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hxnbi · 2 days

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❀ not so secret — inumaki toge

synopsis: you and toge were having a secret rendezvous, far away from all the others, or so you both thought

tags: fluff, gn reader

word count: 1.4k

“Look at him… He’s infatuated....”

Maki sighed, rolling her eyes at the scene happening around the corner between you and Toge—that is, if she could even see anything, as Panda was practically blocking her vision.

Just peering from the bushes she and Panda were hiding from, they could see you two—very explicitly, she might mention, holding hands.

She knew something was afoot when Toge grabbed you by the hand the second you finished your dinner and dragged you somewhere, unbeknownst to her. Their curiosity was piqued, only for the two to find you two, alone, sitting together on a bench, enjoying each other's company in the moonlight.

Or so you two thought.

Cue having Maki and Panda staring at you two with wide-eyed eyes and curious spirits. Well, for Panda, anyway.

Now, they were a reasonable distance away—enough to see you two together but not enough to hear a word, and neither could you guys.

Maki squinted her eyes, trying to decipher what exactly was going on between you and Toge through the dense and overgrown foliage that was Panda’s ass.

Your silhouette was barely discernible against all the bushes blocking her view and the dimming twilight in the sky, but the subtle gestures and hushed whispers from both your and Toge’s figures spoke volumes.

Maki leaned in closer, her curiosity piqued despite her initial reluctance. She could not lie. Seeing Toge this intimate with someone was somewhat unexpected, unsettling even. “...Don’t you think that Toge’s demeanour is a lot more, different? We’ve never seen this before from him,” she noted, squinting her eyes at the bench you both were still sitting on, now laughing.

“Shush Maki! We’re getting to the good part!”

Maki sweatdropped at how invested Panda was. At this rate, she may as well think that Panda was also included in your guys’ relationship. “Good part, my ass. The hell are we even stalking them for?”

“For reconnaissance,” Panda replied matter-of-factly.

“Well, yeah. They’re definitely close,” she shrugged begrudgingly, her voice hardly even audible. After all, they were stalking you two from behind the bushes. “But dating? I’m not so sure.”

“What else could it be? Look at the way they’re leaning towards each other like they’re sharing some big secret!” Panda leaned his body forward eagerly, eyes wide with excitement. He appeared to be more invested than Maki was, as if this were all some kind of romance drama in real-time.

But Maki, ever being the voice of reason, remained skeptical, her arms crossed tightly against her chest. “Maybe they’re just friends?” she clicked her tongue sarcastically, still in a whisper. “Ever heard of that? We can’t jump to conclusions based on a few stolen glances.”

But the Panda was undeterred. “I doubt it. I believe that there’s definitely something more. I can feel it in my bones!”

“You’re being delusional.”

“Hello, everyone~!” a voice suddenly interrupted their conversation, startling them into silence.

‘Oh god…’

“It’s your good-looking teacher, Gojo Satoru, here to— What are you both doing, hunched down in the bushes like that? Oh no! Don’t tell me you’re now homeless!”

Maki shot her teacher a withering glare, her patience wearing thin with each passing moment.

“Now, what are you doing here, huh, Satoru?”

“So cruel!” he cried out mockingly, but his trademark arrogance and his shit-eating, mischievous grin were on full display. "I was just thinking of checking in on my favourite students, of course. But it seems like I've stumbled upon something much more interesting."

‘...Ugh.’

That’s it. All hope was lost. A lack of privacy did not exist. Not in Jujutsu Tech, where the most unlikely of people—or animals, for that matter—were always watching.

“Honestly, I didn’t think I’d see them here alone again since the last time,” Gojo hummed.

“They’ve been meeting here in this exact spot for the last four days now,” Maki noted. “You think theres something going on that we don’t know about?”

“Well, of course!” Panda said a matter of factly. “Isn’t it clear that they're dating?”

All eyeballs shifted to the scene where they saw Toge holding your hand close to his face, and you leaned on his shoulder. The intimacy between you two was evident even from a distance from where they were watching.

Toge’s fingers brushed past yours before grabbing them firmly, your fingers intertwining with his. Toge's gaze met yours, and a soft smile graced both your lips. A silent exchange of warmth without an onigiri ingredient was said from Toge in sight.

“Oh shit! They’re getting handsy!” Gojo gasped, seeing this happen first-hand.

“Be quiet,” Maki hissed. “You’re loud-ass is going to get us caught.”

“That's right. We’re just getting to the good part!” Panda added with a playful smirk, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle before them. It was comedic, really.

Maki sighed. There really was no reasoning with those idiots…

Gojo bent over to Maki and Panda. “So, are we just waiting for them to make out?”

A tick mark appeared on Maki and Panda’s faces. ‘This guy…’

Just as they were spying on you two, Panda’s hefty weight, along with the shock of Gojo’s surprise appearance, poured over the scene. But their attempt at stealth was quickly foiled as they toppled over each other like a cascade of dominoes, making a loud noise, something that you two very much picked up on in this seemingly quiet space.

Caught off guard, you and Toge stood up and turned towards the commotion, eyebrows raised in surprise, eyes and ears attuned to the noise that had just come unexpectedly from behind where you once sat.

“What the—”

Maki began to sweat. ‘Just great.’

You and Toge, now standing before the toppled mound of bodies, exchanged a puzzled glance, eyebrows raised in surprise, only to be quickly replaced by amusement at the spectacle unfolding before your eyes.

“Salmon salmon.”

“Huh? Maki, Panda, and— Gojo too!?”

Everyone’s necks turned, only to see you and Toge standing before them, holding hands. You and Toge exchanged knowing glances.

“Ahem…” your eyes flushed in embarrassment, your voice faltering as your hand remained enlaced with Toge’s, glued to the moment. “Did you… see everything?”

Caught red-handed, their faces flushed with embarrassment. Well, Maki, mostly. Panda and Gojo could not give a single damn; they were more interested in the fact that you were there.

Finally, they asked the burning question, "Are you and Toge dating?"

They exchanged looks filled with curiosity and anticipation, making you sweat. Their gazes shifted between you and Toge, practically demanding an answer from either of you, clearly not willing to take no for an answer.

There was silence, right before…

“Huh? Oh, yeah, we are.”

“WHAT?!”

“I was right!” Panda started dancing around.

With a tilt of your head, you turned to face the pale blonde, who blinked at you, all with the innocent expression he always had.

“Toge, I thought you said you were going to tell them?”

“Tuna.”

The boy gave you a sheepish expression, Toge’s small muffles speaking through the layered shirt he always wore. You inhaled deeply and continued to hold his hand, tightening your grip. “Don’t worry. I could never get mad at you, Toge. Like, come on, just look at the expressions on their faces. The poor souls.”

‘Huh…?’

Toge's gaze softened at your words as he nodded in agreement. "Salmon roe.”

His expression said it all. It was one of adoration, to be able to hold your hand and spend time with you, that brought him immeasurable joy in his quiet world. One that the others hardly ever saw in the pale-haired boy let alone a mere smile, all but hidden away under his mask, quite literally.

You couldn't help but chuckle softly at his choice of words. You rubbed at his straightened, pale hair, utterly oblivious to the incredulous stares of Maki, Panda, and Gojo. "Yes, yes, salmon roe," you replied with a wide grin of your own, feeling a warmth spread fruitfully in your chest as if the three were mere background props in your own quirky sitcom.

As for the second years? Well…

‘If this supposed to be romantic…?’ they all sweatdropped.

Heaven forbid the words of onigiri ingredients could ever be considered “romantic.”

