#sorta like someone reading a book aloud

[crabcrabcrabmeat]

Omg wait my instinct was right it IS a linguistic thing.

This is exploding my brain whadda hell

[rottingworship]

Beg and Bargain

The Proxies x Fem!Reader | Chapter One

A/N: QUICK NOTE! MY BLOG IS 18+! This is just a silly idea I had, and after reading some fics here and on ao3, I wanted to post it! So, as stated this is a silly idea. While I'm writing this very seriously, it started out silly in my head. I don't know how to explain it. Also, this is my first ever creepypasta AND marble hornets fic. SO, please go easy on me. I used to be the biggest fan of both, but never wrote fics for either as I was like... 15.

Warnings: blood, reader has... a power(?), eventual smut, sorta kidnapping, the operator gets your ass, semi-brief mentions of vomit (nothing too in detail!), reader wishing for death, mentions of murder, not really proofread, me taking my own artistic liberties...

word count: 2.7k

The woods are ever expanding. You feel like you’ve been running forever. Barefoot and barely breathing. You reach a field and run towards the middle of it. Every inch of you aches and your lungs burn. Your head begins to pound. You freeze when the moonlight hits some tall silhouette standing what feels like miles away.

It’s faceless.

You want to puke. You look behind you, wondering if you could book it back out of the woods. You already saved yourself once, you do not want to need to do it again. You know you can not do it again.

As you turn to look over your shoulder you see one of the men who were chasing you earlier. A hatchet in his hand. You look to both sides of you and see a man in a mask on each side. You drop to your knees, and let out a loud scream. Maybe someone will hear you? You doubt it. Your hands go to your head and a loud whimper escapes you.

“Please,” You cry quietly. You know that thing can hear you though. “I wanna go home.”

“N–No can do.” A voice comes from behind you.

The men are closing in on you.

“You killed our target!” The masked man on your right growls out loudly.

Your eyes widen. “There is no blood on my hands!” You cry, folding into yourself. A sob racks your body.

Your brain starts to feel fuzzy. Your nails dig into your scalp and a scream rips from your throat.

Join me.

What you can only assume is the silhouette across the field is in your head. You shake violently. “No!” You scream aloud, your voice ripping through the cold, night air. You have a feeling you don’t have a choice though. You killed the target. The voice reverberates through your head. “Please!” You hope maybe one of the men will save you. Your eyes are on the dirt in front of you. A static sound is stuck in your mind.

Your hands move from your head and to the dead grass below you. You dig into the dry soil and scream again. “Stop!” You shake your head again, trying to make the noise come to an end. “Make it stop!”

There is no choice to be made. The voice booms. You yelp. You look back at the man with the hatchet and begin to plead. “Kill me…” You whisper to him. “Kill me!” You scream this time. Hoping and praying he complies. His hand twitches, and for a moment, you are sure he is listening. He stops though. He stiffens and straightens up.

“It won’t work on us.” The man on your left sounds so matter of fact. “The Operator makes sure of it.”

The Operator… That must be the thing across the field. Your eyes shoot up to him and you think about bargaining. “I won’t tell anyone about this!” You grovel. “I’ll go home and go to bed, and then wake up tomorrow like nothing happened!”

You are useful.

His only response. The sick feeling is getting worse. “Okay!” You shout at him. “Please, I’ll do it! Just… Stop! Make it stop!” You muster up all the power you can in that last sentence. Another scream rips from your throat, one sending chills down the spines of the men around you.

Most excellent.

The static grows louder momentarily, and your hands move back to your head. Your spine snaps back, your back arching and one last scream pulling from your lungs. Once the static stops, you lurch forward, vomit, and fall to your side. Your head is still pounding, and you shut your eyes. You are out almost immediately.

_-_-_-_

You wake up to rummaging around you. You do not open your eyes immediately. Your head is spinning, and you are sure any source of light will cause you pain. So, you lie there. As you begin to fully wake up, you remember everything that happened. You are most likely not in your own home.

Your eyes squint open and the movement around you gets closer. Eyes are staring back at you. His mouth is covered. You gasp and move back, a sick feeling settling in your stomach again. You are going to puke. You sit up fast, making the nausea worse. You look around the room and spot a trash can in what seems to be the kitchen. You stand up, cover your mouth, and sprint towards it. As soon as you reach it, you drop to your knees and begin to dry heave. There is nothing on your stomach.

Your eyes shut tightly and you whine. You rest your head on the side of the trash can.

“Co–come on!” A voice comes from behind you. “I’m n–not ugly!” He's frustrated.

You peek over your shoulder and realize the man is standing right behind you. “Don't look at me!” You hiss. Swatting him away to no avail, you lean back over the trash can let out another, softer whine.

“Dude!” Another man walks into the room. “Were you waiting for her to wake up, Toby?”

“Sh-shut up, Brian!”

You stand up from the trash can when you realize you aren't going to be sick, and you turn around. The look on who you only assume is Brian’s face is shocked none the less. He quickly gives you a soft smile, acting as if he did not just make a horrified expression at you. You pout at him. Your hand goes not your stomach, and you want to cry.

Then you catch it. A glimpse of your hand. It is dirty and blood is caked under your nails. Your blood. You settle in the fact you are just going to feel sick from now on. While looking down at your hands, you notice your feet are bandaged. You hear chattering in front of you but you're too focused on yourself to realize what's being said.

“Who fixed up my feet?”

“Tim.” Toby and Brian say in unison.

“I wasn't about to to–touch feet. And yours were b–bloody!” Toby announces it so matter of fact.

Tim seems to have made his way into the room, or you hope he's Tim and there are no other men hanging around. “You make it sound like you don't deal with blood regularly.”

Toby scowls. “It–it’s different!”

Tim rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” He looks at you. Saying your name. Your stomach flips. You never had said your name. “Looks like you're part of the team now–”

“The team!?” Your voice is hoarse from screaming the night before. Your mind is boggled. “I was just fucking chased down… by you three I think–” you try to shout, “–had some... thing speak into my mind, and now– Now I'm part of some fucking team?” You want to explode.

“Well, yuh–yeah.” Toby says it so matter of fact. Your fists ball. They all notice. “You accepted this.”

You can easily fly off the handle. Maybe it is best you do… You rush Toby, ready to throttle him. You do not even get to touch him. You are intercepted immediately, and your arms are restrained. You struggle against strong arms as they wrap around your biceps and torso, keeping you from reaching Toby. Your legs kick out and you are quickly maneuvered backwards. Your back hits the wall and you let out a frustrated cry. Your wrists are held at your sides and Brian is almost on top of you.

“We do not want to hurt you.”

“You tried to kill me last night.” You hiss at him, your voice low and venomous. His grip on you tightens and you try to move your wrists. You struggle fruitlessly. “Let me go.”

You watch Brian's eye glaze over momentarily. His grip loosens and suddenly your head gets tingly. Before you get out of his grasp he tightens back up “Stop.” His voice… Your legs buckle, eyes widening for just a second.

You let out a steady breath. Your eyes lock with his, he doesn't look away. Thank God for unknowing men. Your eyes darken, pupils blown wide. “Let. Me. Go.” His hands fall to his sides and his eyes glaze over again. Suddenly, you don't feel so well. You fall back against the wall with a groan, and you grab your head.

“Your nose–” Tim says as you realize it's bleeding. “What the fuck?”

You slide down the wall and cover your nose. Blood is steadily dripping. What the fuck is right. You look up at the three men in fear.

“Hey! Do not look at us th–that way!”

“What way?” You snap back.

“Like you didn't just mind control Brian!” Tim looks concerned to say the least.

You look up at Brian with fear filled eyes. Maybe he will kill you for that outburst. After a moment of pure silence, you stand up to rush to the bathroom. They let you go. You eventually find the bathroom and shut the door tight, locking it. When you look in the mirror you want to scream. You understand why Brian seemed startled when he saw you.

Your face is dirt covered and tear stained. Blood, that is most definitely not yours, is splattered against your clothes. Which leads you to remembering what happened before you were being hunted in the middle of the woods. You outwardly cringe, a chill running down your spine at the memories. You decide to rinse your face with water and as you stand there, you realize how sore you are. You have time to process how much pain you are in. You want to cry again.

You finish rinsing your face and walk from the bathroom. You make your way back to the living area and the three men stop talking. Their voices were hushed anyway, but you pinpoint the exact moment they shut up. You are ready to go ballistic. You hold it together.

“You–You’re really pretty without all th–that dirt on y–your face.”

“Toby.” Your tone is a warning. You shut your eyes and inhale sharply. You hear someone hit Toby and then he groans. He apologizes. “I have questions for you guys.”

“We have questions for you.” Brian shifts.

“Okay,” You don’t want to answer their questions at all, “how about: I ask a question, you answer, then you ask a question, and I answer. That way all questions are answered.” The three look at each other and then nod. “Okay, first question, what the fuck happened last night?”

“You killed our target.” Tim shrugs, as if it’s obvious.

“What does that mean?” You want to scream.

“Not your turn,” Brian shushes you. “How did you do that to me?”

“Your ‘operator’ didn’t tell you?” You scoff at them. When they all seem unamused, you sigh. “I don’t know, I just… I can control people. Always have been able to, since I can remember. I mean,” You pause, eyes looking off, gathering your thoughts, “Not all people. Like, babies and animals I cannot control. Their brains are different. But! Most people are controllable.”

“Is th–that what happened last night?”

You scowl at Toby. “Not your turn,” You mimic Brian’s earlier tone. “Where’s my phone?”

Toby pulls it from his pocket and shakes at you. Like it’s some enrichment for you. You narrow your eyes. “My tuh–turn.” You can tell he’s smirking; he sounds smug. “H–How did you kill our target?”

You really do not want to answer that. Your stomach begins to growl. The sick feeling has subsided for now, and you haven’t eaten in… a while. You are starving. You place your hands on your stomach and sigh. “Is there anything to eat?” They all look at you with confusion. “I’m not avoiding the question, but if I don’t get to eat… I will be avoiding the question.” You smile at the three of them. Brian groans. He motions for you to follow him, and you do so, willingly. No questions asked.

They all make note of that.

“Here is the kitchen. Feel free to look around.” Brian sighs. You nod. “Now, answer the question.”

You open the cabinet and find some cereal. “Okay,” as you pour a bowl you answer the previous question. “What happened last night–” you grab the milk out. As you pour it into the bowl, the scent hits you. It is spoiled. You gag.

“You gotta stop doing that–” Tim scrunches his face up. “The gagging–”

“Who the hell let this spoil!?” You look at the date and reel back. “Well, I’m no longer hungry.” You get rid of cereal and notice the men are on the edge of their seats. Waiting for your answer. “Anyway,” You nervously rub your hands on the outside of your thighs. You do not want to recount the night. “I just, I’m on vacation, last night was the beginning of it–”

“Where are y–you from?”

“Not your turn, but I’ll be nice–” You shoot a look at Toby. “Here. I’m on vacation from work. Not everyone has the luxury to leave and go somewhere amazing. But I am– I was going to make the most of it!” You are growing anxious. “My ex–” You close your eyes.

“He’s the one you killed?”

You immediately snap. “I haven’t killed a single goddamn person! As I’ve said before, there is no blood on my hands.” You growl out. They sense you’re on edge. “He came to town; he moved away a while back. Moved onto greener pastures, or whatever–” You roll your eyes, “–but he wanted to pay me a visit…” Your stomach is turning. You shut your eyes gathering your thoughts and grip the hem of your sweater. “He decided to, uh–” You cut to the chase. “He had a gun. He did not come to just visit me. And apparently,” You let out a nervous laugh, “pastures are not always greener when you move away.”

Toby, Tim, and Brian are all listening. Very well.

“My turn!” You try to shift your mood. “Can I have my phone back?” You place your hand out at Toby and bat your eyelashes at him. “Please.” You are staring at him through your lashes.

Toby laughs at you. “S-sexy, but no.”

Your face drops. You ignore the ‘sexy’ part. “Did you forget I can mind control people?”

“Did you forget your nose just exploded with blood?” Brian scoffs. “You are not mind controlling any of us without consequences.”

He’s right. You sigh. “Scratch that last question, when can I get my phone back?”

“When we can trust you.” Tim is blunt.

Your eyes darken. “Fine.” You cross your arms. “Whatever, I don’t need that anyway. But–” You pause. “I will need, like, I don’t know– My fucking essentials?” You want to shout again. “Like face wash, deodorant,” You pause, humming, “tampons. Oh yeah, and clothes.” Because they really have you fucked up if they think you aren’t getting those things.

The three look at each other and then back at you. Tim is the first to speak up. “I’ll take you to get some stuff.” They are not about to let you leave alone. “You said you live in this town, right?”

“Well,” You look around you and out of a window, “I couldn’t tell you where I was right now, so I don’t know.”

Toby huffs. “We’re in m–my cabin.”

Oh, how dare I not know that, you think to yourself. “That gives me nothing to go off of. But, if we’re still in the same town, yes, I'm from here.” You deadpan. “If you get me out of these woods, I’m sure I could show you where my apartment is.”

“Hold on,” Brian speaks up. “Tim, Toby, come here.” He motions for them to follow them out, and they all motion for you to stay put. Once again, you listen. And once again, they all note how obedient you are.

You hear them mumbling. You can’t make out what Brian is saying, but he’s the most concerned it would seem. You wait patiently for them to get back to you. You look around the kitchen and examine everything. The place doesn’t look too lived in. The table is… not very used but definitely looks older. The sink only has your dirty dish in it, nothing else. This may be Toby’s place, but he or his friends definitely are not here often.

“Come on,” Tim walks back over to you, “we’re gonna go to your place.”

Thank God, you sigh. You want to shower more than anything. Getting away from whatever the fuck is going on is a close second though.

“Wait a minute,” You look down at your bandaged feet. “I don’t have shoes.”

