#there was so much stuff written and circled on the paper is that bad

[sn4k3r0t]

saw a psychiatrist

[steddielations]

nonsexual d/s for sub Eddie week with art here by @ent-is-indecisive

“Eddie, will you please open the door?”

“I ruined it, Steve, I messed everything up.”

“You didn’t ruin anything, baby, let me in, c’mon.”

All the music from the party almost drowns out Steve’s voice, but a small pathetic piece of Eddie clings to it like an anchor. He opens the door and Steve’s brows knit sympathetically at the state of distress Eddie's in. It’s all fucked up.

His leather sleeve is wet and sticky, he can’t stop raking his fingers through his hair, ruining the nice waves Steve styled for him earlier because he was too much of a wreck to do it himself. It’s all fucked up.

“I fucked up.”

Shaking his head, Steve comes inside and shuts the door behind him. “It wasn’t that bad. Could’ve been worse, remember when Robin threw up in the middle of an audition.”

“Steve, at this point they’re gonna pay me not to make an album,” Eddie stresses, pacing around the bathroom. “I spilled wine all over the guy. Dale fucking Grazer wants to talk serious paper and shake my hand and I just emptied my stupid little glass all over him!”

“It was just wine, not puke or something,” Steve says lightly, trying to bring Eddie down from his frantic state. It works, his voice is a tether for Eddie to grab onto. “Come here, let me fix you up.” 

Eddie does as Steve says, not trusting himself to make any more decisions when all he’s done today is fuck up. 

Steve guides him over to the sink, wetting a towel and dabbing Eddie’s jacket. He’s so calm, like this isn’t the most important night in Eddie’s life and it’s not already blown and he can still make that hotshot from the record label like him.

Steve’s acting like everything’s fine, which makes Eddie feel stupid and small like he's overreacting, he tries to let Steve’s energy calm him too but it’s hard.

“You’re overthinking, I can see it on your face,” Steve says, being gentle but not in a coddling way that would make Eddie feel even more stupid.

He straightens out Eddie’s sleeve, good as new, then works on Eddie’s hair next. His fingers are soft and skilled and so sure, knowing exactly how to fix it and how to make Eddie melt under his touch.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, just trying to let Steve fix everything. He's way better at fancy parties and schmoozing than Eddie is. He always knows how to get Eddie out of his head and that’s what he needs right now. As pathetic as he feels about it, he needs to stop thinking. Let Steve think for him, even.

“Wanna tell me what’s on your mind?” Steve prompts softly and Eddie is helpless but to let it all out.

“I can’t stop saying the wrong shit. Why’d I tell him my dad’s in prison? Or bring up the dropped murder charges, or all that stuff about ket, I just can’t shut up.”

“No, that’s just you, the whole big personality charismatic rockstar thing. Trust me, that guy’s got star eyes for you.”

“This is just like with Paige’s label. I messed that up, and now I’m ruining Jeff’s chance again, and—”

“No you’re not, that guy loves Jeff already, everybody loves Jeff.” 

“You’re right, he’s got this, he doesn’t need me. Let’s just get out of here, make a run for it.”

Eddie barely takes a step before Steve’s hands circle both his wrists, his grip gentle but solid, holding Eddie in place. It flips the same little switch in Eddie as the cuffs they use in the bedroom. It takes away the option to run.

Somewhere in the jumble of his mind, he knows it’s the right choice, trusting that Steve wouldn’t let him make the wrong one.

“We’re not going anywhere, baby, this is your chance too.” Steve rubs up and down Eddie’s arms, guiding him around in front of the mirror. 

It’s hard for Eddie to look at himself right now and see it written all over his face. Steve cleaned the stain and made his hair perfect again but he can’t fix whatever’s making Eddie… Well, Eddie. Whatever it is that made him flunk senior year 3 times, or screw up the first chance he had to make something of himself, or the reason Ronnie won’t pick up his phone calls, or the reason Wayne sleeps with his keys on the bedside table in case he has to come running to Eddie’s rescue like always—

Steve’s fingers lightly cup Eddie’s chin, he’s standing behind Eddie now, his body warmly pressed against him.

“Look here, honey.” Steve gently tips Eddie’s head up to meet his own eyes in the mirror. They’re glistening with unshed tears that almost fall when Steve says soft but sure, “You’re not a fuckup,” and prompts Eddie, “Say it.”

Eddie swallows the lump rising in his throat, “I’m not—” 

He chokes up a little bit and Steve waits patiently. 

“Tell yourself,” Steve whispers, all earnest-eyed in the mirror like all he wants is to make Eddie believe it.

“I’m not a… fuckup,” Eddie gets the words out and a few tears slip free with them.

Steve brushes them away. “You can do this. Say it.”

With a deep breath, Eddie tells himself, “I can do this.”

Steve kisses his temple, gives him a little praise that he admittedly needs so much right now, “You’re gonna be so good.”

Eddie’s mind starts to clear of everything that’s not Steve rocking him slowly in his arms, whispering, “You’re my good boy,” as many times as Eddie needs to hear it. He feels his confidence building back up, getting more comfortable in his skin again with Steve holding him, believing the words Steve made him say in the mirror, believing the words Steve kisses into his neck and loves into his skin. He can do this.

“Aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” 

“Tell me,” Steve prompts and Eddie turns a little, blinking slowly, eyes feeling heavy with the slow dose of bliss Steve gave him.

“I’m your good boy,” Eddie murmurs and he believes it.

When they leave the bathroom later, Steve can’t hold his hand through this, but Eddie still feels him.

He charms the fuck out of those suits from the label. They love Jeff, everybody loves Jeff, and they love Eddie too. The whole band is definitely getting signed, at least that’s what Steve says on the ride home.

Eddie greedily soaks up all the praise and attention, feeling a little spacey with it, Steve's big warm hand on his thigh grounding him. He can't wait for them to get home so he can properly thank Steve.

[love-belle]

paper rings !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which she would say yes, even with paper rings.

or

for when you're certain that they're your person. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au irl // lewis hamilton x fem!reader

warnings - language

author's note - one of the cutest things i have ever written, loved this request!! i hope you like it, i love you, thank you for reading <3

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by lewishamilton, yourbestfriend, lilymhe and 729,926 others

yourusername best believe i'm still bejeweled

7,718 comments

username MOTHER IS MOTHERING

username just one chance pls 🙏

username im so norma abt her hahahaha!! SO normal abt losing my wife to a man that goes vroom vroom in circles!!

lewishamilton the most beautiful ❤️

-> yourusername thank u baby ❤️

lewishamilton can't believe how lucky i am

-> yourusername that's all me

-> username i NEED what these bitches have

username she's not wearing her engagement ring question mark

lilymhe girlfriend 💌

-> yourusername girlfriend 💌

username the ring ⁉️⁉️⁉️

username she ate so hard they named the restaurant after her

username she's not wearing her ring ://

≡;- ꒰ °real life ꒱

"hey, baby."

"hey," lewis mumbled, not sparing y/n a single glance as he continued to watch a random episode of modern family.

"how was your night?" y/n continued to make conversation with him, removing her high heels and discarding her handbag. she walked towards where he was at and kissed the top of his head before petting roscoe a few times. "sorry, there was traffic and then i had to drop aaliyah at her boyfriend's place cause she got too drunk to drive."

"'s okay," was all lewis said, making y/n frown as she turned back to look at him. he was still watching the tv, his head thrown back against the back of the couch with roscoe next to him.

"uh — i'll be right back, i need to change," y/n spoke, her confusion only growing as her fiancé gave no reply, not even a slight hum as an indication that he had heard her.

moving towards their bedroom, y/n could feel herself grow more confused, thinking of all of the possible reasons as to why lewis would be so short and distant with her.

maybe he was just having a bad day? maybe he was just tired? was he sick? did i do something? another rumour of me hooking up with my best friend? he found out i broke his favourite vase?

her mind swarming with plausible to way-too-ridiculous reasons, she didn't even notice her changing her own clothes until she was left staring at the heap that was her dress by her feet. picking it up and throwing it on the bed, she made her way towards the living room, hoping that maybe she just imagined it. that it was just ber overthinking mind that over analysed a situation.

"hey," y/n spoke again, walking around to the couch to the front of it. sensing that she wanted to sit here, roscoe stood up and moved a bit, just enough so that y/n could scoot in and then laid back, this time on her. "hey," lewis replied, his eyes flickering to her before he focused again on the show in front of him.

okay so, maybe she didn't imagine it.

"what are we watching?" y/n questioned, scratching behind roscoe's ears, desperate to make a conversation with him, seeing him for the first time since this afternoon.

"modern family," lewis sighed exasperated and as much as y/n hated to admit it, it made her feel like he didn't want her there at the moment. sure, he may have had his reasons but it didn't feel exactly good, noticing that her fiancé didn't wanna be around her at the moment.

as long as she's been with lewis, almost seven years, they've always communicated with each other. from the smallest of things like when y/n told lewis that she hated his choice of carpet for their living room to the biggest and the most important stuff like when lewis talked to y/n about wanting to wait until after they were married to have kids.

and the best thing about this was the other always understood. lewis understood that yeah, bright pink did clash with the warm and pastel tones of their home and y/n did understand that waiting until they were fully settled down was the best option.

and now, watching him not talk to her when there was obviously something bothering him was a bit confusing but still, she knew it was best to give him some space.

"uh — i'll be in the bedroom," y/n spoke, her voice just barely above a whisper and she knew he heard her because of the way his face changed and the way he turned to look at her with the slightest bit of confusion showing in his eyes. "it's been a long night and i just really want to sleep."

"okay," lewis whispered back and gave her a small smile, the most reaction she'd been able to get out of him since she came home.

"good night," y/n stood up, kissing roscoe's on the head before she turned toward lewis, who was watching his with an unreasonable look on his face. "good night, baby, i love you."

she barely heard an 'i love you' back before she was walking away from the couch and towards their bedroom. closing the door behind her, she picked up her dress from the bed and placed it on the chair by the dressing table, making a mental note to take it to the dry cleaners. after looking at herself one more time in the mirror and removing whatever was left of her makeup, she was in bed, covers drawn up to her chest.

y/n didn't know how long she laid there for, moving in and out of sleep. her mind was still stuck on lewis like a broken record, wondering what had happened while she was out. in the midst of her analysis, she didn't hear the footsteps approach the door until the person was right in front of it and the handle twisted and y/n quickly closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep just so he wouldn't question her about what she was doing.

the door opened and closed and the soft patter of footsteps could be heard.

there was silence for a full minute before lewis got in next to her, the sheet rustling. for the first five minutes, he stayed on his own side and y/n had to resist the urge to pull him closer to her, finding it hard to sleep when he was not holding her. then, he turned towards her and y/n had a feeling he was starting at her, finding it harder and harder to not let her expression change. she could feel movement next to her and ruled it out as lewis getting comfortable until a hand moved to lay across her abdomen and pulled her closer.

she heard lewis inhale deeply, his head moving to lay in the crook of her neck. she could feel his warm breath on the exposed part of her collarbone, feeling the goosebumps rise on her skin. she shifted against him, her hand moving to hold him closer.

they stayed like that for what felt like mere minutes, their breathing the only sound in the room along with the ticking of the clock with each passing second. y/n figured lewis fell asleep, with how even his breathing was and she was about to move to get a bit more comfortable when he spoke.

"i'm sorry," his voice was quiet in the room, his thumb tracing circles on her stomach where her tank top had risen up slightly. "for ignoring you, kind of and being distant. i know you don't like it."

"it's okay, lew. i just want you to be able to talk to me, whenever you feel like," y/n assured him, kissing the top of his head.