“Are we… interrupting something personal here?” Panda neared closer to Maki, whispering in her ear, only to receive a punch right in the gullet.

“So, were we the first to learn about your relationship?” Panda sparkled as if they weren’t just interrupting a moment of yours a moment ago, or even that he was just punched. Having a puppy body has its advantages, perhaps.

“Oh,” you blinked. “No. It was Ijichi, actually, a few days ago.”

“SO YOU BOTH WERE GETTING HANDSY!”

“Not really. He walked into the classroom while me and Toge were in the middle of-”

“I CAN'T BELIEVE IT! YOU TWO REALLY WERE MAKING OUT!”

“That’s not it either…”

©hxnbi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of my works.

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lexirosewrites · 19 hours

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Adding to this if you don’t mind 🥰 also sorry my mind ran away with this

https://www.tumblr.com/lexirosewrites/747283241680175104/40-year-old-omega-steve-who-lives-a-boring-life

Maybe at the end of the rut, Eddie is smitten, but after a very awkward chat about the bite, they decided to take it slow. Still doesn’t stop Eddie from leaving flowers, gifting things, making food, just romance. Trying to court him, and Steve is enjoying it even though his conscious is trying to guilt him about the whole thing. It’s definitely a mixed mess in his head and when he gets symptoms and takes a test. He’s going to get his pup, but how will Eddie react. He thinks it’s just rut talk, but he’s totally the shopping parent, seeing the cutest onesie and impulse buys while Steve is the one that balances the checkbook. That’s one of the things that stresses him out is the lack of restraint. Steve tries to bring it up on multiple occasions about money and struggling when they have a baby one the way. Eddie somehow manages to always distracts him, whether with a romantic gesture one way or another.

Eddie hasn’t told Steve his real career (whether he’s an off season rock star, or maybe the creator of a gaming app. Something that gives him wealth so he rarely thinks on the matter of money when it comes to Steve and the baby). He just doesn’t think or really notice, even when Steve offers that they move into a new apartment together with two rooms to cut down on money spending. Eddie jumps at the idea because the idea of them sharing a bed every night excites him.

Of course it all probably comes to head when the stress is too much and Steve is put on bedrest, so Eddie is full on attentive. He does the choirs, the checkbook balancing, noting the cuts that Steve had to make when figuring his own pay and what he averaged Eddie made.

I fully believe Eddie is as oblivious to money as he is attentive to Steve. So he opens up to the older man, reassures that money is the least of their worries and that he promised to be more open. It definitely helps their relationship the last month or two they have alone.

(Link to my aforementioned ficlet this is based on)

I’m very tempted to write an actual fic about the original concept because I think it would be cute to write about older omega Steve handling the accidental mating to his younger alpha Eddie🥺

#slick Sunday #steddie #steddie omegaverse #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #omegaverse #a/b/o #my asks #mpreg #cw mpreg #tw mpreg

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ashipiko · 2 days

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DANCE WITH ME YOU LI-IA-IAR ♡

OVERBLOT ASHI??? ANYBODY??? the ANGST that this baby can store!!! SHEESH!!!!!!! <3 I only have one post dedicated to her and liar dance lyric analysis (the post is kinda outdated in gen) BUT…… I also have an overblot monologue as a treat 🫶 I wanted to better explain her angst and so!!! BABAM!!! enjoy

ASHI’S MONOLOGUE:

Sometimes I wonder why I ended up here.

A place named “Twisted Wonderland”, and at a school named “Night Raven College”.

At first, I figured that I was the odd one out— Y’know, the Ramshackle prefect and everything. The magicless girl at the magical all boys school? Nuts, ain’t it?

I’m known for a lot of things. Things that are different from the others. The fact that I stand out is part of the Ashi charm, something I’m known for.

But… Over time I found myself sorta feeling in place here.

Because as much as I try to believe it, I can’t safely say that I’m better than anyone else here.

I’m a fake. I make conversation and lots of friends, but for what? A backup in case something goes wrong? A sense of protection for my reputation? In what case are any of those friendships something I truly want? In what case are any of these strings more than just a tool instead of a thread made of my real feelings?

Behind this, I’m no different from any other student here. Even through my individuality, my cheerfulness, my endearing oddness… I’m still a horrible person. Using people to get what I want, toying with people and their feelings in order to gain power and gain a spot the top. All to become untouchable. It’s screwed. It’s not right.

My insides are ugly. The truth of me is something I want to keep tucked away deeply, because I don’t want people to see this part of me. A brash, annoying, selfish version of me, everything people hate to see. I don’t want this side of me to be seen because people will run away— people I don’t care much about, sures, but people I love, too. I don’t want to drive them away. So I keep quiet and give them a shallow show.

I give them a source of entertainment that’s controlled by the real me, every calculated movement translating into a marionette-like response. The only show I allow you to see is one that’s so carefully crafted by the chaotic clown backstage. The one that is shunned away from the light, the strings being the only hint of the puppet’s phony existence to the foolish audience.

But suddenly, I feel as if being here has started to let this side of me come crawling back into the spotlight.

It scares me.

It scares me to be vulnerable, let all of my faults lay out on the table like playing cards. To take the risk without the protection, to gamble everything I’ve built up away just like that. But you…

You.

You make me feel safe. You make me feel as if I don’t need to hide anything. I can give you the key to my heart and you would have no malicious intent. You wouldn’t cut out the parts people don’t like. You would enjoy the performance in full, every bit of it.

You make me believe that I’m nothing special, and yet something so valuable at the same time.

It’s silly. You’re silly. And yet that’s something that’s helped me.

It’s helped me realize that that truly is just how people are.

We aren’t villains. We aren’t antagonists. We aren’t monsters.

We are nothing but people, with faults and feelings that should be valued.

I am more than just a jester, a sake of entertainment.

I’m a person who is entirely worthy of love. All of me.

It reminds me that I must’ve came here for a reason.

Because this is where I belong.

#they drive me nuts. tbh #PLEASE LISTEN TO LIAR DANCE ITS SOOOOOOOOOO #!!! envy baby is also a big Ashi OB song #it’s so fun. she’s so fun #if you can’t tell her overblot works in like….. she IS the blot monster. or the (real) Ashi AKA the jester is #if she represents the true Ashi then the marionette Ashi represents what she pretends to be/puts out into the world #so even if you’re attacking the jestershi and the more antagonistic seeming of the two…… all you’re doing is feeding into the blot itself #as you’re doing what ashi’s afraid of— berating the real her #the solution is to kill the marionette!!! btw!!!!! and that’s what ace does #DW THEY ARE SO FINE AND OK. NO ISSUES HERE #ashace my beloved #ace trappola #ace trappola x oc #twst ace #twst yume #twst #twisted wonderland #twst oc #twst wonderland #disney twst #twst yuu #twst oc x canon #ashipiko draws ♪#twstshi #I DONT THINK I REALLY POST ABOUT ASHACE LORE A LOT #APRY FROM LIKE? THE FIC ITS IUST SILLIES #so I hope you guys enjoy!!!!!!

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jazziejax · 3 days

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PR & Matchmaking

Pairing- Callum Turner x OC! India Hayes

Summary- The flirtatious banter between two co-stars that are trying to make the most of their PR contract while also wondering if what they’re felling is real or not.

Warnings- none

Author’s Note- I haven’t written anything on here in so long so please be easy one me guys. I just wanted to post something because it’s been a while and I felt like Callum Turner needed more love.

Word Count- 2,131

Lights were flashing like crazy and the people were going wild as they walked onto the carpet. Tonight was the premiere of Masters of The Air, a drama miniseries on Apple TV that explores the aerial wars of WWII through enlisted men of the Mighty Eighth Air Force.

