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Shouto Proposal Headcanons

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Thank you to everyone who's been sending in requests. I've been having a lot of fun since starting this account and it's nice to know that people are enjoying my writing enough to request from me. It's always exciting to get on Tumblr and see something in my inbox.

(Requests are still open!)

(UPDATED!) Senpai noticed but you were not ready you absolute FOOL. Meanwhile 66 thinks he’s intimidating the poor sniper and tries -but fails- to start conversation. 

Ok so let me explain… Yusuke Murata had to leave out of the latest chapters a really cool panel of One Shotter and Zombieman firing together, a friend loved that panel and wrote a fic based on it, and now everyone in our discord server supports this ship lmao (the conversation after I showed them this art is priceless, go have a laugh)

paintingchoso ⛧ masterlist

↳ ❝ locker room talk (satosugu x reader 18+) ❞

↳ ❝ midnight hour (megumi x reader 18+) ❞ ˚

↳ ❝ good morning (satoru x reader 18+) ❞

↳ ❝ stay in your place (suguru x reader 18+) ❞ *

... & more soon.

© paintingchoso 2024 : do not repost, copy, plagiarize, translate, or use my works OUTSIDE of tumblr.

{ * - headcannons / ˚ - wip }

Paws and Effect Blurb

Read the full thing on: AO3

Paws and Effect - A Ghost/Reader/Soap Hyrbid AU fic.

Blurb - 4k words, Full on AO3 - 16k words (18+)

Summary: Soap was convinced that Ghost was hiding something. He was dead set on a secret missus tucked away in some flat in London. Nothing could have prepared him for the truth. A cozy little farmhouse, far removed from the chaos of their world, and a… fluffy cat? The biggest shock yet? The cat’s true identity.

Soap was certain that Ghost had a missus back home. His first clue? Ghost’s uniforms. They were always crisp and well-pressed. Don’t get him wrong, he was sure the big man knew how to use an iron, but there was something suspiciously meticulous about the way his clothes looked when he would come back from leave. Pressed to perfection, not a single wrinkle in sight.

Not only were they clean-pressed, but there was that scent that drove Soap’s nose crazy. It wasn’t just your standard laundry detergent, there was something warmer, floral, something… homey. Soap had sniffed every brand of detergent he could get his nose on, but nothing quite matched the lingering fragrance that was on Ghost’s clothes.

He tried asking once, tossing out the question casually. “So, you got a missus waiting for you back home, Ghost?”

The man barely spared him a glance, shaking his head. “Just a cat,” he said. His tone was even, but Soap swears he could see just the faintest twitch of a smile under his mask. 

What really got under his skin was how the rest of the 141 played along. When he pressed Gaz about it, all he got was a shrug. “He’s not lying, mate. He’s got a cat.”

Price wasn’t any better. “Sounds about right,” he said, offering nothing more. Soap wasn’t buying it though, because every so often he’d get another clue. 

Like when he overheard Ghost chatting with someone on base. He kept mentioning how she was doing, whether she was planning to visit soon and no matter how hard he tried, Soap couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t a cat. It was always just vague enough to be brushed off, yet it gnawed at Soap’s curiosity. 

The final clue was the phone calls. Ghost wasn’t the type to waste time on mindless chatter, but every now and then, he’d slip away with his phone, voice low and private. One night, Soap happened to walk down the hallway towards the rec room at the right time. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop… kind of. It just so happened that he could hear Ghost’s voice from where he so happened to be standing.

“Yeah… I miss you too.”

Soap nearly fell out of his pants. He finally caught him, but he couldn’t let him know. He needed something more solid and he had to find out just who this girl was.

Going back to square one, he decided to take another swing at asking questions. “So Ghost, what’s your cat’s name?”

Ghost barely looked up from his cards. Soap had figured the team’s weekly poker game was the perfect time to catch him off guard. It seemed like a solid plan so far, but Ghost was just as unreadable as ever.

“Callie,” Ghost answered simply.

Soap narrowed his eyes. “What kind of name is that for a cat?”

Price leaned back in his chair, gaze darting between Soap and Ghost. “Why do you care so much, Johnny?” he asked his tone a mix of curiosity and amusement.

