#Also i love drawing realistic teeth its so much fun | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sillyrabbit81 · 4 years ago

Text

The Instructor - Part 5

Summary: Augusts confronts your betrayal.

Pairing: August Walker x Female Reader

Word Count: approx 4k

Warnings: Dark, violence, abuse, choking, hitting, punching, orgasm denial, orgasm control, sex (p in v), mdom/fsub, switch, praise kink, degradation kink, name calling, dubious consent. I tried to mention everything if I missed something I sincerely apologise.

Authors Note: FINAL PART. There are probably going to be massive plot holes, sorry about that, this was never meant to be a series, so I didn’t do anywhere near the set up needed. However, I’m glad I did do a series because I enjoyed playing around with some of the darker aspects of the story. If it sucks, I'm sorry, I just went for it and this is what came out! It probably also isn't strictly cannon, but I made use of some aspects of the MI cannon.

Unbeta'd and unedited, there will be errors.

Masterlist

Part 4

The Instructor Part 5

You thought you had felt true fear before this moment, but you were wrong. Confronted with the unyielding stare of August, your stomach twists and your mouth goes dry. You’re completely and utterly fucked.

You try to answer August, make up a believable lie, beg forgiveness, say anything. But you can’t, it’s like he can see into your soul and you know that any lie you tell him will only make him angrier.

Quicker than lightning, August’s hands grip your throat. He pushes you to the wall, uncaring as your head hits it so hard your vision swims. Both his hands push into your neck, compressing your arteries and you feel the blood pooling, building pressure behind your eyes. This wasn’t the subtle choking he engaged in when you played. No, this was Special Agent August Walker trying to kill you.

You are stretched against the wall, your toes barely touch the ground. You are a trained soldier, but August is a trained assassin, you know you won’t last long in a situation like this, you will pass out in less than a minute. Then all August had to do was keep squeezing and you would be dust.

“Why, pet?” August asks through clenched teeth.

You can’t speak, you have no air. You plead to August with your eyes, silently begging him to stop. His hands press harder and you feel him crushing your trachea with his leathal hands. You scratch at his hands, his face, his eyes. You kick with your feet, frantic, feeling yourself get weaker by the second. You get one lucky shot in and for a moment August’s grip falters as he doubles over retching in pain.

You slam the palm of your hand into his forearms and he lets you go. You run for the door, your nudity the last of your concerns. Your throat hurts as you run, bruised and raw, you gulp breath in, coughing you try and fill your lungs again. You reach the door, pull the handle. It stops, not making a full rotation.

“Fuck!” you scream in frustration. You turn the lock and try to open in again. It does and for a brief moment you taste freedom.

A foot kicks the door closed and August is in front of you. You back away from him as he locks it again. In the unlikely event you live through this night, you will never forget the snarl on his face. You look into his eyes, expecting to see the eyes of a killer and August doesn’t disappoint. His azure eyes burn with such murderous intent, for a moment you think you are going to lose control of your bladder.

But there is something else there, something he tries to hide behind his fury. You search his face, trying to see past the mask and find what he is concealing. You wince when you see it. August was hurt. Your betrayal had hurt him.

“This is even more fun than the first time we fucked, Pet,” he says, mockingly. August advances on you with a bullish intent. He is magnificent as he stalks you, his loose pyjama pants hang low on his hips, his chest is taut and his thick ropey arms flex as he readies them for a fight.

You try and think clearly, maybe you should confess everything. He’s going to kill you if you don’t. If only you had long enough to check his records, but you couldn’t put your associates at risk if you weren’t sure.

Lifting your chin, you accept your fate. You ready a fighting stance, and August does too. You understand you can’t beat him, but you won’t die without a fight.

You dodge his first attack, and you’re not surprised that he led with his fists. He only needs one to land and he would break your bones. You retreat to the kitchen, praying its laid out the same as yours. Opening the draw with the knives, you pull one out. It’s not ideal, its weight wasn’t distributed well for fighting, but it was better than nothing. Your gun is in your room and you have no idea where August keeps his.

Turning the tables and going on the offensive, you make August back up and you move to the door. You hold the knife expertly, and as long as you keep August from getting his own weapon, the fight might be a fair one. You have so much adrenaline pumping through your veins you start to shake. The blade accentuates the tremors and August see’s, of course he would find your weakness.

“Put the knife down, Pet,” August orders, his voice was smooth, calm and commanding. You nearly stumble, his words sent shivers down your spine. How can he still have an effect on you? “You know I can’t let you out of here.”

You gage the distance to the door, it was still so far away. Your fear made you want to run to it again, but you knew it would be a mistake. Better to keep advancing slowly, forcing August back.

But August stops retreating and plants himself in front of the door. He stretches his neck, rolls his shoulders, his naked torso hides nothing and you see his muscles ripple under his skin. Your body and mind are in conflict, confused by the stimulus. You’re terrified of August, but fear of him and what he is capable of was part of his appeal, part of his savage, dominant sexuality. Your body can’t tell the difference and you feel it responding, your centre grows warm, throbbing and your arousal moistens the apex of your thighs.

“Please,” you murmur. Confronted with August’s obstruction and his dismissiveness of your threat, you lose hope. You feel weak and exhausted. Again, you contemplate confessing everything, but you aren’t a coward, you were realistic.

The cruel snarl on August’s face becomes a smirk as you plead. “I love hearing you beg, Pet,” he taunts.

He attacks again, this time grabbing a chair from the dining table. You try and duck but he is too fast for you and the solid wood chair cracks you over your head and shoulders. You stumble to the ground; your vision wavers and you nearly pass out. You try and get to your knees, but your arms won’t cooperate and you fall to the floor, no doubt you have a concussion. You look for the knife, see it about a metre away. With your head thumping and your heart racing, you scramble for it, but August reaches you first.

Gripping both your ankles, August uses your legs and body weight against you, flipping you onto your back. He pulls you to him, your skin rubs against the carpet and you howl with pain as you feel the fibres burn your ass and back. August climbs on top of you, his hands are at your throat again, squeezing the life from you.

“You’re killing me, August,” you try and say, but all you hear is your pathetic whimpers. You feebly punch and slap at August, but you are spent. You give up, you tried. You get angry at yourself for even thinking of giving up, but you didn’t know what else to do. You can’t win. Tears well in your eyes and start to roll down your cheeks. You squeeze them shut, ashamed that you cried in your last moments, that you gave up, that you didn’t fight.

The pressure on your throat relaxes, and you gulp in air, coughing and retching as your inflamed throat protests. You try to roll to your side to breath easier, but August doesn’t allow it, his body still traps yours and one hand still grips your throat. You feel his whiskered lips on your cheeks, kissing away your tears. You open your eyes and are consumed by his and the fire that burns within them. You wonder what your eyes are saying to his.

August shifts his hips and you feel him, hard under his thin pants. Your eyes widen, he really had been enjoying the fight. It scares you, feeling how hard and fully erect he his, aroused by trying to kill you. But you knew how hypocritical that was, because even now, terrified, a moment from death, you ache for him.

You roll your hips, sliding your bare, slick slit against August, the fabric of his pants harsh against your clit, but you feel him beneath it, and you can’t stop. You don’t want to but your craving for him was too strong.

If you didn’t know August as well as you did, you may have missed the surprise in his eyes. It came and went so quickly. His lip curled, triumphant, he had you where he wanted you, desperate, without fight left and completely his.

August’s arrogant look, his smug sneer, his complete domination of you made you lose the last shred of dignity you had and you beg for him.

“Please, please,” you whimper.

“You’re such a little whore,” August scolds you. “Do you think you can fuck your way out of this?”

You shake your head, “No.” You cry again, fat tears rolling down your cheeks in a constant stream, but you don’t stop your wanton grinding. You need to feel him inside you.

“Why are you so fucking wet, Pet?” August asks, his jeering tone warmed your face with shame.

“I don’t know!” you cry.

“Yes, you do, Pet.”

You try to turn away and hide from his knowing eyes. August won’t let you, griping your cheeks with his fingers, digging deep, the soft flesh pressing painfully against your teeth. Through your sobs you say, “Because I want you.”

“Beg me,” August’s voice changed, becoming low and hoarse. He starts to move with you, teasing you. “Beg for my cock.”

You don’t try to hold back, the words fall freely, “Please August, please.”

August tuts, “You can do better than that, Pet. Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me, August,” you sob. You’re ashamed of yourself, of how wet you are, how badly you want him, how easily you submit. But it feels too good, playing on the edge as you were, where fear and arousal become interchangeable, you had never felt such bliss.

Taking his pants off, August fists his cock as he takes you in, his gaze rakes over you, lingering on your desperate cunt. Lining himself up, he teases your entrance. When he slides himself over you, he groans as his eyes close and he throws his head back. You realise, you’re not as powerless as you thought, he wants you too and just as badly.

Bringing his head down next to yours, he growls in your ear, “Keep going, Pet. Tell me how badly you want me to fuck your hot little cunt.”

You start mumbling, “Please August, please. I need you.” You throw your arms around him, grip his ass and pull him closer. Your nails dig into his skin as you urge him into you.

With a violent thrust, August enters you. Both of you cry out, your twin shouts echo in each other’s ears. “You feel so good, pet. So wet and so fucking tight.” You mewl under him. He is stretching you, painfully. He offered your core no preparation and it protested his invasion, clamping down hard. August wasn’t fucking around, if he had taken any pity on you in the past, he wasn’t this time. He pumps into you, his pelvis making long driving strokes, your walls straining against the force of his cock, unready for his intrusion.

August hooks your knees over his arms and forcing your legs wider, he is finally sheathed. Increasing his pace, he uses you, furious, punishing and without pity. He offers you no pleasure, he takes what he wants. His face above you is twisted, angry, and hateful. This is payback, revenge, hurt me and I’ll destroy you. But despite that, or maybe because you feel you deserve it, a familiar pressure starts to build between your legs.

“August,” you beg. “I need to cum, please.”

Leaning down, pushing his weight onto your already strained legs, he brings his face to yours. His eyes are dark and sadistic as he says vindictively, “No.”

You groan. You were so close, you don’t know if you can stop it. “Please!” you howl. Fresh tears fill your eyes and you implore him.

“No.” August says, his voice cruel and merciless. “You cum and I’ll fuck your ass raw.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. You try and think of all the parts of your body that hurt. Your head, shoulders, legs, the skin on your back rubbing against the carpet. But it doesn’t work. Your body is so warm, tingling, your skin feels alive and the pain is dull compared to the rapture you feel.

Your body is suddenly wrest from the floor. August withdraws from you and flips you onto your knees and violates you again. You feel August’s hand in your hair and he forces your face into the floor. You heard a thud next to your head, his foot is there, and he continues his assault, kneeling on one leg anchoring himself with the other.

You bite your hand to muffle your shouts, you don’t want to give August the satisfaction of hearing your pain or pleasure. You thought he was deep before, but now you feel every impact in your gut, your core uncomfortably full from his brutal jabs. You can’t stay on your knees, your legs too weak to withstand his punitive thrusts. August doesn’t care. He digs his fingers into your hips, holding you in place as he continues his ruthless assault.

Unable to stop it, you feel your release approach again. You try to deny it, but the savagery of August is too much. The feel of your bodies slaming together, the slapping of his balls against your clit, the sound of his grunts of exertion overwhelm you and you can’t stop yourself from whining, “Please, August. Please. I’m fucking begging you.”

You hear August’s malicious chuckle. “No, Pet.”

August seizes you by the nape, pulling you up to your knees and your back presses against his chest. Wrapping his hand around your neck, he holds you against his shoulder. His other hand moves over your breasts, kneading into them, squeezing them. His face is close to yours, you feel his ragged breath tickle your cheeks.

He starts whispering in your ear and he presses his rough hairy lip into you. “You fucking little bitch,” his voice was low, harsh and dripping with venom, but August can’t stop his desire from seeping through. “Who sent you to me? Who told you to whore yourself for me?” He pinches at your nipples, and you shudder against him writhing. His insults pushing you towards your climax as much as his touch.

“Was it the CIA?” he asks, sliding his hand down your belly to between your legs. Fear makes your heart skip, if he touched you there you would not be able to stop your orgasm. You try and pull away, but he is too strong.

“Did those useless government hacks, turn you into a fucking whore, or did you volunteer, Pet?” He slid his fingers over your slit, and one grazed your clit sending your core pulsing around his cock. You want to tell him he has it all wrong, backwards. He thinks he’s been caught, he doesn’t know he’s being recruited.

He slaps your clit with his palm, a quick flick of his wrists that shocks you and if August wasn’t holding you up, you would have doubled over in pain and ecstasy.

“Don’t fucking cum.” August orders, rubbing a calloused finger over your oversensitive clit. Then, he says, sadly and with regret, “You could have come to me, Pet. Told me. I would have protected you. I could have gotten you out.” His voice almost cracks as he adds, “We could have gotten out together. BE together.”

You want to tell him, you want that too. You didn’t mean to fall for him either, none of this was planned. His fingers dance over your hard nub, coaxing from you the orgasm he forbids. Frustration suddenly pours out of you. You fight him again, punching the arm he had wrapped around your waist, and between your legs.

“Why do you fight so hard, Pet?” he asks. Those simple words he said to you all those months ago rock you. It was his invitation to submit willingly rather than be pulled under by the force of his will. But it was different this time, it wasn’t just you at stake.

You beg again, “August…” It’s all you can say through your short gasping cries. You break out in sweat, the need in you was so strong it took everything you had to fight it.

“Answer my question and you can cum,” He says. You nod, vigorously, you don’t even feel shame at giving in so easily, you’re too far gone. He brings his face in front of yours. Your whole body is shaking under his touch as he draws your orgasm and confession out of you.

“Were you sent by the CIA?”

You shake your head, and whimper, “No.”

August looks into your eyes for a hint of a lie. When he can’t find one, he coos, “Good girl,” and you wriggle at his praise. He kisses you roughly, lips hard against yours. “You can cum now, Pet.”

With unrestrained cries, you finally allow the pressure in your core to grow. You feel your release roll over your contorting body. Your guttural shout signals you’re the arrival of your long denied ecstasy and tears streamed from your eyes as you succumb with immense relief.

August watched every second of your orgasm, his face studying yours as if to memorise every expression, until you were done and can’t hold yourself up anymore. He removes himself with a gentleness that was unexpected and he tenderly carries you to his room. Cradling your head against his chest, he kisses your forehead, muttering something you can’t catch and were too far gone to ask.

He lays you on your side, and you are so malleable and weak, you let him curl you into a ball before he leans over you. He lifts your chin and turns your head so you are looking at him. You give him a half smile, which he returns with a soft hum. His eyes go to your collar and a look of sadness crosses his face, a grief so intense you feel it too.

You don’t know what to say and neither does August. He does the only thing he knows how to do when he feels what some people call love. He fucks.

When August enters you this time it’s different. Although his thrusts are brutal and powerful, it’s not punishment. He is trying to make a connection, to see if there is something salvageable between you. He needs to know if he means anything to you. He drops his forehead onto yours, resting there while his eyes met yours. He holds your throat and his thumb plays with your thin golden collar.

“You’re still mine, Pet,” August says, firmly.

“Always yours,” you reply with certainty. And you were. But by the end of this night he would know he was yours too.

As if to seal the promise you made, August kisses you. His lips pry yours open and his gentle explorative tongue massages yours. When you kiss him back, you are surprised by the growl he makes in his throat. Feeling bold, you place a hand on his cheek as you kiss. He doesn’t pull away so you slide your other hand into his hair and you expect him to shake you off, like he did before. He allows it, and he slides his free arm around you, pulling your bodies together. The rhythm you find together is nothing like the primal fucking you two are used to. It seemed as though he was making love to you, as much as someone like August could.

You feel the warmth grow again and radiate from your core. August instinctively knows your close again and stops your kisses watch you again. “Come for me, my sweet girl,” he utters.

You fall apart. Your fist tightens in his hair, you tremble beneath him, while you call his name.

“Fuck,” he grunts while you fall over the edges, and he forces himself deep within you, splitting you, owning you as you feel him thicken and pulse, releasing his seed into your milking core. Then he breaks you by growling your name as he makes his final throes.

You’re both slick with sweat, but August doesn’t care and he brushes your face with kisses. He looks like he wants to say something, opening his mouth and closing it again without saying a word. He helps you get up and he walks you to his bathroom.

August runs you a bath, and he sits on the edge for a while, watches you while you bathe. He showers quickly before returning to his spot.

Finally, he speaks, but he looks away as he says it, and for the first time you see August doubt himself, “If not the Agency, then who?” He asks.

“We have no government affiliation,” you say.

He nods, “Why did they send you, was the plan always to use sex?”

“No, August,” you say honestly. “This was not part of the plan. I was only supposed to be assigned to you while I did my training. This assignment was last minute, I don’t even know how it happened.”

He turns his attention back to you and looks for the lie he believes he will find. When he doesn’t find it he asks, “Your aunt, was that a lie?”

“She’s officially missing,” you say. “Unofficially, she brought me into group.”

“Something doesn’t add up, Pet,” August says. “I’m don’t know anything that a hundred other agents don’t also know. What did they send you to find out?”

“You don’t get it. We don’t want to bring you down, we want to recruit you. I had to make sure you are who we think you are.”

You see a glimpse of understanding in August’s eyes. “Go on,” he prompts.

You watch him carefully as you explain, “My assignment was to find out if you were the one who wrote a certain manifesto making the rounds in certain circles.” He doesn’t blink. You smirk, realising he’s trying too hard to keep his face smooth. He is the one.

“And, am I?” he asks.

“You are,” you say moving down the bath. Unbelievably, knowing he wrote that poetic and chaotic brilliance made you hot again. “This operation is all wrong, too big for simple arms traders. You’re using the CIA to get the connections and resources you need.” You run your finger down August’s bare arm, tracing the ridges of his muscles and the slight protruding veins on his forearms. August watches you intently, trying to appear cold, but you see his breaths grow shallow and his jaw clench. “We have the resources to help a man like you,” You reach his hand, turn it palm up, and lay a kiss into it before holding it to your cheek. “’A man with vision’ Lane calls you.”

“Lane?” August says, he seems confused, and he should be.

