that night it's about all the possibilities of a future with the girl who's always been so close but so far out of reach in your mind. 

You smile remembering she said yes. 

The first of many yeses that would take place over the years including one at the altar when you begin the rest of your life together. 

She even said yes the following year when you showed her the couples costumes you had picked out for the annual Halloween party - Salt and Pepper shakers (you didn't need to ask Nat for advice this time around). 

[twopoppies]

If someone told me that we will get Harry singing You're Still The One, I Will Survive, Man I Feel Like A Woman, and Hopelessly Devoted To You ALL IN THE SAME YEAR I would not belive them yet here we are. Like-

Never would I have thought SEVEN YEARS since we last saw them together, that 2022 would be one of the larriest years on record.

Hopelessly devoted to Lou

Harry dresses as Danny Zuko for Harryween, just a few days after Louis reminds us, once again, that he played Danny Zuko in a high school production.

Harry flies a rainbow flag with not one, but three Louis cross-eyed smiley faces.

Harry flies a rainbow flag with a huge Louis cross-eyed smiley face

The peace ring returns and Harry is smug about it.

Harry flies a rainbow flag with Only The Brave on it (after doing a double take and noticing it)

Harry sings Still The One at Coachella (more details on why this is a big deal here)

Harry sang I Will Survive at Coachella (369 weeks after he last sang it on stage)

Harry randomly uses an origami fortune teller as a symbol for his song Love Of My Life. It shows the colors red and black (strongly associated with Louis these days) and blue and green (Larry colors). Louis’ album, Faith in The Future, is set to release November 11th. National origami day.

Harry quotes a song from Leonard Cohen’s album, Anthem, which has the larriest cover art ever.

Louis’ music plays at Harry’s venues before the show

The fish on the Pleasing merch at Coachella have blue eyes/thin upper lip or green eyes/full lips

Harry referenced the poet Richard Lax in his You Are Home promo. Lax has collections of poems with titles like "Love Had a Compass", "The Green Island," "The Blue Boat”, and "Circus of the Sun."

Harry doodles H L on his sneakers while on “vacation” with his beard.

You Are Home coordinates match up to a lot of Louis and Larry locations

Harry seen at Louis’ LA show (more here and here)

Harry has a blue and green moment

The You Are Home website tweets a Ralph Waldo Emerson quote about people destined to meet, 12 years to the day after Harry and Louis’ xfactor auditions.

And just in case you think Harry is the only one obsessed with Larry (like rads do):

Louis mentions Harry being at his show

Louis acknowledges a rainbow flag with a huge picture of the Larry hug on it.

Louis wears a “blue bird” colored shirt

Louis adds I Will Survive to his post show playlist the day before H performs that song at Coachella.

Louis plays Lego House as his exit song twice. The first time the day Harry’s House was announced and Harry’s first Coachella performance (where H also performed Still The One). Then Lego House again on the day Harry’s House was released and Harry performed his ONO in NY.

Louis’ merch colors match Harry’s merch colors

Louis wears Harry’s House colors the day of Harry’s House release

Louis changes his Twitter header to a photo with the Larry hug in the background.

Louis makes a point of going out for sushi right after Harry’s House drops, despite rolling his eyes in the past about the trendiness of sushi.

Despite his theme being red/black/white, Louis changes the arena lights to blue and green and he does it again and again and again and again

Louis acknowledges a larrie in a rainbow TPWK t shirt

Louis acknowledges a fan holding a poster of Harry with a rainbow flag (more confirmation here and here)

Louis acknowledged a fan holding a Sing Walls if Larry is Real sign ( more info here and here).

Louis winks at a fan holding Larry dolls (while singing the “come so far from Princess Park line)

Louis give a thumbs up to a fan holding two photos of him and Harry and points to himself while singing Too Young

Louis’ venue plays Sunflower Vol 6, Kiwi, and Sweet Creature before the show.

