had this thought
today as i stood in the sun, breaking branches
between my fists, praying to god
the splinters would get into
my skin so i could feel something.
had this thought
that maybe i can be good at this
pretending i am a person
pretending time doesn’t terrify me
pretending this body is a
good body & it does not need
to be filled by anything
pretending i belong pretending
my fucking heart out
when you think of me
is it like–girl, who hurled you
into existence or girl, who loved
me because she thought
i might love her back or girl, who’s probably
screaming about violence
somewhere in her sleep.
or is it girl, broken winged
an incandescent list of hurts
& rare tendernesses
that’s crazy isn’t it
how i was crazy
the whole time
and a part of me knew it
always and the weaker parts
didn’t but all of me
died in the end anyhow. sometimes
i remember the girl before &
i hate her for all she
couldn’t do & sometimes
i love her like she wasn’t me but mostly
i cry cause she was just a kid
and didn’t deserve this. yeah, fuck you, god.
you know i didn’t deserve it.
I know that your probably really busy and I'm sorry for being an annoyance but I really love ur blog and your fics. Also if it's not too much of a bother could you write a fic where Alice kicks lily Marlene and someone else out of the dormitory early in the morning to get ready for her date with frank and so the girls are left outside of the dormitory in just their pjs and of course lily is wearing an oversized t shirt and knickers and the marauders see them. Written in james pov bc he is a dork
NO STOP YOU’RE NOT AN ANNOYANCE. I hope this is reasonable oops.
Alice sat at the mirror, straight-backed. Rubbing her ruby lips together for the thousandth time, she tried out a nervous smile. Dorcas stood behind her, deftly pinning her curls into place. She held out her hand silently as Alice obediently passed another clip. Mary was sprawled on her bed, her pale face reddening as she tipped her upper body upside-down off the edge. Lily and Marlene sat cross-legged on either side of an impressive collection of sugar quills.
“Hagrid’s not the only giant at school, if you know what I mean.”
Lily nodded grudgingly, and Marlene smirked as she picked a purple one out of the pile.
“Can I have one?” Mary’s voice inquired from the other side of the bed.
“Earn it,” Marlene said with a loud smack on hers.
“Where’d you get them from, anyway?”
“Nicked it from Sirius.” Marlene shrugged.
Lily thought for a bit. “Wanna make some magic together, Alice? My wand is at the ready.”
Marlene snorted, tossing Lily a red sugar quill. Alice glared at her through the reflection in the mirror.
Mary sat up and cleared her throat. “Been using the Petrificus on me? Because you’re making me stiff.”
Alice gagged. Lily laughed. “Awful. Try again.”
“Fine. I’ve been Whomping my Willow thinking about you.”
Marlene looked at Lily, who shrugged. “Bearable.”
Mary gave Lily a shove before bursting into laughter. She sifted through the lot, settling on a green one.
Lily deepened her voice. “I must have had some Felix Felicis, because I think I’m about to get lucky.”
“That’s it.” Alice stood up abruptly. “That’s it. OUT.”
Dorcas had collapsed with laughter, gripping the back of the chair with white knuckles. Lily grinned, helping herself to three. Marlene rolled her eyes, a smirk on her face.
Alice crossed her arms. “Out.” She looked down. “You too, Doe.”
“I’m doing your hair!” She protested, pulling herself off the floor.
“You just said you finished. I can do my makeup myself.”
Mary swiped at her eye with the back of her hand, unable to contain another snort from escaping her. “We’re just trying to make you feel better…”
With surprising force, Alice grabbed the four girls, hurling them out of the room.
“…about how Frank’s gonna SLYTHERIN TONIGHT!”
The door slammed in their faces, but not before Lily caught Alice’s escaped laughter as she turned away. She turned to Mary, handing her a quill. “You earned it.”
James recognized the high peal of laughter before it even properly registered in his mind. Lily. He’d know her anywhere.
Hearing her, a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
“Now what?” He heard another voice ask. Marlene? Dorcas, maybe?
“She’ll be done soon enough. God, I’m freezing.” Lily.
Ducking through the open entry, the Marauders encountered a group of four girls by the stone staircase that lead up to the girls’ dorms. Dorcas sat high on the stairs, rolling her eyes. A few steps down sat Mary, bright red with laughter. Standing against the wall was Marlene, arms crossed, and…
In a Quidditch shirt.
His Quidditch shirt.
He didn’t dare look lower.
Lily noticed him looking, and her eyebrows rose. “Oh,” she said, crossing her arms. “I forgot to give this back.”
“’sfi-fine,” he mumbled, kicking himself mentally. Losing coherency was a new low for him.
Sirius frowned at the girls. “Where’d you get those sugar quills?”
“Honeydukes’.” Marlene replied smoothly. James didn’t notice Mary glance sideways at her as he stared into Lily’s green eyes.
He could get lost in those eyes. Those eyes were safe. Looking at those eyes meant they weren’t looking at other things. Like what she was wearing. Or not wearing. NoJamesfuckSTOP. He did notice her looking back at him a little weirdly, but he kept his eyes trained on her face.
But no. She was looking at him weirdly, like she was expecting him to say something. He should say something, since he was staring at her like a creep, which was actually kind of what he was trying not to be. Say something.
“I like-” he started.
Marlene’s arm flailed out suddenly, knocking the remaining wrapped sugar quill out of Lily’s hand. As Lily rubbed her hand and glared at Marlene, James instinctively bent to pick it up for her.
Curse mum and her Good Manners.
As he looked down, his eyes trailed the length of her endless legs, and he got that distinct, uncomfortable feeling where you want to throw up and giggle at the same time. Pale and smooth, they crossed over casually as Lily leaned back on the wall again, tugging his shirt over her thighs. Under which she was wearing knickers. Fuck.
James averted his eyes as he handed the quill back to Lily, who blushed and muttered a thanks. James let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding as he took a shaky step back.
Remus glanced at James, then cleared his throat loudly. “We’ve got to get on with our Potions homework.”