“Yes, meet with Solomon Lane and you will get your new world August.” You take his hand off your cheek and fold down his fingers except for the middle one. You take him in your mouth curling your tongue around him, and sucking.

August can’t look away. Already thrown by being discovered, he is completely transfixed by your sudden seduction.

“How?” he breathes.

You open your mouth and show August his finger sliding down your tongue. You get out of the bath and stand in front of August. You move his finger down your body, between your breasts, over your belly and between your thighs. You slide his finger between your warm folds and you hear August groan as you rest him against your entrance.

You ask him, “Have you, ever heard of the Syndicate, Pet?”

End

Tag List

@henryobsessed @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @posiemax @nostalgicb-txh @moonlacebeam @anitababi @agniavateira @blakerogue @shadesofarrogance @mansaaay @stxlemate @wheretheriversrunintothesea @amberangel112 @madbaddic7ed @eldarwen333 @wolvesandhoundshowltogether

I have a feeling I missed someone, if I did, let me know!

#august walker #august walker fanfiction #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #august walker x you #august walker x reader #august walker smut

467 notes · View notes

transdemigod · 3 years ago

Text

Cutting Yourself Off from the Entities: A Comprehensive Guide

I am once again overanalyzing the Magnus Archives for fun. This topic is super interesting to me, and I haven’t seen it explored as much as other theories, so here we go.

So, you’ve pledged yourself to one of the Dread Powers, but decided that you’ve had enough of terrorizing others. Not to worry, there is a way out. Melanie King did it and lived all the way to the end of the series!

Here is the summary, though I’m sure a full explanation will be more satisfying:

To escape the Buried, lose yourself to the emptiness. To escape the Corruption, kill what loves you. To escape the Dark, give yourself to the sunlight. To escape the Desolation, choose kindness. To escape the End, cut yourself off from dreams. To escape the Eye, blind yourself. To escape the Flesh, give up control of your body. To escape the Hunt, tear out your teeth and claws. To escape the Lonely, bind yourself to others. To escape the Slaughter, remove your emotions. To escape the Spiral, destroy your voice. To escape the Stranger, make yourself known. To escape the Vast, trap yourself in a small place. To escape the Web, give up your autonomy.

The rest is under the cut. Let me know if you have any ideas that you think I missed, I would love to discuss theories.

We know for sure that the way to escape the Eye is to gouge your own eyes out. The other entities have less information, but we get a few clues here and there. In the season 4 Q&A, Jonny and Alex joke about leaving the service of the Stranger by running naked through the streets. They also mention that the Desolation can be left by an act of true altruism. With these details, as well as other details in the rest of the canon, we can make a list of criteria that must be satisfied for an act that will cut someone off from each of the 14 Entities.

Firstly, it isn’t enough to just stop feeding your god. Daisy and Jon both tried to abstain and ended up wasting away, and it is implied that they would have died if they had continued. Dying is certainly one possible way to escape the service of a Fear, but we’re going for living out the rest of your natural life here.

Secondly, there has to be some sacrifice made that relates to the specific power. This is where the Desolation’s explanation kind of falls apart; doing one good act doesn’t stop you from just continuing to be destructive, so the act must also include giving up the thing that ties you to your Entity. In the Stranger’s case, one could argue that exposing yourself does count as giving up your anonymity, and there are several Stranger avatars that seem to thrive on being unknown. My theory is that each Entity has a draw of some kind, a power that it gives its followers, which you would have to completely give up if you are to leave it for good. Jon mentioned that the blinding has to be permanent, so I’m assuming this applies to the others as well. Basically, the avatar who wishes to leave must give up something that one who does not wish to leave would never want to.

Third, the change can be physical or symbolic. Obviously blinding yourself is a very physical change, while committing acts of altruism or making yourself known are less so. Some of the Entities will have pretty clear parts of the body that connect you to the power, others will need a bit more of an explanation. In special cases where a person gets their power from an artifact or a Leitner, destroying the thing would probably be enough to cut them off from that power. And of course, if you are as lucky as Georgie Barker and manage to completely get rid of your fear, that would probably be enough to cut you off from them as well.

So, here are my explanations for what you would have to do to cut yourself off from each of the 14. I’m basing it on examples we get in the series, the few rules I have decided to set, and what would seem thematically or symbolically appropriate. Realistically, each individual would have their own personal journey and each avatar is different, but it’s more fun this way.

The Buried- The draw of the Buried is a little difficult to narrow down, we’ve heard about restfulness, the comfort of enclosed spaces, the desire to be a part of the earth, etc. The thing Buried avatars seem to dislike the most is wide open spaces, though I don’t know how that would translate to something you can change about yourself. How would a person cut themselves off from the earth? You could move to a place that is very open, but you could also just leave. I’m not sure if there is a way a person could give up the concept of space, so I’m probably going to have this same problem when I get to the Vast. Probably the only thing you could give up that makes sense is the type of space the Buried is tied to, so you’d have to keep away from enclosed spaces. However you’re supposed to do that, I have no idea. This one is just going to have to be a less satisfying answer, unless I find another idea later.

To escape the Buried, lose yourself to the emptiness.

The Corruption- Most people who get into the Corruption get filled with bugs, and we know from Jane that it is appealing because you have a sense of belonging and purpose. The Corruption focuses a lot on toxic love, and I think communities specifically because the things we think of as infections are multitudinous: insect hives, bacteria, fungal colonies, etc. Even in the case of that one guy with the beetle wife, it was implied that there would soon be many more beetles. So, I think to stop being fed by the Corruption, you have to get rid of the infection in whatever form it takes. The one woman in the statement about the cult ended up leaving, but she wasn’t a full avatar, so I think that would require a bit more drastic action. If Jane had wanted to leave, she would probably have had to kill every worm inside of her. Knowing what we know about her, she would never want to do that, but she also had no regrets about becoming the Hive. Someone like John Amherst would have to get rid of all the diseases inside of him, so it might be as simple as a hospital visit and getting pumped full of antibiotics. If you got hollowed out by bugs, you might have to fill in the space somehow to be able to move, but I’m sure you could find a way. Maybe some help from the Flesh? It does seems to be in opposition to the Corruption in many ways, so that would work thematically.

To escape the Corruption, kill what loves you.

The Dark- Another abstract one. What’s the opposite of blinding yourself? The Dark, aside from the literal definition, includes things like weird science and unknowable things that lurk in the dark. Seeking knowledge would be a good opposite to darkness, but that’s not making a sacrifice or a permanent change. It’s not very clear what avatars of the Dark would hate to lose. Manuela Dominguez describes hating the light, how traditional divinity and knowledge are unnatural as opposed to the dark state of the world. This might be another location based one. Apparently, the sunniest places in the world are in northern Africa and the southwest parts of America, so moving there might do it. There isn’t an easy permanent change to make, but committing yourself to being in the sunlight as much as possible would probably work. Change your sleep schedule, move somewhere sunny, just avoid the dark in general. Maybe even start worshipping the sun; that would be in opposition to the cult following the Dark has.

To escape the Dark, give yourself to the sunlight.

The Desolation- We know it’s an act of altruism. I think it might need some adjusting, though, to make it more of a sacrifice by the person who serves the Desolation. This fear is all about sacrifice and loss, so it’s a bit tricky to think of something a Desolation avatar could give up when they’ve already committed to giving up everything. Well, everything except themselves. Many avatars, like Jude Perry, have shown themselves to be selfish, but I don’t think even they would be opposed to going out in a blaze of glory. No, the hardest thing for them would be to settle down and live a prosperous life. This one probably would have to be continuous effort instead of one grand sacrifice. It doesn’t fit with the others, but it does fit the theme of the Desolation. Yeah, I’ve just gone in a big circle. Altruism does make the most sense. Just make sure that selfless gesture counts. It’s not a real choice if you don’t mean it. I guess that would be really difficult if you’re used to burning everything around you, so maybe it’s more of a sacrifice than I thought.

To escape the Desolation, choose kindness.

The End- We actually already have a canon answer for this one: lobotomize yourself. Adelard Dekker found an End avatar that was killing people with carbon monoxide through their dreams, and he stopped him by cutting through his pre-frontal cortex- the part of the brain that lets you dream. It’s implied that this didn’t completely work, but I think the reason for that is that the avatar was not the one to make the choice. It’s emphasized again and again that serving the fears is all about personal choice, so it makes sense that any attempt to cut someone off wouldn’t take if the person hasn’t decided to give up their connection. The End is associated with dreams in most appearances, so I believe that a person who chooses not to dream would no longer be bound to it. Oliver Banks could see those whose deaths were coming in his dreams, which directly led to him becoming an avatar, so if he had decided to stop dreaming, that would be it. This procedure might be a bit difficult, I can’t imagine performing your own lobotomy would go very well, but I’m sure getting someone else to do it would count if you were the one to make the decision. Of course, Terminus would still have you in the end, but that will happen no matter what you do.

To escape the End, cut yourself off from dreams.

The Eye- This one is already answered. The draw of the Eye is the power to watch, so you have to give that ability up. Simple, straightforward, and definitely fits the theme.

To escape the Eye, blind yourself.

The Flesh- Oh boy, this is a weird one. We have dysphoria, consumption, body horror, I can’t say this one sounds very appealing. But it must be, or else it wouldn’t have people serving it. A lot of the draw to serve the fears could be interpreted as dishing out what you can’t take. You don’t have to be afraid of being watched if you do the watching, you don’t have to fear harm if you harm them first. Maybe the appeal of Flesh is making others share that fear that you are nothing but meat. I don’t think it’s really possible for people to give up their corporeal form, unless it’s metaphorical but I have no idea what that could mean. I think those who serve the Flesh thrive on being “more” than others. More body parts, more mass in general. You could go on a diet or become a vegetarian, which I think the writers may have joked about once? I want a more concrete solution, though. Diets are easy to break. You can’t fully give up food without dying, so I guess you could give up the control of food. Giving up your sense of taste would be interesting, but I’m going to keep it more general. No easy answer for this one either.

To escape the Flesh, give up control of your body.

The Hunt- People are drawn to the Hunt by that deep, primal desire to chase and attack. Humans have both predator and prey instincts inside of us, so you would have to completely leave the predator behind to escape the Hunt. I think a good way to do this would be the get rid of your teeth, or nails, whichever you use to cause harm. Daisy was able to temporarily leave behind her power in the Buried, but as soon as she got out, she started starving. I think this is a good argument that you could partially cut off your power by using a power that opposes it in some way, but you would have to give up a part of yourself to make it stick. As soon as she had the freedom and ability to hunt again, that was when the urge came back, and she eventually succumbed to it. Getting rid of the parts of your body that do harm wouldn’t completely stop you if you were dedicated enough, but it’s the choice to do so that matters. This one is a bit more of a symbolic choice, and you could probably do something else to your body that would prevent it from hunting, but I am going with the cooler option.

To escape the Hunt, tear out your teeth and claws.

The Lonely- Probably all you have to do to escape the Lonely is just…be around other people. I’m sure this is easier said than done, but there are lots of ways to commit to other humans. Get married, join a club, make a blood pact and permanently bind yourself to another human. The possibilities are endless! This one, I think more than the others, would require a bit more of a continued effort. I know that the whole point is to make one drastic, permanent change, but the Lonely feels like something that’s easy to relapse into. Maybe it’s the depression metaphor, I don’t know, but I don’t think this one has as easy a solution as the others. It’s hard work forcing yourself to stay connected to others, and it’s something most people in real life struggle with. Giving up any of these powers is a difficult choice, which is the whole point. Life is hard, and we have to make tough decisions. Anyway, I’m okay letting this one be a bit more abstract.

To escape the Lonely, bind yourself to others.

The Slaughter- This one is very similar to the Hunt in terms of actions, so I think the solution might be similar as well. Destroying your weapon would fit well, but it is just way too easy to pick up something else and continue hacking and slashing away. To give up violence entirely, you might have to destroy a significant part of your body. For the Slaughter, I think we should go with a less physical act. The opposite of violence is healing, so maybe become a doctor? You would have to really commit to helping others instead of hurting them, and that is too easy to go back on. I think the sacrifice made here would have to be emotion. Anger and the desire to hurt would go away if you couldn’t feel anymore. I don’t know how you would do this, except through drugs, but that isn’t permanent. There is probably a part of the brain you could destroy that causes emotion. It’s not the same as the prefrontal cortex, which we destroyed back in the End section, so at least it’s not the same solution twice. Honestly, the drugs could work if you did them long term, it’s about the choice anyway. However you do it:

To escape the Slaughter, remove your emotions.

The Spiral- The draw of the Spiral is the power to lie and deceive. There are many ways to do this, and there are probably just as many ways to stop yourself from doing it. However, there is one way that I think fits very well and is absolutely a permanent change: destroy your voice. This is actually the first one I thought of because even though it’s not technically the only way to stop yourself from lying, it fits very well thematically. Michael as the Distortion calls itself the Throat of Delusion Incarnate, so what better way to break yourself off from the same power then by tearing out your throat? It’s not perfect, but I like it so much that I’m going to pick it. I don’t know how one would go about destroying one’s voice, except with very careful surgery. Or screaming for a very long time.

To escape the Spiral, destroy your voice.

The Stranger- We got our answer to this one in the Q&A. Run naked through the streets, and make sure to engage with everyone who talks to you so that you can’t hide. Utterly terrifying. It makes perfect sense though; we heard from the Not!Them that beings of the Stranger hate losing their anonymity. Whether by switching skins, tricking the mind, or looking so generic that no one can remember your face, being known is antithetical to the Stranger. There are probably other ways to go about losing your anonymity then running around naked. You could get up on a stage somewhere and pour your heart out, or publish an autobiography. Basically anything the Eye would like. As long as you are putting yourself out there in a way that you can’t take back, you should be able to successfully cut yourself off from that uncanny fear.

To escape the Stranger, make yourself known.

The Vast- This one might actually be easier than the Buried, because it’s not purely spatial. It includes things like longevity, our insignificance in the face of a massive universe, and large scary things in general. A Vast avatar would hate to be enclosed, but they would also hate to be made responsible. They enjoy making others afraid of their insignificance, but what if they were important to the universe? What if the world was actually very small, and they fit neatly into it instead of being lost? There’s a lot of different ways to go here, so narrowing down one sacrifice might not be the best answer. I can’t really think of any one action that makes a person feel as though the world is small and trapping them. Giving themselves to the Buried would, probably. A direct contrast is the easiest answer.

To escape the Vast, trap yourself in a small place.

The Web- Avatars of the Web are manipulators, through and through. There are so many ways to manipulate a person that no one action could prevent you from doing that, so this one would likely vary a lot between individuals. That movie director who had people puppet him in his own house comes to mind, I think giving up your freedom like that is a good way to do it. Being paralyzed wouldn’t stop you if you used your voice to control others, and giving up both would suck, but if that’s what you need to do, then I guess it’s your choice to make. Maybe all you would need to do is let someone else tell you what to do, and fully trust them. That would be difficult, coming from the Web where everything is tied together and you know how easy it is to manipulate you.

To escape the Web, give up your autonomy.

#tma #the magnus archives #the buried #the corruption #the dark #the desolation #the end #the eye #the flesh #the hunt #the lonely #the slaughter #the spiral #the stranger #the vast #the web #tma entities #tma analysis

124 notes · View notes

noir0neko · 4 years ago

Text

satan on the strip | m

“But parties of two are my favorite.”

rating: very mature

paring: jungkook x reader

includes: lots of sexual tension, also sex, praise!kink, pet names, magic, drinking, other nefarious behavior, a lot of sexual thoughts, maybe some biting and maybe some air play and begging and cursing and just,,, it’s mature content folks, proceed with caution

word count: 3.5k

a/n: Hi!!! It has been a hOT minute since I was here. I was just toasting some bagels this morning when this idea popped into my head and I knew I had to write it. Shoutout to bagels for giving me inspo, even though bagels are not in this fic in any way. If you would like to read along to what I was listening to when I wrote, here is the little playlist: “Miracle” by CHVRCHES. “Love on the Brain” by Rihanna, “Hypnotic” by Zella Day and “Locked Out of Heaven” by Bruno Mars. ENJOY! I am super happy to post something again!

“Come on!” Your friends try to flag you over to the dance floor from your very comfortable seat at the bar. You hold up your drink as an excuse and take a sip, letting the bitter liquid burn a path down your throat. They scoff and give you a dirty look, but continue dancing, throwing themselves around wildly to the music.

It’s the night of one of your best friend’s bachelorette parties, and of course, she wanted to have it in Las Vegas. And also of course, your ex boyfriend is the best man for her soon to be husband. And triple of course, they decided to crash the bachelorette party and you have now been watching another random girl grind on your ex for the past twenty minutes.

You take another drink, sighing heavily before turning back around to the bar.

“Long night already?” A voice says from behind you, deep and low.

You swing your head to the side, getting an eyeful of the very tall and very handsome man who has taken a seat at the bar. His hair is dark and straight, waving lightly over his forehead. His skin is pale, clear, and smooth, with eyes so bottomless and deep they almost look black. He is wearing a gray v-neck shirt with dark wash jeans that have rips in the knees, exposing more of his pale skin and you can’t help but notice he has bright red shoes on.

“I guess,” You shrug, taking another sip of your drink and moving it to the other side of your body. Just to be safe.

“I’ll take that it's going to be an even longer one, if your friends are all of the bachelorette girls.” He smiles with his straight teeth and full mouth. “Unless you just wanted to match with a bunch of random strangers for no reason.”

You sigh again, fingering the stupid sparkly sash around your dress with an absent finger. Your friends had insisted on wearing little black dresses and pairing them with ridiculously bright and glittering sashes that say different things. Luckily, yours is one of the more tame sayings, with “Wild Princess” printed on it in big cursive letters. You feel anything but wild. All you want to do is leave and crawl into bed with a book and sleep. Or maybe cry and try not to replay the image of your ex dancing with another girl and not giving a damn about you over and over again.

“I wish I was randomly matching,” You take another drink. “Sometimes a party of one is better than anything else.”

The mysterious stranger gives you a mischievous smile. “Parties of one are great. But parties of two are my favorite. Anything above that is just a crowd.”

You laugh despite myself, nodding along in agreement. Deciding to not sit and wallow all night, you place your hand in the space between you and introduce yourself. He takes your hand and electric currents run up your arms, pushing a shiver down your spine.