"it's a stupid thing, really," lewis chuckled half heartedly, his body vibrating against hers. "don't even worry about it."

"i always worry about it when it comes to you, you know that," y/n reminded him, making him look at her. "and it's not stupid if it bothers you. what is it, love?"

"it's just that — " lewis stopped before he could continue, taking a deep breath before speaking again. "you weren't wearing your engagement ring, when you were out with your friends and then that post you posted on your instagram, people took notice of that and they were all like 'why isn't she wearing her ring' and 'did they break up' and there were some hate comments too. i reported them, by the way. and then, i don't know, i just kinda got into too much overthinking and just made myself upset over nothing and i ignored you and you went back when it was so clear you just wanted to talk to me and i feel — "

he was interrupted by a kiss.

y/n kissed in the middle of his rambling, pulling him closer with the front of his t-shirt while one of her hands rested on his cheek. a surprised noise left lewis' mouth before he melted into the kiss, tilting his head so that he could deepen the kiss.

y/n pulled away, making lewis chase her lips once again and she gave him another soft kiss before pulling back fully and looking at him with a soft smile.

"do you not like the ring?" was the first thing that came out of his mouth, making y/n furrow her eyebrows.

"what?"

"do you not like the ring?" lewis repeated himself, sitting up slightly. "because if so, i can get you another one and this time you can come with me. i chose that one all by myself and i wasn't even really sure about it being 'you' because your style literally changes every week and i can totally understand if you don't like it like — that's totally valid and i'm sure — "

"oh, my god," y/n sat up straight, folding legs under her as she looked at her fiancé. "you think i don't like the ring?"

"... yeah."

"lewis," y/n dragged out the 's', standing up from the bed and rapidly moving towards her dresser, opening a small box and pulling out her ring, her engagement ring. "this the most beautiful ring i have ever seen in my life."

and it was, really. it had intricate patterns throughout the band, with a giant diamond sitting in the middle with several diamonds surrounding it. and what made it even more special was the fact that lewis had his initials, along with hers engraved on the inside of the ring. that's what made y/n fall in love with it.

"really?" lewis asked hopefully from the bed, watching her make her towards his side of the bed. she sat down next to him and took his hand in hers, the ring still clutched in her free hand.

"but that ring is not the reason i said yes, you know that, right? like, you could ask me to marry you with a ring made out of tissue paper and foil and i would still end up saying yes," y/n whispered, leaning in closer and placing a soft kiss on his lips before she gave him the ring and put out her hand for him to slide it on. "as long as it's you asking me that damn question."

lewis chuckled, sliding on the ring onto her ring finger and kissing it. he looked at her, the smile being so genuine that it shone in his eyes and y/n could see him being in love and she knew she was no different from him.

"marry me, will you?" lewis asked again, in the empty room with no one, no shining lights, no crowd standing there applauding, no extravagant arrangement of flowers, just them, a total contrast to when he had first asked the question. even though the answer was already yes, he couldn't help but ask. just so he could hear it one more time.

"only because you asked so nicely," y/n teased him, making lewis chuckle before he leaned in, closing the gap between them.

no shining lights, no crowd standing there applauding, no extravagant arrangement of flowers, just them.

yet, somehow, this managed to be even more special than that one.

≡;- ꒰ °real life ꒱

y/n wasn't there when lewis woke up, just a post it note, along with a small box on her side of the bed saying that she was called to her office a bit early and wouldn't be home until late afternoon.

lewis smiled as he looked at the numerous hearts drawn on the note. he kept the note aside, mentally noting that he would have to add it to his collection of notes he had received from y/n throughout the course of their relationship. he took the box and opened it, his face scrunched up in confusion before he smiled, a laugh leaving him as he took out the contents of the box.

it was a paper ring.

the most simple thing yet he knew he would choose this over a million something diamond ring. a small heart on the top with the ridges along the band, it was perfect.

there was another note attached to it, just one simple line and it had lewis smiling for the rest of the day

'i like shiny things but i'd marry u with paper rings ♡'

yeah, he made the right choice marrying her.

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton, lilymhe and 862,926 others

yourusername i like shiny things but i'd marry you with paper rings 💌

tagged lewishamilton

8,719 comments

username NO ONE'S DOING IT LIKE THEM

username brb crying.

username TAYLOR SWIFT REFERENCE IM DEAD

lilymhe gf are u cheating on me ://

-> yourusername NEVER baby he's just a side piece

-> lewishamilton ...

username i see how kind god has been to others 💔💔

username no bc they're so in love i could throw up

charles_leclerc is that why he's been blasting that damn song the whole day

-> lewishamilton it's a great song ❤️

-> yourusername yes it is ❤️

username THE PAPER RINGS THE LOVE LETTER THE SONG IM DECEASED

lewishamilton uh huh that's right darling ❤️

-> yourusername you're the one i want ❤️

lewishamilton loved the ring so much 💍 i love you

-> yourusername im so glad <3 i love you sm

[ssrleona]

homecoming (I)

pairing: leona kingscholar x fem!reader

warnings: slight angst, allusions to childhood mistreatment

word count: 1.5k

s: at your insistence, you finally visit the afterglow savannah and meet Leona's family

a/n: this was written before the tamashna muina event released. and since I haven't read the trans yet, how I describe the savannah and its culture may not be the same as it was described in game. I'm East African, and since the lion king was essentially a mishmash of East African culture (mostly Kenya, Ethiopia, and for some reason some stuff from W. Africa), most of what I describe comes from my own cultural background + light research. enjoy!

It starts with a letter.

It’s not unusual for Night Raven College to be overrun by its unruly student body, but the coming summer holiday brings a new level of restlessness that hums through the walls. Hasty stops at the school store, last minute assignments, bittersweet goodbyes. Even the faculty seem on edge and ready to end the semester.

Ruggie all but collapses at your feet when he spots you in the hall of mirrors, heaving a woven basket twice his size. It’s filled to the brim with an assortment of different packages; mailers, bags, miniature boxes wrapped in newspaper clippings and assorted wrapping paper. A neat ivory envelope tied with a golden ribbon at the very top.

He gives it to you. “Could you hand this off to Leona? I have enough on my plate as it is.”

“Is it usually this bad?” You ask, eyeing the precarious stack that’s leaning just a little too close to the floor. You turn the envelope in your hands. The words on the front are written in a script you can’t make out, only recognizing ‘Leona Kingscholar’ in the far left corner. It’s bulky, like someone crammed multiple letters inside, but doesn’t take away the luxurious quality of the paper. It’s silk between your fingertips.

“It’s from his family, so I doubt he’d read it anyways,” Ruggie comments. He hefts the basket from the floor, “Throw it out if you want.”

His family.

Besides bitter remarks thrown in passing, Leona never speaks of them. Or his home. What you’re holding in your hands is the only piece of the other Kingscholar’s you’ve ever gotten so close to. The letter is tucked away before you give the suggestion a second thought. 

“You came all this way, I might as well.” 

“You just wanna read it, huh?” 

“And you wouldn’t?”

Ruggie laughs at that, turning to the door with a shake of his head. “There’s a reason curiosity killed the cat. Something’s I’d rather not know.”

______________________________________________________________________________

“Took you long enough.”

Warm arms circle your waist as you enter the room, dragging you backwards until you hit the plushness of his sheets. He’s practically on top of you. Flush against him, back to chest. His head finds its way to the crook of your neck and you can feel the sigh he releases on the wisps of your hair. The softness of his tail curling around your ankle.

Leona’s tone is scalding, but the delicate possessiveness of his actions tell you otherwise.

You turn your head. Heavy olive irises sharpen as you place the letter between the both of you. “I got caught up.”

Groaning, he’s quick to toss it on the nightstand before burrowing himself further into your neck. With you two so close, sheets ballooned around you, a drowsy warmth fills you. It’s hard not to fall into it.

“That’s the last thing I need right now.” He huffs.

You raise a brow. “You haven’t even read it.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s the same old shtick. Naggin’ me to come for break.” 

He sighs. “If it was up to me I’d just stay here.”

“Aw, you’d miss me that much?” You tease, yelping as he pinches your side. The laugh pulled from his lips ease into a yawn.

“In your dreams.” Leona exhales. His breath evens out, warm against the shell of your ear as he’s lulled into sleep. 

And that was that.

In your position on the bed, you have a perfect view of the nightstand, eyes catching the glimmer of gold ribbon in the dim light.

Coming to Twisted Wonderland, you’ve constantly been thrusted into the most asinine of situations all while being told to keep your head down and leave things where they lie.

But you're a curious sort by nature. It’s a hunger, insatiable in its pursuit to pick everything apart, examine every crack and rough edge, feel the grain against the pad of your fingers, piece by piece. You’ve disrupted the debased philosophies of Night Raven College’s elite because you’re always pushing for more, not settling for less.

This is not something you are ashamed of.

Yet, as you stare at the envelope in front of you, you can’t help but feel hesitant.

Leona is an enigma, an ever changing labyrinth. The moment you think you have him figured out, the layout changes and you’re back at square one. And it leaves you starved.

You want to know him, yearn to trace his patterns like the dips in the back of your hand; know where each curve started, why it ends, and swallow it whole to keep wherever you go.

 You also know this: if you push too far Leona will close himself away and never let you see these parts of him ever again. And you’ve grown greedy.

(Something’s I’d rather not know)

You grab the envelope.

The ribbon gives easily enough, and you’re met with letter after letter, all scrawled in messy print. You realize these were written by Cheka– asking his uncle how he’s doing, when he’s coming to visit, and what he’s been up to at the palace since the last time Leona saw him. On the bottom of some of the pages were crayon drawings: portraits of his parents and scenes of Leona and him together, exploring the palace or traveling through the city. 

As you sift through, a paper falls into your lap. 

It’s a photograph of Cheka and who you’d assume to be his parents. The man in the photo is laughing, light smile lines gracing his face. Cheka’s in his arms, and the woman beside them looks at the sight with fondness. The background is flooded with the country’s namesake- an assortment of orange, yellow, and pinks kaleidoscopes together in a painting of the setting sun. It looks homey, tender and inviting, and you can’t help the smile that curls around your lips.

You’d love to be there, surrounded in that warmth.

 Leona’s scoff makes you jump, looking over at him, and his bleary eyes meet your stare. His expression was mostly hidden in the depth of your shoulder but he didn’t look pleased. You didn’t realize you said the words aloud, or that your movements woke him.

“Go be a comedian if you wanna start telling jokes.” He grunts. You turn yourself in his grasp to face him fully and his arms tighten their hold. His hair is mused with sleep, blanketing the pillows beneath. Your hands itch to touch it.

“I don’t think it’s a bad idea,” You insisted. He scowls at this, tail shifting back and forth beneath the sheets. “ I want to see the Afterglow Savannah, the palace, your family. It'd be nice to know where you grew up.”

The message is quiet. You do not tell me enough.

Leona grows silent. Contemplative. He knows when you get like this, stuck on an idea that overrules your every action, close to nothing can convince you otherwise. 

He told you once that’s a trait he liked about you in the best of times. 

( ‘But half the time it just makes you hard headed’ he said, and snickered at your glare.)

Leona knows you well, too well. Usually this would bring a coy flush to your face, but you couldn’t help but grimace at the thought.

“I just want to know more about you.” You admit. 

“You could just ask.”

“Like you’d tell me.”

He says nothing, looking through you, deep in thought. Leona doesn’t seem annoyed by your probing, but something about the furrow in his brows looks resigned. Bitter.

“There’s nothing worth seeing.” He bites out. “It’s a bunch of royals too stuck up to see past their ivory towers.”