“I don’t, I just-,” he huffed. “Look, I just know he’s full of shite, alright? There’s no way all he’s got at home is a bloody cat. And what’s worse is it that you lot seem to know it too.”

Across the table, Gaz snorted. “You sound jealous.”

Soap scowled. “I am not jealous. I just find it hard to believe.”

Before he could finish, Ghost’s phone buzzed.

The whole room went still.

Ghost barely reacted, checking the screen with his usual impassive air before typing out a quick response. Then, just as casually, he slipped his phone back into his pocket and placed his cards down with a satisfying ‘plap’.

“That was the cat,” he said flatly, revealing a full house. “Gotta make a call.”

Gaz nearly chokes on his drink, bursting out laughing. Price just sighed, leaning over to pat Soap on the shoulder. “Just give it up, mate.”

A month later, the task force was on the road, making their way back to base after a grueling week-long mission a few hours away. It was far too late for them to be out and exhaustion was starting to settle in. They had pushed to get back, desperate for their own beds, but the further they drove, the harder it was for everyone to stay awake.

“Why don’t we just crash at my place for the night,” Ghost offers, calm but firm. From behind the wheel, Price glances over, considering it for a second before nodding. 

“Sounds like a plan,” he says, speeding on into the night. 

Soap perks up immediately, practically bouncing forward to stick his head between the front seats. “Wait, we’re going to L.T.’s place?”

Ghost sighs, already regretting his offer. “On second thought…”

Soap playfully shoves his shoulder. “Aw, don’t be like that,” he grins. 

“It’s been a while,” Price cuts in, his voice carrying a note of familiarity. “It’ll be nice to visit again. Bet a lot’s changed since I was there last.”

Ghost doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he turns his gaze toward the dark scenery outside. “You have no idea…” he murmurs.

Soap blinks. “Wait, ye’ve been before, Captain?” 

Price nods. “A few times.”

From the back seat, Gaz casually raises a hand. “As have I.”

Soap reels back, scandilized “What?” he whines. “How come everyone else has got an invitation ‘cept me L.T.?”

Ghost cocks his head to the side, sizing up the Scotsman with an air of amusement. “You’re too rowdy. You’ll scare the cat.” 

Price and Ghost exchange a knowing glance, only adding fuel to the fire in Soap’s burning curiosity.

Soap huffs, flopping back into his seat with exaggerated indignation. “Unbelievable,” he mutters under his breath.

He turns his attention to the window, watching as the darkness of the countryside stretches endlessly around them. The road was essentially empty with vast, open fields on either side. Every so often, a streetlamp would flicker by, offering the briefest glimpse of the world outside before swallowing it back into the shadows.

Yet, despite the tranquil scenery around them, Soap’s mind was far from resting. If everyone had been to Ghost’s place before, that meant that there was definitely something worth seeing, something he was hiding. He was determined to be right. Ghost had a bird.

Further into the drive, Soap catches glimpses of distant lights moving across the fields. They bobbed and weaved in a uniform rhythm, eerily synchronized for lights, flickering through the darkness.

“Farmer’s dogs are out,” Ghost comments, his voice low and unreadable. “Must be chasin’ something.”

Before Soap could get a proper look at whatever something was, the car veered onto a narrow side road, cutting off his view.

“You live near a farm?” he asks, watching as the scenery shifts.

Ghost grunts an affirmative, offering nothing more. Before he could press any further, Price turns onto a long, gravel driveway, the tires crunching softly against the stones. 

Soap leans forward again as a modest yet charming farmhouse comes into view. A small porch light bathes the front of the house in a warm glow. It looked, cozy. Not how he would think one would describe Ghost’s home.

“That’s yer place?” he asks, heavy skepticism coating his tone.

Once again, Ghost merely grunts an affirmative. Then, with a slight edge to his voice, he adds, “Make sure you mind your manners.”

Soap smirks. “What, ye worried I’ll scare the cat?” Soap teases. 

The joke earns him a hard glare from the masked man, the kind that makes it very clear that he is treading on thin ice. Price parks up close to the house before anyone can say anything further. 

After stepping out, Soap takes a chance to look at his surroundings. The house was wrapped in lush greenery, flowers spilling over from well-kept garden beds and climbing trellises. It was once again a stark contrast to the man who owned it, comfy. And yet, it only fueled Soap’s suspicions.

