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theyhavetakenovermylife · 4 months

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Ok so I have a dorky request… I loved your MM fics and especially loved Donnie’s wholesome family one, SO CUTE!! Aww my heart!

Anyway I was wondering if you could do one where the reader has been friends with the family since they were kids like toddlers. And one day at dinner Splinter makes a comment about how they are part of the family and like a sister. The boys get uncomfortable and make gagging noises and the reader is just like ‘??? I thought you liked me?’ And the reason they didn’t like the sister comment is because they have a crush on them? It can be one of them or all of them or separate I don’t care.

Anyway I LOVE YOUR WORK! I have low key been stalking your blog for content…but before anything take care of yourself!! Drink water, eat food, and get rest! Ok love ya, bye!!!

Family Friend (Fluff)

MM!Raphael x reader

A/N: You’re an absolute cutie! Please continue your stalking as much as you want💚😭 I think you would like to know that I had a full breakfast before writing this, and a full glass of water by my side throughout😉 I decided to make this with Raph, because… well, Idk. Guess I’m a little Raph sick this morning lol. Hope you enjoy❤️

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Warnings: Spelling, because my dyslexia has been bucking this morning, a little bit cracky at the end😅❤️

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Splinter never really liked humans. No actually, he had always kind of hated them. Before he mutated he feared them, and after he just generally disliked them. And all four of his sons knew that very well. He had warned them several times, telling them never to get close to the humans that lived above ground, unless they wished to get hurt, or even worse, milked. Splinter used to tell his sons horrible stories about the humans, and how they hated everything that they didn’t understand. Well, that was with one exception; you.

First time you met the turtles and their rat father was by pure accident. Somehow, at the age of four years old, you had managed to get lost in the sewers, crying for your parents, unsure which way to go. Therefore you sat down, bawling your eyes out in the middle of the gross sewers of New York City, believing that this would be the last of you, and that you never would see your parents again. But to your luck, somebody heard you. Somewhere in the sewers, not far away, four turtle brothers heard crying, running to their father screaming about a ghost outside in the sewers.

Splinter, being the caring father that he was, told them he would go out and take a look for them, thinking it was probably nothing but the imagination of his sons. And that’s how Splinter ventured out in the sewer, his four year old sons following closely in his heels, before they found you crying somewhere in the corner.

Splinter’s first reaction was to run, leaving you behind while he tried to bring his sons back home safely. But his sons, being so incredibly slippery and hard to catch, with their big love for humans, had already taken a great liking to you, not leaving your side until Splinter agreed to bring you back to the lair. And that was how you spent the next few hours, safely in the lair, cuddled up with four mutant turtle toddlers, while Splinter tried to locate your family.

After that day, Splinter relaxed, thinking that his family was once again safe and hidden away from the humans. So could you imagine his shock when you stood in the doorway, asking if his sons wanted to come and play with you in the sewer. Even more shocked were he to see his sons already at your side, big puppy eyes as they waited for his permission. Splinter had already lost that battle.

Over the next eleven years, you would become a common occurrence in the brothers’ lives. Whenever you got the chance you would find yourself in the lair, hanging out with the boys that would become your closest friends. Even Splinter started to take a liking to you, even if it took a little longer than it had done with his sons. It went so far that he would invite you down to the sewers for family dinners, holidays and birthday parties, and even bring you gifts on your own birthdays.

You would become one of the few connections the boys had to the outside world, other than their few grocery runs every now and then. When the five of you weren’t playing video games, watching movies or running through the sewers or dark alleyways and rooftops, they would hang over your shoulder, watching as you did your homework, asking you all sorts of questions about human schools.

Raphael however, asked more than the others. How big was your school? Was it just like the schools in the movies you've watched together? And your teachers, were they just as horrible, and did they give you a lot of homework? The content of your homework however, didn’t interest him much. But watching you do them while telling him about your day was what he found interesting. Sitting at the kitchen table, balancing his sai between his finger and table, head resting on his other arm, stealing glances at you when you weren’t looking, deeply invested in whatever subject you were studying. He couldn’t help but hide a smile against his arm, whenever he saw you bite your lip in frustration.

Raphael’s brothers weren’t blind. They had noticed the way he would act whenever you were around, comparing it to how Leonardo would react whenever he saw a girl in a movie; awestruck. He was the first to greet you in the lair, and often the one to ask if you would come down for a visit. Once you would be in the lair, he would hover around you, unconsciously doing anything he could to stay close to you. How you still hadn’t noticed Raphael’s growing crush on you was a wonder to them. The way he would try to hug you longer than any of his brothers, and how he would poke you throughout the movie. His crush was so obvious, he might as well have been screaming it out loud in the lair. And yet you didn’t notice. But that wouldn’t last long.

It was regular Thursday evening, and you had once again been invited down to the lair for dinner with the turtles and their father. It went how it usually did, with Splinter and Michelangelo making dinner, while the three others kept you entertained. I didn’t take much, as you always found yourself having a great time in the lair.

After dinner was made, and the boys reluctantly had set the table, all of you sat down to eat. You talked about school, and that one test you had been nervous about. Splinter listened with a proud smile as you told him how it went. It did not matter to him what grade you got or how far you were in class. What mattered was how brave you had felt, making Splinter feel like a proud parent, remembering the scared little girl he and his sons found in the sewer. And it was with that feeling of proud fatherhood, that Splinter made what was meant to be a friendly comment, to who he now considered a surrogate daughter.

“It makes me happy to know you felt brave today. I think all of us feel so”, Splinter said, gesturing to the smiles on his sons’ faces. “Your growth makes me proud, but not just as a friend. (Y/N), I hope you know that we view you not just as a close friend of the family, but as a part of the family itself, like a daughter and sister”.

You smiled at Splinter, wanting to tell him how much it meant to you, and that you too felt like their family had become like a second home to you. But you couldn’t before laughter erupted from the boys, along with gagging noises, fingers pointing down their throat as they acted as if they were going to throw up. Raph however stared at his food in horror. No way his dad just said that to you!

You looked at the boys in confusion. It wasn’t uncommon for them to tease you, lightly commenting on your human looks or your smell. Nothing you couldn’t take. But that moment was different. Raphael avoided eye contact, head docked low looking displeased at his father. But his brothers looked like they were having the time of their lives, sending teasing smiles Raph’s way, making him cross his arms over his plastron, sulking even further into his chair.

“Hey!”, you said, catching their attention. “Don’t look that sad. I thought you liked me”.

“Oh, we like you, okay”, Donatello said, turning his attention towards Raphael with mischief in his eyes, nudging him with his elbow. “Some more than others”, he sang, wiggling his brows. Raph scowled at his brother, crossing his arms tighter. He now regretted sitting beside you, forcing himself to look away from you, his cheeks burning hot under his mask.

“Maybe you should quit it out, Donnie”, Leo said, a smile still plastered on his face. “You know how he gets when we tease him about that”.

“Shut it”, Raph grumbled, sliding even further down the chair, until he was almost laying on his shell.

“Teasing about what?”, you asked, still not fully understanding what was going on. “What is wrong with your dad saying I’m part of the family?”

The brothers giggled, before Mikey stood, hands cupped around his mouth as he yelled, “Raph has a crush on (Y/N)”.

“That’s it!”, Raph yelled, standing from his chair making his brothers jump in laughter. “Come here you little shits!”

You and Splinter watched as Raph chased his brothers around the lair, telling them to stop as they yelled about everything his crush on you had made him do or say.

“Okay, maybe you’re not like a sister to everyone”, Splinter said with you nodding in agreement, a small smile creeping up on your lips. Family or not, these boys meant everything to you, and you could not imagine a day without them.

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agirlwithdemonblood · 11 months

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The Broken Fan - Chapter 1

Pairings: Jensen Ackles & Reader (Read as first person!)

Series Summary: Always a nobody, always invisible, will this convention change things?

Chapter Summary: Growing up was never easy for me, but finally I may have found some light in my very dark world.

Warnings: Mentions of death, parents death, mentions of abuse, homelessness, anxiety, ect

Series Masterlist here! Main masterlist here!

Do you ever feel like if you disappeared today, nobody would notice? The world wouldn't stop, your disappearance wouldn't be plastered on milk cartons or across news channels, nobody would even know or care. That was my life. Nobody knew me, or cared for me. Nobody noticed me, not really. I was a ghost, an invisible presence left alone, all alone.

My parents died when I was a baby, I was too young to remember who they were or what happened really. I know what my Aunt told me, they wanted a night to themselves, so she babysat me. Around 4 in the morning she received a phone call saying that they passed away, asleep in their beds when the fire took their lives.

I don't even remember having parents, I have photographs of us together, but their faces are unknown to me. I didn't know them, I didn't get the chance.

After the fire, I stayed with my Aunt. Things were weird there. She'd look at me with such heartbreak and disgust and I had no idea why. I was just a kid, what did I do?

But I must have done something wrong, because when I turned 6 she told me she couldn't take care of me anymore, and the next morning two kind people packed me in their car and drove me away. I never saw my Aunt again.

My first foster home was alright, I was happy for a little bit. There were a lot of kids in the house, various ages, both sexes. I didn't like the kids too much. They were loud and annoying, and hyper. They always wanted to play stupid games like hide and seek, or tag. I didn't want to play dumb games, I wanted something real. I wanted to connect, to have somebody next to me.

And eventually, I did.

Henry, my foster dad, was always there for me. He actually cared about me, noticed me, heard me. He would spend hours at night reading me fairy tales until I fell asleep, and during the day he'd teach me things like how to ride a bike or read.

I had an actual connection with him, he was the closest thing to a father I ever had, and I loved him more than anybody. I thought I finally had somebody permeant in my life, but I was wrong.

My foster mom Sandy didn't like me. She hated the fact that her husband had his attention on me, and she thought it was strange for a six year old to bond with an older man rather than the children all around me. She said it wasn't healthy.

So he was taken away from me. After many tears shed and heartbreaking hugs, I said goodbye to the only person who's ever seen me for me, and moved to a new foster home.

The new home was horrible. The parents weren't friendly, and I was the only child in their care. I was forced to follow their schedule which consisted of three boring things, every day.

Cleaning, school, homework, food, bed. No reading fairy tales, no riding my bike, no playing with toys.

I hated it there. I felt so alone, so invisible. So I left. I ran away thinking I'd be better off somewhere else. But as a 7 year old girl, I didn't get very far and as soon as I returned, things got bad.

At first, it was the belt. My foster dad would smack my arms hard, than my legs, sometimes my face if I was a bad enough kid. If I cried or continued to disobey, the belt was replaced with his palms. This happened for years, non stop torture.

I didn't stop trying to run away, every few months I'd take off, praying that nobody would find me, they'd leave me alone but everytime I was brought back and beaten worse.

Finally, the parent's gave up on me and I went to another home. But I was so angry, so filled with anxiety and rage that I drove away anybody who could possibly care for me.

By the time I was 18, I had been in 13 Foster homes. My last one wasn't too bad, but I didn't talk, I barely ate, I didn't connect. I didn't want another Henry situation. I didn't want to care about others because I knew they'd leave me.

And I was right.

On my 18th Birthday, my present was a knock at my door from my parents telling me I've aged out and I need to leave. I received a check to get me started, a bag of food, and a cell phone, than I was left alone.

The money wasn't much, definetly not enough to get an apartment so I decided to get a car instead. I ended up using all my money to buy a crappy little Honda Civic and I've called it my home ever since.