Louis acknowledges a fan’s I Can’t Change Tattoo

Louis adds Don’t Stop Believing and Halo to his preshow playlist

Louis acknowledges that Prada released a collection with Larry-inspired tattoos by joining a Prada Twitter space the day of the launch.

Louis uses green lights during OTB for the first time, the night Harry launches the You Are Home campaign. Not just for a moment, but during the whole song

I’m sure this isn’t everything they did this year, but it’s a lot. And some of it may be coincidence or a reach, but all of it? I really doubt it.

[drunknillawafer]

right down the line: zuko x firebender!reader | part 3

You grew up close to the Royal Family due to your father's position as a General, but you ran away from home after the agni kai against your best friend. Now, you've joined the Gaang and plan on doing your part in ending the 100-year war.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

hiii here is part 3! hopefully you guys like it, i'm still getting used to writing a fic and keeping it published... rmr to like/reblog/comment if u like it, it's like feedback >.< again i do not own these characters or the atla universe this is simply fan fiction! about 2331 words btww

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

“You don’t actually believe any of this stuff, do you?” Sokka painfully reminds me of his disapproving attitude about my belief in fortune tellers.

We were walking through the forest when we ran into an eerie man. He knew about the future. He had given us an umbrella because a psychic told him to and then it started to rain. It was weird.

Katara and I took one look at each other and immediately agreed. We have to go see this lady.

Events like these would be odd to anyone else, like Jet. But to Aang, it’s pretty common. It must be his tie to the spirit realm, magic gravitates toward him.

After a few weeks of joining the group and abandoning my post with the Freedom Fighters, I had learned a lot of things about the people who stumbled upon that Fire Nation camp and changed the trajectory of my plans. Katara and Sokka are siblings from the Southern Water Tribe, and Aang is an airbender from… a while ago. He was frozen in the ice for one hundred years when Katara found him. They’re amazing. I can see why Zuko hasn’t caught up to them yet.

But I also don’t want to know what Zuko would do to Aang if he did catch up, or what I’d do if he did.

I don’t know my place in this group yet, or if I should tell them I’m a fire-bender, but for now, we’re standing in front of a circular red door at the strange village the eerie man told us to go to.

Apparently, Aunt Wu has been waiting for us.

“Kind of, it’s nice to know.” I reply to Sokka’s sour question.

I’ve been thinking about what to ask the psychic. I didn’t want to spoil the fun, like ask if we would win this war or if I’ll ever come home. I decided I would keep it light, like Katara. Ask about love.

When we enter, a little girl in a pink robe and two buns on the side of her head greets us.

“I’m Meng and I’m Aunt Wu’s assistant.” She introduces herself. She motions towards the pillows on the right for us to sit down. It’s a small yellow waiting room with red lights, green accents, and a wooden floor. Cozy. “Would you guys like some tea or bean curd puffs?” She offers.

“I’ll try a puff!” Sokka perked up. Meng leaves the room to retrieve the goods and we are left alone, sitting on the soft cushions.

“You don’t believe in fortune telling, Sokka?” Aang asks.

“I don’t need some psychic to tell me about the future. I’m worried about right now.” He shrugs.

I roll my eyes. “Sokka’s a skeptic.”

Before he can reply to my dig, Meng returns with the curd puffs and tea. She sets it down in on the floor front of Aang, making sure he can see her favor toward him. “Enjoy!” Meng blushes and scurries away.

Sokka drags the tray away from an unbothered Aang, “Don’t mind if I do.”

I’d gotten used to Katara and Aang, they were fairly easy to travel with. But it was Sokka who bothered me. He was unlike anyone I’d ever met before. His jokes, I’ll admit were a little funny, but he can be so stubborn sometimes. He didn’t even think Katara was right when she said to put up the tarp on the tent. She was totally right, it’s better to be safe than sorry when it comes to rain! Or how he was complaining on the entire walk here.

But then he’ll take the fishing job for us when we’re out of money. I mean, He did get us sick for being out in the storm, but it’s the thought that counts, right? The same reason he can be frustrating is the same reason he saved the village: he won’t listen to anyone when his mind set.