[vanitythevantropist]

Hey, hello! I'm the evil one who wants to know how you're doing with ADHD. I recently confirmed this diagnosis with myself, and to tell the truth, it's a little difficult for me huh

This may be an uncomfortable topic, so you don't have to answer! With respect and love, your little evil

Ohh no, it’s not uncomfortable at all :D

Honestly, I like talking about my mental disorders! Makes me feel seen when people listen and it might help others down the line! (Also I might become a disorder psychologist in the future so👀)

If you’ve been diagnosed recently, here’s the first thing I’ll tell you; don’t jump to medication yet. I tell this to everyone! Why? Because without good coping mechanisms, the meds won’t work as well as they could

A couple weeks ago, I started taking medication, but I only did so after I learned about my ADHD and how my mind works :3 I’m still learning but I feel it’s important to know enough before one gets a prescription

For me, I feel that being reminded by other people is really helpful! I can’t always keep track of time or remember things too well (my short terms memory is shit💀) so it’s nice not needing to be the one in the driver’s seat

I’ve also figured out that reading aloud is more fun for me than regular reading, especially if I pace :3 It’s pretty common for people with ADHD to find it difficult to read books n stuff

Sometimes I get really addicted to different games and stuff, which may make it difficult to focus on things I need to😅 It’s pretty likely that others with ADHD feel similarly, so just know that that’s normal if you experience it :3

The best way I know to handle that is to do it with someone else! I love learning new things and watching movies but I find it difficult to get into them on my own, so I learn things like forensic science during school and have movie nights with my family :D

I hope this is all at least sorta helpful💞

If you have any specific questions, please feel free to ask! I don’t mind questions, it’s why my ask box is open :>

[carterashofficial]

Things that have happened in my BG3 play through (headcanons and actual things) with my bard Tavi, full name Octavia. This is mostly Act 1 nonsense

-her flute is less a flute and more shitty-elementary-school-recorder but somehow she can make it sound good (and she can passably play just about any instrument)

-Tavi’s ‘flute’ is made of metal and she absolutely has brained people with it before. Sometimes she plays Scratch’s belly like a drum and the dog is just so happy b/c belly rub. She thinks she’s a terrible singer but she’s actually pretty good. Her old boss wouldn’t let her sing or be in the spotlight b/c boss thought Tavi wasn’t pretty enough (cheek scar from a tussle as a teen)

-Tavi is always tapping out a beat with her feet or hands. Laezel threatens to cut them off if she doesn’t stop. this does not stop Tavi.

-Scratch decides his sleeping place is curled up with Tavi, preferably inside the sleeping bag with her. Multiple times she’s found a bone down by her feet b/c Someone wanted to protect it (and then Withers is on a rampage b/c the dog stole one of his tibia again)

-Astarion accidentally kills her via using Tavi as his personal juice box. Scratch sits beside her (friend is sleeping!) until Gale realizes she’s bloodless and he is absolutely heartbroken for poor Scratch b/c second friend in as many days died. so Gale revives Tavi (also: he might have a crush on her but sshhh)

-She wakes up to Scratch 3 inches from her face and he immediately drops a disgusting leather ball next to her head and begins licking her face b/c he’s so happy she finally woke up! Must have been a good sleep. Astarion is now on her shit list. Gale is on her “I sorta trust you” list.+

-Tavi and Karlach have a tap dancing competition which ends with Wyll showing them both up. Both Laezel and Astarion pretend it’s the dumbest thing ever but are secretly watching.

-Halsin accidentally scared Scratch while in Bear Form and doesn’t know how to explain to the dog that he sometimes turns into a bear b/c then the dog will think all bears are friends. His new strategy is to hide a new bone in camp for Scratch so the dog’s distracted. Withers goes on a rampage b/c again. his tibia. and now a rib. its insulting

-Tavi grew up an urchin in Baldur’s Gate and never had books of her own so Gale watches her read anything she can get her hands on and is definitely completely catching feels (she may be reading the books aloud to the kids at the grove). Except he is anything but normal about it and gets down on one knee and presses her hand against his chest so she can feel the curse. Ya know. As normal well-adjusted people do who haven’t been in a tower without contact from the outside world. Very normal.

-Scratch "I brought you a present! It made me think of you" and proceeds to drop a dead frog in front of Laezel. She's flattered. this furry creature hunted down vermin to show her that he is a useful member of the group.

-Tavi gets eaten alive by mosquitos/bugs the first night in camp and is miserable. She looks like she's got some contagious plague b/c there's spots all over her.

-Gale is the only one who calls her 'Octavia' in private b/c he's just Like That. Sometimes he says it while looking very serious and Tavi certainly Feels A Way about that. and he calls her Octavia while showing her how to do magic, and since their minds/souls are entwined, he feels her Reaction to that, she realizes he felt her emotions, so Tavi is bright red in the face while he stammers out that her thinking of him like that is a Surprise (but a welcome one). She can barely look him in the eye, while he can't look away from her.

-The group completely misses the fact that Gale and Tavi have an undercurrent of Something going on between them b/c Laezel and Shadowheart's rivalry is The Subject of Gossip (Astarion is taking bets on how long until they hate-fuck). Wyll and Karlach have taken bets. Halsin wants nothing to do with it.

-Tavi and Gale fall into the 'white people in a horror movie' category and are 10/10 trusting of Auntie Ethel. Tavi never had a maternal figure in her life, but read a lot of books with them. Auntie Ethel being overbearing reminds Gale of his mother. The rest of the group thinks Ether is Sus. Tavi and Gale think she's a lovely lady who can help them with the tadpole problem up (how can anyone evil live in such an adorable cottage?)

-Gale is absolutely enchanted with all the imperfect mortal things Tavi does. Like being sweaty in Grymforge. the wrinkles around her eyes when she squints in the sun. tangles in her hair. the scar on her cheek and how she doesn't always look enticing and takes a good half-hour to wake up in the morning. He'd forgotten how imperfection can be perfection in its own way. He doesn't feel like an inadequate mortal like he did with Mystra.

-Tavi absolutely adores children and plays hide-n-seek with the tiefling kids in the camp. Laezel 100% joins in b/c she thinks its to teach them tracking and hunting skills. Wyll and Karlach are terrible at hiding (on purpose) and help the younger kids look for the others. Gale is pulled into the game by Tavi and he whispers in her ear "you've made me hide, don't make me come seek you" and Tavi, who has never been on the receiving end of flirts like that, is left speechless b/c how do you even react to that.

[justjozzyjitters]

Short Story #6

To Be Alive

“Officer Grimson,” Ellie addresses, reaching out to tap him on the shoulder. “I have some information that might help, I mean it was my car, well, my dad’s car or whatever.”

His shoulders stir slightly at her touch, but he makes no move to address her. His focus remains on the tablet in his hands, one flat against its back, as he uses his pointer finger to slowly type information on a new document. “Officer Grimson,” she tries again, more desperately this time.

The scene before them is devastating in appearance, and she can hardly even stand to look at it. Her Jeep– lime green, fitted to match the new surge of warm, summer weather– pulled recklessly up to a telephone pole, slightly tilted with the weight of her car. The air bag on her side is still wholly blown up. At the same time, that of her passenger was purposefully popped when they were still trying to pull her free before walking her over to be checked by the paramedics, giving her a shock blanket, and finally sat beside her on her neighbor’s garden wall.

Lilith must be angry, somehow blaming her for the crash they had just gotten into. She won’t even look at her. By appearance alone, Lilith was completely alright, but her brains must be scrambled, leaving her to blame someone for her inability to cope with their sudden trauma. She was more hurt, after all. The officers that got on the scene first, the paramedics, fire fighters– none of them had even addressed her past a single glance. Other than dull cramping in her neck and a voice rendered only to little croaks, Ellie feels fine. Despite this, you would think someone would pay a bit more attention to her. She is a victim too.

“Officer Grimson!” Her shriek blends with the calm voice of Lilith as she joins Ellie in her attempt to speak to the man. Finally, he turns around.

“I have her purse, if that helps,” Lilith motions awkwardly, attempting to keep the heavy blanket around her shoulders and hand him at the same time. He takes it from her, tucks it beneath his armpit, and readjusts it for her. “I was, um, holding it for her while she was driving. She usually tosses it onto the floor board but our backpacks were there and she didn’t want to risk it falling off the back seat or something being that there are no doors. I guess when we crashed I sorta just clung to it.”

Finally, Grimson flips it open. There is a single pocket design, the front of it made into a flat wallet. Left to right, it goes from a collection of varied library cards, an emergency credit card, a debit card, and finally, her license, on display through the little plastic window. “Name,” he says aloud, pausing momentarily as he hands off the tablet to his assistant, “Elenor Lynn Patterson.”

“It’s Ellie!” she interjects, taking advantage of the attention now on them. Lilith repeats her, like a translator, for her inability to speak.

When they had met, Lilith had surprised her by already knowing her name. “I’m Ellie,” she had introduced herself, standing idly at her desk as the class ended for the day.

--

“I know who you are,” Lilith bites back. “We’ve been in the same psych class for the last year and a half. Of course, I know who you are."

Ellie recoils, pulling back from an unrequited handshake. She moves to play with the brass buttons of her jacket, then at the base of her bleached hair. “Fine then, be that way, but I will tell you right now, I am not doing this assignment alone. I have done too many that way to let just another person push me around. I expect your respect and I won’t put up with anything less than that.”

From her position above Lilith, Ellie’s declaration is almost threatening. But nothing is when met by laughter. “Learn that from one of those self-help books you are always reading?” she teases.

Ellie smiles a little. “I did, yes. I’ve always had a bit of issues socially, but being that I

am going to university soon, I figured I’d better study up on how to make some friends. There

was this really swell chapter, including one of the revised diary entries of the author when she

was in high school about how she would rather be alone than disrespected. I can’t say I agree

with her assessment of the situation, but….”

“For some with ‘social issues,’ you sure talk a lot.”

Ellie quickly apologizes, once again retreating behind a trench of hair. “I was just mentioning that because I sort of figured we could save ourselves some work because I’ve already read it. The book feels like far more of a biography– and autobiography than a self-help book. There are plenty of things to analyze.”

“So, you were just trying to speed up the process?”

She nods while curling in her lips and releasing them with a slobbery pop. “Yeah, I’ve-- I’ve already read it, but I’m not expecting you to do more than me because of that. I figured we could split up the rest of the work evenly? I mean, I read it for fun– and it was fun– so it would only be proper for me to put some actual work into it.”

Lilith glances up at her, an understanding glimmering behind a rough, protective exterior. “So, where are we doing this?” she asks, “My house is a little rowdy, so I’d rather not do it there.”

“Mine too,” Ellie interrupts excitedly, “I’ve got like four dogs and they’re really nice but they’re yappy so we’d never get any work done. We could meet at the library on Fifth?”

Lilith nods hesitantly. “That’ll work, but I’m gonna need a ride. I don’t get to take my test again for a couple more months.”

“Oh, okay!” Spastically, Ellie dumps her purse onto the desk, grabs a pen, and flips her journal to a random new page. “Just, like, put down your number and address– and maybe your name.”

Lilith freezes up. “Don’t you know my name?”

“Oh, um, I’m sorry. I don’t know your name. I was gonna asked but then you knew mine and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable when I didn’t know your’s in return,” Ellie explains frantically.

“It’s Lilith– not Lily,” she clarifies, “just Lilith.”

“Okay,” Ellie idles, “Lilith.”

When offered, Lilith takes the notebook and quickly jots down her information. She holds it out again, “I didn’t know your name either; I lied. Elanor Lynn Patterson, as I am now reading it off your ID.”

“Oh,” Ellie chuckles slightly, flipping the purse shut and tossing the strap over her shoulder. She waves her hand briefly and strides out of the classroom.

--

“How much do you know about this girl, Miss. Benisson?” asks Officer Grimson, “Perhaps a parent’s name? A phone number?”

Lilith tends to observe people, as she did with Ellie and her many self-help books. The names of the people around her never quite come up.

“I don’t know a lot. We’ve had classes together and recently started this one project together, but outside of that I know zilch. She has four yappy dogs?” she laughs bitterly.

“She had come and got me a couple hours ago ’cause I don’t drive. We were at the library and had just finished up, so she was taking me home. Then this little bird flew into the front of the car, and she swerved to miss it. She must of hit some sort of pothole cause next thing I knew, we were battered up against a pole.

“Then I looked over at her, and her eyes were gray. We had just hit, and we were still in

our seats, and I looked at her, and she was just sorta staring at me.

“In movies and shit, they also have the life draining out of people’s eyes and shit, but I had thought it was just to up the drama, but her eyes were just so dull. Her neck was snapped to the side, so she was just staring at me.

“When she talks, she looks anywhere but at yah, but she kept looking at me. There was just something wrong, and I just knew she was dead. Her eyes are supposed to be brown."

--

Reaching her hand hesitant around the bulge of the airbag, Lilith works to push Ellie away from her. Looser than that of a doll, it swings on its base, and her chin clacks loudly against her breast bone before coming full circle to land back on Lilith. At least this time, Ellie just sorta stared into Lilith’s lap.

Then, Lilith, just sort of sat there. At that moment in time, she could have been thinking about anything in the world, but it was just blank and black as TV static, the volume turned to mute. Her head felt heavy, and no words could come to mind for the hours that seemed to pass while they waited for someone to find them and then for them to get help.

Once Lilith had gotten to know Ellie, she didn’t seem to shut up. But now she is the one, utterly soundless, an unmoving thing in a world so uppity and lively around her she can hardly stand it.

--

“I can’t decide what would have been worse. I so badly wanted to be Ellie instead, just dead rather than sitting there waiting for something to happen. Anything to happen, really, for her to go off again. She never shuts up. I swore so many times while sitting there that she was still droning on, jabbering from the backseat about those fucking dogs. Then I’d look around, and she’d still be sitting there.

“God, even now I’d give anything to hear her freaking jabbers. If she had just shut up for one damn minuet and watched the fucking road, maybe we’d both be alive right now.”

Ellie shifts uncomfortably in the second seat of the interrogation room. They hadn’t asked her questions or even addressed her as they entered. Now, the reasons behind it were starting to make sense. In horror movies, the ghosts never know they’re dead, and when they do, they disappear, but she just sits here. Moving as everything sits around her, undisturbed.

About 2022, age 18.

[ikesenwritings]

Okay okay okay, this isn't really a request, just a question for opinion, or... A fub little something? No idea.

