#scribbled it like a madman to get it out of my head lol

[ganondoodle]

you know when you keep thinking of a scene and cant move on until you at least hastily scribble it? yeah.

(technically skyward sword comic (destiny) concept art but i dont expect anyone to make sense of this mess lol .. its a scene from the third and last part of the story, blue thing is a horribly rough version of hylias true form)

[laughterisorange]

TICKLETOBER 2023

Prompt Day 14: Soft

(yeah I know it’s technically the 15th at the time I’m posting this for me, but sue me, I wanted to write it well)

Pairing: Bakugou/Kirishima

This is a tickle fic. If you don’t like, don’t read. WARNING FOR PROFANITIES, it is Baku after all lol

Summary: Bakugou has really soft hair, and Kirishima is in awe.

Fic Size: Clementine

A Soft Head

Contrary to popular belief, Bakugou was the clingy one in the relationship. If someone had told Kirishima that when they first started dating, well, the redhead would’ve laughed, as he knew himself to be one of the most touch oriented people in their class, hanging onto other people, and giving hugs without reservation. In comparison, Bakugo was the most averse of their class, and either had to be manhandled to accept affection, or was doing the manhandling to prove his own dominance.

Now though, after dating for a few months, Kirishima had borne witness to the truth of Bakugou Katsuki. He was cuddly. Impossibly so, if he was honest - Katsuki was the type to be aggressive in his desire of affection, rather than aggressively affectionate himself. 

For instance, at the moment he was practically on top of Kirishima, face smooshed into the spiky teens chest, as the boy ran his fingers through the blonds hair. He had come into the room and basically inserted himself into Kirishima’s personal bubble - demanding Eijirou’s love without uttering a word. Eijirou ran his fingers through Katsuki’s hair again.

That was another thing. 

Contrary to popular belief, Bakugou’s hair was so… soft.

Bakugou tilted his head with a muffle whine. A question as to why Kirishima stopped.

Kirishima huffed out a laugh, resuming his carding.

“Wut.” Bakugou asked, his eyes flicking up at Eijirou.

“Your hair is soft.”

“...You knew this already, Ei.”

“Yeah, but,” Kirishima twisted the strands between his fingers. “It’s really soft. Like… how?”

Bakugou chuckled lightly, “What do you mean, how?”

“Well when nothing’s touching it, it looks razor sharp! You don’t even gel it or anything, it’s just like that - it’s amazing.”

“Don’t sound so reverent you weirdo.” Bakugou wriggled into Kirishima’s, burying his face deeper with a deep breath.

“OH, but I am reverent, Katsuki. As someone who literally has to gel his hair to get it as spiky as it is -”

“You could just leave it down -”

“- my point is,” Kirishima said, wiggling his fingers at the base of Bakugou’s neck, making him scrunch up with a choked sound. “It’s unfair that you don’t even have to try, and yet it’s so SOFT.” He massaged into the scalp and hair again, but lighter this time, playing into the reverence of his boyfriends beauty. 

He didn’t expect the startled giggling that Katsuki produced at the feeling.

“Eihihih don’t,” He reached his hands up to half heartedly stop the red head, who was now looking like Christmas had arrived early. “Don’t even think about it.”

“This is too good.” He wiggled his fingers up from the base of his head by the neck to the top and around to Katsuki’s ear. A stream of higher pitched giggles repeated from the blond. “You’re ticklish. On your head.”

“Fuhuhuhck yohohohu, AH, nohohoho!”

Eijriou attacked Katsuki’s neck, wiggling and prodding, grinning like a madman. The look on his face only made Katuski laugh harder, still sleepily trying to catch his boyfriend’s hands. Mischievously, Eijirou darted down and scribbled at Katsuki’s sides and stomach. Like a sort of game, he would raise his hands up and Katsuki would follow him. It made him think of a cat video he had seen recently, the thought making the smile on his face widen.

“Stohohop looking at me like thahahat!”

“Like what?” Eijriou asked, feigning ignorance with a smile.

“Like I’m fuhuhuhucking - EIehehehehe!” Katsuki dissolved into laughter, as Eijirou targeted the spot between his underarms and his ribs.

“Like you’re fucking… what?”

“LIhihihke I’m cuhuhuhte!”

“You are cute!”

“NOHOHOhohohoh!”

Kirishima slowed his fingers, sensing that Katsuki was nearing his limit.

“Cute,” Kirishima poked him in the stomach, “and soft,” he tickled his side, Katsuki squirming as his giggles died down.

Kirishima looked lovingly at the giggling mess underneath him.

He leaned down, and pressed a kiss to Katsuki’s lips, stealing the last bit of his laughter. “And a softie.”

Katuski rolled his eyes, grumbling and tugging slightly at the hands who had him pinned. “I’ll get you back for it, you asshole.”

Kirishima tutted. “Katsuki, you know what they say,” 

Katsuki’s brow furrowed slightly in confusion, and Eijriou continued with a shit-eating grin. “The only thing worse than a hard heart is a soft head.”

[scooprtroopr]

The Perfect Day

Eddie Munson x Reader

Word Count: just shy of 1k

Summary: Just a perfect lazy day with your favourite person in the world

a/n: LOL she's back from the dead and writing again! I haven't written in a million years so idk we'll see how this goes. Big ups to @chrissycunninqham and @happinessinthedarkesttimes for just being good friends who reminded me writing should be fun 🖤

If anyone asked you to describe your perfect day, this might just be it. You had spent your morning lounging on the couch, legs slung across Eddie’s lap while you were reading the latest issue of Rolling Stone. He had one hand on your leg, slowly rubbing circles, the other was scribbling notes for his next Dungeons and Dragons session.

The day had started off sunny but over the last couple of hours you noticed gray clouds rolling in, a storm clearly on the horizon. Sure the sun made for good weather, but you couldn’t deny that the sound of rain on the trailer’s roof was like magic, as it would instantly calm you. 

You threw your arms up over your head letting out a yawn while you stretched, slightly startling Eddie. Sitting up you leaned over and placed a kiss on his cheek. 

“As much as I wish I could stay here all day, my back is starting to hurt. I’m gonna go have a shower love,” you said while getting off the couch. You turned around just in time to see the small pout on this face, clearly perturbed you had disrupted the calm morning you were having. 

Walking into the bathroom you couldn’t help the small smile on your face while you thought about the boy sitting out on the couch. You really did love Eddie, more than you could possibly ever describe, but his ability to be so absorbed in something for hours on end was not a trait you shared. Yes, spending the morning doing nothing was lovely, but Rolling Stone was only so long, and you knew Eddie could prep his sessions for forever. With that thought you turned on the hot water, and stepped into the shower. 

By the time you were done steam had filled the bathroom, fogging up the mirror so your own image was distorted. With the water turned off you could hear rain hitting the roof, clearly the looming storm from earlier had arrived. Wrapping yourself in a towel you exited the bathroom, steam following you out. You peaked at Eddie, still on the couch scribbling away like a madman, before you made your way into his room with the intention of getting dressed. 

Keyword being intention. You got as far as putting on a pair of clean underwear before you were sitting on Eddie’s bed. Still warm and cozy from the shower, you decided you were too warm to put a shirt on just yet. So you laid down on your stomach, pulling the sheet up just to your lower back, closed your eyes and listened to this rain. Okay, so maybe this was how you would describe your perfect day, but something was definitely missing. Before you could start dissecting what a perfect day really was you heard the bedroom door creak open. Turning your head to the side you saw Eddie standing in the doorway, staring at you. He made his way over, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“Ya know, I was starting to wonder where you had run off to after your shower,” he said, voice soft while he started tracing the curve of your spine with his finger, “I wasn’t expecting to find you in here laid out so pretty though”

You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks before you responded, “I was so warm, and the sound of the rain, I just felt so cozy in here. I didn’t mean to leave you out there alone, besides you seemed like you were .” 

“Well I’m done planning for D&D, I think the session will be fun. But ya know, I’m here and you’re here, so maybe we could have some fun now.” A smile bloomed across your face as you watched Eddie lift his eyebrows suggestively, and bite his lip. 

You knew you shouldn’t rile him up, but the idea had come to you so quickly you couldn’t stop yourself. So you scooted over pulling the covers up, beckoning to him to join you. When he crawled under the covers he pulled you close, leaving a kiss on your lips before traveling down your neck. It was almost too easy, you had to stop yourself from giggling. 

“I was thinking of something really fun we could do today,” you cooed. His head shot head, smile as big as could be at that. He looked at you expectantly, so you pulled him close before you whispered into his ear, “I think it would be so fun if we… got comfy and took a nap together”

At that you burst out in a fit of giggles, hearing your boyfriend moan, before he rolled over to the other side of the bed. “Princess, you know you’re killing me right? You can’t just do that to a guy!” He feigned being mad, but you could tell he wouldn’t deny you the one thing you wanted to do today. You gave him an innocent smile before he rolled his eyes and pulled you in to cuddle. Looking up at him you pecked his cheek before closing your eyes. As you snuggled into his side you couldn’t help but feel just a little bad. 

Craning your neck you could see Eddie was already looking down at you,  “Nap with me now, and I promise we’ll have loads of fun when we wake up.” At that his eyes screwed shut, making you laugh. “Well hurry up and fall asleep gorgeous, we don’t have all day.” 

Yeah, this was it. This was exactly how you would describe your perfect day.

[missscarletta7]

The Broken Crown- Chapter 1

Hello! So this is my first Peaky Blinders Fanfiction.  I own nothing, except for the few OCs I created. 

This story is also on Wattpad and FF.net under the same title if you want to read it there as well--- however be warned it is not as edited as this post and I changed the name of one of the characters because I thought it was a better fit... lol!

Summary: All Margaret Shelby ever wanted, was the opportunity to write her own story. Only now is she beginning to realize that her brother may have already written it for her...

  Enjoy!

OoOoOo

"He's a ghost, he's a god, He's a man, He's a guru,

You're one microscopic cog, In his catastrophic plan

Designed and directed by his red right hand"

~Red Right Hand~

1919

She had that dream again, the one where she had to decide which door she would open. Both doors were identical in every way. Yet, she just stands in the empty room lit as if by candles; frozen in place; The weight of the decision ultimately waking her out of-

No, that wouldn't do, a dark-haired girl thought as she scratched out the words she had just written down. In a small bedroom on the second floor of number Seventeen Watery Lane, sixteen-year-old Margaret Shelby sat on her bed, or rather the bed she shared with her older sister. Dressed in the long white nightgown that had once belonged to her mother and with a pen in hand, she scribbled down more words in her brown leather-bound journal resting on her lap. The journal was gifted to her by her Aunt Polly on her most previous birthday. Upon receiving it she couldn't wait to fill its pages. She liked writing, ever since she learned how to form her words into a cohesive sentence on paper. It had been an outlet, a distraction from the "shit-hole" that was Small Heath, Birmingham.

As a child, she had the fondest memories of taking the drawings her eldest brother Arthur would sketch and would accompany his rendering with an original story. She took pride in how much he would always be so impressed and relished when he called her “his little genius". As the years passed, she believed if she could write and publish a story that was good enough, then maybe one day she could provide for her family. Give them a way out of their current situation. Not that she knew much of how dire their situation really was. To their credit, her family tried their best to shield her, as well as her youngest brother Finn, from feeling the effects of living a life in the slums. She was lucky in that way, most of the girls her age had dropped out of school and had a child of their own already.

Her thoughts of prose were soon interrupted by familiar sounds causing the pit of her stomach to sink. Even after three months of him being back, she doubted she would ever get used to it. Opposite from her bed, through the thin wall with floral green wallpaper which had been peeling off for years, muffled cries could be heard. Maggie knew exactly who it was, her brother, Tommy.