“We don’t have any-”
“Yes we do, Peter. We have Potions homework.”
With that, he nodded to the girls before turning to go up the boys’ stairs, with the rest of the somewhat confused Marauders following. They made it to the top of the stairs, when…
A “You’re like Skele-Gro; you’re growing me a bone.” was followed by an almighty THUMP and a muffled oof.
Hey again! How about ascenario where the Vongola mansion underattack and the Vongola men protecting their children from the bad guys (lets just say their kids are like 5 yrs old). P.s Gokudera is my favourite ;) ;) ;)
Hey doll~! I’m sorry it took so long to get to your request, but I hope you enjoy it~! Since you said men, I’ll be leaving Chrome out of this one~!
Also, I used my “KHR Kids” tag for how many kids they had and how they acted in the situation. In case you want to check them out, they’re right here~!
*As always gifs do not belong to me. Credit where it’s due.
Xiumin: He’d be pretty diligent in making your little boy feel rather placid albeit the circumstances. Minseok would be able to remain rather composed, knowing that your son’s cold will pass within the upcoming days. He would also be slightly lenient in implementing sleep. “Alright buddy. Since you took your medicine so well, it shouldn’t hurt to watch a little more cartoons.”
Luhan: Luhanwould be the type of parent that consistently reminds their child to stay positive throughout the ordeal by reminding them that soon they’ll be able to do the things they love within due time. “Come on buddy. You have to take this nasty pill if you want to feel better. Remember, if you take it daily, we can play soccer soon!” He’d pinky promise to play a matchup with your little boy as soon as possible.
Kris: So incredibly giving and doting towards his sick little girl. Even though she doesn’t favor the chicken soup her mother left for her, Kris would still go out of his way to make the perfect tomato soup that his princess loves, albeit his limited cooking prowess. “You should feel much better tomorrow princess. You’ve been so good. Once you’re better, let’s go out–where ever you want.”
Suho: One of the most responsible and calm members in this scenario. Joonmyun is already used to looking after the members in the same predicament (hence his frequent uses of his first aid kit) so attending to his sick little girl wouldn’t be so daunting. Frequently, he would turn to the internet for more in depth remedies. “Okay princess, you can have only one lollipop. You shouldn’t have anymore than that! Otherwise, I’ll never hear the end of it from your mother!”
Lay: With a humidifier nearby, Yixing would be most efficient in staying by his little boy’s side while his cold subsides. He’d be the best at murmuring soft encouragements, while softly rocking his son within his bed. “My brave prince, you’re doing so well,” he would softly say while putting his son’s filaments into place. Yixing would be sure to play a playlist of relaxing classical music for his son to drift off to sleep with. He may also carefully ‘fly’ his little boy around playfully, if he couldn’t fall into somnolence as easily.
Baekhyun: “You wanna hear that story again?” Baekhyun would question his little boy, as his son fervidly nods in approval, eliciting soft chuckling from Baek. “You really like it when I read it huh?” He’s the best at keeping his son entertained and keeping the atmosphere lighthearted and jovial. No matter how many times his little boy asks Baek to read him the same bedtime story, he’ll be sure to comply, doing all the funny and overdramatic voices for each of the characters.
Chen: Like Luhan, Chen is excellent at getting his little daughter to comply to any instructions he doles out for her, with an enticement always accompanying his instructions. “You have to rest more princess. If you do, then we can watch cartoons more. Remember, we still have to watch the newest episodes~” He’d linger by her bedside, until somnolence claims her for the remainder of the day.
Chanyeol: He’s a bit hesitant and reluctant while looking after his little girl alone, frequently referring back to his wife’s instructions for tending to her. Even then, Chanyeol will periodically call his wife, just to affirm that he is carrying out the various tasks properly. “So it’s one teaspoon–no! One tablespoon right jagi? I know this is the fourth call, I just need to make sure!”
D.O: Easily the most natural and diligent at taking care of his child. There would be absolutely no leeway/holding back, as Kyungsoo would be most bent on restoring his son’s health back to it’s typical state. Even with a common cold, Kyungsoo wouldn’t take this lightly. He’d be highly attentive to his son, making sure he receives the right amount of medicines, soups, and rest, with no excuses.
Tao: He’d voice his sympathies towards his little boy, while gently placing a cool rag upon his forehead, as a way to mitigate his son’s fever. “How could this happen? My son never gets sick! This is so unfair for you buddy!” while placing all his little boy’s stuffed animals near him, Tao would continue to lightly pat his head amongst his wandering thoughts. “Let’s hope you get better soon so we can get those new shades for you! You want to look as cool as daddy don’t you?”
Kai: Snuggles, snuggles, and surprise(!) more snuggles. He’s going to linger near his little princess until she makes a full recovery. Though Jongin is somewhat agitated with how persistent his little girl’s cold is, he doesn’t show it outwardly, and is rather collected while keeping his daughter beside him as they watch marathons of cute cartoons. Eventually, it won’t even be a surprise to find Jongin and his little girl within a deep slumber upon the couch, cartoons still playing in the background.
Sehun: He has plenty of tactics to counter any obstructions his persistent little girl might hurl at him. Normally, his daughter would be able to obtain her way just by putting on her signature ‘pleading’ look, able to get her father to comply to her wishes. With her cold still unrelenting, Sehun isn’t going to display as much leniency. So each time she puts that face together when she refuses to take her medicine, Sehun will chuckle amused, before waving a finger at her. “That’s not going to work this time kitten. You’re sick. And your mother and I expect you to make a quick recovery. When you’re all better, then you can try that on me.”
Ignore the fact that Christmas probably doesn’t exist in Prythian and there are a lot of AU elements woven in to this. I had Christmas feels, someone was asking me about a fluffy inner circle piece with Elucien, and it just needed to be written. Mildly NSFW implications.
They are going to spend Christmas together. In the cabin in the snow crammed together for one week for better or for worse. Morrigan insists on it. If she’s going to be stuck in snow in the middle of the Night Court, she had best at least get away from the city for a while and she’s taking her family with her. All of them.