The photo; the honest smiles and laughter.

“I’m sure there’s more than that.” You contend.

Something bubbles forth in him. A dark quality you haven't seen before. He growls deep in his throat. It’s too low for your ears to catch, but you feel it reverberate through the bed and into your chest. 

“ Yeah, the stupid age old rules they hide behind–and they're sure to ostracize anyone who steps outside it.”  He meets your gaze.“Birth order is the only thing that matters. If you’re not first then you’re nothing.”

 The vitriol in his tone catches you off guard, and the words fall away from your mouth before you can stop yourself.

“Do you hate the Afterglow Savannah?” 

Instead of the eruption of anger you expected, the brewing storm leaves him sullen.

You regret it as soon as it passed through your lips

“You really don’t let up do you?” He sighs. Leona’s voice is oddly gentle. You wait for the other shoe to drop; anger, arrogance–anything. But it never comes. His arms move you so you’re in your original position, back to chest, as if the conversation never happened. Except this time, he curls himself into you– his body hiding you away, swallowing you whole.

“Stop worrying about it.” He mumbles. “Hurry up and sleep.”

You don’t. You spend that afternoon staring at the photo, tracing over their juvenile smiles.

Leona’s was not one of them.

TBC

[playingdxngerous]

Extra Credit

Word Count: 2.2k

Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI!!

Warnings: spencer reid smut, praise kink, hand kink if you squint hard enough, age gap (teacher and college student), digital penetration, oral f! receiving, angst bc the beginning is kinda sad ig, happy ending, just a ton of praise basically, also i didn't proofread so probably some mistakes here and there

~For my delusional girls, like me~

.

.

.

"So, for homework I just need you to read the next 5 chapters and write me a summary. Tell me how this relates to transcendentalism in literature. Don't forget to use the study guide from this previous test." Professor Reid says as he walks across the room, handing out the graded tests. He gets up to your table and quickly flips your paper over as he hands it to you. You know it must be bad if he hides the score from your peers. You turn it around to see a circled 47 with the words "u ok?" written next to it. You look up and he's completely across the classroom, continuing on his rant about the homework. Still, he is looking right at you. How does he know?

Your mind traces back to the night before. You're on the phone with your boyfriend in the process of being broken up with. Followed by, of course, your parents fight growing louder and louder within the walls. You look out your door and see them yelling at each other, throwing their hands in the air after every sentence. Last night was not a good night, especially since you had to spend almost all night studying for the test you just failed. A score of 47. How?

The class continues on like normal for the next 30ish minutes. Each tick on the clock is just another second you must force your tears to stay in.

"Okay just don't forget that homework guys. It's really important that you know this for the final." His voice comes back into focus. He dismisses the class. People start to trample over you as you put your stuff into your bag, crumbling the test. Professor Reid walks up to you, propped up against the table with his hands. "Mind to see me for a sec?" He asks concerned.

"Look, if it's about the test I'm sorry. It was just some careless mistakes and I won't ever do it again. I'm okay." You say as he guides you to his desk. Once again he leans against the table to get to your height. His suit stretches out with his arm, his button up shirt and tie becoming more visible.

"I know it wasn't just some careless mistakes. You're usually a straight A student. You've never gotten below a 90 on one of my tests."

"I was just being dumb, I'm sorry." You look down in unexplainable guilt.

"Don't say that about yourself, you're such a smart girl," he requests. Your stomach drops at his validation.

You try to laugh it off, "You're really overestimating me right now Mr. Reid."

"You think I don't notice when something is wrong? I know you and I know you aren't just being dumb. Talk to me." He says, ready to listen.

"I didn't know you paid that much attention to me." Your eyebrows furrow.

"I do," he grows quieter, "Noticed you weren't sitting with your boyfriend today too."

"How did you even know we were together?" You puzzle.

"How could I not?" He gasps with a smile. "It's kind of obvious you know. The way you look at him and all."

He really does pay attention.

"He broke up with me last night. Cheated on me too."

"I'm so sorry, I wish I could make it better. It's really seeming to affect your mental health right now." He responds concerned.

"Yeah, it's whatever. It's not just him being a problem right now so I don't really care. If anything, I'm just numb."

"It's not the group of girls beside you, is it?" His voice speeds up with a higher pitch. "I will fix it immediately if you ask me to."

"No, it's just my parents and stuff at home." Tears sting in your eyes.

"Is there something I can do?" He inquires.

"Extra credit maybe?" You shrug.

"I can do that. What do you have in mind?"

"I don't know just-" your voice breaks off as a tear falls out. "I'm just really stressed right now.” You wipe away the teardrop, yet more start to join it. He brings his hand up, curling his index finger to wipe the preceding drops. With no thoughts in your head, you accidentally lean in and cradle him into a hug. He allows it, wrapping his arms right above your waist. Seconds go by until you realize what you’re doing.

"I'm so sorry. Oh my god, why did I do that?" You pull away rapidly.

"Hey," he grabs your arm, "I don't mind. You can come to me for anything." He catches your eyes with his soft gaze, taking away any sadness left in you.

"So extra credit?" You clear your throat.

"Yeah um," he snaps out of it, physically shaking his head. "Just don't worry about it okay?"

"Are you sure sir?"

"Yeah." He gulps. "And the homework too."

You hug him again and he grabs your hair, massaging into your scalp. You squeeze tighter, never wanting to let your teacher go. This hug has been better than anything your ex boyfriend or parents have ever provided.

Like a scene out of a movie, he leans down and kisses the crown of your head. Tears once again stream down your cheeks at his loving touch, drying up as they fall onto his button up shirt.

You pull your head away to look at him, nothing but softness in his eyes. You place your hand on his cheek, feeling his slight stubble in your palm.

"Kiss me?" He asks in a hoarse whisper. In what feels like ages, you both unconsciously lean into each other. Slow and steady. His lips fit perfectly against yours. Your heart skips a beat.

The thought of him being your teacher rings through your head, making you pull away out of embarrassment. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Hey stop, it's okay." He assures.

"This is so wrong. You probably didn't want that and only kissed back because you feel bad for me." You cry out.

"You know we both enjoyed it. Plus, I'm the one that asked for it to begin with." He assures.

He's right. You did enjoy it. More than you probably should have. It got your mind off everything else.

"I'm so sorry Mr. Reid." Feeling like a crybaby, your eyes drown your face once more.

"It's okay, it's okay, it's okay." He says almost unintelligibly fast.

He begins to kiss your head all over, letting his lips fall randomly along you. He moves to your forehead, then trails down to your neck. You instinctively grab his hair and let him continue. He makes it back to your lips and you sloppily return the favor. Each second you grow hotter. A slight whimper escapes your lips as he slides his tongue into your mouth. The taste of the two of you combines, the sweetest thing you’ve ever tasted. His tongue slow dances with yours and he warm breaths begin to escalate onto you as he pulls away. His eyes remain closed even when not on your lips. He shortly returns, faster than ever. Passion floods the both of you. It flies in the air, warming up the world around you.

His hands find your waist, which he grabs to pull you closer. Friction rises in you below your skirt, so you squeeze your legs together to release it. This does little to no help, as the way he devours your lips turns you on more than ever. He grabs your right leg and hoists it over his hip. With the skirt being pushed up from this action, you begin to grind against his crotch with only your underwear and his slacks in between.

You then follow up with the other leg. He places his hands behind your thighs, his strong arms growing in size as he holds all of your weight up. You grab his biceps and squeeze. You’ve never imagined yourself admiring your teacher from so close, but it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you.

He places you on his desk, pushing random papers and pens aside. With your knees up, your skirt slowly slides down your thighs. He has no other choice but to look you up and down with his starving eyes.

"Still up for that extra credit?" He smirks and bites his lip.

"Been dreaming of it forever Reid."

"Are we forgetting that I'm still your teacher even when you beg me to fuck you? It's sir." He squeezes your thighs.

"Okay sir," you say sarcastically. "Why don't you get on with it then. Make me forget all about my ex you were probably so jealous of."

"Stay quiet for me like a good girl and maybe we won't get caught, how about that?" He pulls your head up by your chin.

"You just don't want to admit it." You say right before he collides his lips with yours for the millionth time.

"You just really want that 47% to stay huh?" He laughs.

"No! Please Mr. Reid, I've wanted you forever. Please just give it to me already."

"So needy!" He replies in a high pitched voice. After a small peck on your lips he makes his way down your body with his hands. He takes extra long on your tits, making sure to cause your stomach knot to tangle even more. You shiver at the touch, so ready to let your orgasm go. Your legs straighten out and dangle off the desk.

He moves his attention to this, changing the direction of his body. He grabs your hand and kisses it, dropping it as he begins to kiss up your leg. Starting at the knee, he makes his way slowly up to where the fabric of your skirt ends at the top of your thigh. He nudges it up with his hands, feeling around your waist.

"You're being such a good girl for me." He looks up at you without moving his head too much. His half lidded puppy dog eyes stare into yours. "Such a good girl. Legs all spread, dripping wet for me. So perfect. My princess." You struggle to find ways to respond as you are completely taken aback by his loving praise.

"Please, I need you." You blurt out.

"What do you need my love?"

"You. Everything."

"So, you want me to take these off I assume?" He teases as he tugs at your panties.

"Please!" You yell from overstimulation.

"Hey quiet remember?" He swallows hard before going back to where he was. Slowly, he pulls them down. "Holy shit you are soaked." You love the cussing side of your teacher more than you probably should.

"I want you so bad baby," you beg.

"I'm right here. I will give you whatever you want. You deserve it, princess." He leans forward as he speaks, slowly reaching his mouth to your wet cunt. His tongue moves in circles around your clit, not yet touching it. This man will be the death of you.

He slides his tongue back and forth, then licks a long strip up your pussy. His speed increases as he flicks his tongue back and forth. Moans seep out of you and him, creating music. As he flattens his tongue and practically shakes his head into you, your back arches more than you thought possible. He sucks and licks with professionalism. You skin begins to prickle as the heat rises in you further and further. He takes notices and pulls his head away.

"Don't tell me you're close already, we just started." He wipes his lips. He leans up and removes his tie to get it out of the way. He places it behind your head and uses it to pull you up towards him. You kiss intently. "Like how you taste, my love?" You blush hard at his comment.

He takes off his jacket and moves back down, rolling up his sleeves and buttoning them in place. His veins travel from his hands up, entrancing you. He slides one finger into you to get you used to it. However, your body is ready for whatever he has for you. He slides in one more right after.

"You're doing so good. I'm so proud of you sweetheart."

Just as you begin to reach your climax, he begins to go harder and faster. He moves his head back down and starts to suck on your clit. He whimpers as you pull his messy hair, making you starstruck.

"C'mon baby let it go." He continues. "Let it out for me. You can do it princess." You fucking love that he talks you through it. It sends you over the edge, causing you to finally release your orgasm. The two of you share deep breaths among each other and he licks his fingers to clean them. "You did so good for me, such a good little girl." He praises in such a smooth, sexy voice.

"I feel so much better." You exhale. Your vision slowly returns after the climax you just hit.

"I'm glad. You definitely earned that extra credit, by the way." He says. You laugh and begin to slide your panties back on, followed by hundreds of innocent kisses.