She placed her journal onto the thin cotton sheets and traveled into the hallway. Before she knew it, she was standing outside the door of her older sibling. Taking a deep breath, she decided against knocking and slowly opened the door.

"Tommy?" she whispered into his candlelit room. She could see he was awake. Lying flat on his back in bed, staring at the ceiling.

"Go back to bed, Mags," the second oldest Shelby ordered, but the girl hesitated.

"I thought I heard yelling," she sounded apologetic, before taking a whiff of the air. "Do you smell that?"

"I said back to your bloody bed," his harsh tone surprised her.

This time she did listen, gently she closed her brother's door and made her way back to the empty bedroom she once was in.

OoOoOo

The next day, Margaret exited the small school she attended that was located right on the edge of Small Heath with her best friend Cara Ryan by her side. The girls had played together for as long as their memories had served them. Cara was a stylish and talkative girl who stood at a height of five feet and six inches. Dazzling green eyes sparkled and her straight honey blonde hair fell upon her shoulders. Her family did better than most, the Ryan's own a dress shop that is very popular amongst the younger women, Ada, in fact, is a frequent customer of the establishment. Though the word 'customer' was a loose term, the Ryan's like most shop owners in the area were obliged to give anyone with relations to the Peaky Blinders whatever they wanted. Mrs. Ryan's and the two oldest sisters operated it, and in her spare time, Cara could often be found working in the backroom, sewing buttons and beads to fabrics. The family had a deal, in a year's time Cara would come to work for the shop full time, but until then Cara could continue her education.

"Can't believe Henrietta's having a baby," Maggie said aloud, as shorter and younger students ran past them excitedly.

"I can," Cara replied smugly. "That girl would open her legs up for any sod that gave her a second glance."

"I feel bad for her." She admitted thinking of the fifteen-year-old whose life was now forever changed.

Cara shook her head, "Don't it's her own bloody fault."

After rounding the corner, they both saw Ross Murray. A thin nineteen-year-old with dark hair standing at five feet and eleven inches, resting his back against the dull red brick wall, smoking a cigarette. Cara stopped them in their tracks and waved at the young man. "All right, Ross?!"

Maggie smiled at her friend, she liked Ross, he'd always looked out for her and Cara like they were his own sisters. They had all been in school together up until the moment Ross was kicked out for beating up another boy named Jonah Smith. In all likelihood Jonah may have had it coming. He never had the ability to let go. For example, just last year Maggie would have to constantly have to turn down his advances for over a month. Due to the reputation of her family, attention from boys was a rare occurrence. Which she didn't mind, she never really felt romantic feelings for anyone. However, Jonah took advantage of her brothers absence. One day he even cornered her when she went back to the classroom to grab the jumper she left behind. Thankfully Jonah eventually stopped, and never bothered her again.

Getting kicked out of school didn't seem to bother Ross though. Once he turned eighteen, he enlisted to help with the war effort. He completed basic training within the required three months, and according to the letters he would send her and Cara, he was held in high esteem with all of his commanding officers. Just as he was about to be shipped to France, an armistice was declared. He'd managed to find a job working at the BSA factory rather quickly, but when he came back into town Maggie could tell he had changed. He now had this mentality that made him seem as though he was ready for a battle, yet had no one to fight.

"Cara, Margaret," he acknowledged, stubbing out his cigarette on the bricks he had rested his back upon "Where are you two heading, aye?"

"Just going home," Maggie told him, readjusting the bag on her shoulder.

He came closer to them, "I'll walk with you. Birmingham hasn't been the safest place now that all these blokes with fucked up brains are back."

"Look at that Mags," Cara said happily, and he allowed her to take his arm. "The only gentleman in Small Heath"

Maggie smiled knowingly at the sight. Since Cara was ten years old, she had been smitten with the dark-haired boy. Cara would frequently turn down other offers in hopes that Ross would one day ask her to be his girl. They both hoped that it would happen soon, because in Cara's words "She wasn't getting any younger".

"Don't know what you two keep going to school for," He expressed to them, as they began to walk in the direction the girls needed to travel. "What more is there to learn?"

His comment made Maggie shrug, "It's something to do."

"Yeah, most girls our age who aren't in school are either whores or mothers." She agreed.  "Or both."

They continued chatting about their school day as they walked closer into town. The canal that ran nearby as well as the different establishments were coming into view. "Mags, is that your brother?" Ross asked, pointing to a couple of boys.

Maggie turned her head to where her friend was pointing. He was right, her younger brother Finn, was running around in front of the pharmacy with Isaiah Jesus. He must have skipped school again. "Oi!" Maggie called out angrily, and Finn froze in place "What have you been up to all day, hm?"

"Please don't tell Tommy," the ten-year-old begged.

Maggie was about to tell him off, but she was caught off guard by the arrival of a person exiting Compton's, "Ada?"

"Oh, hello." The dark-haired beauty clutched the paper parcel tighter in her hands, clearly caught off guard by the sudden appearance of her younger siblings. "Heading home then?"

Maggie nodded and Ada continued, "I'll join you." The older sister then turned to her brother "Right Finn?" The boy scowled, but nodded all the same.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Maggie told her friends, still trying to process what her sister was up to.

Cara didn't seem to mind her best friends' announcement to depart. Turning to the hazel-eyed boy she asked, "Fancy accompanying me to the confectionery?"

He looked over to the Shelby family first, "Will you three be alright by yourself?"

Ada looked amused at his worry, "We'll be fine. I doubt anyone would mess with us." He accepted her answer with a nod and led Cara to the candy shop.

As the water rushed in the cut, Ada and Maggie walked down the sidewalk arm in arm. Finn wasn't too far in front of them. He was running and jumping around like a madman. That boy always had so much energy, Maggie found herself thinking. No wonder he skipped school, the poor thing probably could not sit still.

"That Murray boy has aged well hasn't he," Ada commented, finally breaking the silence, "Have you two?"

"Ada!" The younger sister cried out in surprise.

"Just asking." She shrugged, "Jesus you're a prude"

"Everyone's a prude compared to you" she retorted, "What were you doing at the pharmacy?"

Ada didn't reply though, instead opting to purse her lips. They were almost home now; Maggie could even see Pol heading to the house, traveling towards them. She was about to wave at her aunt until she was distracted by Finn, who ran around in front of his sisters. Her heart clenched when she noticed a black metal object in his hand.

"Finn, where did you get that gun?" she questioned, yet the youngest Shelby only giggled in response. 

"Oi! Quit messing around," Ada scolded, moving forward in an attempt to take the weapon away. "You shouldn't b-"

BANG! The sisters screamed and Aunt Polly, who had witnessed the whole event transpire, rushed over from down the street. Both the girls tried to catch their breath and a shocked Finn looked like he was trying to mentally process what had just happened. 

"The hell were you thinking?!" Polly scolded, snatching the gun from his hand. "Where did you get this?!

"He nearly fucking killed me!" Ada screeched pointing to her brother.

"I-I found it on the sideboard of the shop." Finn spit out as they watched his face concave and he soon began weeping in fear. "I-I thought it was empty. I'm sorry I didn't mean to-"

His tears pulled on Maggie's heartstrings, but Polly wasn't having it. She pushed the sobbing boy towards Maggie ordering, "Take him home, and no more playing with guns. Next time you leave them be." 

The young boy nodded and allowed his sister to lead him back home."I didn't know Mags, I swear" he cried out again.

"I know you. You can apologize to Ada once she's feeling more forgiving" she expressed, her arms wrapped around his small shoulders.

OoOoOo

Childhood had molded her into the person she had become. Now she understood that...

Maggie internally groaned and scratched out what she had just written. No, that was definitely not good enough. She was pulled out of her thoughts when she heard a chuckle. Her eyes were taken off the page by Ada, who was getting ready for her date with some mystery man.

"What's so funny?" the younger sister grumbled.

"You," Ada smiled as she brushed her hair in front of the small vanity mirror, "And how seriously you take yourself."

Quickly she closed her journal, wanting to change the subject "So, what was the family meeting about?" Maggie asked, not genuinely curious.

"New copper’s coming to town," Ada replied unbothered, more interested in fastening her shoe buckle.

"When I went downstairs, I caught Finn trying to listen through the door. Told him off for eavesdropping," the younger sister snickered .

"Can you believe that little tosser?" Ada said, putting on her paste earring. "I don't know what's gotten into him lately. He could have killed me today!"

"It was an accident, Ada." She reasoned, opening her journal once more, "Pol already told him and John off, what more can you do?"

"I can still bitch," the older sister huffed, before looking at the book in her sisters' hands. "Are you ever gonna tell me what you're writing about?" Ada asked pointedly, now completely dressed in a white fur coat that rested over her dress.

"Are you ever gonna tell me who you've been going out to see the last few months?" Maggie shot back jokingly. 

Ada responded by pantomiming the locking of her lips, which only made the younger sister smile. "Cover for me?"

"As always," The girl assured Ada before she quietly opened and closed the bedroom door.

It was about an hour later when Maggie began to hear the familiar muffled cries. Feeling hopeless as she stared at the green papered wall.

OoOoOo

The following day was mostly uneventful for Margaret. She'd gone to school and heard all about Cara's "date" with Ross. According to Cara, he was a complete "gentleman", much to the blonde's disappointment, though she still clung onto hope. 

Now she stood in the kitchen with her Aunt and sister making dinner, continuously kneading some dough until her skinny arms began to burn. Hopefully, this batch of bread would last long enough for her to enjoy. Last time she made bread her siblings had eaten it all, not saving any for her. Upon hearing the door slam, she and her aunt stopped to glance over to the door.

"Holy Shit!" The girl exclaimed, witnessing her eldest brother who was bloody and beaten, being assisted by John into a wooden chair.

"Finn, go find Tommy and tell him what happened," Polly commanded. Like a shot, Finn was running out of the room, but not before Pol hurriedly added, "And tell him we need a shit ton of more alcohol!"

Polly then immediately began to gather gauze and rods of wood to make a splint, "Margaret, start heating up water, then cut this cloth up in stripes." Nodding at the directive, the girl began to do just that.

"The fuck happened?" Ada interrogated, arms crossing in front of her chest.

"Was told some of the men found him like this outside the cinema," John explained.

"Do you know who?" Maggie heard her sister continue as she put the kettle over the flame, but Arthur remained silent.

"I'd like to know as well," An aggravated Polly chimed in.

This time Arthur did speak. “That Belfast copper,” the mustached man spit out, "I'll discuss it more once Tom gets here."

They all fell into silence, the only noise coming from Maggie who pulled out a chair to sit next to her brother, and quietly began cutting the cloth Polly left for her on the table. "Do you think this is enough?" Maggie asked her aunt after she finished.

"Should be plenty, love," Pol told her, taking one of the strips to start mending his hand.

"John, wipe the blood out of his eye," Ada told the third eldest sibling who was just watching the ladies scrabble around as they tended to Arthur.

"Since when did you give orders?" John asked incredulously.

"I'm a trained nurse." The sister stated.

Though seeing as John wasn't budging Maggie rose from her seat and began to wipe the blood herself.

"Don't make me laugh. It hurts my face," Arthur joked as Polly bandaged him up. "You're a nurse like Mags here is a writer."

His comment caused more annoyance than Maggie cared to admit. With her index finger, she pressed onto a forming bruise on his cheek with great pressure, instigating a string of curses to come out of the eldest man's mouth.

"Oops," Maggie said insincerely. This caused Arthur to look to his aunt, wondering if any reprimanding would be given to the girl, but Polly just gave her brother a 'like you weren't asking for it' look.

 "I bloody am!" The older Shelby girl whined to John.