You know how people generally tend to have some weird little habits? Say, some people need to clean things in one particular order, or have items only they can use, or have a little song they sing when nobody watches? That sorta stuff.

Do you think IkeSen and/or IkeVamp guys have some?

My personal headcanon is that, although Masamune is ambidextrous, he can hold knife only with his right hand. Chopping stuff while holding it in his left one just feels clunky??

Oh, and for Mitsuhide 👀 He strikes me as a person who'd sing quietly once it's dark? You know, it's late and he's coming home, and humming to himself to kill the time...

Ohohoho this was too fun but not sure if I can call these habits per se?? 😸😸 here’s what I figure:

Kenshin

He walks every inch of the castle alone either very early in the morning (like before sunrise) or late at night before he goes to bed. I mean, he’s just so bored. But! While he’s patrolling, looking for a reason to fight someone or something, he actually comes to find that maybe, he really enjoys this! Hooray! While everyone else can see why a walk can be a great way to meditate or alleviate stress, Kenshin is just a tad bit confused as to why he’s compelled to incorporate these walks into his busy schedule.

Yukimura

Okay, as much as he feels affronted that Shingen has him selling women’s accessories, he still wants to do a good job and refuses to give anyone trying to do honest business a bad rep, and so, without fail, Yuki will always arrive to his post early (irrespective of his spy duties) and take his time arranging all the charms and whatnot so it’s all presentable—presentable in a way that makes sense to Yuki, so we’re not talking about organizing it by color or accessory type, but rather in size order lol. All with a determined look on his face. (Maybe his tongue is poking out a bit because, of course, arranging the accessories in such a way requires concentration.)

Hideyoshi

Now, this is specific to Mitsunari and MC. As the mother hen he is, I think if he sees one part looking out of place (obi, a lock of hair, etc.), he feels very compulsive and rather than fixing that one part first, he’ll go from the bottom up (or top down) and scan your person and will fix anything that needs to be fixed in that order so Mitsunari and MC will always look prim and proper.

Mitsuhide

I agree, he definitely hums a little diddy when he’s by himself, whether it’s walking back to his manor in the middle of the night or getting out of the bath and getting dressed for bed. Something very traditional and maybe even a melody he considers to be really beautiful and sweet. I also like to think that if ever a performance happens at the castle (traditional Noh theater for example) he’ll find himself mumbling the words later on.

Mozart

I believe that whenever there’s a family dinner with all the residents and Mozart undoubtedly finishes first so he can go back to practicing, he will always dab his mouth with a napkin, refold it, and set it on the table; he’ll place all the utensils the way they were before he began eating; and if he’s grabbed the salt or pepper, he’ll put it back in the exact position as he found it. Everything is spotless, everything looks the way it did before dinner was called. It’s almost like he was never there. No one bats an eye at his behavior. But Sebas has tried to tell him time and again that it’s unnecessary but Mozart, for all the times he’s been a bit rude or short with Sebas, this was his way of helping out by making his mess as inexistent as possible. Though he would never say it aloud.

Isaac

I think Arthur and Dazai tease Isaac about him only reading books about philosophy and science and that he should be adventurous and dive into fiction, but little did they know, if Isaac can spare the time, he’ll check out books from the library—all titles the two of them have said in passing conversation, and he’ll make little notes on scrap paper since he can’t annotate in the margins, and he’ll have conversations with himself about the plot as he’s reading before bed. And he has to resist the urge to talk about the book he’s currently reading lest he be teased even more for giving in to the authors’ previous jests.

Jean

I think this is more of a recent thing where he never really minded a messy station or working area whenever he was in town at his job, but now he’d like nothing more than to have everything in its own place and it definitely makes life just a tad easier. And ever since MC started teaching Jean how to read and write, he’ll label anything he can and is really proud of how organized he can be. And I think Jean would do that with anything else that can be labeled as long as he knows he’s not being a disturbance to anyone in the mansion. He’d probably start in the kitchen with jars and spices (under supervision from Sebas, of course).

Theo and Vincent

I think they both share similar nervous ticks. It could be tugging at their ear, bouncing their leg up and down, checking their wristwatch—all simultaneously. It never makes sense to anyone in the mansion to see them like this cause they’re almost never nervous wrecks but damn, once you see them so anxious, they look like two boys again. Usually, everyone is quick to console and/or help tackle the problem at its source. For Theo, it’s whatever gallery he’s secretly holding next. For Vincent, it’s usually because Theo has lost his cool.

[marvel-fanfic-writer-8675]

All I Want For Christmas is You

Stucky x Reader

Warnings: Fluffy sadness(sorta angst) fluff, cursing, very fluffy ending

Summary: your boyfriends were sent on a last minute mission and might not be home in time for Christmas, just like last year

You were once again, watching ‘A Charlie Brown Christmas’ alone. Your boys had promised you they’d be home with you this time, but when Fury called for a mission that was an emergency……well….

“Doll, I’m real sorry, Fury says we have to go,” Bucky hugged you tightly. “I can try to convince him maybe? Make them send someone else?” Steve thought aloud. You just sighed, “go, I know you need to, I knew what I was getting into, just go,” they kissed you and thanked you for understanding, promising themselves they’d work their hardest to make it home in time for Christmas.

After the movie, you decided to go out and see the Brooklyn Christmas lights. It was the 23rd of December, so the guys could still make it, but it was unlikely. You walked through Marine Park, they had hot coco and Christmas music playing while you looked at the thousands of twinkling blubs. When Mariah Carey came on with her ‘All I want for Christmas is You’ you teared up, you really missed your boyfriends. You thought they’d be there this year, they couldn’t be there last year because of Hydra deciding to make a move, they just wanted to ruin your Christmases. You hurried back to your car and started crying in the car. You calmed yourself down enough to drive back home to your shared apartment that was beautifully decorated, and fell asleep, crying and cold without your two personal body heaters.

It was Christmas Eve, and they still weren’t back, but you didn’t want to give up the slimmer of hope you had, you made sure all presents were wrapped for opening, went to the store to get all ingredients you needed for Christmas dinner tomorrow and some extra treats, which you spent the rest of the day making. You made a plum and lemon pound cake for you and the super soldiers, and some Christmas cookies for the team at the tower. You packaged them up and drove over, Happy let you up immediately.

“Hello? I bring cookies!” You yelled out to the tower, signaling the 3 team members there to run into the room. “Ooh! They look so good! Thanks Y/N!” Bruce complimented as him, Clint, and Sam grabbed some cookies. Bruce didn’t go because he didn’t want to Hulk out, Clint had a broken arm from falling off the kitchen counter, and Sam’s wings were getting fixed. “Hey, you sure you don’t want to join us for a small Christmas here?” Sam asked, he knew you hated Steve and Bucky being away again this year. “Nah, it’s fine, maybe they’ll be home tomorrow, and I want to be there if they do.” You were a teacher so you didn’t have work these two weeks. Sam looked at you sympathetically and smiled, “alright, call me if you change your mind.” You agreed and headed back to your apartment as it was getting late. You were slightly hoping your boys had come home in the time you were gone, but they hadn’t. You dragged yourself through your nightly routine and fell into the bed. You had given up hope, they weren’t gonna be home for Christmas.

You woke up, sad, today was already one of the worst Christmases, you couldn’t spend it with Steve or Bucky, and you hope had all drained out of you. You went out to the couch to put on some TV and eat breakfast, but you saw the Christmas decorations and it just reminded you of what you didn’t have. You decided to try and be cheerful. You put on Christmas music and made a Christmas themed breakfast. You were in the spirit a little more now, so you spent the day making the big dinner, they were super soldiers and would eat a lot, and you could always wrap it if they didn’t come home that day.

They didn’t show up, you were hopeful but you knew it was coming. You wrapped all the food up and stuck it in the fridge. You pulled out a book, put Christmas music on and read. It was nearing 9:00pm when it came on for the first time that day, ‘All I want for Christmas is you.’ You had tears in your eyes and were singing along, thinking of your boys. Silent tears were streaming from your face, and you were so focused on your thoughts you didn’t hear the door open.

Steve and Bucky shared a look that said, ‘god I feel terrible.’ They moved over to you, “hey doll, we’re back.” Bucky had crouched down and softy spoken, not wanting to startle you. You looked up, the tears turning to happy tears, “Buck Buck! Stevie! Your home! And it’s still Christmas!” You hugged them so tightly, you never wanted to let go. “How about Buck and I go get a quick shower and out of our suits and then we have a late night Christmas of our own. How does that sound?” You smiled at Steve’s plan, “perfect, except before our Christmas, I’m cleaning up your injuries, super soldier or not, I’m not having them get infected.” You put your foot down, you did it every time. The guys usually protested but not tonight, tonight, they needed to make it up to you, so they kept their mouths shut and went along with it.

You had both soldiers sitting on the bathroom countertop and you were checking them over and dealing with cuts, and bruises. You had just found a deep scratch on Bucky’s torso. “Buck take your shirt off,” you demanded, not being able to see the whole cut. “Doll, if you wanted to see my muscles all you had to do was ask nicely,” he cockily said. “James Buchanan Barnes.” You lifted you eyebrow up in warning. Bucky mumbled a sorry and took his shirt off so you could clean the wound. “Thank you,” you gave them both kisses after cleaning all the wounds. “Dinner is in the fridge and just needs reheating,” Bucky and Steve’s eyes lit up, you reheated the food and set it on the table, the guys had set. “Mm, doll it looks delicious,” Steve complimented and you all dug in. “I made dessert too,” you commented. “What is it!?!?” The boys both asked excitingly, “a surprise,” you responded. After dinner you snuck away and grabbed the cake, “tada!” “Doll, is that, a plum lemon pound cake?” Steve asked excitingly. “Maybe,” you teased. The guys both dug in, saying how good it was, and they needed one of these every day. After dinner it was present time.

“Doll, that one is for last,” Bucky said, pointing to the big present that had your name on it. You hadn’t seen it before, the guys had brought it over from the tower. “alright….” you said suspiciously and passed out the rest of the presents. You went around opening them one by one. Steve got some new art supplies, cleaner for his shield, a new wallet and some clothes. Bucky got some fancy hair stuff he wanted, a giant bag of plums, a record player with some more old 40s records, since his old one broke when he was chasing after Steve and ran into it. You got (cool stuff that you wanted) and then it was time to open the big present. Bucky and Steve were jumping up and down out of excitement, “go ahead doll, open it!!” You ripped open the box, “oh my god,” you started tearing up, “thank you guys I love you both so much,” “it’s for when we go away on missions, so you don’t feel too lonely,” Steve explained “we hate leaving you alone doll,” Bucky added. “So what’s her name?” You pulled out the present from the box. “Her name is Alpine, but if you don’t like it we can change it,” Bucky told you. “No I love her, and I love her name,” you turned to Alpine, “hey little kitty, hi, you’re just so cute and tiny.” The guys loved seeing you interact with the cat and sat back smiling. You yawned, it was now close to midnight and you were all tired. You all decided to clean up tomorrow and head to sleep, that night you felt an unusual, fluffy, ball cuddle up with you three. Alpine became a part of your cuddle pack every night, and when the guys weren’t home it was just the two of you cuddled on the bed, you were alone anymore, and while you always would miss the boys when they had missions, it was more bearable with Alpine by your side.

[thestalkerbunny]

When I’m sad and stressed and it feels like the world is falling apart around me in slow motion; I manic create. Which seems like I’m creating all the time so I guess that says something about me.

These are some Shop Keeper NPCS I made for Shadow Oaks, please look at them. There’s a lot of love here.

Auntie Yuan-Ti’s is a sort of fill in for that ‘small town chinese place that is family owned and it’s absolutely BANGING’ run by 3 generations of Yuan-Ti woman, Mama Hissha, Ssssarah and Ssssarah’s daughter, Hissaffany. Hissaffany runs the social media page, Ssssarah handles a lot of the store face stuff and Mama Hissha INSISTS that she be the one to cook everything lest they catch the wooden spoon. Yuan-ti cooking can be described as weird mix between Chinese, Indian and Mexican Cooking. A lot of spice, a lot of rice and a whole lotta nice flavors.

UnderSun is a tanning and nail salon run by two elves of the woodland and drow variety. They claim they’re sisters, but legally and biologically that claim holds water like a leaky pot. They have ALL the gossip tho. Tanya runs the tanning beds while Brittany does nails most of the time.

Spirits of the Wine is run by Raymond; an old school medium. He does pretty well for himself since a lot of people in town love just be raging alcoholics. He sounds like Moe from the Simpsons but he’s a lot prettier and a little more well adjusted....sorta. Rumor has it, he’s the son of a hag and one time someone saw him turn into a horned owl and fly off into the woods. But that’s silly. Hags don’t have BOY children.....right?

Evermore is a Raven Kenku (not a CROW) who runs the bookstore. He isn’t as well spoken as most Kenku but is working on picking up new words by letting the Ladies Book Club have their meetings there and listening to read aloud story time for the little kid. Evermore apparently is a sort of town legacy-his ancestor was one of the founding party members of the town. But you never hear him brag about it.

Something Familiar is the pinnacle pet store for all your critter supplies. Jaque is it’s sole employee as of now and he’s going to collage 40 minutes away to learn to be a vet. He loves all kinds of animals from cats and dogs to ferrets and fish-but the EXOTIC things make him nervous as they often bite him (like domestic griffin cats, Mini owl bears and Jewlery Box Mimics.) Mr. Muffins is his employer and actually a very important zoologist in the creature community. He’s always dragging in something new and weird for Jaque to deal with. He owns the store as a way for steady local income for his wife and kids so they can stay in one place and not hop all over the country like he does. His wife’s name is Felice-but he affectionately calls her Fleas.

Audrey’s Flowers is run by a Fey named Audrey and her druid husband Seymour. They seem like an idyllicly wed sort of couple and it’s not a strange sight to see Audrey milling around town doing mundane things like shopping or book club. It’s unsure how a 3 like Seymour is wed to a 11 like Audrey; what is known is that apparently Audrey used to have a very ‘unpleasent beau’ that was very mean to her that she tolerated until she met Seymour in the woods one evening. They have two children, Orchid and Audrey jr.

