#Ain't Got Time For Messing Around [About Muse] | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

spookiesmausoleum · 1 month ago

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𝐌𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐖𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬

This is a game that has extremely heavy themes, so please be aware of that! There's some things said that are extremely dark within their own context, so discretion is advised. Also obvious dialogue spoilers for the game.

Remember to specify muse for multi-muses!

"I hope this hurts."

"The only thing that's worth than dyin' is not gettin' paid."

"Man. Pony Express bosses really aren't chill at all, huh?"

"C'mon. One look won't hurt."

"How exactly is this group therapy committee planning on getting in there?"

"I nearly corked a kid once!"

"You were goddamn born fully corked!"

"For better or worse I'm captain now. I'll figure it out."

"He doesn't want to keep still anymore."

"What about the pain killers?"

"...You did make it through nursing school right?"

"I'll take care of it."

"Why do you think he did it?"

"Does it matter? What answer would make you feel any better?

"I have to believe our worst moments don't make us monsters, [name]."

"He tried to take us all down with him, [name]."

"As I see it there's two reasons to keep him alive at this point. Guess the important bit is that we all agreed to it. For one reason or another."

"I'm workin'. Blue collar fools can't afford to stop working even when the machine does. Go figure."

"I ain't letting anyone else mess around in there."

"I warned her, but it was in one ear and out the other."

"Then there's that teeny bopper only thinkin' with his downstairs longnose just like my useless kids back home."

"Are we doing the right thing...?"

"...Are you listening?"

"Couldn't sleep again, but I passed the psych eval?"

"I do wish you'd open up a little more, [name]."

"He acts as if I do these things for fun."

"I've known him a long time. He won't try any bullshit with me."

"They can't expect me to work miracles!"

"I don't know what it means, but... it sounds like fun."

"Passed inspection, right? Shouldn't be an issue."

"I take it [name] diagnosed you with "being sane" then?"

"...How are things otherwise? Off the record."

"I like it. We're in control here."

"How come it always feels like you're standing on the edge of a bridge with your feet in cement?"

"Is this enough? Should I just stay here because I've been successful at it?"

"It's terrifying. I think, "Am I figured out? Is this all I'll ever be?" Or do I take the risk and try something new? Even if I'm bad at it."

"Hm. I guess I get it. You've reached the highest rung on this ladder and now you're thinkin' you might be on the wrong ladder altogether. Still a long way down from the top no matter how you look at it... While I'm still climbing and climbing."

"Hey I believe in you! Here. On Earth. Doesn't matter."

"...It's all mouthwash."

"I s'pose we'll smell good at least."

"Guess anyone could get seriously blasted off this stuff."

"Yeah and kill you in the process."

"...Hey. What's wrong?"

"That's all it said on the report from management. We will receive the paycheck for this delivery. I don't know anymore than that."

"...So I guess you got what you wanted. Without the guilt."

"...[name]. If I had known..."

"I can go back to my, how'd you put it? "Struggle of a life.""

"I'm just working on my life being a place I don't have to fucking escape!"

"We're the ones you're trying to escape! Leave the dirt behind now that your boots are clean."

"You just couldn't frame it to yourself in a way that still kept you as the hero."

"Let's have some fucking cake, hmm?"

"Come on. Stop with the noise."

"I know what everyone is thinking. The way they look at me. What can I even say?"

"I hope these make you feel fucking better."

"Take responsibility."

"Sometimes you can only get the subpar stuff. That' what makes the really good stuff, well, good, right?"

"Hey. We all tried to escape. It didn't work for any of us."

"I've thought many times, "Hey is this what peace feels like? And is this good enough?" If I'm being real it certainly isn't the best. So all I can try to do is make my life one I'm not trying to run from all the time."

"Mom found this internship for me. Such a slacker she said."

"I don't know. I just never know what I wanted to be. Never was good at anything."

"We're not done yet, [name]."

"Listen, listen! This is the best part. Aa-waay-oooo!"

"You're a mess, [name]."

"[name] pullin' the plug on the party before it's the last call!"

"you thinking about drinking that too?"

"Honestly, yeah. It'd probably just make me sick. Wouldn't fix anything, as much as I'd like it to."

"...You're not serious."

"Look I've entertained your sentimentality up until now, but I'm actually trying to fix things [name]!"

"...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"...I don't think I understood the pressure you were under before. Fuck. And you tried to tell me."

"Our worst moments don't make us monsters, huh?"

"I'll get us both through this."

"You heard [name]. I wouldn't put it past them to do something extreme right now."

"What would you have done?"

"Anything. Anything. You, the crew, you're all my responsibility."

"I know you'd never give me the gun to protect myself, so the least I can do... is make sure he never gets it either."

"...The bleeding won't stop. Just try to sit still [name]."

"It's alright, [name]. Calm down."

"I though you were dumber than a can of paint, always chewing me ear off about something. Useless ray of goddamn sunshine. Not an ace student, career workhorse or force of ambition. Just a damn good kid trying his best. You coulda taught an old fool like me a lot."

"Why can't any of you give me some time to fucking think!?"

"How do you still not understand? It's over. End of the fuckin' line."

"Take care of it."

"All I ever hear is how great of a leader you are. God, it's so annoying."

"Or this can be remembered as a tragedy. Despite what must have been the best efforts of it's acclaimed captain. The crew never found. No one survived to tell the tale."

"You're standing at the top. Feet in cement. I get it now. Right?"

"[Name], t-tell me you didn't."

"I won't give up on you, even like this, I believe in you. We're going to make it through this."

"I have something to say. So shut the fuck up and listen."

"So I got a collar shirt, a mortgage. Everything that makes a good man."

"I wanted to believe I was never one set-back away from my worst self."

"I've got nothing to hide. I'll face the music. I can see myself for what I am. But you? A cowardly, selfish motherfucker and you can't even see it."

"[Name]. I'm going to fix everything. We're going to make it."

"Fuck you."

"I know what you think of this predicament of yours. Poor you. Caged and misunderstood."

"Shut up. [Name] tried his best. I did too, but he's the better man."

"You really mean all that, huh?"

"I fucked up, but I can make things right."

"You always had my back. I ended up I ended up hurting you even though I was trying to save us."

"It's like you said, together we can fix anything."

#rp meme #sentence starters

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grandma-susan · 5 months ago

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❓️

Does my muse trust yours?

"What do you think I was born yesterday? You can trust certain demons with certain things that's it. It ain't that different from life. Alastor is one of those demons. He's good at what he does, and is man of habit to a certain extent and that means you can trust he's always scheming something and packing that back pocket of his. At the same time you can also trust he'll put on a decent show and is one hell of a time to tease if you get him on a good day."

Does my muse dislike yours?

"I think he's a boastful two faced buck with an ego to match. And his drinking habits kills the prim and proper gent he likes to put on, and turns him into a sopping wet blotto that you could throw and he'd be a 6foot Molotov. "

Would my muse kill someone for yours?

"And what and hurt his pride? I'd be hearing static and elk screeching for weeks."

Would my muse kill your muse?

"No, he doesn't look like he'd tastes good."

Would my muse save yours?

Susan lets out an exaggerated sigh, "What's with these damn questions about me saving people????? You got your own god damn alliances and lackeys what do you need me to save your arse for?" Susan if he were drop on your doorstep half dead would you?

>: ( "Well I ain't gonna eat him!" So that's a yes? "I don't want him messing up my porch!" So you'd fix him up? "I'D FEED HIM TO LEWIS!!!!"

Th-The monster under the shed? "DID I STUTTER?"

Does my muse find your muse attractive?

"No. His silhouette is fine, its his damn color scheme, his pinstripes, and the tacky rips he purposefully keeps in his jacket even though he goes to the tailor! The only thing he has going for him is his singing voice and his witty come backs and his confidence but even then its also bloated.....As he said so himself. His face was made for radio!" Susan does think he probably looked rather charming when he was alive, but not dead.

Is my muse disgusted by yours?

"No he cleans up after himself."

would my muse go on a date with your muse?

"Now why would he, when he has Rosie, Husker, Niffty and all the other people he talks to on a regular basis?"

would my muse kiss yours?

"Hahahah!" She would if it meant it would cause a funny reaction from him.

would my muse betray yours?

Flips through a random notebook, "No, no I don't see a written alliance or promise between him and me. So what's there to betray?"

my muse’s favorite thing about yours is ____

"Its funny when he walks around and he flips through the radio stations and you can hear the the notes drifting off of him like cologne."

the thing my muse dislikes about yours is_____ "The way he laughs, his HA! HAH! HAAA! Sometimes makes me want to shove my cane into his teeth. The amount of liquor he drinks. Stick a tap in him and he'd supply enough booze for a whole decade or two."

#ic #alteregozowie #we havent interacted much yet so I kind of just guessed!

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astramachina · 5 months ago

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Writerly Questionnaire

i was gonna snatch someone's open tag but @the-golden-comet (ty!!!) hit me with one so here we go. this is probs gonna get long and I apologize in advance.

About Me

When did you first start writing?

I was probably writing two page "sensationalized diary entries" when I was 8, but my first foray into proper "I am writing a piece of fiction" was at around 15.

Are the genres/themes you enjoy reading different from the ones you write?

Kind of but not really? I do enjoy reading a good romcom every now and then despite never having written one (and not intending to YET), but I mostly read horror and sci-fi which are my two genres of writing choice.

Is there an author (or just a fellow writer!) you want to emulate, or one to whom you’re often compared?

When I was younger I really wanted to be able to emulate Terry Pratchett's prose, but the more I wrote the more I realized there's no real emulation when it comes to one's own authorial voice, just bits and pieces of all of whom we've enjoyed along the way. Nowadays I don't really care for the idea of comparison, but if it's a must, Grady Hendrix's approach to blending horror with humor is golden.

Can you tell me a little about your writing space(s)? (Room, coffee shop, desk, etc.)

98% of active writing magic occurs in my bedroom, at my desk, mostly on my laptop because it's the only piece of tech with a word processor. When I'm feeling feisty, I'll light a scented candle (apple & cinnamon) and instantly give myself an allergy.

What’s your most effective way to muster up some muse?

MUSIC. Or taking a shower. Or chillin the backseat of a car with my headphones on. Growing up I had painted the words "movement inspires creation" on my closet door because car rides really were the prime way to summon The Muse.

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and places you write about?

Oh, absolutely. Sometimes it's more obvious than others! For example, Define Home to Me is a folk horror set in a fictionalized version of the town I grew up in. In The Unbinding, it's all about the familial tension that permeated my developmental years. I love writing modern day gothics for that very reason.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing, and if so, do they surprise you at all?

My characters? Queer. Usually POC. Sometimes disabled in ways that makes them moving through the plot impossible. A lot of the times there's some scathing commentary against colonialism and imperialism, trauma, generational nonsense, and so on. Do they surprise me? Yeah, actually. Like hey what are YOU doing here, this is supposed to be a story about space monsters and weird gas stations out in the American West, ain't nobody got time to study the decay manifested by settlers on my culture, the fuck.

My Characters

Would you please tell me about your current favorite character? (Current WIP, past WIP, never used, etc.)

UHH probably Ricky Kronbach? He's a fandom OC which means I'm able to play with him while being unbound by cohesive narratives. I can put him in a blender and he'll still manage to flip me off. He's a brat. He's a weirdo. He's everything to me. Non-fandom wise, probably Verne from The Singularity Project. He may be a side-character and a... anti-hero? Kind of? But he has my entire heart because my god he's a hot freaking mess of a human being.

Which of your characters do you think you’d be friends with in real life?

Probably Mike. He's a cool dude and by far the most normal. We'd talk about plants and watch The X-Files in his living room.

Which of your characters would you dislike the most if you met them?

Nick Miller from The Unbinding. He may be the MC but boy is a massive dick that needs to get his ass kicked into gear.

Tell me about the process of coming up with of one, all, or any of your characters.

I'm a very story-centric person, so a lot of the times story comes before the character. I'll have a solid plot and setting and when the time comes for a vehicle to move through said story, I get to work on the character. It's one of the reasons why I only wrote fanfic for so long! I'm bad at creating interesting and unique OCs so a lot of the times they're just some guy (gn), though they do tend to grow and sometimes throw fits when certain events want to take place that do not match their personality.

Do you notice any recurring themes/traits among your characters?

Not to me cringe on main but for a good two years I realized that the main love interests in multiple of my projects were 1) dark haired 2) blue-eyed 3) British. I'm still bewildered by this. Other than that, family trauma. LMAO

How do you picture them? (As real people you imagined, as models/actors who exist in real life, as imaginary artwork, as artwork you made or commissioned, anime style, etc.)

Depends on the project! TSP is a very special case in which I see half of the characters as actual real people. Other times I go with "actor faceclaims" so that it makes writing feel like a movie.

My Writing

What’s your reason for writing?

Fuck if I know. I just like doing it. It's this pit in the center of my chest that needs to be put the into word or else I feel like I'm going to explode.

Is there a specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating coming from your readers?

Give me those deep-dives into lore speculation. Or if it's something on the more risque side of things, I was feel a deep sense of satisfaction when commenters slip into the TMI scale of things.

How do you want to be thought of by those who read your work? (For example: as a literary genius, or as a writer who “gets” the human condition; as a talented worldbuilder, as a role model, etc.)

As the guy who makes people feel things while reading. Regardless of what feelings those might be.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Foreshadowing (usually accidental) and setting descriptions.