At first, the red carpet was filled with the men from the show, some posing for the perfect shot while others did interviews to talk about the show. Though all were dapper as the cameras clicked and flashed to capture their noticeable charm. One of the stars, Callum Turner, was in the middle of answering a question after being asked what was his biggest takeaway from a show like this.

“I mean, it’s taught me a lot. More than I knew it would, which is always great. Working with such amazing people has to be the greatest takeaway—.” The sound of his words were barely audible under the screams of the crowd. His face morphed into a shell of shock for only the briefest moment before he chuckled and turned his head to see what that commotion was about. His first assumption was that it was Austin and Barry offering tons of fanservice with their flirtatious banter.

But he couldn’t have been more wrong.

He could hardly see through the flashing lights but he could discern one name through what the photographers were saying.

“India!”

“India, this way!”

Even though he wasn’t facing the camera fully, it still caught the smile that graced his lips at the sound of the woman's name. From another angle, you could see him looking down the carpet at the girl in black, staring at her figure as she posed.

Realizing he’s still on camera and was in the middle of talking, Callum chuckled as she turned back to his interviewer. “Speaking of amazing—.” He laughed along with the guy, gesturing to the woman down the carpet.

“Did you guys and the Angels of War cast get to do any work together? Can we expect to see a crossover?” The man asked before holding his mic out to Callum. Said man pursed his lips, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I can’t say, you have to watch the show and see.” He joked.

Moments later, India was being asked her own set of questions.

“We’ve all seen Angels of War, we all loved it. It was great. But I must know what you think of Masters of the Air.” The woman asked her.

India smiled, prepared for her words to soon come bite her in the ass. “I loved it, it was so amazing and so detailed that you couldn’t help but fall in love it.” India smiled, her southern accent strong on her tongue. “I felt so connected to the characters because of such great acting.” She offered a soft smile. “But it was hard payin’ attention in some scenes because everyone was so sexy.” She laughed along with interviewer.

“Right! I’m glad you said it before I did.” The woman with the mic spoke.

“Yeah, but I’m gonna watch anything with Callum Turner in it.” India winked with a small smirk on her lips. This caused the interviewer to make a sound of excitement, knowing she just got her clip of the week. India just smiled and laughed along, knowing she was working her PR arm a little too much. But she liked riling people up, it’s why she was so loved.

“I have to agree with you, I am the same way with Henry Cavil.” The woman chuckled. Her eyes moved a tad to catch a glimpse of a tall figure dressed in black behind India’s shoulder. “And speaking of Callum Turner.” She beamed.

India turned her torso to see said man not too far from them walking somewhere along the outskirts of the red carpet, a few people straggling behind him. Seeing movement out of the corner of his eye, Callum glanced to his left to see India and the interviewer staring at him, the camera slightly angled his way. A large smile made its way onto his face as he walked closer.

“Callum!” India said excitedly, opening her arms in invitation. His eyes disappeared behind the folds on his cheeks as he moved to embrace the woman once he made it to her. She wrapped her arms his neck while his went to her waist. Her height and hills made it to where her head fit almost perfectly within the nook of his neck. As she moved back slightly to grab a hold of his jaw and place a firm kiss on his cheek, his hands traveled from her waist to her hips. His large hands almost sitting on top of her bottom. Since they weren’t as close to the mic as they were before, the camera couldn’t pick up on any of what was being said.

“Did you play it up before I got here?” India asked through a smile as she drug her hand from his face to his chest.

“Why yes I did, darling.” He beamed down at the girl. “And I can see you are trying to upstage me.” He said before starting to rub his hands up and down the curve of her back. The tips of his middle fingers grazing one another as they traversed the span of her waist. India then made a dramatic sad face, her large eyes never leaving his. “Oh, never that.” She cooed. “I am just trying to get us both paid.” She cheesed before turning around to finish her interview. Callum followed after her, keeping his hand around her waist.

“Sorry about that. Speak of the devil and he shall appear and all that.” India said sarcastically, nodding her head over to the man behind her. The interviewer laughed, looking between the two. “It’s so good to now have you here with us, Callum, how are you?” She asked.

“I’m doing far better now that I’ve seen her.” The man smirked, glancing down at the woman on his arm as his hand moved from her hip to lying flat on her stomach. . India dramatically rolled her eyes at him, moving to place her hand on top of his. “He’s so cheesy.” She said.

“Only for the right price.” His voice said above her head. India burst into a fit of chuckles, angling her head to look up at the man without turning around. They shared a knowing look before going back to looking at the interviewer, who was red in the face from just watching their interactions.

“Well aren’t you two quite the pair!” She exclaimed. “Are we going to be seeing your characters together any time soon? I think it’s time for Loretta to settle down.” She asked before holding out the mic.

“Well, first off, Loretta needs no man!” India said, sassily waving her finger, causing the others to chuckle. “She probably would have liked one in a time such as then but needed one? No thank you.” She joked, although her words had a seemingly undertone due to the topic of her statement. “And secondly, you’ll just have to wait and see. I wouldn’t get my hopes up though.” She shrugged.

“Well, those are all the question I had for you, thank you two so much for being here!” She said excitedly.

“No, thank you for having us.” India said before giving the woman a small hug, Callum’s hand moving to her waist as she moved. She then finished her hug and walked away with Callum on her hip.

“Do you think we’re laying it on thick?” India asked, looking up at him. Callum looked down at her, the lights reflecting of her big eyes. She had a black silk scarf on her head on the carpet, but it was no gone, along with her shades, to show her short cut. He brought his hand up to the back of her neck, playing with the small hairs there. “No, I don’t think so.” He said, his suave demeanor dropping in a second of comfortability with her. “And if so, isn’t that kind of the point?” India didn’t answer his rhetorical question, caught up in the feeling of his hands playing in her short hair.

“We have the same haircut.” She said after a moment of silence, the two just staring at each other. Callum’s blue eyes twinkled in the light as he smiled at her. “Yeah, we do.”

“Although I think mines a little better, maybe I can give you my barbers number?” He finished before walking away from her. India’s mouth dropped but wasn’t for long as she caught up to his long legs and hit him in the arms. “I cannot believe you said that. You know I look way better than you with his haircut.” She sassed, rolling her eyes at the man before walking faster than him. Callum smiled his eyes following her figure as she walked back to the red carpet, where her life long friend, Janelle, was gesturing her over on the carpet with the rest of the Angels of War cast.

India scurried over, her and Janelle standing in the middle with the other girls on the side, all posing for the camera. Callum stood off on the side, looking at them while the lights flashed behind him. His eyes were trained on India as she and Janelle exchanged words before bubbling into laughter.

After a while longer, India looked over and made eye contact with him. They both immediately smiled at each other, eyes showing nothing but pure affection. She then detached one of her arms from Janelle and beckoned him over. Callum slightly shook his head. Seeing his hesitation, her face became serious as she beckoned him over again, although her movements were a little harsher this time. He was about to reject the offer again before his shoulder jerked forward slightly. His glanced back to his Austin gesture his head over to the carpet before walking off and over to his girlfriend Janelle, although no one else knew that piece of information.

He followed after him, his eyes locked on India playfully stern ones, the rest Masters of the Air cast following behind him and Austin. Once he made it to her, her eyes softened as he slipped behind her. While they waited for everyone to settle into their places, she smiled up at him before leaning back a little, her back met his torso. Her head laid on his chest as she looked up at him with a big fake smile. Callum looked down at her, staring into the eyes he thought looked beautiful from any angle. Trapped within her gaze, he leaned down a little, the tip of his large nose brushing against her forehead as he sniffed her. India crunched her eyebrows at him before raising her head to look back at the cameras. She still had her back against him, although you couldn’t tell unless you got a side angle.