“I’m Jungkook.” He says, smiling again.

With his arm out, you can see the beginning of a tattoo curling around his bicep and under the sleeve of his shirt. Your eyes follow it, trying to decipher its long, coiling shape before he pulls back. His eyes seem alive and glowing, their almond shape crinkling in the corners as he looks at you.

You clear your throat. “What brings you here?”

“Oh you know,” he says vaguely, gesturing for the bartender. “Work.”

“This hardly seems like work,” you quirk an eyebrow.

“Semantics,” Jungkook chuckles. “I am in the entertainment business.”

He orders his drink, a clean bourbon, and then turns back to you, a secretive smile on his face. It’s like he can sense what you are going to say before it comes out of your mouth. “Movies?” You can totally imagine him in an action film.

He shakes his head.

“Television?” You guess.

He shakes his head again, thanking the bartender as he slides a drink along the counter.

“Music?” You try again.

“You’re getting warmer,” he leans in closer and you can smell the alcohol and musky scent of him. It’s almost more intoxicating than your drink. “Magic.”

“Magic?” You repeat, stupefied.

“Yes,” he sits back and your head clears. “Magic.”

“Like rabbits out of hats and throwing knives at spinning people?”

He seems to think for a second, as if actually considering your joke as a statement. “A bit more sophisticated than that, but yes. That’s the idea.”

You narrow your eyes at him, turning to face your body towards his. “Show me.”

“I don’t think you’re ready for the kind of magic I have, Princess.” He says slyly, eyes dipping to your sash again. You scoff, taking the sash off and placing it on the bar. His grin grows and he leans back into you.

You swear you can feel electricity sizzling in the space between you two, desperate to follow the high he’s bringing. “Show me,” you say again, a challenge in your voice.

“Alright,” his voice is so low you don’t know how you can hear him over the deafening music and yelling, but it’s as if there is no one else but you and him. “All of your friends are now wishing that they were in your place, when they were making fun of you for sitting here before. You wish you didn’t have to be here, but you are a supportive friend and know how much it would hurt if you left early. Your boyfriend over there is thinking about punching me and wants to know who I am and why you stopped being jealous to pay attention to me.”

You blanch, trying to discreetly look to the side to see the dance floor. You can see all of your friends out there, stealing glances your way in between steps and body rolls. You can see two of them giggling and whispering, wagging their eyebrows at you as they catch your glance. Then you see your ex, no longer with the woman from before, but making his way over from across the floor, his jaw set and eyes blazing.

His angry face.

Your stomach flips, but there is some smug satisfaction in his reaction as you turn back to Jungkook. He seems completely unaffected by your oncoming ex, but is staring directly at you. You think his eyes could burn you from the inside out if you let them.

“What do you want to do?” He asks, his word ricocheting deep inside of you.

“I want to leave,” you say, the words leaving your mouth before your brain can catch up. “Can we go?”

“Of course we can, Princess.” Jungkook smiles, standing up and offering you his arm.

You gather your things and join him, careful to not meet any of your friend’s eyes as you let Jungkook walk you towards the door. Hadn’t they been pushing you to hook up all weekend? Hadn’t they been throwing you at guys and giving guys your number since the party started? And even more because of the presence of your ex?

The thought of him makes you grin and you look back to find him staring after you, clenching and unclenching his fists in agitation. Your smile widens and you can’t help but wave at him as you leave. Fuck him.

You see your friends waving and jumping up and down excitedly, practically bouncing with happiness at the new development in your boring life. Jungkook’s arm is warm and hard around yours, static and heat pooling in the best parts of you. Close up, you can see the black lines and dots of his tattoo, but still can’t make out what it is. Your brain begins to question what you’re doing. This man is a complete stranger. And you’re in Las Vegas walking out of a bar with him. Every single horror film and terrible thing to happen to a woman always starts out this way. You start to rethink your choice, opening your mouth to tell him you’re going back.

“Spend an hour with me,” Jungkook says, snagging your attention and the words from your lips. The night air is hot still, the street loud and bustling with people walking to and fro.

“What?” You furrow your eyebrows.

“One hour,” he repeats. “Spend one hour with me. If you want to go back after that, I’ll bring you.”

“One hour?” You sound like a broken record.

One hour. What can happen in one hour in one of the most crowded places in the United States? You both can just walk around, maybe get some food. One hour only has sixty minutes, after all and on the strip, that time would go by impossibly fast. Not to mention, the last thing you realistically want to do is walk the strip alone or go back into the bar without Jungkook and with your tail between your legs. You know your ex would have a field day and your friends would be so pitiful. Maybe it is about time to get wild.

“One hour.” You say definitively. A statement this time.

Jungkook leans in and you smell him again, musky and hot. “Then, I am determined to make it the best hour of your life.”

His words bring fierce shivers down your spine. What have you gotten yourself into?

Before you know it, your predictions seem to come true. A half hour passes without notice as you and Jungkook walk in and out of hotels, restaurants and bars. Jungkook asks you about your life, your hobbies, and does little magic tricks for you along the way. Pulling pennies from behind your ears and predicting cards before the dealer draws them. You’re laughing and smiling and living and noticing how beautiful he is when he smiles. How dark his eyes are and how you want to stare into them forever. How perfectly his eyebrows frame his face and how his cheekbones and jaw make him seem carved out of marble.

“Have you ever thought about playing?” You ask him after you exit Caesar’s Palace. He had correctly guessed every single card before it was shown on the table and helped one of the players win big. Although it has to be well after 2 in the morning, the night is bustling and alive. Dancers are on the sidewalks in big feathers and bikini costumes, people dressed as Disney characters and superheroes are posing for pictures, and tourists are drinking and laughing and mingling with one another.

“No,” Jungkook laughs, secrets in the sound. “I don’t need money.”

“Doesn’t everyone need money?”

Jungkook looks at you, tilting his head to the side. “There are things money can’t buy.”

“Like what?” You ask.

“Purity,” Jungkook responds. And the answer is so weird you stop walking.

“Purity?” You put your hands on your hips, half mocking him. “Like chastity?”

Jungkook moves close to you, looking down at you with those deep and confusing eyes. Your lips are part of their own volition. You want to kiss him. You want to do a lot more than kiss him.

“Not chastity,” Jungkook looks wistful. Almost sad. “Heaven. The purity of it. When you fall, you can’t buy your way back in.”

Heaven. You think to yourself, looking at this man who seems to be a fallen angel himself. Beautiful and dark and full of magic, real or not, that pulls something buried deep inside of you and brings it to the surface. You hate how sad he looks, how regretful and reproachful. You want to ease his pain, you want to give him a slice of Heaven, a slice of the world, to see him smile and his eyes crinkle again.

And hell, if you don’t want to give yourself a piece of Heaven, of him, as well.

Without thinking, you pull him into an alley between hotels. The night is hot and starless, the smell of sweat and alcohol and lowered inhibitions in the air. You don’t feel fully in control of your body, letting instinct guide you and Jungkook into the dark narrow street.

“Time is almost up,” Jungkook reminds you.

You growl in response, not even sure you know how to make such a sound. Not sure where this all consuming emotion has come from. “I don’t care.”

Reaching out for him, you slam your bodies together and crash your lips onto his. You fit together perfectly, like two pieces of a long lost puzzle you didn't even know you’d been trying to solve. You push Jungkook’s hair back, catching a glimpse of small stud earrings in his ear. The jewelry is extremely sexy and you feel even more eager than you did before to feel him.

Taking more control, Jungkook pushes you back until you hit one of the walls. You can hear the laughter and sounds of people around you on either side of the alley, walking up and down the strip and drinking. It would be so easy for someone to look in and see you both, obviously involved in much more than an innocent kiss.

He touches you and you feel like you might break a part into a million little pieces. His touch is shocking, little fires trailing behind his fingers as they roam down the bare skin of your arms. Your back arches into the stone behind your head, a moan ripping from your throat when his fingers graze the skin of your neck. Jungkook is watching you with a feral gaze, licking his lips before leaning in to run his lips and teeth over your throat. You grip the front of his shirt, desperate to feel more. To feel everything.

Jungkook crowds you closer to the wall, aligning his body to press against yours. You can feel the rises and plains of his muscle and frame through your thin dress. Your breasts peak with anticipation, a tingling sensation building low in your stomach. Jungkook hooks his hands around your thighs, the feeling of his bare skin on yours eliciting a string of curse words from your mouth. You’re ready to beg him to touch you where you need it.

Luckily you don’t have to.

Once he has you firmly against the wall, with your legs hooked around his midsection, he curves his arm around your leg and lets his fingers graze you. There is nothing blocking his touch and the contact and slickness of you seems to shock him.

“No underwear?” He nearly growls.

“It’s a matching thing,” you all but pant.

“It’s a naughty thing, Princess.” Jungkook responds, pressing his thumb directly into you. “How could I not tell before?”

You ignore his statement, aware that you’re unable to question anything he does right now. His thumb begins to move and you moan, burying your head in the crook of his neck to muffle the sound. Jungkook’s other hand weaves through your hair, pulling you back against the wall so the sounds you emit echo against the narrow alley walls.

“I want to hear you,” he commands.

“But the people,” you begin to protest, knowing that even you don’t care.

“They can’t hear or see us,” he responds, a grin carving a wicked look to his features. “Like I told you: magic.”

Without warning, Jungkook slides two fingers into you, dragging the longest and deepest sound from your throat. Your hips are trying to move, begging for more friction, but he won’t give it to you. He has his body flush against yours on the wall. In complete control. You fucking love it.

His hair curls with sweat, the strands sticking to his forehead. The moisture seems to make him sparkle and glow. Like an angel on Earth. Maybe a fallen angel. He curls his fingers and strokes you, your walls clenching around his fingers with delicious pleasure.

“Shit,” he curses, sliding his fingers out. “I need to be in you. Now.”

You whine in agreement, the intensity in his words making your toes curl. Jungkook reaches in between your bodies to undo his belt, long and nimble fingers making quick work on the clasp. You want him to do wicked and horrible things with those fingers, and that belt. You want him to tie you down and make you beg for every lick of pleasure he could give you. Wild desperation begins to build in you. You could cum just from watching him. Just from seeing that pink tongue of his lick across his lips.

“Jungkook,” you groan, watching him pull his cock out.

The rational part of your brain is aware that you are both in public, with hundreds of people walking by the alley every minute. The rational part of you is aware that you can get arrested for this. That this is dangerous and irresponsible on so many levels. But the louder and reckless part of you never wants this to end. The irrational part of your brain believes him, trusts him, and trusts his magic. No one has noticed yet. Maybe luck. Maybe magic. You don’t care.

And then he is poised at your entrance and pushing into you in one, long, thrust. Your moans are incessant, no breath between the sounds. You can feel him at the back of you, you can feel him everywhere, filling you up and intoxicating you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he is groaning, deep and dark and raw.

He moves again, in and out, following an untraceable rhythm that is setting you on fire. You have never felt this alive before, this electrified, everything is you is singing with approval and building with pleasure. You didn’t know sex before this, you didn’t know how good it could feel before this. How can you ever be with anyone besides him now?

He’s going to fuck you and leave you fucked for the rest of your life.

Jungkook claims you in a kiss, his tongue roaming your mouth. He swallows your moans and sounds with shivers. Your hands reach under his shirt and travel along the rigid muscle of his stomach and shoulders. His body seems to come alive beneath the touch, skin rippling and muscle contracting.

You can feel his large intake of breath along your lips. You don’t think you’ve heard him sigh until now, or breathe at all for that matter. It’s like he has never taken air into his lungs before you touched him. And now you can’t stop. Your fingers are everywhere as he continues to fuck you. Wild. This is wild.

“Don’t stop,” you beg, breaking the contact of the kiss for breath.

Jungkook’s eyes are touching you as they roam around your face, down your neck and collarbones, over your breasts and stomach, until they settle on the point where your bodies are joined. His skin is slick with sweat. His eyes are burning with passion. The muscles of his back and taut, signaling he feels as close as you do to release.

He reaches between you and begins to rub your clit in small circles. That’s it. You’re gone. You’ve sunk so deep, you know there’s no coming back. You splinter and break a part around him, milking his cock with tight spasms until you feel him cum, as well. You cum for what feels like forever, moaning and writhing and shaking at his touch.

Jungkook’s teeth are grazing at your throat and he bites gently. You think you’re going to cum again, moaning and arching up to give him more access. He’s still in you, despite the cum you feel dripping around him and coating your thighs. Jungkook’s lips curve up and he pushes his teeth deeper into the base of your throat. You feel a sharp sting and then warm, hot blood is dripping down your collarbones and between your breasts. Jungkook lets out a gasp as your blood fills his mouth, swallowing the thick liquid like he’s a man dying of thirst. His eyes are glowing, his skin is glowing, and you swear the tattoo on his arm stretches itself out, like it's waking up after a long sleep.

“You,” he says, capturing you in a long searing kiss. You can taste your own blood. You can taste your own desire, still throbbing deep and low after he’s satisfied you. “You are my princess.”

And then, just as quickly as you were there, you’re gone. Swallowed up by a black so endless and so deep you’re not sure you’ll ever resurface. Like realizing you’ve sunk too far in the deep end of the pool and wondering if you’ll make it out. Like falling asleep and hoping you don’t wake up. And consciously, dangerously, eerily, like the color of his eyes.

You’ve met Satan on the strip.

And your hour is now eternity.

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

~Admin Eggplant

1K notes · View notes

tastesoftamriel · 3 years ago

Note

How do you think things like theater and entertainment differs between the provinces/races of Tamriel? I imagine bawdy comedies are popular in Cyrodiil while Summerset prefer historical epics

I’ll be totally honest: I don’t have loads of time for entertainment, and when I’m catering for a banquet I’m too busy behind the scenes to be able to stop and enjoy shows! However, from what I have been able to gather, these are some of the weird and wonderful performances I’ve been lucky enough to watch across Tamriel.

Altmer

The very best entertainers from Summerset are from the House of Reveries, a time-honoured guild of mysterious masked performers who can do anything from acting to dance, music, and magic tricks. Every year, the House puts on a revue featuring the best of their talent, drawing crowds from near and far. I attended one of the revues as a guest a couple of years ago, and had an excellent time! From a historical opera about the Oblivion Crisis to fire-twirlers and a whole orchestra, the House of Reveries is without doubt the most prolific and capable of Tamriel’s entertainers. If you’re able to make it to their home in Summerset, catching any performance is definitely a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

Argonians

Argonians love music and dance, whether it’s at a tavern or a bonding ceremony! Most famous of their instruments is the vossa-satl, a keyboard instrument that’s powered by the croaks of frogs (really)! While it sounds absurd if you’ve never encountered one, there’s something beautiful about the tuned croaking that really evokes the ambiance of the deep swamps of Murkmire. Vossa-satls can be played on their own, accompanied with singing and drums, or even are even played on special occasions as quartets. An awful lot of fun to dance to as well!

Bosmer

The Bosmer are known for their entrancing shadow-puppet plays, which people come from far and wide to see. Narrated by a Tale-Spinner, these plays feature puppets made from stiff hide, whose shadows are projected against an opaque leather screen. It’s accompanied by music played on bone flutes and pipes, drums, and throat-singing that has an almost meditative quality. These puppet shows tell traditional stories Valenwood such as of Falinesti, Y’ffre, the Green Lady and Silvenar, and much more. I don’t really know what they’re on about most of the time due to the peculiar use of language and riddles used by Bosmer tale-spinners, but it’s an absolutely riveting way to spend your evening if you’re in Valenwood.

Bretons

Breton theatre is an interactive experience, so put on your dancing shoes and ready those rotten apples! Over-the-top musical comedies and dramas are a favourite of the Province, typically featuring anywhere from a handful to a couple dozen actors and a small band. The audience is encouraged to play along and it’s not uncommon to find yourself hoisted on stage to throw a pumpkin at the villain of the show! Comedic puppet shows like Punch-and-Julian are popular with young and old alike, and use cloth puppets or marionettes which are more detailed than Bosmeri shadow puppets. And of course, nobody loves The Lusty Argonian Maid’s adventures quite as much as the Bretons, so be sure to catch a performance (sometimes a themed costume party, for the saucier citizens) while you’re in High Rock!

Dunmer

Traditional Morrowind entertainment has a strong focus on magic, particularly illusion magic to scintillate the crowd (especially in areas where the Telvanni hold influence). The Dunmer are keen lovers of puppet shows, somewhat like Bosmer shadow puppets, but instead prefer the use of large, doll-like marionettes that are carved to look wonderfully realistic to show the characters and creatures of a bygone age. My favourite was an epic about St. Jiub and his quest to rid Morrowind of cliff racers, and it was accompanied by some frankly terrifying and realistic illusions of cliff racers which soared above the crowd and caused quite a panic! The Brave Little Scrib may thus be the safest bet for beginners to Dunmeri theatre, or those with a weak constitution.

Imperials

When it comes to entertainment, nobody in Tamriel puts on a show quite like the Imperials. The Arena is known for its bloody fights and betting, but has also been used for everything from huge circus performances and opera to the famous mock naval battles. The latter are a spectacular annual event where the arena floor is flooded and real ships are brought in to fight, complete with “pirates”, cannons, sword-fighting, and much more! Definitely not suitable entertainment for children, but if you love the ostentatious and over-the-top, be sure to visit the Imperial Arena (or any of the other smaller arenas that dot the Province) for some truly stunning shows.

Khajiit

In addition to their amazing skill at stringed instruments, the Khajiit are known for their dance and acrobatic skills. Traditional dancers in Elsweyr train for years at academies and temples alike, with a training regime that rivals their peers in the martial arts. This training also includes some jaw-dropping acrobatics and contortion, making Khajiiti circuses extremely popular as they travel around, usually as part of a Baandari troupe. Unlike the circuses staged in Cyrodiil, these troupes are usually made of a handful to a dozen performers, each with their own unique talents and abilities. A typical performance usually starts with dancers to warm up the crowd, followed by heart-stopping acts like trapeze, tightrope, and walking over hot coals! If you want to be wowed, be sure to grab a ticket the next time a Khajiiti circus troupe is in town; you won’t be disappointed!