[neewtmas]

hi!! i was wondering whether i could request a george x reader with she/her pronouns? maybe the reader is an assistant at lockwood and co and george is really protective over her bc she’s super sweet. maybe after the joplin incident she keeps having nightmares and george goes and comforts her, and lots of cute fluffy stuff :)

Nightmares

A/N: first off, thank you so much for your request! I had such a great time writing it. I hope you don't mind that I expanded on your idea a little, it just inspired me a lot. There is quite a lot of angstiness in the first half, but I made sure to include lots of fluff in the second half :)

I hope you enjoy it because personally I think this is one of the best things I've written so far and I'm very proud of it <3

pairing: george karim x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

masterlist

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

You had just finished the first chapter of your newly acquired book that you had gotten from the library this morning when it knocked at the door and Lockwood stuck his head in. "We're leaving now," he said. You put your book aside and followed him out into the hallway. Lucy was waiting at the door in a beautiful royal blue dress. "Where's George?" you asked.

Lockwood gave you a tightlipped smile. "He's staying here. Says he's not done with the research yet."

"Is that Joplin woman still here?"

You grimaced at his nod. A part of you felt bad because you were genuinely happy for George. He seemed to have found someone who shared his passion for research, but at the same time, you couldn't help but be creeped out by this woman. Something about her just didn't sit right with you. When you had brought it up to George one time, he had just dismissed it with a 'researchers are just a little weird, I mean, look at me'. You didn't agree at all but decided to just let the topic go.

After Lockwood and Lucy left, you weighed your options. Either you could go back into the living room and continue your book, or you could join George in the kitchen. Usually, the answer would have been obvious: join George in the kitchen with your book. But with Joplin in there… You sighed, walking back and resuming your place in the armchair.

The next time you put your book aside was when you heard a commotion from the kitchen and then a door closing. "Is she gone?" you asked, stepping into the hallway. George turned around. He seemed exhausted, pale and with dark circles under his eyes. "Yes, she, unfortunately, had to leave already", he said, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans. You didn't say anything, but apparently, your expression said enough. "I know you don't like her, y/n, but she just … cares a lot." A moment of silence. "You wouldn't understand." Your chest tightened at his words. If he just knew how much you cared.

You smiled weakly, not wanting to argue with him. In the kitchen, the entire table was covered in books. Some were opened, others piling up. Pieces of paper scribbled full of notes and diagrams and timelines were scattered all over. George cleared the table of the tea cups and brought them over to the sink. You noticed a packed duffel bag next to the door. "Are you leaving now?" you asked. "Yeah, meet-up time with Flo is in twenty minutes," he said after a look at the clock. You watched him gather his things and put on his shoes and jacket until he was standing by the door, ready to go.

You went up to him and hugged him tightly. He wrapped his arms around you, and you stayed embraced like that for a while before he gently pushed you away. "I have to go now." "Please be careful, okay?", you whispered, and he nodded. "No George, you need to promise me. That you're gonna be careful" you repeated, your tone urgent. He smiled down at you. "I promise, y/n."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

The next few hours you alternated between reading a few pages, and then pacing around the house when you couldn't concentrate longer than a few minutes before the anxiety was too bad. You knew how dangerous their mission was, and it killed you inside that you couldn't help them. But you also knew that Lockwood was right when I told you that you wouldn't be of much use, seeing as you currently didn't have much practice with a rapier. So you had no other choice but to stay home and wait for them to return, hopefully, all in one piece.

It was several hours past midnight when the sound of a key turning in a lock made you jump. You had nodded off at the kitchen table, too tired to keep your eyes open after a while. The kitchen door flew open and Lockwood and Lucy came in, both dripping wet. Lockwood had a cut on his temple, face all bloody. You rose from your seat.

"Where's George? What happened? Are you okay?" Frantically you hurried around the table, quickly checking to see if they had any other injuries, but they seemed to be fine. "George should be back in a while, he went to drop off the mirror", Lockwood said tiredly, taking one of the biscuits off the plate you had prepared for their return. You could feel yourself relaxing a little. All was well, they got the mirror and it was probably already safe with DEPRAC. "And we took a little bath in the Thames." Lockwood didn't smile, and the comment didn't roll off his tongue as effortlessly as usual. You could tell he was still tense. Lucy had been quiet, water dripping from her hair down her dress and making a puddle on the floor. "You two should take a shower," you said. "I'll wait here for George."

Soon you were alone in the kitchen again, but now any trace of tiredness was long gone. The tight knot of anxiety in your stomach had returned quickly, tugging on your insides. You knew it was part of the plan that George didn't arrive here with Lockwood and Lucy, but you couldn't help that your mind was running a million miles a minute, imagining every possible way something could have gone wrong.

You busied yourself with preparing a fresh kettle of tea and some sandwiches, and when you were done, you sat back at the table. That's when your eyes fell onto a thin, black book that was lying across from you, completely unassuming. You immediately knew that this was what your colleagues had risked their life for tonight. You picked it up, inspecting it from all sides. It had a simple black cover, and when you opened it, the pages were thin, almost brittle to the touch, and yellow at the edges. You quickly flicked through it and scanned over the pages before you froze. There was a picture of a man holding a mirror into a woman's face. That seemed promising. You hurried to read the text that accompanied the illustration, almost stumbling over the words in your head.

Yes, I killed him. Shot him with my father's pistol, sealed him with iron, buried him deep. Yet I still see him when I close my eyes, swathed in his velvet cloak, performing his rituals. I shall claim an act of self-defence, a bid to save my soul.

So Mary Dulac killed Bickerstaff. But why? You kept reading.

His cunning servant trapped me. The doctor held the glass before me. One glimpse and I felt my sanity shake loose. For this looking glass was not a mirror after all, it was a window. Only one glimpse, and I am damned. All I want to see is more.

You read over that paragraph again. A window? To where? What did she mean? You inspected the illustration once more, this time more closely. It didn't take long for you to discover the swirling shape inside the mirror, and at once you could feel a wave of cold dread wash over you. You knew that symbol. You knew it very well. With shaking hands you pushed away one of the mugs on the table and revealed what was underneath. The same swirling shape, etched in there by a black pen. The very pen you had gifted George a while back.

You felt your throat close up, the anxiety you had been feeling turning into a full-blown panic searing through your entire body. George must have looked into the glass. And if Mary Dulac was telling the truth, that meant he probably hadn't dropped it off at DEPRAC.

"LOCKWOOD! LUCY!" You wanted to scream, but your voice gave out on you. Wasting no time, you sprinted upstairs, colliding full force with Lockwood who was on his way downstairs.

"Woah, y/n" He caught your wrist, furrowing his eyebrows at your dishevelled state. "What's the matter?" "The mirror is not a mirror and George looked into it and now he's obsessed and he -" You stumbled over your words, unable to form a clear sentence.

Lockwood brought you back down into the kitchen and Lucy managed to calm you down enough so that you could explain to them what you discovered. "We need to go back to Bickerstaff's grave" decided Lucy, already starting to throw chains into a duffle bag. You jumped up from your chair. "I'm coming with you."

Lockwood looked at you as if you just suggested you throw yourself down the staircase. "Absolutely not," he said firmly. "But I have to! George is in danger!" Your voice was high-pitched, and you were still shaking. How could Lockwood possibly think that you would just stay here when George - your George - was in a situation like that?

Lockwood grabbed you, fingers digging into your arms, forcing you to stand still as he looked at you with a grim expression that you had never seen on him before. "y/n, listen to me. Yes, he is in danger. And no, you're not coming with us." "But -" "No buts. George would rip me to pieces if I were to let you in harm's way so carelessly. He would quite literally kill me and probably put up my head next to those ghost masks in the hallway. And he would be right to do so. You are not trained right now, and as your employer I'm telling you right now, you're staying back."

You were stunned. Lucy pushed Lockwood aside, embracing you tightly. "It's gonna be fine, y/n. He's gonna be fine. And you know that he would never want you to risk your life for him."

You knew she was right, but you also knew that George would not hesitate a single second to go save you if the roles were reversed.

"I can't just stay here and do nothing," you said weakly, voice wavering. "You're not doing nothing", Lockwood reassured you. "You can make preparations for when we come back. George's probably gonna be out of it. And if things go south and we're not back in the morning, you call DEPRAC and send them after us."

You decided not to argue with him over the fact that if they were not back by morning, they were probably all dead anyways. You knew that Lockwood would not change his mind.

The next few hours were the most agonizing in your life. If you thought you had been anxious before, that was nothing compared to how you felt now. Your whole body felt stiff and weak at the same time, and you could not stop your hands from shaking. After accidentally dropping a mug (it was one of Lockwood's favourites, but you decided it didn't matter after the way he dismissed you earlier), you just left the kitchen and curled up in George's favourite armchair in the library, staring at the ceiling and willing for the minutes and hours to go by faster.

Finally, after what felt like several eternities, the sound of the doorbell rang through the house. You scrambled to get up, getting caught in the blanket you had thrown over yourself and almost crashing into one of the bookshelves before regaining balance and dashing to the door.

You ripped it open, and as you saw George standing in front of you, looking tired but unharmed, you collapsed into his arms with a sob. He caught you and wrapped his arms around you so tightly that for a moment, you couldn't breathe. But you did not care. He was alive, and that was all that mattered. 

"Let's get inside", he said softly, and you reluctantly let go of him. Suddenly you felt exhausted, all the tension from the night falling off you at once, making room for relief. Silent tears were streaming down your cheeks, and you made no effort to stop them. George's gaze softened as he looked at you and he gently wiped away some tears before hugging you again and placing a kiss on top of your head. "I'm okay, y/n. You don't need to cry."

That night, or rather morning, you fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. The next day was spent recovering, and Lockwood, George and Lucy filling you in about what exactly happened last night. Knowing how they narrowly avoided death several times made you feel horrible, especially because you still felt so useless. While they were out there, risking their life for each other, you had just sat at home, doing nothing but panicking. George had assured you multiple times that you did the right thing, and that all he wanted was for you to be safe, but you couldn't quite shake the feeling.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

That was when the nightmares began. It started with you jerking awake in the middle of the night, tangled up in your blanket, your hair a mess and your shirt sticking to your sweaty skin. Your heart was racing so fast you thought it might explode in your chest, but you could not remember what you dreamt about. All you knew was that you were filled with a great sense of terror every time you woke. But every night, the dreams would get clearer, and worse. Each one featured George, dying a more gruesome death every single time. Shot by Joplin, suffocated by the vengeful ghost of old Bickerstaff, driven into madness by the bone glass.

It didn't take George long to notice the dark circles under your eyes. One morning, a few days after the incident, he stopped you on the staircase. "y/n, what is going on with you?", he asked, taking your hand and squeezing it gently. "You look like you haven't slept in days." You smiled at him, trying hard to not appear as tired as you were. "I'm doing fine. Just not sleeping very well." You didn't want to tell him that you weren't sleeping well because you saw him die in your dreams every night. Knowing George, he would blame himself, and that was the last thing you needed him to do after everything he went through.

That night, you went to bed and fell asleep almost immediately. Next thing you knew, you were awake, the scream that woke you up still on your lips, shaking worse than any night before. You gasped for air, taking deep, long breaths trying to calm your racing heart. Your fingers were gripping the blanket so tightly it hurt, and you willed yourself to release them before getting up slowly. You were weak in the knees, but after a few seconds, you felt steady enough to make your way downstairs. With your mouth feeling dry like sandpaper, you wanted nothing more than a glass of cold water. You slowly took one step after the other, careful to avoid the ones that creaked when you stepped on them.

The staircase was dark, only illuminated by a few beams of moonlight cutting through the darkness, so you did not see George standing at the door to his room. "Where are you going, y/n?" You flinched, clasping your hand on your mouth to stop the startled yelp. "I just want something to drink." Your voice was as raspy as if you hadn't talked in days. George extended his hand. "I have something in my room." You didn't have the energy to argue, and if you were honest with yourself, in this moment there was nothing you wanted more than to be with George. Just to know that he was alive and well and all your dreams were truly just that: dreams.