What have you been frequently told your greatest writing strength is by others?

"It's like I'm reading a movie," is something people have been telling me for well over a decade. Which is mainly the reason why part of TSP's story is visual! I want to try just how well the medium translates through my specific lens.

How do you feel about your own writing? (Answer in whatever way you interpret this question.)

The entire range of human emotion. I recognize that not everything can be (or should even be, for that matter) a banger. Some stuff is shitty, and I will hate, and I will feel unsatisfied, and will make me never want to write again. Other stuff makes me feel like I deserve at least some kind of award, even if the award is "a nice cup of coffee with a lemon loaf". Sometimes I'm proud of it, sometimes I'm not. Sometimes it's fun, and sometimes it's not. Not only is it alright but it is necessary to slip and slide along that spectrum. Which is to say-- I am satisfied whenever I engage in the craft.

If you were the last person on earth and knew your writing would never be read by another human, would you still write?

Hell yeah I would. I'm my own audience first and foremost.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely what you enjoy? If it’s a mix of the two, which holds the most influence?

I write for me, myself, and I, and actively choose to share that with others. I did my time of trying to write for a wider audience to appeal to the mainstream industry and that just ended up with me hating every damn moment of it, so here I am. Horror and sci-fi aren't as popular as other genres which usually translates to limited reach, but man, those who match my freak will match it, and that is all that matters.

I SAID THIS WOULD BE LONG. not gonna tag anyone's notifs so i'm leaving this baby as an open tag!

#texts.#tag game #long post

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ducknotinarow · 2 years ago

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❤️ for Rasey 2k12

| Send ❤️ to grab my muse and kiss the HELL out of them.

Oh sweet sweet freedom at last! Was Raphael's first thought the second he stepped foot out in the alleyway he was making how way into now from the manhole cover. He took in the biggest, deepest breath of smoggy, cool city air he could. Slightly coughing right after. Hard enough for tears to pickle at the corn of his eyes. He continued to scrambled his way out. Not wanting to waste a second or chance a change in Splinters mind about freeing him from grounding. He may be 18 and by human logic an adult. But by Splinter's logic he was still in his teens, a child and that meant when he broke crew few he was grounded. Well not to mention the bit of trouble he got into that caused him to break crew few if it had just been that? Then yeah Raph would have likely only just gotten a restriction on the crew few over not being allowed to leave for two weeks. And no visitors allowed either.

Raph started to scale up the fire escapes to make his way up to the roof, happily loving the feeling of the metals vibrating under his feet god he missed this. Fine it was only two weeks but that had been the longest he has gone with out the feeling of freedom! Though it was also the longest he has gone with out Casey. The worst part of that grounding period. Checking his phone for where they were meant to meet up. Just a couple blocks away. They wanted to make up for loss time, likely they would just tag some walls, maybe play some stick hockey. Well Raph was hoping for a different kind of hockey game as well. Didn't take him long to get to the run down little city park they were planing to be their meeting spot for the night.

Casey of course that big fuckin' sap was there already waiting up for Raphael. The turtle paused just looking out at his boyfriend. Bike resting up against the bike rack as they were doing the same against the play set. Raph just smirked to himself as he was about to jump right down to them, deciding to instead quietly make his way down to Casey. Foot steps light to avoid the slightest sound to give him away as he made his way up the play set. Stomach against cheap wood as he crawled over to the edge. Smirking at Casey from above reaching down to snag their bandanna sift and quickly jerking his arm back as he pulled it free from their head.

"aw bandit, ain't ya just cute there waitin' up for little 'ol me." casually twirling their bandana around his finger as he taunted them a little. "man you're so whipped." as if the turtle had any room to talk. He finally moved up to sit in the edge of the playset, before pushing off against it to drop down beside them. "Jeez someone might just think ya missed me or somethin' was only two weeks but I know hard to go with out me in yer life uh?" As if the turtle hadn't darted right out of the lair the second Splinter said he had served his time. Holding up their bandanna for them to take back. Only to jerk his arm away keeping just out from their reach.

Okay, he was still feeling just a bit in a mood to mess around with Casey. Blame it on going stir crazy locked up in the lair. Worse because all his brothers were able to go out all they had wanted too, and rubbed it in his face. He wasn't even allowed to train in the dojo outside daily practice! so pent up was also how he felt. And well Casey was his favorite person to mess around with which was why he was picking a fight already. Going to put their bandanna on top of his own head. Not out right calling attention to what he was doing more focused on poking fun at his boy friend. Moving in closer to them needing to lift to his tip toes as he took hold of Casey's hoodie tugging them down. Man he missed them so much, but he didn't go for a kiss nah he was still in a mood. Waiting for a sing that Casey was expecting the kiss as he grinned wide and with just so much grace, let out his tongue and licked it across Casey's face. Chuckling as he let them go and step back, in all fairness it was a bit of a show of affection just not very romantic.

Fingers moved to open up his mouth as he let his tongue hang out "what's a matter lover boy looking for a smooch? come and get it then." just a playful game of chase going on now as Raph was keeping just a bit of way from Casey's grasp, till tripping back over a balance beam on the playground falling back on his shell. Casey having him where he wanted. Raph paused to look up at them face slightly tinted with a blush as Case clambered over him keeping them down to the wood chips they were meant to act as padding for the place. Raph hand to wonder how humans thought wood chips were soft enough to fall on, as he was sure a few were jobbing him right now. Luckily his mind was taken off how uncomfortable they were, as Case got his hands on his face and started to plant kiss after kiss on to him. Raph could help the laugh that was working out from his shell right now. A soft low churr bubbled out from the back of his throat as he soaked in the affection. A near enough purr leavening him as Casey seemed to press his lips to every open spot he could on him. Raph Reached up to take hold of Casey's face in turn now. Sighing out as green eyes grew soft looking at them. "I miss ya too." moving to sit up now going in for a kiss when he once again took the chance to swipe his tongue up across Casey's face "Bleeh" he went on to say to add to the action unable to start how he laughed after, as he fell back on the wood chips with a laugh.

#muse| hamato rapheal #[ 2012 verse]#aflockoffeathers #madamkezzie #[ if you jump off a bridge its only cause i did first- aflockoffeathers]#send an emoji prompt #ic reply #Bandit - cause he calls casey a raccoon and they look like bandits dosen't help casey wears a black bandanna either uwu #lover boy is also another one he would call casey mostly mockingly sometimes soft uwu #((also casey sorry you either getting bitten or licked by raph at times uwu but hes just happy to see you promise))

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overx · 7 months ago

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Cale

If you were reborn as someone/something new, who or what would you want to be?

If you could meet someone who has died, who would it be?

How did you die?

What’s the last thing you remember before death?

Is the afterlife/undeath exactly as you pictured it to be?

Do you wish you were alive and mortal again?

Was Death frightening to you?

What have you learned since your death?

When you meet living people, are they afraid of you?

If you could be brought back to life, would you accept?

Ask My Muse About Death | Accepting!

If you were reborn as someone/something new, who or what would you want to be?

"I don't really want t' be someone new." Cale doesn't mean to sound irritated but it just comes out that way. This fun hypothetical feels a lot less fun to the already deceased. "I wish I had more time as me."

If you could meet someone who has died, who would it be?

"...a lot of people. Poets. Authors. Artists. Musicians. There's so much of our past that was buried t' make room for today." Cale sounds wistful, but bitter.

"Why were those books burned? Movies banned? Art destroyed?" Rhetorical when he already knows the answer. Knows that suppression comes before preservation. "There are love stories I'll never know. Architects whose names are gone. Myths. Recipes. Languages..." he notices only now that his fist is clenched, and relaxes the intangible tension. "...how can ya pick just one person, when every life has so much value, so much to teach? The mistake is believin' only some people have a story t' tell."

How did you die?

"...I... wasn't careful enough." He shifts, grasping at the incorporeal fabric of his hoodie. "Sometimes, ya trust the wrong people with the right information. I knew there would be a reward for my head eventually, just... thought I wasn't worth enough yet."

What’s the last thing you remember before death?

Morbid. Should have expected that in hindsight. "...gets fuzzy," he admits, though he might very well be tiptoeing around the subject. "The thing 'bout it is... not all your systems fail at once. Depends on where the damage is, y'know?" Maybe in that way, he's fairly human after all.

"Pretty sure some of my internals that write memories in the first place took a beatin' before I was actually 'dead' so... I sorta remember gettin' jumped but... if you're hopin' for some messed up play by play, you're outta luck."

Do you wish you were alive and mortal again?

"Every day." A pause, a frown. "The work ain't done yet. Had a lot of ambitions." I wanted to save the world. Reduced to nothing but a spectator. "Lots of things I left unsaid t' a lot of people." How many of them were left in the dark?

...how many of them still thought of him at all?

Was Death frightening to you?

"...no," it's said with a slow thoughtfulness. "...I found him... familiar. Comfortable, in a way. I prob'ly shouldn't have," an awkward laugh. "...but he reminds me of someone I know. It's... almost nice t' see him around sometimes..." a fond smile. "...his partner, too."

What have you learned since your death?

"Oh, lots of things," the android gestures vaguely with his hand to himself. "I mean primarily the fact robots have souls I guess," he sounds a bit sarcastic, but not at all meanspirited. "Or that there's an afterlife at all. Plenty 'bout myself too, but you don't have all day for that."

When you meet living people, are they afraid of you?

"...depends on the person. I think seein' any spirit can bother those that ain't used t' it. I'm just lucky 'm not the most gruesome lookin' guy floatin' around." He shrugs, for the most part unbothered. "Still get weird looks sometimes."

If you could be brought back to life, would you accept?

"....yes, but I'd... like a little warnin', first. Just cause I'm dead doesn't mean I've got nothin' goin' on. It's called the afterlife, y'know." A grin from the spirit. "There's at least one person I'd like some time with before that happens. He knows who he is."

#;a digital shadow #{cale}#[schematics]#long post

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galaxofmuses · 8 months ago

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❝ oh, yeah? and what are you gonna do about it? ❞ For Rai and Hunter, for the lad being a lil brat lol

prompts for muses who are Little Shits™ // Accepting!

"....What am I gonna do about it?"

The hedgehog turns around with gripped fists with an irritated growl at the young boy. Sure they are grumpy when it comes to Wuya's dirty work. Getting magical artifacts, even messing around with the doctor and the so called magical girl savior of Gaia. But dealing with his partner, his frienemy, the brat who burned down his home. He hates working with him, even if he barely tolerates it.

Every. Single. Day.

"What if I tear something that is precious to ya? Maybe that can shut ya up?"

Oh he can tear this kid into two if it wasn't for Raimundo's tricks and wind abilities. He doesn't know how these abilities work and he has no time how to even learn. Hunter only knows how to thrive by surviving from his feral instincts. Survival mode is on every day and the only times it gets turned off by his shelter in the forest...well which is now gone.

"Just because we been working for months doesn't mean we're buddy buddy each other ya got that? I don't have a crutch anymore and I can still kick your ass anytime when the old bag ain't around."

#:: Inbox Response; Always Be Curious ::#:: Answers to the Cosmos; Muse Answers ::#:: Ver; Villain; Hunter; Annihilation Never Looked So Good ::#champiionic #:: Hunter and Rai; The fence is as strong now as it was the day we met ::#dark themes tw #dark content cw #threat tw #injury mention cw

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diabelskoga · 9 months ago

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🛑 - She’s so soft and thankful for him, her hands tremble slightly.

send 🛑 to clean blood off of my muse after they protected yours. ( accepting! )

❝ Robin. ❞ It's muttered out softly, responding to the way her hands tremble slightly. As much as he loved being attended to by the ladies, there's something about her tremors that made him feel a bit concerned. Sanji protected her, knowing that a lot of things were on her plate at that time. He does not deny her strength, no sir. She was a force that no one should mess around with. A blooming tempest with strong winds, smooth and yet powerful. But he could not bear the thought of seeing some bastard cut her up into ribbons. Protecting her was worth it. They had to look after each other.

❝ It's okay... ❞ He grabbed her hand in his, squeezing it encouragingly and softly. He smiles at her softly. ❝ You did great out there, and so did I. But you don't gotta do this. I mean, I ain't complainin'. You got a soft touch and all. Though, I'll properly thank you with some tea, if that's cool? ❞

#bloominghands #[ ANS ] ── * ORDER UP ( 𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘬𝘰𝘨𝘢 )#[ VERSE ] ── * POST-TIME SKIP ( 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘸 𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘬 )#( robinnnnn *sobs* )

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dcviated · 2 years ago

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oh yeah rating time || [ open ]

put ¥ in my ask and my muse will rate your muse on a few things

@hallowleylines sent: ¥ Provence/Dogi, Anvil/Citrine, and Everitt/Malkuth (Feel free to make 'em whole or separate. I'm not your parents :V)

Dogi/Provence

Looks: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 Personality: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 Attraction: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Would they date them: yes | no "Not that I see it happening, but she's a fun gal with a nice body! Bit of an attitude to work around now and then but overall I can say I'd take her out for a drink or fun time. As a fellow messenger, you know she's a fellow fan of the wilderness." Favorite thing about them: "Her tail! Nah, I'm kiddin. Mostly! I do like it! Don't go pointing any crossbows at me... guess her sense of humor? Nice thing to have out in the wilds. Or maybe her shooting skills! Hell I can't pick." He laughs. Least favorite thing about them: "Provence ain't got the best attention span... sometimes feeling like I need to be a babysitter. Alright it's not that bad but with everything else you sure notice it."

