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acraftedmistake · 3 years ago

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A Person Who Has Never Played MCSM Writes A Story About MCSM Chp. 15

CHP 15!!!!! Some good times and bad times lie ahead......

Enjoy!

“Everything okay?” Jess asked. Aiden was about to leave the house but had stopped halfway out the door, turned back around, and scanned the first floor while Jess and Olivia waited for him.

“Yeah.” Aiden said slowly as he began to close the door, twisting the knob to make sure he wouldn’t accidentally lock the three of them out, “Just thought I heard something.” He walked away from the house and patted his hair down. “You two ready to go?”

“Mhm!” Olivia finished zipping up the olive green jacket Stella had lent her. She was hiding her face with the hood of the gray sweatshirt Cassie gave her the day before as well. She knew there weren’t too many people out at this hour, but better safe than sorry.

Jess was wearing the leather jacket and beanie again, but he wasn’t too concerned about hiding his face this time. Earlier, he made a minor complaint that his clothes felt rather stiff after wearing them for a few days straight, to which Aiden promised that once they got back home he would throw their clothes in the washer.

“Let’s get going!” Jess said, adjusting the beanie on his head. Originally, Jess wasn’t too thrilled at the idea of going out at this hour. Knowing there might be Awakening members roaming around, or his alternate self--who had no problem beating Radar in broad daylight--made Jess uncertain over the safety of Obsidian Town’s streets. Aiden assured him that they’d be alright, it’d be three against one, and--in his words--he ‘Wants to do somethin’ nice for Olivia after last night’.

Jess appreciated the thoughtfulness, and in the end, visiting Olivia’s grave was up to… Well, Olivia, but he’d still be ready in case a creep tried to pull something.

Jess couldn’t really blame Olivia for wanting to check out her grave. It’s her place of death. When would you ever get an opportunity to visit a place like that again? Not to mention, Jess had been wanting to get a better look at Obsidian Town rather than getting glimpses or constantly staring at the ground.

The three walked to the left and started their journey to the cemetery. Aiden and Olivia were making small talk, so Jess took this time to absorb his surroundings.

Up ahead, he could spot a tall, crooked, ivory colored tower in the distance. That must’ve been the library Olivia mentioned before. Even from all the way over here Jess could see how ruined the place was. Cracks stretched across it, it was riddled with holes, and it looked moments away from collapsing.

Jess scanned the streets. The long, thin black lamp posts on each side had thin string-lights tied to their tops that stretched across the streets in a zig-zag like manner. It’s a shame they weren’t on at the moment, they must’ve been wonderful when lit.

There were empty stalls they’d pass by occasionally. Colorful, patterned tents protected the bare tables, empty boxes, and scraps sitting underneath. Jess noticed each stall had string lights, small lanterns, or candles for light. He’d catch quick glimpses at folded signs tucked away and papers taped onto poles advertising items and prices. Seeing all of this reminded him of the farmer markets Beacon Town. Jess would always act so crabby when he woke up early for them, but it wouldn’t take long for him to get hyped up and dashing around the place until closing time.

The stalls and all were nice, but Jess couldn’t help but find Obsidian Town’s buildings to be… Underwhelming.

Many of the buildings, from what he could see, were constructed with the same materials: stone, wood, bricks, concrete, the occasional polished granite and diorite, and the rare terracotta. There were variations with the colors, but seeing the same materials got real tiring real fast.

And most structures here were just shapes. That’s all that could really be said. Squared, rectangled, plain shapes to fit the equally-plain materials. Even the sizes of the buildings felt plain. Many were one to two stories, a large handful reached three, and hardly any were four.

Jess was so used to Beacon Town’s monstrous structures, giant jungle trees sprouting from windows, walls of colored glass creating magnificent designs, and bridges stretching from roof to roof that connected the town together. The fun types of builds! It might sound chaotic but that’s what made Beacon Town feel like home. Obsidian Town was just that. A town.

‘Don’t think the people here can risk being experimental, to be fair.’ Jess told himself as he remembered how often quakes struck. He thought back to his town again. He thought about how so many homes would quickly collapse the moment a strong-enough quake would hit. Beacon Town was fun, but it wasn’t built with ‘sturdiness’ in mind, unlike Obsidian Town.

While the construction and sizes of these buildings were on the more ‘basic’ side, the way the citizens decorated the exteriors of their homes and stores was magnificent. Oh, how he loved their decorations. From markets using barrels, wagons, and carefully stacked crates to advertise their fresh fruit and flowers, to cafes that’d have their furniture with their own color schemes and accessories to make them stand out from one another. Some places had porches decorated with flowers and swinging benches, while others had balconies with tiny lights.

Jess would get a second to peer into windows they’d pass by, catching glimpses of interiors that’d tempt him to come closer and press his face against the glass to get a better look. Actually, he hadn’t noticed it right away, but so many windows in Obsidian Town were colored. They didn’t have any intricate designs--a majority of them were one solid color--unlike the stained glass back at the Order Hall, but they were still charming. He pictured in his head how vibrant the streets must be when night comes… The lights from the inside mixing with the colors of the glass must be magnificent.

One place that REALLY caught Jess’ attention was a stone gray building tucked between two larger ones. It had a simple square base, but had a noticeable tilt to it. It had a staircase that wrapped around it’s walls and led to the roof, where a smaller room sat atop, equally slanted. A wooden sign hung from above the door and had the words “Glass Art” on it. Purple, pink, and blue glass shards and chimes were held by opaque strings from the overhang; there was a large, round, beautiful stained glass window with the same colors beside the door.

The glass art reminded Jess of Ivor and his potions. Man… How is Ivor? Is he doing alright? Is he worried? Hopefully he’s not working himself to the bone trying to find a way to save him and Olivia. Jess couldn’t wait to get back home and give that old man a big ol’ hug.

Come to think of it, has anyone mentioned anything about potions while they’ve been here? He doesn’t remember Olivia’s book talking about them, nor any of Aiden’s friends bringing them up… Are there no potions here? Or maybe there’s a lack of materials? They couldn’t go to the Nether or mine without a license--which STILL boggles Jess’ mind--so that probably made gathering resources hard. How would Ivor react to this? He’d probably say: ‘Pah! A universe without potions is a miserable one. Back in my day, we’d travel hundreds of miles to find the finest ingredients for our--’

“Jess!” He heard Olivia call his name. He spun around and saw her and Aiden standing under a stone arch. Olivia had her hands on her hips.

“You done dreamin’?” Aiden asked.

Jess didn’t realize how far he had strayed from the two. He hurried over and joined them at the arch.

“Sorry, sorry, I was busy thinking.” He skidded to a halt and fixed his beanie.

“Just glad nobody saw you.” Aiden said, “I almost stopped her from calling you cause I wanted to see how far you’d walk off.”

“Could you imagine if he got caught like that?” Olivia asked, “One moment he’s strolling through the streets, and the next he’s being pounced on by guards all because he was too busy sightseeing.” Her and Aiden chuckled at the thought.

“Oh, so it’s a crime to appreciate a town now?” Jess dramatically placed his hands on his hips, mimicking Olivia’s posture.

“It's illegal for you.” Aiden said, “Now come on, there’s a shortcut through the park.”

Aiden walked through the moss-covered stone arch. On each side of the arch were thick, green hedges that boxed in the park. Olivia noticed that, unlike the buildings in this town, the hedges didn’t form an actual shape; it would jut in and out at random, creating odd angles and corners. It was strange but charming.

A path that started under the arch and looped around the area, creating a horseshoe-like shape. Aiden ignored the path and continued walking straight through the grass. Olivia saw the usual things most parks had: Benches, lampposts, a sign telling people not to litter. She also noticed leftover chalk on the sidewalk, laying right beside children’s drawings of stick figures and hopscotch.

Obsidian Town’s park was small, nice, simple, and… Honestly a little dark. The thick clouds were already blocking most of the sun’s light, but the few, tall, thick trees had branches that hid nearly every inch of the sky. Despite how dim it was, Olivia could still spot wild flowers sprinkled around the grass, along with the bugs buzzing around them.

Honestly--and Olivia felt bad thinking this--she preferred this sort of park over whatever the heck Beacon Town had going on. Yes, Beacon Town was great in it’s own way. People could build whatever they wanted, and that’s wonderful, but sometimes she’d just like to take a walk without a constant ruckus surrounding her. Sometimes she just wanted peace and quiet--

“That guy’s missing his entire head!” Jess suddenly whisper-shouted as he lightly shook Olivia. Her heart started beating frantically as she hurriedly spun her head around. Her mind was going all over the place. Was it a decapitated corpse? A strange, alternate-universe monster? Or--or--

It was a statue.

“Jess, you nearly gave me a heart attack.” She sighed with relief.

“Sorry,” He took his hands off of her and pointed, “check it out though!”

Both Olivia and Aiden were looking at the statue now. It was a man frozen midrun, an axe held back--stuck in a swinging motion--while the other hand held up his battered shield, which covered his face. If he had a face, that is. It had to be The Impossible Man. Olivia wasn’t sure who else it could’ve been.

“He’s definitely seen better days.” She said under her breath. Besides his entire head missing, a majority of his body was covered in dirt, children’s chalk, and other strange stains. Cracks started from his broken neck and traveled to his chest, his armor was chipped and scratched, and a good portion of his axe had broken off as well.