They had barely grabbed their bags when a blood-curdling screech tore through the quiet night.

Soap froze, immediately on edge. “What the hell was that?”

A deep, guttural meowl followed and it felt long, drawn-out, and wrong. It echoes from somewhere near the tree line, making Soap’s pulse quicken.

Ghost barely reacts, simply glancing towards the forest. “Cat must’ve got out,” he mutters before heading toward the house.

Soap hesitates. That didn’t sound like any cat he’d ever heard.

Something about how Ghost said it so casually and dismissive sends a shiver down his spine. With a quick glance toward the others, he hurries after Ghost, not keen on lingering outside any longer than necessary.

Stepping inside, Soap was immediately hit with a wave of warmth and comfort. The living room was the exact opposite of what he had expected. Big, inviting couches piled high with plush pillows and blankets, soft lighting that cast a golden glow across the walls. Nearly every surface was adorned with plants, their vines spilling over shelves and trailing toward the floor in lazy curls.

And then there was the pet bed. It was huge, nestled in the corner like a throne. Soap stared at it, utterly surprised. “Just how big is your cat?”

Ghost’s answer dies on his tongue as another ungodly screech echoed from outside, this time followed by the unmistakable snap of jaws and a furious chorus of barking dogs.

Soap flinched, whipping toward the window in time to see three of the distant lights streaking past, tearing towards the forest with breakneck speed.

“Sounds like they caught whatever they were after,” Ghost says flatly, completely unfazed. 

Soap turns to him, concern plastered on his face. Slowly, Soap takes a step away from the window.

“Right,” Ghost continues as if nothing had happened. “One of you will need to take the couch. Guest bed’s not big enough for three.” 

Just as the words leave his mouth, a sudden noise comes from the kitchen. A faint but distinct shuffle, the sound of movement where there shouldn’t be any. Every head snaps toward the doorway. The team had faced enemy fire, brutal missions, and near-death situations. But after the week they’d had, their nerves were still wound tight, instincts sharp.

Suddenly, soft, quick footfalls break the silence, followed by a chorus of eager meows barreling into the living room. The team exhales, shoulders loosening as the true source of the “intruder” revealed itself.

“There she is,” Ghost says, his voice uncharacteristically warm as he kneels down.

A fluffy black cat, with a mosaic of white and orange splotches, practically launches into Ghost’s arms. Immediately a cacophony of loud, rumbling purrs fill the room as the cat chirps and rubs their head all over the masked man.

“There's my girl,” Ghost coos as he rubs a finger under the cat's chin. 

Soap swears he can see the damn cat smile, purrs growing even louder as it presses into the touch, completely and utterly smitten with the masked man.

“She's looking nice and healthy,” Price comments, watching the affectionate display.

At the sound of his voice, the cat perks up, ears twitching as it twists out of Ghost’s hold and trots over to rub against Price and Gaz’s legs. Both men reach down to scratch at its soft fur, their hands easily finding familiar spots.

“I forgot how soft you were,” Gaz chuckles as it twirls between them, soaking up the attention. Then, as if suddenly noticing the extra presence in the room, the cat pauses. Its bright green eyes land on Soap, studying him with a quiet curiosity. It tilts its head slightly, ears twitching as it takes a hesitant step forward. 

Soap freezes, glancing at Ghost who gives him a small nod.

“Let her sniff your hand,” Ghost instructs. 

Frowning slightly, Soap peels off his glove and extends his hand, palm up. The cat looks to Ghost first, as if waiting for some kind of confirmation. Ghost turns his attention to the cat, cocking his head to Soap. “That’s Soap,” he tells it, low and steady.

At that, its ears perk, and its tail flicks before it closes the distance, giving his hand a few, careful sniffs. Then, as if making its final judgment, it presses its head into his palm, purring into the touch.

“Soap, this is Callie,” Ghost says simply. “Seems she likes you.”

Soap blinks down at her as she gazes up at him with wide, trusting green eyes. Any lingering suspicions, theories, or conspiracies vanish in an instant. Ghost was telling the truth. There was no secret missus waiting back at home.