Citrine/Anvil

Looks: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 Personality: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 Attraction: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Would they date them: yes | no "Uh, I'm not interested in guys and even if I was- I'm... terrified thinking of what would happen if Kal'tsit found out. No thanks! I don't need to get involved with that she already doesn't seem to like me much as it is! Anvil's a great guy though, she's lucky to have him!" Favorite thing about them: "A great work ethic. He and I can get so much done when we're left alone to work together. You should have seen us making chocolate the other month. I wish someone could have gotten that on film. Anvil's just a great friend. I wish we could be partners all the time." Least favorite thing about them: "Ah... well. That's hard because I'm pretty sure anything I say about them reflects on me too. They stay cooped up in their room or in the forge a lot?"

Malkuth/Current

Looks: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 Personality: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 Attraction: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Would they date them: yes | no "I love going out with him!! Valentines? Oh gosh it was the BEST one I've ever had! We should go out and do something like that again. Hehe~ Wait- you mean date as in- oh, um. Well... sure." Favorite thing about them: "Uhm. Even if they joke around a lot and do lots of things that can be pretty annoying. Current is really reliable. And. I appreciate it a lot that he's willing to listen to me." Least favorite thing about them: "AGH. Like so much else! He's so mean sometimes! I think he stalks me to figure out my weaknesses so he can just mess with them even more. HUFF! But. It's also kind of funny sometimes. I have to admit. So it's not all that bad."

#hallowleylines #inbox :: answered ic #muse :: dogi #muse :: raguna #muse :: malkuth #verse :: arknights #I give you all of them at once #one big bite of content #and buddies #valentines chocothon will be a moment to remember

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jack-is-lost · 2 years ago

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David x Michael

"I got in, I got into UC Berkeley."

"I got in, I got into UC Berkeley." David looked over to Michael, the broad smile on the burnet's face welcoming his gaze. The expression evidence alone that the other felt excited about this new prospect as he held the paper for the blond to see. Big bold letters reading CONGRATULATION strikingly large on the document. Despite this, knowing he ought to be cheering on his lover's success, David only hummed in response. A part of him is proud, of course he is, while another part seemed to distant itself — even if David couldn't place exactly what that feeling was. Jealousy? Envy? Nervousness? Fear? Michael lowered his hand as he noticed that familiar distant look, "What is it?" This wasn't their first time talking about him furthering his education. In the past, during Michael's whole senior year, it even seemed encouraged. Yet, within this moment, the reaction that had been expected fell flat and Michael didn't know why. "David?" "S' nothing. Forget it," David turned partially away while his gloved hand dug inside his coat to pull out a pack. With a cigarette between lips and a thumb striking the zippo, David continued. "Just a lot on my mind." The burnet stepped closer and grabbed the arm holding said lighter, stopping the ignited flames from reaching its destination. "Did you..." Michael dropped his hand as David set his sights on him again, "David, did you think I wasn't going to get in? Was this — I don't know, whole last year of you rooting me on just a game to you? Because..." Now the burnet was clenching the document in his hand tightly, the paper wrinkling into a mess as his lips set into a deep scowl. "If so that shit ain't funny. This is serious to me, David — you know that!" David watched the other start to unravel. A clear sign of frustration there, bubbling, overflowing to the surface — along with a mix of other's that he couldn't place. And why should he have expected any different? David knew better. Sighing through his nose, eyes closing for a brief moment of concentration, David reset his gaze on Michael with both hands on each shoulders — cigarette forgotten, and spoke calmly. "Michael," Gloved thumbs rubbed into the other's clothed shoulders to try and ease him. "Of course I'm happy for you. You've been at this for months. I'm—" David couldn't believe he was about to voice this thought, but pushed back the metaphorical walls threatening to build. "— I'm afraid." "What?" Michael blinked, confused. What did David have to be afraid of? "Why?" Both hands dropped from the burnet's shoulders and dove into deep pockets, clenching into fist hidden out of sight. "Afraid that you will find a life there, Michael. That you will," David's jaw flexed. "Decide to not come back to me."

The words settled into the air heavily, lingering. Michael searched his lover's gaze, eyes flickering for any speck of lies or signs of a mind game — there was just sorrow staring back at him. As if the vampire before him was already adjusting to this new truth — that he'd lose him. Without further hesitation, Michael swallowed the remaining distance and threw his arms around the blond, fingers pressing against a cool neck as lips collided. He could feel, with every passing second, David relaxing into the embrace — returning the kiss with strong hands pressing into his lower back.

After a moment passed, as Michael warm breath fanned over David's lips, the blond opened his eyes at the sound of the other chuckling. He corked a brow, amused, and it only made Michael laugh more. "What is it?"

"You." "Me?" "Yes, you," Michael leaned slightly back but didn't remove his arms from around David's shoulders. "You can be such an idiot sometimes." "Careful now," David mused while leaning forward, nose running along the other's neck while hiding a smirk. "This idiot is prone to biting."

_________________________________________________

Send me a ship and a sentence, I'll write the next five!

#I got a little carried away with this one #my writing #95060 #ask and you shall receive #david x michael #the lost boys #mutuals #racheld93

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murfpersonalblog · 6 months ago

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IWTV S2 Ep4 Musings - Loustat & Loumand

Ah crap. The ONE thing he really enjoys, and could probably get very good at--but he's stuck with garbage exposure and weak flash, cuz he can only take nighttime photos. U_U

UNHINGED. 😭😭😭 Lestat's become his best friend / supportive soundboard / feral golden retriever eating all his photos, omg. XD

Lou thinks the only right photos are of Lestat, I'm gonna be SICK. 😍 (Sam's accent was odd--he sounded less French??? Or am I tripping?)

Louis telling himself he needs to have more patience with the logistics of nocturnal life--and all that implies. So does that mean he wants to have more patience w/ the coven (& Armand) cuz he knows he can't hang out with humans like other artists do?

Lestat busting a gut every time Armand shows up is KILLING me. 🤣

The Time-Stop Gift is SO FREAKING cool; I love how they find these actors who can stay so still! Are they mimes or something!?

Louis loves himself a senior citizen; his husbands get older & older!

GET HIM, LOUIS!!! We ain't impressed! 😤 (Well, EYE am, ngl, but you stand your ground, Lou, that's right!)

Scared the mess outta me for a second, omg. 😅

Yeah, well, your coven sucks, Armand, so.

I disagree--I think that was the best, nastiest thing he could've done.

The next scene was so spicy I had to make a separate post for Armand's Backstory.

AMC.... Don't you effing dare.

That is a WILD fire hazard, omg--at least do that in the kitchen, Lou.

Before or after meeting Armand? I NEED ANSWERS, AMC!

LOUIS called Armand a manipulative gremlin!? 😂

Louis, you walk that back RIGHT NOW!

Yea, it was NUTS that Louis never told her that Armand was in on their secret.

Spilled like a leaky faucet, yes. U_U

To quote your beloved hallucinations: "Let me tell you a little something about 18th century Armand~!" 👀💀 Chile, lemme tell you about 18 MINUTES ago Armand, tossing Santiago around in public!

This could've been the running theme instead of Memory is a Monster. 😅 (I'm SHOCKED DreamStat has nothing to say from the peanut gallery. Seems he only shows up when Armand's around.)

Ouch.

CRAZY how Louis' already in like the 5th stage of grief, accepting DreamStat as some buddy ole pal. Walking in the park, chatting on park benches like they used to do back in NOLA. (But also accepting that he HAS to let DreamStat go, if he wants to survive in Paris & build something with Armand.)

He still thinks he's a "wh*re," doomed to be out cheating. U_U

WOW! So the night Les chased Jelly Roll Morton out of town was probably the night Lou realized he was REALLY in love, I reckon. U_U

Is that TRUE, or just what Louis wishes was true? (I bet it's true.) Les carried Lou's monogrammed hanky, daw. :3

MORE delusion--Louis, you couldn't even run your own family, let alone a pack of 14 Old World vamps who have ZERO reason to parlay with you--America is a totally different situation than Europe! The vamps out there are VICIOUS, cuz they INVENTED viciousness! Louis just gassed Armand up into thinking they had the upper hand, blissfully ignorant that Santiago just got ALL the dirt on him, smdh.

Ohhhh....THAT'S what Lou calls him in bed! 🤭 This is so touching & sweet, as Lou's like: You are ARUN, you're a PERSON, born with the human right to have hopes, dreams, desires, wants. Eff what Coven Master Armand & rentboy Amadeo did. What do YOU want, as ARUN? TABULA RASA. I love that for him! ❤

😲🤯

Armand calling Louis Maitre!? DADDY LOU IS BACK! 😈 That's right, you toss that lighter over your shoulder; you've MASTERED the Fire Gift! 🔥 (They grow up so fast~! 😭)

Armand wants to follow Lou's lead, let him take control. "I serve a God." Armand is TIRED of leading, he needs someone to follow; something to believe in. He always needs to have something he can devote his attention to--Lestat & Gabrielle read him for filth about this in several books; esp. Memnoch.

Cuz these are vamps; soul-sucking leeches. Loumand's codependent to a fault. Two vines wrapped so tight around e/o that they'll eventually strangle any life/vitality out of e/o--and you can see that toxicity bubbling to the surface in their huge argument at the end of the ep. They broke up in the books for a reason--Armand NEEDED to find himself (find ARUN, his human soul/identity), too. A coven's a poor substitute for a FAMILY, which he finally got with Sybelle & Benji, Daniel & Marius. This isn't even the tip of the iceberg--but it's a start. 👍

#loumand #loustat #the vampire armand #interview with the vampire #iwtv tvc metas #must see tv #the hype is real

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twstwonderlandstuff · 2 years ago

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"wow." valie hums, looking at an uncharacteristically moping Albedo. "someone's got mad blues."

"please do not joke around." albedo grouses. "I fear there's something wrong with me."

"yeah, we can tell." grim muses, scurrying over to nudge the alchemist's foot. "aren't ya gonna say anythin'?"

"locking up your feelings is bad, Mr. albedo~ you of all people should know that." valie chides gently, walking over the defeated man.

"it's..." albedo fumbles with his words. "it's complicated."

"uh huh..."

"sucrose came with kazuha today, and..." albedo falls silent, and continues speaking only after an encouraging hum from grim.

"I feel irrationally... irritated." immediately, a small smug smile creeps onto valie's face.

"oh, I see." he joyfully smiles, cackles, even, at albedo's relevation. "sucrose came to work, as per usual, with someone else in tow and you, prince-" albedo gives her a semi-annoyed look, which valie shoots back with a finger to his lips. "-are annoyed. now, doesn't that remind you of something?"

"what."

"shhh grim, I'm trying to make it dramatic - come on mr. albedo, you're the smart dude 'round here, you know what I'm talking about!"

albedo suddenly moves his head rigidly to the side. "I don't."

"you do."

"I most certainly do not."

"you DO! it's the lil' firecracker's story! klee wrote about a pair of lovers who got jealous because someone got in their way, right?"

"..."

"which means..." valie's eyes meets grim, and the feline lights up.

"OH! 'yer jealous cuz sucrose' spendin' time with another person that ain't you!"

"you're je-a-lous, mr. albedo~" valie concludes, snickering. "how cute~ and you know why, right?"

before albedo can get a word edgewise, grim cuts in. "it's cuz' ya got-"

"-a crush on sucrose~!" valie finishes in a sing-song voice, bursting into a fit of laughter. "oh, how cute, how CUTE! this is SO fun!! actually, grimmy, how about we take a dip an' see how they're doing right now?"

"now that ya say it, henchman," grim looks back at albedo with a mischevious grin. "why don't we bring him along, hmm? we'll let 'im face his problem head on."

"atta boy, kitty!" valie cooes, rubbing grim's head as she stands up and pushes albedo outside.

"wait, please-" aaand they're already outside, sucrose waving at the distance, with kazuha seen vaguely behind her.

"well, that's our cue to leave! may the wind guide you, mr. albedo, as the mondsadt people say!" valie gives him a cheery grin, and runs off to the adventurer's guild.

"can't wait to hear how bad you mess up!" grim cackles cheekily, stickings its tongue out as its follows valie, tail swaying playfully behind.

their efforts are not in vain as hours later, upon their travels, they stumble upon albedo and sucrose, cuddled up together behind a tree.

"we HAVE to get mr. albedo to spill." valie whispers as she lines up the ghost camera for the shot.

"you do that." grim yawns, crawling over to the pair. " i'mma crash in."

"aww, you- alright, you're in the frame too, dork."

#valencia karasu #wrote this as the idea struck #albedo #sucrose #genshin impact #albecrose #albedo x sucrose #twst grim #twisted wonderland #essentially #valie and grim get teleported to genshin and they (like the traveler) befriend people as they go about their journey to... who knows?#HEHEHe even I DON'T KNOW

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liibrii · 4 years ago

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fem!Miya!Reader & Miya family

Part of the Third Miya Series

Synopsis: Three is a weird number. It's only two units bigger than one and only a unit more than two and yet it seems to be so much more, especially when the three in question are toddlers needed to be dressed for kindergarten.

wc: 2.1k

a/n: baby Miyas, the ultimate serotonin providers 🙃 if you wanna be tagged in future chapters let me know, and as always feedback is greatly appreciated!