“Yeah, I think there’s a couple more statues around here?” Aiden mentioned as they continued walking, “They’re all in pretty bad shape. The kids like to mess with them.”

Aiden scanned the park. “There’s one,” He pointed to the upper corner on the left side of the park. A statue was placed on a podium right in front of a tree. Despite the fact one of his legs was missing, he appeared to be sitting comfortably, gazing at the tree tops peacefully.

“Annnndddd…” Aiden kept turning his head in different directions, “I’m pretty sure there was a head somewhere… Oh!” He spun around, walking backwards now as he pointed to the direction of the entrance. Jess and Olivia followed his finger, their eyes landed on a wooden bench--and right beside it was a small column with a broken bust of the man on top. Olivia couldn’t make out much of the man’s face from here, but she kept getting the eerie feeling that his fractured eyes were somehow watching her. Constantly. Unblinking. She shuddered.

“You think the quakes are the reason they’re missing some parts?” She heard Jess ask aloud.

“I find it really hard to believe they somehow stood through all of those quakes and just lost a head or a leg. They might've been stolen.” Olivia theorized.

Jess put his hand on his chin, stroking an imaginary beard, “I think I remember seeing Hadrian have a couple of statue parts at his place…”

“What? You think old people just like to steal random body parts during their free time?” She grinned.

“That’s what I’d like to do when I retire!” He chuckled. Olivia rolled her eyes playfully.

The three came to a stop in front of a wall of hedge that stood a couple inches taller than Aiden. Unlike the rest of the hedges, this one probably hasn’t been trimmed in months. The surface was extremely uneven; hundreds of tiny branches and leaves stuck out and got tangled with one another. This hedge was also covered in flowers. Tons of them. Clusters of fluffy-looking, light pink flowers were scattered throughout, and were nearly as big as Olivia’s face. The ground was covered in old petals.

Olivia made sure that every strand of hair was tucked inside her hood. There was no way she wanted to spend the rest of the day picking out the twigs, leaves, and petals that’d get stuck in there.

Aiden walked to the right, staring into the bush and running his hand over it as he mumbled to himself, trying to remember where the shortcut was. Olivia and Jess awkwardly shuffled along. Aiden soon stopped, crouched down, then put his hand into the bush. He then took it out, huffed, scooched over a couple more inches, and repeated the process.

After a minute of searching, Aiden started talking to himself. “Maybe it’s on the left side? I could’ve sworn we--!” Aiden suddenly fell forward and into a large hole in the hedge.

Man, if Aiden hadn’t fell through, Olivia would’ve also thought he’d forgotten where the entrance was. The branches hid the hole well.

Jess helped Aiden to his feet. Aiden thanked him as he moved aside, motioning towards the hole.

“You guys go ahead.” Aiden said, “I’ll wait for you to go through.”

Jess and Olivia glanced at each other before Jess gave her a little bow, “After you.”

“How kind.” Olivia curtsied. She crouched and crawled through. The dirt was already making her pants a little damp.

Luckily, despite a few scratches, the crawl only lasted a few seconds.

She got up, cleaned herself off, and waited for the boys.

Jess’ head soon popped out from the hole. Leaves and tiny branches were caught in his hair. He wriggled himself out and brushed off his clothes.

“Here, let me help with your hair.” Olivia started plucking the sticks out.

“Thanks!” Jess said happily as he took off and shook the leaves off his beanie.

It was quiet for a couple of moments as they cleaned themselves up. Olivia felt her smile twitch.

“Hey, Jess,” She started slowly, “I’m… I’m sorry.”

Jess put his hat back on, “What for?”

“I know you don’t have the best feelings towards Aiden right now,” She stared at her feet, “I hope it doesn’t feel like I’m dragging you along.”

“What? No, no, no!” Jess exclaimed, “Look, I was real mad last night, but I wanted to go with you!”

Olivia brought her head back up to Jess, a tiny smile of relief on her face.

“And I’m sticking to my word. We’ll stick together no matter what.” Jess shoved his hands into his pockets. “And uh… We don’t really have a choice when it comes to trusting Aiden and his friends, but things aren’t gonna get better if I keep blowing up like I did yesterday--” A sudden grunt interrupted Jess and caused both of them to jump.

They turned to see Aiden struggling to get out of the bush. How much did he hear? Hopefully not too much. Hopefully.

Aiden tries to use his free arm to pull the rest of his body out, but after a few more seconds he stopped fighting and let his face fall to the ground.

“... I’m stuck again.” He could hear Olivia and Jess snicker as they grabbed his hand and began to pull. They were able to pull him out in no time.

“Thanks.” Aiden said as he shook off the dirt--and the embarrassment. “The memorials are on the other side of the cemetery. Should only take a minute to get there.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When they entered the cemetery, Jess kept his eyes peeled for any familiar names on the gravestones. A few graves had rather unusual colors to them. There was a dusty red one, an uncommon shade, but not odd. Then he’d walk by a blue one; he’s never seen a grave that color before--well, Reuben’s memorial had bits of blue in it, does that count?--Then he walked by a purple grave, a green one, an orange one?

“This is… The happiest looking cemetery I’ve ever seen.” Olivia said as she beheld the rest of the graveyard.

“Is that a compliment?” Aiden asked.

Olivia kept staring at tombstones until she finally said “I don’t know, I’ve just never seen a place for the dead look so… Lively.”

Taking in the rest of the graveyard, Jess had to agree . What was usually a dark, gloomy, dreary place was so, so vibrant. Even under this cloudy, dull weather, the many colors still popped. This was more like a miniature festival than a cemetery! Many tombstone tops looked like roofs with their pointed tops and little overhangs. Their heights and widths would range from short and broad to tall and scrawny. Heck, Jess could spot a couple of graves as tall as him.

“What the heck are your cemeteries like?” Aiden glanced back at them.

“Plainer colors, I guess?” Jess shrugged, “You know, blacks, grays, browns, nothing too flashy.” The only exception Jess could think of was, once again, Reuben's memorial.

“Really?” Aiden sounded genuinely baffled by this. “We hardly got any of those. What do they mean?”

Olivia and Jess exchanged confused expressions with each other before Jess faced Aiden again, “Sadness? Loss? I don’t think there’s any real meaning behind those colors, honestly.”

“Right, we don’t typically associate bright colors with the dead.” Olivia added in, viewing the cemetery again. Scrawny trees and tiny flowers with stems that reached her knees that were peppered around the area; most were in between the graves. She thought about Aiden’s question, “I’m assuming the colors here represent something specific?”

“Yeah, buncha things. Too many for me to keep track of, but I remember the important ones.” Aiden started as they continued walking down the damp dirt path. “When a person dies, their friends and family can choose the color of their grave. It’s usually… Like… Hm. It’s supposed to show what the person was like when they were alive, ya know? Yellow for the happy people,” He explained while pointing to a shorter grave of said-color, “orange for determination, that sorta stuff. Stella’s memorized ‘em all. If you ever wanna know more, she’s the person to ask.”

As Aiden kept talking, Olivia and Jess kept taking in their surroundings. Jess had noticed something. Every single grave they passed was decorated with gems. The gems were placed close by the names and dates of those who passed, and seeing so many of them in various shapes, colors, and sizes made him curious…

“Hey, uh, what’s with the gems?” Jess spoke up, “Are they real?” He was wondering if maybe they were regular stones that were carved and painted. There was no way Obsidian Town could have an overabundance of minerals, especially since the citizens needed a mining license.

“Nah, they’re glass.” Aiden replied, “I thought they were real myself until we had to choose some gems for Lukas--” He suddenly stopped in his tracks. Jess and Olivia peered over and saw a lit redstone torch placed in front of a grave. Aiden plucked the torch from its place, a scowl on his face as he blew out the flame then chucked the burnt wood across the cemetery.

“Anyways, what was I sayin’?” He began walking again, as if nothing out of the ordinary happened.

‘What was that about?’ Jess thought to himself. It must’ve been linked to the cult, right? Why else would Aiden have done that?

“Right!” He snapped his fingers,” So the gems are basically like the colors of the graves. We had to go to this special place where the people there pulled out huge chests filled with those things. Took us forever to pick ‘em out.”

“Each color chosen means something for the person that passed…” Jess whispered to himself as Aiden’s words from earlier echoed through his mind. He was rather fond of how Obsidian Town remembered their dead. It was more uplifting than what he was used to. Maybe he could make some changes to the graveyards once they get back to Beacon Town.

Aiden was quiet for a minute before he added, “Gill took the longest. He was real worried his gem wouldn’t be good enough.” He paused. “He… he ended up crying.”

His voice got quieter, “I hated seeing him like that.”

Jess and Olivia both tried to think of what to say, what ‘s the next best thing to do, but Aiden immediately changed the subject.

“What do you guys put on your graves?” Aiden asked, he sounded ‘normal’ again, but kept facing away from the two.

Jess hesitated, “Names. Dates.”

“A description of the person who passed.” Olivia added.

“Just words? Doesn’t that get a little… Depressing?” Aiden narrowed his eyes.

“Oh, you think that’s sad? We once wrote out an entire dictionary on a guy’s grave back in our universe.” Jess answered jokingly. Olivia let out a little giggle, and they even heard a chuckle out of Aiden.