“Enough of your flirting.” Austin piped up behind his smile as he glanced over at the pair dressed in all black.

“What, are we outshining the real couple?” Callum asked, smirking over at his friend.

“Outshine?” Austin asked. “Oh, you don’t even wanna know the things I’d do if we were public.” He finished, his grip tightening on Janelle’s waist as he continued to pose for the pictures. Said woman’s face flushed as she laughed and glanced up at him. They looked at each other for the briefest of seconds before going back to their original poses.

“This whole thing is so backwards.” India scoffed with a smirk on her face as the camera flicked to catch the moment between Austin and Janelle. Callum looked down at her and placed his hand on her hip, squeezing her fat as he sensed she was getting irritated. “Oh, but you love it.” He said joked, his deep voice vibrating through the both of them. Although she didn’t look up at him, India smiled at his words. “Yeah…you got me there.” She said, but couldn’t decide whether she was serious or not.

Social media went into a complete frenzy over those two. Clips of their cute moments floating all around the internet, some “fake”, you could say and others more authentic. Stills of Callum staring at India so lovingly were all over her feed, almost sending their girl into a spiral from seeing her own face that much. Compilations of every time they interacted during the premiere had millions of views as everyone speculated what they were. People were talking about the pair for weeks, which is just what their management wanted.

Indiahayes ✓⃝

likes by austinbutler, keoghan92, and 567,842 others

indiahayes happy masters of the air day!! go watch the show full of sexy men that kiss! ;)

view 7,627 comments

janellethat no one kissed guys :(

⤷ Indiahayes hush, don’t spoil the show!

callumsnumber1gurl let’s talk about these premiere photos hun!

callumturnerburner you and Callum look soo good together!!

⤷ austinbutlerbutt you are not sneaky at all

austinbutler Angels of War sister! 🤍

⤷ Indiahayes Masters of the Air brother!🖤

anthonyboyle why are you and Nina on the furniture?

⤷ ninasimone because we’re American 🇺🇸 🦅

randosuper3 it’s times like this where I wish Callum had an instagram 😔

lovelyrando you and Callum looked amazing together and I hope what you guys have lasts long

auatinslove are we just not going to talk about Janelle and Austin? What’s going on there???

⤷ indiassuperfan7 adults being adults

#callum turner x reader #callum turner fanfiction #callum turner #callum turner x black reader #austin butler x reader #austin butler x you #austin butler x black reader #social media au #x black reader #x black fem reader #jazziejaxwriting

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hannahssimblr · 9 hours

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“I have to say, this is an impressive body of work.”

I shift in my seat, “By impressive do you mean that it’s good, or that there’s a lot of it?”

This gets a laugh. “Both,” says the man, Paul, flicking through a sketchbook with tattooed hands, fingers stained from nicotine. I notice things like this now. Hands. I notice their lines and their bones, all their interesting details, and perhaps Paul himself could gauge this now as he pours over my figure studies where there are pages upon pages of hands, old and young, my friends, my sisters at the piano, an old woman clutching at a handrail on the train, and my own, a hundred times in different ways, blisters, plasters, hangnails and bruises from the rugby pitch.

The woman, Ida, shuffles through a stack of watercolour paintings I did last summer, mostly seascapes, the beach and the rushes, the whitewashed houses and rusted iron of the Wexford coast. Just looking at them I can recall the grit of sand under my bare feet as I warmed them on the deck of our holiday home behind my portable easel. In three months I’ll return again for one last summer, and after that I expect I’ll miss it there.

“And you said you didn’t do a portfolio preparation year?” She says, peering over the rim of her glasses.

“No, I’m still at school.”

“Highly unusual for a sixth year,” her eyebrows climb up her forehead, “You've clearly dedicated a lot of time to this.”

I shrug, “Yeah, I like making art, I don’t know.”

It’s difficult to tell what this woman is thinking. Everything about her is harsh, dramatic, from the sharp fringe that sits straight and neat above her brows to the slash of her mouth, thin lips, pointy chin, hard eyes, but I have to assume for the sake of my own self esteem that she doesn’t positively loathe my portfolio. She spends some time looking through my work, slowly, methodically, sometimes leaning closer to frown at something, maybe some proportion that’s off, bad composition, a clumsy attempt at ambient occlusion that doesn’t hit the mark…

“It’s beautiful,” she says simply, and I exhale.

“Oh look, a familiar face,” Paul holds a portrait to Ida, “That’s the girl that we were interviewing a few people before this, what was her name again?”

“Michelle,” I say, “My girlfriend.”

Paul nods, “Michelle, right! Good likeness,” and places the notebook back onto the table. Leaning back in his chair, he cracks his knuckles, “Look, Jude, there’s no two ways about it here, your work is outstanding. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a portfolio that hits every mark, every requirement and goes beyond, I mean,” he lets out a puff of air and gestures to the table, “this is nuts. And for a sixth year? Come on. This stuff would blow some of our third and fourth year college students out of the water.”

I feel like I could melt off the chair with relief, but try to suppress my utter delight so that they don’t think I’m too hungry for validation.

“Cool.”

“It’s the sensitivity,” Ida adds, “Your observation skills, your sense of weight, movement, knowledge of anatomy. It’s rare to see this kind of work from a secondary school student. Your efforts are just… so impressive.”

“And look, we know it depends on your Leaving Cert points, and yeah, that’ll be a contributing factor when it comes to acceptance, but, like,” Paul looks over the table again, tossing his hands up conclusively, “as far as I’m concerned, we’ll see you in September.”

Ida’s mouth curls into a smile, “We hope. If you choose us.”

If I choose them? Am I dreaming? How have I become the kind of person who is coveted by an art school? Surely not. Surely soon I’ll wake up and discover that this whole interview has been a product of my dreams. Too much time spent stressing out over art, the requirements, the brief... Almost certainly I’ve fallen asleep somewhere and none of this is real.

“That’s really kind of you to say. I’m glad you liked my stuff.”

“Blown away,” says Paul, and he leaps to his feet to shake my hand like I’ve just won a prize, “all we need is a pass in the Leaving Cert, you can surely manage it.”

“Yeah, I’ll make sure I do.”

They’re smiling at me as I gather up my work, and still smiling as I give them one last sheepish wave from the door, and I realise I am still smiling too as I face the hallway of waiting students, staring at me with portfolios rested against their knees. I probably shouldn’t look too overjoyed, it might knock their confidence, so I try to look very bored instead as I pass by, though I may explode from the inside out.

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky boy 2010 #he's back baby #looking cuter than ever #I love hipster era Jude so much??#and c'mon #y'all know what's coming this summer #anyone recognise Ida?

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honeybleed · 2 days

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ARCHIVED.

I’ve had a lot of thought about this but I figured it’s time. I joined Tumblr not as somebody new because I’ve been on this app before. But as a writing blog inspired by amazing black authors who wrote for anime that I loved. I’ve given those girls their flowers and there was a real sense of community.

But I’d say the first two months of 2024 on Tumblr was the roughest. I can take accountability, I know I have not handled things the greatest. I have a pattern of fall outs and I have an abrasive personality. I have opinions that differ and I’m stubborn. That being said, the way I was treated by a lot of authors on here in the name of “kinks” and “dark content” when I merely said minors shouldn’t be involved with adult fantasies on here is and was unacceptable.