Nords

You’re probably very aware of the famous Bard’s College of Solitude, one of the most prestigious institutions to study music in all of Tamriel. However, bards do far more than play the lute and sing songs. They are well-versed in recounting tales, especially historical ones (albeit with some embellishment). You’ll be on the edge of your seat listening to amazing original and time-honoured kennings and songs, preferably around the fire with a tankard of mead. While far less ostentatious than most other entertainment you’ll find in Tamriel, there’s nothing quite as cosy as a bardic evening at the tavern.

Orcs

The Orcs aren’t generally fans of theatre, but they sure do enjoy entertainment in the form of sports like Vosh ball and wrestling! Sporting events draw huge crowds of all races, meaning that you’ll find everything from hot snacks to live music in the arena. Vosh ball is a traditional Orcish sport which has been played for centuries, and is prone to getting violent, so grab a helmet (preferably one with a visor) before you sit down, and enjoy the show! Not feeling like watching? In certain cases, you can even give these sports a go in amateur rounds, but you will be asked to sign a disclaimer form…missing teeth, other injuries, and the occasional death aren’t uncommon. You’ve been warned!

Redguards

The Redguards are renowned for their poetry, song, and epic storytelling, often performed by wandering poet-explorers who live off the generosity of strangers. Unlike the traveling bards of Skyrim, you’ll usually need to visit these reclusive storytellers yourself, or host one when they’re in town! It’s well worth the trouble, as these wandering souls usually love performing with anyone else who’s game. One of my most memorable nights out was in Sentinel, where bored locals who came to listen to a visiting poet happened to bring all their talents with them. When the story about the Akaviri invasion ramped up, a few musicians struck up a tune, and for some reason a sword-swallower joined in! Entertainment in Hammerfell is a joyous community affair, and no two performances are ever alike.

#Asks #TES #The Elder Scrolls #World building #worldbuilding #Theatre #Entertainment #long post #text post #Lore #ESO

160 notes · View notes

arysthaeniru · 4 years ago

Note

aAAA the joy of seeing an update on your current favorite fanfic is just aAAA

I always felt that kiwami 1s Nishiki was just a bit too,, I dont know how to describe it; but essentially he just felt off, granted yakuza 1 is a product of its time and therefore the plot is a bit dated and whack as all hell

The way you write Nishiki just feels so much better and realistic; in the original he just seems so uncaring towards Kiryu? which just feels kinda OOC? You'd think he still cares about Kiryu despite it all, especially when you take Yakuza 0 into consideration; and i feel like you portray Nishiki much more accurately

I never thought much about Yumi, because honestly, in the original she was kinda just, there? You actually made her a very interesting person! like I'm actually invested in her in your story! (side note you ever think about her clone who got tortued and died? yeah who WAS that???? thats never brought up is it??)

Theres so much more to talk about but in short; This is the best fix it/rewrite of a game plot I have read to date and it brings me joy in my current stressful school life. and no I will not stop praising it or the author, because this work has made me very happy. ;)

I just have a gift for picking favorites that end up dying,,aand another favorite of mine is Mine

imo theres a lack of soft, reassuring Minedai, i just feel like he'd need a reminder that people love him as a person and not just for the money he can provide, even if its obvious

I'd love to see how you'd write them, but I understand if theres more interesting/appealing drabble requests!

- Carp

CARP, thank you for this <3 this is so sweet!!!!! I’m so happy you enjoy my Nishiki! I had fun playing with what Yakuza 0/the Kiwami additions gave us about Nishiki’s personality and outlook on the world, and trying to reconcile that with the plot that Yakuza 1 initially had. Ultimately, I fell on the side that you did: even if Nishiki’s ambition took him down a monstrous path, I don’t think he’s the sort of person who neglects to pay back his debts. And he’s aware of the huge debt he owes Kiryu. Not to mention, their bonds of trust and love vanishing completely because of jealousy felt unreal to me. Their relationship becoming twisted or strange? Yes, but vanishing entirely felt unsatsifying to me.

And Yumi!! I had so much fun excavating her character from the clues we get of her in canon. I worry sometimes, that she’s unrecognizable, because you know, I’ve given her a college education, and a whole bunch of interests beyond hostessing alone, but people seem to like it and like her, which is great!! I hate fridging women characters, so keeping her and Reina alive was important to me, hahaha. (RE: fake!Mizuki, there’s this substory in Kiwami that actually addresses who she was, BUT IT’S EVEN MORE HORRIFYING. So that’s why Yumi in my fic is the one captured and tortured by Nishiki’s men, because the thought of this poor innocent woman getting dragged into the mess was just untenable to me.)

Anyway, thank you for your support and kind words, and I hope you’ll continue to read and that my fic can continue to relieve stress. I--tried to write this about Mine, but Daigo kind of stole the spotlight a little??? I hope you still like it--if not, I will try a ficlet from Mine’s perspective too. I enjoy minedai a lot, but I haven’t had room to think out their dynamic yet, so this took me a while.

Daigo’s no stranger to being desired. He’s attractive, he knows this—his mother’s beauty lives in his veins, and he’s always had the money to look after himself. Fancy soaps to wash his face, the invisible retainers to keep his teeth straight, fancy suits and skin-tight shirts to show off his frame. For all that Kiryu insists his charisma is something that comes from the soul, Daigo knows it wouldn’t be able to draw the sort of attention he does without being attractive.

Which is to say that Daigo’s not especially thrown off by the intensity of Mine’s gaze. It’s happened before, and it’ll happen again. The thing that surprises him is how much he relishes in being seen by Mine.

Maybe it’s because Mine’s an island in a stormy sea, one of the only yakuza his age who’s sensible and level-headed enough to make it big. Maybe it’s because Mine’s gaze is always so reserved, polite, never overly lusty or overstaying its welcome, and Daigo has so rarely been desired so quietly. Or maybe it’s because Majima and Kashiwagi so clearly disapprove of him—Daigo’s always been something of a rebel, and he hasn’t shaken that off, even now he’s in his thirties and is the arbiter of rules for the Tojo Clan.

Daigo can’t quite put a pin on why he’s so comfortable with Mine’s yearning looks, but he’s never been one to hold back when he wants to indulge in something good. Not exactly a hedonist, not by yakuza standards, but Daigo has never kept himself from enjoying life, in the name of some dubious ‘honour.’

Which is why, in an after-hours meeting with Mine, as they eat cheap takeout sushi together, Daigo takes his chance. A momentary slip, the slightest hint of wasabi left at the corners of Mine’s lips and Daigo swoops in, rubs a thumb over the corner of Mine’s lips. Mine stutters to a stop, mid-sentence through a rundown of the real-estate that the Hakuho Clan’s been purchasing up, and stares at Daigo, eyes bewildered.

“Sixth Chairman?” he asks, his voice still remarkably composed.

“Wasabi.” Daigo says, nonchalantly, as if it’s nothing, and sticks his thumb into his mouth, slowly licking it off with a lingering lave of his tongue. He feels a sharp stab of satisfaction as Mine’s eyes turn darker, and his gaze follows Daigo’s hand down.

Daigo straightens up, languidly, and cracks his neck, casually. At this point in the day, he’s untucked his shirt, and he knows that a slight strip of his stomach will be visible when he stretches out his arms towards the ceiling. And as predictably as clockwork, Mine’s gaze darts downwards, to that pale expanse, to catch that brief second of skin. Daigo can’t help but feel warm. Something about being watched by Mine is exhilarating.

“Smoke?” offers Daigo, but as usual, Mine refuses, with a polite shake of his head.

Daigo knows from hearsay that Mine’s something a health-freak, so he’s not entirely surprised. It’s already too late for Daigo to preserve his health—he knows that his liver’s already been pretty ruined from long nights of binge-drinking as a youth, and this job’s too stressful to withhold from vices like smoking and drinking, without an optimal end-goal. So he walks over to the window, cracks it open a little, and lights up.

The breath of nicotine curls over his body, a tender caress, and Daigo feels his shoulders drop, as the relaxation hits. He pulls off his cufflinks, tosses them into his pockets and rolls up his sleeves. He takes it slow, runs his fingers over his skin a little more than strictly necessary. Surreptitiously checking the reflection in the window, Daigo watches Mine watch him, and smirks at how intense that gaze is, how Mine’s mouth has opened, and Daigo can just see the soft pink of his tongue.

“Dojima’s just fine, you know. When it’s just us two.” Daigo says, turning over his shoulder. He smiles, one of those charming smiles that had always gotten him whatever he wanted as a child, “We’re same-aged friends, after all.”

“Dojima-san.” Mine acknowledges, after a brief pause.

Daigo turns around, to properly look at Mine and lifts an eyebrow. “Dojima. Or Daigo, preferably. Dojima-san’s always my father in my head.”

Mine nods, face impassive. Daigo can’t read him like this. Maybe that’s why he likes when Mine stares at him, filled with longing. At least then, Daigo feels like he knows him. In moments like these, his implacable gazes might as well be a brick wall. “Right. Your Father was also in the Tojo Clan.”

Daigo smiles, wryly, and blows out a puff of smoke. “One of the most horrible men I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting—and I had to call him Father. But damn if he wasn’t good at the job.” He sighs and stubs the cigarette out against the ashtray. “...sometimes feel like I’m competing with his dead spirit. Everybody’s looking at me and wondering if this is what my Father would do. Or what Kiryu-san would do.”

“You’re doing better than any of them.” Mine says, immediately, with a vicious ferocity that Daigo wasn’t expecting. He can’t quite stop his eyebrows rising in surprise, and Mine straightens upwards, looking self-conscious immediately. Daigo regrets his instinctual reaction, immediately. “That is to say, Dojima, that I think that you’ve pulled this Clan into somewhere far more respectable. From what I’ve heard of your Father, he didn’t have the temperament to do proper business on this level—too insistent on formal obeisance and unable to be flexible as the times require. And Kiryu-san might be very honourable, but we are yakuza. There are certain things you have to do as a Chairman, that he couldn’t bring himself to do. But you are practical and do what is necessary, while also not overstepping into excessive violence. You are uniquely suited for this job, Dojima.”

...he’s taken aback a little, he can’t deny it. Daigo wonders if his cheeks are colouring, wonders if his obvious shock is offputting, wonders if this is how Mine feels every time Daigo teases him lightly about his obvious attraction. A startling warmth spreads through his chest, and Daigo can’t stop the slight smile that touches his face. Has anybody ever said something so unreservedly kind and measured about Daigo before?

Maybe this is the difference between everybody else’s gazes on him, and Mine’s gaze. It’s based on something more than desire alone. Respect.

Daigo runs a hand over his slicked-back hair and ruffles it free, with a rueful smile, a smile that he couldn’t take away from his face, even if he tried. “I appreciate that. You know I couldn’t do it without you, right?”

He’d never really believed himself capable of attraction to a man like Mine. All of his previous childhood crushes had been on bright, cheerful conversational, pure-hearted people. Daigo had always figured they would balance out his sardonic cynicism. He’d never thought someone as reserved and principled as Mine would ever make his heart flutter. But then, there was something about that deep hunger and passion that Daigo craved. Perhaps it was because he was no longer the gloomy punk of his youth. Maybe his tastes have changed towards tall, dark and handsome. Maybe Mine’s just that special.

“Dojima—” Mine says, clearly trying to refute it, but Daigo cuts him off.

“I mean it. Everybody in this fucking Clan wants me to do something or be somebody else. Kashiwagi-san wants me to be my mother. Majima-san wants me to be Kiryu-san. Everybody else expects my Father. But not you. You deal with me honestly, and with candour, and never hold any expectations against me except success. I appreciate your faith in me.” Daigo takes a couple of steps forward, until his shoes almost brush up against Mine’s own. He leans down over Mine’s chair. “I could not do this without your backing and help. Truly. I don’t think I’ve ever had someone like you in my life. A true friend.”

Mine tilts his chin up to meet Daigo’s gaze, a hungry devotion in his eyes, and Daigo, for a moment, wonders if this is wrong. If he should hold back, like Kiryu would. But Daigo is Daigo, and Mine clearly wants him anyway, so he leans down and kisses him.

Mine’s mouth is velvety smooth and wet and hot and it is oh-so satisfying a feeling to put his hand against Mine’s broad neck and feel his warmth up against Daigo. He pulls back, with a satisfied sigh, and feels the burn of wasabi across his lips, a final parting kick.

#minedai #mine yoshitaka #dojima daigo #spiraling downhill fic tag #yakuza #rgg

43 notes · View notes

dribbonart · 4 years ago

Text

Steven Universe Rewatch: Alone At Sea

Lapis’ first episode post-redemption! (Not that Lapis did anything wrong.)

I guess this episode makes more sense to people that have been through a toxic relationship. It’s clearly a metaphor for that sort of thing, even using relationship language where it doesn't really make sense in the non-metaphorical context.

“Healthy” and “unhealthy” make sense when applied to relationships, I don’t know how you could reasonably apply it to being a monster trapped on the bottom of the ocean. Of course it wasn’t healthy. It’s not even on the spectrum.

This is very sweet. I love when a show celebrates a relationship, and this episode has a strong theme of Greg and Steven’s camaraderie.

There’s also a plot about Lapis thinking she’s a bad person because of what’s happened to her. I guess it’s realistic, but it’s not much fun.

Even when Greg has endless money, he still half-asses things.

I like when aliens get to be aliens. Of course they wouldn’t know handshakes. If you think the difference in hand sizes is dramatic here, just wait.

I kind of love Greg’s look here?

I didn’t know Steven was allowed to make a cat face.

Just a moment of pure, unalloyed happiness.

So this is another metaphor about bad relationships. Why would anyone ever be in a bad relationship? They get something out of it.

It’s weird they talk specifically about baiting the hook but the hook is repeatedly shown without any bait.

This depiction of fishing is very accurate.

Even if Greg was absolutely sure that he was never going to fish again, it would have been a better use of his time to just buy a pole.

Again, I just don’t empathize with this at all. I don’t think it’s wrong, it just doesn’t work for me.

I get that Lapis is feeling guilty and is grasping at straws to justify that guilt, but it would have been nice if she had actually done something wrong. Real people do bad things, not just things that appear bad when removed from context.

“I heard you guys were talking about me?”

They never establish how Jasper finds them, or how she gets to the boat in time. If Jasper can track Lapis and travel fast enough to get to the boat, she surely would have found Lapis at the barn. (Maybe she was just lurking in the bushes, nervously waiting for a chance to say hello.)

Again, this would work much better if Lapis had done some big, wrong thing, or if her gem-type was established as being unusually dangerous, or something.

Jasper’s design is really cool. Steven Universe is just about the only show willing to explore large body types for women. (I have a particular grudge against Overwatch for their terrible track record for women’s bodies.)

This is a cool twist, and a cool image. This enormous frame and domineering personality kneeling to Lapis’ tiny body and terrified emotions.

Now That’s a hand size difference.

This is the first time the show establishes that Lapis was doing something other than what was necessary to keep Jasper imprisoned. I guess it wouldn’t have been very realistic to have her brag about something like that.

Making the relationship metaphor very literal and cliché.

I don’t like the way they draw Jasper’s teeth in this episode. They’re very... defined.

“I guess I’ll just fuck off and come back later?”

Jasper gets dealt a bad hand in this show. Not that she’s a misunderstood hero. Her character never gets explored for its own sake. She’s almost exclusively used as a way to explore unhealthy perceptions of relationships through fusion. The stuff that we know about her personality is mostly what Rebecca Sugar has said, not stuff that we see in the show.

Before the boat was broken, Lapis could have brought them back by manipulating water.

“I guess we’re happy now.”

Reviewing this episode, it looks like I love Lapis or something. I don’t particularly like her character at all. She’s... fine. This episode is fine. I guess there’s a useful moral in there, I’m just not interested in it.

The boat broke, was that just a coincidence?

I don’t think Jasper punched her way through the hull of the ship, broke some engine parts, then jumped back down to the bottom of the ocean just to climb up the anchor chain. This entire episode feels like it needs another pass.

#Steven Universe #Rewatch #SU Rewatch

17 notes · View notes

joeyglowy · 5 years ago

Note

Can i request a scenario where Atsumu’s girlfriend feels lonely because he barely had time for her so he dedicates his weekend to her

No worries! Realistically, as much as I’d like Atsumu to dedicate an entire weekend, he’d still give a good portion of it to volleyball cause that’s just how he is. In any case, I still hope you enjoy the scenario I did, that explored the ‘lonely’ part and ‘spending time together’ part in equal portions.

Miya Atsumu x Fem! Reader

WHAT I’M HERE FOR.

Although dating Atsumu was certainly a thrilling endeavour, it also happened to be a rather lonely one.

Miya Atsumu was something akin to the illustrious ‘Forbidden Fruit.’

He was a scorching red that disrupted the serenity and tranquillity of the garden. He was a pulsating, bleeding crimson heart that tantalised you from afar. He was alluring and he knew it. He burned everyone that he touched and yet he’d draw them in all the same. He was searing, he was like scalding water. If you got too close, not only would he evade you but he’d manage to singe you in the process.

Being with him was like a lucid dream.

He was elusive, too elusive.

A relationship with him was not quite the romantic comedy you had asked for. Being second to volleyball is something that was both bitter on the tongue yet mesmerising on the eyes. Atsumu’s passion, however scorching, never failed to ignite something that was reminiscent to childish glee inside of you. He brought it out of everyone. From his opponents, his teammates, the crowd, it didn’t matter, but Atsumu was what they meant when they say:

You can’t look away.

Finishing your club activities, you looked longingly at the gym and sighed as you offered a small smile to your friends who were waiting up ahead. Inarizaki was a prestigious school, one that took great pride in their sporting, particularly well known for their volleyball team. As such, their practice always extended until the skies were coloured with purple sunsets and stars.

[5:32 PM]

hey~ you free to hang out this weekend tsumu? theres a festival nearby which might be fun to go to!

[5:40 PM]

sorry babe

captains makin all the practices longer cause of nationals

- 3 -

dunno if ill be able to

[5:42 PM]

all g! you better do well then, if you get knocked out of the first round of nationals I’ll kill you

[5:45 PM]

come on babe, its me we’re talkin bout here~

;))))

breaks bout to end so ill text ya later

thnx for bein chill babe~

You couldn’t help but sigh as you let your phone fall from your vision to your side before roughly shoving it into the depths of your pockets. Your group of friends eyed you warily.