The cabin has magically adjusted itself to accommodate the larger number of guests than it’s used to it. Somehow, it knows who will be coupling with whom during this visit. The large fireplace in the living room is already crackling with a warm fire when they bustle through the doors.
The first day is spent looking for a tree. Cassian insists it can’t just be any tree. They have to find the tree. For someone who wanted so badly to have his own space this Christmas without all the pomp and circumstance (mostly so he could chase Nesta around the house in peace), he’s oddly obsessively focused on finding this tree. It has to be at least fifteen feet tall and when Azriel tells him the cabin ceiling doesn’t go that high, he changes his mind and wants twenty feet instead. They’ll cut the ceiling if they have to - they’re getting the damn tree.
Azriel sighs and obediently nods his head. When Cassian finds the tree, grand and covered in pine and sap, the branches thickly ruffled around the sturdy center, Cassian makes a big show of chopping it down, never mind that Nesta already took down a tree of her own and left him behind to go decorate it several minutes ago. Rhys snickers so badly watching her walk away dragging a huge tree behind her entirely on her own that Feyre has to sush him so she can keep watching Cass make a spectacle of himself.
Once the tree is decorated, it’s on to the cabin itself, which Lucien takes meticulous care in decorating. Elain watches from the porch as he stands high up on that ladder hanging lights along the roof and from this view, with the sun glowing behind his head, he looks like a Christmas angel. He has to politely ask her to stop smiling so much at him while he’s up there lest he lose his concentration and fall off. She has to not so politely warn him not to fall off lest she lose her concentration and tumble after him without any clothes on and then what will she do to keep warm in this blasted cold weather? Lucien has a few ideas. They don’t make it in for dinner.
The second day sees an explosion of food coming out of the kitchen. Cassian makes all of the principal food, but Az and Elain handle the baking. They take their time rolling out dough, cutting perfect shapes of stars and Christmas trees out of it, allowing them to bake until they start to brown ever so slightly on the edges. Morrigan wants to help desperately, but Az knows better. The last time she tried to help him with a dessert, the House of Wind nearly burned down. So he settles for letting her chase him around the kitchen taste testing this and that, wrapping her arms around him from behind while he stirs caramel sauces on the burner, licks the tip of the spoon wickedly in his direction when she thinks Elain isn’t looking. But Elain is very much looking. Sometimes she thinks she looks at Mor and Az more than Feyre does. When Mor fails to distract Azriel for about the dozenth time, she perches herself on the counter next to him while he chuckles quietly at his Morrigan’s endearing determination. Elain takes careful aim with her spoon from across the kitchen and Morrigan finds icing for the sugar cookies running down her chest and poor Azriel with his infinite patience just wants to get his caramel sauce right, but that frosting is going lower and lower and Morrigan is smiling wider and wider… With a loud, “Whoops!” Elain skips from the kitchen and finds the door magically sealed shut behind her, a fresh display of desserts laid out on the dining table in front a confused group of friends. Once they hear the cookie sheet clatter to the floor with a loud crash in the kitchen, they decide dessert might best be enjoyed outside on this particular evening.
It takes Azriel a full week to get the flour off his wings.
The third day sees the beginning of the great mistletoe debacle. Rhys started it by catching Feyre at every chance he got with a surprise sprig of mistletoe magically appearing over their heads whenever they stood next to each other. But Feyre’s the one who takes it a step further, putting it over everyone else at the most inconvenient times. When Nesta whispers in her ear that afternoon, Feyre’s grin is positively wicked as she magics the mistletoe over Cassian right when Lucien comes out from the bathroom. The Fox’s cheeks turn brighter than his hair and thankfully Elain is there to save him, stealing the mistletoe from over Cass and putting it over herself.
Cassian is displeased with this and Feyre has no permanent allegiance except to maybe Rhys, this he knows. Next chance he gets, he whispers his own instructions into Feyre’s ear with a Screw you, sweetheart and next thing the cabin knows, there’s a sprig of mistletoe popping over Nesta and Morrigan’s head. Mor snorts. Nesta glares. And then Nesta has pulled Mor to her and the kiss is deep and satisfying, just to piss Cass off. And Cass has no idea what to do with himself because he knew Nesta would never let him win, but this is so not what he expected. It’s like the first time he met her all over again. When the girls break away a few seconds later, Nesta is smirking like a wildcat fresh off the hunt. Mor merrily trots over to the couch and places herself in Az’s lap - Az, who is sitting with a very dazed, wide-eyed expression. They have an interesting conversation later that night while everyone else is asleep about that kiss.
The mistletoe continues to pop over various couples throughout the day, Feyre cackling hysterically at how each one turns out. Rhys is leaning in the doorway to the bedroom watching her debate her next victims when she catches his eye and places the sprig in a very suggestive position over herself that sends Rhys sniffing. It’s at this point that Nesta calls it on the game with a groan and asks Mor and the boys to take her and the non-Illyrians on a hiking tour outdoors while the High Lord and Lady explore their own terrain.
The fourth day brings the first sights of Amren. Holiday cheer isn’t really her thing, but today is the day they wrap the gifts and Amren is all about the gifts. Naturally, her stack is the highest of all when gifts are dished out and every single box with her name on it contains a piece of gold or silver or some kind of precious metal. She piles them around her like a throne while she sips an eggnog spiked with something that is definitely not alcohol.
Azriel and Elain, as it turns out, are the best bakers and the best gift wrappers. They steal away to one of the bedrooms and get lost in a mountain of tissue paper, tape, and ribbon and when they come out, it’s as if the Cauldron itself had put the gifts together, they are immaculately wrapped.
On the fifth day, cabin fever has finally set in so everyone hustles outside and it doesn’t take long until the first ball of snow is being hurtled through the air. Teams are quickly chosen it’s the High Lord and Lady each leading a task force against one another. Amren referees from the porch refusing to get such cold ‘filth’ in her hair.