Short and Stout is exactly run by who you’d think it’d be run by. Brightglass the Halfling and his Dwarven Wife and business partner, Shirley. Their little boutique is the only one in town that hasn’t eaten absolute SHIT during the first year; mainly because they sell a diverse range of things and Brightglass knows how to operate an online store.

[hops-hunny]

When He Sees Me

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Chubby!Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 4.3k

Request: N/A

Summary:(Y/n) always thought she was too rational for love, until she wasn’t. (Based off of the song When He Sees Me from Waitress)

Warnings: Slight negative thoughts and angst but vast majority fluff and pining! Oh and positive use of the word fat.

A/N:  Fred is a little OOC in this?? But I honestly just imagine him as the type of guy to be sorta whipped if he really falls for someone.

I stick with real things

Usually facts and figures

When information's in its place

I minimize the guessing game

(Y/n) had always been a rational girl. In her younger years at Hogwarts, as all her friends began to giggle and blush at their crushes, she kept her nose in her books. Although she was curious of what they were experiencing, the thought never lasted long in her mind due to what her mother had told her from a young age.

(Y/n) was about the age of 6, sitting on the floor near the couch as she colored humming to herself softly. She had noticed her mom was in a bad mood due to her being sprawled out on the couch many upon many empty bottles of alcohol littered the table. She wasn’t sure why her mother was so upset but ever since they had seen her father at the park with her babysitter last week her mom had been in this mood and her father hadn’t been back.

“(Y/n) dear, promise me something.” her mother muttered to her half asleep. The girl turned around smiling at her mom. Her mom gave her a weak smile back as she pet the top of the girls head. “Never give your heart to a man. He’ll only leave it in pieces.”

At the time, the girl obviously had no clue what she meant but the older she got and the more she saw the people in her life get their hearts broken time and time again she had developed a clue. So, she simply focused on anything that wasn’t romance. School, plants, knitting, you name it and that’s what she gave her attention to. Even though it wasn’t a conscious action, it still affected her deeply.

I don't like guessing games

Or when I feel things

Before I know the feelings

How am I supposed to operate

If I'm just tossed around by fate?

Like on an unexpected date?

Although her friends described it to her many upon many of times, she still found herself absolutely clueless of what feelings of love was like. That's why when she saw him, she was confused by what was happening.

“Oh he’s simply lovely! He does this funny little things with his hands where-” Although (Y/n) was focused on her coursework, she was still listening to Diane as usual. She liked to listen to her friends retelling of experiences with lovers, soaking it in like a cheesy romance movie. She looked out the window needing a quick break from her work. Her breath hitched quietly as she placed a soft chubby hand over her heart feeling as it raced wildly in the chamber of her chest. Her body had a tingling sensation all over that she had never felt before as she felt herself get dizzy.

“W-who’s that?” she said in an airy tone, causing her friend to follow her gaze. There he stood, laughing and joking around with his friends pushing each other around. His ginger locks blew in the wind slightly and his skin glowed in the soft afternoon sun. 

“You mean you don’t know who that is? That’s Fred weasley! He’s like one of the most popular guys in our year. I can’t believe you just asked that.” She snickered some, teasing her friend. She stopped once she noticed the girl who was usually quick to snap back was unusually quiet. She smiled softly at her expression, noticing that look in her eyes. Whether (Y/n) knew it or not yet, she was absolutely enamoured with none other than Fred Weasley.

“I don’t like him. He makes me feel funny.” she said, however the way she looked out the window still said otherwise.

“Funny how?”

“I don’t know, just funny.”

“Like laugh funny or like funny funny?”

“Obviously not laugh funny, are you an idiot?” She asked, glaring at her blonde friend. She looked out the window once more. She noticed him look back causing her to gasp, eyes wide with shock. He winked at her causing her to scoff, pick her things up before shutting the library blinds and run off to who knows where.

Diane laughed to herself as she began to pack her own stuff up to go after her friend. She sighed before running quickly out the library to catch up.

“Ah, young love!”

-------------------------------------

With a stranger who might talk too fast

Or ask me questions about myself

Before I've decided that

He can ask me questions about myself

He might sit too close

Or call the waiter by his first name

Or eat Oreos

But eat the cookie before the cream?

“For the last time Diane, I’m not talking to him!” she said, slamming her book closed as she tossed it on the table in front of her. Her, Diane and a few of her other friends found themselves in the common room as they usually did on friday nights talking and gossiping about anything that came to mind. Today’s topic of discussion was the girl’s apparent “crush” as they called it. Considering she had nothing to base off of whether that’s what the funny feeling she had mentioned earlier in the week was, she decided to trust her friends in them saying that’s what it was.

“What? Oh come on, give me one good reason why you won’t.” Molly said, facing her friend her sharp green eyes boring into (Y/n)’s (e/c) ones. 

“Oh I can give you a PLETHORA of reasons why not!” the (y/h/h) girl exclaimed as she stood up. She began to pace, trying to rack her brain for good reasons on why not. “Aha! What if he butters both sides of his toast? Or-or what if he asks me too many questions on why I’m talking to him? Or if he’s as popular and well known as you say, what if he takes that as an excuse to ignore personal space boundaries and gets handsy?” 

“He’s a teenage boy, not a serial killer. Someone’s been watching too much muggle crime specials.” Molly said as she rolled her eyes, sighing as she leaned back into the couch. (Y/n) glared at her friend, letting out an exasperated sigh as she facepalmed. It wasn’t like she didn’t wanna do anything about these feelings. She most certainly did. Whatever would get rid of them the quickest is the route she wanted to take.

“Well, you could always let him know another way!” Ronnie said as they looked up at their friend. “You’ve got so many skills and talents, why not take advantage of it?” Although Ronnie wasn’t very talkative, whenever they opened their mouth they always said something that made perfect sense.

“As per usual Ronnie, you’re the voice of reason. Merlin bless Ronnie for all of eternity!” (Y/n) exclaimed dramatically as she got on her knees, pretending to worship her friend like a god. 

--------------------------

(Y/n) had been doing just that, making herself known to Fred without making herself known. The (y/h/h) girl had wanted to be anonymous about it, leaving things without her name however Diane pointed out the fact that (Y/n) had “the presence of a ghost” and that “even ghost had more of a presence then her” which meant that even if she did attach her name to the things left Fred would have no idea who it was. Because to be frank (Y/n) was, well, a nobody. 

She noticed this little ‘talent’(if you could even call it that) first year when her teachers would mark her as absent despite her being in the front row of the class and having some of the highest marks. She seemed to fly by unnoticed by all but her small group of friends which they all found funny, especially with Diane being one of the most popular girls in their grade if not all of Hogwarts. 

So, she started off small. She’d leave little notes for him in places she knew he’d find them, usually his first or last class of the day, and his seat in the great hall. She would watch him as he’d read them, flushing sometimes as he read them. However, his usual response was to read them out loud to George, bragging about how a pretty girl was leaving him notes.

“Ah listen to this one, Georgie! ‘Here’s a quidditch tip for you Fred. I noticed that when you’re on your broom you have a habit of going to the right which is why you often get stopped. Try switching it up sometimes! However, that’s not the only thing I’ve noticed. Somehow despite being in that dorky quidditch outfit, you still look just as fit as usual. Yours truly, (Y/n).’” He smirked at that part, a chorus of ‘ooo’s from his friends.

“Although she may be blind to say that, she does know her quidditch! Sounds like a catch if you ask me. I’m surprised she didn’t go for me, the better twin.” George said, choking on his toast as Fred smacked him on the back of the head.

Diane nudged her friend, glancing at her. She laughed as she saw her friend’s round face buried in a book to hide the overwhelming amount of shyness that was overcoming her. Even though this had become a regular thing, she still couldn’t stop the way her heart would race every time Fred would read one of the letters aloud. 

To avoid the notes becoming repetitive, she started to switch it up every once in a while. Baked goods, hand knitted scarfs and gloves, even flowers with meanings behind them made their way into Fred’s ownership. However, the more things he got the more not only him but other people became curious. Who was (Y/n) (L/n)?

But what scares me the most

What scares me the most

Is what if when he sees me, what if he doesn't like it?

What if he runs the other way and I can't hide from it?

What happens then?

If when he knows me, he's only disappointed?

What if I give myself away, to only get it given back?

I couldn't live with that

Molly was currently trying to catch up to her soft friend, a sympathetic look on her face. “Why not? I think you should just go up to him and tell him! So many other girls have tried, claiming to be you.” she said, catching the other girl’s attention. She bumped into her as the (h/c) girl abruptly stopped. She turned to look at her friend with tears in her eyes causing her to look down at her agape.

“Do you wanna know why I haven’t just gone up to him yet? Do you really?” She said above a whisper as she looked up at her tall friend, silent tears making their way down her cheeks. “It scares me. It scares me even fucking more than what I feel for him does. Fred is just so..he’s funny, talented, popular. Who wouldn’t want him?” she choked out, looking away. “What if when he sees me, he doesn’t like me? Whenever he reads my notes or gets one of my gifts he always mentions how beautiful (Y/n) must be.”

“(Y/n)...”

“Let me finish Molly. When he says that, he probably means some tall leggy blonde like Diane. I’m just me.” she lets out a dry chuckle, sniffing as she wipes at the tears streaming. “Sure, I find me beautiful, you guys find me beautiful, but the world doesn’t. I don’t look like anyone he’s ever been with before. Fred is always surrounded by tons of gorgeous women. If he saw me, he’d only be disappointed. If I gave myself to him and he rejected me, I couldn’t live with that. Now I see what my mom was talking about.” she said as she walked off leaving Molly confused by the last part of her statement. She frowned hearing her friend’s words but she knew her better than to chase after her when she was upset. She turned the other way, walking quickly in hopes she’d make it to her lecture not too late. However, a flash of red hair out of the corner of her eye didn’t go unnoticed but it did slip her mind when she saw her friend later.

So, I'm just fine, inside my shell-shaped mind

This way I get the best view

So that when he sees me, I want him to

(Y/n) sat in the library at a table by herself. It was a friday, usually she’d spend this time with her friends in the commons. However, after the never ending pestering to just talk to him, to face him she told them she wasn’t feeling well and that she’d be retiring early. It wasn’t a lie, she had completely planned on getting some much needed rest but as she lay in bed tossing and turning her restlessness turned into frustration leading her to read a bit to clear her mind. Reading was what she enjoyed doing when she wanted to clear her mind or simply escape the insufferable reality she was living in. But after she found herself reading the first line to chapter three 10 times she placed her bookmark between her pages, looking out the window.

It was if the universe was taunting her from the sight in front of her. There he stood, talking to another girl from their year. She couldn’t recall the girls name but it wasn’t that important, she was beautiful. She sighed as Fred laughed at something the girl said, patting her head before walking away. ‘It’s better this way. He can’t see you which means he can’t reject you which means you won’t get hurt’ is what she kept telling herself. However if that was the truth, then why did she feel so empty inside?

-----------------------

(Y/n) laughed along with her friends as they sat in the empty common room. Everyone from their house was Merlin knows where at this time as they all shared their intimate horror stories.

“Oh come on, that did NOT happen.” she said through laughs, eating another chocolate from the box on the table. Her cheeks hurt from the amount she had been laughing. Diane was in the midst of telling what happened during her recent sexual endeavor with some guy from her herbology class.

“I swear he did! His face was green and everything! Next thing I know he was blowing chunks off the side of the bed. I offered to take him to the infirmary but he didn’t hear me through his tears so I just made my exit as swift as possible!” she said laughing as well, face red from how much she had laughed through the telling of the story. They all continued to howl with laughter, someone else’s laughing triggering someone else to laugh even more. (Y/n) was the laugh one left laughing as her friends all began to grow quiet. 

“G-guys? Why’d you stop? Who’s next?” she said, looking at Molly who was on her left and Ronnie who was on her right. 

“Um, don’t look how (Y/n) but Fred Weasley is coming this way.” Diane said, causing the girl to stop breathing briefly.

“W-what?!” she whispered loudly, eyes growing wide.

“Yeah and um don’t freak out, but he’s looking directly at you. No pressure though!” Molly said, giving her a rough pat on her back as she offered the girl a smile. The (h/c) haired girl glared up at her. As Fred grew closer, their voices grew quieter.

“Why wouldn’t that make me nervous?!” she said through gritted teeth as she pulled on Molly’s curls causing the girl to let out a quick ‘ow!’. She chuckled nervously. “Well, we have nothing to worry about! It’s not like he knows who I am!” she said as she relaxed some, closing her eyes as she leaned back. She heard footsteps stop in front of her causing her eyes to shoot open as she looked at the ground. Huh. Those shoes didn’t look like Ronnie’s shoes. Matter of fact, they didn’t look like Diane’s either. Or Mo- oh no. She looked up, arms folded across her abdomen self consciously as she looked up at the man in front of her. She couldn’t help but take in his appearance.

He was in a white shirt, some spots see through from what she assumed was a mix of sweat and water. His flaming hair was mostly dry but damp in some spots and he adorned a pair of sweatpants that made him look quite godly in her opinion. If she had to guess, he had just gotten back from quidditch practice. It was weird for her to be this close to him intentionally. The only time she found herself close to Fred was when they’d walk past each other in the hall or when their classes would go by each other due to a required location change for the lesson. Therefore she had never been able to see the freckles on his knuckles, the barely noticeable acne scars that adorned his forehead, or even the way his Irish spring’s shower gel smelled oh so heavenly.

“I’ve been all around the castle for weeks, months even. I think the main reason it took me so long was not only the fact that I haven’t really seen you up close before, but all the other birds claiming to be you. It was like that one muggle film, what’s it called? Cinderfeller?” he pondered for a moment looking off.

“I-it’s Cinderella.” Ronnie chimed in, giving him an awkward smile. They were all quite stunned. Although they all knew that this wild goose chase couldn’t go on forever, they didn’t expect it to be Fred of all people to approach first. They were sure (Y/n) would reveal herself on her own time but it seemed that they weren’t the only one’s getting impatient with the girl’s excuses and whys.