A lot of the people I disagreed with regarding that issue following Ezra and Tee either blocked me completely and probably sent around my user to their friends so I’m blocked by a LOT of authors on here because they think I’m a purist who hates dark content and it’s not a nice feeling. There’s really no point of me even being here if I’m treated like some social pariah and people want nothing to do with me. Actively attempting to alienate and push me out because I care about children welfare (yes, even fictional ones)

Lack of engagements which I know everybody experiences on here especially now fuels this too. I’m bitter, I know I write well but I notice I’m always the one trying to encourage other authors.

I don’t feel happy on here. Writing has always been my hobby but the fact I can’t even put anons on because I get a slew of slurs is not okay. What I answered differed greatly from what was truly in my inbox. I had a lot, and the humiliation of people tormenting my mutuals about me was just…yeah. Nobody can say my writing is bad or my blog is ugly. Nobody debates or argues with me. It’s straight to dehumanisation by calling me slurs. Like I’ve said before, as a child I experienced extreme racism in England so I guess slurs shouldn’t bother me.

But I guess what gets me is that everybody on here pretends to be all “uwu baby soft me and my blorbo” with the kaomojis and pastel pink but I know it’s mostly likely them. There was even a subpost regarding a post from Monica talking about the racial abuse we suffered and a majority of popular authors were laughing in the comments.

This is not about dark content. This is not about aging up because frankly i don’t care. i filtered out certain characters names n just went about my day, I spoke my peace about how I choose not to do that so do not use me as some soap box about that cos I’m not fighting battles cos people can’t do that themselves.

It’s not all negative. I love every friend I’ve made! I’m grateful for all the people who liked my work and made works I love. I’m happy I met so many people, I’ve laughed with them. In all the fall outs I’ve been in, I still have a certain degree of love for people I no longer talk to. If you want my disc just dm, I’ll still be around to read!

Deuces! I had fun!

pinned

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blobbycentral · 3 days

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Puppets of the Gods

(Aka that one AU where the Cookies of Darkness get possessed by the beasts)

Get ready, this’ll be a long one

The AU starts with Dark Enchantress and main group of the Cookies of Darkness (Pomegranate, Poison Mushroom, Licorice, Red Velvet, and Affogato) heading to the great tree for an audience with the beasts. In this audience, the beasts demand cookie bodies like they do in game. Dark Enchantress though, instead of making new cookie bodies from scratch, offers up her subordinates as vessels and the plot begins.

(Yes that is a paper bag on his head and no I will not answer why the paper bag is grey)

SILENT SALT COOKIE

Silent Salt and Burning Spice fought over who would get the guy with the massive sword and arm. Since Burning Spice was too busy arguing with Silent Salt, they ended up getting Red Velvet instead. He’s not a terrible body to host. Strong. Nice sword. Quiet. Though he could get over the cake monster things. Silent Salt is allowed to take out whatever they want.

RED VELVET COOKIE

As a loyal member of the Cookies of Darkness, he accepted the possession, practically welcomed it. Well… he did. I mean sure Silent Salt isn’t the worse to be possessed by. He’s seen Affogato’s and Licorice’s state. It’s just… so quiet. Too quiet. He’s locked in this mind space watching Silent Salt wreck his life’s work and hurt anything that comes in their way. Maybe if Dark Enchantress knew what was going on she would help… if only he could find a way out.

BURNING SPICE COOKIE

If Silent Salt wasn’t such a big fat paper bag, Burning Spice would’ve gotten Red Velvet. But noooo he had to get the other brat with a big scythe. Licorice Cookie or whatever his name is, he’s frail, bratty and won’t shut up or stop escaping. It sucksssssssss. At least he hates Mystic Flour’s vessel as much as Burning Spice hates Mystic Flour!

LICORICE COOKIE

Alright, maybe this makes Licorice Cookie not the most loyal Cookie of Darkness but he HATES BURNING SPICE! If he had his diary (which Burning Spice looked through btw) he would be scribbling so much the paper would be soaked in pen. Everyday he and him argue and argue about what to do. It’s not Licorice’s fault that this man doesn’t know a spell book from a piece of toilet paper! Ugh… he just needs to find a way out.

MYSTIC FLOUR COOKIE

Pomegranate Cookie is loyal and quiet like a good pet. Her hair is annoying to deal with. They spent hours just trying to figure out how to take it out of those buns. Then there's her whole obsession on Dark Enchantress Cookie. Sinful and annoying. Does she not understand caring is a waste of energy? Alas

POMEGRANATE COOKIE

She knew of her master's grand plan since Dark Enchantress thought of it. She gave up herself as soon as Dark Enchantress gave out the order. She did everything Mystic Flour said just as Dark Enchantress had ordered her to do. She sat by and let Mystic Flour destroy her room, clothes, mirror— she’ll sit silently and let all happen. She can’t let her master down even if it destroys everything.

SHADOW MILK COOKIE

You know, he’d prefer Pure Vanilla. He’s more fun to toy around with! This dumb one is such a boreeee. Traumatize him once and he’s all like “I’m emo and sad and stay quiet in the mind space” it ain’t t all bad. Having a body is just soooooo much fun! He gets to play with cookies for real now! The world will remember how fun he was ;D

AFFOGATO COOKIE

When Dark Enchantress Cookie offered up the Cookies of Darkness, Affogato Cookie ran. He was barely a member anyways! He shouldn’t have to be puppeted like a worthless… well.. puppet. It doesn’t matter anymore. Shadow Milk knows everything and just how to screw with his head. He hates it. Makes him want to go back to the hell of the Dark Cacao kingdom.

ETERNAL SUGAR COOKIE

She wanted the pretty girl to be her vessel! Not some kid! Sure she was a little slow on pickings but still! They just sleep around and asks for bedtime stories and shroomies. What the actual oven is a shroomie anyways??

POISON MUSHROOM COOKIE

The pink lady is pretty. She reads them stories and snuggles them in her wings. It’d only be better if she had shroomies

And that’s all! If you have any questions feel free to ask! Thanks for reading!

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theworldoffostering · 2 days

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You guys, I feel like I’m drowning. These past three weeks have felt unmanageable to me. Like, I don’t know how to keep going.

I’m walking alongside (trying the best I know how) the older girls as one navigates this break up and the other tries to transition to college. We got DD a car, but it still needs a few repairs. She was here all afternoon today working on it with DH.

I am waiting for the updated version of Ms. 6’s IEP to hit my inbox to send it off to the school. I am also working on her housing contract. Then I think I can step back for a few weeks. Still trying to figure out what’s going on with graduation. Her mom is back to letting her go to it and maybe allow her to stay for dinner, but it’s Memorial Day weekend and I don’t want to put a deposit down for a dinner somewhere only to have her not be allowed to attend at the last minute. I also don’t want to disappoint her. I’m unsure of how to proceed, so I’m just sort of frozen.

DS takes his civics test next week. You have to pass in order to graduate high school. He has prepared and seems like he will do well. He’s also pole vaulting and doing well at that for being a novice and having very little practice time due to the crummy weather we’ve been having.

Work is a lot right now. It’s to be expected due to the time of year. I can almost see the light at the end of the tunnel, but it’s a lot to slog through.

DH was verbally offered a job this week as a special education teacher. He is supposed to return to school to get his teaching certification in about a week, and is waiting for a letter of intent via email from the potential employer. It’s a lot. We are trying to manage the financial aid piece and we are up against a super tight deadline right now. His interview for the job was virtual, so he’s heading to the school next week to actually tour it and meet his potential coworkers. In the spirit of living in a small town, one of the women he used to live who was in live with him (for real)—the housing situation was work related—works at the school. She has legit not spoken to myself or DH since he and I got engaged so that seems like it will be super awkward (although she is also married now and has kids).