Mrs Miya has always trusted her gut feeling and in that moment it was telling her the bathroom was down the corridor, last door on the left, and, just as Mr Miya had told her that morning, eating leftover curry for breakfast was a dreadful idea.

Doctor repeats her words and Mrs Miya's neck becomes completely stiff. If it wouldn't she'd perhaps be able to look at her husband whose face turned ashen pale. “Triplets?“

Well, this will take buy one get one for free jokes on a whole new level.

Doctor's words are just buzzing and the soon to be Miya parents nod and smile and nod and hold on each others' hand as if there's no tomorrow. They're silent on the way out.

Mr Miya turns to his wife. “Do they even sell strollers for three kids?”

Three is a weird number. It's only two units bigger than one and only a unit more than two and yet it seems to be so much more, especially when the three in question are toddlers needed to be dressed for daycare.

You all wear the same colours because Atsumu would throw a tantrum if your jumper wasn't the same colour as his and you would throw a tantrum when yours was a different colour than Osamu's, who in turn would throw a tantrum because his jumper was now the same colour as Atsumu's.

Mrs Miya had read advices that one should always dress their twins (or, in this case, triplets) differently as it is good for their personality development; which is all well and good and a great advice, except that whoever wrote it forgot to take into account that two and a half out of her three children saw being dressed differently as their siblings as a horrific violation of their toddler rights.

Your parents tell themselves one day you'll grow out of this phase, but till then mom stitches little numbers one, two, and three on the edges of your clothes. She did start stitching your names, but with only two pairs of hands in the house and three little sprouts in constant need of attention there was never enough time to finish them.

“One,“ says Mr Miya and Atsumu raises his hands.

“Ichi!“ he proudly chimes.

“Two,“ Mr Miya grabs you before you'd crawl out of the reach of his arms.

“Ni!“ like his brother Osamu too raises his chubby fists, but only halfway.

“And three!”

“San!“ You hug your dad's neck, perhaps hoping that will get you out of having to wear socks.

And heaven forbid they ever messed up which jumper belonged to whom. It was beyond your parents' wisdom how you could tell the number stitched on the edge was not the same they said when counting your heads, but you could.

“Must be yer superpower,“ jokes Mr Miya while changing your sweater that has the wrong number on the edge. He barely pulls it off when Atsumu's chubby hands already grab it and begin pulling it over his head. He screams when his father offers to help, pouting even if he's completely lost between the left sleeve and the opening for the head.

“Alright buddy,“ muses Mr Miya and turns his attention to Osamu who already pulled his socks off so, naturally, now you've mysteriously lost one of your socks too. Mr Miya sighs. Maybe it's time to let his boss know he's going to be late.

Three is an enormous number, when the three in question are a feverish toddler in your arms and two more running around doctor's office. Perhaps it was time to ask the daycare to put you three into different groups. That will cause an outrage, oh ever since the 'One child, one pillow' incident Mrs Miya is well aware of that. But then again, better that than all of you throwing a tantrum when only one got to leave the daycare early.

“One, two, three,“ she counts your heads under her breath, then hurries over to where you just picked up a very interesting small stone that probably fell from the soles of someone's shoes, “San! I mean y/n, sweetie, that's a stone. See, it's rough and cold.“ You whine when she takes the treasure from you but still listen closely to her words that spark Atsumu's interest too, and he trots closer to see what is happening. Thankfully feverish Osamu has fallen asleep in her arms. Really, the last thing she needs is his firm conviction the stone is just greyish candy. Mrs Miya still lets Atsumu take the stone in his hands. “No,“ she grabs his hand when he lifts it towards his mouth that is already curving into a grimace. “Hey, hey, no need to cry over it sweetie. Yer gonna wake up yer brother and he needs sleep right now.“

“Is he sick?” your tiny voice chimes in. Mrs Miya nods. “Because he ate melon seeds,“ you nod with all the wisdom of a 3 year old. “He's growin' melons in his tum-tum,“ you tell Atsumu whose wide eyes blink twice before he bursts into tears.

“One, two, three,“ Mrs Miya counts your heads while you play around the house. If you hide from her sight sooner or later screaming and crying alerts her something happened. A moment later Mr Miya returns to the living room with a very much red faced and screaming Atsumu in his arms.

“What happened?“ she asks, crouching down to console you, also crying because there's no way you'd let your brother scream his lungs out by himself.

“Ah the usual,“ he places the scissors on the counter, “wouldn't let him shred his shirt. Osamu, no!“ He quickly grabs his other son who also starts crying, shocked that his own father would take the lost sock from him before he got the chance to find out how it tastes.

Ah, just another Sunday.

The good thing about three children running around is they're never lonely. There are always games to play, fights to win, faces to colour. Most of the days all of you exhaust yours (sometimes apparently infinite) supplies of energy by the time evening falls. Mr Miya puts you to bed (one bed, because trying to make you sleep in separate cribs is apparently a disgusting violation of Toddler convention) before he collapses beside his wife.

“Asleep?“ she asks.

Mr Miya hums. “For now.“

The moment they turn the lights off slide door across the hallway open. Light steps cross the dangerous waters of the dark hallway, enter the bedroom and climb over Mr Miya to the safe haven between the parents.

“Bad dreams?“ asks Mrs Miya. In response Osamu sniffles and snuggles closer. Not a minute passes when two more pairs of legs pass through the darkness of the hallway and climb to be beside their brother. You shriek when Atsumu pushes his cold feet on your back, but dad's stern word makes you stop. A few moments later you're all asleep.

“One, two, three,“ sleepily mumbles Mrs Miya, patting each of your heads.

“Four,“ says Mr Miya and his wife giggles.

Three is the number of band-aid packages your parents buy per month. Ever since you've grown for about a chopstick taller, well you only grew for about three thirds of a chopstick because nature thought it would be funny if you got outgrown by your brothers at the tender age of 5, it turned out the tall tree in the park could in fact be climbed, if you climbed on someone's shoulders and then pull them on the lowest branch. Sadly the branches aren't big fans of being climbed on but no amount of scratches and falls could stop you from trying.

“A champignon never stops tryin'!“ proclaims Atsumu after the failed attempt that left bark in his hair and Osamu laughing on the branch.

“What's a champignon?“ you ask.

“It's the person who's the best! It's what I'll be one day!“

Osamu snorts, firmly grabbing on the thin branch he's sitting on. “Champignon's a mushroom.“

“No it ain't!“

A mushroom, you make a little note in your memory, because no matter how much Atsumu protests you're more inclined to believe Osamu when it comes to mushrooms.

Your heads turn when you hear mom calling and waving, waiting for Osamu to climb down before running over to her.

“I win!“ announces Atsumu despite Osamu reaching her first.

“Why, because yer a champignon?“

“Are we all here?“ loudly asks Mr Miya before his boys could jump into each other's hair, “identify yerselves!“

“One!“ calls Atsumu.

“Two!“ calls Osamu, louder.

“Three!“ you call and jump, because being louder than them was never an option.

Four heads turn to Mrs Miya. “Mom,“ she raises her hand.

“Excellent!“ proclaims Mr Miya as three small voices cheer. “Then we can get goin'!“

“Where to?“ you ask.

Mr Miya picks up a stick and starts drawing lines in the sand covering the path. “It's a secret but maybe ya can guess, we'll go down this path-“

“A treasure hunt!”

“Almost. At the fountain we'll turn left, and what lies down the fountain path?“

“Pigeons?“ you try guessing.

Osamu bumps his fist on the open palm. “Ice cream stand!“

Mr Miya nods.

“Last one there's a loser!“ shouts Atsumu who starts running before even finishing the sentence. Osamu immediately follows, both ignoring your shouts to wait up.

Three is a funny number. It only works when the two and one have the third , because otherwise it's just one and two. Like a clover that got munched on by a picky rabbit that tried a leaf and then decided it doesn't fit its taste.

Volleyball sort of became the rabbit munching on the clover. One day teachers simply decided you're not allowed to play on the same team as your brothers anymore. And no amount of crying, screaming and sulking could convince the rabbit to give the leaf back.

“Maybe we can sneak ya in,“ suggests Atsumu one night, “all ya hafta do is wear our clothes. No one will know!“

So you try that and funnily enough, people do notice when one and two together make a three, and what surprises children even more is that parents also notice when they return late from school because they had to stay in detention. And as if cleaning the school hallways for a month wasn't enough, now they have to clean the house too.

It is however enough to discourage you from trying to sneak into practice again, so you stick with only coming to games and waiting for their practice to end so you can walk home together. From time to time some of their teammates stop to say hello or to complain to you about their shenanigans, but that's knowledge you hold to yourself, since you never knew when blackmail material might come in handy.

It's only when Osamu teases they get to go to a volleyball workshop and you don't that you get envious.

“It sounds stupid anyway,“ you try pretending you couldn't care less.

“It would be perfect for ya then,“ Osamu shots back and sprints away as you dive after him.

Maybe you are just a teensy bit envious, still as long as you get to play with them when they are home it's not that bad. After returning from their workshops you don't even let them take their shoes off before dragging them to the volleyball net dad set up in the garden. You stand where you always stand, by the net so you can throw balls for them to hit over.

Atsumu pushes you away. “No, this is my position now. I wanna be a setter.“

You don' mind, and throw the ball towards Atsumu who sends it back into a bit of an awkward place and you end up not even hitting it.

Osamu bursts into laughter. “Ya suck.“ He jumps to avoid the kick aimed at his knee. “We play with good players now so yer gonna hafta practice more. There was this tall player with a cool name! Right, Tsumu?“

“Tsumu?“ you repeat.

“Tsumu and Samu. It's our names but they sound way cooler now!“ proudly declares Atsumu.

Your eyes widen in admiration. “I want that too! What should I call myself?“

“Yer always copyin' us,“ complains Osamu but he gets ignored as the first name Atsumu suggests earns him a ball to the face.

“Oh I know!“ You bump your fist on your open palm. “I'll be San!“

Atsumu thinks it over with the same expression Osamu has when trying to decide which udon toppings to order. “San,... Y/n... San,... It sounds so cool! Whaddaja think Samu?“

Osamu shrugs. “San, let me show ya how to spike the ball properly.“

tag list: @espressons @trashy-simp @nachotrash

#miya twins #miya twins x sibling reader #miya atsumu #miya osamu #miya atsumu x reader #hqcorenet #miya osamu x reader #miya family #hq #haikyuu #haikyuu x platonic reader #inarizaki #inarizaki x platonic reader #the third miya #libri scribbles #also big thanks to tumblr for destroying the quality of the banner -.-

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oftenderweapons · 4 years ago

Text

Mold Me New (5) — Kim Taehyung

A Small Town Swoons Story

Pairing: Taehyung x reader (nicknamed Frog — for now)

Wordcount: 5.2k

Genre: ceramic artist!Taehyung, divorced!reader, Strangers to Lovers, Fluff, Smut, Slice of Life

Rating: 18+

Hello to my readers!!! Welcome to the Small Town Swoons Universe!🥰✨

In this episode: Frog gets to see the final results of her hard work. Taehyung, feeling extremely proud of her, is in the mood for celebation. He invites her for dinner, but eventually the lasagna in the oven is not the only tthing getting hot — and the cheesecake is not the only sweet thing on the menu.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: swearing. mentions of alcohol. smut: making out, grinding, humping, groping (ass, breasts) hair tugging, fingering, very soft overgrown teenagers being inappropriate and horny and tenderly feral on the sofa. Also cramps cause topping ain't easy folks.

A special thank you to @taegularities, my cutest, most adorable, Taehyung stan, The Radiant Rid. I love you, babe. Can't wait to read your next masterpiece 💕

In case you like my writing, here is my directory for idol!AUs, scenarios and imagines. And in case you need it, here’s the Spotify music companion.

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

Enjoy 💜✨

You were falling for Kim Taehyung.

This was by far an undoubtable truth, like the butterflies in your stomach, like the softness of his hair and the plump curve of his lip, like the excruciating, painfully perfect beauty of his face.

He was a gift to humankind, you realised.

You were sure that by now your heart eyes showed in a three-mile radius, and from the way he looked at you in return, you could tell the sentiment was somehow returned.

What made you insecure was his lack of initiative.

You noticed he enjoyed being on the receiving end — which had actually shown a few days before, when he’d fallen asleep in the comfort of your lap, you reading your book while he recovered from the stressful day.

You could still remember the soft golden light coming in through the window, the way his breath got heavy with sleep, his hand laying just an inch above your knee, growing clammy with sweat as he heated up under the blanket. And the feel of his fluffy locks under your fingertips.

He’d looked adorable, a gentle blush on his cheeks, his cherub face relaxing, chubby and plump with the sweet abandon of sleep.

His hands suddenly laid delicately atop yours. “The kiln has cooled up. Would you like to see?” Taehyung asked quietly, trying not to wake you from your reverie too abruptly.

“Oh, yes!” you replied as briefly as possible, hoping he didn’t catch you daydreaming while staring at him with a fond expression.

“Be very careful, they’re hot,” he said, lifting the top of the kiln slowly and letting the remaining hot air come out a bit at a time, without having to feel the heat hit his face.

“Are they going to be good?” you asked curiously. Not all your pieces had made it through bisque firing, and the idea of having something that actually looked like a finished, real work of art was getting you excited. You had been taking lessons for six weeks now and it felt about time to see some results.