He’s true and noble, really. It’s admiring. I shake my head. He’s a conundrum.

An older woman wearing a floor-length yellow robe walks in from the backroom. This must be Aunt Wu. “Welcome! Who wants to go first?” she gleefully asks.

I look at everyone, but no one speaks up. After a moment of silence, I raise my hand. “I’ll go.”

“Perfect, follow me!” Aunt Wu guides me to the hallway which leads to her workspace. She opens the door to let me in first and I’m greeted by dim lights and a small fireplace in the middle of the room. There are sitting cushions and lit candles on the floor, near a decorative stand with a bowl. A closer look and I see small and medium sized bones at the very top.

“This is my method. You choose a bone, throw it in a fire. The fire makes cracks in the bones, and I read the cracks. The bones never lie.” She explains. “Go ahead.” I grab a random bone and throw it in the fire, per her instructions, and watch as the flames engulf the calcium.

We sit down in front of the fire as we patiently wait for the cracks to start forming. Aunt Wu is focused on the fortune while I look around the room, pretending I’m not waiting for a prediction.

“Do you have any questions?” She asks.

“I don’t know, I mean. You can just tell me what the bones say.” I chicken out from my original plan.

By now, there are a few cracks in my chosen bone. Aunt Wu burrows her eyebrows and leans forward. “I see you falling in love with a warrior.” She pauses. “His mother figure left his life early, when he was just a little boy. He is an excellent swordsman, and an even better friend.”

“You can see all of that from a bunch of cracks?” I question, deflecting from the fortune.

“Yes, you’ll take part in a great battle with this love of yours.” She goes on. “Remember to look in friendship.” Friendship.

“I will,” I nod. “Thank you, Aunt Wu.” I get up from my pillow and bow to her as a gesture of goodbye. I wonder if she knew what I wanted to ask.

When I exit the room through the door, I’m greeted by a flustered Sokka.

“Spying on me?” I ask him, fighting a smile on my face.

“No, I was just – going to the bathroom!” He spoke. Quickly, he marched to the restrooms beyond Aunt Wu’s door. O-kay.

I walk back to the waiting room and tell Katara to go in after me. She jumps up from her seat in a giddy excitement and heads toward the back room.

I sit next to Aang on the soft pillows and search for the curd puffs. Sokka made them look so good.

“So, what do you think she’s going to ask?” Aang says as he hands me the snack.

“Probably about love, you know. Who she’s going to marry. If he’s gonna be tall.” I stuff the curd puff into my mouth and let the savory taste absorb my mind. These are good.

“Yeah, haha, right. Well…I’ll be right back.” He stands up. “I gotta go to the bathroom!” Apparently, everyone needs to right now. But it’s the first stop we’ve made in about an hour, so.

“Say hi to Sokka for me.” I watch as he hurries away. A few seconds later, the boy in blue returns.

I hold a puff in my hand and point at the delicious snack for emphasis. “Hey, these are great.”

He sits next to me and grabs one for himself, eating it in one bite. He seems to be in thought. “Are you okay?” I poke.

“Yeah, I’m great.”

☆

When we leave Aunt Wu’s, Sokka’s walking next to me as Katara and Aang lead the way.

We reach the center of town when Katara asks, “What happened to the sky?” The citizens are staring upward, murmuring to themselves.

A man standing nearby overhears her question. “Every year, Aunt Wu reads the clouds and tells us the fate of our village.”

“Can you believe this guy?” Sokka looks at me in disbelief. “Now the clouds?”

Another villager, a woman, continues the man’s explanation. “She’s going to tell us if the volcano will remain dormant.” She points to the mountain behind her.

Do they actually let Aunt Wu tell them if the volcano is going to erupt? How?

“Do you actually let Aunt Wu tell you if the volcano is going to erupt? How?” Sokka asks the man. Took the question right out of my brain.

“She’s coming, hush!” Katara shushes her brother.