“Right, thank you. So I set off, making a list of every girl in our year in the castle- with the help of George and Dean of course- and we spoke to quite literally all of them. It was easy to weed out the fakes because they couldn’t answer questions related to some of the gifts I had received. So by the process of elimination that leaves you, love. Are you (Y/n)?” He said, crouching down to her level. As hues of brown met hues of (e/c) it was much too intimate for the girl to handle. She sat there, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“W-well I am a (Y/n). I’m sure there’s plenty of others in the castle!” she retorted letting out a forced laugh, wiping her sweaty palms on her skirt. Was the common room always this warm? 

“If I recall correctly, weren’t you bragging the other day about being the only (Y/n) in the castle? You said and I quot-” a quick stomp of (Y/n)’s foot on Diane’s caused the blonde to quickly stop whatever she was in the middle of saying. Fred looked down at the (h/c) hair girl with a quirked brow and knowing smirk. She was caught red handed. Without another word, he quickly pulled her off the couch with ease, dragging her along with him. She tried protesting and looking at her friends for help but they all simply waved and smiled at her, making kissy faces and noises. ‘Idiots’ she thought as she rolled her eyes. Fred continued to guide her, the path to where they were going looking awfully familiar until they arrived at the astronomy tour.

“Listen Fred, I just wanna say I’m sorry. I know you were probably expecting (Y/n) to be someone who looks like Diane, or hell, even Molly’s dumbass but I’m not. I’m just me.” She began as she walked to the edge, looking off the balcony. “I know now that you’ve seen me you’re probably disappointed. I’ve seen the girls you hang around all the time and they’re bloody gorgeous and-”

“So are you.” he whispered, causing her to whip her head around quickly.

“Pardon?” she responded with glassy eyes. The girl wasn’t too sure why her eyes began to water from three simple words. They weren’t the usual three words that cause or evoke such an emotional response but they felt like the missing piece of a puzzle. Her eyes followed the lanky guy as he walked over to her, tucking a few pieces of hair behind her ear as he interlocked their hands. Long, skinny and defined calloused hands meeting her soft thicker but smaller ones.

“So. Are. You. Beauty is such a fluid thing. There’s no one way to be beautiful, lovely. Museums have many unique and beautiful forms of art and so does life.” He let his hands wander on her sides, gliding up and down her love handles, waist, and hips. He took one of his hands to tilt her head up oh so gently. “If you were a sculpture, you’d be made of the finest of marble by the most talented of sculptors. Hell, if I wasn’t so bloody bad with art I’d sculpt you myself but I don’t think I’d be doing you much justice. It’d be a monstrosity.” he said, shuddering at the idea of him doing anything art related. (Y/n) found herself giggling at that.

“If only you applied this verbiage to your coursework. Perhaps you’d actually be doing decent.” she remarked as she continued to laugh. Fred gasped a bit before joining in as well with his own laughter. As the laughter died down, he lifted a hand caressing her cheek, thumb sweeping across the smooth skin. She found his eyes to see they were filled with adoration. “Fred Weasley, are you whipped for me?” she spoke softly as if she had said it any louder, that he’d simply disappear.

“I have been since the first time I saw you.” He responded, his own cheeks flushing a bit with a light crimson. She looked at him puzzled a bit before her eyes widened slightly.

“You remember that? That was months ago!” she noted. He grinned at that, pulling her closer.

“Of course I do. Imagine my delight when I found out that beautiful girl who slammed the blinds shut on me happened to be the girl my heart was slowly going out to with every note and kind gesture you sent my way. Merlin is definitely on my side.  Although I must be honest,” he looked away for a bit before lookin back at her. “The list was a huge help, but I also couldn’t help but overhear your conversation in the hallway that day. However I knew then wasn’t the right time to approach you, I assumed you would’ve just been more upset over the fact I was eavesdropping a bit.” he mumbled. She opened her mouth to question what conversation before she recalled what she had said to Molly that day in the hallway.

“Let me finish Molly. When he says that, he probably means some tall leggy blonde like Diane. I’m just me.” she lets out a dry chuckle, sniffing as she wipes at the tears streaming. “Sure, I find me beautiful, you guys find me beautiful, but the world doesn’t. I don’t look like anyone he’s ever been with before. Fred is always surrounded by tons of gorgeous women. If he saw me, he’d only be disappointed. If I gave myself to him and he rejected me, I couldn’t live with myself. Now I see what my mom was talking about.”

“Hearing you speak so lowly about yourself upset me quite a bit. I wanted to plan out what I was going to say a bit more and also make sure it was actually you.”

“I’m sorry you had to hear me say those things about myself. I usually don’t say such things like that, I’m very confident in the way I look. To me, fat and ugly aren’t synonymous but I know everyone isn’t so open minded.” she admitted, dropping her gaze to the ground. “I’m also new to this whole feelings thing. You’re the first guy I’ve ever had feelings for.”

Now, it was Fred’s turn to become speechless. He couldn’t believe his ears, he had the honor, no, the privilege of being the first guy to be such a sublime goddess of a woman? He felt his ears heat up and he knew he had to look absolutely ridiculous. “I don’t blame you, I am one hell of a guy!” He said, flexing his arms as he flashed her a cheeky grin. (Y/n) scoffed some, shoving him away as she rolled her eyes playfully. She pondered for a second before standing on her tippy toes planting a kiss on his cheek...or at least that’s what she had planned. Fred being Fred turned his head last moment wrapping his arms around her waist as he pressed his lips into hers. She gasped softly, chills running up her spine again as her body tensed.

Even this was her first time having a kiss, she could tell this was a feeling she’d be craving nonstop. (Y/n) wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling Fred down to her height. The ginger boy smirked into the kiss, trailing his hands all along her soft frame practically melting at the feeling. His hands snaked their way down to her ass, cupping the pillowy flesh between his large hands causing the (y/h/h) to moan softly. The Gryffindor pulled away, biting and pulling her bottom lip along with him.

“So, I have a question for you then…”He started, pressing his forehead against hers. She felt the warmth of his minty breathe hit her face as she looked into his eyes expectantly. “Do I really have a tendency to go to the right when I play quidditch? Because in my opinio-”

“Fred! Really?!”

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 26, part two

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff)

Warning! Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Content note: This episode has a lot of lightning, but this post does not have lightning flashes--I’m using mostly stills for those parts, or I’ve snipped out the unfriendly frames before giffing.

Qing-Jie

Having successfully ruined Jin Guangshan’s party plan to get the Yin Tiger seal, Wei Wuxian dashes off to tell Wen Qing where her brother is. She hops up to hit the road with him, but then sorta-faints because she’s starving. In a rare moment of tenderness between these two, he catches her and gently sits her down again. 

Normally they’re busy out-toughing each other, both before and after this moment, but right now Wen Qing is openly vulnerable. Wei Wuxian responds to that, predictably, with all of his kindness and with his usual slew of unwise, impossible-to-keep promises.

As she eats the bread he’s brought her--a parallel to an important piece of bread in his early life--he says they have to believe in Wen Ning’s survival. Cut to: Wen Ning, not surviving. 

I mean, yes, yes, he’s only mostly dead, but he’s never going to be fully alive again, so.  

24 Hour Party People

Back at the party, Jin Guangyao, deliberately, I think, goes to offer his pops a drink while his pops is still super furious and looking for someone to take it out on. The servant lady is like, better you than me, pal, and helps JGY get his drink ready. Pops, predictably, knocks the drink onto Jin Guangyao.

(more behind the cut)

Lan Xichen is standing by with a hanky and a face full of worry. Lan Xichen is so Lanny that he thinks JGY needs to go change clothes after getting clear alcohol spilled on him, rather than just letting it evaporate and smelling pleasantly of booze for the rest of the evening like a normal party guest. 

JGY launches into a criticism of Wei Wuxian, which Lan Wangji listens to very carefully, frowning. Lan Xichen, Nie Huasang and Jiang Cheng listen as well, and don’t speak up. 

A Clear Conscience

Then Lan Wangji *literally* steps out of his brother’s shadow, and speaks in defense of Wei Wuxian. This right here is Lan Wangji’s turning point, as far as I’m concerned. Xichen is gazing at JGY, totally on board with JGY’s spin of the situation, and his shadow falls away from Lan Wangji’s face as LWJ steps forward.

Lan Wangji says, isn’t what WWX said true? JGY puts on his customer service smile and says that the truth isn’t something you’re supposed to go around saying out loud. 

I’d like to say this is what’s wrong with cultivator society but this is really a universal human thing; every society has rules about upsetting the social order, and they are very frequently at odds with basic compassion and morality. 

Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng stay silent but Lan Xichen goes and throws Wei Wuxian under the bus carriage, saying his character has changed. 

Lan Wangji nods decisively at this, and bows to Lan Xichen, silently asking permission to follow Wei Wuxian. Lan Xichen grants permission, telling Lan Wangji to do his best. Lan Xichen probably thinks he and Lan Wangji are in agreement, in this moment, but that nod of Lan Wangji’s was nothing of the kind.

That nod was Lan Wangji agreeing with himself; he is going to try to bring Wei Wuxian back but he is also going to listen to him.  Meanwhile Lan Xichen is tying himself in knots to appease Jin Guangyao. The divergence between the brothers will just grow, from this point onwards.

Lan Wangji leaves to go follow his boyfriend conscience, while Jiang Cheng continues to silently listen to the commentary of others, and gets so mad he crushes a wine cup.

It Was A Dark and Stormy Night.

Wen Qing and Wei Wuxian arrive at the prison camp, and the first person they encounter is Granny, with a defaced Wen Banner in her hand and Wen Yuan on her back. 

Whenever I read a meta or a fic that talks about how the juniors are so sweet partly because they are “untouched by the war” I want to point to this moment. A-Yuan endures an absolute truckload of war trauma by the time he’s four years old, and while Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji both deserve a lot of credit for saving him at great risk to themselves, Granny and Uncle Four are the first heroes of A-Yuan’s story. His kind, mellow personality has a lot in common with theirs. 

This is followed by an eternity of Wen Qing running around asking if anyone’s seen her brother. Eventually Wei Wuxian gets tired of this and gathers the guards together, threatening them with Chenqing. 

He doesn’t need to play it; just holding it up has every Jin dude instantly kneeling and scared. 

The guards send him and Wen Qing go to a giant field of corpses, where Wen Qing runs around checking to see if any of them is her brother. Wei Wuxian starts off kind of detached and angry, but eventually snaps out of it, tucks away his flute and starts helping her to search. 

Wen Qing finds Wen Ning, mostly-dead with a lure flag speared into his belly. Wei Wuxian grimly takes in the situation from across the field of corpses. 

When he arrives at Wen Qing’s side he sees this talisman in Wen Ning’s hand. 

This is the talisman that Wei Wuxian made for Wen Ning back in Gusu summer school, before the war. It’s the one that Wen Ning was wearing at his waist when they met up after the massacre of Lotus Pier. It’s supposed to literally protect Wen Ning from having his spiritual consciousness snatched, as well as being a symbol of Wei Wuxian’s sense of responsibility for, and affection for, Wen Ning. 

Wei Wuxian, understandably, loses his shit at this point. Less understandably, he is about to decide that the best way to express his sorrow and rage is to re-animate the corpse of his friend, right in front of the corpse’s sister. Like, seriously, dude. Dude. 

Ghost General

This super-questionable decision leads to one of the most badass sequences in the show, which is unfortunately chock full of lightning flashes, so not everyone can watch it. Wei Wuxian and his flute and swirls of resentful energy come marching out of the darkness of the corpse field, back to the guards. 

The guards have decided to slaughter all of the prisoners and then run away, which would be a good plan except they should really have skipped right to the running away part of things. When Wei Wuxian accuses them of killing the prisoner in the corpse field, they claim that the Wens have a habit of falling off of a hill and dying. Wei Wuxian can relate. 

At this point Wei Wuxian summons up Wen Ning 2.0, ultra badass edition, who comes flying through the air with his odd, straight-armed fighting stance and cool solid-black eyes and rock-and-roll hair. 

Soundtrack: *Four Sticks*

Wen Ning proceeds to whale on the guards and scare the shit out of his relatives.

Then Wen Qing shows up and begs Wei Wuxian to stop. She explains that Wen Ning is only mostly dead. Like, if he was fully dead would she be okay with this? 

Wei Wuxian tries to reel Wen Ning in and realizes that he is not actually in control of Wen Ning. Ok, see, right from the first day of Wen Ning 2.0, WWX is aware that his control is iffy. Why does he think he’s going to be able to control him later? 

Anyway, this is where we learn Wen Ning’s grown-up name is Wen Qionglin. Wei Wuxian yells this name, and Wen Ning looks up like a cat hearing the “food noise,” and then proceeds to get control of himself. 

This is such a nice symbolic moment, that will be replayed later in the temple, when Wen Ning saves Jin Ling from Baxia. 

Wen Ning has a remote-code-execution OS vulnerability throughout the story; his soul is at risk of being stolen, and he is magically controlled by Wei Wuxian, Xue Yang, Su She, and Baxia.  Meanwhile Wen Qing, Wei Wuxian, and random kids on the street mostly treat him as a child, despite his clear adult capabilities. Wen Ning’s journey in The Untamed is at least partly about asserting his full adulthood, and his ability to overcome magical control is directly connected to that journey.  

After getting Wen Ning to chill, Wei Wuxian calls the floating resentful energy back into his own body, which looks about as comfortable as swallowing a burp. 

On the plus side, apparently resentful energy keeps your hair dry even when it’s raining.

Wei Wuxian should take a page from the guards’ book and slaughter all the Jin witnesses to this situation, but he decides to be the better person and let them live. They go running off down the road, where they encounter Lan Wangji and give him the 411, saying that Wei Wuxian resurrected dead people.

Meanwhile Wei Wuxian collects Wen Qing--half-fainted, again, in an echo of the start of their journey--and collects the Dafan Mountain Wen group, who are hiding, wisely. When they see Wen Ning, Uncle Four and some others start to freak out, but Wei Wuxian tells them that fierce corpses are cool, and they all grab horses and mount up.

Where Are You Going?

Lan Wangji is waiting for them, nonconfrontationally indulging in some visual poetry while he waits. 

In a show where every prop is exquisitely, carefully designed to enhance our understanding character, his Gusu-toned umbrella reveals surprising red and yellow threads woven in, right above his eye line as he looks at Wei Wuxian. 