Sleeping in my car wasn't half bad, I had my own space, I didn't need to listen to anybody or share it with anybody, it was all mine.

One night I parked beside a motel that had free Wifi, and I was bored so I decided to find something to watch, I never really watched TV or movies, but tonight I wanted to.

The first show I found was something called Supernatural, and for some reason I felt a connection, like something was telling me to watch it.

God, am I happy that I did.

The show felt like home, it gave me something to look forward to, something to provide me comfort on the hardest of days. I felt connected, like I knew the characters and I was living their life.

And one of the characters, Dean.. He awoke something inside of me that I never knew was there. He made me feel like I wasn't crazy, that life was hard but I needed to keep going.

The more I watched, the more I started to feel like I belonged somewhere. The show pulled me out of the darkness slowly, convincing me that life was better if I was here to live it. It gave me hope. It allowed me to breathe again.

Today is my 25th birthday, and I was celebrating like I always did, drinking beer in my car and listening to music while mindlessly scrolling through a page for Supernatural fans.

I froze when I glanced about an article about Supernatural's newest convention, which happened to be a few hours from where I lived. Normally, I wouldn't think twice about going, people like me don't go to shows or events like this, but I needed this. I really needed it.

I checked my bank account and nearly leaped with joy when I realized I had enough for a ticket, living in my car finally payed off.

Without hesitation, I bought a ticket for the convention and for the first time, I felt excited. I felt hope beaming inside of me. I could finally be surrounded with people with similar interests, and feel normal for once. Hopefully.

The next morning, I walked into the office building I worked at, and made my boss Brad a coffee, like he always expected. Knocking on his door, I took a deep breath before entering, walking towards his marble desk and placing the coffee on the table.

He nodded before taking the cup in his hand and sipping it, like he always did. His eyes flickered up towards me when he noticed I haven't left yet.

"Do you need something?" He asked.

I swallowed hard and stepped closer to the desk, "I just wanted to ask you something if you had a moment."

He nodded for me to go on and I shook off the anxiety nearly suffocating me. Confidence, I need to have confidence.

"I was wondering if I could take a week off starting Friday evening, there's somewhere I need to go out of town."

He stared back at me, the silence was suffocating, the tension high. He shook his head and looked back down to the papers scattered across his desk.

"No, sorry that won't work."

It felt like a punch to my gut, I haven't taken one day off, I constantly worked overtime, I did everything and anything for this ass, and I can't take some time off?

I swallowed down the nerves and sat in the chair in front of his desk, noting the way he stared at me confused. "Sir, all due respect I have been working non stop for the past 7 months and I have never asked for a day off, I've never taken a sick day and I always have my work done, all I need is-"

Before I could finish my sentence, his hand was raised, eyes locked on mine. "I said no Y/N, is that all?"

I could feel tears welling in my eyes as I stood from my spot, making my way towards the door. Anger was bubbling through my system and I felt like I couldn't breath.

I turned quickly and sighed, "Actually, there's one more thing."

He scoffed and looked up towards me, awaiting my response. I swallowed hard and frowned, "I am not going to be back tomorrow, I quit."

His mouth dropped open and he stared back in shock, but I didn't stay long to hear whatever response he was going to throw at me. I rushed as fast as I could out of the building back to my car. I slammed the door as the tears rushed down my face.

What did I do? Why did I quit my job for a convention? What the hell was so special about this damn show.

I finally let go of all the feelings I was holding onto, bursting into sobs of pain and frustration. Life was harsh and unforgiving, every moment of hope was washed away.

The only thing I had left was the convention, and even than I was clearly going to be the outcast, the weird girl who looks like she's never showered or slept a day in her life.

Maybe it would be okay. Maybe things would be different here, the fans seem nice enough online, why wouldn't they be in person?

And if Dean Winchester was still inside Jensen, I knew he wouldn't look at me like I was garbage, if he ever even noticed me.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Chapter 2 coming soon stay tuned!

Like, comment, and reblog, feedback is my fuel 💕

#supernatural one shot #jensenxyou #spn fic #jensen x reader #dean x reader #jensen's smile #dean winchester #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean

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w3ath3r-0f-sw34t3rz · 6 months

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a (not) mini n extensively angsty callum playlist 🪽🧣🌊💙🐍🌬️📚

iris (goo goo dolls) "and i don't want the world to see me // 'cause i don't think that they'd understand // when everything's made to be broken // i just want you to know who i am"

the cut that always bleeds (conan gray) "'cause you know what you're doing // when you're coming back // and i don't want to have // another heart attack"

francis forever (mitski)

my heart is buried in venice (ricky montgomery) "say, say what you mean // tell me the truth or tell me you're through // oh, oh, oh, don't leave me to breathe // don't leave me to bleed // for someone who chose to leave me be"

nightmare (boywithuke)

little dark age (mgmt) "if you get out of bed and find me standing all alone // open-eyed, burn the page, my little dark age"

stockholmsvy (hannes x waterbaby) "i don't wanna say i'm not okay // you say you wanna go i wanna stay // baby it's okay // yeah, i'm okay by myself // you and me // made a lover of an enemy (yeah)"

memories (conan gray)

something in the orange (zac bryan) "but i miss you in the mornings when i see the sun // something in the orange tells me we're not done"

bad blood (boywithuke)

prey (the neighborhood)

be nice to me (the front bottoms) "but you're a killer and i'm your best friend // think it's unfair, your situation // you say i'm changing // sorry i didn't know i had to stay the same // can we talk about this later? // your voice is driving me, driving me insane"

out of tune (boywithuke)

daylight (david kushner) "oh, i love it and i hate it at the same time // you and i drink the poison from the same vine"

i wait for you (alex g)

comfort crowd (conan gray) "my breath's gettin' short and i'm unsteady // wellin' up in tears as i lay upon your belly // telling you, 'i'm fine i don't really need nobody' // but you say through a sigh // that i said that lie already"

stress relief (late night drive home) "i never thought you'd end up with me for long, baby // running in quicksand to keep you here with me // i had you in my head, baby, every day // towards the end, i just couldn't hear your name // it's stress relief from everything ... in love with a ghost, please don't (won't you) come back"

wisdom (mother mother)

reflections (the neighborhood) "where have you been? // do you know if you're coming back? // we were too close to the stars // i never knew somebody like you, somebody // falling just as hard // i'd rather lose somebody than use somebody // maybe it's a blessing in disguise (i sold my soul for you) // i see my reflection in your eyes"

idtwcbf (friends) (boywithuke)

one more hour (tame impala) "wasn't brave enough to tell you // but there ain't gonna be another chance // it's not long until // all that i have // and everything's still // the minutes are racin' // whatever i've done // i did it for love"

in the aeroplane over the sea (neutral milk hotel)

new person, same old mistakes (tame impala) "or see it from this way 'round // feeling it overtake // all that i used to hate // one by one, every trait // i tried, but it's way too late // all the signs i don't read // two sides of me can't agree // will i be in too deep? // going with what i always longed for // feel like a brand-new person // but you'll make the same old mistakes"

#im normal #i love him a normal amount #full playlist of my spotify 🫶#please check that one out bc this was hard to narrow down #and i clearly couldn't very well #callum #callum tdp #tdp callum #tdp #the dragon prince #music #playlists #character playlists

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turtlemagnum · 22 days

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i think my first exposure to AI art might've been this video where somebody was testing out this new, weird thing where they automatically generate a song using AI, and i couldnt help but feel that it was an indictment of the modern music scene that a goddamn computer could effortlessly and accurately replicate the generic swill that passes for popular music nowadays. didnt have a vocalist synthesized yet but those have been becoming a thing too, or so i hear.

i saw a little article about how the newer generations of gamers are turning more and more to retro games. as somebody technically belonging to the "newer generations" this felt self evident, as frankly most of the gaming i do nowadays is almost invariably in an emulator. i think that to a certain extent, most of the best mainstream games that are going to be made already have been, at least for the forseeable future of major developers with games made scientifically perfect for milking you for the most money possible rather than as an art form. im sure it's all gonna collapse in on itself eventually, from what i hear some of the older folks who lived through more than i have we've been here before. hell, pretty much anybody who cares even a bit about gaming history knows first and foremost about the gaming crash of the early 80s, mostly spurred on by the temporal equivalent of modern cheap asset flip garbage that floods most stores these days. it's hard not to feel like we're about to see a massive crash yet again, with the ones inheriting the earth being the little fellas, and of course nintendo. which, makes sense, their earliest history is of weathering shit just like this, of course they'd know when to spot enshittification and stay clear of it. i'm in no way saying that nintendo is exempt of being a shitty corporation, but i will say that from a business standpoint they're one of the only ones i know of that actually seem to understand the idea of sustainability on a broad scale. hell of a lot better than the likes of activision, thats for damn sure. but back to what i was actually trying to get at before i adhd tangent'd, i think it makes a lot of sense that when the majority of the shit being put on the market is corporatist, design by comittee, prefab trash with aggressive monetization and a consistent attitude of fixing any problems in patches, it makes a hell of a lot of sense that we'd go back to our roots. NES mario is the same as its ever been, has been for over 30 years, and will be in another 30. you dont gotta worry about them patching it to make it actually function as advertised, or patching it from being something you enjoyed into something you hate, or having fomo marketing based microtransaction bullshit. the most that's gonna change is that every now and again, nintendo will make the only version they give not have flashing lights for epileptic folks, or patch out mike tyson because he sucks and replace him with a white guy, and the white guy's less hard but thats ok because it's still pretty hard, and either way it's a good game, fun, and you can still find the original on rom sites and also probably ebay if you dont have a vpn but do have a disposable income, so dont worry about it. getting sidetracked again, ANYWAYS-

what i wanted to get at is that i wonder if we're gonna see a similar resurgence in other old kinds of media just like, in general, for the mainstream. like why watch the 22nd reboot of ghost busters when the originals are right there. king crimson's still good, why dont you listen to them instead of bemoaning how your new favs are problematic, even though i dont think fripp can reclaim the fag slur (im gay, i can it's fine). i've recently been watching fist of the north star and original dragon ball, ilike the m. there are books. lots of those, actually,. you can read em! if you have the attention span. i honestly think we might be seeing more and more of this, now that im looking out for it. like i see just like, random people mention how much they like prog rock or 1930s dracula. relatively normals talk about how they like lemon demon these days. those stupid aestheticized classic anime accounts on twitter get sososo many likes. can you tell im sleep deprived writing this? i can, and im writing thjis. im writing this SO HARD. send poast.

#turtle hall of fame

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thorntopieces · 7 months

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41, 35, 34, 27, 26, 23, 16, 8, 2 for ask game - 🌙

gonna do them in the opposite order you put them /lh

2. do you drink tea or coffee? how do you take it?

i can't drink coffee anymore due to oas (oral allergy syndrome) but i love tea. depending on the tea i drink it differently - if it's fruit tea it's with a bit of sugar and lactosefree milk, if not i just put sugar in it. i like sweet-tasting stuff

8. what's your favourite band/artist?

based on my listening history, it'd currently have to be wardruna (spotify link / youtube link). also like aurora, ghost and jack stauber

16. want any tattoos? what of?

oh yeah, multiple. i've been looking specifically for a tattoo artist to get a double triforce from a link between worlds done. apart from that i really want to get simple bats tattooed somewhere on me, a spooky house in lineart style and a black and white broken compass. depending on if i can cope with it, i would also kind of like to get doll ball joint tattoos on my knees

23. do you believe in aliens?

if you ask me emotionally, i'd tell you i hate the concept of space really fucking bad and so aliens? don't want to think about it. but academically? i see no reason why there wouldn't be aliens out there somewhere, but i heavily doubt they look anything like we imagine them to in popular fiction and whatever nasa's ufo stuff is on about.