"You went to one first aid class in the church hall and got thrown out for giggling," John corrected her.

"Not before I learnt how to stop somebody from choking," she shot back.

"I'm not bloody choking, am I?" Arthur spoke gruffly.

"You will be when I wrap this cloth around your neck." She told him as she poured hot water from the kettle into the bowl.

"Let me see him." Tommy's voice was heard as he entered the kitchen. "Well, have this" Tommy passed the bottle of rum and Arthur took a swig. Grabbing a rag, he immediately got to work tending to his brother's face.

"He said Mr. Churchill sent him to Birmingham. 'National interest', he said. Something about a robbery." Arthur explained. "He said he wants us to help him"

"We don't help coppers," John said immediately, disgusted at the thought.

"He knew all about our war records. He said we're patriots like him. He wants us to be his eyes and ears. I said -" He paused a moment before continuing, "I said we'd have a family meeting and take a vote".

Everyone remained silent, and frankly, that was enough of an answer to the eldest. "Why not? We have no truck with Fenians or communist," Arthur said exasperated, before heatedly asking Tommy. "What's wrong with you?"

Tommy continued to stare back at him, before asking his aunt, "What the fuck is wrong with him lately?"

"If I knew I'd buy the cure from Compton's Chemist," Polly answered, staring at Tom who stared right back.

OoOoOo

Being alone at night was something Maggie had gotten used to now. The cries next door, however, that was something entirely different. Sighing to herself, she decided to give it another go. Once again, she rose from her bed, and ventured into the hallway. This time though she brought her journal with her. Not long she stood in front of her brother's door, allowing herself to open it. 

Again, in the candlelit room, she saw him lying in his bed staring at the ceiling, though she couldn't tell if his eyes were open or not. "Still awake?" she asked.

"Can't seem to fall asleep," Tommy mumbled calmly. She took his stillness as permission to enter.

"Do you remember when I was a little girl and you used to read me books to make me fall asleep?" she asked, moving closer to the bed, "I used to love those voices you'd do for all the different characters from the picture books."

He nodded and he couldn't help the ghost of a smile while thinking of the memory. Unlike his other siblings, Maggie was the only one who would beg him to read to her. It was something they bonded over.

"If you want," she continued, motioning her hand to hold the journal up. "I can read you my story." Tommy was silent as he looked at the journal for a moment, before Maggie added, "I just thought maybe I could try to help you sleep like you did for me."

"Only if you do voices" he stressed jokingly, then shifted his body to make room for her on the small mattress.

"Remember," she squished next to him leaning her back against his bed frame. "This is a work in progress."

"I won't judge you too harshly" he replied, watching her open the journal that lay on her lap.

"Long ago when she was young, she believed that what she saw in her dreams could be a vision of what was to come. It was only now she understood that it was just an amalgamation of-"

"A what?" He interrupted.

"An amalgamation" she repeated. "Do you not know what an amalgamation means?"

"No, I do. Didn't think you did."

"Shut up. You're supposed to allow my words to lull you to sleep."

"Sorry, please continue"

"It was only now she understood that it was just an amalgamation of all her childhood aspirations, fears, and perhaps a little  too much whiskey. With this knowledge she found herself yearning for-"

By this point, Tommy had closed his eyes and was half-listening to the words his sister read from her journal. It wasn't half bad what she wrote. He reckoned by the time she was his age she'd actually make something of herself all with those stories in her head. Perhaps make a career out of it, possibly even get out of Small Heath. It was to be the start of a new decade, a new time, who knows what would happen? When he finally made it back from France, her face was the first face that caught his attention on the station platform. It shocked him. No more was the little girl he would read stories to, but in her place stood a smiling young woman. She had changed so much during the time he was gone.

Come to think of it, they'd all changed. Arthur was head of the family, in charge of the business, and had done a decent job of it. But that was before France, he was different now. He quickly noticed the change in his brother and how he couldn't think straight anymore. Arthur's personality became more explosive, as well as violent. John, well he had become more reckless, especially after a few drinks got into him, and since Martha's passing the drinking had only increased. 

As for him, well he was the one who had changed the most. He used to be carefree, joke and laugh, but now he was more solemn and even more protective of his family. Constantly worrying about how Arthur couldn't handle the business anymore, how John couldn't be alone anymore, and him? Well, he couldn't stand to see his family scrape and scrounge in the slums of Small Heath in order to survive any longer. No, not anymore. New copper sniffing about or not. No matter what Polly said, Tommy saw an opportunity with these guns. He wasn't about to turn it down. He just had to play it smart. As Maggie continued her reading, Tommy could feel himself slowly begin to drift out of consciousness and into a dreamless sleep.

[vampiretickles]

plssss make a renga t-word fic! perhaps langa being the lee and gets revenge on reki after some wake up/out of bed morning tickles eee if you don't want to it's okay but it's a little request I had lol

This is a very good request!! I don’t have much experience writing fics, and this took a lot longer than I thought, but please enjoy!!

Pairing: Reki/Langa

Words: 1125 words.

The noise of wheels against the footpath echoed through the empty street. Red hair flowed through the wind, and the early morning sun smeared across Reki’s face, like watercolour to paper. 

He stopped at Langa’s place, catching his skateboard in his hand.

Reki knocked on the door, fidgeting, until it opened.

“Hello, Reki, what brings you here so early?”

“Good morning, Ms Hasegawa, I just wanted to hang out with Langa, he around?”

“Oh, no. He probably won’t be up for another hour, at least. He sleeps in quite a lot. You are welcome to come in though, could I make you something to eat?”

Reki stepped inside, of course Langa would be sleeping in, he falls asleep at every opportunity he gets in 3 seconds flat.

“No thanks, I can go wake him up”, Reki smiled, and ran to Langas room.

Reki opened the door without knocking, and waltzed in to see Langa, sprawled across his bed, sheets a mess, snoring. 

Reki choked up a laugh, and took a photo of his close, sleepy friend.

“Heeeeyyyyy”

Langa only slightly shifted.

“Heyyy Langa. Time to wake up!!”

Still nothing.

Reki sat down at the side of his bed, simply thinking about how cute Langa was, made him blush. He saw Langa’s exposed side and tummy, which he also thought was cute, and decided the best way to wake Langa up.

Reki gently started wiggling his fingers against Langa’s side, eliciting groans, and what could almost be considered giggles, from a still sleeping Langa. Reki lit up at this, and started softly scribbling both sets of fingers everywhere on Langa’s tummy and sides.

Very quickly, Langa started to giggle frantically, and opened an eye, to see Reki, smiling wide and blushing hard, towering over him.

“MORNING SUNSHINE!”

“Gohohohod mohohohornihihing ehehahah”

“I can’t believe I came all the way over here, only for you to still be asleep!”

At this point, Langa was laughing too hard to say anything, and as Reki started wandering to Langa’s ribs, and underarms, an avalanche of laughter poured out of him.

“Whahahaha-?”

Reki only smiled harder at Langa.

Langa’s laugh was goofy and bright, and made reki’s heart warm.

He wriggled his fingers under Langa’s arms, scratching and scribbling all over them.

Langa screamed.

He was wriggling around, and laughing like an adorable sk8ing maniac, Reki was looking down at him, as if seeing true beauty for the first time.

“AHAHAHA REHEHEKIHI WHUHUHYHYYYY??”

“Hmm I dunno, because you’re so cute? And a sleepy head?

Langa couldn’t argue about either of these things, one, because he was laughing his head off, and two, because they were true.

Langa kicked his legs around and flailed, making the fatal mistake of shoving his foot right on Reki’s lap.

Reki immediately stopped his assault on Langa’s armpits and ribs and started fluttering his fingers all over Langa’s soles, and underneath his toes.

Langa started cackling, his head fell back, and tears started streaming down his eyes.

Reki started laughing along with him, he wondered if Langa was enjoying this as much as he was. 

At this point, Langa was curled into a ball, and Reki kept switching Between Langa’s thighs, feet, and tummy, scribbling and squeezing anywhere he could.

“PLEHEHEHAHAHSHEHHEHE AHAHAHAHAHAA STAHAHAHA”

Reki, realising that Langa has probably had enough, decided to finish up his attack… “in just a moment, Langa.”

Reki bent down to Langa’s slim and soft tummy, his hair already tickling him unbearably, and dragged his lips softly down to his bellybutton.

‘PBFFT’

Langa absolutely erupted in laughter. Bright and happy belly laughter poured out of his pretty, smiling mouth.

“Pleehehahahse, I cahahant tahahake it anymohohorehehehahahaha”, Langa started shoving weakly at Reki’s face, but only let up when Langa snorted.

Reki looked up at Langa’s blushing, laughing, gorgeous face. Wow.

Langa was cupping Reki’s soft, smiling face, and pulled him into a soft kiss.

“Ahh, I uh, Langa I. You.. Pretty. Holy shit.”

Reki fell into Langa’s arms, and laughed.

Their faces were both glowing like fire, the sun gleaming through the window. 

“Hey, Reki?”

“Y-yes Langa?”

“I like it when you tickle me.”

They stared at each other for a moment;

“But you’re still not gonna get away with that.”

Langa pounced on the redhead, grabbing his wrists and holding them above his head with one hand, and using the other to dig right into his sides. 

Reki didn’t bother to hold back, and burst into happy giggles. 

“AhHahaheheheh is thihihis rehehealyhy nehececahahary?” 

“Of course. It’s only fair. And your smile is wonderful.”

Reki only blushed more at that comment.

Langa tickled all over his sides and tummy, but realising it wasn’t as affective, moved to kneading his thighs, and scribbling against the underside of his knees.

‘“NAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAI.”

Aside from the fact that Reki almost kicked Langa in the face, he was also making every sound under the sun, all of which, Langa thought was music to his ears.

Langa made his way from tickling his legs, to his feet. At this point, Langa was no longer holding onto Reki’s wrists, and he was flailing around helplessly.

“AHAHAHA LAHAHAHANGAAHA GYAHAHAHA”

Lazy fingers scribbled all over Reki’s feet, and his snorts, wheezing, and bright cackles only intensified more. 

Reki’s laughter started to go silent, and his throat hoarse. 

Langa crawled the way back up to where Reki’s face was. Tickling him all over, pinching his sides, quickly digging into his hips, poking his tummy, and clawing at his ribs, and even giving small kisses to his collarbones, making him giggle and snort like a madman. He was wriggling around, trying to avoid Langa’s ever so fast hands, until their eyes met again. 

He planted another kiss on Reki’s forehead, but this time, Reki kissed back.

Their lips hit each other, cushioned by the other ones lips, their faces squished together.

Reki wiggled his fingers on Langa’s ribs, making him giggle into the smooch.

“That was almost as fun as skating,” Reki tilted his head and chuckled. 

“You like it Reki, don’t you?

“well, laughing is fun, isn’t it? As well as stuff like this, or hugging, especially when they’re being done by the hands of someone you love.”

Langa was speechless, but smiled. "I love you too."

“Waddaya say I let you get changed, and we’ll head right over to the skate park.”

As the two boyfriends descended down the stairs, both clearly looking brighter, and more awake.

“UUhh, I heard a lot of noise up there, honey. What was going on up there.?

“Oh, don’t worry mu-”

“Tickling each other to death. Cmon Langa lets go, I wanna show you something cool I did with my board.”

With that, they were off, out the door, skating together, smiling, and laughing.

[melisusthewee]

WIP Wednesday

Looks like it’s my turn this week lol.  Tagged by @samuraisaucefrites​.  I know it’s kind of silly to post WIPs when I’m not yet archiving completed pieces, but I’ve decided to start sharing my writings on this platform this week (probably will post fics/drabbles every Friday), but it’s the kick I needed to keep working.