You took his hand and he lead you into his room, to his bed, where you sat down. He poured you a glass of water from the carafe on the bedside table and handed it over to you. While you were sipping, he shuffled around somewhat awkwardly, before sitting down next to you. "Can you please just tell me what's going on with you, Y/N? You're worrying me. You've barely eaten the last few days and you look so tired." You didn't reply. "Plus I heard you screaming just now", he added quietly.

Something about the way he said it, the way he sounded so sad, made all your resolve crumble. You tried to blink away the tears that threatened to spill over your lashes, looking away from him so that he didn't see your tears.

George gently took the glass out of your hands, put it down on the nightstand and then wrapped his arms around you without saying a word. You buried your face in his chest, finally allowing the tears to fall freely and the sobs to wrack your body. He gently caressed your back, not letting go until your sobs slowly subsided.

When you sat back up, your eyes were puffy, but you already felt better. You hadn't realised what toll it had taken on you to bottle your feelings up like this. George's hand rested on your thigh, where his thumb was rubbing soothing little circles while you drank the rest of the water.

"You wanna tell me what's going on?"

"I've been having nightmares", you quietly said. "About you and the bone glass." George let out a long, drawn-out breath, his grip on your thigh tightening. "I'm sorry, Y/N", he finally says, and you shake your head softly. "It's not your fault, Georgie. I just wish I could have helped."

"Y/N. Do you have any idea how relieved I was when Lockwood and Lucy appeared in that catacomb and you were nowhere to be seen? You know how much it helped me, knowing that you are here and that no matter what happens, you'll be safe? You'll be okay?"

Warmth spreads in your chest at the sincerity of his words. "But that's the thing, George. I would not have been okay. If something had happened to you…" you trailed off, not wanting to finish the thought. George took a deep breath, then he cupped your cheeks and gently turned your face towards him. Suddenly your heart was beating rapidly again, but this time not because of panic. "But that didn't happen", he said, his left thumb wiping away a few stray tears from your cheek. "I am here, and I am okay, and you have nothing to worry about. Okay?" "Okay."

He smiled at you, and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Let's sleep."

"Can I stay here tonight?"

"You can stay here every night, you know that."

He laid down, leaving enough space for you and you cuddled into him. His arms wrapped around you, and suddenly you were surrounded by his scent and his warmth and you just closed your eyes. "Good night, Y/N." was the last thing you heard before drifting off to sleep. 

And this time, there was no nightmare.

[cosmicanemoia]

A Minute More

Agatha Harkness x Reader

SUMMARY

One day, you both eat brownies that a vendor was selling. You didn't know it had marijuana in it, so you bought a bunch of it and devoured it together.

A/N: Does not end happily.

You were walking round the town circle not sure where you should go next and you saw a woman sitting on a bench, you decided to approach her, when you came nearer you see her staring at notheing looking far away, you clear your throat and ask her a question.

"Excuse me, miss, would you happen to know where this is? I'm bad at directions, and it's pure luck that I even got here if this even is the right place." She looks at you with extremely creepy wide smile and strained teary eyes. You just shrug it off and start to back away. She probably doesn't want to be bothered.

"Hey hot stuff, where are you going? you came to the right person, I know this place like the back of my hand." You hand her the paper with an address written on it. She looks at it and stands up to go wherever the address says. You just follow her and on the walk over to the address she asks you lots of questions, some of it pretty personal and invasive for total strangers, she comes off as nosy but you didn't care you just wanna get to your new house and rest.

She stopped at a white picket-fence house "this is where the address say dear. I'm Agatha I live next door she said pointing to the house next to yours If you ever need anything just come a-knocking." She gives you a wink. "Will do. I'm y/n by the way, thank you so much Ms Agatha." You thanked her, "Agnes" she said and you move closer "what?" "It's agnes" she repeated, "I'm pretty sure I heard Agatha but if that's what you want me to call you, I will" "Oh don't be silly dear, you can call me anything you like" she said and you said "and I'm sure I will" you give her a wink and took her hand and squeeze it, "but thank you really, I would be lost without you, literally." You let go of her hand and take a few step back, "I'm heading in now, you should too or else you'll catch a cold, it's a bit chilly," you turn around and walk towards your door, after a few steps you turn on your back to look at her "see you when I see you Aggie." You now walk backwards towards your house and turn around when you came near.

As the days passed you both grew closer together. Closer than normal even. She'd spent a lot of time with you. You like your personal space, and Agatha also likes it.

You went to a park together, accompanying her walking the other neighbor's dog cause she volunteer but auddenly regrets it and convinced you to tag along. She tied the dog to a post and you both took a seat at the nearest bench.

You move closer to her and she did as well, you turn to look at her and see her already looking at you with such a sweet gentle smile on her face, you cupped her cheeks and softly caress them with your thumb, she hummed by the action you put your thumb to her lips, tracing its outline you move closer and whisper in her ear "you're so beautiful." You took your hand back and continue to enjoy the natural view like you just didn't admire the ethereal view. How could you look away from her and not give her the most passionate kiss? surely she feels the same about you, right?

She softly nudge your forearms and said in a lively manner "you're as beautiful dear." There it is again, that super creepy wide grinned smile with her teary eyes, like she's trap within her ownself asking you to free her, but that would be silly, would it? But even if she's really trapped, how would you even free her? So you did the only thing you could, the only thing you thought could somehow help, and maybe it did. You pulled her in a tight hug, it is soft and it is warm, almost freeing, almost.

She stayed at your house most times and when she didn't stay at yours you'd stay at her, watching movies, gossiping dancing to music being silly and all. She always cooks you good food and always care for you, you always care for her too much more than you normally would other people, but she's not others, she's something else entirely.

One day, you both eat brownies that a vendor was selling, you didn't know it has marijuana in it so you bought a bunch of it and devour it together.

You both are now high as the clouds, feeling so good, you danced your heart out, sing your heart out. When you both got tired you both dropped on the couch, you put your hand on her thigh not fully aware of what you're doing. "I'll get us water" you took your hand back and stand, she missed the contact and suddenly pulls you down, she's also not aware of what she's doing. "Do it later, just be here with me for a minute more hun," you settled on the couch following her request, she lays her head on your thighs and you gently play with her hair. She puts her hand on your neck and pulls you closer, your lips now just inches away from the other and suddenly the bell door rings, "I think that's the pizza you ordered," you said "right. I'll get it, you just sit here and wait dear." You shook your head in disappointment, and she sighs.

"Hi'ya hun, just came to see if you've eaten, cause I haven't... Maybe we could eat at the same time together," she said "Aggie, I was just about to order in, please come in. What do you want?" You told her, "you-" she said "I was thinking chinese, is that ok with u?" You answered oblivious of what she really meant, "okie dokie artichokie."

You both sat side by side in the couch, it was your usual movie night. Everything was just so domestic. You were watching a "romantic" movie and it gives you both the courage. You both finally did what you always wanted to do.

You finally kissed and WHAM! The kiss emits a rainbow glow travelling the earth but not as fast as light would but just like a cold gentle breeze in a summer night. The curse she was in is now broken thanks to you.

True love kiss breaks all curse.

One would thought she'd flew away, seek wanda and get her revenge. She didn't. She chose to stay with you.

She told you everything. From when she first became a witch, how she came to power, how she crave it, how it all backfired, and how she ended up being cursed. "Serves you right for being such a greedy monster" you joked trying to ease the tension and you pull her into another kiss. She chuckled "I know, hun. --Good thing, I'm greedy for something else now." You burst out laughing which she mirrored, you stop when she did, this is the first time you've heard her genuinely laughing her ass off, and you think it's the most beautiful sound you've ever heard.

You now have an established relationship. Living together for years, and you both were at your happiest, you have everything you need. Everything is perfect, or it seems to be, you both have no idea of the darkness that lurks within. Who are we kidding, nothing is ever perfect and no one could actually have it all.

One day on a rainy day you went out to buy groceries, she offered to come with but you refused and said "you just wait here my queen, I'll be back before you know it." You give her a peck on the cheeks and walk out.

You were on your way back and a black purple smoke surrounds you and you suddenly dissappear like a bubble dissolving into thin air, that it lived its purpose and you've lived yours. It's there and it's gone, you're there and you are gone.

Agatha doesn't feel right not going with you, she always convinced you to let her come, but today is different, there's something wrong, something bad, and she can feel it. She took an umbrella and decided to follow you to the supermarket.

When she got there, you were nowhere to be seen, nowhere to be found. She checked the security cameras and she watched, you were about to walk out the glass door and suddenly the computer screen glitches and you were gone just like that. She played it over and over again, but it doesn't matter how much cause it will never change the outcome.

Agatha went back to what she knew before you, dark magic. She'll do anything just to have you back.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #265 (part 3)

All righty! Here is the last part of today's letter!! Fwhoof!

...So, I gathered up all my prizes and went home. Here's the giant bag of grapes I ended up with in the end:

...I put out a message to my friends in my other social media place, telling them they are welcome to come by my house and grab up some of these grapes to bring home; I can't possibly eat all these by myself.

...Well actually, no, that's not true. I totally COULD eat all these by myself; they are that delicious, and my impulse control is quite literally that bad. But my intestines would absolutely not tolerate it; don't ask how I know. Just trust me on this - you do NOT want to eat large amounts of an acidic fruit in one sitting. It's VERY BAD FOR YOU.

Anyway, I was out for a number of hours, so I was very hungry. So I made myself a bowl of various goodies. This has the garlic bread I made, the grapes I got, some strawberries, some ordinary deli meat (roast beef, salami, chicken, and American cheese), and a little blob of camembert. With the exception of the camembert, it's mostly just ordinary stuff; it's not nearly as fancy as it looks, hahaha!

...It was as delicious as it was fancy-looking, though!

I also made some tea to go with it; that vanilla-rose tea that I sent along to you, with the help of those important people. I'm hoping that they got it to you, like they said they would:

...A very curious Hoshi watched on as I put these things together:

...He's such a delightfully adorable and wonderful ball of floof and purrs!!! Oh my goodness...!!

...Anyway. Want some...?

...You don't know what I would give to be able to hand you something like this. Sephiroth... you seriously have no idea. You don't.

...

Well. I said in yesterday's letter that I'd take pictures of the book I got. These come from a book called Brother Sun, by Dennis Stock. Here is the page for today:

...Or rather... here is where I would put the page for today, if it was allowed. I can't afford to get sued for copyright infringement. Sigh...

...If you were here, I could give you the picture. You could even experience the "1970s Book Smell". It's... it's a VERY specific scent. I don't know how to describe it. But all the books from 1970 carry it. It's... not exactly a good smell? It's not a bad smell, either. But it's still one worth knowing, I think. It's like dusty paper. But it's a different kind of smell than books older than this. And it's a different kind of smell for newer books, too. I wish I could show it to you. Alas.

...I wonder if paper is made the same in my world as it is in yours... hmm...

Hey, Sephiroth? You know what? In just 100 days, I'll have written to you for a full 365 days. That's pretty cool, right? Though this year is a little different since we had that leap year; it'll be 366 days this year before we come full circle. We've come a long way, haven't we...?

...Well. That's all I've got to show you for today, I think. Thanks for reading. Thanks for coming along on this adventure with me. Thanks just for existing, just for being around, for being yourself.