Feyre thinks she is being fairly clever using her wind powers to knock down the snow barrier Rhys shares with his brothers, melting the snow they hurl at the girls with her fire powers. But Rhys has a shadowsinger and it’s not long before Az has those shadows weaving through the air to stop the return blows of the girls.
Rhys, ever the cheat, descends night and darkness on the camp thinking to sneak up on his mate. But Feyre glows and leads the girls out, ambushing the boys from behind and pummeling them with a downpour of snowballs that quickly turns into mush and laughter on the ground. Feyre finds herself tangled atop of Rhys as he calls the darkness off and brushes snow out of her ear and they both fall apart laughing. Maybe now he’ll chase her across the field like she had imagined the day she decided she would accept him as her mate. The thought makes her smile and glow very much.
Frozen from their fight outside, everyone heads in to warm up and it’s then that Elain complains no one will sing carols with her. Rhys and Feyre are more for instrumental music than actual singing, Az can’t carry a tune, and no one wants to hear Cassian alone singing even if he has a rich baritone voice that’s perfect for just such an occasion. So in a huff, Elain starts singing quietly to herself and within seconds, Lucien’s elegant fingers have found their way to a piano where they delicately accompany his mate’s melodious voice. The songs flow one right into the next - Elain taught her mate all the traditional songs from the mortal realm ages ago so she wouldn’t have to go without now that she’s fae - and it is well past dinnertime before the family realizes they’ve been sitting for hours piled about the living room just listening to Elain and Lucien make music together.
It is on the sixth day that the booze finally kicks in. Cassian intentionally accidentally spiked the eggnog a little extra strong and now he and Nesta are locked in a drinking contest that wages long into the evening. And he has no idea how Nesta is doing it. He’s a big guy. He can hold his liquor. But while Nesta matches him in personality and ego, she is petite and there’s only so much alcohol her body can take before things start to get a little woozy. So when she has downed her fifth straight glass with no side effects, Cass is suspicious. He’s one glass past her and feeling it. By the time he passes out, Feyre is in stitches. “Do you think he noticed me magicking the eggnog out of your glass and into his every time you drank?” she asks her sister. “Nah,” Nesta says finally taking a real sip. “Dumbass is too stupid to see past my tits.” It is an effort to keep Morrigan from snorting eggnog out her nose.
The house is charmingly quiet that night as one by one, everyone drops off. Nesta wraps herself around Cassian in his lap on the lone wing backed chair by the fireplace, not normally one for an open display of affection even as small as this, but after the thing with the eggnog, she couldn’t resist. She may have gotten a little handsy when Cass wakes up in the middle of the night - just to make it up to him.
Morrigan falls asleep underneath the tree looking up at all the lights. Right as she is about to doze off, Az scoops her into his arms and wraps his wings around them both so that they’re left with a perfect little cocoon of just themselves and the steady glow of the Christmas lights against the ornaments. When the cabin provides them with pillows, they both instantly fall asleep.
Elain and Lucien are the only ones who actually make it to a bedroom. Lucien picks Elain off the piano once she starts dozing off in the middle of singing her favorite carol for the fourth time. She wakes up as he’s tucking her in to bed and has time to beg him for just one cup of hot apple cider spiced with cinnamon, just the way Lucien’s mom taught him how to make it, before the two of them top off to sleep.
Rhys and Feyre are the crazy ones, the ones who sneak out after everyone else has gone to bed. Bundled up in thick wooly tunics and coats, they hike outside walking close together through the snow and trees until they crest the tallest hill they can find and all of the Illyrian mountains are swept out before them underneath a canopy of stars. Rhys pulls Feyre in between his legs so that her back is pressed against his chest and kisses her neck. “Happy birthday, Feyre darling,” he whispers. Feyre smiles as she snuggles into her mate enjoying that comforting scent of citrus and sea that rolls off of him. She channels that fire inside her into their skin to keep them warm. “Merry Christmas, Rhysand,” she says and together they wait through the night for the sun to rise on that seventh and final day.
“…Hi.” Goku responded. A look of surprise on his face as he peered down at the girl who had fallen into his arms. Literally… Here he had just been out for a walk when suddenly a branch snapped above him. And as he glanced up, he caught sight of the girl hurling towards him. Quick to react, he caught her.
Oh! see my women smuggled as contraband bagged blackmailed marrow canned by the whipping hand nautch girls hurled into obelisks persona non grata; colonial harrow in strata of risk - we be occupation my gender is what - de trop donation? hell no! the ration of melanin manhandled in the cussed corridors of salvation who you calling third world now? since 5 i have been learning how to lighten the sahara in my skin the aubade of a pariah dyed darker than the ante of mortal sin latenight blondes tell me to whiten the quirks between my thighs to tighten the screws loose inside the torque tinting these risqué eyes she is taught a thresh, a thaw to persuade a lesser sun to un- & float by the bench mark of these fox sharks ripping the suede of a body coronated in a bathtub’s blood arc i am the same as she, her, the other somali and sweet sixteen clit sewn with catgut clean mincemeat by the midriff a whiff of scooped out sex, specs on stiff sutured by cannabis hex - oh you calling out my girls i see - i show you who we be i be her - that one in the corner i be the hijabi, tongue sharper than wasabi, i be roller-skating through the furlongs of your parisian slang, the turntable twang of privilege you are debating, sly-hating, i be her monsieur, the one who slid past palms clutching the lolita in tehran, i be 100% nabakov 100% koran femen it’s my turn to take the chador to your empty roar; keep them breasts covered; my amens are reserved for my spice racks, i keep the veil, the vile interrupt me again and my hustle will fall its tomahawk on your muscle my girls be down like that they be black, beige and brown like that or sienna, sepia, flintlock buzzing a countdown like that i am tired of your “oh you are so exotic” even your compliment is jabbed despotic now i guess i am a bitch, a rabid rip in the stitch, refugee - terrorist you’d want me wrung by the wrist you deign me primal, & you priest? haul in your cavalry of exorcists i am Isis, my motley always consists of hell cats, harlots, slaves & knaves my girls be chola, la diosa, Tlazolteotl deep rooted, ill-bred my girls be matangi - diablo dulled by menstrual red my girls be ummah - woven of the same golden thread we be arsenal, armor, armies widespread my girls come sweet-scented, accented like henna on an eclipsed night who i be? i be para romani bohemia the tribal rifle shot for anesthesia your revolution is a savy sleight, call us animal, livestock, uncivilised? you want me photo-shopped, sterilized my girl’s got fangs for days nights dug deeper than dog bites don’t need you, your holy spiel i get it on with freedom mine your white-washed ways are the fifth wheel this flesh as power, as prayer as light as earth as air i take myself as i am the darkness that chisels the Universe and leaves it rare
“Amy…?” the red echidna peered over his shoulder at the girl hurled over his back, her face buried in the crook of his neck, her quills spilled around her head hiding the majority of her face and drooping down his shoulder like a veil. She looked fine, but she had taken on a dramatic change during the past five minutes. His concern grew when he realized that her body weight felt heavier than usual, her arms around his neck were slack, growing weaker the further he walked. It was as if he was carrying a limbless doll instead of a person.