“I think I can spot a good one,” he mused as he lifted the lid, bright blue glaze immediately catching your attention.

“Did the bowl survive? The one with the golden swirls? Please, tell me it did, I love it so much!” You felt ready to beg, pray, cry if something had gone wrong.

“It’s on the middle shelf. Be patient, you golden retriever,” he joked, wearing a pair of latex gloves to make sure the temperature was okay without damaging the glaze.

“It was my first to survive bisque, I am invested!” you argued back, peering from over his shoulder, noticing that your vase for Terry had survived.

“Vase accomplished, Frog. You should be excited about that one,” he said, moving it to a shelf. “It means you worked it nicely.”

You shrugged. It was one of your latest pieces, so you weren’t too surprised about it. Still, considering that shaping a vase with consistent walls is a feat in itself, you smirked. “You taught me well.”

“I did,” he replied, lifting a large, low bonsai plate. “Ready to see your bowl, Frog?”

“If anything happened to it, I’m going to kill you.”

Taehyung turned to you, grinning, his nose scrunched in a way that made you sure you would never lift a finger on him.

Your eyes closed: because you were nervous about the bowl, you told yourself — not because you couldn’t stand Taehyung’s expression without pressing your lips to his.

He lifted the shelf from the kiln. He turned to look at you.

He did not resist.

It was like you were waiting for him to kiss you, fist pressed underneath your chin, eyes screwed shut in excitement and fear.

He touched his lips to the apple of your cheek. Your eyes shot open, but the gentleness on his face calmed you. “Congratulations, miss Frog, you have a beautiful blue baby,” he declared in a very medical fashion.

You threw your arms around him, jumping up and down as you giggled hysterically.

“And she cheers for the bowl,” he said, shaking his head in disappointment. “As if she could mess it up after that vase.”

“Screw the damned vase, show me my baby,” you said, going grabby hands to the kiln.

“No, Frog. Wait,” he said, picking up the piece and bringing it to the table, you in tow like a tail-wadding, restless puppy.

“It’s so pretty,” you mused as soon as he set the bowl down. “It’s so sparkly. So glittery. Taehyung, it’s perfect,” you whispered in awe, feeling tears well up in your eyes as you turned to him.

Fondness overwhelmed him as he saw your amused look, so dreamy and happy and satisfied.

It was your baby. Your special creature. Selfishly, he felt like he had contributed to the creation.

For a second he thought that’s what it must feel like to be a father. “Watch over it while I finish the rest,” he said, taking a step away.

You grabbed his wrist.

He turned, waiting for you to explain.

“Thank you,” you murmured, voice emotional.

He twisted his arm in your grip until his hand could reach for yours, engulfing it.

And right in that second, he felt he belonged. Somehow crazily, stupidly, innocently, he felt at home. “Anytime, darling.” He rubbed his thumb against your inner wrist before letting you go. He still had half a kiln to unload.

Bowls and mugs came out easily, some of them even presenting unintended variations that would for sure attract buyers. He felt proud.

But most of all, he wanted to go back to your bowl, to you worshipping it like a little miracle, the poor vase sitting unattended on a high shelf, out of harm’s way.

He closed the lid and took the vase, bringing it to you and placing it on the table.

“You did a very good job, Frog,” he complimented you, placing his hand close to yours, hoping to rekindle the affection he had felt only a few minutes ago.

“It’s not like I did it by myself,” you admitted, beaming up at him.

“Stay for dinner,” he blurted out, “Seokjin brought a cheesecake this morning, I still have half of it. And I have his lasagna in the freezer. We could cook it and eat that — I don’t trust myself making anything edible.”

You snickered. “You don't want me to cook?”

He shook his head. “I wanted to… To celebrate.”

You smiled, standing up, his mouth right before your eyes, “What are we celebrating?”

He looked at your lips as they moved. “The vase,” he replied seriously, although the tone of his voice meant a thousand other things.

“Of course,” you conceded. “Let’s go. I’m hungry,” you confessed, grabbing his hand, tugging at his arm.

Taehyung could swear he was floating a foot off the ground out of happiness. He realised he’d been happier than usual lately; he’d been selling more pieces and his part time job was finally giving him some satisfaction.

He felt like he was drifting across the kitchen as he put his phone in a wooden box as an amplifier, playing an old jazz tune as he put the lasagna in the oven.

You sat at the table, watching him move around with a small smile, your head leaning on your palm. You were such a sucker.

“Wine?”

You shook your head. “You’re gonna get me drunk,” you smiled.

He sat at your side, “why not,” he teased, “just vaguely tipsy. I promise I’ll be a gentleman.” He placed a hand on his heart and bowed his head slowly.

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” you murmured, looking down before meeting his eyes again.

He licked his lips. “Who is it, then?”

“Me.”

“What about you?” His fingers skimmed the surface of the table, sliding all the way to your elbow and tracing your inner forearm.

A shiver ran down your spine. “I get clingy. And slightly inappropriate,” you chuckled embarrassedly.

“I could never be bothered by that,” he whispered, wrapping his fingers around your wrist. “I bet you’d look so adorable.” His hand opted to cup the back of yours before you slipped your hand away, making his palm touch your cheek instead, your face leaning in. “Which would make you absolutely irresistible,” he admitted, nodding fondly at your display of trust.

“Thank you,” you replied to the compliment, feeling your face heat up.

“Let’s lay the table.”

Let’s lay down and make out for three hours and fall asleep under the stars in the back of a pickup.

You gave your brain a second to calm down. “Sure. How can I help you?”

In twenty minutes, the tasty smell of lasagna began drifting in the air, making your mouth water as you and Taehyung talked about his other job — the one that actually paid the bills and brought food on the table. “I just love them, they’re adorable. I managed to practice when my granny used to babysit.”

You pouted, starry eyed as he talked about the children, going on and on about the five year old that always wanted to curl his hair and paint his nails.

Most of all, you loved the idea of him sitting on a baby chair, all curled up, giant hand sprawled on the table while the girl spread lacquer on his pretty nails.

“Your granny babysat?”

“She raised a few of us, yes, and then she was the babysitter for all the kids of the street,” he explained.

“I thought you grew up with your mom?” you said confusedly.

“Yes, we stayed with my mom until we turned four, but then she went back to her job and we started staying with my grandmother. And when I was ten, my mom started dating a good man. He’s one of the greatest people I know, but unfortunately, he was transferred out of state and my mom decided to go with him. I didn’t want to leave and my granny let me stay with her.”

You nodded, taking in more details about him. “Are you happy about the situation with your mom? Do you miss her?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes. But I like seeing her happy. She got married and she’s safe. Her husband spoils her, he takes care of her and he’s well off. She won’t need to worry about her health.”

“That’s a good thing,” you nodded, getting startled once the timer rang.

“Thank God,” he muttered, getting an oven glove as you stepped away quickly.

Dinner was a quiet ordeal, with easy chatting and small pauses. Silence was more than welcome as you slipped into the quiet comfort of sharing a meal. It was all so natural, effortless. And the food was delicious, filling your stomach but also pleasing your tastebuds; Seokjin was famous for his culinary skills, but he really outdid himself with the cheesecake, so creamy and perfectly sweet that you asked for a second serving, Taehyung more than happy to comply.

You kept chatting as you helped him clear the table, washing the dishes while he dried them.

“Last one,” you called, rinsing a plate before passing it to him.

You watched him as he diligently dried it, your gaze meeting his in his peripheral.

You tried to find something to say as his stare focused on you, his hands placing down the plate as he fully turned towards you.

“What?” you murmured hesitantly.

“I might do something stupid,” he said, his voice deep and barely audible, his face getting closer to you. “But I haven’t done it in a very long time.” His hand landed on your waist. “Stop me if you find it outright idiotic.”

There was nothing idiotic in the way his mouth looked so inviting from up close, all its curves too inviting for you to stop staring.

The mole on his lower lip teased you in ways that made you want to throw yourself at him. You couldn’t even understand how the attraction worked, you were simply needy, praying for his mouth to finally meet yours.

“Close your eyes,” he breathed out, trying to find courage.

You followed his suggestion, putting yourself out of misery and standing on your tiptoes before leaning in, finally joining your lips with his.

He didn’t even pretend to keep calm, both arms wrapping around your waist as he held you, delivering a string of small pecks with his lips slightly ajar, offering you the soft plumpness of the inner flesh, vaguely humid and hot.

You loved it.

All you could do was exhale, a tiny cry leaving your throat as your vocal cords caught the breath leaving your lungs. Your hands flew to his hair, hiding in him as embarrassment set you aflame.

A low grunt echoed through his chest as he felt you tug the locks at his nape gently, your body pressing harder against him.

He tried to hold you back, not sure he was ready to admit the carnal way his body reacted to you. He wanted to be gentle, delicate, cautious, but the tightness of his trousers around his crotch was anything but.

“Darling, I need a minute,” he mumbled against your lips in an almost tickling motion.

“Just one more,” you replied, your voice so heated and thin.

He tutted. “Let’s not go too fast.”

You stood straighter and chased his mouth as he tried to retreat, your eyelids lowered as you stared at the sweet, tempting mole.

“Just one…” you whispered before sucking his lower lip, licking it with the tip of your tongue.

His hand moved to your tailbone, pressing you closer. Rational thought abandoned him as he pushed his tongue against the seam of your lips, rubbing it against your palate before letting it tangle with yours.

That’s when you noticed the hardness between your legs, his thigh slotted there comfortably as you pressed your hips to it, eliciting a moan from Taehyung.

“Sofa,” you murmured, trying to hold him to you as you walked backwards to the door.

“Wait,” he breathed out, trying to part from you, causing you to whine.

“Don’t go,” you said with a pout. “I need you,” you almost whimpered, touching his nape, his neck, his chest.

“I’ll be there in a second. Don’t go all cute grumpy on me, I just need to grab my phone,” he explained, unglueing your body from his. Reluctantly made your way to the kitchen door, waiting for him before heading to the sitting room, refusing to let him out of your sight anytime soon.

Once he’d pocketed his phone, he turned towards you, his eyes getting dark and lascivious as he studied your frame while you leaned against the door jamb.

He strolled casually towards you, your eyes following his sinewy limbs.

You realised you were eager to see him naked, the thought making you pause mid-breath.

Once he stood in front of you, his arm slipped between your back and the wooden frame of the door, holding you as he leaned down. “Smartest thing I’ve done in a while.”

“Even smarter if you’re gonna do me,” you quipped, biting your lower lip and cringing once you realised you had said it out loud.

He snickered and kissed you, your hips pushing forward to grind against him, his cock too hard and large for you not to notice it. His hand wrapped around your asscheek, helping you grind even harder, his lean, strong fingers squeezing and kneading your flesh deliciously. Carefully walking towards his destination, he helped you navigate the corridor in a slight penumbra, a thin ray of moonlight slashing the floor before he pushed the door open and entered the sitting room. The space was illuminated in a blue-grey light coming from the full moon shining outside the windows.

Haphazardly, you managed to sit down, pulling him with you, making him lose his balance and stumble a little.

“Are you okay?” you asked, worried about the stupefied look on his face.

“Yeah, just thinking how to…” he fixed his stance, wondering if he should pull you on his lap or make you lay down or…

“Come here,” you murmured, kissing the mole on his cheek. “I’ve got so many kisses to give you.”

“They’re all mine,” he cooed, turning adorable for a second.

You melted. “Yes, now come here, don’t make me beg.”

He turned and leaned into you, cupping your jawline and holding you still before he slipped his tongue across your mouth. “You’re too far like this,” he complained, ignoring the fact that your bodies were literally touching shoulder to ankle.

“Wait.” You quickly bent your legs underneath you, thankful for the no-shoes rule in his house as you sat on your heels. “Like this?” you asked as he mirrored the motion almost too rapidly, his body rocking dangerously.

He immediately realised his trousers were tighter like this. He tried to ignore it, his only goal being for his mouth to meet yours, feeling the hot, milky taste of your tongue that still held some memory of the cheesecake. “Come closer,” he breathed, hoping to get some friction, the softness of your breasts against his torso, crying out at how much he missed the stand-up position, allowing the front of his body to adhere to yours with alarming precision.

“Can’t get any closer,” you chuckled desperately. “Can I lay down?”

He nodded, he needed close.

You untucked your legs from beneath you, bending them at each of his sides. “We can go to my room—”

“I like it here,” you replied, tugging him into you, his eyes shooting open once he’d risked falling from the sofa.

You managed to catch him, thankful for the wide cushions of the seats. “Be careful,” you giggled fondly, kissing his brow, his nose, following his moles like fire flights. The whole night felt magical. It felt even more magical once you managed to get his playlist to play again, placing his phone on the ground and enjoying the round fullness of his backside.

“You really have hands made for pottery,” he mused as he kissed your brow, your cheeks, the bridge of your nose, your chin, the shell of your ear. “I like them there,” he confessed, pushing his pelvis against yours, meeting it mid-thrust and coaxing a whine from your throat and a growl from his.

One of his arms lifted from beside your head. “Can I?” he asked politely, letting it hover just a few inches over your breast.

“Please do,” you replied, leading his hand with yours, his wrist and fingers immediately catching up on how to grab it, squeeze it, roll it in his palm and toy with the nipple.

“Harder? Softer? Just like this?” he checked in, attentive and concerned.