That small chuckle was all Jess needed to hear to continue telling quips and share short, funny stories at Aiden’s way to try and lighten the mood. Aiden was soon sharing his own experiences mixed in with his own humor. Aiden and Jess were bouncing off of each other, making fun of their own universes while Olivia would throw in her commentary every now and then.

‘This is so weird…’ Olivia thought to herself. The three of them laughing while walking through a cemetery… it’s something that’d usually feel inappropriate to do, but here she wasn’t all that bothered.

This whole experience has been surreal. Entering a rainbow of a cemetery through a bush felt like something that’d only happen in her dreams, yet here she was. Honestly, it was a nice change of pace to not feel worried for her and her friend’s life for a moment.

She had nearly forgotten the dread she felt when she originally suggested coming here.

And then Aiden spoke up.

“Okay, okay, we’re finally--” Aiden stopped. “Here.” All happiness in his tone had left.

That didn’t sound good. That didn’t sound good at all. Olivia grabbed onto the string of her hoodie and began to pull on it as she slowly peered over Aiden. Standing before him were two graves. Olivia’s eyes were drawn to the shorter one. She trailed down the grave, the coral color fading into a deep shade of red until she stopped at the flowers laying beside a lit, redstone torch.

Olivia held her breath. Jess got close to her as Aiden approached the torch. He grabbed it by it’s barely-scorched base and brought it to his face to blow out the flame. Instead of throwing it away like the last one, he just placed it to the side, only a few feet away from the grave. He wore an expression neither of them have ever seen on him before. Fear? Heartache? Pain.

“We’re here.” He said again. His voice completely devoid of energy. His body was stiff as he walked to the side of the grave, with his hands curled into tight fists and placed at his sides. There was another redstone torch placed in front of the grave to the right, but Aiden didn’t say anything. Olivia took a few small steps forward and gave him a small nod.

As she knelt down in front of the grave--in front of her grave--she heard Aiden tell Jess ‘Come on’, followed by the sound of footsteps growing distant.

She sat alone at her grave.

She didn’t want to read the text. She really didn’t. Isn’t that funny? That was one of the main reasons she wanted to come here. To see if there was a chance she could read about her death, what happened to her, but now that she was here, she was terrified. She looked everywhere else but the epitaph before her. She stared at the small bouquet of flowers on the dirt--the dirt… She noticed it seemed… Messier compared to the other graves. Like someone tried digging through it. The bouquet, though! There was a mix of flowers held together by a red ribbon. Clusters of tiny, magenta flowers, a few pointed, white flowers with many petals, and a type of flower she actually knew the name of: Lilys.

She then brought her gaze up, catching a quick glimpse of her name written in gold, to observe the gems placed into the tombstone. Two orange gems, one yellow, one gold, another maroon, and the gem in the center was amber. They formed an arch around the words in the center.

‘Stop avoiding it.’ She told herself, but she didn’t listen. She turned to Lukas’ grave. She had to see his. She had to. It was right here and--and he’s her friend.

His grave was turquoise and had thin, white stripes that stretched across the top, and seven gems instead of six. Three on each side, and the last gem placed above his epitaph. He was given flowers as well.

The words engraved in the stone read: “LUKAS: Courageous and loyal. An inspiring leader and a brilliant friend.”

Short but wonderful. It was perfect. Reading it over and over again, she thought about just how lucky she and Jess were with having their friend still around. He’s done so much for them. Constantly helping Jess run Beacon Town, aiding the citizens, always visiting her and Axel whenever he got the chance… He could’ve left them during that Witherstorm. He could’ve ditched them at any moment when things got too rough, but he never did.

‘I need to give Lukas a hug when I get back.’ Olivia thought to herself. Lukas could still leave them one day without warning. He could finally get sick of them, die in a brutal fight, or--or end up being kidnapped like this Lukas--Olivia squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, trying to get those awful thoughts out. Don’t think about that. He’s still alive. He still cares about them. He loves them.

Olivia kept her eyes closed for a moment longer before finally bringing her attention back to her own grave. She forced herself to read the words written for her; “OLIVIA: An intelligent, creative, and hardworking engineer. A bright spark of joy even during the darkest of days.”

Olivia stared at her words. A weird sense of reassurance was arising. She’s never thought highly of herself. She’d sometimes convince herself that others couldn’t tolerate her, and that she was one mistake away from ruining everything. She wondered if this Olivia ever felt a similar way. Was she constantly trying to make sure she said and did the right things? Try to fix any issue immediately so her friends didn’t think she was useless? Always second guessing her own thoughts?

Did this Olivia know her friends always loved her? Or was she riddled with fears and doubts until her sudden end?

‘She died a couple of years ago, didn’t she?’ Olivia tried to recall any mention of her death from Aiden. She wasn’t certain, but whether it was a few years ago, or a few months ago, didn’t change the fact that she died so soon.

She was young.

Younger than her.

To have her life end on an abrupt note… It scared her. It scared her so much. Everything could be taken away one day.

As she sat over her body, she felt her fingers begin to dig into the dirt, like they were trying to reach in and find the other Olivia’s hand. A sick form of curiosity made her want to know more. More about this Olivia. Her life. Her mind. To have a connection with her. It was her body she was sitting over, afterall. Her corpse. Her--

“Olivia?” Jess placed his hand on her shoulder. “Are you doing okay?”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Come on.” Aiden gave Jess a light tap with his hand. He started walking away from Olivia. Jess hesitated. He looked at his friend for a second more before leaving with Aiden.

“We just needa give her some space.” Aiden said.

“Right, totally understand.” Jess wanted to stick around for a few minutes longer to study his friends’ graves, but that could wait. He didn’t want to make Olivia feel like he was breathing down her neck.

Jess thought back to the many instances where his friends’ lives were in danger, when they were so close to being taken away from him. He hated seeing his friends’ lives at stake more than anything; he’d go through Hell and back to protect them, and to be in a place where their deaths became a reality was so hard to wrap his head around.

Lukas left without a trace. No familiar faces to comfort him during his last moments, only enemies looming over him while he was in an unknown place. Just thinking about his fate made Jess worry sick about his Lukas back at home.

It was silent for a few minutes. Only their footsteps filled the void.

“So…” Jess started, wanting to make small talk, “What do the colors for Olivia and Lukas’ graves mean?”

“Olivia’s creativity.” Aiden replied, sounding short. “And Lukas’--” He paused and scanned the cemetery. He took a left turn and continued walking between the graves. “He’s…Don’t make fun of us, but his color stands for friendship.”

“Friendship?” Jess perked up at the word.

“I know, it’s probably super cheesy or whatever, but it fits him. It really does.” Aiden said.

“No, no, I completely agree! He’s a great friend--one of the best! If I had to recount all the times he’s been there for me, we’d be here all day.”

“Right. Same here.” They stopped at another grave with another redstone torch in front of it. This grave was short and purple, with many cool-colored gems placed in it. Jess didn’t recognize the name.

Aiden grabbed the torch and blew out the flame. Jess decided to ask another question.

“Any idea why The Awakening puts those torches there?”

“Probably for no good reason.” Aiden answered through gritted teeth as he chucked the wood as hard as he could across the cemetery.

There was something unnerving about the torches left at the grave. Their red glow would take over the colors of the graves, and their light under a thick, cloudy sky would claim your attention and make it hard to pull away. Their soft crackling would fill in the silence whenever he and Aiden didn’t talk; the occasional loud snaps from the flames would make Jess believe there was a threat following them.

Jess stopped at a tombstone and picked up a vase of flowers that had fallen aside. “The gems on their graves, what do they mean? Do you remember ‘em?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’d remember what the gems on my own friends’ graves would mean!” Aiden snapped.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that!” Jess held the vase tighter. “I was just--I wanted to know more about them.” Great. Now they’re both feeling terrible.

Aiden’s demeanor softened when he saw Jess’ reaction. “No, it’s okay. I’m sorry. I’ve been--” He hesitated, “I’ve just been thinking about someone is all.”

“No, it’s no problem.” Jess carefully placed the small vase back upright. He folded his arms and joined Aiden’s side.

“I’m uh, still interested to hear bout those gems if you’re wanting to share.” He said.

“Yeah. I can do that for ya.” Aiden answered.

“For Lukas,” Aiden began, walking through the grass. “Gill chose blue. I remember that one’s loyalty. Gold for compassion. White for safety--he’d always double check our belongings every time to make sure we were prepared.”

Aiden stopped and grabbed a torch, “It was kinda annoying, but I miss it now.” He blew it out and threw the wood.

They kept moving.

“Rose picked pink.” Aiden started running his fingers over the grave tops, “She was real embarrassed when she chose it. Kept refusing to show us cause she thought we’d laugh at her.”

“I’m guessing pink’s for love?” Jess said, trying to make sure he wouldn’t trample any flowers.

“Yeah, and--” Aiden chuckled, “Rose wanted his description to be: Pretty blond dork with a decent sense of style. All of us were actually on board with it.”

“Did you end up pulling through with it?” Jess asked.

“Nah, the guys making the grave wouldn’t allow it.” Aiden spotted a couple of gravestones with torches by them. They were already burnt out. He grabbed two of the torches while Jess grabbed the last.