Wei Wuxian speaks first, saying “you came to stop me?” Lan Wangji doesn’t answer, but asks him where he’s going. Then Lan Wangji warns him that he’s about to abandon orthodoxy forever, if he follows through. 

Wei Wuxian challenges this idea of orthodoxy, asking if Lan Wangji remembers the promise they made together, back in Gusu. It’s worth noting that they both appear to think of it as a co-promise, even though Lan Wangji didn’t speak aloud at the time. 

The conversation will continue in the next episode, because what’s better than a rainy romantic cliffhanger?

Soundtrack: Four Sticks by Led Zeppelin

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

I feel like twst Aurora would meet y/n by walking through the forest. Sorta like when Aurora meets Phillip in the original movie

(*Me, dancing like a duck*)

Twst Aurora/Sleeping Beauty Idea For Anybody To Read

(Song is from Hadestown, Flowers)

(Y/N) was given homework for Mr. Crewels class to find the native flowers of Twisted Wonderland. She would of gone to the botanical gardens for her research. If only it wasn't crowded with other students. So her best bet was either the mountains or the forest. The forest was the best option.

After finding a few flowers and writing them down on the note book she brought with her. Her mind wanders off to Yuu and Grim, hoping they were doing alright with finishing the assignment, if not, she could always share her notes with them.

"I wonder. I wonder... I wonder why each little bird has a someone. To sing to sweet things to. A gay little love melody."

A song starts travel through the air. Soft and sweet, gentle and wistful. It was quite simple and romantic song, the person who was singing was quite good. The song starts to end.

"I wonder, I wonder.. If my heart keeps singing. Will my song go winging. To someone who'll find me. And bring back a love song to me.."

(Y/N) sighs gently at the song, holding her book close to her chest. "Oh, that was beautiful.." She whispers, acting as if she was a maiden in love. Enchanted by the beautiful singing, (Y/N) applauds to the singer. Wherever they may be.

Carefully, (Y/N) gets up from her sitting position and pats down her casual clothes. Nothing too casual though, just a simple white ruffled off-the-shoulder smocked shirt and a (f/c) skirt that went to her ankles. The girl wanted to wear something else, but she didn't have much clothes. So this was her best bet. Hints of dirt smear at the bottom of her skirt, but she could care less.

Heading deeper into the woods. (Y/N) does her best not to trip on some trees roots and killing the urge to jump into piles of leaves. Finding the next flower was easy enough. It reminded her of a song back in her world. Humming the tune under her breath, she said a few peices of the song.

"Lily white and poppy red... Nothing gonna wake you now.."

Humming the instrumental bit, (Y/N) looks over her notes. Nodding at the small flower, she sees a patch of the last flower she needed to find. Poking at one of the small buds, she closes the book after. Placing it down on the grassy floor as she leaned against a old tree. Picking up a red flower from the ground and twirled into between her fingertips while the once crimson petals flutter to the ground, leaving only a stem.

"Dreams are sweet, until there not.. Flowers bloom until they rot and fall apart.. Is anybody listening? I open my mouth and nothing comes out. Nothing, nothing gonna wake me now!"

(Y/N) smiles, that one part of the song always made it harder for her to sing. If only she sang it right the last few times she tried. Maybe she wouldnt have her voice crack from all those failed attempts. 'Oh well,' she thought.

"Flowers, I remember fields. Of flowers, soft beneath my heels. Walking in the sun, I remember someone. Someone by my side. Turned his face to mine."

"And then I turned away, into the shade.." The female puts her hand out to feel the warmth of the sun light on her skin. "You, the one I left behind. If you ever walk this way. Come and find me lying in the bed I made." (Y/N) finished, a reminiscent look of longing in her eyes.

"Well, that should be the last of it." Picking up her book, she stands straight and re-reads through the notes as she walks back to campus. Until she bumps into a tree, not looking where she was going. "Ow." Rubbing her forehead, the dull throb ceases for a little bit.

"I thought I heard something?" A voice said not to far from her. (Y/N) turns around, only to be met with nothing? "I guess it was nothing." The person said sadly.

(Y/N) peeks behind the tree she bumped into. A young boy around her age sat underneath a tree. Wearing a simple white shirt with a black buttoned vest and light grey pants. His head covered in curly locks of golden sunshine hair and lips red as a rose. Little birdies and forest critters surround him as he talks with them about a dream he had.

He seemed to be caught up in his own little world. Reminding her of a certain someone back on her college grounds.

Not wanting to bother him with her presence. (Y/N) decided to find another route to get back to Night Raven. The young male starts to hum a familiar tone she heard earlier. 'So he was the singer! Dang, he's got range.'

"You have a nice voice!" (Y/N) said aloud, regret sinks into her gut once she heard him gasp. "Who, who are you? Where are you?" (Y/N) slaps her forehead because of her own stupidity.

"Dammit!"

The male winced at the sound and her voice. "A-are you alright?" "I'm fine! I'm fine! Just.."

"I'm dumb, really, really, dumb." Sighing, (Y/N) apologized for speaking to him and frightening him. Not moving from her spot. "It's, okay. I can tell from your voice that you didn't mean it."

"Oh, good.. But I meant what I said. Your voice is really amazing!" "O-oh? Thank you."

The little woodlan creatures watch the boy, his rosy cheeks reddening. Some of the birdies fly over to where the girl hid herself. Chirping at her in awe, certainly she was fit for him in their eyes. (Y/N) looks up to see the birds and gets the wrong message. "I guess I overstayed my welcome, I should get going anyway."

(Y/N) hums the song she sang before and starts to move her feet. "Wait! Please wait!" Freezes and questions him for why he didn't want her to leave. "You were singing too, right?"

"I heard your voice before. You sang about flowers, didn't you?"

"I.. I did. Why you askin'?"

[Twst Aurora] gulps back his shyness. "I think you have a beautiful voice too." [Twst Aurora] stated, standing in front of the tree (Y/N) hid behind. "..." The NRC student goes silent.

[Twst Aurora] heard a twig snap and looks down to see two pairs of shoes emerge from behind the tree. Slowly looking up, he sees a young girl around his age standing in front of him. A soft grin on her lips. "Thanks, as I said before, your pretty good yourself."

Blush coated the girls cheek as the two were face to face. Wanting to step closer to him, she takes a step back instead. Suddenly, out of nowhere. A few apple blossom petals fell on her hair and nose. Shocked giggles espaces her lips as more flower petals fell on her. Looking up, she sees little birds and squirrels squeezed together as they look down at them from a branch.

The male only stares at her smile and listens to her melodious laughter. A light hearted grin settled on his red lips. His heart fluttering like a birds wing.

(Ask box is open! Dang this is very sappy, someone draw this romantic display! I'm joking lol! Also, the reason why (Y/N)'s words are in bold, and [Twst Aurora] aren't. Is because the songs are supposed to contrast with one another.)

[partyinthemysterymachine]

Harry 9, 11, 12 or die

hawwy masin stabby tiem

Humiliating Memories

Harry was (is) just one of those types that loves the library. he went cavorting about in many sections, but there was one book in particular he got interested in when it was referenced in a few others detailing the art of letter-writing and communication in ye olde days.

Lord Byron's letters were so fucking astounding. the first part of the humiliation was having to face the librarian to check out the book in the first place. that was the last time he stared her in the face for about seven full months (as well as training himself in masterful avoidance). unfortunately, he also had to Mission Impossible the book away from his parents knowing about it - as they were big fans of making their son turn out his backpack every day Just In Case of Nefarious Behaviors (but also what are you reading, young nerd) - and by some will of Lord Byron himself, he made it out unscathed.

then, humiliation part two: school (in which Harry continues to make questionable, however nerdy, choices)

Harry thought it'd be a cool writing exercise, or like, funny? or like, a.. memory.. retention.. ? exercise..???? we just don't know. but the fact of the matter is (was) that he chose to copy the letters down word for word during classes. he was a.. eehhh.. a B-average student, and teachers liked him enough to leave him alone most days.

except one day, when a particular substitute had a hair up his ass.

all this substitute saw was Harry totally in The Zone, writing like the wind at his desk. he stood there over him for a moment until Harry noticed and looked up at the stern frown of a twenty-five-year-old substitute teacher with some kinda hose stuck up his asshole pumping him blackout drunk on the tiniest amount of power given to him as being a substitute teacher and thus The Authority Around Here. no questions were asked - this teacher was certain Harry was writing notes to someone else and demanded he get up and take his paper to the front of the class and read it aloud.

it was that day that that teacher learned that perhaps they're wrong sometimes; and that Harry Mason, while red as marinara sauce, was a dedicated young man - one that was all too happy to enact some petty revenge by reading aloud the two pages of "notes" even after the substitute asked him to stop. ("But you said to read it all out loud.")

it would’ve been even better and worse for both of them if the principal or another teacher came around to walk right into a scene with the timing of a bad sitcom - but eh, maybe next time.

the other one he remembers when he’s just trying to have a good day is that one time he insisted on pronouncing ‘horchata’ as ‘whore-chata’. definite emphasis on the ‘whore’ part. and he said it so confidently in front of Jodi’s aunt, too. (he should’ve never fucking believed that so-called library ‘tutor’ who always showed up smelling like skunks.)

Bad or petty habits

bad habits

does “talking too much” count here as a bad habit? yanno it goes here and it also goes in a “nervous tics” category so yeah, definitely talks too much

[REDACTED]

smoking. he doesn’t smoke as heavily as he used to way back when, but he’s still clearing a pack every couple of months. whoops.

manipulating conversations. he’s a sneaky one, that Harry Mason. (maybe Vincent had a point there..?)

rub his face really hard when he’s writing/reading over his work. it sorta feels good (kinda like how scratching inside ur ear can be heavenly, but this is with roughly maneuvering his skin around), and it can distract him, or get him momentarily “addicted” to it

car band. catch him going ham on the air drums and ‘singing’ at a red light. does not care if he’s caught. absolutely will sing/play at to whoever caught him. Heather can and will kill him some day

definitely cursing. he curbs it in the right situations but goddamn dude wash your mouth out

spacing out and chewing on a fork/spoon/straw/what have you. he’ll hold it or let it just dangle from his mouth, chewing/sucking on it while his mind goes somewhere else

sit at the piano, prop his elbow on the music shelf, space out (aka thinking, usually about his writing), and repeatedly hit one damn key over and over and over. he presses it, lets it fade.. and just before it’s gone, BING....... .... BING...... it drives Heather batshit.

petty habits

backing up when someone is standing too close (aka tailgating) to him in line, like at a grocery store. Harry tends to casually back up until he steps on the other person’s feet, then look back meaningfully and "apologize.” for people standing too close beside him, he’ll shake out his shoulders and very much flop his elbow into the other person; then look over and quip a bit loudly, “Feeling a little claustrophobic around here, huh?” stay out of his goddamn personal space!

kick Heather from the wifi when she’s being a snot, and change just one (1) random character on the password, or add one (1) more character - or even both! - just to fuck with her. good luck u lil shit.

copy/pasting three pages of text from a random book (usually something obnoxious like Les Miserables, Gone With The Wind, Anna Karenina, The Silmarillion, Clan of the Cave Bear, etc) to his document before he sends it to Maggie (editor/agent) when she’s on his case about reaching his word/page/chapter count

use his right hand for a task he’s been asked to do if someone’s bothering him enough (he is a left-handed)

shuffle a pile of papers or pamphlets so that some of them are upside down, flipped over, or both when he doesn’t like the establishment, or the people that are there - and always leaves the first two or five as they should be, because they trust too much

pay in cash, then ask for cashiers to count back change if they’re making their bad personality or day his problem, knowing that many people do not know how to count back change.

Grudges or vendettas

grudges

that first publishing company that was ready to drop him after his book did less than expected, and was also trying to punish Maggie for it. sometimes he’ll slip a dedication to them into a book - which Maggie sometimes will nix - just to rub it in that he’s doing better without them.

when a kid in middle school made fun of his widow’s peak hairline, telling him he looked like Dracula - and another kid said he looked like Mickey Mouse. when he told his parents about it and how he was upset, they told him that he was too sensitive. in fact, when he was taunted in front of his parents when they picked him up from school, his dad didn’t defend him - he looked down at Harry a block later and said, “I see why they call you Mickey Mouse.” never will forgive that.

in high school, gave a friend $5 to buy a specific candy for him at the corner store, said the friend could buy a candy with the $5 too, and asked to have the change. friend came back already eating the candy Harry requested and handed him something entirely different, citing he “accidentally” opened the one Harry asked for, so just decided to eat it. oh, and he “dropped” most of the change he got back. whatever, dude.

the miserable old fucker at McDonalds who told Heather, after she politely asked for a certain kid’s meal toy (and they both saw him give the same one to a kid who asked for it), that they were all out now - sorry! Heather took the toy she got anyway, but Harry saw the dickhead drop the exact toy she wanted into another kid’s happy meal box. Heather never knew, but oh, Harry’s still daydreaming how he should’ve responded.

around the age of 37, he was beginning to put on weight, and struggled with his appearance and confidence. customer behind him in line at a bakery/coffee shop who, after seeing him ask for several pastries in a box and an indulgent “coffee” drink, loudly mentioned, “I hope you’ll be SHARING with somebody! That’s a lot of cake and food for one person! SO much sugar and fat!” he was shocked wordless. he had to wait for his drink, holding the box of pastries the whole time. he could feel her staring at him (and saw her out of his peripheral vision) and looking quite expectant and smug. Harry just kept his head down and rushed out after getting the drink. he quickly drove away, but then pulled into a different parking lot a few streets down, parked the car, and cried. the pastries weren’t all for him - he’d gotten Heather a couple. but only 2 were for Heather out of the 6 purchased (and 5 of those would be hidden away in his drawers, so it’d look like he only got 1 for himself in front of Heather); and that hit him pretty hard after such a long week.

vendetta

silent fucking hill you got a big storm comin so open fuckin wide to suck this COCK

[pa-panda-heroes]

The LoV with a s/o who's easuly Flustered and likes to read books when they're on break from missions? 👉🏻👈🏻 Love your blog! 💞 Have some ice cream for your great writing! 🍧🍨🍦

Aaaa thank you! You are so sweet I’m going to get a cavity 😭 thank you so much, cutie!! I hope you like it

~🐼

LoV with a s/o who’s easily flustered!