26. what are some seemingly childish things you like?

i still sleep with a lot of plushies at night, i am really really heavily motivated by candy/sweets and ig i still go back to old comfort shows from my childhood now and then (winx club, captain sabertooth etc)

27. what's your favourite book? or one you've read several times?

favourite book? hard to tell, i mostly read fanfiction nowadays. but it's probably before the coffee gets cold (toshikazu kawaguchi). also really liked hamnet (maggie o'farrell) a lot when i read it a year ago. also some of the original sherlock holmes stories bring me a lot of joy.

34. what's your favourite flower?

i've always had a great fondness for lilacs. every house i lived in as a child had a large lilac bush/plant. also cherry blossoms, though. pretty

35. do you currently have a squish?

you ig lmao /lh

41. what's your favourite cartoon?

electing to include anime here. fullmetal alchemist brotherhood. no question about it.

#asks and answers #moon !!

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gracifleur · 1 year

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my brain these days is the consistency of mashed potatoes so most activity is gonna be when the dash is dead af for my timezone so expect replies in the middle of the night like some ghost or smthin anyways i wanna like also chat quick af on two points

i added in my pinned post that i use legacy editor. until tumble hard forces all blog to use the new/beta editor that is what i am using. im too old & tired for editor vs editor trim post style small text vs small small text arguments day in & day out on the dash or in priv chats between pals. everyone is selfish & will use the editor they want & format how they want bc it’s their blog & they are to do as they please. i am no different. if this bothers you then unfollow or drop interaction i mean this with no hard feelings, no malice, no negative like im being as monotone about this as one can with text on screen: i dont care, i dont mind. do whatever you need for your comfort & piece of mind & ill do the same for me. if i keep seeing guilt trippy posts on the dash about this subject ima hard block. im just here to write silly fictional people ive stop caring about how tumblr hates writers & its own platform & wants to destroy the UI that works & replace it with a mobile on desktop version to compete with other social media. the end !

i semi mentioned this in a tag on my shaymin sideblog but considering my two sideblogs are canon characters im putting a hard boundary that if you don’t follow shea & show like zero interest in her vs my two canon muses on those sideblogs im gonna hard block bc im not gonna have all my hard work on my original character ignored bc its easier or more preferred to interact w/ canons. this is not something that has been an issue yet i’m just being upfront about this now so that i can point to this post on occasion like look buddy we drink oc respect juice here. esp since one of those muses on the sideblogs is inseparable from the divergent lore ive created for shea that rules on this blog. that’s it.

again, none of this is negative it’s just blunt. autistic monotone sounds mean, but the vibes are good here & i plan to keep them good. but boundaries are important to enforce even with flowers in hand u kno. anyway have a banana milk on me friends. i bought too many.

#( ooc; farllee opens their yap. )

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paradoxesofgalaxies · 2 years

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Hey buttercup do you have a story/stories about your encounters with ghosts at the thrift store? Or if you'd prefer, you can consider this an ask to talk about anything about working at the store! Or both :)

Thanks darling! Especially for being so patient <33

I worked at the thrift store for a few years at the end of college and just after. My husband (who was my best friend at the time) had worked there on and off since he was 16 so he got me an interview with his manager (we didn't start dating until about six months later, much to the confusion of everyone around us bc he's an openly gay man and I was still girl-moding at the time. But he's known I was trans longer than I have lol)

But yeah. I really enjoyed working there. I had a lot of fun and interesting coworkers and the work itself was fun. I started as a cashier but soon got pulled to work in the back room sorting and pricing donations which is where most of the ridiculous stories come in.

Like all the weird things we got in donations. There are the more basic things like used sex toys and other things that should have gone in the garbage. More unexpected was the sheer number of urns that got donated (ashes included). We would hold them in the office for a few months hoping someone would come back for them, but if they remained unclaimed we would do periodic scattering ceremonies.

Then there was the time we got an oil lamp in which the oil had been switched for blood. That was a bit creepy.

Another time, I was going through donations and got a white powder all over me. It started bothering my skin so I went to the break room to wash it off. Right as I was running my hands under water, my husband came running in to stop me because the powder was lye. He then had to force me to douse my hands in milk to stop the reaction (which was awful. I HATE milk. Like phobic levels. I have cried from having to touch milk before. So he had to force me to do it but it was necessary). Both he and my manager had also gotten lye on them and we'd all breathed some in. It was a rough night but we all ended up fine ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

(oh and the lye came from an old fish tank that was caked in it. I guess it's used to clean fish tanks??)

We also found cocaine in donations more than once...

Which on that note, my manager was my weed dealer for a while which was interesting.

It was also a really cool job bc we had a lot of regulars who were great. There were many times a customer was giving me a hard time and one of the regulars would pop up to tell them off and defend me. When I quit, one of the regulars brought me a cake and balloons. There were just so many great people that I got to know.

I've already rambled quite a bit so I'll wrap up here but I'm happy to answer more questions any time!

#galactic gab #asked and answered #drugs tw #blood tw

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thenotsohottopic · 3 years

Text

Here to Stay

character(s): c!Tommy & reader

genre: angst to fluff?

warnings: swearing, mentions of death, mentions of abandonment

this is for @yamturds 1k followers event!! :D you should go follow her, they have amazing writing talent and I love all of their works!

I'm using prompt 15 - "I'm here now, and I'm never leaving again."

---

When Tommy thought about past events, all he knew from each and every memory was either death or abandonment.

It followed him around like a sick plague and he hated how it always seemed to affect those around him. He felt burdened, not because of how it followed but because it always seemed to take those he cares for.

That's why it hurt so much when he found out you died. You were his rock through almost everything, you were there when Wilbur wasn't. There when he needed it most.

Yet even after days of hurt and suffering, he couldn't handle even being close to the ghost version of you. Your eyes were always so bright and full of happiness, soft laughter that would never fail to calm him down. This ghost wasn't anything like that. It was as if nothing but an empty shell. It's eyes dull and skin slightly transparent, the smile it had wasn't one that would make him smile as well, it was a smile that would send chills down his spine from how void of emotion it was.

It wasn't very close to Ghostbur personality wise. The male ghost was always so sweet, talking to people and offering blue. Sure, every now and then he would get annoying, but he was still nice to be around.

Your ghost wasn't. He hated being around it, because it never talked. It just floated around the place and listened to everything, giving smiles that had no emotion behind them. How could this happen? Why couldn't this musk of what used to be you, be like the way it should have?

Holding his legs close to his chest Tommy rocked back and forth on the ground. Tears streaming down his face as he cried, his tears bringing the only source of warmth he's felt in days. His tears of sadness were soon turned into one's of anger when he saw your ghost sitting there from beside him, it's face still holding no emotion as it stared at him.

His burning hatred for the thing grew as he grabbed the old glass bottle from his side, throwing it at you ghost with an excess amount force and watching it shatter beside the ghost.

It had moved out of the way, however it didn't do much. The ghost just sat there unfazed, turning its attention from the broken shards to the boy.

"GO AWAY!" He yelled in hopes of it disappearing, he didn't want the thing here. Almost as if the the thing felt actual pain from hearing his words, he could've swore he saw it wince. Tommy didn't care though, he just continued to sob as the ghost soon floated away.

After that night, your ghost never kept close to him like it used to. Just stuck beside Ghostbur for most of the time, going everywhere with him. Not that Ghostbur minded, if anything he really enjoyed having the other ghost around. Though the ghost couldn't quite remember your actual name so he decided to call you Buddy. An alternative version of friend.

Yet here Buddy, as what Tommy decided to call you considering it didn't feel right to use your actual name, was helping Tommy kill Dream.

He didn't know why you decided to, but he could careless as he entered the prison unnoticed. It wasn't that hard but he almost got caught multiple times however, he still made it threw.

So as Tommy, Ghostbur, and Buddy all sat outside of Dreams cell, Tommy made the mistake of holding an item before Sam turned away and had to go back.

"Drink this. Right now." Sam demanded as he handed Tommy's invisible figure a glass full of milk, Tommy appearing once more after he finished it.

The two bickering for a bit before something happened, the platform that was ment to take people towards the cell was on its way back.

Without Buddy and Ghostbur.

"Sam what are you doing?!" Tommy yelled as he watched.

"Tommy?" Ghostbur asked in fear, scared of what was to come and saddened by the broken promise. "Tommy you promised!"

As Ghostbur was freaking out, you just sat confused. In an attempt to calm down the other ghost you tried to hug him but it didn't work seeing as he couldn't focus on the touch.

It was almost as if realization hit Buddy as they started flailing their arms in hopes of getting the platform back.

There was a single faint word heard, it sounded broken rather than echoey but he heard.

"Tommy."

***

Tommy wasn't sure what to think.

There stood Wilbur. His trench coat still on his body with bandages around his arm, a white streak coloring his curly brown locks. Wilbur had a smile on his face when he saw him, "Hello, Tommy."

Tommy stared in shock, unable to speak or move. Until he saw movement from a little ways in the distance, an extremely familiar figure running back towards Wilbur, before it suddenly stopped.

He felt the tears prick at his eyes as they held eye contact, a broken whisper leaving Tommy's throat, "Y/n." With that he felt himself being pulled into their chest, a tight grip holding into him as he himself clung onto them.

He felt safe for once as he sobbed, the familiar hard texture of Y/n's platform boots against his own shoes. He wasn't sure what to say nor think, he just started mumbling as Y/n patted his head with quite sounds of reassurance.

"You- You were gone a-and-" With a gentle squeeze, Y/n hushed the boy. Keeping their protective grip on him as they spoke.

"I'm here now, and I'm never leaving again."

---

this isn't that good considering it's kinda all over the place but other than that I hope you like it!! congrats on 1k yams <3

#tommy x reader #platonic tommyinnit x reader #tommyinnit x reader #x reader #reader insert #dsmp imagine #dsmp reader insert #dsmp x reader #wilbur x reader #vilbur x reader #wilbur soot x reader #dream smp x reader #incorrect dream smp #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt reader insert #yams' 1k event

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bunny-hoodlum · 3 years

Text

Asynchronous With You: Ch 5

ship: naruhina

rating: teen (maybe mature later)

tags: Modern Day AU, Foster Siblings, Family, Angst, Unrequited Love, Poor Communication/Noncommunication, Found Family

summary: An awkward journey full of self-denial and missed moments between two foster siblings. Perhaps their love will find the right timing someday.

Neji met them outside the dorm gates. As generous as his dorm-mate Lee was, he couldn't ask him to step out for their sake.

They followed Neji to a nearby linear park that segregated the school grounds from the business park on the other side. It felt like a glass-less greenhouse, with polished granite beneath their feet and a vine-carpeted roof overhead. The benches were slabs of granite, as were the other fixtures, like an orb fountain in the center, with flawless skin of water running over its surface. The full trees muffled the night, with its crickets and distant chugging cars. The gentle, steady trickle contrasted against their footsteps, like two off-tempo drums and hers a mournful castanet.

Now that they were finally here, she was beginning to lose her nerve, she was forgetting what she had to complain about.