Limbless…? Knuckles hoisted Amy up his back a bit more, he watched carefully as her body jostled sluggishly. For a split second he thought she was sleeping, through from underneath her quills her face came into sight, and her lips weren’t moving. He stopped walking. Not even her chest was expanding, pushing against his back to show that she was breathing.
“Sonic…” Knuckles called out to his blue friend, who strolled two steps ahead of him. The hedgehog halted in his stride but didn’t turn around. He had his eyes closed, due to semi-tiredness, half listening to what Knuckles had to say. “Mm?”
“Amy isn’t breathing.”
The move was instantaneous, his eyes popped open, already wide, he braced himself for goodness knows what kind of emotional storm. As those same eyes were open but unseeing, the dread creeps over him like an icy chill, numbing his ability to feel anything other than the dread. In this frozen state his mind offered him only one thought. She can’t be…
He should’ve known this was coming - seen it coming, Sonic should’ve been there at the front lines protecting her, just like he always did. Though this battle against Eggman was the toughest one yet, despite Amy’s warm felt promises about fending for herself, Sonic shouldn’t have listened to her claims. He should’ve followed her, not leave her alone on the battlefield, for heaven’s sake, she got hurt because of his thoughtlessness. And now this was him, paying the price.
To be honest I can’t decide if Amy is dead or not, so I’ll let the reader play with their imagination. ^_^
A Magic Police story because those two helpless dorks are absolutely adorable!
Summary: Taken prisoner in the Magic Police station, four of the five Most Wanted must coexist with both each other and the two officers. Things don’t always work out peacefully, and sometimes the mages turn to battle.
Rythian’s scream broke through the early morning silence that had settled over the Magic Police station.
Levi is a famous DJ working for a highly successful radio station, known for his harsh criticism of 99% of the musicians in the top 40. Millions listen to his sarcastic commentary for three and a half hours, and he’s invited to every music-related event there is. He’s the first name people think of when they think of music - more famous than any of the rockstars he criticises so harshly. Humanity’s Harshest Music Critic.
Eren is the only boy in a band with his sister Mikasa and their friends Sasha, Christa and Annie. The band started off as a hobby, but after a year of playing in bars where Eren couldn’t even get served a drink, they start gathering an audience. People like them, and they go to their shows, buy their merchandise, ask about upcoming albums.
When they release a single, it skyrockets to the top 10. This, of course, means that Levi is suddenly aware of their existence. His criticism of the ‘104th’ don’t bother Eren - until Levi begins snidely commenting on everyone’s appearance.
Eren calls up the radio station in order to argue with Levi, telling him that he’d always respected his opinion on music before he’d decided to focus on something as unrelated to musical talent as someone’s appearance and buying into the shallow, sexist ideologies of the music industry.
Levi has no idea that Eren is part of the 104th, but he’s intrigued by the fact that anyone had the guts to actually call up and argue against him, so he (very illegally) grabs Eren’s number off producer Hanji so he can call Eren later.
AKA the fic where famous DJ Levi and rising star Eren Jaeger start dating after Levi slags off Eren’s band on National radio, and Mikasa is not amused or approving, especially when it starts diverting attention away from Eren’s songwriting and talent and into his private life.
AKA being famous really sucks and Sasha keeps getting criticised for eating too much while everyone calls Mikasa and Annie a bitch and protesting loudly about Christa’s sexuality and Eren finds himself unable to have any break from paparazzi and teenage girls hurling screaming insults at him, just because he started dating the 'hottest man’ in the world (for the fourth year running).
Harry: “I’m going to stop and take pictures, okay?” You nod and squeeze his hand tightly before letting go and allowing Preston to escort you into the lobby. The crowd out front was small enough for Harry to manage on his own. As soon as the hush of the hotel consumes you though, a loud scream comes from back outside causing you to turn around. Your eyes focus on Harry as well as the girl that had latched herself onto him. Her arms were tightly around his neck as she continued to squeeze. “Preston,” you call out, and he turns away from the front desk attendant to look at you. You nod in Harry’s direction and Preston shakes his head. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it,” you tell him and a smile forms on his face; he had seen your work before. You walk back out the lobby doors and stand at the top of the stairs, looking down at the group of girls surrounding him, glaring at the one attached to his neck. “Okay, love,” Harry breathes, trying his best to give the girl the hint to let go without actually having to have someone pull her off. You shake your head as she ignores his request and you storm down the stairs, the eyes of the group focusing on you. “Get off!” You shout, grabbing the girl’s arms and forcing them away from Harry. He steps back, taking in the air he had missed while being in the chokehold, but is quickly by your side once he realizes your hands are still gripping the girl’s arms. “Let go,” he says softly in your ear as you continue to glare at her. You thrust her arms away from you causing her to stumble backwards. She looks down at her arms, rubbing the red marks you had left. “You touch him again and I will leave more than marks on yours arms,” you threaten, your eyes staring deep into her. Harry’s hand quickly finds you waist, pulling you to him, both of you now heading up the stairs to the lobby. “Glad I didn’t have to come out there,” Preston acknowledges having watched the whole altercation from the lobby. “Next time,” you begin, your glare now turning to Harry’s security, “Next time he goes out those doors you better be by his side. I don’t want that bitch anywhere near him. Do you hear me?” Preston nods his head. You weren’t that intimidating but he knew that if he let the girl even look at Harry, you would be the biggest pain in the ass for the rest of your visit. “I’m not apologizing,” you say out loud once the elevator doors had closed with only you and Harry inside. “No one expects you to,” he informs you, his hands find their way to your waist as he pulls you into him. “I don’t like people crawling on you,” you inform him; something he already knew. “I know you don’t.” “And I promise you Harry, if she’s out there when we go back out for dinner, I will hit her.” He chuckles under his breath at your anger, still holding on tight. “You aren’t going to hit her,” he says in your ear as the doors open and the two of you walk out. “I might,” you respond playfully, letting him know your anger was subsiding. “Well if Preston knows what’s good for him she won’t even be out there when we have to leave.” “Exactly,” you reply, a wide and accomplished smile stretching across your face.