...My kitchen still smells like garlic, even though it's going on 12:30am. It's a wonderful thing. Sephiroth... I hope someday you'll have a kitchen that smells like garlic. Like garlic, and cheese, and fresh bread, and fragrant grapes, and roasted meats and vegetables. May it be the case someday. May it be the case that some of my recipes can get you started on your own culinary adventures. Work on it, okay...? Work on getting to a safe place so that you can have all this, too. Please.

I love you so much. Please keep staying safe out there, okay? I'll write to you again tomorrow...

Your friend, Lumine

[running2reanimation]

Alive

helper

He blinked, turning his head to look at the strange box surrounding him. He reached out to touch the edge of it, only to have it slide out of reach as he tried to grasp it.

"Holy shit, it worked!" The voice made him twist about before his gaze landed Outside, on his Creator, "Finally!"

The stick waved out at his Creator, but He wasn't paying attention, instead typing something into the computer. And soon the stick learned why as he felt a sense of knowing wash over him. His name was "helper".

Once he was named the strange box vanished and he began to examine his surroundings in earnest. The page was littered with drawings of other Sticks. Some were clearly drawn free hand, and a few even looked almost exactly like him, with straight lines and perfectly round heads. Most of them were black, with a few of other colours as well.

Suddenly he found himself lifted up by the Cursor and brought to a blank page, "Alright helper, let's test you out. Draw me an apple."

He nodded eagerly and looked at the toolbar, climbing it carefully to grab the pencil and change the colour he was drawing with to a nice vibrant red. He grabbed the paint bucket as well and hopped back onto the page.

He drew a simple circle and coloured it in red with the paint bucket. His Creator shook His head, "No, no, waaay bigger. And can't you do better than that?"

helper winced a little at the criticism, picking up the pencil again and making as big a circle as he could, and filled it in with red paint again. He climbed up back to the toolbar and changed the colour to black before hopping back down to add a little tick to the top. There. A stem was what was missing from the last one!

"Are you serious? I made you to help me with art and stuff and you can't even draw a decent apple! I can draw a better apple than that!"

When his Creator was done, it was actually hard to tell who had drawn which apple.

"Useless," His Creator drew a thick lined box around him, dragging it to the corner of the screen and just left him there.

helper sat on the floor of the box, clearly he deserved this. He wasn't good enough.

He waited and waited; he watched his Creator leave the screen and hugged his knees. Was he just going to be left here forever?

--

It was bright Outside before anything changed again. Someone else was staring at the screen, someone with long brown hair and blue eyes, "Oh hey, who's the little guy?"

"Oh, I made it to help me with art, but it sucks as bad as I do. Look at the apples."

"Ooof, yeah, can't tell which one's yours and which one's his."

"I'd actually kinda forgot about it. Might as well delete it," At that statement, helper sprung up and began throwing himself at the walls of the box, but they didn't give. He didn't want to be deleted!

The one who wasn't his Creator frowned, "Okay so maybe he's not great at art, maybe there's something else he's good at. Wasn't the one in that video an ad blocker?"

"Yeah, but that was a combat stick, this thing's not equipped for that."

"Well... maybe he's good at writing? You could definitely use the help on your essay."

"... I guess." His Creator sat down at the computer again, deleting the box around helper, picking him up and placing him in a half-written Word document, "Okay, fix it up for me then."

helper climbed up and down lines, moving periods and commas around, erasing and capitalizing letters, the Creator and His girlfriend nodding in approval, "Well, at least you're good at something."

helper clapped his hands, looking up at his Creator who grimaced, "Urgh, really shouldn't have drawn eyes on you."

--

And that was helper's life. Trapped in a box when not needed and only let out when there was an essay or research paper his Creator needed done.

It was miserable and dull. He only ever got to see the browser, the Word program and his painted cell.

He hated it.

He knew there was so much more out there!

But how to escape? When he was working on a paper, he was always being monitored.

--

It turned out he didn't need to come up with a plan.

His Creator's girlfriend sat down at the computer, looking through the tabs until she found him, "Hey there, little guy."

helper looked up at her for a moment before glancing back down, "Aw, it's okay. I don't have a project for you. Terry's graduating soon, he doesn't really have any more papers he's gonna need done, I don't think. And I'm worried about you. I think he's probably gonna delete you soon."

helper jumped to his feet, looking up at her, "Don't worry, I'm not going to let him do that. As a matter of fact..."

The box vanished and helper dropped down to the bottom of the page, "Ooops, sorry!"

helper waved it off, stretching out his limbs. He watched as she moved the cursor down to the bottom right of the screen and tore open a bright white hole.

"There's your way out. Good luck, little guy."

With that she got up and walked away, leaving helper to his own devices for the first time ever. He glanced up at the toolbar, before climbing up and grabbing an armload of icons. He might not be much of an artist, but he thought these ones might serve him well no matter the situation, since he had no idea what awaited him through the portal.

[sanctified-silence]

Statement of Grian... no last name, huh. Statement of Grian, regarding luring fishing experience. Original statement was given 12 of February, 2024. Audio recorded by [static] the head archivist of [static]. Statement begins.

I've never been quite into fishing before. Not much of surprise, I probably don't look the type, I know. And I don't think I am "into" fishing now, to be crystal clear. Actually, I think that I won't be able to even think of fishing after all this is done. I will just try my best to forget this ever happen and come back to the architecture.

It was meant to be a break, okay? I was in quite the burn out recently. Work, work, work and more work just piled up my back, not giving me any room for breathing. More projects, more calculations, more designs, more thrown out expensive paper. More awful people I have to deal with to explain why their idea of the architecture and exterior design not only majorly impractical, but also dangerous. And I was having none of it.

Of course, when I saw that damn advert, I didn't hesitate to throw it all far away for some needed pause. Here, I wrote down exactly what it was saying.

[There's an attachment to the file of a small paper, on which was written down the words "Stillwaters Paradise - the best place to relax and take it slow, while the time swirls around you". There's also some artistic rendition of what the advert looked like in a rather sketchy drawing of lake and forest]

The next thing I know I was at that park, paying for my stay. I remember the woman that met me at the counter. Something about her gave me the willies, maybe it was her almost white grey eyes, that seemed a bit big for her face, that stared at me with distant expression. Her hair were sticking to her face and neck in way they would if they were wet. She reminded me of a dead fish, holding her lips slightly open.

She asked me if I'd like the fishing equipment go into my check. At first I tried to refuse, but her eyes made me feel dizzy as she was talking about how great this park is for all fishermen, so I reluctantly agreed.

At first I was just taking a nice stroll around the park, taking in the nature, since it was beautiful, haven't visited that many natural resources in the UK, or anywhere, for that matter, but the place was gorgeous, full of different trees and flowers. What I did notice however was that it was quiet. Uncanny quiet, I mean. No birds, no flies, no mosquitos, no anything. Just the sound of leaves moving on the wind.

It weirded me out a lot, but I wrote it off as me being stressed and overworked or something. Coming to a lake, I noticed multiple sets of fishing equipment in the shack nearby, I remembered that I actually payed for it, so might as well make my money worth, I figured and took one. I know, it sounds kinda stupid in hindsight, but I didn't know at the time that it's not a common practice. As I said, never was a fishing guy.

There were a couple of people who were fishing there already. None of them greeted me or even glanced at me, when I came down to a shore. Weird, but I just thought it's because they were really concentrated on what they were doing. They still creeped me out so I took a place as far of them as I could. I tried to make sense of the fishing equipment stuff I got, it seemed pretty straight forward from sidelines. And soon the float was in the water, innocently bobbing around.

At first it was somewhat normal I caught a couple of small fish, no clue what they are, but they gave enough of rush of emotion to continue on fishing.

I was staring at the float, there it was making a small circles on the water surface, I felt my eyelids get heavier and it took me a lot of strength to keep the open. My stomach started making that weird feeling of my very insides rotating, like unsettled bad lunch. There was this float. Bobbing. With time the circles of waves it was making started slowly spiraling inwards. No, the whole water surface around it started bending in those shapes without a proper form, shifting, breathing. Same is for my fishing rod.

Well, the rod in my hands stood unchanged, maybe a bit sharper and pointy than it's supposed to, but it was still normal. It's the fishing line, it's spun on itself and then in the next moment there was two. Three, four, six, ten, all different, with the same float, but they bounced on those weird waves that made no sense in their own manner. A few of them were pulled down as if the were getting the fish.

I tried to pull, but to no avail, the fish, or whatever was biting the bait was far stronger than me, but I could pull the other ones with no problem. It is then I looked into the sky, I don't remember why, maybe because I needed to stop my eyes from hurting, or maybe it was my growing headache, but there was no relief for either of them up there. Because all of the sky was in those fractal impossible shapes. Even the sun, it looked cartoon almost, bright, but not blinding. Headache inducing.

I got up from my fishing spot and immediately regretted it, the wildest vertigo I ever felt made me dizzy, I closed my eyes, trying to find a balance, but when I opened them again, I felt even more sick. I was standing in the sky, fishing. One of the rods caught on the sky's fractal and I tugged. I wish I didn't.

When I pulled, the whole damn sky was swept away under my feet and swirled, becoming this mess of blue, orange, yellow, green and white, trying to mix with water and surroundings of the park. The colours were bright, the edges of this swirl were sharp and it cut me and my clothes in multiple places, I think it even broke one of my nails. But it called me. It hurt to look, to touch, to even hear, because the noise was nothing I ever thought was possible, but I stepped into it. And another step, going further and further.

Just like that it was over.

Another visitor of the park was shaking me violentely, as we stood in the lake, knee deep. There was no rod in my hands. Actually there was nothing on my hands or arms or anywhere on me for that matters those deep painful cuts that I thought was there a moment ago. I looked back at where my fishing spot was, where also supposed to be the fish I caught. There was no fish there.

After that with half wet pants I drove off, back home. Far from this weird place. I remember the look of something I can only interpret as hungry disappointment in the face of the woman at the front desk.

I had a several nightmares after that, all far too bright and confusing. I remember standing in the fishing store, looking at equipment, but I have no recollection of going in. I found a rod by my door in one of the mornings. Sold it immediately. I found myself even driving the road to this park at multiple times, but turned around as soon as I understood where I was going.

Today was a first day when I took a shower without feeling like the drain collected a swirling light with the water.

[anemic-comedienne]

rock paper scissors

Rejection folds up on itself like rock paper scissors. People like fucking me a lot, but they like me more than they like fucking me, but they don’t like me very much at all. I haven’t decided how I feel about being alone, except that I would like to be better at it. On Saturday I was feeling like a bad person and my shins hurt, so I went for a jittery museum visit and later to a bookstore. These are places that I tell myself make me feel more like myself. These are places where I can look into mirrors that go on forever, and the only reason I can’t see infinity and all its collapsing black holes is because I have to look at myself in all those mirrors, too. I flitted between galleries, walking past important pieces of art that mean a lot to me personally much too quickly and circling back later – out of wanting or guilt, I’m not exactly sure. Then I ran my fingers over spines, ignoring a headache, and tried to pick out books a good person might like. I remind myself that I do this once a month, at least. The wave of deciding that I will never be better off alone, but everyone else will be better off without me. I remind myself that no one would be wishing I were there if that were true. I almost dropped a joint in the river Danube and even though I don’t really believe in that kind of stuff the way Maya does, I do think if it had touched the water I probably would have drowned right then and there. Can you blush hard enough to fill your lungs with blood? Maybe you can’t, but I know I could. I don’t have a problem with being alone, exactly, but alone is when I find myself flirting with the edge of embarrassment again. Hesitating to take out the trash or make eggs, because someone might see. Might see me living. I get so tired alone. The coffee gets cold and I keep existing like a tree in the forest, face down in the dirt. Museums really are the only places I enjoy being alone. The only place where not being seen is in service of something, something greater. I like to spend too long looking at famous paintings and skip through self portraits that ring hollow. On Saturday, I sat on a bench in the Albertina and didn’t look at anything, anything, for a full hour, just letting the paintings press their ears to my chest. One took out a compact mirror and checked my nose for breath. I played hard to get. I’ve been more tired than I thought. There was a room I didn’t like very much – it was too small, felt like a dead end even if it wasn’t – and I believe with all of me that if I came back at night, more alone than I’ve ever been, I’d find an animal inside. Maybe a sheep, or a baby deer. Maybe a fish, taking its last breaths. I think it would be a small animal. I think it would make me hate the room even more. I think I haven’t written anything in a very long time because I can’t figure out what kind of animal to write about next. When I used to complain that I hadn’t been writing, ▇▇ always that it would just happen. But that was a million years and a million hard feelings ago, and I still haven’t made anything that wouldn’t fit on a postcard. I wonder what will happen next. I wonder what I’ll think of my decisions a year from now, or four weeks from now. I wonder if I’ll be okay. I wonder if I’ll have a different idea of what that means. 