I have about 3 ongoing WIP projects, so it was difficult which one to pull from, but I decided to snatch a piece from a comedy drabble I started writing inspired by a series of very unfortunate cutscene events in my DAI play through.

He couldn’t help himself though.  He laughed - partly from how silly the whole thing was, but also because it was now his turn to feel alarmed as Cassandra went on about a gallant knight who would sweep her off her feet, flowers, candlelit dinner, and all sorts of other things that Quinn very much was not.  He put his feet on tables, smoked like a chimney, and wasn’t particularly discreet about his dalliances.  Cassandra knew this.  She made faces at him about it often enough about the things he got up to.

And then, it seemed, her common sense came back to her.  Her expression grew stern and Quinn found himself on the receiving end of one of her glares while she declared that she in fact did not want any such things from him and walked away.

He should have walked away in that moment and forgotten the whole thing.  But he was too much of a fool to do anything but stand there, awkwardly pondering what in Andraste’s name had just happened and why did he have this sinking feeling of… was it disappointment?  Impossible!  Cassandra was clearly complicated and Quinn did not do complicated so it was better to forget it and move on.  Which he very much would have, had the door next to him not suddenly been thrown open and Cassandra come marching right back towards him, with a fearfully determined look and a challenge on her lips.

And so Quinn had found himself sitting moodily by a window in the castle library, puffing aggressively on his pipe and cursing himself for - as he described it - catching feelings.

She had given him a list of all things.  A list!  Well, not literally, but Quinn had found himself making mental notes while she had gone on about all the things she loved and wanted and he had tried very hard not to blush because she looked so earnest and had gotten so close to him he was certain he could feel her breath and—

Quinn put his head in his hands and groaned.  This was not supposed to happen to him!  Nevermind being the Herald of Andraste, Quinn Trevelyan was not a man who did any of this nonsense.  And yet here he was, sitting with a quill and ink and having written down, scratched out, and written down again a list of things he thought Cassandra might want.

Maker, what type of flowers did she even like?!  What was considered good poetry these days?!  How many candles were too many!?!

He was getting nowhere and every groan or frustrated sigh he uttered was beginning to earn him more and more unpleasant looks from the rest of the library’s occupants.  He felt like telling off the next mage who gave him the stink eye because this was technically his library, but the fact that he was even here in the first place was already likely to start questionable gossip.  That the Inquisitor snapped at a mage while furiously writing what looked like the scribblings of a madman would cause him no end of trouble.

And so, gathering his things, Quinn retreated to the only place he knew he could agonize over the madness that had taken over him without judgment.  No one would bother him in his room - not if he locked the door, at least.

He hurried across the Great Hall, nearly colliding with a messenger who was attempting to get his attention.  Quinn uttered a hasty apology before realizing how unlike him that seemed and waved one of his slips of parchment in a manner that he hoped made it look like he was very busy with matters that were more important and made a point of slamming the antechamber door.

Tagging @cleverblackcat, @ronqueesha, and um... if anyone else is still writing/drawing, please let me know for future tags!  (And if you don’t want me tagging you, please do let me know too!)

[taste-thewaste]

Trick-or-treating (Madderton fic)

A lovely anon prompted me with halloween prompt #15, “Dad!AU (take the kids trick-or-treating, etc”, with Richard specifically in mind. Thank you! This is long as hell, ~1800 words, and so fluffy. Tbh I never pictured myself writing the boys as Dads, but this was really fun and I kind of loved doing it lol, so if you like it I’d be totally willing to do it again. Thanks for reading!

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

The text from Taron came through at 2:45, while Richard was in the middle of a meeting and trying to stop his mind from wandering to what he wanted to eat. 

Gonna be a long day, love. Can you get the kids ready tonight on your own? I’ll be home before you leave, promise.

I don’t know what they’re supposed to look like, T. That was all you.

It’s foolproof, Dickie, I promise. Costume on, a little glitter on her cheeks and she’s good to go. Even easier with Jude. Stick him in the pumpkin costume and zip it up. What are you, afraid? ;) 

Not afraid, just don’t want to screw it up. I’ve got it, no problem...we’ll see you tonight, love. 

You could never screw anything up. Love you. x

Richard smiled a little. Taron was making it sound much less complicated than he knew it would be, and trying to give Richard a boost of confidence. He knew that whatever T had going on at work, it had to be huge, because he would never miss an opportunity to get Zoey and Jude ready to go trick-or-treating. 

He had always assumed that Taron would be a Christmas kind of guy. The lights, the snow, the presents, it had Taron written all over it. So Richard was shocked to find out along the way that Taron liked Christmas just fine, but he loved Halloween. 

Before the kids, it had been all about spider webs and fake witches, apple cider all month long and couples costumes that made Richard die a little inside. Halloween was when Taron could be as outlandish as he wanted, and he always dragged Richard along for the ride, introverted as he was. 

After the kids were born, he focused most of his Halloween energy on them, finding their costumes, perfecting them, taking them all to every Halloween-themed event he could find throughout the month of October. It was darling, really, and it made Richard love him that much more. 

And it made him nervous to try to get their kids ready for that evening. 

He supposed Taron was right, Jude’s costume was self-explanatory. Jude was almost two, and stubborn, and had insisted on picking out his own costume, something that drove Taron nuts. He’d picked out the simplest costume on the rack, a smiling round pumpkin costume that required no makeup, glitter or additional wiring. Just a zipper. Richard had watched Taron’s face fall when Jude had insisted on the pumpkin. 

“Don’t you want something like this?” Taron had asked, holding up a pirate costume. Richard had been able to see the cogs twisting in his mind, figuring out some way to turn it into an intricately designed zombie pirate or something. 

“No, this!” Jude had been emphatic. Taron had sighed with resign.

Zoey, on the other hand, was four, dramatic, and very into fairies. Richard had watched for weeks as the two of them had bent their heads together, designing the perfect fairy costume down to the last detail. They’d then spent the better part of a week deciding what kind of makeup would go best with her outfit, trying different shades and glitter. They’d only just declared everything perfect the weekend prior, and as Richard remembered the grin on both his daughter’s face and his husband’s, he was terrified that he’d mess it up.

Still, he had to try. 

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

When Richard came home, the nanny smiled at him and dumped Jude into his arms. “Zoey’s coloring in the playroom. They’ve both had dinner. Have fun tonight!” He nodded at her as she left, and looked down at his son, who had snuggled into him instinctively, and headed into the playroom. 

Zoey was parked at their coloring table, scribbling ferociously on a pad of paper. Her dark brown curls tumbled down to her shoulders, and he marveled at the light in her blue eyes. Their night would be chaotic, he knew: he had to pull a miracle out of his arse in the next twenty minutes with regards to Zoey’s costume; Taron was likely to come home in the next hour like a madman and start critiquing everything he’d done; by 7:45 his children would both be full of sugar and far, far from their normal bedtime. Yes, he knew their night would be chaotic, but for the moment, he could watch his daughter color, hold his son, and soak up the miracle that was his life. 

He kissed the crown of Jude’s head, into the same soft brown fluff that belonged to Taron when he let his hair grow out, and rocked him back and forth. Zoey looked up and saw him there, and before he knew it, she was crashing into his legs with a hug. 

“Daddy!” 

“Hiya, princess,” he said, setting Jude down so he could briefly gather both of his children into his arms. “Did you have a good day?” 

“Yes, we--”

Jude stepped in front of his sister and stared deep into Richard’s eyes. “Candy.” 

Richard laughed and Zoey tossed him a glare. “Yes, buddy, we’re going to get candy tonight, I promise.” 

“Candy now, Daddy,” Jude said, a serious look on his face. 

“Soon. First we have to get you two ready!” Richard said brightly, standing up. 

“We have to wait for Daddy,” Zoey said. “He has to do my makeup.” 

Richard bit his lip slightly and looked at his daughter. “He has to work a little late tonight, angel, so I’m going to get you ready, but he’ll be here before we go trick-or-treating, I promise.” 

Zoey’s jaw dropped. “You can’t do it! You don’t know what to do!” 

“I can do it, honey, I promise.” 

Zoey sighed dramatically, and in the back of Richard’s mind he feared for her teenage years, not for the first time. 

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

“No, Daddy, what are you doing?” 

Richard sighed. Well, Taron had been right about one thing: getting Jude ready was a cinch. His son was running around the living room, bouncing off the walls in his pumpkin costume, screaming in the distance about candy. He had no concept of his increased circumference, and had so far knocked over (and broken) an ashtray and a vase. It didn’t matter to Richard, though; he was ready to go. He’d stuck the kid in, zipped him up, and sent him on his way. 

Zoey, however, had been testing him since the moment they’d started getting ready. He’d gotten a run in two pairs of shimmery green tights, and put her skirt on backwards. He’d cursed Taron over and over again as he’d struggled to wrestle his daughter into the costume, all while she wailed like a wet cat when he did anything wrong. The costume had 12,000 pieces, it seemed like, which would have been all well and good if Taron had been putting her into it, as he’d originally planned. The skirt was made of dark green tulle and the bodice was a lighter green. It had the most ornate and intricate flower crown that Richard could remember seeing (which he’d jammed onto her head backwards, by the way) and completely impractical ballet slippers. 

She was darling, his girl, but he was out of his element. 

He was now holding the makeup pallet she’d shoved into his hands, his fingers pinched tightly around the eyeshadow brush as he tried to smear the right color onto her eyelids. It was dark, and heavy, and she looked like a tiny clown. He’d tried to put the glitter on subtly as she’d instructed him- “Just a little, Daddy, no, not that much!”-and failed miserably. He’d put far too much blush on her cheeks. 

“I...I think that’s it,” he said nervously, and she pranced over to the mirror with a smile on her face. He watched as it dropped off, however, when she looked at herself. 

“I know, angel, I’m sorry, I tried my best,” he said earnestly. They were interrupted by the sound of the front door slamming, and Zoey raced off. Richard followed sheepishly. 

“Oh, my days, would you look at you!” he heard Taron say. Richard stood in the doorway and watched, Zoey gathered up in Taron’s arms. He couldn’t help but smile. 

“Daddy did my makeup and he didn’t do it right!” she said. 

“Oh, he certainly...tried, though, didn’t he? It’s a look, eh?” Taron kissed her cheek, then looked up and smiled at Richard, who ambled over. “You’ve got to blend the eyeshadow, love, or else she just looks like a...well, like this,” Taron said, setting Zoey back on the floor.  

“I have no idea what that means, and no desire to. You’re a bloody saidst for forcing me to do this. Hello,” he said, kissing him briefly. 

“I know, I’m sorry,” Taron said, the sheepish smile that Richard couldn’t resist playing on his lips. “And would you look at this! We’ve got a little pumpkin destroying the living room!” Taron said, scooping up Jude and kissing him all over his face. 

“Alright, let’s go!” Richard said, gathering up the bags they’d bought for the kids to hold their loot in. 

“Candy!” Jude yelled, holding tightly onto Taron’s hand, Zoey onto Richard’s as they made their way out the door.

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

By the time they’d gotten the kids home, gotten them out of their costumes and into pajamas, wiped the clown makeup from Zoey’s face, and wrestled two sugar-laced children into their beds a hundred times, both Taron and Richard were beat. Richard padded into their bedroom where Taron was laying in bed, wearing nothing but his boxers and scrolling through his phone. 

“I know you love this holiday, but by God I’m glad it only comes once a year,” Richard said, throwing himself into bed beside Taron and curling up next to him. “What are ya looking at?” 

Taron started laughing, giggles coming from his belly as he stared at his phone. “Look at her!” he said, turning his phone to Richard and showing him one of the many photos he’d taken of Jude and Zoey that evening. Her blush practically glowed in the dark. 