Just this cat. 

Callie.

“She’s a beaut,” Soap admits, scratching gently behind her ear.

Ghost gives a short nod. “Yeah.”

After another moment, Callie stretches lazily and trots back over to Ghost. She lets out a long, dramatic yawn before hopping effortlessly into his waiting arms, nesting into the crook of his elbow with a satisfied purr.

“Looks like she’s had a long night,” Ghost remarks, stroking her soft fur. “We’re gonna turn in, regroup in the morning.”

A murmur of sleepy agreements passes through the team. Ghost gave one last nod before retreating toward the downstairs bedroom with Callie still draped in his arms like a queen.

There was some lighthearted bickering over who got the couch, but Soap eventually ends up being the one collapsing onto the plush sofa. The second his head hits the pile of soft pillows and blankets, sleep takes him. For the first time in a long, long time, everything feels strangely peaceful.

The next morning, Soap stirred awake to the low murmur of voices drifting from the kitchen. The warmth of the blankets still clung to him, and for a moment, he considered rolling over and slipping back into his peaceful sleep. The tempting scent of fresh coffee ends up winning out and he stretches with a groggy yawn. He pushes himself upright, blinking blearily at the cozy living room around him before making his way toward the voices.

As he stepped into the kitchen, he was immediately met with two pairs of eyes watching him. Ghost and Price sit at a small dining table, mugs in hand, their conversation cutting off when they see him enter. There was something unreadable in their expressions, as if they were waiting for something. 

Soap narrowed his eyes, suspicious. Then, movement out of the corner of his eye has him whipping his head towards the other side of the kitchen. When his head turns, his thoughts grind to a screeching halt.

A woman.

A stunning woman.

She turns toward him and for a moment, all he can do is stare, slack-jawed. She has warm, sun-kissed skin and striking green eyes that seem to glow under the soft kitchen light. Long, dark black hair cascades down her back, streaked with vibrant patches of orange and white. But that wasn’t what had him frozen.

It was the ears.

Perched atop her head were two pointed, fur-covered ears, flicking slightly as they registered his presence. Behind her, a long, bushy tail stood proudly, curling slightly at the tip. His eyes dared to dart lower. 

She was dressed casually, wearing an old tank top that effortlessly hugged her figure paired with sweatpants with a cutout for her tail. But it was her feet that made his brain short-circuit. At first, he thought she was wearing oddly realistic slippers, but no, those were definitely not slippers. 

They were actual cat paws.

Soap’s mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again. His brain finally clicked everything into place and suddenly, it all made way too much sense. His expression lit up in triumph as he spun on his heel, jabbing a finger towards Ghost.

“A-ha!”

Ghost let out a long, exhausted sigh, bringing a hand up to rub his temples. “Please don’t yell.”

Soap ignored him, grinning like a madman. “You said you didn’t have a bird!”

“He’s not wrong,” Price mused, smirking behind his coffee mug. “She’s definitely not a bird.”

Callie grins wickedly. “I eat birds.”

Soap crossed his arms, doubling down. “You also said you didn’t have a missus.”

The woman let out an amused hum, raising a delicate hand. “Not a missus either,” she purred, lips curling into a sharp smirk as she turned to Ghost. “You were right, master. This one is funny.”

Soap’s brain screeches to a second halt.

“Master?!” he gawks, whipping around to face Ghost like he had just grown a second head.

Ghost exhales through his nose, reaching for his tea like this entire conversation was already giving him a headache.

Soap took another second to let things sit in, completely stunned. Of all the things he had expected to find at Ghost’s house, this was not on the list. “Right. Okay. Just, hold on a minute.” Soap pinches the bridge of his nose like that would somehow help process the absolute madness in front of him. “So, let me get this straight. Ye’ve been lying to me this whole time? Playin’ me for a fool while I went on and on about you havin’ a secret missus?”

Ghost gives him a look over his mug, eyes flat and unimpressed. “Never lied to you, Johnny.”

Soap’s jaw drops. “Oh, bollocks ye didn’t!” He waves a hand at the woman, who was now watching him with an amused gleam in her eyes. “What’s all this then?”

Ghost takes another slow sip of tea, dragging it out just to piss him off, Soap is sure of it. “Told you I had a cat.”