“[Name]-chan, if he never spends that much time with you, is there really a point being with him?”

It was a question your friends often asked. Never out of malice, but always out of genuine curiosity and concern whenever they see you look at your phone solemnly. Unfortunately, you’ve asked yourself that question a few times too.

It was almost unbearable, like being put on a diet. He was the taste of all chocolates, candies and lollipops that you’d snack on but was always hidden away, as if his enjoyment was a ‘one time’ thing per week. You hated the fact that it felt like your relationship was just like those candies, stowed away on the top shelf, only to come whenever he felt like it. He was tumultuous and exciting but he left you feeling cold for he always went away too soon.

It’s not as if you didn’t get it. He loved volleyball, it was his passion, it was his world and that was completely okay. You knew all that and yet… it always felt as if you clung onto the relationship a bit tighter than he did.

Even so, you had always answered that question with a shaky, but determined ‘yes.’

“I don’t really know. Nationals are coming up though so it’s natural that he’d be extra busy, he’s practicing hard so, I really can’t blame him for that, you know?”

Now, you weren’t so sure.

You smiled through the cracks on your teeth as you all continued on your way.

~*~

“Ouch.”

“ACK–!”

Atsumu choked out a strangled scream as his bottle flew out of his hands before he eventually caught it in a hurried motion saving it from plummeting to the ground, turning to give his most withering glare he could muster to the source of his near death experience before deadpanning to find an identical deadpan boring into him. Osamu, being completely immune to Atsumu’s glares only shrugged nonchalantly as he made a gesture to fill his own bottle by the taps before glancing casually up at his fuming brother.

“That sure doesn’t sound too good ta me ‘Tsumu.”

Atsumu had gone to fill his bottle at the drink taps just outside the gym but he had stumbled on the conversation you had been having with your friends by accident. Osamu had apparently followed and thought it was necessary to almost completely blow his cover by nearly shocking him into a seizure. Atsumu’s scowl deepened in spite of the guilt and concern gnawing his mind as he harrumphed angrily.

“It’s none of ya damn business ‘Samu!” he retorted stubbornly, looking away so that his brother couldn’t see the distress on his face.

Osamu snorted. Even if he couldn’t see his brother’s face, he (unfortunately) had sixteen years of experience to document Atsumu’s irrational behaviours and idiosyncrasies tucked away in a rather large folder in his mind. Osamu’s not too happy about that folder occupying as large of a space as it did but he definitely didn’t want to see it get bigger by adding a ‘heartbroken ‘tsumu’ subheading.

“If I were you bro, I’d do something about it. Last thing I want is ta deal with yer crying ass and ya eating my pudding to ease ya through the inevitable break up.”

Atsumu stilled at that word: ‘breakup.’

He didn’t think that you guys were broken, nor did it feel as if you guys were losing your feelings. Atsumu was a man of the highest calibre. He never half-assed anything and he held the same standard for everyone he was acquainted with. It was often the decider if people hated or liked him.

For you, it was a decider that you loved him. He was sure of it.

Atsumu furrowed his brows in determination. He was a man that pushed things to the limits and he most certainly did not settle for mediocrity. Whatever it is, he was going to make sure you’d both get through it.

“Fuck you ‘Samu, ya can keep yer damn pudding, just watch, I’ll—‘SAMU!”

As per usual, Osamu had left Atsumu in the middle of his epiphany. Seriously, who does that bastard think he is!?

~*~

Since you had nothing better to do, you decided to get a start on studying on the Saturday, not that you were too happy about having to spend another weekend alone.

Your solitude, however, was sourly interrupted by rapid banging on your door. Aggravated to have your rare ounce of motivation disrupted, you flung open the door with a bit more force than necessary only to be met with your boyfriend, still sweaty from practice.

“[Name]-chan!? What’re ya doing, hurry up and get ready, we have a festival to catch don’t we?” Atsumu gasped out, perhaps on a small adrenaline high after practice. You were a little taken back by his enthusiasm before you narrowed your eyes.

“I thought you couldn’t make it? You can’t just come here expecting me to hang out with you just because you’re suddenly up for it ‘Tsumu,” you say slowly, wincing to hear your words come out a little more scathing than what you’re used to. It’s not as if you had anything planned for the day but you couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed that he’d act as if he could do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted.

Atsumu’s eyes flashed momentarily with guilt and he chewed the inside of his cheek before he ducked his head, looking up at you with his burning caramel eyes. “I know but, couldya give me a chance to make it up ta ya? Please [Name]-chan~” he whined pathetically, dramatically clapping his hands in front of his face as he screwed his eyes shut, pouting. You sighed, not finding the heart to ever deny him, you swore you would one day build up immunity to his puppy pouts.

“Fine, fine, just let me get dressed properly.”

His eyes suddenly snapped open, lighting up with a friendly suggestion on the tip of his tongue—

“Alone asshole.”

He grimaced to have the door slammed in his face… yeah, he probably deserved that.

~*~

“Oh my god, ‘Tsumu, you have to get me that jumbo fox plushy!”

Atsumu couldn’t hide his grin for a moment to see the way your eyes lit up at all the decorations than hung overhead on wires or ornaments on stalls as you cooed and awed at all the different ones. He realised it had been way too long since he got to see you get so excited like this, to see your eyes shimmer like diamonds and your smile crystallise like stalactites. Even if there were lights illuminating the area, he was certain that you had to be the one powering all of them.

“Eh~? Aren’tcha a little too old for plushies?” he teased gently, murmuring in a soft voice that was reserved just for your ears.

You waved him off dismissively, your eyes drawn to the golden fox that reminded you a little too much of your own cunning boyfriend. “Nonsense, you can never be too old for cute things. Besides, you’re a brat and yet I’m still dating you, aren’t I?”

Atsumu’s frowned, adamantly squawking, “I am not a brat you–” he broke himself off for a moment before his lips curled into a sleazy Cheshire grin. “Oh? So you think I’m cute, do you?”

You deadpanned, unamused. “Well you’re not good for much else other than volleyball or being an asshole, are you?”

Atsumu winced, huffing as he crossed his arms over his chest childishly, resisting the urge to further prove your point by puffing out his cheeks. “Mean! Yer so mean [Name]-chan! I finally take you out and this is the thanks I get!? Why am I even dating ya anyway!?”

The words had tactlessly slipped out in a fit of momentum and for a moment, he stiffened, like he wanted to take it back upon realising that the reason why he had done this is because your very relationship was on the brink. He suddenly stumbled over his words, getting flustered as he tried to find the best way to reword it. You blinked curiously, mulling over what could have spurred such a reaction. Briefly, you wondered if he had heard you when you were with your friends… that he had somehow known of your doubts.

“I mean, course I know why I like ya! Yer–!”

You patiently listened to Atsumu as he listed all the little things you do, all the little trivial stuff that you never even noticed about yourself to you. In less than eloquent words, he admired how assertive you were with him, how you always spoke your mind and lately you hadn’t been doing that. He was clearly growing more and more embarrassed at the sheer honesty of it all and with each stumble he made that fractured his swollen pride, it was like he put a Band-Aid on the doubts in your mind.

You suddenly brought his neck down and he lurched before his forehead was pressed to yours as you kissed the corner of his mouth, immediately putting a halt to his rather humiliating spiel of emotions.

“You’re really not good at this whole, emotional honesty thing, are you? No wonder I had to confess first.” You snickered to yourself and Atsumu cringed in chagrin, ready to rebut as his cheeks flared red before you smiled adoringly at him. “Thank you for that and for today ‘Tsumu. I’m sorry that you somehow had to figure out I was having doubts rather than me just being up front about it. But, I love you ‘Tsumu, I really do.”

You grinned, your nose brushing against his as the two of you stood in the middle of the path. People were probably staring at you but neither of you particularly cared as you beamed at him, watching his ears turn a shade darker.

“This, you, are exactly what I signed up for when I asked you out. I love your passion for volleyball, I find it hilarious that you can be an absolute dick to everyone but you can’t even properly admit to yourself when you’re genuinely moved. You’re a bit of an idiot and all asshole, but that’s exactly what I’m here for. But, please don’t think I’m being unreasonable when I say I want to see you more. I mean, that’s what relationships are for, to get laid and feel the good stuff you know.”

Atsumu had been stunned into silence, the way his scrutinising eyes laid you bare made you flush but you held your ground confidently. “Heh,” he let out, albeit breathless and trying to cover up his own mortification as he narrowed his eyes playfully. “I thought ‘getting laid’ and ‘feeling the good stuff’ were the same thing.” He laughed when you playfully smacked his chest and although the grin he sported was of the devilish variety, the warmth he held in his smouldering golden eyes was more than enough to express how touched he really was.

“Well,” he growled under his breath as his lips hovered above your ear, drawing you in close by slithering his arms around your waist. “I’d be more than happy ta listen ta any request ya have if ya put it like that.”

He suddenly felt the warmth by his neck stolen away as you slipped out of his hold by bobbing down, his teeth clamping on thin air as he whined to see you duck away from his hold with a sneaky grin.

“You still owe me dunderhead. I want that fox.”

“But ya already got a fox right ‘ere!”

“Hmm, I think I’ve forgotten what makes you the number one setter in the high school prefectures, I think I need a reminder~”

“NOW YER ASKIN’ FOR IT–!”

Even if the two of you were a little embarrassed to openly discuss your feelings all the time, which, more often than not, was disguised under bouts of bickering and teasing, if there’s one thing the two of you knew very well:

You both knew exactly what you were here for…

To get laid and feel the good stuff obviously.

(And to be with each other you supposed)

#miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #miya twins #miya osamu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu atsumu #haikyuu #request #i wrote too much for this asshole #jokes too much is never enough for the miya twins

122 notes · View notes

pixiegrl · 4 years ago

Text

The Monster Mash, It Was a Graveyard Smash

This was a Halloween fic for the 5SOS Halloween Fic Event organized by @ashesonthefloor! Thank you for doing this! I had alot of fun writing this fic. Shout out to Liz for editing! And Mel for being my hype woman and letting me bounce ideas off you!

The prompt was: "That's not a Halloween costume? You actually look like that??" (could be fangs, horns, wings, literally whatever supernatural element you want) Or one person has supernatural aspects and spends Halloween night with the other person. The other doesn't realize it's not a costume until they're gold/the next day/whatever you decide to do"

It’s also on ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27262129/

Luke is regretting his decision to tell Michael that he would get the decorations for their apartment. He only agreed because Michael loves Halloween, but he cannot be trusted to do the shopping. He’ll buy everything in the store and then will they not only have money, Luke will have to spend the whole month being terrified of his apartment and what might pop out at him. Michael is endlessly fascinated by Halloween, a holiday fairies don’t celebrate. It’s a human-made holiday, and before they left Australia and their little home clan of magic to move to New York, they’d never encountered anything like it. Even though they’ve been here for roughly five years now and have come to understand most of the other holidays people celebrate, Michael loves Halloween the most. It’s the one thing he insists on celebrating, despite Luke’s protests against it. Luke likes fall, but he doesn’t like being scared, which seems to be Michael’s favorite part. He’s been banned from decoration shopping since the time he hung a skeleton from the ceiling that caused Luke to scream and cry upon entering the apartment.

Luke doesn’t get Halloween. It’s such a human holiday and, despite how much he likes dressing up and eating candy, he doesn’t understand Michael's fascination with it. He finds the whole thing to be too scary and overdone for his liking.

Usually, they have enough Halloween decorations for the apartment but, in a fit of rage last year, Luke threw some of them out after Michael had left a fake spider in his bed. Which is probably one of the reasons that Michael forced Luke to go this year. It’s his least favorite thing, having to go to the store and go through the aisles to find something that Michael likes. Luke doesn’t like anything terrifying, which is unfortunately all Michael ever wants. Luke has already had to avoid the fake snakes and serial killer franchise masks just to get to the decorations.

He’s been standing in the decorations aisle for twenty minutes now, trying to decide between the scary decorations (some kind of bloody werewolf head, which Luke thinks might be inaccurate) and the cute ones (a small, smiling purple bat). He’s also partial to the black rose wreath hanging up, but he’s worried Michael will say it’s too “soft” for the scary punk vibes he prefers. He also knows Michael desperately wants to impress his new boyfriend, Calum, with their decorations.

Luke is finally steeling himself to take the werewolf's head and be done with it when he hears a groan next to him.

“You’re not really going to take that, are you?” The voice says. There’s an Australian accent there, which surprises Luke so far away from home. So far in New York, it feels like it’s just him and Michael and now Michael’s boyfriend Calum, who are from his home country. He turns, wondering what kind of stranger just decides to address someone in the store and is surprised by the person staring back at him. It’s a rather attractive guy, all brown curls with brown eyes and dimples in his cheeks showing as he’s smiling at Luke. Luke blushes, glancing away from him and back to the head.

“My roommate likes scary decorations and stuff.”

“Well, it’s a horrible stereotype. How would you like it if someone hung your face up on a wall, full of teeth and blood?”

Luke wrinkles his nose. He’s never met a werewolf, but he can’t imagine it would be fun to have people think that. It’s already not fun when he and Michael meet people who automatically assume that fairies are out to trick people and con them. Luke only did that once and it was to pass a class.

“I guess. But they are hunters.”

“Please, they’d be much more civilized than that. You don’t go around eating your meat raw and bloody do you? Besides, who even hunts to eat anymore?”

“Well, what about full moons then? What about a transformation?”

“You mean why do werewolves have to hunt and kill? Maybe they just like playing with their friends and rough housing. They certainly don’t look like that,” the guy says, jerking his thumb towards the head.

“Well, I have to go home with something. What do you propose if you’re so against the werewolf head?” Luke asks. The guy lights up immediately, full of enthusiasm. If he was a dog, his tail would be wagging.

“You seem like someone who would like something elegant. What about this?” He says, pulling the wreath off the rack and handing it to Luke. In this light, up close, Luke can see that there’s glitter on the edges, letting the roses sparkle in the light. Luke runs his finger over the edge, wondering if he can spell it so that the roses will be more realistic and alive, while still being wholly fake and preserved. He’s surprised this stranger was able to figure out so quickly what Luke likes, but it could be the floral shirt that he’s wearing, too.

Luke glances up, smiling gently to show his approval. The guy grins even wider, dimples deepening.

“What else do you suggest?” Luke asks. The guy immediately starts to pull things from the shelves, babbling at Luke about how nice the various things are, small smiling bats and little arched black cats. He goes around pulling out the most objectively least scary things that somehow manage to be adorable. Luke is a little in love with this man, who’s dumping a fake candelabra into his basket, telling him that the black and gold looks elegant, but spooky.

They stop in front of the fake animal skeletons. Luke is a little put off by the incorrect spiders and snakes. They’re not supposed to look like that at all, beady eyes staring at him. The cat draws his attention though, arched back and skeletal smile on its jaw. It looks...fun. Wholesome. Luke reaches out and pets along the back, charmed by how incorrect it truly is, little ears and all.

“You should get it,” The guy says. Luke looks over at him, startled by how fond his face is staring back at Luke. Luke blushes, embarrassed that this guy saw him petting a skeleton cat. The guy doesn’t seem to care, simply picking the cat up and holding it out to him.

“It’s silly.”

“Nothing’s silly if it makes you smile,” he says, holding the cat out further towards him. Luke takes her, staring down into the cat’s little face. It smiles back at him.

“What should I name her? Names are important you know,” Luke says solemnly. It’s a fairy tradition, after all.

The guy furrows his brow, biting his lip a little. “Name her Petunia. A nice name for a nice cat.”

Luke smiles, nodding. “Petunia. I like it.”

The guy grins back at him, “Anytime. Always glad to help a cute stranger on their quest for Halloween.”

He walks away, throwing Luke a wave and a wink. Luke blushes, staring down at Petunia. Naturally she offers him no advice in the matter.

It isn’t until Luke gets home and has faced the ire of Michael because of the lack of scary Halloween decorations that he realizes he should have asked the cute guy for his name and number. Now, he’s never going to see him again. It’s the real travesty of the night, leaving Luke sad, followed around by a little storm cloud as he wallows in his unhappiness.

***

Luke can’t believe he’s waited this long to buy candy. Usually they’re on top of it, big bags of assorted candy bought at the start of the season, ready to give out to the kids in their apartment building and for Luke and Michael to binge eat while watching movies. However, this is the first year they’ve thrown a Halloween party and they’ve mis-estimated the amount of candy needed. They still have a few weeks left, but they’ve realized that the usual two bags won’t cut it if they’re having people over and want to put it out for the party.

Michael is busy with work all day, but still insisted that if they want to get any of the good stuff, it has to be done today. So now Luke is standing in yet another aisle of a department store, trying to figure out what on Earth Michael means by “the good stuff.”

Luke knows that he likes Reese’s and that Michael is partial to anything with mint in it, but Luke’s not sure what else to get. Chocolate and candy isn’t really a thing for fairies growing up. It wasn’t until Luke and Michael moved to New York that they’ve even come into contact with the stuff and he’s still learning what it is that people like. He’s got a bag of assorted chocolates, a couple packs of mint chocolate Kit Kat’s for Michael, and a bag of mini Reese’s for himself, but he feels like he’s missing something.

“You can’t only be buying chocolate,” A voice says next to Luke. Luke startles at the familiar accent, turning to see that it’s the same guy from the decorations. Luke is dumbstruck by the coincidence of the whole thing. Here he was, sure he’d never see the man again and now here he is, standing in the candy aisle of a Walgreens and telling him that he’s making the wrong candy choices.

“It’s you,” Luke says, at a loss for what else to say. The guy grins, all sparkling eyes and dimples. He looks like a Disney prince.

“I’d ask if you’re stalking me, but I don’t know if you’d be doing that in a drug store at 3pm on a Monday. How’d your roommate like the decorations?”

“Mad that they weren’t scary. Said I ruined the holiday until his boyfriend came over and said he preferred our decorations to the other things he’s seen for the season. Now Michael can’t get enough of them. Although he keeps trying to change Petunia’s name.”