All that mattered was that she was healthy, right? All that mattered was that they were actually taking good care of her.

But the last thing she said to her, telling her to go home, saying that at least one of them should be loved by their parents, it began to eat at Hinata.

Could it be that she doesn't have any love to come home to?

Like resonance, her soul trembled and her ribs ached. The heel of her palm pressed against the skin between her wet eyes.

"I've become like them. I messed up."

The bench caught her before she could sink down to the ground.

"What're you talking about?" came Naruto's voice, barely reaching her ears.

"You mean Aunt and Uncle?"

Hinata nodded.

"What??" Naruto smacked his forehead rather hard. "How were you supposed to act?! They knew where you were! Nothing was stopping them from taking you guys back--"

"We don't know that." Hinata argued.

"Bullshit!"

"We don't," Her shoulders lifted, turning rigid. "They could barely take care of the two of us. It would've been the same if they had to take care of two daughters--"

"What about visits? What's so hard about keeping in touch?!"

She stayed silent. It wasn't that she hadn't considered that, it was that it was too upsetting to ruminate on any deeper.

"Ten years, Hinata. They had to have lied to her, right? Raised her believing she was an only child? C'mon, why aren't you angrier about this?!"

She wasn't sure if it was defiance that lifted her chin, but the eyes she chose to meet were Neji's as she implored him join in.

His eyes closed as he released a pensive sigh. "What's she like?"

"Don't change the subject," Naruto snapped. "Hinata needs to vent."

She prodded Neji with her stare. He shook his head.

"Who are you talking about?" Neji punctuated his rhetoric with a sidelong glance, causing Naruto to bristle. "This Hinata?"

"Yeah, this Hinata. Our Hinata. What the fuck, we've shared the same home for ten years! Hinata! You vent! You vented the other month about your-your shirt!" His face reddened as he brought up, perhaps, the worst example he possibly could.

"I was in a weird mood," Hinata said quickly, giving Naruto whiplash.

"A--A 'weird' mood?! What, like you just felt like messing with me kind of 'weird'??"

Hinata lamely shrugged her shoulders before curling in on herself like an armadillo. She could only imagine how exponential his irritation was to increase. She should've answered Neji's question right away instead of trying to convey her complaints to Neji, because now they were getting way off topic. Which was ironic for Naruto, who thought Neji was the one diverting attention away from her pain.

Neji pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't know what the story is, and I don't think I want to know."

"Good. 'Cuz I don't want to talk about it." Naruto huffed as he crossed his arms.

Silence lapsed around them. Somehow Hinata was rather surprised their arguing managed to fizzle out on its own and so quickly. The past was almost laughable in how different it was from the present.

'That's right. It's always going to be rocky at first, but it takes time to get used to one another.' This was proof that she and Hanabi could grow into sisters no matter how much time had been lost.

"Her name's Hanabi. Her favorite foods are bananas and milk, and she hates the herb mitsuba. She's cheerful, cheeky, and surprisingly athletic. And... I really want to get to know her better." The tears fell swifter and harder on her lap as she re-conjured the heartbroken betrayal she had put on Hanabi's face.

She really hoped it wasn't too late.

Neji joined her side and rubbed her back, while Naruto kept his distance.

Even though he had been given Neji's explicit blessing years before, somehow it didn't feel appropriate for him to console her too.

Looking at them now, it was like those two had never grown apart, not even a centimeter. And they had been communicating with their eyes, he was sure of it. Speaking around him, because he wasn't actually a part of this.

They're what real siblings look like.

________________________

Taking the midnight train back home, Naruto spent the next thirty minutes absorbed in the things that amused him, from sexy two-minute shorts, to prank compilations and this one guy from Kaminari that totally bites at rapping. Absolutely no one, neither he nor his 745k followers know if he's a comedy channel where he's bad on purpose, or if he's just gotten popular for all the wrong reasons, but watching him never fails to inspire a deep gut-laugh from Naruto.

Because he wouldn't be laughing this hard if something was bothering him, especially not a whole host of somethings.

He ignored how arriving at their station didn't feel quite right, how following Hinata didn't feel normal.

He was surprised when she finally started talking to him, yet the weariness her voice instilled was not lost on him.

"Who was the first girl you liked?"

"Hm? Oh, guess that'd be Sakura-chan."

"I see. And how old were you when you knew?"

"Eight, I guess?"

"Eight," The number floated from her mouth in an amazed whisper, "Do you think somebody already likes Hanabi-chan?"

A blond brow perked up. "Is this that protective Onee-san instinct kicking in already?" When she giggled, his heart sank.

"I suppose it is."

And when the silence closed in on him again, he spoke up to keep it going. "Uh, what about you?"

Her steps faltered for a second, then picked up with an exaggerated bounce. "There's someone."

"Still? Like, ongoing?"

"Mmhm."

Naruto blinked rapidly, whiplash striking again. How? How did he not know his sister liked someone? "Since when?"

"Mmmm," She hummed that note a little too long that bordered on mocking him, and he was about to storm on ahead of her, until she said, "Third grade."

"What?!" Ineloquent as that was, he somehow expected her to answer him. He stood there as she traipsed away, waiting until he was finally fed up. "Well, who the fuck is it?!"

"Guess."

He jogged after her. "Kiba?" His mouth soured at the thought.

She crossed her forearms into an 'X', making the buzzer sound in game shows when the contestant got the answer wrong. "Bubuu."

"Shino?" He didn't know what to think about that if it were true. Guess they were both quiet and smart and a little weird. Is that what compatibility looks like?

"Bubuu," she went again.

What other guys was she in contact with?

Shikamaru was a good friend who came over to game sometimes, but he definitely didn't sense anything there. No, no way it could be him. And everyone was pretty sure Sai was asexual.

"Sasuke?" Why not? He was the school heartthrob nine years running. Didn't matter whether Naruto understood the taste of girls or not, they all wanted him. He kinda wishes he noticed sooner now, because he imagining a plain girl like her pining for someone unreachable and he really hates that for her. When she slows to a stop under the streetlamp, he thinks he's finally figured it out, though the truth ended up being really anticlimactic in the end.

She half-turns towards him, her face blank save for the edge of distaste clinging to the corners of her lips and eyes.

"Gross."

He reeled back. "Gross? Whaddya mean gross?" She continued on her way, forcing him to jog after her. "Hey, I can't believe you think he's gross! Are you just being a contrarian?" Her pace picked up faster. "Y'know, like what unpopular girls do when they can't fit in?"And faster. "You really think he's gross?" She was hurrying on ahead and he was trying to catch a glimpse of her face, just a little bit of veracity. "Hinata?!"

They arrived at the steps of their apartment.

"You have until graduation to guess!" She called over her shoulder as she ran ahead, her voice pitching high at the end.

She was upset.

Her footsteps resounded through the corridors like frantic clapping, but he wasn't being congratulated at all.

It was finally apparent to him that he hasn't paid attention to Hinata in a long, long time. That's why Neji was making fun of him.

He took the elevator to their apartment, and when he reached the hole between their bedrooms, he got down on both knees and crouched his spine. They haven't used this in years, he couldn't believe how small they used to be, this hole had to be over three feet from the floor. It was making his back hurt. "Hinata," He bit his tongue with a pause. "What happens if I can't guess by graduation?" Nothing. Just silence. "Hinata? Are you not going to talk to me anymore?"

"Yeah," If a ghost could croak, that's what it sounded like. "If you can't guess by graduation, I'm not going to talk to you anymore."

He palmed the wall as he drew to full height, then stepped away, neither urgency nor insult registering in his chest. He didn't know what was in there. Maybe nothing. He raised his voice a little, just enough so that she could hear.

"I'm going to take this another weird mood of yours, okay? There's no way you really mean that."

Hovering for half a second more, he didn't give her time to respond as he headed for his bed on the opposite side of the room.

Maybe Sakura had the right idea about family. Maybe it's better to just find your own.

________________________

AN: Lel, I totally forgot to add the summary and ratings thing in the last chapter. 😜😅 Hope you liked this one!

#asynchronous with you fanfiction #naruhina #naruhina fanfiction #naruto x hinata #chapter 5 #modern au

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kanerallels · 3 years

Text

I'd Follow You To The Great Unknown

(for Kanera Week, based on the prompt "found family/believing")

Read on AO3 here!

@kaneraweek

Word Count: 3,299

Tags/Warnings: rated T for allusions to torture and serious injury

Summary: Nothing lasts forever. Kanan and Hera are made painfully aware of that after a slipup during a mission

Kanan had known this would happen someday. It had been inevitable from the start. Even the Spectre could only avoid the Empire for so long.

And he had, since he was twenty years old. For the past eight years, he’d fought against the Empire, side by side with the Rebel cell he’d helped to form-- Sabine Wren, Ahsoka Tano, Ryder Azadi. And eventually, Ezra Bridger and Hera Syndulla. They worked well together. Kanan couldn’t imagine working without them.

But then he’d gone on a mission. Just a routine op, nothing they hadn’t done a million times before. It was a milk run-- what was the worst that could happen?

Typically enough, the Empire had seemed to take that as a challenge. The literal worst possible thing had happened-- an Inquisitor had showed up. And Kanan had known, right then and there, that there was only one possible outcome. Ahsoka hadn’t been anywhere near them, and the Inquisitor had been heading straight for Ezra.

So Kanan had dropped his katana and called on the Force, throwing Ezra as far away from the Inquisitor as possible. And as the Inquisitor had turned towards him with devious delight in his eyes, Kanan had pulled out his lightsaber and ignited it, blue light blazing to life.

They’d gotten away by some miracle. Kanan had managed to hold back the Inquisitor long enough for Hera to bring the Ghost in and pick them up. And now they were on their way back, and Kanan knew what had to happen next.

“Kanan, what are we gonna do?”

Ezra’s question snapped him out of his thoughts, and he looked at the kid, who’s eyes were wide with fear. “The Inquisitor-- he saw you. He saw your lightsaber.”

“I know, kid,” Kanan said, keeping his voice calm. And he felt calm, strangely enough. Maybe it was the total certainty he held in his heart about their next move. Putting a hand on Ezra’s shoulder, he told him, “It’s gonna be okay.”

Some of the fear faded from Ezra’s face, and he nodded. “But-- how?”

For the first time, Kanan found himself hesitating. He didn’t want to lie to Ezra about this. But he knew there was no way the boy would let him make the next move, not if he could help it. “We’ll talk when we get home,” he told Ezra. “For now, stay calm, and be ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“Whatever path is set before you.”

Frowning, Ezra started, “What does that--”

The intercom crackled, and Hera’s voice came over it. “We’re landing. Everyone off, fast.”

The crew piled off, Ezra in the lead. As Kanan headed off, Hera joined him. She caught his gaze, her eyes concerned. “Kanan--”

“We’ll talk when we get to Mace and Depa,” Kanan promised quietly. He started to move out of the ship, but Hera grabbed him by the arm.

“No,” she said flatly. “Now.”

Kriff. Kanan winced, but reluctantly stayed behind as the others filed off the ship. Once they were gone, he slowly turned to Hera, meeting her gaze.

“Kanan,” she said, her voice steady. “Tell me you’re not going to do what I think you’re going to do.”

Kanan met her gaze, feeling a stab of pain go through him. He thought about their engagement party, the moment when he’d first kissed her and knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he loved her. “I’ll never lie to you,” he said.