“What a bunch of killjoys.” Jess joked. Aiden laughed as he prepared to throw the burnt wood. Jess mimicked each step of Aiden’s. Hold, aim, then throw. Once they lost sight of the rubbish, they followed the dirt path to the entrance of the cemetery.

The cemetery wasn’t boxed in by hedges like the park, instead, it had a stone wall.

Aiden leaned against the wall. It didn’t look like the most comfortable surface--the rocks were jagged and would probably fall apart in moments--but he seemed unaffected by it. Jess stood nearby and took a peek through the gate beside them. Unlike the rough, uneven walls, the black fence was tall, sturdy, and had a huge, elegantly curved arch.

“Olivia’s got a few similar gems,” Aiden started, putting his hands in his pocket, “Two golds, yellow… She’s got amber--Man, I always mix those three up. They sound different enough but when they’re placed by each other, they all look the same. Amber’s slightly darker than yellow, but not as dark as gold. Amber’s positivity.”

“Lotta happy ones for her.” Jess commented. He’d been staring at the decorated buildings through the gate’s bars as he listened. He could spot bits of pots filled with flowers on the other side of the wall, their colors as eye-catching as the cemetery.

“Always made us happy.” Aiden said with a shrug. “She also had… Ah…” He pressed his lips together, “Orange! She had that one too. And then there’s…” He had to stop to think again.

“It’s not… Well, it looks like red, but it’s darker… Ah, shoot.” Aiden cursed to himself.

“Carmine? Maroon?” Jess tilted his head.

Aiden snapped his fingers, “Maroon! Right! Creativity; same thing as her grave. Picked it myself.” He said rather proudly.

“You guys really cared about her.” Jess mumbled. He tilted his head towards Aiden, “And I’m sure Olivia loved you guys all the same.”

Aiden stared back at him.

A small smile spread across his face, “Thanks.”

The two became quiet and looked over the array of colorful graves before them. The clouds slowly began to part; gems glistened as the rays of sun shone down on them.

“Should we check on Olivia now?” Jess asked after a few minutes of silence.

Aiden got off the stone wall and stretched his back, “Yeah, let’s go.”

~ ~ ~ ~

When the two returned to Olivia, the last thing they wanted to see was to see her in distress. The tips of her fingers were shoved into the dirt below, her eyes were stuck on the golden words in front of her, her mouth was parted--barely moving--with no voice to match. Jess couldn’t tell if she was trembling or not, but she was scared. Very scared.

Jess bit his lip and approached his friend. Aiden was right behind.

“Olivia?” Jess placed his hand on her shoulder, “Are you doing okay?”

Olivia jumped and jerked her hands out of the dirt.

“Yes--! Yeah, no, no don’t worry, I’m fine. Thanks--thank you for checking on me.” She replied frantically. She took deep breaths.

Before Jess could question anything, Olivia spoke up.

“Aiden, this uh--the substance mixed into the stone,” Her fingers trailed down the tombstone, “is it redstone dust?”

Her voice was shaky.

Aiden glanced at Jess, who was equally nervous as him, then said, “Actually, it is.”

He took a step closer to Olivia, “They don’t usually allow people to mix stuff like redstone or glowstone dust with the colors--especially cause they’re hard to find--but they made an exception for us.”

Olivia nodded along, blinking back tears.

Jess read her epitaph, “Guess all Olivia’s are just the greatest engineers out there, huh?”

“Damn right. She didn’t have a bunch of dust to work with, but she’d still crank out machine after machine like no tomorrow.” Aiden said, “Man, I remember every year for her birthday that’d be all she’d ever ask for. Not weapons, not new journals, not even a dang cake, just redstone dust. Course, the only places you could find ‘em were in caves or old shrines, right?” He asked while facing Lukas’ grave and grabbing the lit redstone torch below.

“Yup, we found a bunch of it yesterday.” Jess said, sitting besides Olivia.

“Right, and since it was so dangerous, she told us to not worry bout gettin’ it because ‘It’d be stupid to risk your life for some red powder’.” Aiden gestured with the torch, the flame getting frighteningly close to his hair.

“Well, I’d always lose track of dates and forget to get her a gift, so one of the other guys would back me up and tell Olivia we bought a gift ‘together’, and I felt so bad.” He thankfully blew out the fire after saying that.

“So then guess what I did one day?” Aiden said.

“Walked out and found a bag of redstone on the ground?” Jess asked sarcastically.

Aiden laughed, “I wish.”

Aiden began pacing, the trail of smoke whirling around him, “But I decided I’d bust into one of those dumb shrine and find some dust for her, and I didn’t tell anyone bout it besides Jesse. He was on board with the plan, he was great at findin’ stuff, plus two people finding dust was much easier than one.” Aiden fiddled with the burnt wood, “We headed off to the nearest shrine and actually found enough dust to fill up a bag and a half, but cause of the state of that dump, some rooms would collapse after you opened the door!”

“You two ended up getting hurt, didn’t you?” Olivia had her hand on her head, already concerned over the direction of this story.

“Course we did!” Aiden threw his arms up. “I swear anytime the two of us were together, things would fall apart or we’d break a bone--” Aiden stopped his talking to quickly chuck the wood away. “Anyways, anyways, we got back home right on time for Olivia’s birthday and man did we look awful. Clothes were all dirty, got some real bad scrapes on my knees, Jesse grabbed so much dust it looked like his fingers were covered in blood, and I somehow got a black eye? I think the top of a chest smacked me...”

Olivia rubbed her temples, “You two really shouldn’t have risked your lives over a birthday present--”

“That’s exactly what she said!” Aiden exclaimed, “Went through all that trouble, and you know how she reacted?”

“Panicked?” Olivia asked.

“Bet she loved it.” Jess said, giving Olivia a nudge.

“She did--but Hero did she freak out! Dropped her cake and rushed over to get us cleaned up. Olivia was wrapping up one of Jesse’s arms--” Aiden thought to himself for a second, “--I think a big rock landed on it? But she was going off on us. Raising her voice and lecturing us like she was our mom, telling us it’s a miracle we were still in one piece, and why in Hero’s name we did something so stupid.”

“I mean, it wasn’t stupid if things worked out for you.” Jess pointed out.

“Yeah, but still.” Aiden chuckled, “It was stupid. It was so, so stupid. But after that, she loved our present. I’d never seen her smile so much. She was working on her machinery, telling me and Jesse how everything worked while we pretended to understand.”

Aiden carefully leaned on Olivia’s grave, “Hero knows I didn’t understand a single thing she was sayin’, but seeing her so happy…” His smile grew as his voice softened, “It was great.”

“That’s all so sweet…” Olivia spoke softly. “I love it.”

She was shaking again.

Jess turned to his friend to mention something, but stopped when he saw Olivia staring at the ground, fingers picking at the dirt just like she was when they came back. That same, terrified expression on her face.

“Liv--?” Jess mumbled, but Olivia started rambling nonsense.

“I don’t know if my words mean much to you--I know I’m not her--but you’re a good friend, Aiden.” Her nails started to dig into the ground, “All of this, all that you’ve done for Olivia--you--you--Even when I just--” She kept stumbling over her words, “Even when she died one day you kept being so kind to me--”

The more she kept talking, the more concerned--the more scared--Aiden and Jess became.

“Hey, hey are you alright?” Jess reached out to hold her, but Olivia shot her head back up.

“I’m under here.” She whispered. Her voice was so unsteady.

Jess was taken aback, “What?”

“I’m under here.” She said again. “I’m so close.”

Her hand began to claw at the dirt, “I’m so close. My body’s all mangled up in that box below, and--and my hair’s so long now.” She felt sick talking about this, she felt sick thinking about it. “It’d be so easy to just dig myself up. For Aiden to see her again. Jesse--Jess, we’re so close. I could look at myself. Look at my body. I’m--”

“Olivia!” Jess shook her, “Do you want to get out of here?”

Aiden wanted to offer his support, but Olivia instantly got on her feet.

“Yes. Yes I want to leave. I want to go home.” She kept repeating that last sentence while she hugged herself, breathing heavily. She was freezing.

“Right, we need to head back anyways.” Aiden’s stomach was in knots seeing Olivia like this. His hands turned to fists, “I should’ve known better. I shouldn’t have taken you here. I’m sorry--”

“Don’t.” Olivia cut in. “I wanted to go. You took me. I saw--I saw what I needed to. I appreciate it. Thank you.” She was stiff as a board.

Olivia took one last deep breath, “Let’s go home.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Damn them.

Damn them all.

Locked every damn door and window in this house. They’re hiding her, he knows they’re hiding her.

Did they really think locking themselves in would stop him? He used to live in this Hero forsaken house; he knows every nail, screw, and plank that makes up this despicable place.

He still remembers that trapdoor on the roof. He knows how to claw his way up there. He’ll pry it open with his own bare hands.

He’ll find her.

He will.

#mcsm #minecraft story mode #mcsm aiden #mcsm jesse #mcsm olivia #THANK U ENORMOUS THIC THANK U TO FRIEND IVY!!!#for reading this over and helping...... appreciate it all VERY much....#HOPE YOU ENJOY!!!#will add more tags in later!!!!! in rush right now dhfgnfdgfngd

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dilfgordonfreeman · 4 years ago

Photo

Fanart for @crackhead-moss-man‘s Reverse Mermaid AU! I’ve been in love with their fic “The Ocean Isn’t So Scary” on Archive of our Own, and it’s so lovely! So when they mentioned doing a reverse on that, I went “heck yeah.” DragonMoray!Gordon and RibbonEel!Joshua. Art and Design by ArchaicNightfall.