“Well he’s not allowed to. That’s her name and it’s the only one she’ll answer to,” the guy says, serious expression on his face broken by the wink he sends Luke. Luke blushes, turning back to the candy.

“First you judge my decoration choices, now you’re judging my choice in candy. What will you judge next?” Luke teases.

“Well, you pick scary decorations and now chocolate. I’m starting to think you have a vendetta against werewolves.”

Luke scoffs, trying to put on an air of disbelief. “Come on, you don’t really think werewolves are real.”

“It is Halloween season. Anything is possible.” He grins. Luke notices his teeth look a little sharper than most people’s, but doesn’t think anything of it.

“What else am I supposed to buy if not for chocolate? It’s a staple of the season.”

The guy furrows his brow, turning to look at the shelves of candy. He snaps his fingers and leans down, grabbing a bag of what looks like sour gummies. He tosses the bag into Luke’s basket.

“Oh, so werewolves don’t like chocolate, but they like candy that hurts to eat.”

“If werewolves are part dog, they’d have chocolate allergies. Sour candy is safe and allergy free. Besides, maybe they like a little kick with their sweet,” The guy says, winking.

Is this guy flirting with him? Luke can’t possibly be that lucky.

“Well, I wouldn’t know anything about that. I tend to prefer saltiness with my chocolate,” Luke says. The guy grins even wider and Luke blushes, realizing it sounds a bit like a come on.

“Guess you’ll just have to try it and see.”

Luke turns away, grabbing another bag of sour gummies and putting it in with the others. Luke turns to the guy, ready to ask him for his name and number, when his phone goes off. He shoots Luke an apologetic look and pulls it out of his pocket, eyes going wide when he sees the name of whoever it is.

“Sorry, I have to take this. Good luck with Halloween.” And with that he rushes out of the store, partially running to get outside.

Dejected, Luke buys his candy and heads back to the apartment. He dumps it onto the counter, ripping open one of the bags of sour gummies to give it a try. They’re not bad, the little bit of kick at the edge of sweetness is enough to override the loss of feeling Luke’s having in his mouth after the first bag.

Michael comes home an hour later, finding Luke moping on the couch with his candy. When asked, all Luke can say is that the universe is out to stop him from getting a boyfriend. Michael wants to know what sour gummies, something neither of them has had before, has to do with any of that.

***

Luke isn’t sure how he ended up here in the Halloween store, but it seems to be where he is. A combination of needing to get away from Michael and Calum’s making out and general boredom has led him here. It’s the last week before Halloween and he’s rummaging through the remains of what’s left for costumes, combing through glittery fairy wings and bad makeup. It’s really his fault for waiting so long to find a costume for the party, but it’s not like Luke actually needs a costume at all. He is a fairy and so, understandably, he already has fairy wings to wear. He has slightly pointed ears and golden eyes and there’s glitter that goes with him everywhere. It doesn’t mean it’s not still fun to go to the stores, watch the teen girls try to look like mermaids and little kids dress up in superhero costumes. Luke just usually tries to go earlier than this because now all that’s left are the rejected costumes and the college students trying to make a mad dash to make something out of whatever is left.

Luke shifts through the fairy costumes so he can send pictures to Michael of what people seem to think fairies look like when someone bumps into him. He startles, turning around.

The person who’s bumped into him looks to be a guy about his age, with windswept brown hair and large brown eyes. He throws his hands up in mock surrender when he sees Luke looking at him. It reminds Luke vaguely of a puppy who knows they’ve done something wrong and is trying to look innocent. He looks familiar, but Luke’s not sure why.

“Oh, I’m sorry about that. Should really be more careful about where I’m going,” The guy says. Luke perks up at the hint of Australian accent. It can’t be that same guy Luke’s been running into all over town. First with the decorations and then the candy. Is it too much to hope that Luke would meet the cute guy here? What are the odds he’d also be looking for a costume last minute? Maybe the universe doesn’t hate him after all.

“It’s you! My werewolf decoration and no chocolate guy!” Luke says, grinning when the guy breaks into a full smile.

“I knew you looked familiar! Could never forget a pretty face like that. It seems that fate has brought us together in this horribly placed Halloween store. Ashton,” The guy says, sticking his hand out. Luke takes it gently, letting the guy shake it with far too much enthusiasm for someone he’s only met a handful of times. He really does remind Luke of an overeager puppy. Luke might already have a crush on him, with how cute and happy he is.

“Luke. Feels nice to finally be on a first name basis with the man my roommate has a grudge against now.”

Ashton laughs, a short bark of a thing. “So, what brings you to a costume store so late in the season? You seem too put together to have waited until the last minute, considering how detailed you were about the decorations and the candy.”

Luke blushes. “Oh, I have my costume. I just like to come to the stores and look around. There’s something funny about going to a Halloween store so late and seeing the chaos of it all. Besides, it can never hurt to have too many accessories for a look. Who would wait this long anyway?”

Ashton laughs, “Well, then it seems I’m the chaos you’re looking for. I managed to wait for the last minute for a costume and now I’m rushing to find one for a last minute party. Maybe you could help me?”

Luke’s a little surprised. It’s rather bold of Ashton to ask a stranger to accompany him while looking for costumes. Not that Luke’s going to turn down what feels like a date with a cute guy. He hasn’t gone on a date with a cute guy in ages. Maybe he can manage to convince Ashton to hold his hand.

“We can certainly try. What are you looking for?”

��I’m not sure yet. Usually I like to take a look around and see what’s left. Sometimes it’s fun, trying to make a costume out of the things people don’t want.”

Luke is horrified. “How can you not plan for something like that? Costumes take detail and work. Why would you leave it all up to chance?”

“Maybe you need to learn to live a little, Luke.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew what my costume is.”

Ashton looks him up and down and it feels a little like being checked out. He preens a little under Ashton’s gaze. Ashton looks up, blushing slightly when he meets Luke’s eyes.

“Let me guess. You’ll be a princess. Or a mermaid. Since you are Australian and all.”

Luke shakes his head, “Close, but not quite.”

Ashton glances over at the fairy wings Luke's been looking at. “Oh! A fairy. How charming. It fits you.”

“Are you going to be a prince? You’d make a nice companion for Cinderella.”

Ashton laughs, “Can’t say that princesses are my thing, really. Besides, princes are boring and stuffy. It lacks imagination and adventure.”

Luke looks around, “Unless you wanna be a prince or a superhero, it looks like you’re out of luck shopping at this place. They’re almost out of everything since, you know, it’s the week before Halloween.”

“I know a better costume store a bit outside of the city. Why don’t we set up a day and go shopping together? Since you seem to have a lot of opinions about my outfit, it seems fitting you should help me look,” Ashton says, holding his hand out, raising his eyebrows expectantly. There’s a pause as Luke realizes that Ashton is asking Luke for his phone. For his number.

Luke can do little else but take out his phone, unlock it, and hand it over to Ashton. He messes around with it for a few moments, inputting his number and sending a text to himself. He hands the phone back to Luke smiling.

“There. Now you have my number. Text me when you’re free and we’ll set something up,” Ashton says, winking at Luke as he turns on his heel. Dumbstruck, Luke looks down at his phone, laughing when he realizes that Ashton put a little wolf emoji next to his name. He’s really committed himself to this joke it seems. Luke is too on Cloud Nine to think about it any further, going home to proclaim to Michael that he’s finally met the love of his life and that they’re going on a date.

***

Luke has been anxious waiting for his “date” with Ashton. He refuses to call it a date, doesn’t want to get his hopes up, even though Michael has been calling it one for the last week. He’s been talking to Ashton almost nonstop since getting his number. It’s been fun, sending Ashton his daily thoughts and happenings of the day. He’d sent Ashton a picture of chocolate the other day and had gotten a little frowny face emoji in response. It’s terribly endearing of Ashton and Luke thinks it’s funny that he’s so committed to some goofy werewolf joke for the season.

They’d agreed to meet on the 30th, later in the afternoon after work, which seemed like a dumb idea to Luke, even if Ashton insists that it’s more fun going through Halloween stores to try and make a costume out of what’s leftover. Especially because Ashton insists that the store he knows outside of the city has better things. Luke has been standing outside of the subway entrance for the last fifteen minutes and he’s starting to get nervous that Ashton isn’t coming. Luke’s just about steeled himself to give up and go home when Ashton comes sprinting down the block, stopping directly in front of Luke. He bends in half, hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath.

“Sorry. I got a little hung up this morning and lost track of time,” Ashton says, still trying to take a deep breath. He looks disheveled and winded, curls tangled around his face and brown eyes wide as he looks up at Luke. He looks like he’s doing his best imitation of a puppy who knows they shouldn’t have wrecked something and now they’re hoping to fix it by being cute. Luke would like to pretend it won’t work on him, but who is he kidding.

“It’s fine. I was just worried you forgot,” Luke says, trying to keep his tone light and not betray his worry.

“How could I forget a date with the cutest guy to look at costumes?” Ashton asks, an earnest expression on his face.

Luke blushes, glancing away from Ashton. He doesn’t want to admit how much of an effect Ashton has on him. He hasn’t known Ashton long enough to be this smitten.

“We should leave now if we want to make the train in time. Your running late messed up our time table,” Luke says.

Ashton grins. “Who knew you were so punctual? We’d better hurry, then.”

Ashton grabs a hold of Luke’s hand, tugging him down into the subway station. Luke allows himself to be pulled along, too focused on the grip Ashton has on his hand to pay attention to much of anything else. He’s only mildly aware of swiping his Metrocard and rushing to the right platform for the train.

They manage to make it in time, Ashton tugging them to an open seat. They collapse onto the seats, pressed close to each other. Luke is hyper aware of how their thighs are touching; they’re pressed together from shoulder to hip. Ashton hasn’t let go of Luke’s hand, instead choosing to lace their fingers together and squeeze. Luke flushes, surprised at how affectionate Ashton is with someone who is largely a stranger.

“So, how do you know about this place? You mentioned it was a little outside of town,” Luke asks, hoping that focusing on the conversation will take his attention away from Ashton’s grip. He’s never been this smitten over someone who’s human. He’s supposed to have this effect on people, not the other way around.

“A friend of a friend. I found out about it one year when I was looking for a costume in college and now I just keep going back. It’s nice. They always have a good selection and it’s usually stuff I wouldn’t know about.”

Luke hums. He doesn’t have very many friends here. Despite the fact that he works at a fairly nice interior design company in the city, it’s hard for Luke to make friends. He has to always be on alert about using his magic and about being too open with non-magical people. It makes him worried and anxious some days, especially when he uses his magic at work for little things. Sometimes he uses it to change the color of a couch or curtains when he can’t find the right color. Sometimes he uses it on the room he’s designing, to bring his clients peace and happiness. He’s never malicious with his magic. Despite the stories, fairies aren’t supposed to be mean. They’re mischievous and like playing tricks, but magic shouldn’t be mean. Luke just likes using his magic when he knows it will help his clients, give them everything they want. He knows it’s why Michael opened the little café he owns, started using magic blended into the food and drinks for happiness and easing worries and whatever else he thought people might need. It’s nice, knowing that there’s some way the two of them can help people.

Ashton clears his throat, drawing Luke’s attention back to him.

“So Luke, what do you do? You seem awfully free during the day for someone with a job.”

“I’m an interior designer. Usually I’m working at this time, but sometimes I get a little flexibility with my schedule,” Luke says. He doesn’t mention that he might have spelled his boss a little to let him leave early so he could meet Ashton. It’s not like Ashton needs that information.

Ashton gives Luke a once over, smiling a bit, “I can see that. You seem very stylish and put together. You would be something snotty.”

Luke scoffs in fake offense and smacks Ashton on the shoulder, “Well, what do you do, Mr. Big Shot, that lets you leave in the middle of a work day if you’re going to tease me?”

“I’m a lawyer. Nothing too fancy, I do copyright law and such, but it’s nice.”

“Well, maybe you’re the fancy one with your high rise job,” Luke says. Ashton frowns a little bit before he must realize Luke is teasing. He huffs, rolling his eyes.

They chat for a bit on the rest of the drive, talking about growing up back home and what brought them here (school it seems is the answer), and what it is they do at their jobs. Luke’s so caught in the conversation, he almost forgets why they’re even on this trip until Ashton perks up.

“Our stop is next.”

“What?” Luke asks, letting Ashton pull him up to stand and tug him towards the door. Luke doesn’t know how Ashton even heard any kind of announcement from where he was sitting.

Ashton ignores him, instead tugging him towards the door. Luke grabs onto one of the poles as the train slows, still managing to slide a little bit and bump into Ashton. They’re still holding hands.

The train comes to a stop and Ashton tugs Luke out and down the street, pulling them in the direction of where the shop must be. It’s an older looking building, with a sign out front advertising the Halloween store inside. It feels lived in, a product of love and familiarity around it. It puts Luke at ease a bit, convinced there won’t be creepy statues jumping out at him here.

There’s a bell over the door that dings when they enter. Ashton clears his throat before yelling, “Kaykay!”

There’s a thump from somewhere in the back of the store and then Luke hears an excited, “Ashton?”

The girl that pops out from the back curtains is short with bright blue hair. Her face breaks into a wide grin as she sprints across the store, launching herself at Ashton to wrap her arms around him in a hug. Luke doesn’t realize until Ashton tugs his hand away to hug the girl, laughing, that he’s been holding his hand the whole time. He blushes, glancing away.

“What are you doing here? I haven’t seen you in ages,” Kaykay says when she detangles herself from Ashton.

Ashton grins, “I’m taking a friend costume shopping and thought of your store. Figured I had to show him a proper Halloween store.”

They both turn their attention to Luke. Luke blushes under the gaze of this girl, clearly an old friend of Ashton’s. She narrows her eyes a bit, looking Luke up and down. He must pass whatever test she has though, because her face breaks into a grin and she sticks her hand out.

“Kaykay. I own this lovely shop. You seem much too nice for our Ashton. How on Earth did you meet him?”

“Luke. He harassed me in a store about Halloween decorations and now I can’t seem to get rid of him,” Luke says, shaking her hand. She laughs loudly, snorting slightly at the end. Ashton pouts, but there’s a look in his eyes that’s almost relief. Luke tries not to read too much into it, that Ashton’s happy that Luke and one of his friends are getting along.

“Well, if you want good costumes this is the place. I have it all. Ashton can show you around. Holler if you need anything,” She says, bumping Ashton’s shoulder with a grin as she heads towards the back again.

“How do you know her? Doesn’t seem like the kind of place for a lawyer to casually be at.”

“Her girlfriend is my tattoo artist,” Ashton says, heading in the direction of what looks like the magical creature section. Luke perks up, following him. Maybe if he plays it right, he can see Ashton’s tattoos.

Ashton rugs out a pair of purple fairy wings and shows them to Luke. They’re ornate, large and iridescent in the light. Luke’s surprised by how close to accurate they are, running his fingers along the edge of them. They remind him of his own wings as they catch the light, casting a rainbow into the ground.

“What about these?”

“They’re lovely, but I already have my costume. Besides, we’re looking for something for you,” Luke points out, letting go of the wings and setting off further into the aisle. He stops in front of the werewolf costumes, face to face with another snarling mask. He startles, taking a step back and bumping into Ashton.

“What about this? You keep making all those jokes about werewolves.”

“You can’t be serious, Luke? I mean, look at it. It’s not even close to accurate. Werewolves are part wolves, they wouldn’t stand on two legs. And besides, they wouldn’t have red eyes either.”

“You sure know a lot about werewolves for someone who claims to dislike the way they’re portrayed.”

“I, uh, read a lot,” Ashton says, blushing a bit when Luke looks at him, raising an eyebrow. It’s adorable seeing him so passionate about something. Luke leans over, brushing a strand of loose hair behind Ashton’s ear. Luke feels so warm suddenly, this close to him, casual touches and all. He can’t possibly feel like he’s known Ashton so long, so personally, but he does. It feels like Ashton keeps sharing intimate parts of himself with Luke and Luke’s never been so taken by a human before. It’s going to break Luke’s heart if Ashton figures out that Luke is a fairy and leaves him. It’s happened before, but Luke doesn’t know if he could survive this one.

A crash from the back of the store startles them both. Luke pulls his hand away from Ashton’s ear, blushing as he turns back to the costumes. He picks up a pair of wolf ears and sticks them on top of Ashton’s head.

“Here, you can wear these instead. Now you’re a cute werewolf,” Luke says, giggling. Ashton smiles, touching the tips of the ears. Luke pulls a wolf tail off the rack too, holding it out to Ashton. He laughs, sharp and quick, grinning from ear to ear.

“You’re really going to lean into the wolf thing, huh?”

“Well, you made all those werewolf comments. What else could you possibly be?” Luke says. He misses the way Ashton tenses slightly, relaxing when he must realize Luke’s teasing him.

“You need to get something too,” Ashton points out. He turns back towards where they came from, heading off in that direction again. Luke follows after him, stopping when Ashton picks up an intricate floral headpiece and puts it onto Luke’s head.

“If you’re going to be a fairy, you need a headpiece. It’s tradition,” Ashton says firmly. Luke doesn’t usually wear any type of floral headpiece because it feels too on the nose, but the earnest adoration on Ashton’s face as he looks at Luke might sway him. Luke nods and Ashton grins, taking the crown off his head and continuing through the store.

They walk around for a little bit, commenting on the different costumes and decorations until it’s late enough that they both realize they have to head back home. They take their purchases up the register, where Kaykay’s standing, staring at the two of them. She laughs, pointing at the wolf ears Ashton’s still wearing, clearly forgotten about. Ashton blushes, pulling them off and putting them on the counter for her to ring up and bag.

They head back to the subway and ride it back into the City. Luke’s exhausted suddenly, tired from the day and knowing that he’ll have to spend part of tomorrow setting up for the party.

“Have fun at your Halloween party. You’ll have to send me a picture of your outfit once you get all dressed up,” Ashton says when they finally leave the subway, getting ready to part ways.

“You’ll have to show me how the wolf ears look with your whole outfit. Very Teen Wolf of you,” Luke says. Ashton laughs and leans over, placing a kiss on Luke’s cheek before turning to walk away, waving. Luke is stunned, rooted to the spot when he realizes that Ashton just kissed him. Ashton gets halfway down the block before he stops, turning back to look at Luke, red in the face. Luke waves back, hoping his face doesn’t betray how startled he feels. Ashton waves back, turning around and heading off in his direction. Luke turns around, following suit.