“Just slightly harder,” you panted. “Slower too, please.”

His pace changed immediately, getting you to whine as you completely connected with his touch. The soft, slow massage was making you hyper-aware of every inch of skin, every single part of your breast, every nerve ending and hard edge and soft curve.

“I wanna take off my bra. Can I?” you asked in the heat of the moment.

Taehyung was vaguely confused for a second, so lost in the feel of you that he barely understood the question. “If you want that, I want that,” he replied, his breath laboured.

Quickly, you arched your back, Taehyung’s lips reaching the column of your throat and peppering it with soft pecks. “Do you need help?”

You tutted and moaned as his teeth scraped your skin lightly.

With some gymnastics, you managed to tug the garment out of your shirt, Taehyung moaning at the increased softness underneath his palm. “Goodness, they’re incredible,” he murmured, pressing his face against one, rubbing it as he turned his head side to side.

“Please, keep touching them,” you mumbled, your voice rough with the way you struggled to breathe.

He changed the arm propping him up, switching sides as he started to tease your other breast. “Does it feel good?”

“Yeah,” you managed to confirm before your hands grabbed his ass to push him against you.

He paused for a second.

“I’m getting out of control,” he warned you.

“And?”

“I’m gonna cum in my pants if we keep this up,” he confessed, purring as you nibbled his jaw. “Slow down, please,” he panted, lifting his hips away from you.

“Tae,” you called, breathing heavily, almost begging him.

“I want you a lot, ____, please tell me you do too,” he was almost feverish with need, his brow furrowed, his beautiful eyes glittering in the dark.

“Isn’t it clear?” you asked in return, trying to chase him on his retreat.

He tutted and pushed you down. “I want to hear it.”

“I want you, Taehyung. I need you. I want to see you lose control.” Your mind was gone, far far away, your brain malfunctioning as his curls tickled your upper chest.

“I don’t wanna go all the way,” he murmured, “I just… I just wanna—” he huffed out frustratedly. “I just want to make you feel good. And to feel you close to me.”

You bit your lip. “Maybe—”

“It’s not that I don’t want to make love to you. I really want to. But this is going so fast and I wanna savour every step. Take my time.” He pressed his forehead against your chest. “I just like you so much and I want you to know it means something to me.” He paused and you waited for him. “I don’t want you to think this is just a random thing to me, and I don’t want to be a random thing to you.”

“You’re not.” You cupped his cheek and pressed a soft kiss on his lips. “We can take our time—”

“You must think I’m a coward,” he murmured, voice filled with self-hatred.

You held him closer, trying to convey all your affection. “No, it’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe with me. I get you, baby.” You rubbed the tip of his nose with yours. “Let’s take baby steps. We can just mess around. You want to make me feel good, and I you. No need to have sex to go there.”

He nodded. “I wanna keep touching you,” he murmured. “I wanna feel you with my hands.”

You blinked slowly, eager to feel his fingers on you, inside you. “That sounds great, baby,” you encouraged him, watching his shy smile and the gentle blush on his cheeks, out of exertion and shyness.

“Tell me if you need to stop,” he whispered in your ear before kissing the soft spot underneath it, his free hand moving down, from your breast to your stomach, slipping underneath your shirt, moving up against your naked skin.

You gasped once his palm cupped the underside of your bosom.

“Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head. “Feels very good,” you answered, caressing his hair out of his face, his eyes moving from your chest to your lips to your eyes.

“Are you okay with this?” he asked, reaching for your nipple with the pad of his thumb.

“Bless you, yes, baby. So good.” It was natural to trace his mouth with your finger, his lips parting to welcome it into his mouth. Your hips arched up, meeting his thigh to grind against him. You needed more pressure against your clit, your entrance clenching and widening as you felt wetness coat your folds uncomfortably. You refused to pressure him into leading his hand downwards, still you thanked several deities when his gentle fingertips started making their way to your belly button, dipping his digit in to study its shape, feeling all the ridges and tender skin. “It feels so cute,” he said after letting your finger out of his mouth, watching as you brushed it against your neck to dry it up. “I wanna make a little sculpture out of it.” He giggled. “Sorry, that’s so childish.” He shook his head.

“It’s adorable,” you replied, “it’s— Mmh, Tae. Yes.” He managed to scatter your thoughts across the universe once his fingers dipped into your jeans.

“Undo the button please,” he growled, reaching for the wet spot on your panties. “Darling dearest, you’re fucking drenched,” he said, a deep cry giving away just how desperate he was. “Can I get in your panties, precious?”

Mouth gaping, you nodded, an embarrassing mewl echoing across the room as he touched a slightly delicate spot. “That’s too sensitive,” you keened, a strangled purr leaving you once your back arched, his thumb relieving the disturbing pressure and wetness.

As slight friction began to build, Taehyung bit his lip, the vision of you so erotic and calming at the same time. It felt right, oh-so-right, to have you underneath him like that — maybe slightly overdressed, but adorably pliant and needy.

“Want them inside, darling?” he asked you, your head nodding yes quickly, without a shred of doubt. “Here, talk to me, sweetheart. Like this?” he murmured, waiting for your feedback.

“Yes,” was all you managed to utter, his digits hitting your sweet spot without even trying. “Rub there, please, stretch me,” you told him, guiding him as your hips started to roll, his thumb meeting your clit and causing a small whimper to exit your mouth before you clamped your lips around his neck.

“You feel amazing, darling. Soft and so hot and so velvety. You’re so dang slippery, it feels insane.” He kissed your head. “Want to make you cum so fast. I want to keep you up for hours like this, and then kiss you until you fall asleep. You’re spectacular, ____. I can’t take my eyes off you, my precious.”

You felt overwhelmed with the way he pushed his fingers inside you, pressing his long, strong, skilled, digits against your walls, stretching you so impossibly wide that you felt like you could probably fit four fingers in to the knuckles. But you didn’t have time to think much, simply arching your hips up and pushing your jeans and panties to your mid-thighs, trying to give him more space for action.

“Is the angle alright?” he checked in, binding his wrist a little lower, getting better leverage to finger you harder.

“Keep going like this,” you exhaled, your hand moving down, fixing his thumb as he struggled to find the right spot, “let me handle this, focus on the inside, please.”

He nodded and kissed your lips. “Sorry.”

You kissed him again. “No need to apologise— Yeah, right… there…” you said, starting to thrust up in earnest. “Clits are complicated but you’re doing so good inside,” you licked your lips, trying to ease the pain of them drying up with your and his breathing.

He bent down and chased the tip of your tongue as you ran it across your mouth, drinking in your soft hiccups and gasps as you neared your climax, his mouth crashing onto yours as you finally came apart underneath him, his kisses muffling your moans and cries.

Taehyung felt desperate as he slipped another finger inside you, giving you as much fullness as he could offer while you clenched around his digits, actually sobbing once you processed his generous offer.

It took you maybe thirty seconds before you could calm down, taking your fingers off your clit, whispering an “okay, slow down” to Taehyung, who halted the arching and pistoning of his fingers to simply press against your g spot and cup your mound with his palm.

“All good?” he asked, grunting a little as his arm cramped up.

“Yeah, are you?” you murmured back, noticing his wince.

“Cramp,” he huffed, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Want me on top? You’ve strained yourself already as it is,” you scolded him apprehensively.

He shook his head and withdrew his hand from your crotch, cleaning his fingers with lewd, erotic swipes of his tongue. You felt ready to begin all over again. “I need to be on top,” he said, drying his hand against his t-shirt before propping himself up on both elbows before bending down, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “I kinda want to grind on you, if you’re okay with it.”

Nodding, you helped your hips up, fixing your clothes back in place but also leaving your zipper and button open. “Clothes on?”

You felt his head move in an affirmative motion, his hips starting to press against you. “I know I must look like a teenager to you.”

“It’s adorable. Makes me feel very young,” you said before chuckling. “It’s been so long since I felt this good with anyone,” you confessed, holding him to your chest, assisting his motions by moving your own pelvis in a wavy pattern. “It’s so comfortable. So familiar and nice,” you whispered in his ear before biting it gently. “You make me feel like I’m not an utter mess in this attraction thing.”

“You’re not a mess. You just feel attraction differently.” He managed to gather his thoughts and words long enough to reply to you. He thought it was important for you to feel that it was okay, that he didn’t mind, that all he cared about was how happy he felt by your side. “You’re hot, you’re smart. And you’re so…” He grunted as he found the perfect angle and pressure, his high rushing towards him. “So magnetic. And good…” Another purr left his mouth as he started humping you in earnest, going so fast you doubted you would survive having him inside you, his torso crashing on you as he hummed and bit the crook of your neck, crotch attached to your thigh as he pushed, harder and harder, his glutes impossibly tight under your palms.

“Yes, baby. I’m here, Tae. It’s all okay, babe.”

“So good,” he rumbled, still hiding against you. “So, so good,” he moaned again, your face tensing in a kind, elated smile.

“Lay on me, baby,” you kissed the crown of his head. You felt as if you were on cloud nine, and it had little to do with the orgasm and the freaky show. You loved his tenderness, his gentle approach, the way he had checked in on you throughout the whole night, wide puppy eyes staring at you in focus and adoration and wonder. And the way he had asked to take it easy, the way you had felt no pressure, no need to search for attraction, but finding it there, in the way his hands felt familiar and welcome and so, so loving, in his face and his smile and his stupid, stupid, ridiculously fluffy hair. There was attraction and even though you had asked yourself why at the beginning, you didn’t dare doubt it now. It was just like oxygen in your blood, like black holes and shooting stars and the moon phases. Undoubtable. Solid. Proven. Undeniable. It had become a main axiom to your existence.

I’m in love with Kim Taehyung.

It was like the world suddenly spinned the other way around. You let the revelation sink in, your hand running up and down Taehyung’s spine.

“You’re safe with me, babe.”

He nodded and nuzzled in closer. “Are you staying?”

“Yes, sweetie. You’ll be sleeping in my arms tonight, baby.”

You felt him smile against your neck before he found a comfortable position and closed his eyes.

Taglist is open

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

#taehyung x reader #taehyung fluff #taehyung smut #kim taehyung x yn #thebtswritersclub #bangtansorciere #thetruthuntoldnet

73 notes · View notes

jackson--t · 3 years ago

Text

The last one turns off the light

Summary: On the day of Ragnar's funeral, the family reunites - but even before that, chaos begins. When the Lothbroks brothers get together, the world turns upside down - and not only funny things will come out.

Words: ~ 3.7 k.

Pairings/tags: please look up at AO3, too much for here. We have one crossover pairing, which will be Ubbe x Eggsy (Kingsman). And obviously, Heahmund x Ivar. 🤣

This story is a comforter for me and hopefully entertaining for you. 🖤 Other updates follow this week, since I had a light down. xD

If you want to be tagged in this one, tell me please. 🥰 I always feel so uncormfortable tagging people and thinking they don't like all of my weird stuff, lovely @youbloodymadgenius 🤣❤.

Chapter 1: Of canapès and barking dogs.

Bjorn, Torvi & Sigurd

It was not a nice day, Bjorn had known that from the beginning. Going to funerals was never easy - but holding his father's at his mother-in-law's house was. He had always believed that Ragnar would grow much older - and that the day he died would be peaceful.

But the house of Aslaug had been strangely restless for days. Sigurd had already arrived and had taken possession of the guest room next to Torvi and Bjorn's - his other brothers would soon follow. Bjorn folded the note in his hand lightly and sighed softly. He had read through the words a thousand times, and yet he kept getting stuck.

"I don't know why Aslaug wants me to give the speech," he said softly to Torvi, and she smiled slightly. Her hands softly stroked Bjorn's back, and her voice was like velvet against his ear.

"Because you're the oldest, that's why."

"Everyone will think that Ivar will hold it. After all, he's the famous author."

"Don't worry about that, you know people love you."

Bjorn creased the notes in his hand a little and turned his gaze again to the scrawled words. "My father was a great man. He was born in Kattegat in 1968. Kattegat is known for fishing and... God Torvi, it sounds like a school lecture. Ivar should do it."

"Be brave, Bjorn.", Torvi muttered to him, when suddenly the door opened.

"Are there, the guys with the coffin. With Dad." Sigurd said, who was still talking through the door before he could even open it with a rumble. Bjorn clicked his tongue.

"Still haven't learned to knock, huh?" he hissed, and Sigurd rolled his eyes.

"I don't care, now get down here. Mom's going to freak out - you know how sensitive she is."

"Then she shouldn't have done the funeral here in her house."

"I'll say three words to that: lazy old woman."

"Sigurd!"

Sigurd laughed lightly, and nodded to Bjorn, who slowly rose from the bed and placed his notes on the nightstand. "Come, Torvi."

It was not an easy step that Bjorn took down the stairs, together with Sigurd and Torvi. The last time he had seen his father alive, everything had been fine: he had sat in front of the TV in the evening and watched a game with Bjorn. It had been quiet hours, and the last touch Bjorn actively remembered was the light feeling of Ragnar's fingers on his forearm when he had told him a good joke. Ragnar had laughed so loudly that there had been tears in his eyes - it had been a lovely evening.

Bjorn had long wondered if those last moments were enough, enough to be last words. He should perhaps have said an "I love you," something that expressed his deep admiration for this man. But one never knew when those were the last words - and when Bjorn saw the heavy oak coffin standing in the living room, along with the funeral home staff, his heart felt heavy. It was like lead, as if all the weights were pulling down the otherwise strong and heavy body. But he remained strong, even when he saw how Sigurd became slightly pale around the nose.