#hlvrai #half life but the ai is self aware #gordos freeman #joshua freeman #mermaid #reverse mermaid au #gordon hlvrai #joshua hlvrai #arc's art

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kingsuckjin · 5 years ago

Text

The Enigma of Bunny | Pt.4

Pairing: Jungkook, Taehyung, Yoongi, Jin x reader ft. Namjoon and Hobi

Genre: angst, fluff, mystery (later: horror) smut (soon) yandere

Warnings: (I’m so sorry Tae stans) hints and talk of noncon/dubcon, hints of sex, self hatred.

Synopsis: You find a very sick young man in an alley and out of the bottomless barrel of kindness that is your heart, you decide take him home. Only then do you realize this stranger doesn’t speak, but that’s not the only strange thing about him by far. Who is he? Where did he come from? What happened to him? And why can’t he remember anything or even speak?

Words: 3.6k+

Tag list: If you want to be added to the tag list just let me know @rikkafunthepureone @illnevertrustmyselfagain @sam-moss @minyoongi-infiresme @appreciatethefoolishness @sugajinny @loserjeonjk @savanna-1 @bulletproof-points

prev // next

——

“I need you to come in NOW. We need to talk about your obvious slacking.”

That message from your boss terrified you. It was true you were slacking at getting work done but you were busy helping Jungkook. Of course your dictator boss, Kim Taehyung, wouldn’t understand that, he only cared about himself, his company, and which Gucci suit he would wear that day. You were surprised he was letting you work from home at all but you did work more diligently at home and more hours of course and that made him money.

You had no idea what to do with Jungkook as you threw on your office best, a pencil skirt, heels and a nice dress shirt.

You dialed Yoongi’s number as you got dressed and you thanked god as he answered but he sounded tired. you spewed apologies and explained that you needed his help again asking him to come over and watch Jungkook for you. You knew if you had to leave him it would have to be here at the house with someone he liked and that’s what you told him.

Jungkook looked at your attire and his eyes followed you across the room as you walked over to him and sat down next to him.

“Jungkook, I have to leave for a bit but-”

“Leave?!” He interrupted suddenly panicked.

“Yes, but not too long. Yoongi will be here with you.”

“I don’t come?” He asked.

“I’m sorry, you can’t.”

“Why?” It was his newest favorite word that you had heard countless times over the past few days.

“Because I have to go to work today.”

“Work? Why?”

“My boss probably wants to yell at me”

“Yell?! Yell at noona?! No! Did noona do bad?” He was now also concerned along with flipping his shit over you needing to leave.

“Yeah, kind of.”

“No! No yell at noona!” You had noticed when he got upset his speech got worse.

“Its okay.” You laid your hand on his larger, warm one for reassurance and it seemed to do the trick in calming him a few notches. “It won’t be too bad. I’ll be back before you know it. Be brave for me and be good while I’m gone, okay? Don’t get upset. I’ll be back.”

He had a pained look on his face but he nodded apprehensively but in understanding just as there was a knock at the door.

You threw open the door and Yoongi blinked at you before glancing at what you were wearing.

“Shit.” You swear he said.

“What?” You weren’t sure why he had said that, but you were sure he had.

“I- uh- meant to bring snacks… for Jungkook.” He said suddenly not wanting to look directly at you, choosing to look past you to Jungkook instead.

“Oh its fine, we have plenty, he eats so much so I’ve stocked up.” You said as you let him in.

“I don’t know when I’ll be back but-”

“Its fine.” He shrugged.

“Jungkook. I’ll be back. Please be good. If you are we can get you more art supplies, alright.” You promised him a reward in hopes he would keep a level head at least for that.

“Okay Noona.” He agreed but didn’t seem exactly alright with it. You had no choice but to grab your bag and go.

Before you knew it you were sitting in a chair in your boss’ office just across his desk from him.

Kim Taehyung radiated power in his well fitted dress pants and crisp white dress shirt. Although you couldn’t see his shoes, you knew they were Gucci and probably cost more than your rent. He said nothing for a moment as he leaned back in his chair with his dark hair perfectly glossy and parted. A dark eyebrow lifted at you. You felt incredibly intimidated by his silence and something told you that that was what he wanted.

When he simply just said nothing you decided to try to explain yourself.

“I-I-I’m so sorry I’ve been taking care of someone lately and-”

“I don’t care.” His reply was simple but sharp.

“I’m sorry sir.”

“I still don’t care.” He tapped his fingers on the arm of his very fancy office chair.

“What I care about is progress, because progress is money, and money is happiness despite what people say. You haven’t been making progress this week. I’m going to be honest, normally you impress me with how much you get done especially at home, that’s why I let you work from home, although, I do miss your pretty face wondering around the office.”

You were stunned by his boldness, but you’d be lying to say you didn’t expect it from him.

“As I said though, money is happiness because there’s not a problem it can’t solve. Car broken down? Buy a new one. Loved one need taken care of? Pay someone to do it. Depressed? Pay for a top notch therapist. Need love? Buy it. Now, it seems like you have a problem of some kind preventing me from making more money, and I’m not happy if I’m not making money. I guess that means if you’re not happy then neither am I… so how much would it take to add on to your pay every week for you to make us both happy?” He leaned in to his desk, bringing himself menacingly closer.

“What?” You replied not expecting this meeting to go this way at all.

“Shall we talk it over during a very nice dinner at six tonight?”

“I- I-”

“Alright. Still live at the same address in your employee information you listed?”

“Y-yes?”

“Good. I’ll pick you up at five forty. You may go.”

“I- uhh- thank you sir.” You sputtered as you stood but he began fiddling with papers and ignoring you like you weren’t even in the room anymore.

You walked home stunned and wondering what the heck just happened.

“Noona!” Jungkook was happy to see you when you walked back into your apartment to see him watching tv with Yoongi.

“How was he?” You immediately asked.

“Fine, a little on edge and kept asking if you were coming back yet, almost had a meltdown, but it was fine. It’s good for him to be away from you sometimes. So, are you in trouble? He said you were going to het yelled at.”

“Uhh no actually? I… I got a raise I think.” You still weren’t even completely sure what had happened in there.

“For what?” Yoongi seemed just as baffled as you

“For slacking off? I’m not really sure. The meeting was strange. I have to discuss the raise with him tonight at dinner, apparently hes coming to get me at five forty tonight and I have no say so in it.”

“Huh.” Yoongi said “listen, he might be your boss but don’t let him make you do things you don’t want to or aren’t comfortable with.”

“I’m comfortable with going, it’s for more money so-”

“That’s… not what I mean.”

“What do you mean then?” You clearly didn’t get it.

“Go to dinner, it’s fine just… I don’t know… just don’t let him make you uncomfortable or anything. I just- I know how you are now that I know you and… never mind, you’re smart.”

You blinked at him wondering if he would elaborate further, but he didn’t.

“Okay.” You replied “so you’ll watch him tonight?”

“Of course I will. We’re working on his speaking, right Jungkook?” Yoongi looked him and Jungkook nodded.

“Thank you so much Yoongi.” You felt so grateful for all his help that you couldn’t stop yourself from throwing your arms around him and locking him a tight hug.

He seemed a little stunned but he did bring his hands up to finally hug you back for a moment before you released him.

“You’re welcome.” He muttered “just make sure he knows it’s not a date, you know… unless…”

“No, no. It’s not going to be a date.” You said quickly with a laugh at the thought of dating that power hungry buffoon.

“Alright well I’ll see you both later tonight then.” With that Yoongi left.

“Noona, okay? Jungkook asked the moment you had closed the door.

“Of course.” You answered before sitting down beside him and taking a peek at what he was drawing.

You were shocked to see it was you.

Every detail of your face was there on the paper but some how it looked so much better than you but you weren’t sure how.

Your mouth fell open and you looked at him.

He seemed kind of embarrassed as he tried to flip to a new page but you stopped him.

“That- that’s me!” You stated in awe.

“I- uh- I’m sorry.” He stuttered over his words as his face was going a bit red.

“No! Its amazing. Did you just draw my face from memory?” You were in utter awe but you were so flattered he would take the time to draw you and especially since he thought you looked like that

“Yes?”

“Its so good!” You smiled at him as you looked back down at the paper, scooting closer to him for a better look.

“You’re not…?” It seemed he couldn’t remember the word, but you did.

“I’m not upset, I’m delighted. You have so much talent. We have to get you more art supplies.” You reached up and patted his cheek tenderly.

“I- I missed you so… so I made you.” He explained looking like he was still hoping you weren’t mad and a little nervous.

“That’s sweet.” You grinned. You were glad he had found a way to cope with your absence in a creative way.

“You want? Not done… but you have?” He pointed to the page and offered it to you.

“You finish it first.” You urged and he nodded.

“So… so you leave again later?”

“Yes, I’m sorry, but Yoongi will be with you again if that’s alright. You like Yoongi, right?”

He nodded.

“But… not Jimin.”

You tilted your head at him. You had of course noticed this but you were now curious as to why.

“Why don’t you like Jimin?”

“Jimin is… he… looks…” he thought hard until let out a grunt of frustration at not being able to find the right words and you could tell this topic really bothered him.