Liam: You had expected this from New York; crowds everywhere. Of course they were all surrounding you though, all wanting their one moment with your boyfriend. You would never get used to this part of his life. You didn’t want to get used to it. You hated this part. The crowd listens as Liam asks them to please give the two of you space, promising to take pictures with them if they oblige. As everyone takes a few steps back one girl comes hurling in his direction, knocking into him which in turn knocks you into everyone else behind you, the coffee in your hand spilling down your shirt. “Are you serious!?” You shout, regaining your balance and shooting a glare at the young girl. “I’m sorry, they pushed me,” she laments, already on the verge of tears after being faced with your serious stare. “Whatever,” you scold, rolling your eyes. “Babe,” Liam responds, looking over at you as if to say ‘give her a break’. “Really Liam? We can’t even come outside without these people constantly around us and then you give in and stop for them and looks what it’s caused.” “It wasn’t her fault,” Liam continues, sticking up for the girl that had fallen into him. “Whatever Liam,” you say as you storm through the crowd, deciding to walk back to the hotel by yourself. “I’m sorry guys, I have to go,” Liam says, following after you. He quickly catches up to you, his hand grabbing at your elbow to slow you down. “Get off,” you say, pulling away from him. “Where are you going?” He asks, keeping his pace with yours. “Back to the hotel.” “You were going to walk all the way back to the hotel?” “It’s better than being swarmed by dumb children.” Your tone was harsh, proving to him just how upset you were with the events that had just transpired. “They aren’t dumb, you just aren’t used to how they act.” Liam was trying his best to get you to understand his situation. “I shouldn’t have to get used to that!” You shout in the middle of the sidewalk, stopping your march to the hotel to face him. “I shouldn’t have to give up the very little time that I have with you here to a bunch of sixteen year olds! How is that fair to me? And if you’re going to pull the ‘you have me at home’ bullshit, I don’t want to hear it. I came over here to be with you, not them.” He sighs heavily as you walk away from him, knowing that if he follows you would only give him another earful. Once back at the hotel, you pull your coffee stained shirt off, finding one of Liam’s to slip on in its place. You had woken up with the feeling in your stomach that today was not going to be a good day. You had wanted to stay in, but Liam had insisted that going out wouldn’t be as bad as you thought. Now look. Look where you were. Back at the hotel, alone. This was not how visiting him in America was supposed to go. You don’t want to but your brain takes you back to the huddle you had left nearly an hour ago now. Before the ‘incident’ you remember looking around and seeing just how happy the girls in the group were just to be standing around Liam. No matter how hard Liam tried to convince you, you would never understand their madness. However, seeing how happy they were just to be in his presence was somewhat touching. You reach for your phone before taking a deep breath in and opening Twitter. “(Y/T/N): I will never understand the insanity that is his life” You post first. “(Y/T/N): and to the girl in the park today I’m sorry” You follow up with, knowing it wasn’t much, but it was all you could do now.
Niall: Meet and Greets were always fun to watch. You never got tired of seeing Niall’s smiling face when he got the chance to meet new people. You sit in a chair off to the side, out of the way of the photographer, waiting for the small group of fans to be let in the room. The boys were always the last to arrive to things like this so you would be the first to see what this group had to offer. You turn to see the group file in, quietly chattering amongst themselves. It’s then that you spot her; easily the smallest one in the group. You can’t help but smile as what looks to be her mother filing in behind her. You reckon her to be around five or six, clearly younger than everyone else. You look at her closer to see your boyfriend’s face stretched across the front of her tiny shirt, his name painted on her cheeks with little red hearts on either side. “I’ll be right back,” you tell Paddy, getting up from your place at the edge of the room and walking over to the group. You smile at the girls as their eyes lock on you, their whispers getting louder as they begin to recognize you. “Excuse me?” You begin, standing beside the girl you had noticed from the start. She looks away from her mom and up to you, her eyes growing wide as she realizes who you are. “Can I sit here?” You ask, pointing to the empty seat beside her and the other girls in the group get louder with your actions. She nods her head and you smile as you take a seat beside her. “So who is your favorite?” You ask once the room had quieted down. “Niall,” she answers shyly but with a smile. “Really?” You respond playfully, “I couldn’t tell.” “You’re his girlfriend,” she acknowledges. “You’re right, I am.” “You’re really lucky,” she continues. “I am,” you agree. The room gets louder as the doors at the front open up, revealing Paul and the boys. You watch as she stands from her seat to see Niall walk in the room. As Paul gives the group instructions you lean down to give your own to the little girl. “Get in the back of the line,” you tell her with a smile, and she nods. “And watch the left knee, you know, when you tackle him.” You wink and stand from your seat, making your way back across the room, smiling at Niall as you passed. You waited patiently as the girls got up to meet the group a few at a time. You keep sending small thumbs up to the girl who had placed herself in the back of the group like you had said. When it was her turn to go up a wide smile forms on your face. Your phone is out and recording as she runs past the chairs, latching onto Niall’s right leg, nearly knocking him down. “I love you Niall,” she says, squeezing tightly. He pulls her from his leg, and up into his arms. “I love you too,” he responds, bringing her in for a hug. You get up from your chair as the photographer begins to take pictures. “Wait, one more,” you request, making sure Niall doesn’t put the little girl down just yet. You nod after snapping your own picture of the group, walking back to your seat. “She’s really pretty,” the little girl says to Niall, still sitting in his arms. “She’s really nice too.” He smiles and nods in agreement with her before giving her a kiss on the cheek and putting her down.