DH is finally seeing a decent therapist and between the therapist and neuropsych eval he had done during fall, it is apparent he is super depressed. Depressed is apparently his baseline and super depressed happens quite a bit. It is helpful to have it identified, but wow, it is a lot to live with. I am really struggling as his wife because he cannot do much and is not really emotionally available 90% of the time. He’s so inwardly focused, that he cannot focus on me, the kids, relationships, stuff that needs to be done, etc. I’m drowning and he cannot take on any of the workload. It sucks.

My endocrin had me take b12 supplements the last three months and my level actually decreased. I’m starting up with b12 injections next week. My TSH is also super, super low which means I’m hyperhyroid and should be losing weight, but I’m gaining which also sucks.

My endocrin is out of network for me which means my injections will be out of network. I have ZERO out of network benefits. The whole healthcare system is atrocious. I refuse to go back to the three endocrins I saw before I connected with my current one. They were all terrible, but in network. I need a super expensive full body scan but I for sure cannot pay for that out of pocket, so I’m waiting to see if my GP will prescribe it when I see him in June.

My crown also broke this week and when the dentist looked at it, I had worn a hole clear through the middle. He said it was due to grinding/stress. I wear a mouth guard religiously at night, so it’s happening during the day. :-/ Cue more medical bills. They glued my current one back on and can’t get me in to work on repair until June. I almost cried when trying to schedule with them because I just cannot even do all of this any more. (It also hurt wicked bad last time they fixed it so I’m somewhat terrified to return.)

That’s my list of complaints/brain dump. There’s more, but I need to wrap up some grading and get dinner going. I miss a life that was easier and less complicated.

#adulting #complaining

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burnednotburied · 1 day

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Chapter Four

AO3 Link | Chapter 3 Link

Pairing: Abby Anderson x fem!reader

Fic Synopsis: Abby goes looking for Owen and ends up on the wrong end of your knife.

Tags/CWs: angst; slowburn; enemies to friends to lovers; talks of purity culture/ideals and “sin”; internalized homophobia and some comp-het feelings (they’re both so gay but so dumb about it); animosity between WLF and Seraphites; blood/gore; descriptions of being hanged; religious/cult-like ideas

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

You watched from the wide window in the second room as Abby walked away and headed towards the coast, your fingers lifting the blinds just enough for you to peek out.

Yara was already drifting off to sleep on the couch behind you. Even Lev was starting to succumb to his exhaustion, his head leaned on the couch’s arm, his eyes blinking slowly.

Quietly, you instructed them both to get some rest, promising to keep watch. Yara mumbled a Yes, Prophet and pulled her legs up just enough for her brother to have room at the other end. He moved from where he knelt on the floor by her head to curl up by her feet, finally allowing himself to close his eyes.

You couldn’t imagine that they had been able to get much rest in their last few days on the run. But you were here now. You would keep them safe.

You turned your eyes back to the window, to the Wolf, expecting to find her out of your line of sight by now. Instead, you found her standing still, just far enough away for you to be unable to read her expression.

She stood there in the rain for several moments, swaying on her feet, looking back and forth between the coast and the building like she was trying to make a decision.

Stupidly, you wished again that she would stay.

As if she had heard your thoughts, Abby turned and started walking back in your direction, her mind made up.

You smiled and ran to meet her, carefully shutting the door that separated the two rooms as you went, leaving Yara and Lev to sleep undisturbed.

When Abby was once again outside the door, you swung it open, watching her blink at you incredulously with her fist raised, ready to knock.

“Wolf,” you said, trying to hide your pleased smile.

“Prophet.” She let her hand fall.

You stepped aside to let her in.

She brushed past you.

Again, you closed and locked the door, leaning back against it with your hands behind you.

This first room didn’t have furniture. At least not anything to sit on. Abby dropped her bag and sat on the floor across from you, leaning back against the wall with her forearms resting on her drawn-up knees.

You wanted to question her decision to come back, hoping she might give you some insight into why there seemed to be this pull between you two.

You had always longed for connection, feeling so thoroughly set apart from your people that you might as well have been completely alone. They revered you—worshipped you—but they didn’t love you. Not in a way that you truly felt.

You were nothing more than a symbol. An object to worship. No different than an intricately painted mural on a wall. A counterfeit version of the Prophet they once had.

So you didn’t have people who loved you. Who saw you.

That was what you wanted more than anything.

And here was this Wolf, who had fought alongside you and spoken to you like you were a real person. She smiled at you and called you a “good girl”, making you feel what felt like the most tempting sin. And she called you Prophet like it was a joke between the two of you.

You hadn’t wanted her to leave, and here she was. Not leaving.

Maybe this wasn’t one-sided. Maybe it wasn’t all in your head. The fact that she came back was proof that she felt it too.

You studied her face, as if that would reveal something to you.

It didn’t.

You broke the silence. “I’m not actually a prophet, you know.”

This clearly wasn’t what she expected you to say. She probably thought you would ask her why she came back. But you figured her honest answer would be similar to yours: She just felt like she had to, and she didn’t know why.

Abby seemed grateful to bypass the interrogation, so she scoffed, feigning shock. “You mean to tell me you’re not a wise, all-knowing seer of the future, cosmically and singularly chosen to lead the righteous few?”

Your smile returned as you shook your head.

“So how’d you end up with the title?” she asked, genuinely curious.

You had spent a lot of time thinking about this over the years. You decided to give her the simplest answer.

“Honestly, I think I was just the first child who turned twelve after the Elders decided that they wanted a new prophet.”

“Why would that matter?” she asked. When she saw your confused look, she added, “That you were twelve?”

“That’s when we get the…” You gestured to your face, drawing lines on either side of your mouth to indicate the scarring.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

She let her legs straighten in front of her, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning her head back against the wall. Her eyes stayed on you, watching you carefully. “Well, at least you got to bypass that fun little rite of passage.”

“I have marks like any other Seraphite,” you said. “I just carry them differently.”

Abby looked curious, like she wanted to ask you to go on. Instead, you pushed off from where you leaned against the door and began unfastening the long cloak that you still wore, glancing up briefly to see the Wolf’s eyes widen and her cheeks flush ever so slightly as she leaned forward to watch you.

It did feel scandalous. Removing the cloak in front of her. Even though you were clothed underneath.

Slowly stripping a layer away with her eyes on you, transfixed. Enamored. Like you were something beautiful—maybe even desirable.

It felt good in a way that you had been taught was bad.

You hoped that, as time and distance came between you and Haven, the Elders’ voices would fade away in your mind. Their rules and demands had always been a suffocating weight on you. But maybe now it was your choice. You got to decide what was true and how to live.

You promised yourself you’d revisit that line of thinking later.

Beneath the cloak, you wore what you always did. A long, simple white dress. The fabric was soft and light. Thin, although not sheer. The sleeves were short, leaving your arms mostly bare, and the whole thing ended just above your ankles. It flowed enough for you to move without any difficulty, but it was properly fitted to your exact measurements at the top.

At Sanctuary, your servants had always been responsible for your dresses, making new ones as your body changed, growing taller and filling out. You hadn’t initially been comfortable in dresses, never having worn them as a child, but after eight years of it being the only option offered to you, you’d grown accustomed to it. Comfortable, even.

Now, you felt naked in it.

The cloak had protected the dress from most of the mud, blood, guts of the day, but it hadn’t totally shielded it against the rain.

The fabric was damp against your skin, clinging more than it usually would.

You kept going, remembering why you had removed your cloak in the first place.