Tomura:

At first he would find it strange. Why do you get tinted kinda reddish and quiet when he tries to make eye contact with you? He has to give you details on the mission, dammit!

And why would you read, when you could do something more engaging like playing video games? He doesn’t get it.

But the more he sees you read and the more he sees how you react to certain things, the more he kinda soaks it in. Welp, that’s just how you are. Okay, then.

But why does he like watching you? Why does he enjoy the sight of your lips pursing in concentration or eyebrows furrowing at something he doesn’t know abou while you’ve got a book in your hands? Is he curious?

No, he finds it absolutely adorable. When he realizes that, he’ll do whatever he can to fluster you, so that he can see your eyes dart everywhere but at him and watch you shrink into yourself. Maybe he enjoys watching you toy with a stand of hair, or whatever clothing you’re wearing that minute.

At some point you have to ask yourself if he’s a sadist for it all, because we will tease you if he’s in a good mood, but in reality he just enjoys a reaction from someone that isn’t disgust. You’re so soft as a person and it’s a huge contrast to himself and he fucking loves it.

His favorite thing ever is to rest his cheek on your sternum with an arm under the back of your neck, playing a video game with both hands at your left shoulder. All while you’ve got a book propped atop his back with your arms underneath his own, both your legs and his a mess tangled together. It’s uncomfortable for your both, but it allows you to be so close.

Other times, he’ll often watch over your shoulder and read snippets of your book out of curiosity to see what you like, if he gets the chance. Maybe, just maybe, you can convince him to read the same novel, but what he really wants is for you to read aloud to him.

He wants to hear your voice without interruptions, to hear how the intricate words fall from your lips as you read, even to hear your goofy dialogue impressions. It’s so relaxing and he adores it. He’ll even crack a little smile while you’re doing it.

Your reading to him eventually becomes nearly the only thing that can put him to sleep. His head on your chest, arm wrapped around your waist, and legs kicked out to entangle with yours as he listens to your voice - he’s in heaven!

He’s so happy that someone as adorable and soft as you actually had eyes for someone like him, and he’s more than thankful for it!

Mr. Compress:

Loves it! He finds it so precious that you get so flustered so easily. And while he’d never make you uncomfortable or even try to fluster you on purpose, he’s still going to enjoy it when it happens.

I can definitely see Mr. being a bookworm himself, honestly, his favorite maybe being of a historical or possibly magical nature.

You like horror? Okay. Romance? Cool. Medieval fantasy? Alright. It really doesn’t matter what you enjoy, he’ll ask for recommendations. If you enjoy it, he will certainly enjoy it with you.

Deadass would sit next you and pull out his own book during a break while you’re on a mission. You have to wonder where the hell it came from, but then you remember he’s a magician, after all. And of course, there’s his actual quirk to consider.

Mr would get flustered relatively easily, but for him the perfect time to be flustered is while you’re flustered, too! Strangely enough, he thinks it sorta brings you closer together, kinda like sharing a crépe or ice cream. It’s no different than being happy at the same time, or sad, or even angry. You’re feeling the same thing at the same time, and get to experience and work through it together. How neat is that?

He doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable around him, but he’ll still enjoy it when you get all flustered. He notices all too easily the blood rush to your ears when he reaches in close to pull a coin “out” of your ear, or the slight squeak you make when his gloved fingers accidentally brush against the cartilage of it. Well, sometimes accidentally!

Seeing you get flustered like that will usually fluster him, too. Does he really have such an endearing effect on someone so adorable and shy, as the extroverted and boisterous Mr. Compress?

He’ll constantly ask permission to do something before actually doing it and risking making you uncomfortable. Is he allowed to wrap an arm around you? Are you okay with him touching more than just your ear for a trick? Mr. is determined to get consent first and to make sure if you change your mind, he knows it!

Loves it if you let him read to you. He’s an entertainer, remember? It’s in his gears to put on a show and entertain someone - he doesn’t want to be entertained! His favourite way to read to you is with his back leaning against the wall or headboard if there is one, while you’ve rested the back of your head on his shoulder and sat between his legs.

Himiko:

Himiko is not easily flustered! And while she likes books, they’re not her favorite pastime.

That said, she loves getting you all flustered. She won’t be cruel about it, it’s always in good fun and not regarding anything you could be sensitive about, but it happens really often.

The more flustered she gets you, the more flustered she looks as the blood rushes to her cheeks and ears because she’s so happy and you’re so cute!! She’ll grin at you spunkily when she does, but her eyes have a slightly sultry tint to them.

Her favorite way to get you all flustered is by touching you! She’s quite clingy physically, so naturally she’s gonna be all over you! She’ll latch onto and nuzzle your neck like it’s the sole reason she’s breathing - accidentally restricting your own breathing all the while.

She’s not much of a reader herself, but she’s going to ask all kinds of questions about the book she happens to see you reading. What genre is it? What’s the main character like? Does a character die? Is it a happy novel, or a sad one?

If you enjoy it, she’ll want to learn about it just for the sake of hearing you teach her about something you enjoy or are passionate about, despite not indulging in it herself. She wants to know what makes you tick, and sifting through your likes will help her do that.

Himiko will sit next to you and snuggle up against your side while you’re reading on your break - even if you shyly protest. If time permits, she’ll relax and let let the sound of your breathing accompanied with the turning of pages slowly lull her to sleep.

Though if she doesn’t have time, she’ll instead stare at your face, whether it contorts or not at whatever you’re reading. If you notice and blush at her, she won’t stop! She’ll just continue to stare at you.

If you ask to read to her, she’ll accept, sure, but she won’t really pay attention. Her focus is you! Not a story! You’re part of her own story, now, she doesn’t care about anything fictional. She has you.

She’ll instead watch your eyebrows turn up or furrow as your eyes are drifting through the page, lips moving and articulating syllables of your language. She’ll watch every blink of your eyes, enamored by the sparkle in them with one of her own. She’ll always have her head in your lap or on your chest!

Twice:

Not as easily flustered as Mr. Compress, but if someone pushes enough, they can do it!

He’s not big on books, like Toga, but reslly loves having a s/o who is.

Oh, you can read about an imaginary world where society isn’t defined by heroes vs. villains, and quirks don’t exist and someone’s entire life isn’t dictated by what kind of shitshow they won in the quirk genetics lottery? Sounds neat! Tell him about it!

The more different the world of the book you’re indulging in is, the more he’s interested in hearing about it from you! He’ll take in everything you tell him about whatever you’re reading. Most of the time, it gives him a good grasp on what kind of society he really wants.

Of course, his favorite part about your telling him about your books is how excited you get, how enthralled you are in its mysteries if it has any, how you seem to pick it apart and predict (or try to predict) what will happen next!

Of course, if you go on a tangent and realize you’ve done so, becoming flustered as a result, he’ll beam at you to keep going! Or, he’ll go on his own tangent worshipping the ground you walk on, which, naturally, makes you more flustered - and that encourages him.

You’re like the diamond in the rough - so sweet and fragile-seeming - that he can’t help but be drawn to you!

Any sign of embarrassment (the not-so-fun kind) or shift in your mood will get him all riled up and cause him to do whatever he can to fix the situation, if possible. Oftentimes, he makes it worse, but he tries his hardest, really!

Because he wants to watch out for you! You’re so adorable, and even if you’re fully capable of taking care of yourself physically, he’ll 100% be right next to you to step in!

I can’t really see Twice sitting down and letting you read to him or reading on his own (too quiet - a good opportunity for his trauma to strike), but he’ll still love hearing about what you’re reading. Maybe he’ll sit next to you with a cigarette in between his fingers, eyes drifting to the pages as he listens to your voice reading aloud and whatever environmental voices are sounding at the moment.

Dabi:

The bastardest bastard of them all!

A flustered Dabi is a nonexistent Dabi. Nope. It doesn’t matter what you say to him, the man’s made of unflusterable, unflinching steel.

He will do everything in his power to tease you and fluster the living daylights out of you, though. It’ll range from snarky or sultry comments to actually touching - or groping - you in various places. He’ll relish in any cute protest you send his way.

His favorite time to strike is when you’re in casual conversation with any of the other members and your guard is down. You’re smiling and content, not shying out, and having a good time.

Welp, not if Dabi can have a say in it! He’ll give your ass a slap or make a snarky comment insinuating your “neglecting” him and wrap his arms around your waist, nuzzling his nose into your neck and letting his particularly hot breath ghost across your neck. He’ll simper at the bumps that arise on your skin as he feels your muscles tense underneath him.

He’ll do whatever he can to interrupt your reading, not really giving a shit if you’re really enjoying your book or lose your page. His interruptions range from whispering in your ear to yanking the book from your hands and keeping it away from your grasp.

Dabi won’t care to hear about what you’re reading; he’ll usually zone out if you try to immerse him into your favourite pastime or read to him. And he definitely won’t read for you, either.

But nonetheless, he’ll find your habit cute. It’s not watching you that does it for him, or even how giddy you get talking about your stories. It’s the fact that someone dating a dastardly villain like himself, a criminal capable of setting fire to everything around him, so purely enjoys such a common hobby. He’s not common, he knows that. You’re special, he knows that very well. But reading a book? So many people do that. It’s what normal people do.

He loves to watch you cover your cheeks at his suggestive comments, or hop around him to pry your book from his hand. Maybe he’ll set it alight in blue flames to get a good, loud squeal of desperation out of you.

But hell hath no fury like a Dabi whose s/o was teased or flustered by anyone but him.

If you’re reading at home, away from the others, you can bet he’ll drop his head in your lap. It’s nothing sweet and loving, he needs a pillow to nap on! But if you try to get him to move, he’ll grumble and turn on his side, staying put.

Spinner:

Hands down the easiest of them all to get flustered. So yeah, he understands your pain!

Spinner won’t really go out of his way to make you all flustered and set you off, because he knows sometimes that can be embarrassing and not fun if someone goes too far, but that doesn’t mean he dislikes seeing you flustered!

Seeing you blink rapidly and sputter out syllables meant to be a string of words you haven’t found yet is absolutely adorable to him. You’re such a contrast to everyone else, so innocent and pure. After all, there’s a girl who drinks blood for her quirk and a habitual arsonist who’s nothing but sarcasm and insults. Needless to say, Spinner is glad to have you around!

When someone decides they want to make your life hell, he’ll usually step between you and the other party with a scowl and hands on his hips, as if to protect you. Well, yeah. Of course he’s gonna look out for you! Aside from keeping you safe, he wants to look tough for you and impress you.

Like Tomura, he’s more of a video game guy, but if you’re into any kind of fantasy or any genre gaming-esque, he’ll absolutely want to hear about it! If it’s anything romantic, it’ll just fluster him. Although, if it’s horror, he’d definitely be interested

While you’re reading on break, he’ll sit next to you with a portable gaming system and click away at the buttons, occasionally glancing over at you. He can be curious without being interested... right? He might even try to get a peek at what you’re reading for himself, but Spinner won’t admit it. He’ll blow air from his nose and turn away with a scrunched face if you notice!

Spinner would get way too flustered and embarassed to read to you, but would absolutely let you read to him if you so felt like it. He might space out thinking of various things, though.

100% wants to have you in his arms while your eyes are plastered to your book. Bonus points if he gets to play video games like that, Spinner holding the controller behind your book, your back flush against his chest.

You probably couldn’t get him to read anything you suggest to him outright. You’d have to bribe him. He’ll read your book if you play his video game! If you enjoy video games, it will eventually become a habit for you both to cycle between playing video games and reading books.

And he’s not complaining! Most of his time will still be spent on video games, though. But sharing interests is how you get closer, right?

[queenlua]

You're a druid and an ex-evangelical, right? What does being a druid mean to you? How did you get from evangelicalism to where you are now? And of course feel free to ignore this if it's nosy. (sincerely, a Christian who wants to leave but who doesn't know what to do)

this is going to make me sound ignorant as hell, lol, but i'm happy to share

under a cut because this got very long, sorry, lol.

my personal progression was: "vaguely christian -> VERY christian -> christian agnostic -> agnostic/atheist -> agnostic/druid -> some sorta druid-neopagan-animist thing."  i guess i'll just go through what made me switch between each of those, and close out with some high-level thoughts that may be helpful for you?

okay, so when i was

VAGUELY CHRISTIAN,

i went to Sunday school every week because That's What You Do, and because my whole hometown was very southern Baptist, i never questioned the veracity of its teachings much... until they ran a whole weekly series on "why [x] is wrong," where [x] is some other group

e.g., we had a week on why Mormons are wrong, and i didn't bat an eye because i hadn't even known Mormons existed until that moment

then we had a week on why Muslims are wrong, and that... bothered me, because i had a friend who was Muslim, and she was just objectively a better person than me, and i was like "any universe where she goes to hell and i don't seems really fucked up"

then we had a week on why EVOLUTION was wrong, and that just absolutely threw me, because while i hadn't thought about evolution much (i think i was in fourth grade or so), it seemed common-sense? scientists thought highly of it? "adaptation over time" just seems logical?

so i went to the public library every day after school for like a week, read some Darwin and some science books, and came back to my Sunday school teacher with, like, an itemized list of objections to the whole "evolution is wrong" thing.  and he came up with some standard Answers In Genesis rebuttals, and i did more research and came back the next week with more science, and we repeated this a few times until he was like "lua, you just gotta take some things on faith"

which.  lmao.  full existential crisis time, because no matter how hard i thought, i couldn't *not* believe in the science, but i also didn't want to go to hell, so i was like "maybe if i believe SUPER HARD i will SOMEDAY be able to unbelieve the condemn-me-to-hell bits"

so i decided to become

VERY CHRISTIAN

and my frantic googling for shit like "proof of god" and "god and evolution" *eventually* broke me out of the Answers In Genesis circles of the internet, and into some decent Christian apologia, like, think First Things and various Catholic bloggers.  and there, i found some way to square my gut sense that evolution was right, with a spiritual worldview.