Soap gawks at him. He turns to Price, who is doing a terrible job of hiding his smirk. Turning to the woman, her tail flicks lazily behind her as she sips from her own cup, utterly unbothered by his existential crisis.

Finally, his eyes settle on Gaz, who walks into the kitchen. He takes one look at the situation before sighing.

“Finally found out, huh?” He turned to the woman with an easy nod. “Morning, Callie.”

“Morning, Kyle,” she responds happily.

Soap whirls on him. “You knew too?!”

Gaz snorts, grabbing a cup from the counter and starting to pour himself some coffee. “Mate, everyone knew.”

Soap threw his hands in the air. “What the hell is wrong with all of you? How is this normal? This is not normal.”

A soft chuckle draws his attention back to Callie. “Relax, Johnny,” she teases, stepping closer. “You’re acting like you’ve never seen a shifter before.”

Soap takes a step back, bumping into the counter. “A what now?”

She arches a brow. “A shifter?” At his blank stare, she sighs, setting her cup down before gesturing to herself. “You know… a hybrid. A morph. I think in Japan I’m known as a nekomata.” She flicks her tail for emphasis. “Any of this ringing a bell?”

Soap blinks. Looks at Ghost. Back at her. Looks at her tail. Then back to Ghost.

“That's what all that racket was last night,” she says with a huff. “Sorry about that, by the way, I hope I didn’t scare you. Had to shift into my bigger form to deal with this nasty fox that's been causing issues and eating my chickens. Finally caught the fucker, so I called the neighbor's dogs for some assistance.”

Price chuckles at Soap's pale face. “Starting to make sense now, isn’t it?”

Soap once again jabs a finger at Ghost. “You… yer dating a bloody cat girl and just didn’t think to mention it?”

Ghost shrugged. “Not my fault you wouldn’t drop it.”

Callie grins, stepping even closer to Soap, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Would it make you feel better if I purred for you?”

Soap blanches. “Do not.”

Ghost sighs and stands up to put a steadying hand on her head. “Stop winding him up, love.”

She huffs playfully, ears and tail flicking in satisfaction. “Fine, fine.” Then she leans up on her toes and gives Ghost a quick peck on the cheek, right over the mask. “But you do make it too easy, Johnny.”

Soap slumps against the counter, dragging a hand over his face. He needed a drink or a nap. Probably both.

Price stands up, clapping him on the back with a chuckle. “You’ll get used to it.”

Soap peeks through his fingers at Ghost. The same Ghost who could make hardened men freeze with a single look was letting Callie nuzzle into him.

The contrast was striking. His harsh demeanor softened as he ran a gloved hand down Callie’s back. The sight pulled something deep into Soap’s chest, something warm and unfamiliar. His initial resistance crumbled instantly, and the fight left him like air from a punctured tire.

And yet, what he’s most surprised to realize, isn’t his surrender. Rather, it’s the quiet tug of longing that settled in its place.

Despite how comforting the kitchen now felt, reality was quick to settle back in. Price was the one to break up the moment, clearing his throat to grab the boy's attention. 

“Sorry to break this up, but we're going to be needed back at base today to give a debrief. Why don't we finish our drinks and be wheels up in 10?”

Soap pushes off the counter, glancing at Gaz, who is now determined to finish his coffee before they return to work mode. “I'll go grab my stuff.”

Callie, still tucked against Ghost's side, gives a small pout. “So soon? You boys just got here.”

Soap scoffs. “Aye, and I'm sure you’d love to keep watchin’ me lose my mind, but we do have jobs to get back to, lass.”  

She smirks. “Fair enough. But don’t be a stranger, Johnny.” 

Something in the way she says his name is light, a little teasing, but oddly warm. It makes his ears burn, and he quickly turns on his heel before anyone notices.

“It was really good to see you boys,” Soap can hear her say with a purr as he leaves the kitchen. “Promise you'll stay longer next time? Give me a chance to properly host you all?”

He hears the captain respond, but Price’s voice is too low to make out. A few minutes later, the team has their gear piled up in the living room, ready to head out. Ghost disappears into the downstairs bedroom while the others get things sorted.