“Hey!” Richard said, fake-annoyed. “You let me go in blind, love, I had no idea what to do.” 

“I know, I know. You did a wonderful job.” Taron kissed Richard, sliding his hand around the back of Richard’s neck and pressing his forehead to his. “You’re amazing.”

Richard sighed contentedly, burrowing closer to Taron, soaking in his body heat. “Listen. I love you, I love our kids, I love this life more than anything.”

“Mmm,” Taron said sleepily, closing his eyes. 

“But I swear, if you ever leave me in charge of Halloween again, I’m out of here,” Richard said, a teasing grin on his face as he joined Taron in closing his eyes.

[stories-mostly]

Stark's Bug

Tony Stark x son!reader

=Masterlist=

And we're back baby. Sorry for the long wait but it had to be done. I was stressed to the brim lol. Anyway this chapter is a little cute and domestic cutouts of what Tony has to deal with every day lol. Happy Pride and have fun reading.

Warnings: zero to none

Words: 2079

Chapter 16

After the trip everything, and everyone, was busy. Happy had taken a week long vacation. Pepper and Natalie were having to call and answer calls from all kinds of government people. And Tony was in his lab researching about the dude who attacked him. Ivan something something if you remember correctly.

The news weren't above it either.

What was worse for you though was the stress hanging in the air. It seemed like nobody would be happy about you interrupting their work. But you also didn't know what to do with yourself. So you sat there on the ground looking off into space thinking about anything and nothing at the same time.

Then you decided to just walk around the house for a bit. Maybe you'll find something to do. As you turned the corner you saw a familiar and loved face appear not far away.

"UNCLE RHODEY!" You screeched and jumped into his arms.

"Hey there, champ. What's new?"

"Everybody is suuuuper busy and boring right now," you complained.

"Well, yeah. The attack yesterday was pretty shocking for a lot of people."

You shrugged and were put back onto the ground.

"I guess. What are you doing here?"

"I have to have a word with your dad about what happened."

"Ugh, you too?" You groaned and threw your head back.

"Yeah. Many important people are mad about what happened. They think Tony can't protect them so they want to take the suits away."

"Like the government?"

"Yes and the military and so on."

"But you're in the military?" You questioned as you were walking into the living room.

"Don't worry. I'm trying to protect him." He smiled at you and asked the room where your dad was right now.

You followed behind him but he turned around and stopped you.

"Sorry, bud. But I'm gonna have to talk with him alone, okay?"

"Why!?" You crossed your arms.

"Because I'll say some choice words you aren't allowed to use yet."

You huffed and sat down on the couch still pouting. You were allowed to go anywhere you want! This was your house!

Still angry your stomach growled loudly. So you left for the kitchen, took some food and sulked off into your room.

The next morning you woke up to a quiet and empty house. Which got you into a chipper mood.

For Tony Stark it was time to let off some off that pent up energy from sitting in the lab all day and night since he got back.

But inside the gym awaited a peculiar scene. There were you, pushing weights with all your might onto a mat layed out on the floor.

"Hey Buddy, what are you doing?" He asked both curious and amused.

You turned away from the task at hand to explain.

"I want to test how much I can lift!"

"With your hands or force?"

"The force!"

"Okay. Don't hurt yourself, alright?"

"I won't" and with that you turned back around to the task at hand. Tony watched you after changing into his gym clothes. You were so focused on scribbling into your notebook that you didn't know he was watching.

He looked on as you picked up one after another weight, putting them down inbetween to write something. He cheered you on inwardly as you struggled to lift another one and add it to the ones already floating about in the room. You added some more until it all finally came tumbling down with a loud thud that made the floor vibrate. Quickly moving to your notebook you wrote down the final amount you had lifted.

"Look how much I can lift, daddy!" You ran up to him holding up your little notebook proudly.

Tony grabbed it to stop it from moving and his eyes almost fell out of his head as he read the number with three lines under it.

"212lbs!? Wow, that's a lot," he exclaimed engulfing you in a big hug.

"That's more than 4 times my weight!" You talked on and showed him the math you had done in your book.

"No way. Wow." He paused thinking about all the documentaries on animals he had watched that talked about this kind of thing.

"That's just like an eagle!" He finally said remembering the documentary he watched with you just recently.

You frowned but shrugged. You'll take that.

"I guess your superhero name should be Eagle from now on." He joked but you shook your head.

"There is already someone named Eagle in Captain Magics team. I can't steal his name." You said matter of factly and walked off to begin cleaning up after yourself.

Meanwhile Tony wondered where Happy was for their sparring match today.

He pulled out his phone to call but then something made an elevator sound in his brain. Happy was on vacation for the next two weeks so... yeah.

He totally hadn't forgotten about that at all. Instead of dwelling on it he turned to you and helped to put away the weights.

"Iron man I need your help!" Tony jumped at the sudden appearance of his son Captain Storm behind him.

"What? Oh, what is it Captain Storm?" He asked in a serious tone.

"The evil Madman is trying to take over Brickville and I need your help defeating him and his evil goons!" You explained in a lower voice than usual, which he found adorable.

"Oh no that's terrible! How can I help?"

"We need to find his headquarters and destroy him once and for all!"

"Let's go then. We can't waste any time!" He jumped up and put on his helmet before sneaking away behind his you.

The city was a mess and located in the living room. Brickvilles Bricks were all over the place and half the city had been ravaged. No one who resisted had been left alive. As Captain Storm explained.

Nearing the headquarters Cap instructed Iron man to quieten down so they wouldn't be discovered by the very vigilant guards hired by Madman.

He had the entire city under his brutal paw.

Evading the goons outside both heroes got inside the headquarter undetected.

"We have to find Madmans office. Follow me!" Captain Storm walked forward leading the taller hero through the corridors towards what was discovered to be Madmans office just a few minutes prior.

"Stop," Storm said holding out a hand behind him before turning around. "Look, there's guards."

"That must be it then. How do you propose we get inside?"

"I sneak around to the other side and on three we take them down together."

Iron man nodded in agreement and the plan unfolded as said.

Captain Storm snuck around to the other guard further away from Iron man. He held up three fingers and lowered them one at the time indicating the countdown.

Once the last finger went down both heroes took the guards down quickly  and left their bodies in the same spot they had been standing.

Bursting through the door there he was. Madman. Sitting on his office chair and looking as though he had awaited their arrival.

"Ah. Captain Storm and Iron man what a pleasure," spoke the Bear.

"Shut up stupid! We're not here to talk. Leave the city alone and I wont punch you in the face." The Captain said. Very aggressively. Iron man was sort of taken back.

"Yeah. You heard the man Madman." He supported non the less.

Madman said no and with that Storm tackled him out of his chair and started throwing punches.

"Leave. The. City. Alone."

You really beat the crap out of that Bear.

In the end Iron man dragged Madman out of his hideout and held him in place as Storm told the citizens that they were now safe and left Madman in the hands of the public.

"Good work Stormy. I will go now I hope you can handle the cleaning up?"

Captain Storm nodded dutifully and began cleaning. First dragging the stuffed supervillain by his blanket cape into his room while several Lego houses followed.

Tony Stark always thought of himself as a rather messy and unorganized person. But he didn't think he was this unorganized. After you had nagged him about being hungry he went into the kitchen to see what was available.

Nothing apparently. Nothing for him rather. You had spotted something that peaked your interest. A full bag of frozen peas.

"What about this?" You asked holding out the peas infront of you.

"What about it?"

"Can I have it?"

"The peas?"

You nodded.

Tony frowned. This wasnt what he imagined his son wanted for dinner.

"You want a plate of...peas?"

"Yes."

"With what?"

"Just peas."

"Are you sure?" Again you nodded this time more insistent.

What the hell. What kind of child wants peas for dinner.

"But these won't fill you up."

"Not if I eat lots."

The older Stark sighed and went on to prepare you a plate of pure peas. Just peas and nothing but peas. It felt wrong to put peas in a pot all by themselves. And it felt even worse putting all of them in an empty bowl again all by themselves.

He placed the bowl of peas infront of you and gave you a spoon. You, being the semi independent little man you are, went and got yourself a fork. Meanwhile your poor father didn't understand any of the actions you were currently taking. He wondered if he ever confused his parents like you were currently doing to him.

But you seemed to be delighted by the food. Kicking your legs back and forth while chewing the peas.

Tony opted to bite into his apple and keep his mouth shut.

In the end you ate two and a half bowls of peas and was satisfied with your meal.

Pressing down random keys on the piano you were slowly getting frustrated with the bad tunes that came out of it. Nothing even resembling the melodies your father could produce.

Said man walked in just as you were dragging your fingers over the keys angrily. He was planning on telling you to get ready for bed but seeing you sitting there, trying your darnest to produce music warmed his heart with fondness.

"Playing the piano, Bug? What song?" He teased and sat down next to you.

You glared at him.

"Oh if looks could kill," He chuckled and pressed down on one of the keys.

"Want me to teach you?"

You eyes lit up. "Yes! Can you, please?!"

"Alright, come here!" He patted the spot right next to him and you slid closer. He took your smaller hands and placed them where you should press, adjusting each finger that was needed.

"What song is it?"

"I think you'll know once we play it," you weren't really satisfied with that answer.

He placed his own hands right over yours and pulled you on his lap rather than reaching around you awkwardly.

Tony pressed down and the first two notes rung through the quiet room. You groaned.

"What?"

"Thats a childs song!" You exclaimed offended.

"Yeah and what are you?"

"Too old for Twinkle Twinkle little star."

Tony laughed a little. "Bug. This is one of the easiest things to play as a beginner. You don't start with the hardest thing first," he explained and played on with your hands still being guided along.

"Twinkle twinkle little Star. How I wonder what you are. Up above the world so high. Like a diamond in the sky. Twinkle twinkle little Star. How I wonder what you are." Tony sang along teasingly.

"This song is stupid." You pouted.

"You rather have me sing the ABC's alongside it?" He poked you side and you moved away.

"Come on this was composed by Mozart. So I don't think it's all that stupid. Come on let's play some more,"

"Only if you play the Star Wars song!" You grinned up at him.

"Okay? I'll see what I can do," he said and placed you back onto his lap.

"This time you sing along too. Make sure I'm doing it right," he put your hands back in position and you nodded dutifully.

At first you just mumbled the words but your dad pushed you a slight bit and joined in.

You grinned and sang the last lyrics together. Giggling you pressed the last keys on your own.

"Great!" Tony praised and placed his own hands over different keys.

"What Star Wars song would the gentleman like to hear?"

"The one that goes: dun dun dun duhn dahdan duhn dahdan," you tried to describe it to the best of your abilities.

Tony nodded and thought for a second before pressing down on the first few notes of The Imperial March. You smiled brightly. He missed a few notes but that didn't bother you too much. It was sensational and you liked having your own musician in the house.

You clapped when he finished. "Whoooo. This was great!"

"Well, thank you kindly. But now is really time for bed,"

He shooed you along and into your bathroom and with that your day was over and another would soon arrive.

And then another, and another, and so on.

Tags: @shannonr2003 @art-estrange @nicholasbich @tater-thotties @tonystanktheirondad @gaylemonshark @emilaa2001 @kindahadeschild @actualcringetm

[istheresomebodywhocanimagine]

I’m sorry for bothering you with this, but can I have a ship for Queen and Bo Rhap? I’m a hetero girl and I look a lot like Hermione from the early HP films. I’m in mid 20s, but I look a lot younger and people ask me which grade I’m in lol. I’m a major introvert but don’t mind hanging with people, I just sometimes need my alone time. I also hate people prying into my private life and telling me what to do. Reading and writing are my greatest passions, but I’m reluctant to share my works. Polite.