“Hey, its okay.” You laid your hand on his arm as he brooded in frustration.

“Don’t like Jimin.” He muttered.

“That’s okay, I’m sure you have your reasons or you just don’t know him well enough yet. Either way, it’s okay.” You assured him before dropping it so he didn’t get anymore upset.

He relaxed as you made him some food and watched tv together for a while, he even laid his head on your shoulder for a while too and you let his soft deep colored hair tickle at your cheek as he did.

——

Your boss was right outside your apartment complex waiting for you at five forty on the dot.

Of course he drove a beautiful brand new sports car and of course he wore expensive looking clothes that were just a step more casual than his office attire. You wore a nice black dress that of course wasn’t Gucci.

The both of you didn’t really talk on the way there, you didn’t really know what to say to him anyway. The restaurant he took you to was as high class as you were expecting from him. It was all too much for your liking, but you were here for that raise not for the nice restaurant or your bosses company which was a good thing because he barely acknowledged your existence.

“So,” when he did finally speak he startled you with that deep, intimidating voice of his. Actually now that you thought about it, everything about him kind of reminded you of a super villain in real life form from his money to his posture to his presence.

He took a drink of wine and peered over the glass at you. “What would you do with a fifty percent raise?”

“I would…” as soon as you began to think about the hypothetical question, he spoke again.

“I was expecting you to be surprised and ecstatic, not tell me what you’d actually do with it.”

Of course.

Of course he actually meant it.

“Wait. You really plan on giving me a fifty percent raise? Why? I don’t deserve that- that’s- that’s a lot.” You were actually surprised.

“Depends.” He stared off towards the direction of the waiter.

“On?” you questioned.

“Would you like to keep me company for a few hours?” His question threw you off for a moment and confused you, you felt like he was speaking in riddles.

“But I just did, didn’t I?”

“Not this kind, sweetheart. Tell you what, you come with me to my house and we’ll see what comes of it and we’ll see whether you get your raise or not.” His smirk made you feel like the room had just gotten colder. It dissolved as he got the waitresses attention and asked for the check.

You got it.

Once it clicked in your brain, you were frozen.

You felt uncomfortable and Yoongi had told you not to let him make you uncomfortable, but what were you supposed to do?

Well, you could say no and leave.

“You could always say no.” He offered seeing you in shock. “But I wouldn’t if I were you.”

“Why?” You asked but you were afraid to know.

“Because you could be making more than any other person on the marketing team… maybe more than on anyone on any marketing team in the city. I could make you head of marketing, your job would require less work and you’d be getting paid so much you won’t know what to do with it. Or…” he stared you down now “you could not have a job. I could fire you right now for any reason I wanted, you could never work in marketing again once I put your name out there along with all of your inadequacies. Hope you didn’t go to school too long for it.”

You felt sick.

You knew he could do it. You knew he had the power to.

He was one of the highest earning men in the city and here he was threatening to ruin your career.

It made your skin crawl.

Did you need the money, no, but you did need a job and you had worked yourself to death at university to be what you are now. You had invested the last couple of years in Kim Taehyung’s company.

You swallowed down your nervousness and everything in your body telling you to just get out of there, that it didn’t matter… but it did matter.

“H- how many times?”

“Just once.” He said “but lets hope your fucking isn’t as terrible as your conversational skills.”

At least he wasn’t terrible looking, but the crawling feeling your gut paid that no mind anyway.

—–

You stopped right before your apartment door for a moment as you tried to compose yourself before unlocking it and going in as quietly as you could. You thought maybe you could just sneak into your own apartment.

You were surprised to see Jungkook still awake with Yoongi though.

“Hey guys. Thanks for keeping him company, Yoongi.” You tried to get out before Jungkook jumped up to hug you and squeeze you to death.

You hoped that he wouldn’t say anything about how late it was.

“He wouldn’t go to sleep until you-” Yoongi was cut off by Jungkook poking your neck and examining it. You clapped your hand over it and Yoongi’s eyes narrowed

“Can we talk?” Yoongi’s friendly tone had completely changed.

“Um… uh… no. I’m pretty tired.” You lied.

“Is there something else wrong?” You already knew he knew, he probably did upon you walking in so late.

“Umm…” You didn’t know what to say, you were just standing there holding everything in. Right now, you just needed him out, you needed his judging eyes off of you.

Yoongi suddenly took you by the arm and told Jungkook to stay in here while he dragged you off into the kitchen.

“Are you alright?” Was the first thing he asked.

“I- uh, yeah.” You did your best to sound casual.

“Why did you do it?” Was his next question.

“Do what?”

“I see the mark on your neck, I know, okay? I told you not to let him make you feel-”

“It’s fine, it’s fine okay?!” You were beginning to feel irritated because talking about it only made your skin crawl more.

“It’s not.” He crossed his arms and stayed calm with you.

“I don’t want to talk about it!” Your reply was quick.

“Which is a huge red flag! What did he threaten you with? I know you’re not like that.”

“You don’t! You don’t know what I’m actually like okay?!” You whisper yelled at him but he just rolled his feline like eyes.

“You can’t be serious. I know you wouldn’t fuck your boss! It’s obvious you wouldn’t! You always want to do the right thing and-”

“Shut up Yoongi! You still don’t know me and I said I didn’t want to talk about it! Just leave, okay?!” How many times did you have to tell him? You just didn’t want to talk about it and you wanted him to leave it at that.

“Whatever.” He replied and stormed off out of the kitchen.

You reentered the lounge just in time to see him whispering something to Jungkook and he gave Yoongi a nod in return.

“I said leave, Yoongi.” You stood firm and he did as you asked this time.

“Noona?” Jungkook said after Yoongi slammed the door behind him and you locked it.

“I’m going to have a shower.” You said angrily, you couldn’t take any more questions or judgement. Would Jungkook judge you though? Could he?

You scrubbed your skin red and raw attempting to get the scent of your boss’s expensive cologne off your skin, but it was burned into your brain, you couldn’t stop smelling it and it disgusted you further.

It wasn’t that he was bad in bed or even cruel or anything like that, you just hated yourself for sleeping with your boss when you didn’t want to, you hated that he had made you do it, that you had felt so pressured to give your body to him. Now your body didn’t feel like your own.

You wordlessly headed to bed and the moment you laid down you had to work harder to fight off the tears.

You continued to fight it more and more but you just couldn’t sleep.

And then you couldn’t fight the tears or disgust with yourself any more and began sobbing into your pillow.

“Noona?” There were soft knocks at your bedroom door.

“Noona okay?”

“I’m fine Bunny.” You called back just to get him to stop worrying, but you clearly weren’t fine and it was obvious in your voice and there was no hiding it.

Your door squeaked open.

“Not fine.” Jungkook whispered as you sniffled and tried to get yourself to stop crying. “Yoongi said noona not fine, take care of noona.”

“I’m fine, Jungkook.” You sniffled again as tears continued to flow down your eyes relentlessly.

“How do I take care noona? Noona take care of Bunny and… I don’t know how to care noona.” His brows knitted together and you read the desperation and sympathy on his face.

You began to cry again and felt the side of your bed sink in.

“Jungkook, just-”

He was lifting you up to just look at you. He seemed confused like he had never seen a person cry before, surely he had in his dramas, right? Or maybe he was just lost as to what to do for you.

His eyes followed a tear rolling down your cheek and he lifed a sleeved hand and wiped at your wet face.

“Cry. Sad? Why is noona sad? Work yell?”

That’s it, he didn’t understand why you were sad, and you weren’t about to tell the poor sweet soul.

“No, no.” You shook your head.

“Then why?”

His voice was quiet and as smooth as always like a melody, only this time it held a tinge of sadness.

“I- I can’t really explain.”

“That’s okay, it’s alright.” He told you what you remembered telling him a few times before, he was reassuring you.

“I know, Bunny.” You sniffled once more.

“I don’t like noona sad. It… it…” he put a hand on his heart and squeezed it into a fist in a swift and powerful motion. You realized what he was trying to tell you.

Heart crushing.

He thought it was heart crushing that you were sad.

You looked into his big, pretty brown eyes and you began to cry again and you didn’t know why. Just looking at him made the sadness, the guilt even heavier.

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you to his chest, he laid back taking you with him until you were laying directly on top of him, head on his chest with his arms wrapped around you. You willingly cried on him. It was an intimate position, it probably would’ve given you a heart attack had he done this at any other time, but you didn’t concentrate on that right now. It didn’t feel strange or foreign at all to you, it felt warm and comforting and safe. You thought about how it was the exact opposite with you boss not long ago. Jungkook helped to take the feelings away, to cancel them out with his warm breath on the top of your head and arms holding you.

“It’s okay, it’s okay noona. No more sad. It’s okay.” He whispered quietly to you. “Noona is good person, noona is kind, noona cares. It’s okay.”

Your brain flip-flopped at his reassurances, Maybe he did know.

He just kept whispering kind things to you, anything and everything he could say until your sobs quieted.