He makes it all the way home, still stunned by the turn of events.

“What’s gotten into you?” Michael asks, when Luke enters the apartment.

“I think I have a crush on a human.”

Michael groans, shaking his head, “You’re a disaster fairy, you know that right?”

Luke changes Michael’s hair pink in retaliation.

***

The party’s in full swing by nine. Luke is overwhelmed, his apartment crammed with people and loud with music. He’s been playing host for the last few hours, but it’s simply too much for him to handle; too much energy to talk to all the people here and smile and laugh, when most of them are Michael’s friends, or people he’s met at the bakery and friends of friends and Luke has had to use too much of his charm to keep up appearances. He’d lost Michael as soon as Calum showed up to help set up, Michael happy to latch himself onto his boyfriend, covering him in glitter and laughing, giddy and excited. Calum is dressed as some kind of Devil, red horns and all, grinning wildly when he’d seen Michael’s look.

Michael and Luke tend to take advantage of the fairy wings, working them into every Halloween costume they do. Luke tends to go classy with his look, soft fabrics and light colors, trying to look enchanting and ethereal. Michael tends to go the way of a Victoria’s Secret model, short skirts and bright colors. Tonight’s no different. Luke can see the tips of Michael’s bright green wings in the kitchen, where he’s laughing next to Calum, in his black lacy bra and matching lacy boy shorts. This year, he’s wearing a long floral printed skirt, cut high in the front to expose the lace panties, and a matching floral see-through top on, covered in small fake flowers in bright blues. He’s surrounded by a cloud of glitter, sparkling in the light and charming everyone who’s talking to him. Although, some of that could be the fact that his nipples are practically visible in the bra and that Calum has one hand wrapped around his waist, squeezing Michael’s hip whenever someone laughs too loud or gets too close to Michael. Michael doesn’t seem to mind, though, leaning into Calum whenever he does it, turning to kiss him on the cheek.

Luke is hiding in the corner of the living room, drinking whatever cider it is they have and wondering if he can hide from the crowd in his room without being rude, when he hears a whistle to his right.

“If I’d known you would be here, I’d have brought some flowers to go with your crown,” a familiar voice next to him says. Luke perks up when he realizes who it is.

“Ashton! What are you doing here?” Luke turns, laughing when he sees Ashton. He’s wearing the wolf ears and tail they’d bought together, a red flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up and jeans. Luke can see that Ashton has a set of moon tattoos on his forearm. He looks like a perfectly ordinary “werewolf,” smiling shyly at Luke as he gets closer.

“Would you believe me if I said Calum’s my best friend? He kept saying he was going to a party his boyfriend was hosting and asked me to come along, said Michael wouldn’t mind. I have to say, the decorations I picked out look nice. And I appreciate the candy,” Ashton says, grinning as he shakes the packet of sour gummies. Luke blushes, laughing and glancing away. It’s charming, how committed Ashton is to the joke of the whole thing, standing in Luke’s living room, framed by the low lights as Monster Mash plays in the background. He can’t believe a human is having this effect on him; it's ridiculous.

“Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying the party.”

“Enjoying it much more now that I’ve seen you. I’m glad to see you’re wearing the crown. When you said you were dressing as a fairy, I wasn’t expecting this. They look so real,” Ashton says in awe, reaching out to ghost his fingers lightly over Luke’s wings. They’re beautiful, iridescent pink and purple, gold glitter shedding from them whenever Luke moves slightly. Luke’s dropped his glamour for the night, letting his ears and noses become pointer, eyes their usual liquid gold color, framed in gold eyeshadow and pink lipstick. Luke’s even wearing the flower crown, soft pink and yellow blending into his blonde curls. He thinks his wings look nice with the gauzy green tulle dress he’s wearing, covered in little fabric flowers. He’s wearing a forest green lace bodysuit underneath it, easily visible through the tulle, and nude high heels. Luke knows he looks good, miles of long legs shimmering in the light, every bit the part of ethereal fairy the storybooks say he is. Ashton looks captivated by Luke, unable to look away from his wings. It bothers Luke a little, worried that Ashton only likes him because of how pretty he looks, not because of who he is.

“They should. I paid good money for this,” Luke says, his usual answer whenever someone asks about the wings. “I should have known you’d go as a werewolf, though. Are the tattoos special just for it?”

Luke reaches out, brushing a thumb over Ashton’s forearm. Ashton shudders a little under Luke’s touch, moving his arm to give him a better view of the little red and black moons. They look like a series of moon phase tattoos. How appropriate.

“You’re very committed to your werewolf joke.”

“Yeah, something like that. I saw them in a painting once and had to get them. I’ve always liked the moon,” Ashton says, voice low, watching as Luke continues to rub his thumb over them. They’re breathing in sync, Luke realizes, connected by Luke's touch on Ashton’s skin, Ashton’s fingertips still pressed lightly to Luke’s wings. Luke wants to make a joke, turn on the charm and flirt with Ashton like he usually does with people, but he can’t find the words. He’s so captivated by Ashton and his presence, trapped in his pull.

There’s a loud whoop from the kitchen area, startling them both. Luke pulls his hand back, gripping onto his bottle tighter as Ashton coughs slightly, tugging on his sleeve.

“Do you want to, um, I can give you a tour?” Luke says, voice raising in question as he glances at Ashton. Ashton perks up at that, glancing at Luke.

“Sure. I’d love to see your little home.”

Luke nods, taking the last pull from his bottle, noticing that Ashton’s staring at his throat when he tips his head back. Luke puts the bottle on the table next to them, turning to Ashton and putting on his best flirty smile.

Luke takes Ashton’s hand, interlocking their fingers and tugging him into the back of the apartment.

“You’ve seen the kitchen and the living room already. Michael’s room is back here and so is the bathroom and my room,” Luke says. He stops in front of the bathroom door, waving his hand a little to the inside. Ashton steps in, whistling when he notices the floral shower curtain and all the other little flower accents in the room.

“You guys really like flowers don’t you?”

“Well, we have to have some nature in the middle of the big city,” Luke says, stepping in after Ashton. Luke closes the door gently behind him, muffling some of the noise from the party. Ashton turns to Luke, smiling.

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing. It’s nice, sweet of you. Matches your outfit,” He says. He takes a step towards Luke, raising his hand a little as if he’s going to touch the flowers on Luke’s dress. He glances up at Luke, tilting his head in question. Luke nods quickly.

Ashton grins, running his fingers along one of the flowers on Luke’s dress. He uses his other hand to reach up and cup Luke’s cheek in his hand, humming slightly.

“Your ears are very impressive. I’m sure Kaykay would love to know where you found them. Your eyes are so golden.”

“I use really good contacts,” Luke mumbles, turning into Ashton’s palm. He presses a soft kiss to the palm, hoping it will signal to Ashton that he wants to be kissed. Ashton seems to understand, tugging Luke down a little and pressing a soft kiss to Luke’s lips.

Luke deepens the kiss, tilting his head and nipping lightly on Ashton’s lips. Ashton growls, turning them so Luke is pressed against the countertop. Ashton pulls away, nipping along Luke’s jawline and neck. Luke squirms a little, giddy and excited about the turn of events. Ashton runs his hands along the back of Luke’s thighs. Luke sighs at the touch on his legs, warm through the dress fabric, hypersensitive and hyper aware of what’s happening.

Ashton nudges Luke slightly, obviously trying to get him to sit on the counter. Luke obliges, pushing himself up onto the edge and tugging Ashton in between his spread thighs. Ashton continues to kiss along his neck and collarbone, running his fingers along Luke’s legs, pressing under the skirt and onto his skin. Luke wraps both arms around Ashton’s shoulders, playing slightly with the curls at the base of his neck. Ashton leans up, pulling Luke back into a soft, open mouth kiss, full of warmth and the sour sweet taste of candy.

Ashton pulls back, glancing up at Luke. He’s shimmering with glitter from Luke’s touch. His face is full of such wonder and adoration and for a moment Luke is afraid. Afraid that Ashton doesn’t like him at all, that Luke’s just used his magic to have his way and Ashton is going to leave him.

“You’re so beautiful. I’m going to be covered in glitter forever.”

“Well, at least you’ll have something to remember me by,” Luke teases, trying to keep the mood light. Ashton hums, running his fingers along the edge of the body suit, squeezing at Luke’s thighs.

“As much as I love kissing you, I do tend to prefer to take the people I fancy out on dates first.”

“Oh?”

“Would you maybe want to get breakfast? Brunch? Something food related in the daylight. A proper date. Tomorrow?”

Luke’s heartbeat speeds up. Ashton looks so earnest and open, glancing up at Luke bashfully. It’s so charming and endearing to see Ashton like this.

“Of course I would,” Luke whispers, running his fingers through Ashton’s hair. Ashton grins, nuzzling into Luke’s neck as Luke laughs.

“Wonderful. Amazing. We should get back to the party before anyone misses us.”

Luke nods, let’s Ashton help him down off the countertop and straighten himself out. He presses a kiss to Luke’s bare shoulder, grinning when he catches Luke’s eye in the mirror.

They venture back into the party, going off to find Michael and Calum. Luke realizes halfway through talking to them that Ashton is holding his hand, that he hasn’t let go since the bathroom. He catches Michael’s eye, who’s grinning and wiggling his eyebrows at him. Luke huffs, glancing away from him and back to Ashton. It feels right, standing here in his kitchen, close to Ashton. It feels like he was always meant to be here. He doesn’t even mind when he has to help clean up later with Michael, after everyone has left and it’s just the two of them.

Luke changes and gets into bed, checking his phone before going to sleep, seeing that there’s a text from Ashton. It’s a little heart, message reading Good night sweet fairy. Luke blushes, but his heart soars at the idea of a boyfriend, of Ashton as his boyfriend. He knows he’ll have to explain himself tomorrow but for now, he can live in this little fantasy world where everything is perfect and no one will get their heart broken with any kind of revelation.

***

Luke is nervous. Luke has never been nervous for a date before. He’s gone out with plenty of people, human and magical alike, and he’s never been nervous. Yet here he is, standing outside of the little coffee shop he and Ashton agreed to meet at, biting his lip and twisting his ring around his finger. He’s bitten his lip raw it seems, too anxious and worked up about seeing Ashton to sit still. He’s been thinking about this since last night, spent half the night staring up at the ceiling worrying about seeing Ashton. What if Ashton only likes him because Luke accidentally used his magic? What if Ashton only likes this magical version of Luke, and not Luke, who’s regular and boring and ordinary?

Luke doesn’t know if he can take it if Ashton doesn’t like him the same way. Luke’s been known to accidentally enchant people before, put them under a fairy spell, creating love where there is none. It’ll break his heart if the spark he’s felt with Ashton is manufactured and fake. He likes Ashton so much, all teasing and bright laughs, dorky jokes and adoring eyes.

“What’s got you so focused?” Ashton’s voice startles Luke, pulling his attention to the man who’s appeared out of nowhere. Ashton looks good, with his leather jacket and windswept hair. He looks worried as he stares at Luke.

“Nothing. Just nervous, that’s all.”

Ashton reaches forward, grabbing Luke’s hand. “About what?”

Luke looks down at their interlocked fingers, blushing when Ashton rubs his thumb along the back of Luke’s hand. “Our date.”

“There’s nothing to be nervous about. I’ve already seen your apartment and I’ve met your annoying roommate. You’ve met my annoying best friend and you laugh at my bad jokes. We’ve already passed all the awkward steps of dating.”

“Dating?” Luke squeaks out. If he’d known they were dating, he would have dressed nicer.

Ashton grins. “As long as you don’t order chocolate.”

He tugs a stunned Luke into the coffee shop, going up to the counter to order them coffee and sandwiches to eat. He takes the number from the girl at the register and guides them towards an empty table.

“So, if we’re going to date, I think there’s something I need to tell you,” Luke says. Better to get it over with now before either of them gets in too deep.

Ashton’s face falls, “You know?”

“Know what?”

“About me?”

Luke pauses, tilting his head in confusion, “What about you?”

“That I’m, you know…”

“A big fan of dogs? You like fairy tales? You make bad jokes?” Luke asks. He’s terribly confused as to what Ashton could be talking about. Ashton’s a human, isn’t he?

Ashton groans. He leans back in the chair, tilting his head up. “Oh my god I thought Cal would have told you both.”

“Told us what? Ashton, what was Calum supposed to tell us?”

“That we’re werewolves,” Ashton hisses out, leaning in close to Luke. Luke’s eyes go wide. He’s completely shocked. Although, maybe all the jokes now about werewolves make more sense. God, the moon tattoos are a dead give away, aren’t they now?

“What?”

“I thought you knew! Not before at the stores, obviously, but at the party. When I realized Calum was dating your friend. I thought Calum had told you both already.”

“But the decorations! The costume! Your tattoos! Wait, are you allergic to chocolate,” Luke says. The panic is rising in his throat, shock clouding his judgement, glee tinting the edges of his mood. Ashton can’t possibly be a werewolf, Luke can’t possibly be that lucky. That Ashton’s like him.

“I mean, most humans don’t get the jokes. But I thought you would have known about it. Except you didn’t say anything so I thought you were trying to be secretive about it. And no, I’m not allergic. It's just a funny little joke Calum and I have. And I prefer sour gummies, anyway,” Ashton says. His voice is rising in pitch, worry clear in his face.

Luke is giddy though, full of glee. This means that Ashton is magical too! He understands Luke. Luke doesn’t have to hide! Luke reaches across the table, grabbing Ashton’s hand. “I should tell you that Michael and I are fairies.”

It’s Ashton’s turn to look shocked and confused. “A what? Like, with the wings and shit? Like Tinkerbell?”

Luke gasps in mock offense, smacking Ashton, “Not like Tinkerbell. Do I look small to you?”

“Bratty enough,” Ashton says, grinning.

“Well I’m not the werewolf with moon tattoos.”

“Hey, you’re the fairy who wore his wings as a costume. Wait..that look wasn’t a costume, you actually look like that?”

“Of course I do! Real wings and everything. What do you take me for?”

“My whole bed is covered in glitter just from touching you. God I’m going to be covered in glitter forever, aren’t I?”

“Only if you play rough during your time of the month,” Luke teases.

“Excuse me Tinkerbell, it’s very rude to ask a werewolf about that. That’s a private and special thing.”

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

Ashton grins, nudging his foot against Luke’s, “Nah, I’m just messing with you. You deserve it after all the glitter I found in my hair.”

“Just for that, I’m going to make sure you’ll be finding glitter all over your body forever.”

“Forever? Only if you promise to wear more of that lingerie.”

Luke huffs, rolling his eyes. He lets Ashton reach over and thread their fingers together again, kissing the back of Luke’s hand. Luke blushes.

“You’re taking this surprisingly well,” Luke says. Ashton glances over at him.

“I mean, I am a werewolf.”

“And me being a fairy doesn’t bother you?”

“Should it?”

“It’s just, you know, the magic thing.”

“Are you worried you’re enchanting me? The only thing you’ve done is enchant me with how pretty you are. Werewolves are mostly immune to that kind of thing, anyway.”

Luke relaxes a little, slumping back into the chair. Ashton grins, leaning over the table to place a quick peck to Luke’s lips.

“What was that for?”

“You’re just the cutest. I’m very lucky to have such a cute boyfriend. Make all the other werewolves jealous.”

“Boyfriend?”

Ashton blushes, “I mean, if you want to. I’d like to date. Take you out places, cover my bed in glitter, other things.” Ashton wiggles his eyebrows.

Luke rolls his eyes. “Werewolves are massive dorks.”

“Only for you, Sugar Plum Fairy. Only for you,” Ashton says, laughing in the face of Luke’s mock horror and outrage. The conversation ends as their server brings them their drinks and food. They go about eating their meal, Ashton just as messy as Luke thought a werewolf would be.

“You’re staring,” Ashton says, glancing up at Luke.

“Just watching you eat, looking to see if I can see your fangs,” Luke teases. Ashton rolls his eyes, sticking his tongue out.

Luke is content, though, watching Ashton throughout the meal as he alternates between trying to eat politely and then giving up and talking with his mouth full. It’s endearing, Luke thinks, getting to date a werewolf. He’s charming and funny and Luke can’t believe that a halloween decoration got him a boyfriend. He absolutely refuses to tell Michael about this part of the story.

#5 seconds of summer #5soshalloweenevent2020 #lashton #luke hemmings #ashton irwin #my writing #it wouldnt be me if there wasnt magic involved now would there

14 notes · View notes

metalgearkong · 5 years ago

Text

The Mandalorian - Season 1 - Review

12/30/19 **Spoilers

Created by Jon Favreau & Dave Filoney

It’s a miracle that someone finally come up with something in the Star Wars universe of which fans are unanimously happy with. The Mandalorian is easily the best live-action Star Wars content since Return of the Jedi, and is some of the best Star Wars in any medium since the original trilogy concluded. This is a reasonably low budget and smaller Star Wars tale that draws inspiration from old Samurai and Western films, the very thing that inspired George Lucas to create his vision in the first place. The Mandalorian is deliberately paced, and has a focus on character over having a big entangling bombastic story.

One of my favorite features is how grounded, dirty, and inelegant the show is within its own world. The Mandalorian himself, “Mando,” (Pedro Pascal) is far from a super human with flawless skills and incredible perfection. While he clearly has experience with blasters, gadgets, and hand-to-hand combat, virtually every action scene he’s in comes off as a real guy just doing the best he can. He almost always needs help from a side character, and survives by the skin of his teeth, with only a handful of standout moments when you see him in full control of his environment and enemies. It helped make the entire show feel relatible, realistic, and dramatic.

The Mandalorian takes place a few years after Return of the Jedi and the collapse of the Galactic Empire. Jedi are still a thing of misinformation and myth. The galaxy has become a wild west, and the Force isn’t even a concept most people know about. Although I do find it odd that Mandalorians wouldn’t have some knowledge of the Force or Jedi as the two factions have quite the history together over the past thousand years. It’s a nit pick but it gives the Jedi an heir of mystery and sorcery once again. It also contributes to the low key nature of this show where magic and spectacle are nearly non-existent. The Mandalorian doesn’t seem as concerned with bringing in huge masses of audiences, although it does draw in multiple demographics, more on that later. It’s a huge relief that something in Star Wars can feel so adult and be taken seriously, and it gives me a lot of hope for the future.