Soap takes another slow look around the cozy space, trying to shake the weird sense of homeyness it leaves in his chest. He hadn't expected any of this, and he sure as hell didn't expect to feel… jealous? No, that couldn't be right. Whatever it is, it settles heavily in his stomach as he watches Ghost reappear, Callie trailing behind him with an easy grace.  

As they step outside, the crisp morning air cuts through the lingering warmth of the house, jolting Soap back into reality. Ghost pulls the door shut behind them, lingering there for a moment. Callie takes the opportunity to lean up on her feet, brushing a kiss against the side of his mask. He murmurs something to her, too low for Soap to hear, before stepping back and heading towards the car.  

Callie waves lazily as they load into the vehicle. “Safe travels, boys.”  

Soap leans his head against the window as Price pulls away, watching as Callie stands in the driveway, tail flicking. She stays there until they disappear down the road.  

Only then does he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.  

Gaz nudges him with a knowing smirk. “What’s got you all quiet?”  

Soap scowls. “Nothin’.”  

Price chuckles from the front seat. “Give it time.”  

Soap had no idea what he meant by that. But as he watches the road stretch ahead of them, the warmth of Ghost’s home fading into the distance, he has a sinking feeling he’s going to be thinking about this for a long time.

A/N: Thought I would post a little snippet of this story here on Tumblr since I've noticed that's where I'm finding a lot of other hybrid things. I think the full story might be too long to post here so I've got the full thing linked below! Thank you for reading! 💜

Completed story on: AO3 (18+)

Dining Room Minneapolis

Mid-sized elegant enclosed dining room with brown walls and a light wood floor

Updated:

Excuse me! I totally forgot about the scar on Lancelot's forehead...😖

It's okay now! 😌

Whew...

My deepest apologies for being late for Valentine's Day! 😖😔

I just really wanted to bring you some Trilance content!

.

🌵 Please enjoy! 🌵 😌

And once again!

Happy valentine's day! 😉

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+ A little headcanon:

Tristan keeps forcing Lance to wear warm clothes, particularly a hat, despite the latter claiming that he can turn into any animal with warm fur.

But they agree on winter fur headphones...😅😊

.Introduction.

—

Fandoms:

Gravity Falls

Lotf

Country/Planet humans

Vita Carnis

…(^–+–^)…

🐗 Just a person on the internet 🏹

An updated version - might go through more changes. :)

burn

It wasn’t about him. It was never about him.

In fact, she never meant for him to have any involvment in the matter, never meant for him to ever know about it. He was never meant to know anything.

It had started long before she ever knew him.

It started when her father had brought out a lighter one evening. He opened his pack of cigarettes and took a long drag, his shoulders relaxing. He sunk into the chair. He no longer cared about hiding his addiction from his daughter, playing with a doll idly on the carpeted floor, six years old and quiet as a mouse.

She was known for being a rather emotionless child. Not once had she laughed or grinned or cried. Her mother fretted about her, but her father didn’t mind. No tantrums was fine with him. The lack of feelings wasn’t a problem with him. She watched with glazed eyes as flaky ashes fell to the carpet. She stared at them as they floated gently to the floor, choking and coughing a bit from the fumes.

She stared even longer at the lighter. How could a fire be hiding in the tiny object?

Late into the night, she snuck into the living room where the lighter was still lying next to the ashtray, and stole it. The next morning, she hid it in her backpack and ran off into the woods to play.

It was yellow and shiny and had a grey top that flipped open. She immediately was fascinated, entranced. Her eyes lit up for the first time. It was so small, but had such power! When she mimicked her father’s motions, it let out a fizzling spark once, twice, thrice, and then burst into a tiny flame.

She knew what she was doing tomorrow. Her eyes burned with the fire she now possessed.

Her mother found the neighbor’s cat later that month, half-decomposed and covered in soot, and she had screamed. It was the kind of scream from a horror movie that got half-hearted reviews, one that never really sent shivers down your spine. It never even got under her skin. She didn’t care that she had been found out. The cat was annoying anyways. Her flames were bright, unstoppable, unable to be extinguished, and she would feed the fire until everything came down around her.