Nevertheless, with a quiet clearing of his throat and a respectful nod to the staff, he stood in front of the coffin and opened it with a slight, barely audible movement.

An iron silence spread, and one could almost feel the oppressive heaviness as Björn stared into the coffin. The funeral home staff lowered their heads in reverence as Bjorn suddenly said dryly, "That's not my father."

The silence around the room changed as the employees looked first at each other, and then at Bjorn, who still kept his gaze fixed on the coffin.

One of the staff came around and looked at the dead man, then opened his mouth.

"Oh God, that's really the wrong one. Guys, we put the wrong one in the coffin. We're terribly sorry, Mister Lothbrok - we'll be right back."

Torvi and Bjorn watched the men as they took the coffin back outside; then Bjorn exhaled deeply.

Sigurd in the corner behind them let out a soft chuckle.

"Well, if this is how the funeral is going to start, it's going to be cheerful. A bad omen."

"Don't say that!" Bjorn hissed, and Sigurd just snarled.

"It already started when Ivar said he was bringing his weird drug friend."

"He's a pharmacist, you monkey."

"Same thing, he sells drugs to old people. Maybe he can mix some in the punch."

“Sigurd!"

"What?"

"A little more respect." Torvi said annoyed, while Bjorn exhaled deeply.

"My respect just sailed out with the wrong daddy."

"Oh man. Please let this day go by quickly and without a hitch," Bjorn muttered, trying not to think about the mess that had ensued last Christmas when Ivar and Sigurd had fought over dessert and had destroyed one window.

"The day is guaranteed to be a disaster. Just think who's all coming together here today. They don't say the Lothbroks are all crazy for nothing. And if Ivar says a stupid thing about Martha, I'll punch him in the face!" Sigurd snarled; he took one of the canapés, but got lightly smacked on the fingers by Aslaug, who had joined in quietly and silently.

"Don't!"

"I'm hungry, though."

"You wait until everyone gets here!" Aslaug hissed; one could tell she wasn't feeling well. Torvi silently accompanied her to the kitchen again, while Bjorn sat down next to Sigurd's armchair with a snort.

"I'm so going to fail. Why isn't Ivar giving the speech?" he muttered; he also took a canapé, as did Sigurd, who by now had rested his legs on the little table next to him.

"It doesn't matter, no one will listen anyway. Everyone will blubber. Besides, he's bringing his friend, that fucking Brit. He won't talk in front of him, I bet you."

"All right, let him. They've been together for a long time."

"Yeah, while Ubbe will end up an old maid."

"You too."

The brothers looked at each other, then they both laughed. And although it was not a fitting day for laughter, they both couldn't help it. They were only interrupted when Aslaug came storming out of the kitchen and slapped them both on the knuckles for eating too many of the canapés.

§-----§-----§

Ubbe, Hvitserk, Ivar, Heahmund & Eggsy

"Which house was it again?" Ubbe asked, drawing his eyebrows together; Ivar yawned slightly as he looked out the window at the passing houses. He already knew the area by heart, had already spent so many hours driving to and from Heahmund's house - and not just because of Heahmund. Heahmund's little brother Eggsy was Ivar's age, and the two had been best friends for a long time. It had been rather inappropriate when Ivar had confessed to him one day that he fancied his older brother - but after Eggsy had punched him in the face for it during a visit to a club, to be fair, they had been best friends again.

"That one up front. You know that house, you drove me here so many times!" Ivar snarled; Ubbe just snorted softly.

"Yeah, it was dark back then, and you were drunk."

"Alcohol is my muse. And a naked Heahmund."

"No, Ivar. Please don't. At least today. He's a pharmacist, isn't he?"

Ivar rolled his eyes slightly and exhaled in annoyance, then nodded slightly. He ran a hand through his hair while his gaze was fixed on his older brother.

"Yeah, you know that too," he grumbled, and Ubbe shrugged.

"Do you think he can take a look at my wrist? There's all this discoloration on it."

"Ubbe, please. He's a pharmacist, not a doctor," Hvitserk interjected, who was sitting in the back seat.

Ivar knew that his older brother was very upset inside. Ivar felt it the same way - when he had learned of Ragnar's death, a part of his world had collapsed. It had taken him a long time to come to terms - a long time, and a handful of Heahmund's best pills. That had helped. When Ivar saw the slightly clouded look on Hvitserk's face in the rearview mirror, he bit his lower lip lightly.

"But he deals with pills, he knows what I can take!" Ubbe replied irritably.

"Eggsy deals, Heahmund thinks it sucks," Ivar said, amused, turning his gaze back outside.

"Why can they even do that? Eggsy looks like the last spade."

"Ay!"

"Ain't that the truth."

"Maybe Heahmund will have some pills for you in a minute, Hvitty. You look really pale," Ivar said quietly; his bright eyes found Hvitserk's, and he clearly saw his brother forcing a smile.

"I just have a stomachache, after all, and a little dizziness. I'll be fine."

"Here we are," Ubbe said, and the three brothers got out of the car.

The house was in a somewhat quieter corner of the town and was a veritable palace; it had been expensive, for Heahmund and Eggsy's parents were both doctors. Heahmund had confessed to Ivar once long ago that he knew he was a disappointment to them as an apothecary - but Ivar had always encouraged him. Heahmund loved working with chemicals, and the fact that he had fallen in love with him, well - Ivar clearly owed a bit of that to his love of Eggsy's forbidden tablets. Ivar remembered it clearly - an Iggy Pop concert, drunk to the point of no return, and he had dared to kiss Heahmund for the first time.

He remembered hot fingers on his body, wet and sweaty bodies pressing against each other, loud and booming music in his ears, vibrating on his skin.

But that quickly disappeared as Ubbe pressed the button on the bell and waited with his two brothers. It took a moment, but then a grinning Eggsy opened the door.

"Holla, we don't actually buy anything at the door," he said, and Ivar laughed. He chimed in with Eggsy and went into the house, with Ubbe and Hvitserk following. For a moment Eggsy and Ubbe looked at each other, then Ubbe said, "Do you have anything for Hvitty's stomachache?"

"Hmm. I don't know... I'll go see. Hold on. Oh, Ivar - Heahmund's in the shower, he'll be right there in a minute," Eggsy replied, winking at Ivar, who again bit his lip lightly before catching Ubbe's shocked look.

"Ivar, I dare you. You're wearing your fancy suit, Dad gave you that one at the time for your first book launch. If it gets wet-" Ubbe muttered, and Ivar snorted.

"What, it's just water!"

"I think Ubbe once again couldn't get it into his mouth that he means the cum stains that are on your suit afterwards when Heahmund has... wiped himself on your lips," Hvitserk threw into the round and was rewarded by a punch in the neck from Ubbe and a hearty laugh from Ivar.

"I'll wash your filthy mouth out in a minute... Ah, look. Here's some paracetamol, you can take it, can't you?" Ubbe said, holding up a brown little box with the words written all over it in a very slightly scuffed way. Ivar raised his eyebrows as Ubbe tossed the little tin to Hvitserk.

"Hmm, okay... I'll take these without water, not that my suit will get "wet" yet," Hvitserk muttered, and Ivar nudged him lightly.

"Stop it now, I'm shitting myself laughing. But I'm really going to see where Heahmund is," he said, and went up the stairs to the upper floors. Hvitserk swallowed his pills while Ubbe wandered lightly up and down the hallway, looking at the photos on the wall.

It had taken Ubbe a long time to accept Heahmund and Ivar's relationship. Heahmund was an educated and kind man, but Ubbe thought him far too old for Ivar. He knew his little brother and his moods, and also his volatility. It was a real miracle that the relationship had lasted two years by now - which was surely due to Ubbe always keeping an eye on Ivar. Even Ragnar had taken a while to get along with Heahmund. Not as a mate, not as a man - but as the boyfriend at Ivar's side. He had always seen his son in the arms of pretty women, but never in the arms of another man who could almost be his father himself.

Ubbe's eyes wandered over the many photos on the wall and lingered on a family photo. It was visible that they were a well-heeled, wealthy family - only Eggsy stood out, as always. The boy was just like them with Ivar, the nestling, the baby - and the spawn of hell. Even though Ubbe really liked Eggsy's grin, and his blunt, British humor.

"What do you think it's going to be like today? Wow, are the walls yellow here.", Hvitserk said quietly; Ubbe directed his gaze to the beige wall, but only raised his eyebrows. It was nothing new that Hvitserk had lousy taste when it came to color naming.

"Well... it's dad. I'm sure it won't be pretty. I can't wait to see how Bjorn's speech turns out."

"Why isn't Ivar holding it?" Hvitserk said; as the two looked at each other, Hvitserk lightly stroked the wall with his fingers. Ubbe smiled briefly; he put a hand on Hvitserk's shoulder and sighed.

"I don't know. It doesn't matter either, he's the oldest, and he'll do fine. It was mother's wish. And Dad would have loved it. We'll all be together again," he said quietly, and Hvitserk nodded silently.

He was about to say something when Eggsy came down the stairs. He tossed a small can to Ubbe and winked. "Here, paracetamol."

"It's all good Eggs, we've already had some. It was okay, right? There were some lying here, we really only took two."

Eggsy's grin disappeared from his face; he was about to say something when Ivar and Heahmund came down the stairs.

"Hello, you two!" Heahmund said; he was smiling, but he placed his hand lightly comfortingly on Ubbe's shoulder, who smiled only slightly. "I'm really very sorry."

"It's okay. It's part of life, isn't it?" Ubbe replied; he waited until Heahmund removed his hand, and then cleared his throat, not without another quick glance at the slightly distraught Eggsy.

"I'll go start the car. Eggsy, are you going to ride with us?"

"Who... me? Nah, I'll... um... drive myself later, I've got stuff to do," he said, forcing a soft smile.

When Ubbe was out the door and the others were about to follow, Eggsy stood in front of the door. He pushed it shut lightly and looked at the three, who eyed him in slight confusion.

"Eggs, what are you doing? Make room.", Ivar snarled and grabbed Eggsy by the shoulder, but the latter just pushed him away slightly.

"Honestly - Hvit - how many of those pills did you take?" he said harshly, and Hvitserk snorted.

"Two, why? And you guys should repaint your house, that yellow paint really stings in the eyes."

"FUCK." Eggsy said, and Heahmund grabbed him by the shoulder.

"What do you mean with fuck, Eggsy? Do you have like... no. Don't tell me you..."

"Yeah… I did."

"What's wrong?" Ivar interjected, whose gaze had so far only wandered back and forth between the two.

"The pills.” Eggsy murmured, holding up the brown tin.

"Paracetamol, it says. Are you stupid?" Hvitserk said, and Eggsy opened his mouth.

"That's really a bit inappropriate now, huh... These aren't paras."

A rough hand reached into Eggsy's shirt, and Heahmund pushed his younger brother hard back against the door. "What do you mean Eggsy?!"

"I was... experimenting, it was supposed to be for tonight, I... I named it xylitol x10."

"What."

"What?"

"Is that why the walls are so fucking yellow?!" Hvitserk shouted, trying to jump towards Eggsy, but Ivar held him back.

"I'm sorry, but you don't just eat any fucking pills lying around somewhere either -"

"It had paracetamol on it, you asshole!!!"

"Yeah, you think I'd write party drug on it?"

"STOP!" Heahmund yelled between them, holding the boys apart; he could feel exactly how tense Hvitserk and Ivar were breathing.

"What's in it, Eggsy?" Heahmund asked, and all eyes turned to the young Englishman. Eggsy fussed, running a hand down the back of his neck, then muttering lightly.

"Well, this and that...I didn't...quite calculate that."

"Hallucinogens?" Heahmund grumbled; he still had his brother in stitches, and Eggsy nodded slightly.

"Everything. Stimulants, sleeping pills, painkillers. It's supposed to get you high on a new level."

It took a moment before Hvitserk let out a slight cry of panic and went for Eggsy's throat; Ivar interposed himself but gave Eggsy a deadly look.

"How long does it last?" he asked frantically, and Eggsy opened his lips slightly. It took him a moment before he quietly replied, "Twelve hours?"

Hvitserk was about to go after Eggsy again, but this time Heahmund joined in.

"THAT MEANS I'M GOING COMPLETELY HIGH AND FUCKED UP ON MY FATHER'S FUNERAL?" Hvitserk shouted, and Eggsy shrugged slightly.

"That... yeah, something like that. But it won't be so bad, because… you just won't notice anything."

"Eggsy, this is going to be trouble. Shit, what do we do now? Ubbe doesn't have a clue, does he?"

Ivar bit his lower lip lightly, still looking at his best friend. He knew that Eggsy had never done this on purpose, guaranteed, and that he had simply wanted to resell the pills. They had done it so many times, together, to really kick ass at festivals - if Ragnar or Ubbe had ever known that, and Heahmund - oh, Ivar was sure he would end up in hell. But he stuck by Eggsy, who by now was really pale around the nose.

"We'll work it out. We can say he's allergic to the pills because they were... expired."

"Ivar, that's... Ubbe will never believe that. He himself is so..."

"We have no choice."

Hvitserk pressed his head against Ivar's shoulder and let out a low snort; his hands clawed tightly into the suit of Ivar's shoulder, and Ivar patted his head lightly.