Holding the cloak by the collar in your right hand, you lifted your left arm to show the Wolf the scars that covered the back of your forearm.

Her eyes were focused elsewhere, slowly wandering down your body. Skirting along every line and following every curve, she took her time taking you in. You couldn’t describe the look on her face if you tried.

You shivered, and that movement finally brought her attention back up to your eyes. And then lower, to the arm you had been trying to show her.

Abby seemed to come back to herself, remembering what you had been talking about and why you took off your top layer.

She stared at the marks, quiet. You transferred your cloak to your left hand, lifting the right arm to show the matching scars there.

Neither of you said anything for several moments.

“I’m sure that wasn’t it,” she said, meeting your eyes again. You let your arm fall.

“Hmm?”

“I mean, I’m sure your Elders chose you for a reason. A bigger reason than just when your birthday happened to land.”

You thought for a moment about your other theories. The fact that your father had been a loyal soldier who died protecting the first Prophet. The fact that you were an only child, and with your father dead, you had no family other than your mother, who had always been the most devout follower. The fact that, when you were a child, your teachers said you were the perfect student. Quiet and obedient. They said you would make a wonderful wife someday. Something that left you feeling strangely uncomfortable, but your mother had taken great pride in. She used to talk about her hope that you would be chosen to marry one of the Elders themselves.

Maybe the same things that would’ve made you a good wife also made you a good Prophet. At least as far as what the Elders wanted from a Prophet. They never really wanted you to lead. Just for you to become the face of their initiatives. A mouthpiece. Maybe even a scapegoat.

You decided not to tell Abby any of this, already feeling that she knew so much about you while you knew absolutely nothing about her.

You almost pointed this out when she spoke again.

“You can sit, you know. You should sit. I’m sure you’re tired.”

You weren’t supposed to sit on the ground. Or kneel. For anyone or any reason. Although, you’d already broken that rule a few times tonight. You’d knelt to cut Abby loose from the ropes earlier, and again when she had been setting Yara’s arm.

It was a stupid rule anyway, you decided. And what was it you were thinking about earlier? About making your own decisions about what is good and true from now on?

The floor was dirty though. And your dress was white.

You stepped away from the door, closer to Abby, and spread your cloak out on the floor, sitting on top of it.

Abby scoffed. “Princess.”

You tilted your head, confused, not offended.

“You don’t know what a princess is?” she asked in slight disbelief.

“It’s a word that was used to describe the daughter of an Old World monarch. Or I suppose the wife of a prince, which would’ve been the son of a monarch,” you said matter-of-factly. “I just don’t understand what that has to do with me.”

“I—” Abby started and then stopped. “Never mind.”

You narrowed your eyes, unsatisfied with her lack of an explanation, and decided to ask the much harder question after all.

“Why did you come back?”

“Huh?” she asked, suddenly nervous.

“Why’d you turn around?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“No, I mean—” She sighed, avoiding eye contact. “You guys will die without me—without my help.”

You didn’t like that answer.

“You think we can’t take care of ourselves? That we need a Wolf to protect us?”

“Honestly? Yeah.”

“Wha—”

She cut you off. “You’ve never left that island, I’m assuming, until today. You’re a capable fighter, but you don’t know anything about this world—”

“I—”

“You can argue with me if you want, but you know I’m right. And the girl is badly injured. Setting the bone won’t be enough. She needs much more medical attention if she’s going to make it. And the kid is… a kid.” Her eyes meet yours again, determined. Insistent. “So yeah, I think you could use my help. And you would be smart to accept it.”

Abby was right. You knew she was.

You wanted to ask why she cared though. But you didn’t bother, knowing she wouldn’t have much of an answer. Instead, you relented, leaning back on your hands behind you, arms straightened.

“So what’s the plan?” you asked.

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

Abby breathed out, relieved that you weren’t fighting her.

“Right now, to stay here and rest.”

You nodded your head towards the door between the two rooms. “Yara and Lev are already sleeping.”

“Good. You should join them.”

You smiled a little, making Abby’s heart beat faster. “So I should just go to sleep and trust the Wolf who came into my life under mysterious circumstances?”

She let out a short laugh, dumbfounded. “I came into your life under mysterious circumstances?! You attacked me, knocked me out cold, and hung me up by my neck.”

When you laughed softly and leaned closer, her heart raced.

“Technically, I didn’t do any of those things,” you pointed out.

“No. You just tried to kill me afterwards.”

“I apologized for that.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I asked you if you were okay.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“You’re right,” you said, gazing into her eyes. “I’m sorry.” She could tell that you were being sincere.

She cleared her throat, looking away. “Go to sleep.”

“No, I don’t think I will,” you said, smiling again, arguing just for the sake of it. “Maybe you should get some sleep and I’ll stay up.”

Abby let out an exasperated breath.

She couldn’t help but look at you, sitting on the floor with her in an old trailer like you weren’t the most ethereal thing she’d ever seen. In that dress that looked incredible on you.

It made her wonder what you would look like without it.

She wanted to reach out and touch you. To let her hands lazily travel the same path that her eyes had taken when you first took off that cloak. She wanted to hear the sounds you would make as her fingers grazed your bare skin.

She wanted you.

Her own thoughts surprised her.

Abby hadn’t spent much time thinking about what—or who—she was into in the past. Being with Owen had made sense. He was nice and funny. He made her laugh. He liked her. And her dad loved him. They were young.

But when he kissed her, she’d get this unsettling, jittery, nervous feeling. One that she could never tell if she liked or not. But she always heard people talking about having butterflies in their stomach, so Abby thought maybe that was normal. Still, she was always the first to pull away, always retreating from his touch when things got too… overwhelming.

When her dad died, she didn’t let anyone touch her for the longest time. Owen stuck around, though. He kept trying. They joined the Washington Liberation Front, and Abby felt like that gave her a purpose. She had training to stick to and orders to follow while she continued to listen for word about Joel Miller, any hint about where he could be.

She kept pushing Owen away until, eventually, he let go. Abby could remember the moment she realized it was over, although neither of them came out and said it. It affected her more than she thought it would. She was devastated. Almost like she was losing another part of her dad. Like she was watching every piece of her life crumble and fade away until she was left with something completely unrecognizable.

Then Owen and Mel got together, and things got even weirder. Mel, who had once been one of Abby’s closest friends, started treating her like an enemy. Always looking at her with distrust, pulling Owen away when he tried to talk to her.

It got worse after Jackson. Abby didn’t know if that was because of what happened there or because Mel was pregnant. Probably both.

Abby kept her head down. Threw herself back into the flow of things in Seattle. She focused on making her body strong, following orders, and killing Scars whenever she got the chance.

And sure, sometimes someone caught her eye. Maybe a character in a movie she’d watched with Manny, or someone she’d crossed paths with in the WLF compound. Now that she thought about it, those people were almost always women.

She found those thoughts easy to ignore, so nothing ever came of them. Abby didn’t think she was well-suited for a romantic partnership, after what she did to Owen. She was sure didn’t deserve it. So she always brushed those feelings off and kept moving forward. She had work to do. A city to fight for.

She had known you for just one night and everything was changing. She could feel it happening. Her life was never going to be the same.

She wanted to be good enough for it. She wanted to deserve this change.

So she was going to protect you and your friends. Because it was the right thing to do, and because she really wanted to.

And if that meant she got to keep you close, she wouldn’t complain.

Abby couldn’t fucking believe that she was into a Scar.

But she couldn’t stop looking at you. Your eyes. Your lips. Your body. It was like every piece of you had been hand-crafted for the purpose of driving her crazy. She couldn’t walk away if she tried.