HI HI HI hi hi. hi.

sorry this took 5 yrs im crazy busy working my ass off hehe

ships below the cut!!!

For Queen, I ship you with John Deacon!

Brian was my initial choice, but after I thought about it, I realized he might be a bit too nosy for your liking (as a fellow Cancer.... I know how he probably is. He has an insatiable need to KNOW EVERYTHING). He’s also not private unless it’s in relation to particular things, but John Deacon? 

He is he king of privacy. You tell him a secret, and he’ll take it to his grave. His proclivity towards confidentiality is what led you to becoming close friends with him in the first place.

You’d know each other through Brian, but hadn’t ever really got the chance to hang out with each other much. You weren’t at gatherings a lot, nor was he, and rarely did you ever manage to show up on the same nights. You preferred to stay at home most of the time.

One night, you were doing just that when you got a call. You were just putting on some tea, so you put a pause on what you were doing and headed over to your phone, yawning before answering. “Hello?”

“Is this Y/N?” a slightly familiar, yet not recognizable voice asked timidly. You could hear shouting in the background that sounded vaguely like Brian, and then his voice got closer as there was some shuffling and a quiet “Shove off, Bri.”

“Yes, this is Y/N,” you answered slowly, still trying to connect the dots as the man on the other end of the line gave a sigh of relief and mumbled something about the right number from the drunkard.

“This is John Deacon, we’ve met a few times at Brian’s.” Making a noise of affirmation, you let him continue as he let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m with Brian right now, he’s off his rocker drunk and says we’re near your place and he wants to crash on your couch. Is there any way I can tell if he’s not just word-vomiting?”

“Um, yeah,” you laughed softly, crossing your arms as you heard Brian and John discuss something for a second, Brian clearly slurring as he spoke. “Where are you at right now?”

John described the street and named the pub, which was a few blocks from your place, so you described the walk to your flat as best as you could before wishing him luck and hanging up. 

And sure enough, he navigated his way to your flat, showing up about 15 minutes later with a clearly-sloshed Brian May in tow.

“Y/N, this is John!” he cheered as you opened the door, hugging your robe to yourself and laughing softly at the sight of his heavy-lidded, bloodshot eyes.

“I know, I just spoke to him on the phone, Bri. And we’ve met before anyways, remember?”

“Oh.” The tall man scratched his head for a moment before stretching and giving you a goofy smile. “Can we pleaaaase come in?”

You nodded and let the two of them in, heading for the kitchen and filling the kettle with a bit more water to make tea for all of you while John got Brian to the living room and somehow convinced him to sit on the couch instead of running around the flat like a madman. When Brian was drunk, his tendency to stick his nose in your business increased tenfold, which is why you usually didn’t let him stay over if he was going to be drinking.

“Tea?” you asked over the sound of Brian’s incessant babble, and John shushed him several times before managing to get him to answer the question. Then, he spoke up for the both of them, his voice plaintive and soft on your ears, a welcome contrast from Brian’s aggressive drunk rambling.

“That would be lovely, one sugar for me. Brian wants two sugars.”

“Three! What kind of establishment are you running here, Y/N?” Brian yelled, and John went through the process of shutting him up again as you laughed to yourself, going through the motions of making tea. You made sure to drop half an ice cube in Brian’s tea so he wouldn’t scald his mouth like he was bound to do, then made your way into the living room where Brian was arguing with John over some insignificant detail of a song.

“One sugar,” you repeated, sitting the tea in front of John, then you sat Brian’s in front of him and gave it one more stir before sitting back in your chair, blowing on the surface of your own tea. “Brian, I’m impressed you remembered my number. You usually can’t even remember what flat number I am.”

Tapping his head, Brian gave you a lazy smile before taking a sip of his tea and swallowing it quickly. “Got it all up here. Sometimes it just hides from me, sneaky bastards.”

You could see John’s shoulders shaking in silent laughter as he blew on his tea, and you grinned as you looked down to your own, sipping at it.

All three of you had a decent conversation as you sipped at your tea, Brian slowly but surely sobering, and by the time he excused himself to stumble to the bathroom, you were collecting all of your cups, heading to your kitchen to wash them while John said he’d go keep an eye on Brian.

Hearing nothing out of them for the time being, you washed and dried the mugs before putting them away, then turned to find John standing in the doorway, looking a bit sheepish.

In his hands, he had your journal, a simple little leather-bound thing that struck fear into your heart as he held it out to you. You took it from him, staring at him in disbelief, but he began to explain before you freaked out. 

“Brian found it on your bed when he went the wrong way after he went to the toilet. Was trying to read it but said the words were moving too fast. I grabbed it from him, didn’t look at anything. Promise.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding as you saw the look on his face was genuine, and you hid the journal in a cupboard before turning back to face him and giving him a small smile. “Brian would have buried his nose in that for hours if he’d found it sober. But thank you for respecting me and not reading it. I don’t think Brian understands how much it means to me.”

“He means well, but...” John trailed off, and you nodded to signal that you understood that Brian’s need to understand your emotions was just a part of him that would always be there. You’d known that when you became friends, and he usually never gave you too much of an issue about it.

It was intriguing, however, to see how much John went out of his way to stop Brian from intruding, and you pursed your lips for a moment before nodding to the living room. “You can have the couch. I’d imagine Brian’s passed out on my bed right now, so I’ll roll him off onto the floor and let him be sore in the morning as punishment.”

John smiled at the idea, shaking his head and retreating into the main area of the flat. “You can kick me out if you want. I can walk home, I just live over in Hammersmith.”

“Oh, nonsense. You can stay here, you’re mad if you think I’ll let you walk all the way to another borough.” Walking over to your linen closet, you pulled out a spare pillow and blanket, then turned and held it out for him. “Here. Make yourself at home.”

John accepted the blanket and pillow gently, smiling and thanking you shyly before going to put together a makeshift bed. While he did so, you took the opportunity to really get a good look at him, and you questioned why you’d never noticed he was so cute. When he was finally bedded, you nodded and wished him a good night, then went to go roll the probably dead-asleep guitarist off your bed.

After that night, you never told Brian he’d gotten ahold of your journal - John apparently never told him either, because he never brought it up again. You were very thankful that John kept his mouth shut, so you ventured out to get his number from Brian and invited him over for tea a few nights a week, which turned into more and more time spent with each other. 

Brian, of course, took credit for bringing you two together, so when John called him one night and asked him if he was crazy for wanting to ask you to be his girlfriend that night, Brian nearly lost his mind. He was so excited he almost showed up himself, but he knew better, so he left you two alone and let it still be a private affair.

John had invited you over to ask your opinion on some songs he’d written, which was a favorite of yours to do. He was always so nervous about his writing, which you found common ground in, and he always made sure he ran it by you before he even considered putting it on the table for official Queen usage.

Tonight, he was especially quiet as he scribbled on a crumpled piece of paper, his bass in his lap as he sat next to you on the couch. You were comfortable with John now - he was one of the few people that you could be around and not feel socially drained at the end. He was gentle, soft-spoken, but still knew how to have fun.

You broke out of your trance when you saw John finally hold out the piece of paper, setting it on your thigh and picking up his bass to pluck an easy rhythm tune. Picking up the paper, you began to scan the paper as he spoke softly. “Let me know what you think.”

You read the song all the way through, sincerely not realizing what you were reading until the end. It read like a love song, typical of John’s writing, except at the very end, you were stunned to find your name there, a bit bolder than the rest of the writing. It said your name, then one simple question - ‘Will you be my girl?’

Looking up in surprise, you saw his fingers freeze on the strings of his bass as he smiled sheepishly, chewing at the inside of his lip. “I know it’s a bit corny, but I figured this was the only way I could ask without tripping over my own feet.”

“My god, John,” you murmured, smiling at him and blushing deeply as you looked back down to the paper, biting your lip. You went quiet for a moment, then started to nod eagerly. “Of course I’ll be your girlfriend.”

“Oh, thank God,” he murmured as he let out a sigh of relief, setting his bass to the side and pulling you in for a tight hug. “I thought you’d be annoyed of me by now. Thought you weren’t going to say yes.”

Laughing softly, you buried your face in his shoulder and just enjoyed the hug for a moment, then pulled back slightly to give his cheek a gentle kiss. “I’d never get annoyed of you, John.”

“I could say the same for you.”

And for BoRhap, I ship you with Rami Malek!

No one better for you than the king of ‘how do social media?’ himself, Rami Malek! 

You two are literally two peas in a pod - you both value a level of confidentiality to your lives that would be difficult to attain with every other member of Borhap’s main four (I’m looking at you, homiesexual instagram post trio).

Rami is so off the grid and private that you literally didn’t even know about him at all until Ben, a childhood friend and now one of your neighbors down the hallway, introduced you two when you came over to use Ben’s dryer. Yours had quit, unfortunately, so you asked if you could use his dryer in exchange for pizza.

“Promise I’ll order the good stuff. Brick oven,” you pleaded, holding your laundry on your hip and balancing it there as you stood just inside your doorway, debating whether or not to just go plead in person.

You heard Ben sigh a bit before laughing at something and clearing his throat. “Well, I suppose. But there’s two of us here, so you’ve got to get a large pizza.”

“Frankie is not going to eat that much pizza. You’ll make his stomach hurt, Benjamin.” You opened your door and started down the hallway towards Ben’s flat, humming a bit.

“Frankie will have his designated slice. But I mean, like, someone else is here. Rami.” There was a silence as you tried to register the name, but it wasn’t ringing any bells. Slowing down to a stop in front of his door, you pursed your lips and briefly reconsidered. Did you really have the social stamina to meet another one of his wily friends tonight?

Looking down to your laundry, you sighed. Damn it. You really didn’t have a choice. Mustering up all your energy, you reluctantly knocked on the door.

“I don’t believe I know a Rami. Has he been there before? Is this one of the guys you keep posting on your Instagram?”

“No, no,” Ben chuckled, moving his phone to his other ear as he rose to answer the door for you. “Well, not exactly. I’ll explain.” The line cut dead, and then you stood up a bit straighter as Ben swung the door open, nodding towards the living room before letting you follow him in. “I don’t post him as much, but he’s one of the chaps I worked on Bohemian Rhapsody with. He missed London after filming, so I’m letting him stay here while he does some flat-shopping to find a place over here so he doesn’t keep stealing my cuddle time with Frankie.”

And sure enough, as you rounded the corner into his living room, you spotted the stranger seated on Ben’s couch, Frankie on his lap and a small, curious grin on his face as he met your gaze. “Rami, this is Y/N. Y/N, Rami. She and I grew up next door to each other and she beat me up all the time.”

“I did not!” you exclaimed, turning bright red as you already regretted coming over. “I beat you up that one time, and that was because you took my fucking toy barn that made the mooing sound when you opened it.”

“Ben, stealing a woman’s things? Shame on you,” the man he’d introduced as Rami tutting his tongue before smiling at you. “Y/N, right? Nice to meet you. Ben told me to beg for a supreme pizza. Said you’d probably get one if I asked for it.”

Looking at Ben, you found him to be avoiding your gaze and whistling innocently as he opened the closet doors that revealed his washing machine and dryer. “Well, I suppose I’ve got to get a supreme pizza now, don’t I?”

“Supreme? Sounds amazing, great idea, Rami!” Ben suddenly cut in, giving you an innocent grin as Rami laughed and shook his head. He had a cute laugh, one that started out low and led into a broad smile with a steady repeat of amused laughter.

So, you called in a supreme pizza and started to dry your laundry, the pizza arriving just around the time you went to put the second half of your laundry in and fold the other half. So, you had to leave your laundry be, grumbling something about it wrinkling as you headed for the counter to grab your wallet.