Years later, in her twenties, she met him. Her lover. He was sunny and bright and passionate and emotional and everything she wasn’t. He was her fire. She wanted him, in a way that she hadn’t wanted since she’d laid her eyes on that lighter over a decade ago.

And eventually, she got him. It seemed like she had attached herself to him, in a strange way. She wanted him to be hers, and only hers, but shied away from affection and emotion. She didn’t know how to respond to his hugs, how to smile for him. She didn’t know how to be genuine.

And that meant that she had to avoid him, and that meant that she left the house often, coat over her shoulders and lighter in her pocket.

She didn’t know what she wanted more, him or her fire. And that scared her.

She hadn’t known what it was like to be scared before.

She flicked the lighter, and threw it down on the large pile of dry grass and twigs at her feet. The willow tree sheltered the newborn flame, and it slowly climbed higher and higher. As it began to lick the tree top, she backed away to admire the light in the drizzling rain. Her light.

Her eyes gleamed.

Her fire burned.

Her lover still smiled for her when she came home. He smiled through watery eyes, and she wasn’t sure if it was from her late return or from the water drops tapping out a rhythm on the sidewalk or from the ash that clung to her shoulders, even through the rain. She didn’t know how to understand what he felt on their best days together.

He hugged her close and securely whenever she came home, and she responded the same. Her eyes were as dry as the Sahara, saved from the rain by her umbrella, glazed over with disinterest. Waiting for the next opportunity to buy another lighter. To buy more gasoline. To build a stack of sticks and grass. To relish in the newfound brightness.

To burn.

(She never thought about how he had had an umbrella of his own when she came out to greet him, and how his clothes were dry.)

She would set the world on fire just to watch it go ablaze, and she would smile the same smile she always had before. An answering smile. An answer to the questions, to the counselors at school and the dead cat her mother found covered in charcoal and gasoline, to the classmates who were afraid of her in kindergarten, to the prescriptions in her cabinet, ever fluorescent.

To her lover, whose eyes were still full of water on the sunniest day of the year. She still ignored the drip-dropping of water on her neck whenever they hugged.

(It wasn’t raining.)

(She didn’t know how to explain it, so she avoided it.)

(Sometimes, she thinks that he cries because he doesn’t know what to do anymore.)

He cried when she left and cried when she came home, and he cried when he was alone and cried when she was with him. He cried when she smelled like a campfire and when she had ashes sprinkled in her hair, and he cried when their budgeting started to include lighters and gasoline.

He cried every tear that she never could.

Sometimes she wished that she could cry for him instead. He must have been so dehydrated.

(For his birthday, she bought him a nice water bottle. “So you can stay hydrated. You cry an awful lot,” she said. He grinned and hugged her, then pulled away quickly.

“Thank you.” His lips were wobbly and saltwater streamed down his cheeks. She smelled like a campfire.)

She always had grey peppering her clothes. Her smile was subdued, but her eyes were distant and wild. Like they knew something. Like they had already watched the world burn down in their head a million times, and enjoyed every second.

A psychopath.

An arsonist.

Someone who burned trees and papers for fun. Someone who bought too many lighters in too little time. (The gas station attendant had never seen so many lighters be laid out on the checkout counter.) Someone who watched her lover cry and looked away with disinterest. Someone who didn’t leave the house one day to burn.

(He was still home, crying in the corner. She didn’t notice him until the end.)

Someone who never cried when she watched her lover scream and his tears evaporate, ugly crying, with eyes of crimson and half moon bruises underneath and snot running down his face, saltwater on his tongue and dripping off his chin just to go up and evaporate in flames and smoke.

Someone who died with her lover by accident and didn’t care. Someone who watched the flames with gleaming eyes until the end.

(Her eyes were still gleaming when they burned to the ground.)

#Updated

Chapters: 3/3 Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron) Characters: Keith (Voltron), Lance (Voltron), Pidge | Katie Holt, Hunk (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron), Coran (Voltron), Allura (Voltron), Nyma (Voltron), Rolo (Voltron), Bandor (Voltron), Sendak (Voltron) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - High School, Humor, Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Gay Keith (Voltron), Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Slurs, Alternate Universe - Football, the behavior he exhibited was gay. the bisexual jumped out, Pining Lance (Voltron), Mutual Pining, Diners, Disaster Gays, they're idiots jan, lowkey highkey crack, no beta we die like men, tags will update as we move along, Crack, more of a character study tbh Summary:

Lance was having a perfectly good day. Everything was great. He was happy, healthy, and convinced that today was just another win in the vault. He had expected to win, go home with his mom and nephew, and eat pizza. He hasn’t expected all of this to go down.