Aunt Wu walks right in the middle of the crowd as they make way for her, clapping and cheering. She begins to list the shape of the clouds, followed by a prediction of the town. Good harvest, twins are having a good year, and the volcano will not erupt the town.  

“She’s been right for twenty years, maybe that’s a sign she can be trusted.” I nudge Sokka with my elbow. He rolls his eyes in annoyance, I’ve been bought like the rest of them.

Katara and Aang are swept away with the current of cheers and idolization for Aunt Wu. Though, it seems like since we got here Aang’s head has been anywhere else but, on the psychic, and her predictions.

“Right…” A suddenly serious Sokka pulls me away from the crowd to the side where we are separated from the group. “Just in case she ends up, being right, I want to let you know that… uh…” He lets the seconds fly by.

“Spit it out.”

“I like you.” He lets out.

Oh.

“And I know you’re not really like open to people in general,” He continues. “It’s been a few weeks and I hardly know about your life before the Freedom Fighters.” Sokka pauses to read my face. “But I like you. Ever since I first saw you.”

I haven’t really shared anything about myself to them, true. I don’t think about him in that way, false.

It was the morning after.

Fire Lord Ozai ordered his best General, my father, and his family, me, to attend a Royal Agni Kai. They didn’t happen much but when they did, it was required for all the important people of the Fire Lord’s inner circle and their families to attend. Some twisted tradition.

When I arrived in the sea of crimson clothes and serious faces, I believed I was going to witness an agni kai between Zuko’s Uncle Iroh and his brother. Who else could it be? But I was wrong. I saw Iroh in the audience, and it felt like a thousand pounds had been rested on my chest. I wouldn’t believe what I had to endure next. What Zuko had to experience.

I would see Fire Lord Ozai’s fire-bending with my own two eyes, but it would be in an agni kai against my best friend, his son.

Now, I’m locking myself in my room in defiance. I don’t want to have anything to do with my father if he’d let me see the cruelty up close and personal. Rage wouldn’t begin to describe the feeling bubbling in my throat.

I wasn’t sure if I should go see Zuko, if his injuries are unsafe for visitors. I’d regret it as soon as the servant brought the letter the prince had sent to me.

As I close the door to my chambers behind the maid, I open the note for the sign of anything relieving.

Y/N,

Father banished me. I must go find the Avatar, so I’m leaving on a ship. Uncle is coming. I don’t know when I’ll see you again, so I wanted to let you know that I was hoping we could be more than friends. But I can’t focus on that right now. I must find the Avatar to restore my honor and come home.

Zuko

I re-read the note three times before understanding what it is that he’s telling me. I feel two opposite feelings.

The bubble in my throat is slowly forming into a ball of tears, ready to pour out at any minute. He’s gone. He’s mutilated by his own father and then sent away. I hate him, I hate the Fire Lord. For everything he’s taken away from me.

On the other end of the spectrum are butterflies. The ones I’d been pushing down for the past year about Zuko. I didn’t want to ruin what we have or change it. We were nice as we were. I guess he was feeling it too.

But it’s too late. There’s no more time to sit and wonder if a boy likes you back. It’s not about that anymore. It’s about finally ending this war and stopping the Fire Nation.  

“So, what do you think?” Sokka looks at me, searching for an indication in my eyes.

“I…” struggle to find the words, “like you too.” I let out a small laugh after my confession. “But I can’t. Not right now... I just want to think about it a little longer. Is that okay?” It’s my turn to look at him and hope I didn’t ruin everything.

But Sokka’s kind. “No of course not. I understand. I just thought you should know. I’ll be here, yaknow, if you change your mind.” He flashes that grand smile at me.

“I’ll be sure to find you when I do.”

I don’t want to ruin anything by being too late, but I’m not sure if I should go in this direction. I’m figuring things out with my newfound friends. They don’t even know I’m a fire bender. Would Sokka feel the same if he knew I was from the Fire Nation? I don’t want to know the answer.

Still, it was nice to know he liked me back. I could revel in that a bit.