“Oh, I’ll fold it for you,” Ben suggested, sending you an eyebrow wiggle and receiving a gentle smack from Rami.

“That’s creepy. Frankie, sic ‘em!”

Frankie just stared up at Rami as he nodded towards Ben, and you gave Rami a thankful look before laughing a bit and going to get the pizza. When you returned, Rami was still giving Ben hell for being creepy, so you stayed quiet as you sat down the pizza in front of them, grabbing a few paper towels from the counter.

“I don’t understand why it’s being creepy, though, like I’ve grown up with her! It’s not like I haven’t seen her panties before!”

“That’s still private stuff, you weirdo! Jesus!” Rami laughed, thanking you when you handed him a paper towel and grabbing himself a piece of pizza. You did the same, sitting in the chair nearest Rami, and gave been a knowing look.

“He’s right, thank you, Rami. That’s my underwear, I don’t want you snooping about in it.”

Ben looked offended as he glanced between the two of you, his mouth hanging slightly open while he looked for the words to say. “I feel like I’m being attacked right now!”

“Sorry, not sorry,” you half-apologized, giving him a slightly guilty smile as you dug into your pizza, Rami snickering when Ben groaned at your underhanded apology.

After that meeting, you got to see Rami a few more times before he had to head back to the states. He kept in touch, and when he finally found a place in London, he found himself over at your place more often than Ben’s, due to the fact that you were both laidback and lowkey. Rami was much less wily than Ben’s other friends, which was great.

Sometimes, Ben just wanted to go out and party while you wanted to keep it relaxed and reserved. Though you were a bit younger than Ben and much younger than Rami, you still managed to match Rami’s personality more than anything. 

That led to the two of you becoming very comfortable around each other, which led to Rami finally asking you to be his girlfriend, which you 100% agreed to as long as he had to be the one to break the news to Ben. Rami conveniently forgot to do so, and when Gwilym found out a few days, he was ecstatic, texting the groupchat with the boys in congratulatory fashion.

And that irritated Ben more than anything. So, that night. you were reading and Rami was watching That 70′s Show at your place - you were unaware that Rami hadn’t told Ben, so you were confused when you heard your phone buzzing. Lifting your head up from Rami’s lap, you saw that Ben’s horrid selfie took up the screen, and you sighed before answering the phone, sitting up against Rami’s side while he paused the show.

“Hello?”

“So why am I like, the last person on Earth to know about you two? I mean, telling Gwilym before me? That’s a low blow, Y/N.” You looked at Rami, who could just hear the words enough to garner an idea of what was going on, and he gave you a sheepish grin that only made you roll your eyes. He hadn’t told him, that bastard. Putting it on speakerphone, you roped him into the call involuntarily and cleared your throat.

“Hey, hey, calm down, bud. I thought Rami had told you, I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to forget you or anything. Rami wants to say sorry.”

“Good, I’m about to go over to his flat and give him a good earful. I can’t believe you guys let Gwil know before me! He doesn’t even know your birthday!”

“What’s my birthday, Ben?” you asked curiously, wondering if he still remembered it as you stretched your legs out across Rami’s lap, smiling when he rested his hand on your thigh and kissed the top of your head. Leaning up, you gave his cheek a quick kiss as Ben replied. 

“Er... not important right now. What’s important is that I’m giving you both noogies for forgetting me!” Rami laughed at that, and Ben was quiet for a moment before speaking again, quieter this time. “Was that Rami?”

Rami chuckled before wrapping an arm around you and replying. “Yeah, hi, Ben. Sorry about not telling you, I was afraid you’d get mad at me for spending more time at her place than yours.”

“You-” Ben cut off, groaning exasperatedly before sighing. “You didn’t even put anything on Instagram about it! I wanted to comment first! Where are you two? I’m coming over.”

“Ben, not right now,” you groaned, desperately just wanting to have a night alone with Rami. “Can’t we just post something on Instagram and call it even?”

“I don’t know. Try it and see,” he said with a mock angry tone before hanging up, making Rami laugh a bit before grabbing his phone and unlocking it, then taking a picture of your legs splayed out across his lap while That 70′s was in the background. You silently commended him for not making it a selfie, and watched as he posted it with the caption ‘Life is too short to spend it with people who annoy you. For some reason, she’s still here anyways.’

“Oh, shut up, you do not annoy me,” you laughed as you watched him hit the post button, and he just laughed as he pulled you fully onto his lap, letting you settle between his legs before pressing play again.

And within seconds, his phone dinged with a notification, but it was from Joe instead of Ben. “Oh, he’s going to be so pissed,” Rami murmured as he read the excited comment from Joe, snickering to himself. And within another second, you saw a message notification from Ben pop up on his phone. 

Opening his Instagram DMs, Ben had sent Rami the original post with the simple message ‘i know you’re at her place. open the door :(’

Bursting out laughing, you got to your feet and started towards the door, Rami following you and standing behind you with a hand on your hip as you opened the door to find a pouting Ben. 

“I missed first comment. Post it again.”

[lightns881]

every time i see your name i always think of light yagami which is so funny bc now whenever i imagine you writing i always think you're furiously scribbling in a black notebook

i love how we get see how smart george is, and how much he's emotionally matured. there's a large contrast between his character in AL and Elysium. he's still impulsive and rash but isn't as doubtful of himself. he almost has this aura of confidence around him but not in the sense that he thinks he's better than everyone, but in more of a "i don't tolerate bullshit anymore" kind of way, it's very intriguing to read! also, he thinks so quick on his feet and he's gotten so good at manipulating and deceiving people, AL!george could never smh. smart and morally grey characters are the best characters change my mind. bonus points if they're OP as fuck. george could probably take over the world if he wanted to

ALSO I LOVE HOW WHENEVER GEORGE FEELS A RESURGENCE IN HIS POWER HE STARTS GRINNING i got so many chills while reading that bc the image of him hovering in the air with glowing white eyes while grinning like a madman seems so scary BUT ITS SO BADASS LIKE YES PLS UNLEASH YOUR POWER AND DESTROY EVERYTHING IN YOUR PATH

when george was in ranboo's head, he mentioned that his psyche kept telling him to "take... take... take..." but what does that mean? take his power? cuz last time i checked, george can't do that lmao (or can he??????)

doesn't quackity wear a necklace and not cuffs? or is that only for trials?

what's been your favorite part to write so far?

the direct parallels between george's powers being depicted as 'light' and 'glowing' as opposed to ranboo's powers being derived from darkness is so cool btw

OOH I HAVE A THEORY quackity mentioned that he has a whole group of friends, and i'm assuming that some of them are metas. SO, one of the members of that group will be jack manifold and he's gonna be an electromental bc his old name used to be thunder1408 and thunder is associated with lightning (lightning = electricity) this sounds kinda dumb now that i've typed it out but it's a theory nonetheless

do you have anyone who betas your fics? bc if you dont i will be amazed bc i have yet to see a single grammatical error in this work

also george being able to lift two boulders that are 1,000+ lbs each???? at the same time????? while actively being subdued and nearly dying???????? my boy has gotten so strong and i'm so proud of him for it. he could barely even lift a 10-pound rock and now HE CAN LIFT THOUSANDS OF POUNDS AND FLY AND HOLT SHIT THATS SO COOL POP OFF KING

i am CONVINCED that george's pretty privilege was the whole reason why dr. mitchell lowered the power of his cuffs bc ain't no way she gon' do that for anyone else, no matter sad their sob story is. even quackity was surprised.

also how long is george's hair? it's been like two years since he's gotten a haircut. and his hair grows pretty fast irl, so i'm just imagining him having majestic, wavy, brown hair that goes down to like the middle of his back. DOES HE HAVE A BEARD WHAT IF HE LOOKS LIKE GANDALF

i have a headcanon that all EM types have like a distinct trait that makes them stand out from each other. for example: each elemental has an emblem of their element marked onto their body; geomentals who specialize in plant manipulation (niki and karl) have green fingertips, while pyromentals have black fingertips from ash; aeromentals are unusually light, even if they look really heavy; etc.

this is random but aeromentals can fly, right? that seems like a pretty obvious question lol but whenever i think of aeromentals i think of airbenders from a:tla and they can't fly, they can only glide. also, i dont think skeppy has ever been shown to fly, only create gusts of wind that make him jump really high.

i find it kind of ironic that agatha is conducting trials on george to actively find ways to incapacitate psychics, but as a result, they're indirectly training george to become even more powerful. ngl it kinda seems like they set themselves up lmao george was less of a threat when he was living at the AGE than when he was imprisoned in Elysium.

quackity's hilary clinton jokes are so funny, especially knowing that this is set like 100 years in the future, which means that quackity probably just learned abt her in some ancient history textbook and immediately took a liking towards her.

ALSO I SEE WHAT YOU DID THERE YOU SNEAKY BASTARD (/lh) WHEN QUACKITY TOLD GEORGE THAT THEY WERE "SHADOWTRAVELING OUT" hmm i wonder who else can teleport and call it 'shadowtravel' *cough* nico di angelo *cough*

is quackity able to only shift certain parts of himself? (NOT LIKE THAT) bc i'm wondering if he's ever tried to specifically alter his vocal cords and impersonate ppl or have irl autotune (i'm tryna make the quackity button happen if you couldnt tell lmao)

george has so many different powers and i CANNOT keep track of them, i just reread AL and i cannot believe how much i forgot. like george can see the future????? and can hypnotize ppl?????? sign me tf up

i am so stoked that we're getting so much qnf content. it's kind of refreshing to see george not have to worry so much abt his pining for dream and the somewhat awkward sexual tension they had. that's not to say i didn't like it (awkward but sappy romance ftw) but it's certainly a nice change. george had so many things on his plate during AL and the poor boy was still pining for dream during most of it. but now we get to see george just simply get to mess around with quackity and not have to worry abt any love troubles (for now). altho he's still got a shit ton of other things to worry abt.

i really just typed this whole thing in one sitting, didn't? oh well *shrugs*

anyway, have a wonderful day! sending good vibes your way :)

no because that's literally how I feel smts when I have an epiphany during my writing sprints haha

"I don't tolerate bullshit" is the best way to describe George in Elysium! he's had a lot of growth and I can't wait to see how his interactions with his old friends will look like later on :]

I lowkey need to add the tag BAMF!George to Elysium because that's basically George in a nutshell now

I don't know ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ can he take Ranboo's power?

Quackity wears a collar! if you're referring to why he said "yellow like mine" I literally have no idea seeing because he pointed at his collar when he said it lmaooo

so far, my favorite part to write has definitely been George's and Quackity's conversations!!! especially the "you're gonna put it in my ear?" conversation lol

good catch!!! I love contrasting EM abilities like that

that's actually a pretty cool theory! we'll just have to wait and find out ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

besides the occasional help I get from my irls on certain dialogue lines and when they listen to me endlessly talk to gather my thoughts, I am unfortunately carrying this story on my own, which is why it takes so long between updates

im so proud of him too! apart form the growth, he's really gotten so much more comfortable with his powers!

George's pretty priveledge getting him everything smh

lmao that's not something I've thought of, Elysium is still a facility so I imagine they do have someone to give the residents hair cuts and basic necessity things haha, but I do see his hair being like cc!George at his longest! though it'd be cool if he had long luxurious hair like Gandalf lol he'd look like a wizard

and that's such a cool headcanon!!! I haven't really thought of it but it does make a lot of sense for different EMs to have different little physical traits

aeromentals can't fly like just fly on their own, they can just control the wind and some of them are advanced enough to use it to fly for extended periods of time!