And he certainly didn’t expect this.

PIDGEON | lance, my dude

PIDGEON | keith is gay.

Lance read the message. Then he read it again. Then a third time. It takes a whole minute for him to read it over fifteen times, and another to process it.

Then he short-circuits.

  What the fuck.

  -

Lance McClain starts off the school year fine. He had the perfect plan: to bring his team to championships, get straight As, and to get through the year. What he hadn’t expected was for Keith Kogane to plummet into his life, ruin his plans, and makes Lance question everything he’s ever wanted in life.

🏆✨️ GOLDEN GLOBE AWARD WINNER SEBASTIAN STAN! ✨️

First artwork of the year is dedicated to Sebastian Stan and his SUPER well-deserved win from yesterday. If you know me, you knew I had to do something in commemoration of my favorite actor finally getting some recognition. 🩵

I know Sebastian doesn't really get into social media anymore (and for good reason honestly), but I sincerely hope someone lets him know how proud us his fans are of him. 🥹

UPDATE JAN 09: Okay, I admittedly rushed this one and wasn't very happy with the eyes and some other minor things after I had posted them, so I made adjustments. I can't modify the file on other sites unfortunately, but I can here, so I did xD

And just because I liked it too, I'll share the sketch below the cut :>

What if we rewrite the stars... (Say you were meant to be mine).

Type: Fanfic.

Rated: M.

Chapters: 13/?.

Tags: too many to count / as much as ao3 let me.

Part 1 of the series: “To dream is to defy, and to defy is to dream”.

Written by: defianceoftheendless

read here on ao3

What was the saying? Ah, yes, dreaming doesn't cost anything.

Well, what if it turned out that the concept of dreaming was much more than a concept? What if it was, in turn, a man behind glass, and there was once a girl who tried to set him free?

That girl's name was Esther Carrasco, and it turned out that dreaming cost her everything.

•

Where a new entity, known as the Defiant of Destinies, emerges from the spilled blood of a dreamer.

@le0thewe4id0

This is my old account

My phone got updated so this is my new account now!- everything that’s on there including my about me is still the same

Reblogging this again! Only because everything has been updated and tis purple now! ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

-Spooki ❤︎

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Hi there! Thank you for checking out my Tumble! My name is Spooki and if you enjoy my work consider checking out my other blogs below!

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SpookiKookiBoo: Main Blog

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Bygones: Casper the Friendly Ghost

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Five Nights at Freddy's: Ceaseless

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Gravity Falls: Inquire With Bill Cipher

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Bendy: The Illusion of Creation

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Eddie Dear's Post Office

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Unpleasant Dreams

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Commissions - ❤︎ OPEN ❤︎

(♡ DM me if interested! ♡)

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Hey gng, wanna let y'all know to block this guy's account bc he's been sending some pretty nasty shit to people from the Mouthwashing fandom, as well as some others (from what I've seen) ↓

Idk the other accounts this guy may have, but this is the only one I can find atm.

(Update: List of users to block is in the reblogs)

Hey gng, wanna let y'all know to block this guy's account bc he's been sending some pretty nasty shit to people from the Mouthwashing fandom, as well as some others (from what I've seen) ↓

Idk the other accounts this guy may have, but this is the only one I can find atm.

(Update: List of users to block is in the reblogs)

Hey gng, wanna let y'all know to block this guy's account bc he's been sending some pretty nasty shit to people from the Mouthwashing fandom, as well as some others (from what I've seen) ↓

Idk the other accounts this guy may have, but this is the only one I can find atm.

(Update: List of users to block is in the reblogs)

Hey gng, wanna let y'all know to block this guy's account bc he's been sending some pretty nasty shit to people from the Mouthwashing fandom, as well as some others (from what I've seen) ↓

Idk the other accounts this guy may have, but this is the only one I can find atm.

(Update: List of users to block is in the reblogs)