566 notes · View notes

coexistxcoldrain · 4 years ago

Text

The Moon in Old Times

Title: The Moon in Old Times (AO3 Link, please visit! :) ) Author: yaoionshavedice / hes-only-tiny Rating: Explicit Warnings: Well, smut ...; mentioning of suicide Ship: Masato/Hiroki (MasaHiro) Words: ~10.000 Summary: An onsen in the middle of nowhere, weird dreams of long forgotten times and oddly familiar memorial sites. Masato couldn't pinpoint the moment he thought he'd lost it. Maybe it had nothing to do with himself and everything to do with the appearance of this little brat from Tokyo who might or might not be shamelessly flirting with him. Notes: Not a native speaker! Please do give constructive criticism, I appreciate it! Also: kind of weird topic, I know. I’m also not an expert on all things Edo, unfortunately. So I hope you don’t mind tiny errors or anything that doesn’t make so much sense after all. Have fun :)

The Moon in Old Times

It had been hard – but not impossible – to find a nice traditional onsen that allowed tattoos. Obviously, that aspect had to have been one of my first concerns. I still had a spacious room with a private onsen here; however, I did enjoy using the public one first thing in the morning. When it was still freezing and dark outside. And considering how atmospheric the illuminated landscape melted into the steam rising up from the water … it was honestly a soul-healing experience. Cleansing, almost. I needed that, at least once a year.

It was on the dot 6am, maybe five minutes later. I had difficulties getting up early when on tour or during stressful weeks in general, but no such feelings when I was on vacation. I lay there, completely absorbed in my thoughts and the tingling sensation of the contrast between hot water and cool morning air; I’d almost missed the hesitant footsteps of someone with the same intentions I’d had.

When he entered the water, however, I realised I’d been lost in thought. I didn’t look. It just meant that my alone-time had already drawn to a close. You really shouldn’t stare when someone was about to enter the onsen, anyway.

A few minutes passed in silence as I concentrated further on the hazy, blurred surroundings and the pleasant feeling; but then the guy a couple of metres next to me raised his high voice with a clearing of his throat.

“Masato? Is that you?”

I couldn’t quite recall the voice though, so I turned my head in fear of seeing a full-on stranger sitting next to me; a fan. That was honestly the last thing I would have wanted right this second. I probably would have needed to change the ryokan, too. But no, sitting next to me, even if still awfully unexpected, was Moriuchi Hiroki; frontman of MY FIRST STORY and brother of one of my best friends.

That was … a coincidence.

“Oh, hey!” I spat out somewhat perplexed, seeing that I not exactly knew what else to say. Even though sitting naked inside an onsen with strangers and friends was part of the Japanese heritage – something as normal as it could get – here right now it remained kind of awkward. We were still the only ones here this morning and I knew him, but I didn’t really know him. Their band belonged to a different kind of generation of rock bands here in Japan. We briefly met on festivals, if we were lucky, but most of the time not even that. He wasn’t on very good terms with his brother, last time I checked, and Taka and I were good friends. That was it.

“That’s so funny that you’re here, too!” He grinned, or as far as I could make that out through the foggy night air. “Just on vacation?”

“Yeah,” I answered, still slightly taken aback by this new situation, “a few days. Just trying to relax a bit.”

“Me too,” Hiroki mused and nodded gently as if he had something on his mind but I didn’t say. I had actually just planned on remaining as silent as I could possibly manage during this holiday. Protect and heal my voice and just sweat out all this pent-up tension from all this unnecessary social interaction. I shook my head inwardly.

“So … I heard you just released a new album?” I asked only in order to have anything to say. It was release season after all, I thought I might have heard something along those lines, but honestly I just tried a shot in the dark. Next to me, however, he began nodding his head slowly.

“Been quite the year. I also needed a break.”

“I see …”

After that we fell kind of silent, though I talked myself into believing that it was because we enjoyed the relaxing warmth and silence, not because we were awkward as fuck. A few other men had joined us after a while, mostly elderly who honestly wouldn’t recognise any of us anyway. As it was time to go up again to get ready for the day, we briefly said our short goodbyes and I was sure I could feel his stares in my back when I left. But maybe I was just being paranoid.

***

I had started my day off slowly but breakfast went by pretty fast. And as I was launching in my room, clothed in a yukata, I noticed a curious pattern on the furniture and the wall cupboards. They weren’t just made out of smooth brown wood, as it was common for the interior of these old inns. There were delicate little flowers carved inside most of the surfaces. Nothing special to the fleeting eye of course, this ryokan was just a tad fancier than others, it would seem. Those, however, were lotus flowers. Significant in Buddhism and a lot of Asian countries in general. I wouldn’t have thought twice about it, were they not spread throughout the whole room. I just wondered if there was a deeper meaning than just ‘it looks fancy’ to this. But I’d also seen a few here and there in the lobby and dining room.

I shrugged, and having finished my green tea, I lazily got up. I wasn’t in the mood to read and there was still so much time left until lunch, so I decided to take a quick stroll through the little village.

Breathing in the fresh air of the still early day, I walked alongside the river. A small amount of rosy plum petals drifted with the stream downwards. It was a nice enough day, a bit cloudy and the cold wind cutting. There were few tourists in the streets, less than I’d expected, albeit it being such a picturesque little onsen village. Right out of picture-book-Edo. Lots of tiny shops, bathhouses and restaurants on each side of the river.

Lost in thought, I let my fingers trace the wooden handrail in the middle of the street that separated the sidewalk and the river. It made me realise how badly I’d needed this time off. No phone. No appointments. No one other than me and my thoughts.

And yet … here I was thinking about the brief encounter between Moriuchi Hiroki and me this morning. What a God damn coincidence. Something out of a screenplay, right? How was it possible that two people in the same business who knew each other ended up at the same place and at the same time? Ryo would probably laugh about this; endlessly amused. He was the one who actually kind of got along with Hiroki and his band, no matter the age gap. I knew that the guy looked up to us as musicians. Maybe even as much as he looked up to his brother and his band. We were almost on the same level after all. We’d both did Budokan. We’d both toured the world. We were friends. If Hiroki were to strive to be like someone, I wouldn’t be surprised if it would be us.

I’d been so absorbed by my thoughts that I hadn’t noticed the little shrine at the end of the path that had slowly but steadily come into sight. It was a cosy, little thing. Overgrown with soft looking green moss here and there. It basically completed the picture of this fascinating Edo-looking village.

I bowed subtly before I entered through the torii on the left hand side. I hadn’t expected to visit a shrine on this trip; I wasn’t even particularly religious or fond of traditions. Sure, I did visit the local shrine on New Year’s day. But that was about it. Something inside of me, however small, told me to stay. I suddenly felt a warm feeling of understanding and calmness reach my chest. I just laid the blame on the fact that I’d felt so relaxed coming here in the first place. That feeling had to have come from that, right?

There weren’t even any tourists or local people on the shrine grounds. And even though I wondered why that was, I decided that I liked this situation a lot better than otherwise and opted to ignore it. Coming from a big city, it was so rare to see anything like that.

I went through the motions of washing my hands and mouth at the little well, cleanse my body with the incense and then went to pray. Something you internalised as a Japanese person. Even though I hadn’t known what to pray for beforehand, all of a sudden I knew exactly what to ask.

When I turned around, I noticed a statue made out of stone in front of a small pond. Even though not very delicately sculptured, you could make out the silhouette of what appeared to be a couple in each other’s arms. Nowhere were foxes or komainu to be seen. That was odd.

“I take it you are not from here?”

I was taken wholly by surprise that when I turned around, an old man was standing right next to me. I laughed, feeling caught, and shook my head. When the heck had he appeared out of nowhere?

“No, I’m not from here.”

“You are wondering about the memorial, do you not?”

I took a closer look at the guy. He was clad in everyday clothes and his thinned out white hair reached the tip of his ears. He glanced piercingly in my direction with his bushy eyebrows raised. One of these stares that you couldn’t resist answering, though he honestly didn’t come across unfriendly. So I nodded.

“It is said to be Kozaemon and his courtesan Tsuka. They committed love suicide a long time ago.”

I side-eyed the old man and watched him fold his hands behind his back. I of course knew a little about all this; about life back then, about the ranks and samurai and yūjo. About Bunraku and Kabuki and the usage of popular real-life occurrences that had found their way into premodern art forms. Double-suicide being one of the most popular among those. The most romantic. I’d just never seen a memorial like this before. Didn’t know there were any.

“It is, however, also said that an error occurred while passing on information and Tsuka was actually Tsukichi. That is all I know. A beautiful statue, is it not?”

I nodded slowly and gave an awkward sound of understanding and gratitude. The old man took it, nodded himself and calmly shuffled away. If that was the truth, no wonder modern Japan decided to conceal it. Love-suicides used to be common and relationships between men no secret. Though I’d never heard of an instance of a homosexual double-suicide before this.

***

Since I wasn’t in the mood to actually sit down and eat at the ryokan, I decided to drop by some small diner and eat out instead. Though when I returned to the lobby, I saw Hiroki sitting in the far corner of the room, reading a magazine. He hadn’t noticed me yet and for one short moment I thought about ignoring him and just returning to my room. But as I examined him there reading alone, I felt like this was a way too coincidental situation to let it pass by. To be nice, even if I didn’t feel like it.

“Hey, what are you up to?”

Hiroki lifted his gaze and instantly cleared up the moment he saw me; a subtle smile playing on his lips. I told myself that it was just because he’d been feeling kind of dull and hadn’t expected to see me again so soon.