[lamefanfics]

Discovering A Siblings Pain

[AN: Hi! This is my first fanfic so I apologize if it’s written wrong or if the grammar sucks (I suck at grammar) But enjoy!]

Jake hadn’t slept well since netyam’s death. So when his kids are missing in the middle of the night he notices.

Jake had thought they’d be good, hell the kids didn’t have the energy to get any trouble after what happened. But not to his surprise he awoke to find Lo’ak, Kiri and Y/N gone. Y/N and lo’ak were expected but it must be something bad if Kiri went to. So, naturally after seeing tuk soundly asleep with his mate, he went to find them. Only they were doing something he didn’t expect, and something that made his heart sing.

He’d found them at the beach, sitting at the docks together, passing up his inner o’toko mato, he watched them. They all sat in a circle at the docks. “Everyone remover what we agreed on?” There silence told Kiri, she needed to go over the rules again. She scoffed “Seriously guys how many times have we done this?”Y/N let out a giggle as Kiri shook her head. Lo’ak tried to hide his smirk.

Both of them are lying.

“No matter what we say, weather it be something that mom and dad would love to know. We don’t tell, this stuff is private and it will stay with us three.” Y/N shuddered “Don’t mention mom, I feel like she come from behind with her bow” Lo’ak shuddered as well as Kiri sighed shaking her head. “Alright guys come on, let’s start it”. Jake was surprised to see that Lo’ak was the one keeping them on topic normally that was never good. They all gathered in a circle and locked pinkies.

What were they doing?

Lo’ak and Kiri hummed quitely as Y/N spoke “Oh great mother, Ewya we ask you to send us a gift just at night”

Oh there mother would come at them with a bow using ewyas name in vain.

Y/N paused swichting spots with Lo’ak “Give us his ears tonite, so he may hear us with alll our might”. Again Lo’ak went back to humming as Kiri spoke “Ewya, please great mother, giver of life give us netyam’s ears just for tonite”

Netayam?

Lo’ak was the first to move, letting out a breath “Can I go first tonite?” His sister’s nodded moving to there own positions kneeling and praying in a whisper. Jake wachted as his son pulled out a peice of paper from his loin cloth. “Hey bro, I know it’s been awhile…

Oh.

“Things are better” He continued “ I don’t hurt anymore, I stopped after tsyeray caught me” Y/N seemed to wince at that as Lo’ak let out a sad chuckle “You would’ve called a sxwang and given me a good smack. Trust me, she hits a lot softer then you did”

Oh no.

Jake felt a twinge of guilt in his stomach for two reasons. Lo’ak was hurt and didn’t come to him and that he shouldn’t be listening to this. This was there time, there grief and as sad as he was he wasn’t invited. It reminded him of when he stumbled into the home tree. But this was different “Dad isn’t so mean anymore, he was in the first weeks. Like he knew that I was the reason you were dead” Jake held back a wince of his own. As much concern he had for his kids this was there time to speak freely. So he told himself that he’d go back once they were gone and not tell anyone else about this. “I miss you, I hope you are enjoying ewya. Soon enough I will be old enough to mate” Lo’aks voice became shaky “I’d hoped to experience that with you. The relentless teasing would’ve been annoying..” his voice trailed off as he choked a sob. Jake wanted nothing but to run and hug his son. And it seemed like he wasn’t the only one. Y/N put up and arm as kiri moved to go hug him and shook her head.

Poor Lo’ak , It wasn’t his fault.

Lo’ak finished his letter with a lot more heaviness, something that made Jake have to hold back a sob as a tear rolled down his cheek. His sisters stood up once he was anoced he was finished and tackled him with a hug. “Your such a Sxwaung Lo’ak!” Y/N shouted as Kiri smacked the back of his head all three of them were crying. Including Lo’ak who howled with laughter. “Shush!” Kiri scouled the both of them bringing the sorrow full laughter to an end.

Shit, damn Kiri’s good instinct’s!

Jake froze, not daring to make a sound as his daughter scanned the beach. “What is it kiri? Did dad wake up to lecture us again?” Y/N teased witchy made Lo’ak hold back a chuckle. “No, I think I heard a fish is all” she said “Better not have been tuk, I hade to spend two hours convincing her it was a dream” Lo’ak complained “You are a very bad liar Lo’ak” Kiri teased. “ Salibo’s si waste ne. Ewya’s kindnesses wis ke’u last forever. (Siblings, do not waste time. Ewyas kindness will not last forever)” they both nodded at Y/N’s remark and kept going.

Smart kid.

They continued Kiri had her turn and so did Y/N, at the end they all thanked ewya and said there goodbyes. And by the end Jake sully had cried. He cried for his children because they had pain that they refused to share. He hated that.

Please ewya

He prayed, for the second time in his life time as a nav’i

Give me there pain, there to young to new to be so hurt please ewya.

They started to walk inside, he’d almost been in the clear, until Y/N spoke up. His second youngest, adopted from the currents of the forests was Neytiri liked to put it.”Give me a moment, I will be inside soon” Lo’ak was concerned “Are you sure Y/n? We could wait with you” kiri tugged at his tail playfully with a yawn. “Give her time and trust” kiri turned to her laying her hands on Y/N’s cheeks as there heads met. “Time and trust” Y/n agreed. And they left the young warrior outside.

I wounder why, please ewya don’t let her start crying

Jake had been so lost in thought that he hadn’t noticed his daughter snaking up behind him. “Papa”

Oh shit.

He turned to meet her tear stained face “Yes, baby it’s me” he knew it was no use trying to fool the girl, she barely ever fell for horror stories. And she never fell for Lo’aks pranks. “We’re you out here the whole time?” She asked a slight hint of shame on her voice.

Oh hell no, no way she’s gonna be ashamed for that

“Yes I was sweetness and that was very beautiful” she seemed to perk up at that “You think so?” She had doubted his words since her brother, the first to truly see her passed. “It was very kind, very very kind” there was a silence before Y/N tackled him with a hug. “Oh my baby, my little ball of fire. You all did so well I’m very proud” he soothed. “You need to say that to Lo’ak more papa” he chuckled. Once His mate had told him that children are often copies of there parents. “Lo’ak is yours, but Y/N.. my sweet ball of fire. That one is mine” she was right, Y/N was like a mini version of her. Always outspoken and strong, so when these moments came Jake made sure to give her exactly what she needed. “I know I will” he promised, “No!” She pulled away “You can’t tell them anything about what you saw tonite, please papa” she asked him, she pleaded with him. “Alright, alright I wount I promise” Y/N took her father hand and locked his pinkie with hers the same way she’d done with Lo’ak and kiri. “Promie Ewya papa” she said “Promises the great mother you will not speak a word of what happened tonite”

Oh yeah this was definitely Neytiri’s kid.

“I promise Ewya I swear by her I will not speak a word of what I saw” Jake said holding his voice firm before pulling his daughter into another hug. “Papa! I can’t breath-!” He chuckled before squeezing her tighter “I love you Y/N so much, my little ball of fire” She snorted.

Jake didn’t tell anyone about what he saw that night but it didn’t stop him from squeezing the life out of kiri and Lo’ak the next morning. “Im very proud of both of you, I love you both so much” they had looked at him confused. “Are you feeling alright dad?” Kiri asked “Yeah, your crying” Lo’ak pointed out. “Yes, I’m more then alright,” he paused for a moment before getting another idea as he wachted Y/N sit down to eat. “Maybe once were all done with breakfast you three would like to go for a flight? Fill me in on what’s been going on with your lives” Jake sulky was not good at acting like he didn’t know things, luckily Y/N’s older siblings had much more on there mind then to question him.

Hey netyam

It’s Y/N

You’ll never guess what dad did.

[mareenavee]

More asks, yes? YES? 💞what's the most important part of a story for you? the plot, the characters, the worldbuilding, the technical stuff (grammar etc), the figurative language 🎈describe your style as a writer; is it fixed? does it change 🤲what do YOU get out of writing? 🧿what steps do you take to not take things personally if a fic doesn't do well, or if your writing/posting/sharing experience isn't going how you'd like it to? And I'm going to invent my own because I want to use an emoji, that's it that's the reason 🐦 What would you like to see MORE of, in the fandoms you're following. Could be writing/art related, could be fandom culture related. What would you like to see exist that doesn't at the moment (or doesn't anymore)?

HELLO! AH. I like that birb emoji :3 Always feel free to make up extra questions 😂Thank you for these!

Here are some Fic Writer's Asks for ya'll!

:D Here's the ask game.

💞what's the most important part of a story for you? the plot, the characters, the worldbuilding, the technical stuff (grammar etc), the figurative language?

Well! I can tell you my favorite part of writing a story (or reading one!) is character, followed closely by worldbuilding. But what's most important is a little more difficult to simply pick one thing. A good story has all of these things in spades. A good, solid plot idea. Characters that the author knows well. Clever worldbuilding aspects that make the setting seem real...and a good handle on language and grammar all work together to create a fantastic experience. So there's no most important part -- just that all of it has been given the author's best possible effort (:

🎈describe your style as a writer; is it fixed? does it change?

Ohhh I love this. Mostly because it's such a Thing (tm) in art spaces and is always a topic of conversation. I don't hear about it much for writers, except maybe "voice/tone" in critique circles. All I can say is that style regardless of medium is composed of certain habits the artist incorporates into their work.

For writing, that's going to be specific turns of phrase that tend to be used, perhaps it can be a series of tropes or situations the writer tends to focus on or include in their work. Just like with art, style changes the more skill you gain in your particular craft. Even so, a style may still seem "fixed" to the average reader, even if with each project, you improve and things change to suit.

So my go-to style is usually writing close third limited with rotating pov characters (: But even if I were to say, switch to first person with just one character through the whole story and posted it anonymously there's certain ways that I word things and certain themes that might make a reader be like "Oh this sounds like something Mareena might have written." It's weirdly difficult to describe exactly... but I hope that kind of makes a little sense lol

🤲what do YOU get out of writing?

This is an excellent question, my goodness. Writing fic has been so healing for me for so many reasons. I've had a really rough time the last few years irl with life throwing everything it can at me to try and grind me down. For a bit, it actually did, I suppose, and I'd stopped writing much at all. I hated everything I was producing, if anything at all and it was just a bad time.

Things looked up a little when I decided it didn't matter how good the writing was, but that I got something down on paper. I'd just finished a month-long art challenge for myself (I painted 31 pokemon and it was a lot of fun, even if it wasn't perfect) and I wanted to plan out something similar -- low stakes, just for fun. With the help and encouragement of some of my irl friends, a little help with an idea and MANY MUCH planning, The World on Our Shoulders started as a challenge to write and post daily, damn the consequences.