Hell, she did try and she didn’t even make it down the street.

All of this, and you hadn’t even touched her yet. Maybe you never would.

And she didn’t even know your real name.

But it was becoming more and more clear to her that you were a really good person.

Abby wasn’t sure if she was a good person, but she wanted to be. If she hadn’t been before, she could start now.

The door between the rooms creaked open, and Lev’s head poked out. When he saw her sitting there with you, he froze, his eyes narrowing disapprovingly.

“What’s she doing here?” he asked, his eyes remaining on her while he spoke to you.

“She’s going to help us,” you said.

“We don’t need—”

“Yes. We do,” you said firmly.

He let it go, turning to face you. He looked worried, saying nothing.

“Is it Yara? How’s she doing?” you asked, already moving to stand.

Lev just looked down and shook his head. He stepped aside, opening the door further as you rushed into the room to check on her with Abby following close behind.

Yara was on the couch, curled into the fetal position. She was shaking, breathing heavily and unevenly.

Abby watched as you rushed over to the girl, putting your hand to her forehead to check for a fever. The look on your face alone told her it wasn’t good.

Your eyes found her, fearful and unsure of what to do.

She moved in closer, crouching down to be on Yara’s level. “I’m going to move your arm,” she said to the girl. Yara whimpered as Abby carefully adjusted her. “Lean into me.”

Abby picked her up.

“Where are you taking her?” Lev asked, stepping forward.

“C’mon.” She tried to walk past him, heading for the door. He stepped in front of her.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m giving her a chance,” Abby insisted, giving him a look that seemed to convince him to move aside and go along with it.

Lev grabbed his bow and quiver. You quickly put on your cloak, grabbed your own weapon, and threw Abby’s backpack over your shoulders.

You followed her back out into the rain.

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

Note: I had a really good time writing this chapter! I loved that it was mostly just Abby and reader talking and getting to know each other :)

P.S. If you're someone who's been leaving comments on AO3, please know that I love you <3

#the wolf and the prophet #my writing #abby anderson #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson x reader #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby tlou #tlou2 #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson fic

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sseniita · 2 days

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hi I really like the dumb blonde story! Will you write more of it? If not that's okay!

hsjdh

(also can you tag me if you do so I can see it?)

@wacko-weirdo sorry it took like a million years,,,, i had no idea what to write LOL , this one is for u my liege

i pledge allegiance to dumb blondes (2!)

part 1!

The villain didn’t know why he thought this would be easy. The hero was loud and attracted a lot of attention, not only to themself but to the villain as well. They would insist on keeping the other soldiers occupied with card games and nightcaps that kept them dizzy till morning which resulted in ten extra laps around the base during morning drills.

They complained about broken nails, needed 15 minutes to do their hair, insisted on a private bathroom and argued with authoritative figures, but worst of all, they seemed to take a liking to the villain. They had gotten comfortable far too quickly. Though they never had the pleasure of fighting each other on the field, the sparring practice late at night behind the cafeteria proved the villain was missing out. The hero wasn’t good to any extent- but they were fun.

To say the villain liked them was an overstatement. Perhaps saying the hero liked the villain was too. The villain could barely stomach when they showed up to breakfast practically shirtless, when they laughed at half-assed jokes, and returned lazy and suggestive compliments. But the villain liked them on the ground. Panting, bloody, covered in bruises and dirt. He liked it when they bounced back in a pathetic attempt to bring the villain down. He liked the way they’d try stalling by flirting, it was different when they did it with the villain as compared to the soldiers- it was malicious with intent.

“That was terrible.” The hero was on the ground, staining the cuff of their sleeve by cleaning the blood off their face. “Get up,” he demanded.

The villain grabbed them by the collar of their jumpsuit. The hero only chuckled.

“Ok. Ok. I’m up.” They rasped.

“It’s been a month. You haven’t gotten any better. You’re wasting my time, hero.” The hero grabbed the villain’s wrist that was still gripping tightly to their collar.

“Maybe I don’t wanna get better. Maybe I like the way you hit me.”

Despite himself, the villain was amused. The hero was anything but heroic. They'd make a terrible captain.

“You’re insane. I can’t wait to kill you.” The hero smiled at that- like it was the first real compliment they received since they arrived at the base. They got their footing and the villain let go. The hero feigned disappointment.

“There goes my plan to continue your rehabilitation,” they sighed "why continue training me then?"

“It’s more so for myself. It’d be boring if you died so quickly.” he turned to his jacket he’d disregarded when the fight was getting stuffy. "Besides, it's not like you're learning much of anything."

“I should kill you.”

The villain clicked their tongue. “Now, now. Heroes don’t kill, sweetheart.” Before he could reach for his jacket, a force threw him down. The villain had almost forgotten the feeling of panic-fueled adrenaline, like a shock through his body.

In less than the second the villain took to realize what was going on, the hero was straddling his hips and sending two punches (one for good measure) right to his jaw. The villain spit out blood and stopped struggling against their tight hold.

The fact that the hero of all people had managed to overpower the villain was a cold realization that sent shivers up the his spine; (that could have also been thanks to the hero's muscular thighs around them- but who's to say) they were getting sloppy. The villain was at ease where he should definitely not have been.

Having the hero as his pawn in the game was as sobering of a thought as having the hero being the only pawn in the game, his plan, his magnum opus.

The hero could very easily destroy the villain's plan and make him start from zero, but if he played his cards right- they were also the key to his victory. Ironically, it wasn't much better on the hero's side: the hero needed the villain for their own reasons. Both extremely vital, but useless, if not fatal, if uncooperative. The villain knew the hero knew this. This is to say who is in control here?

After hero caught their breath, their hands landed on the villain's chest, applying enough pressure to be considered a warning.

“I win.” They smiled. “I may not be strong, but if I’m good at something it’s looking for an opening.” their lips curled into something knowing, something taunting. "Opportunities come in all shapes and sizes." They patted the villain's chest, almost amicably.

“I noticed, all with how natural it is for you to get on top of someone."

"Thanks." they sneered. No venom.

They leaned down, their lips dangerously close to the shell of his ear.

“I know what your plan is. Trust me I won’t make it easy.” The villain only listened, coming to the exciting realization he was the hero's only pawn as well; no one was in control. And they had entered a complex mutually dependent situation. Perhaps the first for both of them. How romantic.

The villain turned his head, lips touching the hero's cheek as they whispered.

"Perhaps I’ll underestimate you when the time comes. But for now, you’re nothing more than a teenager whose daddy didn’t let play with the big kids.”

“Ohh, it’s going to be so much fun bringing you down”

“Oh, the most fun. But we have things to do before then, don’t we?”

The hero pulled their face up to stare at the villain. Neither one of them looked away as they glared daggers. The hero finally chuckled, breathlessly.

“You know what the other soldiers say about us?” The hero whispered, the electric tension immediately disappearing. They seemed to be good at that.

“Can you blame them? A popular hero and reformed villain sneak away in the middle of the night for hours.” The villain explained. “Bound to raise some eyebrows.”

“Imagine the drama when we become best of friends at Hero HQ, only for a heartbreaking betrayal.”

“You’ve always been a spectacle, Hero.” The hero finally got off the villain, lending a hand the villain accepted and didn’t let go of once they were both standing. “You seem ok. But something tells me you’re so much worse.”

“You’re a bad influence. And a wretched teacher.”

“Unfixable, some would say.”

“Clearly.”

#hero x villain #villain x hero #writing #original fiction #hero and villain #this isn't worth the wait LOL #i hate these guys #boooo #tomato tomato

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