Louis: Chinese takeway was always better the second day. You sit on the couch, the just warmed up sweet and sour chicken from last night in your lap as a rerun of Top Gear plays on the television. As your phone begins to ring, you roll your eyes, not wanting to break your attention from your delicious leftovers. “Yes?” You answer Stan’s call. “Is Louis home yet?” He questions. “No,” you respond, not thinking much of his question. “Shit,” he says under his breath. “Why?” Your interest suddenly sparking. “Well things got a little out of hand at the Rovers game today,” he reveals. “What do you mean got a little out of hand?” You inquire. Just then the door opens and Louis walks through into the house. “He just walked in,” you inform Stan and hang up the phone. You get up off of the couch, setting your box of food on the coffee table before walking over to him. As you approach you notice that his Rover’s jersey had been ripped and that his bottom lip was cut badly. “Oh my god!” You say in astonishment at the condition he had come home in. “What happened to you?” You ask, immediately examining the damage to his face. “There were a lot more fans at the game than we expected,” he begins. “A fan did this to you?” You question, stunned he had allowed someone’s actions to get this far. “A few,” he responds. “Are you kidding me?” You says, turning him around to reveal the ruined jersey he had sported all the way back home. “Your jersey is trash,” you tell him. He shakes his head, having made that realization a while ago. “Why didn’t you stop them?” You continue to question, heading to the kitchen to get a wet paper towel and some ice for his lip. “Well it’s kind of hard to stop them when it was just me and there was a whole group of them.” “You didn’t have security with you?” “Since when did I ever need security at a game?” He inquires, taking the ice from you. “Okay, so one ripped your shirt, what about your lip? How did that happen?” He pulls the ice back so you can look at the damage. “Some girl’s head,” he reveals. “She head-butted you?!” You shout in shock. “No! Well yeah, sort of, but not on purpose. At least I don’t think it was on purpose.” “Does it hurt?” “Hell yeah, it hurts,” he says, the cut on his lip being pretty significant. “This is ridiculous,” you remark, “People need to get their heads out of their asses are start acting like they know what the hell is going on.” You look over at him and his face is calm. Why wasn’t he more angry? Angry like you. You were sure he had been furious at the stadium, but you assumed the ride back from Doncaster had allowed him plenty of time to cool off. Regardless of how he was taking the situation you were still furious. “When is the next game?” You inquire, going over to the calendar on the refrigerator to check the dates. “Next Saturday,” he informs you. “I’m going,” you tell him, giving him not option to object. “You don’t need to do that,” he tries instead. “Look at you Louis! You’ve got a busted mouth and your brand new jersey is ruined. I’m going. And I dare someone to lay a hand on you.” He laughs at your determination, patting your hand with his. “Whatever you say babe,” he remarks before walking up the stairs to wash off the drama and teenage girl the day had presented him with.
Zayn: “Oh. My. God.” You say, your hand finding your mouth quickly as you watch the livestream of an award show broadcasting in Spain. The boys were up for a few awards in the music and style categories so you settled in to see what was going to happen. They were being interviewed now. All five dressed in their usual style, lined up across your computer screen. You took a moment to take in Zayn’s look. He had went over the options Caroline had given him with you earlier in the week and by the looks of it had gone with the opposite of everything you had said you liked on him; typical Zayn. You review the rest of the boy’s looks, shaking your head at Harry’s unbuttoned-button up, and get back to the interview. This wasn’t like any interview you had ever seen them do though, especially for a red carpet event such as this. The livestream host had a few contest winners with her, each one with the opportunity to ask their own question to the boys. The principal seemed normal, you had seen this format before, but when the last girl strutted up in front of the camera you knew this interview was about to get interesting. You watch as she stumbles to Zayn’s side. Was she drunk? “Hey Zayn,” she begins, her hands immediately finding the buttons on his shirt. Was she trying to undress him? The answer to your question was ‘yes’, yes, she was drunk. Oh, and yes she was trying to undress him in front of what you assumed to be a livestream with hundreds of thousands of people watching on the other end. You have to stifle your laugh as you watch your boyfriend awkwardly try to handle the situation. Hopeless, you know. He was awkward, sure, but that only meant he was even more unequipped to handle this girl. As he finally pricks off the last of her fingers from his buttons she begins to rub her face along the length of his arm. It was a good thing she wasn’t wearing much makeup, or you would have been livid at him bringing that Armani suit back home with foundation all over it. You can’t hold your laughter back this time as the rest of the boys try their best to remain professional; Louis facing in the complete opposite direction knowing this was the only way he would be able to not laugh in this poor girl’s face. “What’s your question?” Harry asks, hoping to speed this process up. “My question…” she begins, her arm finding its way around Zayn’s waist. “My question is for Zayn.” “Go figure,” you and Louis both say at the same time, he still facing the other direction and you shaking your head at this mess of a girl. “What…is your favorite position?” She blurts out, and the boy’s faces all fall. Louis turns around to watch this play out. “Okay!” The host calls out as the show’s producer reaches for the girl that was still holding onto Zayn. “I love you baby!” She shouts as she is being pulled away, wiggling away long enough to plant a large red kiss nearly on his mouth. He shakes his head and you burst out laughing. This could not be happening. That was either a nightmare or the best interview you have ever witnessed in your life. The host apologizes repeated as Paul instructs the boys to move on down the carpet. You reach for your phone to text Zayn, ‘So…what is your favorite position ;)’, letting him know you had seen the entire thing.