“No.” Hera shook her head. “You can’t do this-- there are other ways.”

Resting his hands on her shoulders, Kanan just took her in for a moment. She was beautiful even in her anger, and incredibly strong, and he’d never stop wondering how he’d gotten so lucky. “We both know there’s not. Hera--”

“Don’t do this,” she said, her voice unsteady. “Don’t-- we need you, Kanan. I need you.”

“You’ll be fine without me,” Kanan said. “You’ve always been strong enough on your own.”

Stepping away from him, Hera shook her head. “That’s not the point, and you know it. Please, don’t--” she stopped, her voice breaking, and Kanan’s heart broke with it.

He moved forward and pulled her into his arms, and Hera went willingly, burying her face in his chest, her hands fisting in his shirt. “I can’t lose you,” she whispered, and Kanan felt her shudder.

“You won’t,” Kanan responded, stroking her back soothingly. “You’ll get me back. There’s no one else I’d trust to save me than this team. But I need you to stay strong for them, just for now.”

“It feels like I’ll break without you,” Hera choked out, a sob cracking her voice. “If you’re gone, everything’s going to fall apart.”

“It won’t. They have you, Ezra, and Ahsoka. Together, you’ll protect our family.” Kanan was silent for a moment, then said, “Please, Hera. I can’t do this if I don’t know that you’re safe.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t help, then,” Hera muttered. “To keep you safe.”

“We both know you’re not going to do that,” Kanan said. “This Rebellion has always been important to you, and you need to keep the beginnings of it safe. We both will be, just… in different places.”

Hera didn’t speak, simply clung to Kanan as she cried, and Kanan held her close, feeling tears prickle at his own eyes. But he couldn’t indulge them, not now.

Finally, Hera took a shaky breath. She pulled back, and Kanan was relieved to see determination and resolve glinting in her eyes. “I’ll keep them safe,” she told him. “And then I’m coming back for you.”

“I know,” Kanan said simply.

They made their way back into the Jedi residence, where the others were waiting. Depa was the first to see them, and her eyes narrowed as they approached. “What’s going on?” she demanded. “Ezra told us about the Inquisitor. What’s your plan?”

Kanan hesitated. This was the last news he wanted to bring them. He knew it was going to be hard on them, especially Ezra. But there was no getting away from it. “Everyone’s packing up and getting out of here,” he told them calmly. “We’re getting on the Ghost and heading for Alderaan. Hera’s ship can’t be tracked, so the Empire won’t know where you’re going. You’ll be able to slip out quickly and easily, as long as--”

“Wait, you?” Sabine broke in. “What do you mean? Aren’t you coming with us?”

Oh, Force. Kanan met Ezra’s eyes as he responded, forcing himself to maintain eye contact. “No. I’m not.”

Ezra’s eyes went wide, horror flashing through them. “No. Kanan, you can’t stay--”

“The Empire knows that it’s me they’re looking for,” Kanan said quietly. “I’m the only official Jedi here that has a blue lightsaber. Pryce will jump on this chance to get rid of one of us. If I cause enough of a ruckus when they come for me, it’ll cause the distraction you need to get out of here. And if I don’t go with you, the Empire won’t be so eager to follow.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Ezra protested, panic cracking his voice. “There’s no way I’m letting you go. Kanan, please--”

“Ezra,” Kanan cut in. “This is my choice. I need you with the others, to keep them safe.” Crossing the space between them, he rested a hand on Ezra’s shoulder. “I need you to do this for me.”

Jerking away, Ezra shook his head, angry tears glittering in his eyes. “NO. We can’t just leave you behind-- you can’t just give up!”

He started to back away, but Kanan caught hold of him, pulling him closer. Ezra started to struggle, but slumped against Kanan, weeping into his shirt. “Please don’t go. Please, Kanan.”

Taking a shaky breath, Kanan cleared his throat quickly. “I’m sorry, kid. I don’t want to leave you, trust me.”

“Then don’t,” Ezra whimpered. “You don’t have to leave us.”

Swallowing against the lump in his throat with difficulty, Kanan said, “What I have to do is keep you-- keep everyone safe.” Looking up at Mace, who stood nearby with an unreadable expression on his face, he added, “Sometimes, to protect the people you care about, you have to make sacrifices. This is one of those times.”

Mace’s expression softened slightly, and he nodded. “I’ll stay with you.”

“No,” Kanan said firmly. “You’ve suffered enough at the Empire’s hand, and I need you with everyone else. Besides, the Empire can’t get its hands on more Jedi.”

Reluctantly, Mace nodded as Ezra pulled away from Kanan. Looking at Kanan, he said, “We’re gonna get you back.”

“I expect you to,” Kanan responded, giving him a smile. “I’m proud of you, kid. Keep on fighting, and keep everyone safe for me.”

Looking at the others, he said, “I know you don’t like this. But it’s my choice, and it’s the best move to keep the Rebellion safe. So you need to go now.”

Ahsoka was the first one to move. Stepping forward, she put a hand on Kanan’s shoulder, her gaze compassionate. “May the Force be with you,” she said simply.

Kanan found himself smiling. “And with you,” he said.

Depa was next, and she gave him a soft smile. “I’m proud of you, apprentice,” she said softly. “If this is the path the Force has given you… I’ll admit, I’m hesitant to let you walk it. But I doubt this is the last time we’ll be together.”

“I agree,” Kanan said. “Keep the others safe.”

As Depa moved on, Sabine moved up to him, her expression tight. “I hate this,” she said, her voice flat.

“You’re not the only one,” Kanan admitted. “But this has to happen. Listen-- keep an eye on the others for me, okay? Look out for Ezra.”

Nodding, Sabine said, “Okay. Just-- we’re coming back for you, okay?”

“I’m counting on it,” Kanan said, giving her a grin.

His next goodbyes were to Grey, Styles and Stance, all of whom bid him good luck. Clasping Kanan’s shoulder, Grey said, “Take care of yourself, kid.”

“Take care of my master,” Kanan said, lifting an eyebrow. “And don’t call me kid.”

As Grey moved away from him to Depa’s side, Kanan faced Ezra. Squaring his shoulders, Ezra said, “I won’t say goodbye, because it’s not. We’re gonna come back for you. Just be careful, okay? Don’t make the Empire too mad.”

“Me? Never.” Kanan’s grin faded away, and he said, “I’m proud of you, Ezra.”

“Proud of you, too,” Ezra said, his voice wavering slightly. Taking a deep breath, he said, “May the Force be with you.”

Kanan felt tears in his eyes as he responded, his own voice miraculously steady. “And with you, apprentice.”

With that, Ezra headed onto the Ghost with the others, and Kanan only had two goodbyes left. Hera and Zeb were standing next to each other, and Kanan knew this was going to be hard. But he had to keep it together.

Stepping forward, he opened his mouth, but Zeb beat him to it. “I’m staying,” the Lasat said, his tone brooking no argument.

“What?” Kanan said. “Zeb, no. The only people the Empire hates more than Jedi--”

“Are aliens, especially the ones they’ve tried and failed to wipe out, yeah, I know,” Zeb said, waving a hand dismissively. “But they’ll be coming for you in force, and if you want a real distraction, you’ll need help. So I’m staying. Besides, I told Hera I’d keep an eye on you.”

“Oh, so you’re in on this?” Kanan said, lifting an eyebrow at Hera.

“Humor us, love,” Hera said, folding her arms. “This is hard enough as it is. I want someone with you to watch your back.”

Kanan sighed. “This-- you know what you’re about to walk into,” he told Zeb.

“Yep. So stop warning me about it and finish your goodbyes,” Zeb said. “I’m ready to knock together some Imperial heads.”

Somehow, Kanan felt a smile across his face, and he nodded. “Okay. Give me a minute, though.”

Zeb nodded, and moved just out of earshot, which Kanan appreciated. Turning to Hera, he just looked at her for a moment, drinking her in. “I’m going to miss you,” he said softly.

“Not as much as I’ll miss you.” Hesitating, Hera said, “What if this goes wrong? What if we can’t get back to you, or--”

“Hey.” Kanan moved closer to her, pulling her into a hug. “We’ll see each other again,” he said quietly. “I promise.”

“How can you be so sure?” Hera asked, her voice small.

“Well, there’s a certain question I haven’t actually asked you yet,” Kanan said, and felt Hera stiffen in surprise. “And there’s no way the Empire or Pryce or anyone else can keep me from getting back to you to ask it.”

Hera pulled back, gazing at his face. “I-- Kanan,” she whispered, her expression stunned.

“I won’t ask yet,” Kanan said, running a gentle thumb along her jawline. “But when you bring me home… no promises.” He paused, then added, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Hera said, and Kanan couldn’t resist bending down to steal one last kiss, his lips lingering on hers for only a moment.

But then he stepped back, and she was moving onto the Ghost, and then Hera Syndulla was gone. Kanan watched the ship start to rise in the air, then turned to Zeb. “Are you ready for this?”

“The real question is, is the Empire ready for this?” Zeb shot back, and Kanan couldn’t help but laugh.

He had no idea what would happen next. But he knew he’d have one of his best friends fighting with him, and the rest of his family was safe. Pulling the two pieces of his lightsaber from his belt, Kanan twisted them together. “Let’s go make a mess,” he said.

~ ~ ~

Six months later

Hera felt the Ghost humming underneath her as they made the jump to hyperspace, and she let out a sigh of relief.

It had been a long past six months. Shortly after Hera and the others had escaped from Lothal, thanks to Kanan’s sacrifice, it had been completely blockaded by the Empire, making it all but impossible to get in. They’d done anything they could to get news about Kanan and Zeb, although it had been scarce.

It had taken the Empire weeks to actually catch the two of them. They’d taken out the squad that came to arrest Kanan, and then gone on the run. But eventually, they’d been caught, and transported off of Lothal.

The last months had been long and hard, spent trying to find out where Kanan and Zeb had been taken, all the while working with the Rebellion. They’d found Zeb first-- the two of them had been separated. Zeb had been sent to a prison camp called Wobani. Once there, he’d promptly started a small rebellion with some of the prisoners, including a seventeen-year-old girl named Jyn, an ISB agent named Kallus, and a dark-haired man named Ferus Olin. Who happened to be a Jedi.

When Hera and the others had rescued Zeb and his new friends, they’d asked Ferus if he knew where Kanan might be held. The man’s face had gone dark as he said, “I can only think of one place-- Mustafar. But if your friend is on Mustafar, he’s as good as dead.”

“Not Kanan,” Ezra had told him. “He’s not going anywhere anytime soon. And if he does die, Hera and I will go to the afterlife to forcibly drag him back.”

Unfortunately, they soon discovered that Ferus’s theory had been right. Kanan had been imprisoned on Mustafar by the Inquisitors and the Emperor’s Hand.

So Hera had organized an assault on a stronghold full of Sith. And somehow, impossibly, they’d done it. They’d gotten in, and Ezra and the others had found Kanan and brought him home. And now, with the blue lights of hyperspace flickering through the front viewport, they’d escaped.

Getting up from her seat, Hera glanced at Chopper. “Keep an eye on things up here, Chop.”

Just go find him, Chopper said, and for once Hera didn’t stop to argue with her droid. Turning, she headed out of the cockpit and down towards the cargo bay, where the rescue team had entered the ship.