I agree, they really are just training him to be a powerbomb and then also telling him crucial info that he could use against them smh, but then again, idk if i believe Agatha would've helped him get out even if he had helped

the way that never ever crossed my mind haha I forget they're in the future sometimes, but you're right! now it's canon that Quackity likes to read history books lmao

AND HAHA I really hope the term shadowtraveling isn't copyrighted, but you caught me!

that would be a super cool power for Quackity to have! can't confirm for sure if he does, but we'll be seeing more of his powers in the future :))

Psychics are so OP smts I remember that anon who asked if they could become gods and it legitimately had me thinking like huh, could they??

I was worried that readers weren't gonna like the amount of time dnf has spent a part on screen, but it makes me so happy to see people enjoying these other non romantic relationships be developed! I just looove qnfs dynamic, and I can't wait until he meets George's old friends... it's gonna get real good!

thank you!!! it was so fun to read through this and you brought up some good points I hadn't even considered so thanks for making me think haha, these always help me see what people take notice of! sending good vibes right back!! <3

[8147]

reading hamlet for the first time (act 5: the finale)

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none of you told me it was going to be this painful . none of you.

a5s1

“Ophelia’s dead.” “Enter CLOWNS!”

Like im sure this has a different meaning in EMA but im gonna make fun of it because it’s fucking hilarious. (future (present? (now past once more (?))) antares coming back to say i did look at nfs and yeah theyre gravediggers)

“First Clown: What is he that builds stronger than either the mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter? Second Clown: The gallows-maker; for that frame outlives a thousand tenants.” damn not even just this one quote but these are some depressing clowns

hamlet and horatio!

okay there’s something about all of hamlet’s skull talk that makes me uneasy. like, not even the topic, just something in the words and how earnestly and (pardon my pun) gravely hamlet’s speaking about this. and it’s almost a mournful tune, too. it’s a huge difference from his “we’ll all be eaten by the same worms” speech to the point that it’s almost haunting.

“HAMLET: I will speak to this fellow.” C O N F R O N T

“HAMLET: I think it be thine, indeed; for thou liest in't.” (incomprehensible scribbling)

HAMLET, NOT IN ENGLAND: oh yeah lol he was sent to england huh u know why lmao

wait. did the. did the pirate situation get resolved. before act V.

I mean i think hamlet mentioned something about three years but the pirates are so fucking glossed over like what the fuck

“First Clown: 'Twill, a not be seen in him there; there the men are as mad as he.” HOLY SHIT ROAST THEM JFC

“HAMLET: Let me see. (Takes the skull)” THIS IS THE SKULL SCENE! I fucking KNEW it was bullshit that holding the skull was in the to be/not to be speech. I saw it being presented as such like once or twice while reading and I KNEW IT

hm okay so hamlet picks up this guys skull, of someone he used to know, and sure maybe i could ignore the “those lips i have kissed” but then he goes on to mention alexander the great and i mean come on

but jesus like i feel like im not doing justice to the stuff hamlet’s saying. just, the gravity of it all. Its kinda hitting home a bit hard bc like ive had a crippling fear of what happens after death and being forgotten etc since i was like in fourth grade and this is @ing that phobia

like, with that julius ceasar thing. “O that that earth which kept the world in awe / should patch a wall to expel the winter flaw,” it’s so strange. like, every fucking human who has lived, whether they be emperors, murderers, inventors, peasants, or philanthropists- as long as they weren’t blind, they’ve all looked at the same sky. like. It doesnt matter what the fuck you did or didn’t. It’s wild.

“First Priest: No more be done: We should profane the service of the dead To sing a requiem and such rest to her As to peace-parted souls.” hey i get that there are cultural taboos around suicide but like this guy’s a dick it isnt even clear if it was suicide, like, she was so fucking crazy she might not have even known she was, y’know, in a lake or w/e

laertes, dude, my guy. maybe jumping into a grave is cosmic foreshadowing for something you don’t want to happen to you. js.

“HAMLET: [Advancing] What is he whose grief Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow Conjures the wandering stars, and makes them stand Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I, Hamlet the Dane. (Leaps into the grave)” hamlet is NOT one to be out-extra’d (posting-antares here to say, wait, ‘whose phrase of sorrow conjures the stars? is this my aesthetic-speeches-summon-ghosts theory? probably not, but i havent mentioned it for a while)

“LAERTES: The devil take thy soul! (Grappling with him)” IN A FUCKING GRAVE. THEY ARE FIGHTING. IN A GRAVE.

all because hamlet doesn’t want to be out-extra’d. my god.

“QUEEN GERTRUDE: This is mere madness: And thus awhile the fit will work on him; Anon, as patient as the female dove, When that her golden couplets are disclosed, His silence will sit drooping.” Ah yes gertie just talk about the distraught and angry madman as if he isn’t there. that’ll diffuse the situation.

You know what? We still haven’t discussed the pirates.

a5s2

“HAMLET: So much for this, sir: now shall you see the other; You do remember all the circumstance?” If this isn’t gonna be about the pirates im gonna. scream.

“HAMLET: My fears forgetting manners, to unseal Their grand commission; where I found, Horatio,-- O royal knavery!--an exact command, Larded with many several sorts of reasons Importing Denmark's health and England's too, With, ho! such bugs and goblins in my life, That, on the supervise, no leisure bated, No, not to stay the grinding of the axe, My head should be struck off.” god, though. imagine that. being exiled to another country by the person who killed your father, only to find out that they were going to have you killed, anyways. that’s fucking terrifying. jesus christ.

Damn this idea that pretty handwriting is ~beneath~ nobles confuses me so fucking much. I got called haughty once just because my main handwriting is cursive. I mean, they were right, but their evidence was circumstantial at best.

“HAMLET: That, on the view and knowing of these contents, Without debatement further, more or less, He should the bearers put to sudden death, Not shriving-time allow'd.” Hamlet’s Revenge. 

but also, what the fuck, dude. two wrongs dont make a right.

damn i kinda lost myself while reading but it really doesn’t sound like hamlet’s insane anymore. Like he’s… tempered himself. he doesn’t feel insane, just solemn.

“OSRIC: Your lordship is right welcome back to Denmark. HAMLET: I humbly thank you, sir. Dost know this water-fly?” goddamn ROAST HIM HAMLET (also what a fucking mood)

Osric put on your fucking ha--

The wind is

The wind is northerly

“HAMLET: No, believe me, 'tis very cold; the wind is northerly.” I remember someone saying that this is important

Okay here: “HAMLET: I am but mad north-north-west: when the wind is southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw.”

oh no

Osric just wear ur fucking hat u doof

“OSRIC: Exceedingly, my lord; it is very sultry,--as 'twere,--I cannot tell how. But, my lord, his majesty bade me signify to you that he has laid a great wager on your head: sir, this is the matter,-- HAMLET: I beseech you, remember-- (HAMLET moves him to put on his hat)” excuse me a WAGER

but alas all hamlet cares about is osric’s fucking hat

“HAMLET: What's his weapon? OSRIC: Rapier and dagger. HAMLET: That's two of his weapons: but, well.” hamlet u sarcastic little shit i love you

I mean so is horatio. I love him too.

This stuff with the competition is. not gonna end well. not at well.

“HAMLET: I do not think so: since he went into France, I have been in continual practise: I shall win at the odds. But thou wouldst not think how ill all's here about my heart: but it is no matter.”

hamlet no. listen to your heart or whatever. jesus christ don’t do it.

“HORATIO: Nay, good my lord,--” HAMLET LISTEN TO HORATIO

Ohhh hamlet

okay reading what laertes said, you know what? i’m giving laertes one last chance. please do not prove me a fool, laertes. 

everything is giving me mad anxiety. e v e r y t h i n g.

claud’s speech is insanely sketchy

“KING CLAUDIUS: [Aside] It is the poison'd cup: it is too late.” One, so that’s why it was sketchy. Two, the POISONED CUP?

IT’S TOO LATE?

Gertie’s. Dead.

Shit, shit, shit

“LAERTES: [Aside] And yet 'tis almost 'gainst my conscience.” YES! SO PLEASE! STOP FIGHTING!

“LAERTES wounds HAMLET; then in scuffling, they change rapiers, and HAMLET wounds LAERTES.” Oh no oh no oh jeez eheu they’re hurting each other, shit, fuck,

“LAERTES: ...woodcock…”

“KING CLAUDIUS: She swounds to see them bleed. QUEEN GERTRUDE: No, no, the drink, the drink,--O my dear Hamlet,-- The drink, the drink! I am poison'd. (Dies)” one, i love how claud is desperatley trying to stick to the plan, its almost adorable in a childish sort of way. two, oh god. ohhh god. gertie. 

Oh no. 

this is the bloodbath. THIS IS THE BLOODBATH.

BODY COUNT: 1

“HAMLET: The point!--envenom'd too! Then, venom, to thy work. (Stabs KING CLAUDIUS)” ...

BODY COUNT: 2

wait and hamlet’s on death row, as with laertes. Oh no.

“LAERTES: He is justly served; It is a poison temper'd by himself. Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet: Mine and my father's death come not upon thee, Nor thine on me. (Dies)’ oh my god already??? I haven’t even really accepted king claud’s death?? jesus christ??

My friend just sorta nudged me and asked if i was alright and i. I’m not. i’m in shock. goddamn. what?

BODY COUNT: 3

goodness thats three in like less than thirty seconds JESUS CHRIST

“HAMLET: Heaven make thee free of it! I follow thee.I am dead, Horatio.” that’s chilling. just, the poignancy. that’s so fucking spectral. i’m not okay.

“HORATIO: Never believe it: I am more an antique Roman than a Dane: Here's yet some liquor left.” No no no on no nononon NO NO oh my god are you going to-

“HAMLET: As thou'rt a man, Give me the cup: let go; by heaven, I'll have't. … If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart Absent thee from felicity awhile, And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, To tell my story.” hey i’m crying in study hall. i’m actually crying. what the fuck. I don’t cry unless i’m thinking about that one pair of 18th century shoes with the really good photo quality (transcribing-antares here. I fucking love those shoes. I’m looking at them right now and they’re so fucking beautiful. they look how velvet feels, which is odd, bc they're apparently silk. I don’t care they’re just so fucking lovely)

F O R T I N B R A S?

“HAMLET: O, I die, Horatio; The potent poison quite o'er-crows my spirit.” I’ve identified my emotion. Dread. pure, unadulterated Dread.

for all of you that’ve listened to the penumbra podcast: do you remember the concierge, right before final resting place, saying “you do realize you can just like, leave, and everything will be hunky dory and you won’t have to deal with the emotional consequences this episode will bring you” because i’m seriously considering doing that right now.

“HAMLET: The rest is silence. (Dies)” shit. (posting-antares here to say that i forgot to do the body count but honestly im crying while formating because of this goddamn fucking 400 year old play)

“HORATIO: Now cracks a noble heart. Good night sweet prince…” oh god. horatio.

“Good night sweet prince…”

(yet again tis transcribing-antares here to say that im fucking sobbing right now, the shoes are no match for this, and ‘goodnight sweet prince�� is actually never going to leave my head.) (editing-antares here to say im fucking crying again god fucking damn it) (posting-antares back again saying that this fucking line. this line. my god.)

“HORATIO: What is it ye would see? If aught of woe or wonder, cease your search.” oh, horatio. god. that isn’t something said without tears staining your skin and a bitter tone hard-won, not that its possession is a victory.

oh my god. this can’t. no. this can’t end like this. What. no. people must have rioted. No. no!!

i typically hate it but i would GLADLY accept a deus ex machina right about now!!

okay my friend just took my phone away from me and shut it off because i kept on trying to scroll past the end

jesus christ

okay so i’m not going to be okay for like, several eternities, so im going to play the sims until i. until i die, probably. my god.

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