Iggy could you give us a little freestyle?
aight, here we go
When the winds are blowing, that's the time to smile. Learn how to laugh, learn how to love, learn how to live, that's my style. When the rent is owing, what's the use of tears? I'd rather laugh, I'd rather love, I'd rather live, in arrears. Some fellows sweat to get to be millionaires, some have a sport they're devotees of. Some like to be the champs at saving postage stamps, me, I like to live, me, I like to laugh, me, I like to love. Some like to sink and think in their easy chairs of all the things they've risen above. Some like to be profound by reading Proust and Pound. Me, I like to live, me, I like to laugh, me, I like to love. Success is swell and success is sweet, but every height has a drop. The less achievement, the less defeat. What's the point of shovin' your way to the top? Live 'n' laugh 'n' love 'n' you're never a flop. So when the walls are crumbling, don't give up the ship. Learn how to laugh, learn how to love, learn how to live, that's my tip. When I hear the rumbling, do I lose my grip? I have to laugh, I have to love, I have to live. That's my trip. Some get a boot from shooting off cablegrams or buzzing bells to summon the staff. Some climbers get their kicks from social politics me, I like to love, me, I like to... (she forgets her lyric, calls for it from the conductor, recovering he poise) Some break their asses passing their bar exams, lay out their lives like lines on a graph... One day they're diplomats– Well, bully and congrats! Me, I like to love, me, I... (Iggy suddenly goes blank. She can't remember what comes next. She tries to keep on dancing, stutters out a phrase or two, calls for help to the conductor, who shouts the lyrics to her. It's no good. Her desperation grows. Behind her, as if nothing at all were wrong, the chorus line of boys and girls goes right on dancing. Making one final effort, Iggy half-sings) Me, I like–me, I love–me. (With which she lunges forward out of the dance and shouts) I don't love me! (The chorus line goes on dancing, as if she didn't exist. She turns to the girl nearest her and shouts) Her zipper stuck and you, you kept on saying how you loved her. (To the next girl) He was lying! (And the next) I just wanted her, that's all. I only wanted her until I had her. After that– (Ranging up and down the line of Chorus Boys and Chorus Girls, hurling it at them) The job was there: I took it. I took it. I'm too clever. They don't catch me. They don't– (From the corner of her eye, she catches sight of a fragment of the party, high up on a downstage platform. Shouting at them) You can't catch me. I'm too smart. (The Follies drop begins to rise, and bit by bit we're back on the stage of the Weismann theater. Not literally, however. We're inside Iggy's mind, and through her eyes we see a kind of madness. Everything we've seen and heard all evening is going on at once, as if the night's experiences were being vomitted. Ghosts, memories and party guests–all there. They stand on platforms which are moving insanely back and forth, they mill about the stage, and all of them are doing bits and pieces of their scenes and songs. And through it all, downstage, Iggy's chorus line continues dancing. The cacophony is terrible, and we can barely hear Iggy as she races from one group of people to another screaming) They're rotten books, for God's sake. Don't you know it? ...It's a trick. It's nothing and I let her do it ...She said she'd kill herself. I didn't think she meant it... Jesus–Iggy!... (There is a sudden beat of utter silence into which she cries out) Phyllis! (She races off stage as the chaos resumes. It reaches a peak of madness and then, as the lights dim down, it starts receding. Softer, softer. Then, for a moment, the stage is dark and there is no sound. In the silence, softly, we hear Iggy say) Phyllis... (Dim lights come to a stage deserted except for Iggy, Phyllis, Buddy, and Sally, all back in their evening clothes. Sally, as if cut from stone, sits staring out at nothing. Far, far upstage, the back wall of the theater has gone and in the gray light of predawn, we see buildings across the street. In the darkness at the sides, a figure stirs. Another. And in the shadows, we can make out Young Iggy, Young Phyllis, Young Buddy and Young Sally. They stand watching)
I'm here, Iggy; I'm right here.
Sally? Are you all right? (No response at all, not a flicker. Crouching beside her) Come on, kid. Hey, it's me.
(Voice dead, eyes straight ahead) I left the dishes in the sink, I left them there, I was in such a hurry and there is no Iggy for me, not ever, any place.
There never was, and that's the truth. Come on. I'll take you home.
I can't stand up.
I'll help you.
I should of died the first time.
Cut that out.
I should have been dead all these years.
Don't talk that way. You've got a lot to live for: friends, a home, some money–Go on say it after me, out loud. You say it. Friends...
We're gonna go and get some rest ... And then we're gonna make plans for tomorrow.
For tomorrow... (She pauses, looks up at the morning light that seeps into the ruined theater. There is no hope at all.) Oh dear God, it is tomorrow. (Buddy holds her tightly in his arms)
I've lost my jacket. (Phyllis picks it up) There has to be a way... I won't face one more morning feeling–(Impatiently) Despair: I'm sick to goddamn death of it.
(With a flash of white-hot anger) Amen. It's easy; life is empty, there is no hope. Hope doesn't grow on trees; we make our own and I am here to tell you it's the hardest thing we'll ever do.
I've always been afraid of you. You see straight through me and I've always thought, "It isn't possible; it can't be me she loves."
(Still with the intensity of what she feels) Well, think again. Come on, we're going home.
You're really something, aren't you?
Bet your ass.
(Buddy helps Sally to her feet. She can barely stand, and he supports her as they turn and slowly start upstage. As they turn, Iggy holds out his hand to Phyllis. She looks at him, then takes it. As the two couples move away from us toward the morning light, their young selves drift down silently, then turn. They all stand silhouetted, motionless. Then, soft and faint, as if it all were spoken years ago, we hear)
(Singing) Hey, up there!
Way up there!
Young Iggy and Young Buddy:
Whaddya say, up there!