like, i remember finding some blogger who said:

"young earth creationists get tripped up when they try to explain stars that are millions of light-years away, and end up basically arguing that God's tricking us somehow, and—no!  my God lets you believe in the evidence of your eyes, my God does not demand that you make yourself ignorant or stupid, my God expects you to use your brain"

and i just started crying at my computer, because no one had ever said "using your brain is Good and part of God's will," i was like *finally* here's someone who won't tell me i'm going to hell for just *thinking* about things

(st. augustine does a much better riff on a similar theme, fwiw, but i only found him later)

still, it was an uneasy fit, because, the more i learned and read about world history, the more it seemed... weird... that the One And Singular Path To Salvation was... the successor to some niche desert cult... which didn't even occur at the *beginning* of written history, like, it was all predated by that whole Mithraism thing, etc... and like, sure, i could trot out all the standard theological talking points for why Actually This Makes Perfect Sense, but gut-level-wise, the aesthetics just seemed kinda dumb!  and no level of talking myself out of it made that feeling go away!

so at this point i started referring to myself as a

CHRISTIAN AGNOSTIC

i mean, not aloud.  i still lived in southernbaptistopia and i didn't want, like, my hair stylist to tell me i was a horrible person.  but in my *head* i called myself Christian agnostic and it felt right.

and i started church-hopping, which honestly was really fun, would recommend to anyone at any point.  i visited the fire-and-brimstone baptist church, the methodist church, the episcopalians, the universal unitarians, etc.

unfortunately, while this gave me *some* new perspectives, each of the places either had the same shitty theology as my old megachurch (i remember the *acute* sense of despair i felt when i was starting to jive with a methodist church... only for the dumbass youth minister to start going on about evolution), or, they just lacked any sense of the *sacred*.  like, the Church of Christ churches, with their a capella services, *definitely* had it; i felt more God there in one service than i did in a lifetime of shitty Christian rock at the megachurch.  but their beliefs were even *more* batshit, so.  big L on that one.

having failed to find a satisfactory church, i was basically

AGNOSTIC/ATHEIST

by the time i went to college, but honestly pretty unhappy about it; while it was harder than ever for me to actually *connect* with the divine, i didn't like thinking that my previous experiences of the divine were total lies.  because my shitty evangelical church, for all its faults, could not *completely* sabotage the sense of God's presence.  there were real moments in that church where i do believe i experienced something divine.  mostly mediated by one particular youth minister, who in hindsight was the only spiritual teacher in that church who didn't seem a bit rotten inside, but!  it was something!

so when i happened upon a bunch of writings on the now-defunct shii.org (that's the bit that makes me look WILDLY ignorant, lol), i was utterly captivated.

said author was a previous archdruid of the Reformed Druids of North America, an organization that was formed in the 1960s to troll the administration of Carleton College (there was a religious-service-attendance requirement; they made their own religion; their religion had whiskey and #chilltimes for its services).  however, this shii.org dude seemed to take it pretty seriously.  he was studying history of religion and blogged a lot about his studies, both academic and otherwise.  while RDNA had started out as a troll, that didn't mean they hadn't *discovered* something real in the process, he said.

this, already, was going to be innately appealing to me; i've got a soft spot for wow-we-were-doing-this-ironically-but-now-it's-kinda-real? stuff in general.

in particular, shii.org’s discussions on the separation of ritual from belief was really interesting to me: most religions/spiritualities have *both*, but like, you can do a ritual without having the Exact Right Beliefs (if there even is such a thing!), and it can still be useful to you, it can have real power.  (he had a really lovely essay, speculating on the origins of religion as just a form of art, but that essay is now lost to the sands of time, alas.)

(note that i wouldn't really recommend seeking out *recent* writing by the shii.org guy; he kinda went full tedious neoreactionary-blowhard-who-reads-a-lot-of-Spengler at some point?  sigh.)

the shii.org guy led me to checking out a bunch of books on the history of neopaganism & also books by scholars of religion in general, and the more i read, the more excited i became.  and i started doing little ritual/meditation stuff here and there.

then i was fortunate enough to attend some events with Earthspirit (this was when i lived in Boston), which cemented my hippie dalliances into something more real.  the folks there, being from Boston, were all ridiculously overeducated (a sensibility that appeals to me), but also, being the kind of folks who drive out to a mountain in the middle of nowhere for a spiritual retreat, they tolerated a full range of oddities (everyone from aging-70s-feminist-wiccans to living-on-a-farm-with-your-bros-Astaru to dude-who-started-having-weird-visions-and-is-just-trying-to-figure-out-the-deal to Nordic-spiritualist-with-two-phds-from-Scandanavian-universities-on-the-subject, etc), which gave me a lot of room to explore different types of rituals, ceremonies, "magic", etc.

(polytheism in general lends itself well to this sort of easy plurality!  i can believe other people are experiencing something real with their gods, and i can be talking to a totally different set of gods, and that’s just all very compatible, etc)

anyway, i started calling myself

AGNOSTIC/DRUID

around then, because i knew i'd found *something*, something that felt like all the realest moments i'd ever had in nature, and all the realest moments i'd ever had in that shitty megachurch, but i wasn't quite ready to put a theology to it.

but, idk, you do the thing for a while, and you start encountering some things that you may as well call gods, and you realize you're in pretty deep, and you ditch the "agnostic" bit and just throw hands and start describing yourself as

SOME SORTA DRUID-NEOPAGAN-ANIMIST THING

because that's the most precise thing you can muster.  in particular, the druid bit resonates because nature's still very much at the center of my practice; the neopagan bit resonates because i'm not especially interested in reconstructing older traditions or being faithful to any actual pre-Christian traditions, and animist resonates because what i sometimes call gods seem to be tied pretty tightly to the land itself.  it's all very experiential; all this mostly means i'm some weird chick who sometimes grabs a car and drives out someplace very lonely and hikes for a while and does some hippie shit to try and talk with the land or the god or whatever is there.  and sometimes i come back from it changed, or refocused, or what-have-you, and hopefully i'm better for it.  i'm aware this makes me look a little ridiculous, and is an unsatisfying answer, sorry!

WRT YOUR SITUATION

i don't know you or your situation, obviously, but if i wanted to give former-me some advice to save her some angst, i'd say

-> Christendom itself is far wilder and more diverse than many churches lead you to believe.  if you still want to be Christian on some level, and it's just a shitty church that's convinced you the whole project is fucked, i'd honestly explore, i dunno, your nearest Quaker meeting.  they're invoking the Holy Spirit with regularity but they're not raging douchenozzles about it.

-> if you're specifically interested in druidism, i found John Michael Greer's "A World Full of Gods" really nice.  (caveat: Greer has *also* gone full right-wing nutjob these days, sigh, so like.  would not recommend a great swath of his writing.  but that one's good)

-> deciding that a just God wouldn't give me a brain and then ask me not to use it was hugely comforting to me.  like, that was the start of the whole process, that was what made me feel ok searching for other churches and trying to find something that fit.  obviously you should take this with 800 grains of salt, because obviously i'm no longer Christian, and thus maybe i'm just some poor misguided fallen soul, but... i still kinda believe that!  maybe if you can make yourself believe that, it'll seem less scary?

idk, happy to answer more questions, sorry for the long ramble, hope it helped~

[your-ace-cousin-clover]

okay soooo... sorry for the delayed reply, i've been kinda busy!

i gotta start this off by saying how much i loved the way you wrote "[...] that feeling of wanting to reach divinity and holiness with your writing. The raw, exposed nerve of that writing." - it's hard for me to refer to writing as a hobby because it's such a substantial part of me, if that makes sense? or maybe that's just my codependent relationship to writing... whenever i don't write for a while i start feeling like a non-person! (ok, in hindsight this doesn't sound 100% related to the holiness bit, but that's what sparked the train of thought)

on for colored girls who have considered suicide - when the rainbow is enuf: i actually listened to a monologue from this a while ago on youtube, but I'll be sure to check out the full text!

also, on the topic of spoken-word & slam poetry: i'm going to a poetry reading at a friend's place later this month and it's nerve-racking. i mean, hey, of course i bleed into my poetry, and in theory i'm cool with that. but reading it aloud to a room half full of strangers? that's like lying on an operating table, flesh sliced open with surgeons over you. (i'm sure it'll be fun, though)

i've read primer for small weird loves and wishbone (because they're both included in richard siken's book crush - which is definitely worth the money (& btw, he has a new book coming out this year in fall/winter; thought i'd tell you in case you didn't know))! out of the two i like wishbone a lot more - although that's probably just because i relate to it a little bit more. i like making lists so i've compiled some of my favorite parts from the poem:

• "I took the bullet for all the wrong reasons [...]"

• "Let's not talk about it, let's just not talk."

• "[...] we keep doing it Henry, we keep saying until we get it right... [...]"

• "If you love me, Henry, you don't love me in a way I understand."

• "This is where the evening splits in half, Henry, love or death. Grab an end, pull hard, and make a wish."

it's crazy (well, not really, but you know) that you mentioned jericho brown, because we read something by him in english class a few years back and he's completely slipped my mind since then! so, thanks for reminding me :)

first of all, i love how duplex starts and ends with the same line - and this may be a reach, but it feels sort of like coming home? he introduces us to the line, we go away for a while, then we're back at the beginning. and maybe i just feel this way because for me going home is synonymous with going back home. (not always, but a lot of the time.) also, the contrast of "none of the beaten end up how we began" & the poem ending exactly how it began? i don't have the right words to explain what, but there's something that grabs me in that.

now, let's take a short detour because i feel like dropping some recs. here's two poets whose work i really enjoy: chen chen and jasmine ledesma (who i think is on tumblr, too? @/candiedspit if i'm not wrong). i'd specifically like to recommend (and hopefully hear you opinion on) chen chen's i'm not a religious person but & jasmine ledesma's short stories no candy, sorry and FIEND.

links (just in case the previous ones don't work):

i'm not a religious person but: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/58152/im-not-a-religious-person-but

no candy, sorry: https://tinyletter.com/jasmineledesma/letters/no-candy-sorry

FIEND: https://marchharemag.com/fiend

lastly, thanks for the prompt! i'll be sending you the poem in a separate ask (although i'm convinced it only makes sense if you're me) as to not make this one too long haha

-cat

Cat!

Sorry on the delayed reply on my side too. I've been sorta busy with a lot of stuff, but I had to drop in a message.

First of all, the poem? Iconic. It is so well written!!! Ahh! The way you use the numbers to count down all the things in a list sort of a format . And the splendid use of a clock ticking to signify the time coming closer and closer. It reminds of the Doomsday Clock which always reminds us that we are two minutes to complete destruction and in a way it is an inevitable destruction. "I'm one drink away from holiness and I'm not stopping" is such a vivid Ginsberg line that ahhh, it hits with the concept of the Beat Generation being these drunk, high poets who ultimately want to experience divinity through their intoxication and writing. And the ending with, "it's almost Valentine's- please tell your wretched heart I'm sorry." AGHH, the way the narrator tries to stop the inevitability of the sadness of romance?? Or being stuck in a relationship and trying to do better? The interpretations are left wide open and I love that.

[Let me know if you'd be okay with me sharing your poem? And oh, if you like to send me another prompt, I would love that.]

And I wanted to give you some advice on slam poetry performances, I have a bit of an experience with them. The surgical metaphor is indeed apt, there is some vulnerable to stand in front of a group of people to carve out yourself into words and see it take on a meaning for everyone differently. But, revel in that vulnerable state and see how that conveys meaning. Focus on a spot in the room and speak to it and let meaning take its own hold. And remember, even if you don't get the reception you are hoping for, hold onto the meaning that you initially wrote it with. How your poetry affects you in the end is what matters. And good luck! Let me know how it goes.

[I didn't know about the new Siken book. Do you know if it has a name? I'll have to look it up whenever it releases.]

Ahh, and I love the idea of listening favourite lines of poems, I might start doing that with my favourite poems too.

[Also, I know it's in the name, but there's something about the way Wishbone is written that it makes you keep as if you are splintering into bits and dissolving. Especially in the bit where he goes I wish you'd stop reminding about the debt because you can do nothing about it and even if you love me, it is not the way I want.; Please let me go, I cannot let you be in my debt anymore.]

Jericho Brown? Iconic. The cyclical nature of the form as well as it is sort of the same line all the while not being the same line is such a beautiful way to express the repetition, but all how each cycle in a way is different than the last one.

I loved Chen Chen's poem. The way God chooses to escape from his own reality through someone who does not believe enough in him to question him at first it beautiful. And what hits me is how God stops and creates a barrier again by sending the angel as soon as he is questioned in adjacent to his role in the universe. What interests me is how the atheist (I know it does not mention atheism directly, but close enough) is sent an angel and later meet with God, and therefore, the relation that they form is a meaningful bond between two individuals rather than being a power dynamic with the worshipped and the devotee.

There's something about Ledesma's stories about hopelessness in her both protagonists. In the same way, both are extremely tired of their circumstances and want to be somewhere else in perhaps a better versions of their selves. The scattered prose certainly draws it very strongly together.

And finally, to drop a rec of my own, let me know what you think of Ada Limon's "The Problem With Travel" and "Accident Report in the Tall, Tall Weeds." They both are very beautiful poems.

Hope to hear from you soon! :)

[zhuilingyizhen]

Just sitting here about Zizhen being sick with like the flu or something (can cultivators even get the flu?) and the other juniors (who he’s dating) taking extra good care of him

zizhen would complain a lot until someone gives him love and affection (well, not too close tho bc they're sick).

ngl zizhen is the healer of the four of them so this is uh. confusing. sizhui takes care of him (tea and medicine and shit, he's great at that sorta thing bc he got sick a lot as a child).

jl is concerned and shows it by ranting abt how dumb it is that oyzz got sick and that he should be more careful smh what a dummy (as if oyzz can do anything abt it lololol)

but jl also brings in a good certified medic (lsz and jl drag wq over, if she's alive). and ljy sits next to oyzz (completely ignoring the fact he might get sick) and chats his ear off. also, he reads romance books aloud!! ljy has a really nice voice, especially for singing and reading :D

(oyzz's dad thinks they're just GREAT friends)