As she arrived on the balcony area above it, her gaze swept across those below her-- Grey and Depa, who were standing close together, holding hands. Mace, who was talking with Ferus, the scar across his eyes obvious in the light. Zeb, joking with Styles and Kallus, and nearby him Sabine and Ahsoka, standing with their arms crossed and their eyes fixed on the three men in the middle of the room.

Stance had been the team medic for a while now-- apparently he’d learned to take care of Kanan when he came back from one too many missions with injuries. Hence why he was currently arguing with Kanan as Ezra hovered near his master, clearly unwilling to let him get too far away.

“For kriff’s sake, Kanan, will you let me--”

“Not yet,” Kanan snapped, his voice vehement. “I need to talk to--”

“Kanan?” Hera said, and she wasn’t sure why her voice was so soft and shaken. Until Kanan looked up, and then she knew.

He looked terrible. Bruises darkened his skin, and blood stained his clothing here and there. It was clear he hadn’t bathed in a while, nor had he shaved-- his beard had grown considerably fuller and scruffier since she’d last seen him. His hair was long and loose-- but Hera wasn’t looking at any of that. Her gaze was fixed on the somewhat dirty bandage wrapped around his eyes.

She was down the ladder before she knew what was happening, and Kanan moved forward to meet her, his steps uncertain as Ezra gently pushed him in the right direction. His voice, on the other hand, was anything but, as he whispered, “Hera. You’re here.”

“I’m here,” Hera said, gently reaching up and touching his cheek. Kanan leaned into the touch, a half-smile twitching across his face.

“I know. The Empire could never trick me with you. I always knew when it was a fake.” He caught hold of her hand, lacing his fingers through hers, and pressed a kiss against the back. “I’d know your voice anywhere.”

Hera felt tears prickling in her eyes. Keeping her voice steady, she asked, “What happened, love?”

“The Empire likes to make people vulnerable,” Kanan said matter of factly. “So they did that in the best ways they could think of. When none of them worked, they decided to try this.” A somewhat bitter smile twitched across his face. “So I guess I was wrong when I said I’d see you again.”

“You could always see me,” Hera told him, and pulled him into a hug. Kanan wrapped his arms around her, and Hera felt him take in a quick, shuddering breath. “I’m so glad you’re home,” she whispered.

“Me, too,” Kanan said, his voice shaking slightly.

He sounded fragile, off center, hurt, and Hera’s heart ached for him. For what he’d gone through. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to you sooner, love,” she murmured.

Moving hesitantly, Kanan lifted a hand to her face, and bent to press a kiss against her forehead. “It’s okay. I knew you would come, and you did. And I’m back with you again. That’s the important thing.”

Hera knew that wasn’t all, and she knew Kanan was still hurting, from both physical and mental wounds. But that could wait until another day. For now, what he needed was to rest and heal, with his family around him.

“Welcome home, Kanan,” she said.

A soft smile curled Kanan’s mouth. “Glad to be here, Captain Hera.”

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fangirlyah · 4 years

Text

✦ to be so lonely - Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader

one shot inspired by the harry styles’s song ‘to be so lonely’

summary: draco makes bad decisions that alienate what he loves the most

warnings: it’s pure angst so yeah

word count: 2,640

Don't blame me for fallin'

I was just a little boy

it was a freezing winter night when draco realized that he was in love with y/n. it was extremely cold when he saw her go through the door of the manor with her reddish nose and an elegant coat covering her green dress. her parents in front of her receiving his parents with a handshake. they already knew what was going next, but neither draco nor y/n were involved yet, they only accompanied their parents in the meetings; they were almost always left outside the room, together in the kitchen having a cup of hot tea and sharing chats that kept draco awake that night and maybe the next.

Don't blame the drunk caller

Wasn't ready for it all

it was an autumn tinged with warm tones, when y/n realized that she was in love with draco. she saw him pick up a book from the library while she accommodated the ones she had recently used and felt her heart jump. they knew little of what lay ahead, only accompanying their parents as it would be dangerous to be left alone at home and unable to use magical protection because of their age. so y/n visited malfoy manor or draco visited the y/l mansion very often. when it was the blond’s turn to leave his home, they always went up to the roof to look at the stars that left her stunned.

You can't blame me, darling

Not even a little bit

I was away

And I'm just an arrogant son of a bitch

Who can't admit when he's sorry

everyone knew of their friendship but no one dared to ask how it had begun. they knew the answer would be something like: ‘our parents are death eaters, what did you expect? ', so they just kept their doubt behind their backs and watched their movements together. which were not many, but enough to bring to light their friendship.

Don't call me "baby" again

You got your reasons

was the week after that icy night, when draco put his head on y/n’s lap as they read in the private library of her mansion and said,

"I think I’m in love with you" amidst the entrancing silence, in which only the passing of the leaves and their breaths were the only noises. after three years of friendship, draco was confessing his feelings that, a week ago, had really been recognized by the youngest malfoy. at that very moment y/n leaned her lips gently on those of draco who was looking at her from her lap. silently sealing a promise that would not last long, but that she believed it would.

I know you mean it

But don't call me "baby" again

their first kiss was seven weeks before september first, seven weeks spent between kisses and hugs in the library, the kitchen and some other room.

seven weeks filled with cups of tea and stargazing.

seven weeks in which draco’s hands did not seem to leave those of y/n; not even when they ate around the other minions of who-must-not-be-named, which was when he intertwined their hands under the table.

seven weeks, which both enjoyed each other’s presence deeply and did not pass a day when they did not remember each other how much they enjoyed the other's company.

It's hard for me to go home

Be so lonely

but it was a week before september first when draco, was personally requested by the dark lord to entrust him with what would be a life-or-death task, which they did not believe to y/n able to perform.

and they were right, she couldn’t murder someone even though the dark mark had been impregnated in her arm since she was twelve; unlike draco that got his that week before school. he didn’t say anything. not even when his girlfriend approached to kiss him goodbye and meet again on platform 9 ¾ just a few hours before the return to hogwarts.

draco was terrified, more terrified than he had ever been in his life, but he said nothing.

that night apart was the first in a long time, a night that for the lack of company and what was ahead for them, he did not rest a minute. his head hovering in the fact that the ray of light, also called y/n, was almost involved in such a situation. he did not know that she had been involved for much longer than that vacation and that the mark had been placed on y/n’s arm, by that time, she was still an infant. y/n had lied, she said that she had obtained it just a few months ago.

"but it doesn’t hurt?, I heard that the first few months are fatal" her boyfriend stared at her, moving his eyes between hers and her arm. y/n wanted to say yes, that her first few months were horrible but she didn’t want to frighten him and tell him that a 12-year-old girl used to scream out of pain every night when she went to sleep. she was afraid he’d walk away, judge her.

"I put on a lot of moisturizer to keep it from burning, so it doesn’t hurt so much" she wasn’t lying, but those lotions had long expired after she had used them. he gently kissed her arm wishing with all his might that, when he opened his eyes, the dark mark would have disappeared from y/n’s arm.

I just hope you see me

In a little better light

it was only a few hours before their re-admission to hogwarts when he refused the kiss that y/n went to give him when she saw him standing at the train station, alone with his suitcase.

she thought he was waiting for her but he wasn’t.

their reunion had been idealized in y/n’s head that night, in which draco had not been able to sleep, but she had. she had managed to fall in a deep sleep, being draco the last thing her brain thought consciously. she imagined that their reunion would be like those muggle romantic books she read hidden in the library of her house. something romantic and happy that people around would see as a movie scene.

but it was not so, he did not look her in the eyes. not even when they were already inside the train and y/n took a seat beside him in some padded seats.

not even when he mentioned that he would stay a few more minutes on the train, giving permission to her, blaise and pansy to get off without him.

not even when y/n looked at him indignantly when she saw potter come into the great hall with a bloody nose, knowing exactly what he had done.

not even when she said good night with a kiss on his cheek before she left for her bedroom.

he looked at her for the first time when, surrounded by his minions. draco was having lunch without paying attention to the people around him. y/n had returned from the care of magical creatures class, when she saw him almost without expression, putting a piece of bread in his mouth.

"hi, baby" y/n spoke softly as she sat in front of the mysterious blond. the word 'baby' caught the attention of his friends who shut up with the intention of meddling in the conversation.

"don’t call me that" her boyfriend spoke looking into her eyes. his eyes full of cold, transmitting seriousness and stress; very different from those she had enjoyed throughout the older days.

"draco, what's going on?" crabbe, goyle, zabini and millicent watched the situation on their sides. y/n thanked merlin internally, that pansy was not in the situation because otherwise her mockery would be endless.

"why the fuck do you care?" his hands trembled slightly on the table, but these immediately became fists when he saw the look of y/n on them.

"why the fuck do I care? draco, you’re my boyfriend, of course I care" suddenly the laughter began to flood the, formerly silent, table. including draco who laughed out loud. a laughter that caused y/n’s body to begin to feel more and more weak.

"your boyfriend?!" replied the blonde keeping his arrogant smile "you’re crazy, really. what do they feed you at home? poison?"

he knew perfectly well how he was hurting her.

he knew perfectly well how he was crushing her heart into thousands of pieces.

he knew she had always had a bad time in her own home, and yet it was the first thing he came up with to bother her.

when he finished his second sentence, even millicent’s laughter bounced into y/n’s ears, she was supposed to be her friend.

why endure more humiliation? y/n decided to leave the great hall as fast as she could and run to the bathroom where everyone would go to cry. it wasn’t the first time myrtle saw her come in with tears in her eyes, and she already knew how the girl didn't like to be invaded with questions as soon as she arrived, so the ghost held back.

Do you think it's easy

her knees were covering her chin as her eyes kept shedding tears and her mouth noisy sobs. everything had been a farce that she had swallowed as if it were a sip of warm milk.

he had used her completely so he wouldn’t be alone on those scary holidays.

sitting on the floor of the damp bath her thoughts wandered in the beautiful memories she believed had been real and sentimental to both of them.

she was not wrong. draco had to leave the great hall within minutes of her departure because his body was about to collapse, he felt that the panic attack he had not yet had that day, was about to blossom. so he ran straight into the prefects' bathroom, without avoiding shedding a few tears as he hurried over there.

the only person who had never left his side was now heartbroken because of him. he had a reputation to maintain and a girl to keep safe, so pretending to hate her was the best option.

but his regret came faster than he thought. he never would have thought it would hurt so much to see her after that noon, where, indirectly, it was all over.

his body trembled every time he saw her sitting alone on the other end of the table. he had caused her to be left completely alone; she had devoted her entire attention and friendship so many years to him, that she had never developed such a deep friendship with anyone else, so she was now alone.

Being of the jealous kind?

'Cause I miss the shape of your lips

she remained alone until the day draco saw her enter the great hall accompanied.

it had been a month since those hateful words had come out of his mouth and he was getting worse, thinner and sadder every day. not only was he sad because he had to kill dumbledore in less than a month and a half, but he missed her. he missed her so much that, especially during the night, that nostalgia became present as physical pain that twisted him in his bed.

the night he saw her walk with neville by her side, smiling like she used to do with him, he definitely didn’t sleep. it was an image that would not be removed from his head; to see her eat with a little of her characteristic light back. he wept inconsolably at the fact that he had stolen and shattered that joy and it was someone else who was giving it back to her.

that night, thoughts consumed him like a lit candle. he was wondering if all that stuff he missed about her, now she was sharing them with someone else. He wondered if longbottom now owned her lips and her soft morning voice, if she kissed his cheek as he came out of the shower as she did with him, or if she had already learned how many spoonfuls of sugar he drank with his tea, as she had done with him.