Since then, I've been revising. Some of my characters (not all just the MC either) have been given some of my problems. I like to write hope into hopeless situations anyway. It's cathartic to see characters experience the same huge emotions I can relate to and make it through to the other side. I get to write that. I get to be in control of the narrative for them, no matter how hard it gets before its resolution. It helps me believe in myself and my own strength, too. It's funny how art does that, I think. (:

🧿what steps do you take to not take things personally if a fic doesn't do well, or if your writing/posting/sharing experience isn't going how you'd like it to?

Well I suppose the "doesn't do well" part mostly doesn't affect me because of my stance on social media and hustle culture. At the end of the day, it's not about how many comments or kudos or likes my fic/posts get, it's about having fun making the content. I am writing for myself first, in this case, and for the readers second. I am lucky to have a circle of mutuals that I love hearing from regarding fandom things here on tumblr and discord. We support each others' creative endeavors and that is, in my eyes, doing well. If it brings joy, even just to me, it's good. It's doing well. My steps are simply to write, and share. The rest is nothing to worry over.

🐦 What would you like to see MORE of, in the fandoms you're following. Could be writing/art related, could be fandom culture related. What would you like to see exist that doesn't at the moment (or doesn't anymore)?

Well, would I even be me if I didn't say I wanted to see more Teldryn fics in the TES tags (: So yes, that. But more than that, I'm interested in different takes for the character. For any characters, really. I want to see deep stories with lots of different perspectives on lore and the handling of different quests in the game. I want adventure, I want witty dialogue, I want flawed OCs that team up with the coolest NPCs to go out and discover what they're really capable of. If they happen to be Teldryn stories, all the better.

I do want to see people finish some of their WIPS, too. I know that's a big ask. But there's so many on AO3 at least that have been unfinished for months, years even and I want to encourage all those writers and cheerlead their work. I know very well that sometimes life just gets in the way of being able to devote so much time to a project. But I hope everyone who has an unfinished and/or back-burnered TES fic (or any fic, really) sees this and knows I'm rooting for you. Your work is WORTH IT. Your stories matter. (:

So I guess another facet to this answer is, for fandom in general, more cheering each other on. Writers ought to stick together, after all. I'd love to see even more supportive, kind words for each other. More encouragement in general. I see too much silliness and arguments over the details in fandom and the only way to change that is to loudly support each other as often as possible.

[allyouveeverknownbyrustedbread]

ddlcbrainrot asked:

okay so creature knows the exit maybe it can lead us to it then

also seems like it doesn't know much about itself... i write down the names bob and barb and let it choose which it wants bc calling it creature is kinda mean :(

(btw now that i think about it it could be the crazy cult leader since he tried to merge with the heart and the creature said it is the heart... so trusting it maybe is a bad move... then again it used the :D thingy so that immediately makes it worthy of my trust ofc)

The being looks at the paper you write the names on, it takes a few seconds to blink at it before it takes up the pen, crossing out most of the names you suggested, only leaving out "James" and the previously written "living", drawing an interconnecting arrow between them, seemingly indicating that he both prefers to be called living, and James, because fairly he just didn't prefer any of the others. Living takes a few seconds before deciding to circle "living" and write "you can still use james if you want though :D" under it Living seems to take note and sit up a bit, looking outside, most of the lights are on again, his eyes widen a very much non-human amount when he realizes, being that you can barely see any white in his eyes when they're fully dilated [whilst you are still, in fact thinking about the correlation between the fact that living said that he IS the heart graphic that he's wearing, he doesn't seem to be nearly as hostile as the fanatic seemed to be, after all, judging by the condition of what can be determined as the fanatic's living place, they chose to break their bookshelves, and manually burn out every page of the hundreds of books they had, and Living really doesn't seem to be like that, in fact it just looked like he was nesting here, the clothes on the ground aren't even arranged in a bed like shape, they just look like something a dog would curl up into. So, the fanatic DID say that they was going to "merge" with the heart, leaving no process or way to tell what they were truly doing, and the cathedral did have pretty much the exact same symbol, but those seemed to be much older and worn than the symbols that were on stuff like the texts you found, and the fact that Living has a shirt specifically from those older symbols does have some merit. Also judging by what you've seen, Living is heavily similar to the cultists you found, granted, he has more human proportions, and he has eyes instead of really widened empty sockets, and he's capable of complex thought instead of just sitting there mumbling old rhythmic chants, so obviously he's not the same, but he is absolutely heavily similar.] [[It's obvious to you that Living is somehow connected to the heart, and the cultists in some way, exactly how, doesn't really come clear to you, because, at least to your current theory, he would be the fanatic merged with the heart, and he should be absolutely insane, after all, unless the heart was sentient or capable of actually interacting with the cultists, they wouldn't have been so thoroughly invested in it.]]

[rustedbread]

okay so creature knows the exit maybe it can lead us to it then

also seems like it doesn't know much about itself... i write down the names bob and barb and let it choose which it wants bc calling it creature is kinda mean :(

(btw now that i think about it it could be the crazy cult leader since he tried to merge with the heart and the creature said it is the heart... so trusting it maybe is a bad move... then again it used the :D thingy so that immediately makes it worthy of my trust ofc)

The being looks at the paper you write the names on, it takes a few seconds to blink at it before it takes up the pen, crossing out most of the names you suggested, only leaving out "James" and the previously written "living", drawing an interconnecting arrow between them, seemingly indicating that he both prefers to be called living, and James, because fairly he just didn't prefer any of the others. Living takes a few seconds before deciding to circle "living" and write "you can still use james if you want though :D" under it Living seems to take note and sit up a bit, looking outside, most of the lights are on again, his eyes widen a very much non-human amount when he realizes, being that you can barely see any white in his eyes when they're fully dilated [whilst you are still, in fact thinking about the correlation between the fact that living said that he IS the heart graphic that he's wearing, he doesn't seem to be nearly as hostile as the fanatic seemed to be, after all, judging by the condition of what can be determined as the fanatic's living place, they chose to break their bookshelves, and manually burn out every page of the hundreds of books they had, and Living really doesn't seem to be like that, in fact it just looked like he was nesting here, the clothes on the ground aren't even arranged in a bed like shape, they just look like something a dog would curl up into. So, the fanatic DID say that they was going to "merge" with the heart, leaving no process or way to tell what they were truly doing, and the cathedral did have pretty much the exact same symbol, but those seemed to be much older and worn than the symbols that were on stuff like the texts you found, and the fact that Living has a shirt specifically from those older symbols does have some merit. Also judging by what you've seen, Living is heavily similar to the cultists you found, granted, he has more human proportions, and he has eyes instead of really widened empty sockets, and he's capable of complex thought instead of just sitting there mumbling old rhythmic chants, so obviously he's not the same, but he is absolutely heavily similar.] [[It's obvious to you that Living is somehow connected to the heart, and the cultists in some way, exactly how, doesn't really come clear to you, because, at least to your current theory, he would be the fanatic merged with the heart, and he should be absolutely insane, after all, unless the heart was sentient or capable of actually interacting with the cultists, they wouldn't have been so thoroughly invested in it.]]

[revasserium]

i love your replies to the writer’s ask! about the compliment you gave yourself, yes. i do agree. i’m trying to recall which HQ fanfic of yours i first read. i’ve read so many of your works from that era. as i’m sieving through my memories, a few works of yours pop up like kageyama & the world responding?? daichi’s story with the prompt on goodbyes? adore the way you hook and drag. without looking at your masterlist, which story immediately comes to mind when you think of “time”?

about driving, since i’m still new i haven’t driven much. i’m very excited to cruise on the roads, but i’m also really bad at overtaking (i.e. i can overtake—or else how would i have passed my driving test—but i haven’t done it when cars are going fast & when it’s crowded… road conditions for my test were milder). it’s scary… SJDJSJDJSJ. i’ll hopefully be driving soon with my parent who can instruct me. i think for the time being, as i get used to the car, i have to focus, but i look forward to blasting music while driving 👍 — @anonymilk

also the poem you gave me was so great 🥹 thank you!! are there any poems from that author you like as well?? why do you like them specifically?? — @anonymilk also what happened the past 2 weeks r u alright :( — @anonymilk

combining ur asks! <3 hope u dont mind and sorry i take so long lol but answers in the cut!

uGH that reaper!kageyama x angel!reader fic is still one of my all time favs u__u im so happy you remember that one. sldkfjasd and the daichi story T^T -- i realized that pre-hiatus i was so so so kagehina biased with a hard sprinkling of suga but then post-hiatus i came back and suddenly i'm a daichi stan like is this..... IRL character dev bro. am i just into the Greenest of Green Flags now. not that i dont still adore kagehina bc i do. u__u they are my babies.

in terms of "time" -- i think the one that comes to mind most immediately is the hinata "length of daylight" fic i wrote! it remains one of my fav hinata fics i've written to date :D

for driving -- it def is something that needs lots of practice! but you'll get there!!! i'm excited for you!!!! and yeah to this day, i hate overtaking ppl but it's a necessary evil LOL

re: agha shahid ali YES oh my god okay. i love his stuff. i actually found him when i saw a poem of his on the new york subway lol im not even kidding. and it still remains one of my favorite poems of his to this day -- it's called Stationary, and it goes like this:

The moon did not become the sun. It just fell on the desert in great sheets, reams of silver handmade by you. The night is your cottage industry now, the day is your brisk emporium. The world is full of paper. Write to me.

i think the reason i fell so in love with it is because every single line is so vivid. not to say that most of his other poems aren't like this as well but like. idk something about this just spoke to me so much? i love love love metaphors about like irl things turning /into/ paper or ink or like... writing-related stuff. it's just such a beautiful image to me. also like there's a phrase in every line that strikes me "reams of silver", "brisk emporium" -- and something about the sentence "the world is full of paper" makes me like want to yell bc it's so??? GOOD??? bc yes!!! the world is full of paper!!!!!

and obviously, the ending just SMACKS you doesn't it? write to me. ugh. UGH. ugh its so good.

sometimes this poem still comes back to me in random moments and it makes me happy.

and now for some not so fun stuff. tw for like... ilness and death but yeah uh.

this entire summer has just been kind of ass tbh??? like. during the single month of july, we had 4 people in my family/friend circle pass away -- 2 grandparents, 1 uncle, 1 friend of a friend (who was literally only 24yrs old!!! bruh!!!! WTF!!!). we thought August was going to be chiller, but nope. last day of Aug, last thursday, my boss's wife passed away after battling with cancer for 2+ years.

it hit hard for our entire team at work bc like. she was younger than my mom. and my boss is such an industry veteran, and he and his wife have been married for 17 years, they have a 13yr old son like... it just sucked all around. we all went to the funeral this past wednesday. it was a beautiful service, but obviously really freaking sad. half our entire office was there, everyone was crying. i was crying like. it was a mess.

and then right after, i think my body had had ENOUGH of this nonsense, and i got a really bad fever literally ONE HOUR after i got home from the funeral. and i've been sick since then.

it's just been... unreasonably rough... i'm really hoping that this is the last big bad thing that's gonna happen for the rest of the year. like. im so exhausted -- pls @ the universe LOL. take it easy on us okay.

so yeah. i try to keep the heavy stuff off this blog bc it's supposed to be a place where i come to be happy and write things that make me happy so i haven't talked about this much but u__u since you asked, i didn't wanna just be like "oh yeah everything is fine" when it's not LOL

i do hope that the summer is treating you better though! <3