"Well, at least... the funeral won't be so bad for you then." he said, catching an indignant look from Heahmund, which he only returned with a shrug.

"We have no choice, like I said."

A honk sounded outside, and all four flinched violently; Hvitserk raised his eyes, already looking slightly dreamy.

"Fuck... Eggsy, get changed and join us as soon as you can. It's best if Hvitserk drinks a lot of water to get that stuff out. God, Eggsy...you must be from the mailman.", Heahmund said with a slight frown.

"Shut up, it wasn't like I wanted this!"

"It's okay now." Ivar said, taking Hvitserk's forearm in his hand; he guided his brother easily while Eggsy opened the front door.

"You just have to pretend everything's okay long enough. So Ubbe won't notice anything, because he'll kill Eggsy, me and Heahmund then. And with his kind, himself, too," Ivar added; he held Hvitserk tightly as he pulled slightly towards the flowerbed.

"The flowers smell like butter."

"Sure, everybody knows that," Ivar said, turning in a panic to Eggsy, who stood like a little pale something in the front doorway, watching the three of them get into Ubbe's car.

He raised his arm ever so slightly and with compressed lips nodded to Ubbe, who waved at him. Only when the car turned the corner slightly did he flee back into the house in a panic.

The first few miles through the city in the car were silent; until Ubbe cleared his throat and looked at the slightly cramped Heahmund and Ivar in the back seat through the mirror.

"Everything’s good? What else did you do inside?" he asked, and Ivar and Heahmund looked at each other slightly. Then Ivar put on a warm smile.

"I was arguing with Eggs about what he should wear. He refuses to wear a suit."

"Haha yeah, that’s my little... cutie... brother.", Heahmund laughed, and got a firm jab from Ivar in the ribcage for it - which Ubbe luckily didn't see because he had to brake hard. An elderly couple walked across the intersection, and Hvitserk suddenly looked around in confusion.

"Wasn't there a dog in here just now?" Hvitserk said, mouth agape; Ubbe at the steering wheel drew his eyebrows together, while Ivar and Heahmund exchanged brief glances in the back seat.

"What?" Ubbe asked, snorting in amusement, while Ivar lightly bit his lower lip. Hvitserk's gaze turned towards Ubbe in confusion, and he stared at his older brother slightly absently.

"There was a dog barking in here just now, wasn't there?"

"Hvitty what the... did you take dr...?" Ubbe began, but Ivar interrupted him frantically, putting his hand on Ubbe's shoulder from behind.

"Aren't we almost there?" he said with pointed curiosity, and Ubbe turned his gaze skeptically to the road. "Yes, in a minute," he said, giving Ivar a puzzled look through the rearview mirror. But his youngest brother only smiled an exaggeratedly broad and hearty smile, while Hvitserk pressed his head against the window, smiling slightly.

"You guys are acting weird. But today it’s okay. After all, today is an important day, and it's finally another day when the whole family gets to be together loving each other. If only Dad could see us like this," Ubbe said quietly, albeit with a soft, crooked smile at the corner of his mouth.

If only dad could see us.

Ivar's hands clenched slightly, and he exhaled softly. His brother was doped up on whatever drugs Eggsy had made up makeshift from his pharmacy studies. Bjorn would make a beastly speech, Ivar knew, even though it hurt his heart to think of his oldest brother that way. Sigurd and he would quarrel, and even that day hold grudges against each other. Ivar would show up at his father's funeral with his boyfriend, whom not many knew yet. Aunt Helga would have a heart attack. Ubbe would have a crisis as soon as he realized that Hvitserk hadn't just taken paracetamol. Oh yes, if only dad could see us.

But it was Heahmund's warm hands that closed around his and held him tightly; very tightly, so that Ivar immediately felt safe and comfortable. He glanced at his partner, and Heahmund smiled encouragingly at him. At least he was there - because with him, Ivar felt complete.

Even if his brother in the passenger seat wore a slight thread of drool in the corner of his mouth and was guaranteed to be fantasizing about yellow walls and butter-smelling flowers, and imaginary dogs barking in the car.

#vikings #modern au #heahmund x ivar #eggsy unwin #ivar the boneless #heavar #hvitserk lothbrok #family #crossover fanfiction #fanfiction

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world-of-socks · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter one: Spies are Forever (sorry I had to…*)

*If you don’t know what Spies Are Forever is please look it up. The full thing is on Youtube, you won’t regret it!!

(Got the idea from @steven-universe-au-prompts. I’m still working on concept art and stuff I’ll post that later. Anyways this was super fun to write and I hope you all enjoy this first look into hopefully will be a series that I’ll complete for once lol)

...

“Soldiers!” A pearl roared to the oncoming sea of quartzes and other miscellaneous gems and fusions.

Nobody was paying her any mind, the camp was full of excitement, everyone was talking to each other and conversing about the next move and where they were stationed. The air was so abuzz with different conversations that Yellow Tourmaline heard none of them. Nor did she care. She was here for one purpose and one purpose alone, and that right now, was to hear that renegade pearl speak.

“SOLDIERS!” she roared again.

A few looked up and then went back to chatting.

The pearl looked towards everyone’s leader, the rose quartz, who was speaking with a fusion, and then turned towards the crowd once more, “SHUT! UP!!”

Everyone turned to face her, and ceased their conversations. Yellow watched the pearl sigh, and then continue,

“We all appreciate you being here, your service is greatly needed in our fight to win back this wonderful planet. Though, we will need to have some form of organization in our camps, you will now hear a word from my general and yours: ROSE QUARTZ!”

The crowd erupted into applause and roars and cheers. These gems loved this Quartz, loved her more than any gem Yellow Tourmaline had ever seen. The Rose Quartz dismissed the applause, humbly, and then began to speak.

“You wonderful gems, you’ve worked so hard your entire life to please someone who doesn’t care about you, or your well-being. You’ve slaved away for the whims of a dictator who thinks you are a pile of sediment, unworthy. Those days are over. When you are under my command you are free to be whoever you want, and to fuse with whoever you want!”

There was another planet shaking roar of applause, Yellow just stood there, dumbfounded, she didn’t understand. The Rose quartz held up her hand to silence them once more.

“Though I would like to make one thing clear. There will still have to be a level of organization in my camps! You will be organized by your station, you won’t be shattered if you don’t listen, but if we want to do this properly, it would be preferred if you would do as I tell you. Though, all ideas are welcome! Pearl will continue from here.”

She then stepped away and resumed talking to the fusion, her pearl then started commanding everyone on where to go.

“The front lines will be stationed in the first two barracks, the blacksmiths will be stationed…..” her voice seemed to fade away.

After the meeting, Yellow knew exactly where she was to go, she was a general on the front lines (she had perfected the basic general appointment test) and would be staying with other generals in the barracks. She hadn’t met any of them yet, and wasn’t thrilled about staying a week with everyone else, but she knew she had to.

She pushed back the fabric of the tent and stepped in timidly, inside was a table with chairs and a few gems gathered around it, a few cots (she only recently learned what those were), and a weapons rack. As she walked in a few of the gems looked up at her, a few looked a little wary, but the others appeared friendly.

“Heya, we got a new one ‘ere!” exclaimed an Ametrine.

She got up from her table where the rest of the generals were huddled over a map, and approached her. Yellow backed up slightly, she wasn’t used to being interacted with in such a way.

“Ey, I’m not gonna ‘urt ya.” Ametrine gave her a pat on the shoulder, “I’m Ametrine, by the way, but you can call me Ame, everyone does.”

Ame looked her up and down to take her in, Yellow watched the evaluation process go on in her head, “Let’s see ‘ere, a newby most likely from, what, Yellow’s court?”

Yellow stiffened up, not used to the informal addressing of the name, “Yes.”

“Ah! rough, mate. I was too. She’s a bit cold, ain't she? Kinda emotionless, yeah?” Ame shook her head, hands in her pockets,“Yeah, I’m real glad I left when I did. I started feelin’ real low, always scared of gettin’ shattered, y’know? I’m feelin’ much betta’ under Rose’s command, though, no need to worry ‘bout little ol’ me.”

Yellow just gave a weak laugh.

“Ya don’t talk much do ya?” Ame remarked, “What’s ya name anyway?”

She straightened up, “I’m Yellow Tourmaline.”

“Do ya go by anythin’ shorter?”

“No.” she retorted simply.

“Well that’ll have to change.” Ame thought for a moment, “I’m sure durin’ trainin’ tomorrow a betta’ name will reveal itself.”

There was an awkward silence yet again, Yellow wasn’t very good at interacting like this.

“Lemme’ introduce ya to the team!” Ame said with fake or real enthusiasm, Yellow couldn’t tell.

“This is Black Opal, but we call her Bo. She don’t say much either, but she’s a great archer and an even betta’ general. Her surprise attacks are some of the best and smartest in the biz!” Ame pointed to a tall and darkly colored gem towards the left of the table, she looked up and simply nodded in greeting.

“Over there’s Emerald, but we just call her Bear. She got the name cuz’ we went on a scoutin’ mission, and ran across an earth creature, Rose said it's called a bear, and she got chased by that thing for hours! Once she got fed up though she stopped in her tracks and screamed in its face and scared it off into the woods! She’s more a bear than it was!” The Emerald rolled her eyes, she must’ve been used to the anecdote.

“There’s old Peach Sapphire over there, Bismuth, and oh that there’s Cat’s Eye, don’t mess with them, they’re a tricky one. I could tell ya a million stories about all these guys.” Ame laughed, but quickly stopped when she saw the unamused look on Yellow’s face, “Ah, but, I won’t… I won’t.”

Yellow strode across the room to the map on the table, and looked at it for a moment.

“Judging our strategies, are you?” Peach Sapphire retorted to Yellow’s glance at the map.

“Wha-... no.” Yellow lied.

“Ah well you were going to.” she mused.

“I thought only Blue Sapphire’s could predict the future.”she grumbled, realizing she had been caught.

“Hm, yes, and that’s where you're wrong. Blue Sapphires can predict the future more accurately than I, but no, they aren’t the only ones.” She sighed, “And if you’re worried that we won’t succeed without good incite on the future we have a rare Blue Sapphire on our team. She’s fused with Ruby, they go by Garnet by the way, she’s Rose’s lefthand gem.”

Yellow cringed slightly at the mention of fusion, “The Pearl is the right hand?” she clarified.

“Yes.” Peach sighed and looked back at the map, “Newcomers aren’t permitted to be strategists until they go through a week of training. Our apologies, but this war has been long and hard, I’ve lost friends, loved ones, excuse me if I don’t trust you right away.”

“I… see.” the room was silent, a distant grief hung in the air.

“I assume you aren’t one to sleep are you?” Emerald asked, breaking the emptiness, “The newbys usually aren’t.”

“No, I don’t sleep.” she replied.

“That’ll change!” Ame called from where she lay on her cot, her cap over her eyes.

A few of the other generals snickered.

“Well even if you don’t sleep I recommend resting on the cots until morning.” Emerald added kindly.

“Is there really nothing else I can assist with?” she asked, desperate, not loving the idea of being left alone with her thoughts, surrounded by strange gems.

“Not until we get a chore list, a training schedule, or a command.” Emerald replied.

“Or until Jasper comes in here and breaks something.” Peach muttered.

Ame laughed from her cot, even Black Opal snickered slightly.

Yellow sat in the cot the second closest to the tent opening. She lay down on her back stiffly, and closed her eyes, but when nothing changed she sat up and looked around. She hated the feeling of not being in charge, but she knew it was only going to have to be for a week.

After an hour or so of sifting through the pamphlets for newcomers, she was startled by a loud sound. The tent ripped open and a giant Jasper burst through with a terrified look on its face. Yellow jumped to her feet.

The Jasper ran over to where Ame lay presumably asleep and shook her violently.

“Ame! Ame!!” she cried, “You gotta wake up! Please wake up!”

“Wha-... Jazz what’s,” she yawned, “What’s goin’ on ya loon.”

“I was just-...I was just!” she panted and stuttered, “I was just-... practicing my acting! Free acting lessons with Jazz as soon as the sun goes down!”

“Nobody needs ya classes Jazz, not in this war. Besides no non-sleepin newby would ever join.” Ame muttered readjusting her cap.

Jasper stamped her foot, “Yeah, but MORALE! Ya know?” she turned excitedly to Yellow who felt more uncomfortable than ever before, “Hey, would you wanna join?”

“Uh… no.” She answered, Jazz frowned, “Uh I mean- no, not really.” she stuttered.

“Dang,” Jazz mused, “This one IS new. Welp, they're always open if ya ever change your mind.”

Jazz crashed onto an empty spot on the floor which had blankets, that were probably chipped in from the other generals, for her to lay on. Yellow hadn’t noticed the broken cot pieces before.

Yellow resumed her sitting position at the end of the makeshift bed and continued looking through the pamphlet, more to look busy, she had already read the entire thing. After an hour or so the other generals retired, save for Cat’s eye who, without a word, glided to the tent entrance and stood guard.

Once she determined it wouldn’t be awkward to stop reading, she layed back down, this time on her side. She stared at the dirty tent fabric.

It would just be for a week, then she could transform back into her usual form, get into her ship, and drive home with whatever plans she could find. Nobody would know, not even the others on homeworld. She could finally end this fight once and for all.

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