Your wit

It's just a trick

thanks to luna and neville, y/n had come out of her misery faster than she thought.

but it still hurt; because everything made her remember, even the starry nights hurt her internally to the point of crying for hours.

that’s why she avoided him as much as possible, she had begun to sit at the ravenclaw or gryffindor’s table since she had no one to sit with at her own house table.

"he’s looking this way," neville whispered, beside her as he ate "it’s scary"

"I don’t want to be here neville, can you eat a little faster please?"

in the months that passed, draco had not even tried to approach her. he was not brave enough. so when the day he was supposed to kill the headmaster came, y/n couldn’t get near the astronomy tower. she could not be near when such an atrocity was to be carried out. for what she waited uneasy at the entrance to the castle, she was betraying her recent friends and the entire institution, but she had a choice.

when bellatrix’s arrogant laughter began to approach, y/n knew that it was the time when they had to escaped from hogwarts without an early return date.

when draco arrived at the place where she was standing, his only desire was to take her in his arms as he used to and run away with her where no one could find them. he saw her weak and worried and he just wanted to kiss the wrinkles on her forehead and make them disappear. he wanted to tell her that he couldn’t kill dumbledore, because her face had gotten in his brain; the memory of her by his side and how her presence used to make everything disappear.

but before he could get close, all the death eaters started dragging them out of the castle. in spite of potter’s screams that chased them, they continued to run into the forbidden forest, together.

it would be a lie to say that when they entered the malfoy manor their fears calmed down, because the terror did not leave them alone even for two seconds. their bodies and minds were still in complete shock. their parents sent them to clean themselves as soon as they saw the two teens arrive, so y/n started to go to the guest bathroom that was almost hers, but her ex-boyfriend’s body stopped her in front of the door.

"y/n all I ask is that you listen to me" his voice was pleading and he dragged his syllables, almost as if he had been torn from a good dream and he would not fall asleep again.

"I’m sorry but...no" she tried to pass, because tears threatened to leave her eyes, but draco’s body did not leave her.

"nothing was true!"

"of course nothing was true! you lied to my face for months, made me believe you loved me!" the tears that had accumulated in her eyes now ran down her face without stopping, and to her surprise draco’s face was even more submerged in tears. "for years, draco, years. I gave you everything! my friendship and then my deep and devoted love! I gave you everything and you left me alone, without even explaining!"

she was right, he had lost her because of his idiotic decisions that, in the end, made no sense. his body had weakened so much that y/n was able to move his body out of the front of the door to get into the room as fast as she could.

And this is it, so I'm sorry

#draco malfoy #draco x y/n #draco x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fanfiction #imagine #one shots #harry potter #harry styles #to be so lonely #fanfic #fanfiction #hogwarts #death eaters #voldemort #dark mark

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rigmarolling · 4 years

Text

Historical Holiday Traditions We Really Need To Bring Back

Here comes Santa Claus, and also a bunch of annual holiday Things we do to ensure he commits a truly boggling act of breaking and entering and leaves goods underneath the large plant in the living room.

Because I’ve always got a hankerin’ for the days of yore, here are some historical holiday traditions we really need to bring back:

1. Everything that happened on Saturnalia

Saturnalia was the ancient Roman winter festival held on December 25th--which is why we celebrate Christmas on that day and not on the day historians speculate Jesus was actually born, which was probably in the spring.

Saturnalia was bonkers. As the name suggests, it celebrated the god Saturn, who represented wealth and liberty and generally having a great time.

Above: Their party is way cooler than yours could ever hope to be.

During Saturnalia, masters would serve their slaves, because it was the one day during the year when everybody agreed that freedom for all is great, actually, let’s just do that. Everyone wore a coned hat called the pilleus to denote that they were all bros and equal, and also to disguise the fact that they hadn’t brushed their hair after partying hard all week, probably.

Gambling was allowed on Saturnalia, so all of Rome basically turned into ancient Vegas, complete with Caesar’s Palace, except with the actual Caesar and his palace because he was, you know. Alive.

The most famous part (besides getting drunk off your rocker) was gift-giving--usually gag gifts. Historians have records of people giving each other some truly impressive white elephant gifts for Saturnalia, including: a parrot, balls, toothpicks, a pig, one single sausage, spoons, and deliberately awful books of poetry.

Above: Me, except all the time.

Partygoers also crowned a King of Saturnalia, which was a predecessor to the King of Fools popular in medieval festivals. The king was basically the head idiot who delivered absurd commands to everyone there, like, “Sing naked!” or “run around screaming for an hour,” or “slap your butt cheeks real hard in front of your crush; DO IT, Brutus.”

Oh, wait. Everyone was already doing all that. Hell yes.

(Quick clarification: early celebrations of Saturnalia did feature human sacrifice, so let’s just leave that bit out and instead wear the pointy hats and sing naked, okay? Io Saturnalia, everybody.)

2. Leaving out treats for Sleipnir in the hopes of avoiding Odin’s complete disregard for your property

The whole “leave out cookies and milk for Santa” thing comes from a much older tradition of trying to appease old guys with white beards. In Norse mythology, Odin, who was sort of the head god but preferred to be on a perpetual road trip instead, took an annual nighttime ride through the winter sky called the Wild Hunt.

Above: The holidays, now with 300% more heavy metal.

Variations of the Wild Hunt story exist in a bunch of European folklore--in Odin’s case, he usually brought along a bunch of supernatural buddies, like spirits and other gods and Valkyries and ghost dogs, who, the Vikings said, you could hear howling and barking as the group approached (GOOD DOGGOS).

That was the thing, though; you never actually saw Odin’s hunt--you only heard it. And hearing it did not spark the same sense of childish glee you felt when you thought you heard Santa’s sleigh bells approaching as a kid--instead, the Vikings said, you should be afraid. Be VERY afraid.

Because Odin could be kind of a dick.

Odin was also known as the Allfather, and like any father, he hated asking for directions. GPS who? I’m the Allfather, I’m riding the same way I always ride.

And that was pretty much it: “I took this road last year and I’m taking it again this year.”

“But,” someone would pipe up from the back, “there are houses on the road now--we’re gonna run right into them. We could just take a different path; there’s actually a detour off the--”

“Nope,” Odin would say. “They know the rules. My road, my hunt, my rules. We’re going this way.”

So if you were unlucky enough to have built your house along one of Odin’s favorite road trip sky-ways, he wouldn’t just plow right past you.

He would burn your entire house down--and your family along with it.

Kids playing in the yard? Torch ‘em; they should have known better. Grandma knitting while she waits for her gingerbread Einherjar to finish baking? Sucks to be her; my road, my rules, my beard, I’m the Allfather, bitch.

Above: Santa, but so much worse.

To be fair to Odin, he could be a cool guy sometimes. He just turned into any dad when he was on a road trip and wanted to MAKE GOOD TIME, DAMN IT, I AM NOT STOPPING; YOU SHOULD HAVE PEED BEFORE WE LEFT.

To ensure they didn’t incur Odin’s road trip wrath, the Vikings had a few ways of smoothing things over with Dad.

They would leave Odin offerings on the road, like pieces of steel (??? okay ???) or bread for his dogs, or food for his giant, eight-legged horse, Sleipnir, because the only true way to a man’s heart is through his pet.

People would generally leave veggies and oats and other horse-y things out for Sleipnir, whose eight legs made him the fastest flying horse in the world and also made him the only horse to ever win Asgard’s coveted tap dancing championship.

(Side note: EIGHT legs...EIGHT tiny reindeer...eh? Eh? See how we got here? Thanks, nightmare horse!)

Above: An excellent prancer AND dancer.

And if Odin was feeling particularly charitable and not in the mood for horrific acts of arson, children would also leave their shoes out for him--it was said that he’d put gifts in your boots to ring in a happy new year.

If all that didn’t work and the Vikings heard the hunt approaching, they would resort to throwing themselves on the ground and covering their heads while the massive party sped above them like a giant Halloween rager.

So this holiday season, leave your boots out for Odin and some carrots out for his giant spider horse or you and your entire family will die in a fiery inferno, the end.

3. Yule Logs

Speaking of Scandinavia, another Northern European winter solstice tradition was the yule log. Today, if you google “yule log,” something like this will pop up:

...which isn’t an actual log, but is instead log-shaped food that you shove into your mouth along with 500 other cakes at the same time because it’s CHRISTMAS, and I’m having ME TIME; so WHAT if I ate the whole jar of Nutella by myself, alone, in the dark at 3 am?

But that log cake is actually inspired by actual logs of yore that Celtic, Germanic, and Scandinavian peoples decorated with fragrant plants like holly, ivy, pinecones, and other Stuff That Smells Nice before tossing the log into the fire.

This served a few purposes:

It smelled nice, and Bath and Body Works scented candles hadn’t been invented yet.

It had religious and/or spiritual significance as a way to mark the winter solstice.

It was a symbolic way of ringing in the new year and kicking out the old.

Common belief held that the ashes of a yule log could ward off lightning strikes and bad energy.

Winter cold. Fire warm.

Everybody loves to watch things burn. (See: Odin.)

The yule log cakes we eat today got their start in 19th century Paris, when bakers thought it was a cute idea to resurrect an ancient pagan tradition in the form of a delicious dessert, and boy, howdy, were they right.

In any case, I’m 100% down with eating a chocolate yule log while burning an actual yule log in my backyard because everybody loves to watch things burn; winter cold, fire warm; and hnnnngggg pine tree smell hnnnnggg.

(Quick note: The word “yule” is the name of a traditional pagan winter festival, still celebrated culturally or religiously in modern pagan practice. It’s also another name for Odin. He had a bunch of other names, one of the most well-known being jólfaðr, which is Old Norse for “Yule father.” If you would like to royally piss him off, or if you are Loki, feel free to call him “Yule Daddy.”)

4. Upside down Christmas trees

I just found out that apparently, upside down Christmas trees are a hot new trend with HGTV types this year, so I guess this is one historical trend we did bring back, meaning it doesn’t really belong on this list, but I’m gonna talk about it, anyway.

Side note: Oh, my god, that BANNISTER. I NEED.

Historians aren’t actually sure where the inverted Christmas tree thing came from, but we know people were bringing home trees and then hanging them upside down in the living room as early as the 7th century. We have a couple theories as to why people turned trees on their heads:

Logistically, it’s way easier to hang a giant pine tree from your rafters upside down by its trunk and roots. You just hoist that baby up there, wind some rope around the rafter and the trunk, and boom. Start decorating.

A Christian tradition says that one day in the 7th century, a Benedictine monk named Saint Boniface stumbled across a group of pagans worshipping an oak tree. So, instead of minding his own damn business, he cut the tree down and replaced it with a fir tree. While the pagans were like, “Dude, what the hell?” Boniface used the triangular shape of the fir tree to explain the concept of the holy trinity to the pagans. Some versions have him planting it right-side up, others having him displaying a fir tree upside down. Either way, it’s still a triangle that’s a solid but ultimately very rude way of explaining God. Word’s still out on whether anyone was converted or just rightly pissed off that this random guy strolled into their place of worship, chopped down their sacred tree, and plopped HIS tree down instead. Please do not do that this holiday season.

Eastern Europeans lay claim to the upside-down tree phenomenon with a tradition called podłazniczek in Poland--people hung the tree from the ceiling and decorated it with fruits and nuts and seeds and ribbons and other festive doodads.