The Empire itself in The Mandalorian are resigned to an underground organization, with its only high profile leader seeming to be Grand Moff Gideon (possibly operating completely independently) played by Giancarlo Esposito. They still have their share of soldiers, vehicles, and weapons ordinance, but this is no longer a galaxy ruled or patrolled heavily by the “Imps.” One of my favorite things about this show is that we get a ton of stormtroopers and scout troopers as guys in dirty armor, which are unmodified from how they look in the original trilogy. I’ve been so sick of the fake CGI that brought clone troopers and battle droids to life in the movies and other shows. Some scenes give troopers a lot of humanity and personality as well. However the show perpetuates my issue with Star Wars as a whole where rank-and-file enemy troops prove to be little or no consequence as they can’t hit anything they shoot--and die themselves in one hit. I want stormtroopers one day to actually mean something and pose a threat to a protagonist.

The true star, however, happens to be the “Child,” the most brilliant creation of the show. Most of The Mandalorian is about a lone warrior shooting guns and fighting through dangerous situations, but the Child brings in entire audiences that may not have been interested in this very macho kind of show to begin with. The best part is, he’s a natural addition to the story and lore. The Child isn’t just an adorable shoe-in to give women and kids something to go “aaaw” at. The Child is an infant member of Yoda’s race, a race the creators intentionally never gave any detail on ever in Star Wars history. It sparks tons of intrigue as to where the race is from, how it develops, and its natural strong connection to the Force. It’s one of the greatest mysteries of the show and aside from the Child’s cute antics, it kept me hooked.

Mando himself is your typical stoic gunslinger type who makes his living on bounty hunting. While he doesn’t have much uniqueness at first, you slowly learn more about him and the Mandalorian clan he is part of. Pedro Pascal gives a great physical performance, as his face is hidden by the helmet he is sworn never to take off in front of another living thing. The Mandalorians themselves seem to be a creed of people who were once regarded as great warriors, but are now nearly extinct. It’s yet another mystery to the show that I crave to learn more and more about. The heart and soul of this show is truly the relationship between the Child and Mando, two people who couldn’t be more opposite, and I think the memes infecting the entire internet speak for themselves.

We run into a lot of great side characters as well, usually one stand out per episode. These sidekicks are usually played by famous comedians or actors, and it was a fun game of “who’s that” every week it came on. These people Mando comes across are usually former solders or people who fall into the Chaotic Neutral category of washed up past their prime. The best of these is IG-11, the same model as IG-88 briefly seen in Empire Strikes Back and several Legends material. We finally get to see this kind of droid in action and why it’s so great. IG-11 is brought to life by excellent CGI, and what I’m guessing is a lot of robotic work as well. He’s voiced by none other than Taika Waititi and he gives a hilarious and poignant personality to the hunter droid.

My other favorites include Carl Weathers as a bounty hunting guild leader, Nick Nolte as a lonely but helpful Ugnaught engineer, and Gina Carano as Cara Dune, a former Rebel shock trooper. Each of these characters are contrasted to Mando’s. He gets help one way or another from these people, and it helps flesh out his character seeing how he reacts to what they do and say. Mando goes through a great but subtle arch throughout the show, as we see him go from what appears to be a cold blooded killer, to someone who cares again about the people around him. Again, it’s nothing new or original, but it’s executed very well. The side characters aren’t just celebrities of the week either. Many of them come back in later episodes to help Mando and the Child, and I hope they continue to appear in future seasons.

Not only does The Mandalorian pay excellent homage to the original trilogy, but also combines elements from both the prequel and sequel trilogies as well. Small things like technology and droids (mostly background elements) help solidify the entire Star Wars canon in very subtle and realistic ways. It’s a great transitional time in the universe between the Empire and the First Order, and I can’t wait to see how this show continues to exist and influence the world its in. The only weakness I could say is that many of the episodes don’t go through a lot of change in terms of plot, and are more excuses for character introductions and character development. The show is so well executed, however, this isn’t a huge problem because nearly every minute has something to appreciate and enjoy. I love the mature tone and pace, and hope that never changes.

The Mandalorian may be a sign that Star Wars should transform itself to being small scaled. It seems like just about everything that can be done with the Jedi has been done, and I don’t know how you can throw more twists into Force using and blowing up giant super weapons. The Mandalorian was created with so much love and care, I want all Star Wars content to follow this same philosophy. Forget the big movies with huge lineages and chosen one prophecies, I want to take a fine toothed comb to the underbelly of the Star Wars universe. Keep it character focused, keep it low key. I can’t wait to see what future seasons of this show hold, and I pray that it maintains its quality and pace its established here.

8.5/10

19 notes · View notes

mikkock · 4 years ago

Note

I love the drawings of your ocs so much! How do you come up with them (and so many)?!

Thank u v much!!!!

As to how I have that many, sometimes I have homework, n so instead of doing it I make an OC, that’s how i get that many.

More seriously, I think the sheer amount comes from the way I rarely make ONE new OC on its own, I like creating them by friend group, so when I add new people, it’ll rarely be by less than chunks of 4. Since I develop OCs’ personnalities etc... by imagining interractions between them, making them on their own isnt much fun, and doesnt help me give them an actual characterisation lmao.

Generally I make a new squad when I get an idea of a theme or vibe that I don’t actually have (for exemple the one i dote on most these days are like “the art kids” cause i realised i had bitches in mostly any field but art n thats like. what i do, so i made em n accidentally got too attached). It often comes from “ah i wanna portray this or that” n then I make a group of people to tell about “this or that”, and then I hyperfixate on them for a two years til I move on to a new subject...

Case study time cause This “Story” created a TON just for it, but Vince n Xiaoli’s story (I think I have a post on them but I’m kinda too lazy to get it but in short childhood best friends got seperated very suddenly n try to find each other again when they’re adults despite only having very vague memories of each other) had me need to create SO MANY side characters!! Both of them are outgoing people to an extent so they both had their regular friendgroup (so I needed an ‘USA’ squad and a ‘HK’ squad), then I also needed a bit of ‘Competitive Athletes’ since Vince is one, and you don’t want big competitions to be just the main guy n faceless individuals... I DID recycle A LOT OF characters when they matched the requirements (mostly geographic requirements lmao), but just to make the entourage of these two, I created about ten new characters (+the two mains).

And when creating those groups, I try to think of the profiles of the existing characters to make other personnalities (cause if they all have the same traits that aint gon do fun interractions) that not only would get along but also can have some clashes cause conflict is fun in stories. I wont want to make a group full of playful demons, nor do i want a group of serious peaceful diplomats, I try to put a bit of everything and make it cohesive. If two characters clash constantly I will also put in a calm peacemaker, and also an energetic fun one to make the group move on from the conflict. Cause even though having all the characters the same n get along is boring, if they’re supposed to be Tight Buddies, having them be constantly fighting and never solve their conflict wont make it realistic (they should have disagreements, even sometimes fight, but in the end they care bout each other n love each other and overcome those conflicts, and that’s why they’re the tightest friends)

I also try to make them diverse visually because I don’t want to be drawing the same face all the time (sdfhgdjfjgs i say, as i always draw,,, the same bitches,,,,im a fraud) But in general I think like, if I were to draw a line up of all the characters (just the thought makes me shiver what a task), would they be identifyable from one another? Or would it be a confusing “why did you draw that one five times?”. Ideally I want mostly only the ones who are related to look similar, though if some peeps who arent share some traits but are different enough sometimes I let it slide cause I mean, in a hundred people some are bound to look a bit alike right? Not exactly the best design mindset lmao but I’m doing this for fun so whatevs u kno? So it’s a game of balancing making them different enough but also not obsessing over it, and I generally settle that with giving each kid some defining characteristics (a specific noseshape, eyebrows, teeth stuff, mouth shape etc...).

By giving a few to each character I make sure that they stay recognisable through that combo of features. (for ex, sometimes i feel i made vince’s n kai’s faces a bit too similar, but even in black and white and with a swimming cap on, they maintain little differences - kai’s eyebrow slit and eyebags, vince’s dimples and hollower cheeks, and their noses have opposite slopes, kai’s bumps slightly upwards n vince’s goes in, its not a LOT but its enough for me lmao, especially combined with like, their different colours and styles)

When you got a lot of stories in mind, the numbers quickly go up (and i say that as someone who has most stories be with the sAME TWO BITCHES IN ALTERNATE STORIES)

anyway tl:dr find a subject u want to talk about or a story you want to tell, make a handful of characters to tell it, spend all your time daydreaming about them interacting. give them all a little of something that makes em unique. boom u got ocs. (n then only ever draw the same two despite havin a hundred of kids)

#long post #?maybe?#all my posts are long lmao i hav a lot to say n i dont know how to sum up my thoughts #also a key point of doing ocs for me is that all of em are hot so that i want to draw them all the time lmao #i don't have a single ugly oc how sad #u kno what they say like father like son i just cant make an unsexy oc cuz im just so hot u_u thats it that's the reason #but i guess its more like 'make ocs that u like n then ull spend ur life thinking about them'#make ocs ull fall in love with #give them personnalities n looks that are attractive TO YOU #and then spend all ur time thinking about them n theyll grow into people

2 notes · View notes

theparanormalperiodical · 5 years ago

Text

Scary Halloween Costumes: Your Guide To Realistic and Really Spooky Costumes (On A Budget)

“In the real world, Halloween is when kids dress up in costumes and beg for candy.

In Girl World, Halloween is the one day a year when a girl can dress up like a total slut and no other girls can say anything else about it”

Set your stop watches people - we’ve got 11 days to prepare for the most wonderful time of the year: Halloween.

And despite the cultural traditions echoing across the world, there is one phenomenon that dominates the rest.

Halloween costumes.

It’s the personalised touch Christmas loses out on, and it's the one day of the year we can awaken our inner child.

And no, I don’t mean the therapeutic kind where you get in touch with your real, raw self. I mean the inner child that wants to pull on a Pennywise cosplay and eat an unrealistic amount of processed crap.

Working out your halloween costume requires thought and consideration. And then giving up on creating a latex prosthetic and slapping on a pair of cat ears.

But at the Paranormal Periodical, we like to do things a bit different.

If you like things spooky and you’re a bit skint, pull up a chair - welcome to your complete guide to realistic halloween costume ideas!

Every year we see the classic costumes: a witch in a black hat; a vampire sporting a single drop of fake blood on the lip; and a zombie with a scrape of blood down one arm.

I’ve decided to shake shit up.

I’ve taken the most common costumes, and gone back to the roots of the creatures. Yep, I’m rewriting halloween, and putting scary back on the menu!

So, if you’re considering being a witch, vampire, zombie, or mermaid, here is your guide to the realistic costumes.

Let’s get spooky!

The Witch

It’s a classic.

It’s the go-to option for women, merely requiring a pointy hat you can grab from Claire’s, and the clothes from your goth phase when you were 14.

Add a smudge of black eyeshadow, practice a cackle, and boom.

You just got halloweened.

But actual witches from way-back-when weren’t so Instagram.

In fact, they were considered the worst kind of women: hag-like, old, ugly, disgusting women. If you can think up a trope for a stereotypically ugly woman - which isn’t necessarily true, I mean, people rock unibrows every damn day - then put it in your costume.

Back in the 1640s, witches were considered poor, crone-like women. That’s a moustache, wrinkles, hairy brows, squinted eyes, and crooked teeth.

Also, they had teats! No, that’s nothing to do with their actual nipples, you won’t have to do anything to your own.

Basically, a point of ID for a witch was a devil’s mark - that’s scars, pimples, birthmarks - anything which symbolised their pact with the devil. Or, they had extra nipples which their animal sidekicks would suckle from.

Speaking of scars, if a witch pricked her finger, and it didn't bleed, the subject was a witch fo sho. And if they placed their hands on a dead body that they had killed, the body would start to bleed.

The final trademark fashion statement comes from one of the witch tests: dunking.

Aside from being stripped to her scanties, the witch’s thumb was tied to her big toe and a rope was cinched around her waist. She was chucked into a body of water - if she floated, she was a witch! If she sunk, she would die!

Yeah, it’s not a good test.

So, how does all that shizz translate to a costume?

Here’s how:

For the signature makeup, go with a heavy brow, and dark, eyelined eyes to perfect the squint.

Then, fake scar it up. I’m talking dots of red on your hands, maybe draw a pink circle on your face for a nipple, and slash a lipstick scratch up your arm.

Or, ditch the red dots on your hands for literal red hands - just like the blood pouring out of your victim’s body. It could be fake blood, it could be red nails, it could even be patches of dark reddy-brown!

Whatever it is, finish the look with the iconic style of a witch:

Follow up with the fashion twist on a black pointy hat, tie a rope around your waist to give shape to the look, and tie some wool or string around your fingers.

That’s right; accessorise your way to authenticity.

The Vampire

This is the unisex approach to halloween.

Couple of drips of fake blood, maybe an Edward Cullen inspired quiff - anything can be a costume if its teamed up with the im-100-years-old-but-look-17-so-its-not-creepy smoulder.

But there’s a lot more to the vampire phenomenon that didn’t make it into Nosferatu, nor Twilight.

Vampires were popularised in the 19th century, so most of their style inspo was based on Victorian vibes. But in terms of their bodies and faces, there are some striking features you need to know about:

Vampires were often regarded as have bloated faces and bodies, and ruddy looking skin; these are the supposed effects of blood drinking.

And this blood was also believed to seep out of the mouth - and the nose. But fangs? They were rarely reported.

These features from past vampire sightings have been typically debunked via two explanations: the disease, Poryphoria, a group of diseases which cause blistering and itching in sunlight, and the past’s lack of knowledge regarding decomposition.

So, fancy reworking your Edward Cullen into something a little less up-to-date?

Here’s what you need to do:

Take your fangs and fake blood stash from last year, and do the classic drip from the lip look.

But this time, smear a little under your nose, too.

Speaking of facial features, it’s time to get ruddy - that means giving yourself a flushed look. So, grab some blush - reddy, pink tones, only - and go to town. I’d suggest a patchy look for the deathy vibes.

And make sure you leave your contouring kit in your make-up bag - aim for a bloated, round-faced look. Or, opt for loose clothes or something baby bump-esque to bloat out your half-dead body.

To finish the look, dab on some liquid latex and pull apart to give wrinkly, blistery skin in patches. You can even check out my tips for being a zombie to ensure you achieve the death you aim for!

The Zombie

In more recent years, this has become to go-to for quick costumes, thanks to show like The Walking Dead.

But it’s not the easy part of the look that I love, it’s this: a zombie is an inclusive halloween costume.

Anyone can do it.

You can pull out your FX make-up stash to show your skull’s skin peeling off and limb rotting, or simply pull a face and make a groaning noise.

You don’t even have to buy new clothes! Put on your usual get up, and stick your arms out like a Mummy.

#nailedit

But - if you’re asking me - achieving the realistic death look isn’t an expensive or difficult feat.

Zombies are supposed to be the undead; they’re infected and they’re decaying.

So, let’s go through some of the features of slowly rotting corpses:

A few minutes into death - aside from going cold, and going pale - cells begin to die and leak as they breakdown. Couple hours after the beginning of that process, things start to get shitty...

Yep, piss and poop just start leaking out ya body.

Then, your skin starts to sag, leaving it pale with red patches. Then, that skin shrinks, making your hair and nails appear as if they are growing.

Following this, your skin turns green as you begin to digest your organs. Then bugs, like maggots, take part in consuming your body.

It’s not long before you turn purple, lose hair, and slowly become a skeleton.

And there you have it.

#decayed

Question is, how can achieve this look?

Settle in folks, and let’s get dead.

(Oh, and I can assume you don’t want to be a skeleton with purple skin draping on your bones; so let’s cut to the early effects!)

To get your undead chic on, here’s what’s on your to-do list:

For ya face, make things red and patchy with a dab of red lipstick smudged around your visage. Oh, and don’t forget to moisturise and highlight - think less leaking cells, more dewy finish.

A few patches of grotesque green will further the final look. You could even put gel on the ends of your hair to make it seem wet, or longer, and define your fingernails with brown eyeshadows.

Yep, start contouring your nails - let’s start a #trend.

Ready to take things to the next level? Cut some gummy worms up, and latex ‘em to your face.

Et voila, ya ded.

The Mermaid

Our final option is the current Insta-fave.

Joining the ranks of the pastel-aesthetic is the glittery, highlighted-on-fleek mermaid.

But why be pretty, when you can be pretty damn realistic?

Fact is, nothing is more realistic - and scary - than climate change. So, it follows that any mermaid will probably be struggling in the plastic-filled hot tub that is the ocean.

It’s time to swap the dewy, contoured fish finish for an actual mermaid. Or, well, a dead one.

Typically, a dead human who had been left in the ocean would have several zombie-like characteristics that would be exacerbated by the sea water.

Your body breaks down much more slowly in water, and salt water - like sea water - would slow the decaying process even more so. A body left in the ocean for 2 weeks will look the same as one left in open air for a week!

So, that’s the red, patchy, dewy finish we already discussed with zombies.

And instead of the pruning you get in a bubble bath, imagine blistering, black skin. Plus, that skin also becomes swollen, and bleached, giving you the bloated, patchy glow that you don’t see in The Little Mermaid.

Oh, and don’t forget your body!

Thanks to accumulating gases, the abdomen swells from bloating.

Fun fact: this is what makes corpses turn upside down and rise with the torso and head at the water’s surface!

So, are you ready to get your mermaid on?

Swap your Ariel wig and beachy waves for patchy, red and green skin, and use latex to create blistered, wrinkled skin in patches.

Simply follow my tips for a go-to zombie look, and like, make it wetter.

Don’t forget to stuff a jumper down your shirt to puff out your abdomen - bonus points for farting out those gases filling out your torso.

Now, go get your fish on!

So: which supernatural being are you vibing with this All Hallows’ Eve?

And which of your past halloween costumes have you been most proud of?

(Mine was my Man-Spider costume from last year...)

12 notes · View notes