(God, who lives in these houses? Look at that. That’s like a swanky version of Gaston’s hunting lodge. Where do I get one? Which enchanted castle do I have to stumble into to chill out in a Christmas living room like that?)

Today, at least in the West, upside-down trees are making a comeback because...I don’t know. Chip and Joanna Gaines said so.

Some folks say it’s a surefire way to keep your cats from clawing their way through the tree and then puking up fir needles for weeks afterward, which checks out for me.

5. Incredibly weird Victorian Christmas cards

So back in the 19th century, the Christmas card industry was really getting fired up. Victorians loved their mail, let me tell you. They loved sending it. They loved getting it. They loved writing it. They loved opening it. They loved those sexy wax seals you use to keep all that sweet, sweet mail inside that sizzling envelope. (Those things are incredibly sexy. Have you ever made a wax seal? Oh, man, it’s hot.)

The problem, though, was that while the Victorians arguably helped standardize many of the holiday traditions we know and love today (Christmas trees, caroling, Dickens everything, spending too much money, etc.) back in 1800-whenever, a lot of that Christmas symbolism was, um...still under construction. No one had really agreed on which visual holiday cues worked and which...didn’t.

Meaning everyone just kind of made up their own holiday symbols. Which resulted in monstrous aberrations like this card:

What the hell is that? A beet? Is that a beet? Or a turnip? Why is it...oh, God, why does it have a man’s head? Why does the man beet have insect claws?

What is it that he’s holding? A cookie? Cardboard? A terra cotta planter?

And then there’s this one:

“A Merry Christmas to you,” it says, while depicting a brutal frog murder/mugging.

What are you trying to tell me? Are you threatening me with this card? Is that it? Is this a threat? How the hell am I supposed to interpret this? “Merry Christmas, hide your money or you’re dead, you stupid bitch.”

Also, why is the dead frog naked? Did the other frog steal his clothes after the murder? WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THIS?

Victorian holiday cards also doubled as early absurdist Internet memes, apparently, because how else do I explain this?

Is this some sort of tiny animal Santa? A mouse riding a lobster? Like, the mouse, I get. Mice are fine. Disney built an empire on a mouse. And look, he’s got a little list of things he’s presumably going to bring you: Peace, joy, health, happiness. (In French. Oh, wait, is that that Patton Oswalt rat?)

But a LOBSTER? What’s with the lobster? It’s basically a sea scorpion. Why in the name of all that is good and holy would you saddle up a LOBSTER? I hate it. I hate it so, so much. Just scurrying around the floor with more legs than are strictly necessary, smelling like the seafood section of Smith’s, snapping its giant claws.

This whole card is a health inspector’s worst nightmare. It really is.

I gotta say, though, I am a fan of this one:

Presumably, that polar bear is going in for a hug because nothing stamps out a polar bear’s innate desire to rip your face from your skull than candy canes and Coke and Christmas spirit.

This next one is actually fantastic, but for all the wrong reasons:

I know everyone overuses “same” these days but geez, LOOK at that kid. I can HEAR it. SAME.

If you’ve ever been in a shopping mall stuffed with kids, nothing sums it up better than this card. This is like the perverse version of those Anne Geddes portraits that were everywhere in the late 90s. “Make wee Jacob sit in the tea pot; everyone will--Jacob, STOP, look at Mommy; I said LOOK. AT. MOMMY--everyone will love it.”

Actually, you know what? Every other Christmas card is cancelled. This is the only card we will be using from now on. This is it.

Wait, no. We can also use this one:

Merry Christmas. Here’s a fuckin’...just a dead fuckin’ bird.

#victorian #listory #christmas #holidays #mythtory #norse mythology #odin

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songsformonkeys · 4 years

Text

Ghost of You (dave york x reader)

summary: When Dave comes home from the hospital, he doesn’t remember who you are.

word count: ~1700

rating: This is pretty safe.

warnings: Angst and amnesia. So if that’s not your thing then you won’t like this story.

notes: I’d recommend reading my other Dave story Pancakes before reading this one. Otherwise some things might make less sense. Unbeta’d so any mistakes are my own.

Ghost of You

When you bring Dave home from the hospital, he still doesn't remember who you are. He's been at the hospital for months while his physical injuries healed, and now that they say he's more or less restored, they can no longer justify keeping him there. They need the room for other patients.

Except, contrary to what the doctors say, Dave is not restored. The most important part of Dave, the part that makes him Dave, is still broken.

”It's a miracle that he even survived,” the doctors tell you. An even greater miracle that he has actually recovered as much as he has. There was no way to save his left eye, and he still walks with a limp, but other than that and a long and jagged scar on the back of his neck, he's able to walk and move around. Considering the list of injuries that Dave'd had when he was taken to the ICU, you suppose that this kind of physical recovery is somewhat of a miracle.

No one knows exactly what happened to him before he was fished out of the water by the coastguards on that stormy day. And the only person who could tell you is Dave. And Dave doesn't remember. Dave doesn't even recognize his own face in the mirror anymore.

You have demanded answers from the doctors, but they have none to give.

”It's impossible to tell at this point,” they've told you, over and over again, ”Your husband has suffered significant trauma to his brain. Right now, there's no telling how much of his memory he'll be able to recover.”

You continue to ask them, every time you bring Dave over for his doctor's appointments, but the answer is always the same. No one knows.

”It's a miracle,” they keep telling you, but sometimes... sometimes it feels more like a curse. To have your husband back, except it's not actually him. It's a stranger in his body and every time you see him, you're reminded of all the parts that are missing. It's like living with a ghost.

When you'd married, you had promised to be by his side in sickness and in health, but sometimes it feels like it's killing you to stay. You've thought about arranging for him to stay somewhere else and hate yourself for even considering it. You had always pictured that your relationship would be sturdy enough to handle anything, and it feels like you're betraying Dave by not being strong enough to handle this. Sometimes you try and justify your thoughts by thinking that maybe Dave would be happier somewhere else? These living arrangements have got to be tough for him too.

Then you remember the scared look on Dave's face when the doctors had told him that he had to leave, the way his remaining eye had immediately turned to look at you and the way his shoulders had relaxed when you asked if you could take him home, and you realize that you will never be able to turn him away. Dave trusted you, even if he had no memory of who you were. Just two matching gold rings signaling that you belonged.

You catch him looking at those rings sometimes, both the one on his own finger and the one on yours, as if they hold the answers to all the world’s questions. You have no idea what he’s thinking. Dave was always a difficult man to read, but now it is downright impossible.

You catch yourself staring at your ring too sometimes. Is it still a marriage when one of the parts aren’t there anymore? Are you a widow? It feels wrong to even think that word when Dave is sitting on the living room couch downstairs, even if you’re not really sure it’s still Dave.

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

Dave is polite and quiet to live with. He watches the news a lot, trying to make sense of the world. He has a small notebook where he writes things down. You have no idea what he writes in it, but you know he brings it to his therapist at the hospital. Dave can remember facts and numbers even if he can't remember the faces of his daughters. You catch him standing in Alice's room one day, in front of a map you had helped her make, quizzing himself on the names of the different states. He looks embarrassed when he notices you, but you assure him that it's fine.

The girls are staying with your parents. You go to see them as often as you can. It's not the escape you had hoped it would be. You have told Molly and Alice that their dad is sick, which is why you need to take care of him and they need to stay with grandma and grandpa. They understand this but they still tell you how much they miss him, and every time you come over they ask when they can come home. You feel like you're being torn in two. When Alice hands you a card with a big wonky heart on it that says, ”Please get better, Daddy! We miss you!” you barely manage to hold it together until you get downstairs and find your dad in the garage. Then you cry in his arms like you are a little girl again.

Sometimes you think you can see a spark of the old Dave. Like when they show one of his favorite movies on TV and you can tell how much he loves it, or when he accidentally grabs your cup of morning coffee and the coffee with milk makes him scrunch up his face like it's the foulest thing he's ever tasted. It’s the exact same face he's made so many times over the years you've been together, when mugs have gotten mixed up on previous mornings.

Other times, he's a complete stranger. Like the way he suddenly really appreciates purple, despite always having claimed that it's an overly flashy color, or the way you sometimes hear him sing in the shower, something he wouldn't have been caught dead doing in the past. You and the girls have tried to get him to sing so many times before and he’s refused. Now he’s singing and it feels like a knife to the heart because it’s like the hope of getting your Dave back drifts further away with each note that carries through the bathroom door.

You sleep alone in the big bed and Dave sleeps in the guestroom. Every night, you hug his pillow close and long desperately for the nights when you could hold him in your arms. Your sheets have stopped smelling like him and when you help change Dave's sheets in the guestroom you sometimes find yourself in the laundry room afterwards, with your nose buried deep in his sheets and tears streaming down your cheeks. The fabric muffles the sound of your ragged breathing.

You try and keep it all together when Dave is close by. He doesn't deserve the burden of your tears. It's not his fault and you don't want him to feel like you blame him for this situation. So you save your crying for when he's not around. When he's at the hospital, when you're in the shower, or during the night when you can hide your face in the pillow. You don't want him to see your pain.

Then, one evening, he comes home from a run and catches you having a breakdown in the kitchen. You're in your pajamas, sitting on the floor behind the kitchen counter, with your face buried in your arms and a picture of all four members of your family clutched tightly in your hand. You're crying so hard that you're shaking.

It's the first time he touches you since he came back. Sitting down next to you, he wraps you up in a careful hug and you instantly melt against him. Part of you know that you should pull yourself together, but you can't. It hurts too much.

”Dave,” you sob, dropping the picture of your smiling family, and gripping the fabric on his shirt in your fists.

Dave doesn't say anything. He knows that it's not really him your hugging and that speaking would shatter the fragile illusion that he’s another version of himself. Instead, he just rubs slow circles on your back while you cry and stain his shoulder with your tears.

You have no idea how long you sit there. Your tears have long since run dry and it's fully dark outside when you eventually pull back. You feel weak as a baby bird and your eyes are red and puffy. Dave looks tired too.

”Come,” he says and helps you stand. He guides you upstairs and into the bedroom where he tucks you into bed. It’s on his old side of the bed and you try not to read too much into it.

The light from the streetlamp outside illuminates his face just enough in the dark room. He’s still so incredibly beautiful.

”Stay,” you beg him, voice weak and hopeful. He reaches for your hand but stops just before your fingers can touch.

”I can't,” he whispers and you hear the way his voice breaks at the words.

He leaves the room and takes another piece of your shattered heart with him. Dave would have stayed.

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

The next morning, you can't bring yourself to even get out of bed. You hear Dave move around downstairs but you can't go down and talk to him. Not when it's not him. You pick up your phone to check the time. 10 am. Not terribly late for a Sunday, even if it's late for you. You think you can probably get away with hiding up here for a little longer before you have to go downstairs and face him.

But then you smell it. At first you think you're imagining it but no, it's definitely there. It's the smell of apologies and ”I love you”s. It's the smell of pancakes.

Taglist: @yespolkadotkitty @agirllovespasta @beccaplaying @pascalitoyork @ohpedromypedro @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @knittingqueen13 @winters-buck @abuttoncalledsmalls @keeper0fthestars @ahopelessromanticwritersworld (I took the liberty of adding some people I thought might want to read this)

#dave york #dave york x reader #dave york/reader #equalizer 2 fanfiction #ghost of you #my fanfiction

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