“I’ve just been reading,” he swiftly showed me the magazine in a fleeting motion, something about music … or art … or fashion. I couldn’t really tell before he again put his hands on the cover. “You look positively relaxed, though!”

“I’ve been walking around the neighbourhood and picked up some food. I guess I’m fine.”

I nodded gradually to back up my statement as if Hiroki needed to be reassured that I was telling the truth. As I realised how stupid that was, I stopped. Shifted from one foot to the other. I wasn’t nervous. It was just awkward …

Just as I was about to take my leave, because him casually sitting in front of me throughout our conversation mildly irked me, he stood up. I was a fair bit taller than he was but Hiroki didn’t seem as though he was bothered by it in any way. His bright smile caught me somewhat off-guard.

“I bought this expensive sake yesterday that I actually wanted to bring home. But if you’re free tonight, I could bring some over,” he suddenly explained with a straight face. He looked as if he’d only just had this sudden revelation, though something told me that he’d kind of planned on doing just that. I honestly wasn’t really fond at the prospect of him robbing me of my night time ritual – if you could call it that – but he seemed so excited that I couldn’t bring myself to say no. So I reluctantly agreed.

And finally at night, there we were, sitting at this round coffee table on the tatami floor, in our yukata and drinking sake; probably looking like a curious wall painting from the Edo period. This was the theme throughout after all. Our hair styles didn’t quite fit in, though.

I watched as he sat there, one half of his yukata very nearly sliding off his shoulder. Soft looking, tanned skin peeking out from underneath it. The grey of the garment looked honestly good on him, I had to admit.

“You’d make one hell of an entertainer. That yukata suits you,” I heard myself blurting out without properly thinking it through first. The alcohol had already sunken deep into my bloodstream and had tinged my cheeks a hot pink. Or at least that was what it felt like. Totally forgetting that, in a sense, he already was an entertainer.

In front of me, Hiroki chuckled and again nipped on his drink. He had this habit of covering his mouth with the back of his hand when he laughed. It made him seem soft somehow. He also seemed to be at least as intoxicated as I felt, though probably quite a bit more, to be frank. Right this moment I was just relieved that he wasn’t weirded out by my admittedly kind of creepy comment. His brown hair was tugged behind his ears, revealing his slightly puffy and likewise reddish cheeks. The tip of his nose sheen healthy in the warm toned light. I could not seem to turn away from those two delicate moles straight underneath his right eye. There was just something about him that I couldn’t explain.

“Did you just call me a prostitute?”

Wha–? I knew he didn’t mean it, he was joking; bantering. There was still this drunken challenging smile on his lips, but his fidgety hands on the table told a different story. I hadn’t intended to make him uncomfortable. But now that he said it, it could indeed have been perceived like that …

“No,” I tried to reconcile, albeit probably sounding desperate. Here was to hoping that he wouldn’t realise in his current state. “But did you know that prostitutes did in fact enjoy quite a high rank back in the day? The good ones, that is …”

Again, he chuckled. “Every child knows that … But you did call me ‘one hell of a,’ right?”

“Okay, this is getting weird, I’m sorry,” I laughed nasally because I was trying to hide half of my face somewhere behind my upper arm. Taking another sip. Feeling the stinging liquid run desperately hot down my throat. This wasn’t how I’d imagined this going. We weren’t even that close. Why couldn’t we, for the love of the Gods, keep up a normal conversation like actual adults?

“I’m just messing with you, you know?” Something in his brown eyes glistened when he looked at me. Maybe it was just the light reflected in them, or maybe he just really enjoyed being a tedious little brat. “Didn’t think it’d be so easy with you.”

I clicked my tongue, shook my head and downed the rest of the liquid from my glass. Should have known, really. He wasn’t annoying, however, for some reason I felt myself liking the way our interaction went. It was a fine line between annoyance and pleasure, though.

“I think you had one too much to drink,” I lectured him with a raised eyebrow; not looking at him. I took the result of my earlier statement as proof that I should probably refrain from handing out compliments like White Day chocolate. He did look good, but this time I held back my opinion; swallowed it down again. No idea why I’d had this thought in the first place.

Hiroki, however, only smiled at me with an odd expression as he picked up the bottle of sake again and poured us another two; almost triumphantly, not saying a word. I sighed.

“Hiroki … I honestly don’t want to fade away in the onsen tomorrow morning with a hangover …” It was a white lie, I wouldn’t be hungover tomorrow. I just genuinely thought that we’d better stop right here …

“I’m just trying to be a good yūjo,” he shrugged, his plump lips still forming a slight smile. Innocence. Feigned innocence.

Again, I sighed. “Don’t you think you’d much rather make a better wakashū?” I didn’t quite want to enable this weird conversation any further, but it seemed like we were at a point of no return here. Now I wanted to at least look at this logically.

In front of me, Hiro nodded approvingly. Actually a bit too enthusiastically for my tastes, too.

“You’re right. But I’d be a bit too old for that, don’t you think?”

“Let’s not go there …” I shook my head. I really didn’t want to imagine Hiroki as a barely teenage Kabuki actor, occasionally pleasuring old men in his free time. I scrunched up my face and was about to consider whether I should cut it right off here; tell him I’m sleepy, suggest that we should maybe go to bed. I was starting to feel uncomfortable under his glances and cheeky remarks. And I wasn’t about to ask myself why that was just yet.

“Okay, I’ll stop,” he breathed, this time a tad softer. His fingers played with the glass on the table and a strand of hair was now loose behind his ear and fell into his face.

I was older than him, obviously. Seven years, to be exact. I’d asked. He looked young, too. Maybe a conversation like this was totally normal among his group of friends.

“But it’s still okay to tell you that your natural hair colour suits you, right? That’s not going too far, is it?”

Again, I stared at him a bit dumbfounded before I regained my composure. Slowly, I took another sip, felt the liquid run down my throat. Swallowed and almost had to cough because I’d chocked on it. My ears felt warm. “I guess that’s okay. I’ve complimented you first. We’re even.”

My words came out curiously broken; with a low and careful voice. I’d grow out my natural dark brown hair during off time. I liked the occasional change and also to give my hair a breather between tours. It had been a while, however, since someone had complimented me on that. Weird that I just wasn’t able to pocket it like a normal compliment from an acquaintance. Suddenly it became hard to look him in the eye.

“Maybe we should–” I started to intervene, but he nodded midway, agreeing to my unfinished suggestion in a whisper.

“We should,” he said.

As we both nodded and reached for the little glasses simultaneously, our hands faintly touched and we instinctively flinched; like a god damn film cliché. It was like a little electro shock, like a spark, I felt the hair on the nape of my neck stand up. And then, as I looked at him, for a split second I could swear Hiroki didn’t look like Hiroki anymore. In this short moment, I was sure to have seen what looked like an older version of him. Not as in ‘aged,’ but as in ‘not exactly now’. All the colours were sepia toned and blurred and before I could inspect his hair style any further, the weird feeling was gone and I snapped out of it.

“Are you okay?” he asked worriedly; his facial features only now starting to make sense to my brain again, slowly blending together. I shook my head confused to let go of that state but then nodded.

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry. Forget it. I should really go to bed.”

***

I was leaning against the chunky trunk of a big plum tree. It appeared to be spring, everything was deeply in bloom and blossom, pinks and whites and yellows and greens all around, but the rays of the sun felt already intensely warm on my skin. I peeped up to the baby blue morning sky and smiled on account of it. What bliss!

“Your skin looks golden in the sun,” the boy in front of me asserted out loud; cupping my face lovingly with his two hands. I looked at him and even though I felt like scolding him, still I smiled.

Next he took the tiny used notebook and very short pencil from my hands and placed them next to us. I let him do it without objecting, even though I knew that he shouldn’t have the power to bother me at a time like this. I combed through his loose raven black forelocks.

“Take me with you tonight.”

“You very well know I cannot do that.”

“Your wife does not even need to know.”

“Look at me,” I heard my own voice ring in my ears as I looked at him intently; his face both soft and hopeless at the same time. The freshness of his pink cheeks well-neigh touched me to tears. “There is going to be a time and a place for everything yet to come.”

“I am afraid I cannot wait any longer,” he cried tenderly but his eyes were screaming. I could not seem to turn away from those two delicate moles straight underneath his right eye. They made him seem mesmerizingly beautiful. This time, I cupped his face. “I am tired. I love you.”

“And I love you,” I reassured him, “but this is not how the world works.”

“I cut myself for you.”

With deliberate and careful fingertips, I caressed the long, thick scar on his shoulder through the garment from that blade that day. It had only just closed up and healed recently.

“I mean it.”

“We will find a way, I promise you,” I whispered those words onto his trembling lips. Kissed a salty tear away. Knew that, in the end, this would only mean one thing.

“Born together on the same lotus flower.”

When the day of his genpuku ceremony came, and it was his time to cut off his forelocks, he lay in my arms; sobbing. I held him close and brushed through his hair patiently. Kissed his head.

He had tried to postpone it as long as he could but ultimately there was no young man who could escape it. You were supposed to embrace it, naturally. What an opportunity, an honour! To be able to fight in open battle as samurai and to finally be considered an adult! But for the wakashū youth at the time, it was bound to be a disaster.

“Will you still love me after that?” “I told you, I will.”

“Promise me.”

“I would gladly give my life for you,” I whispered into his black hair and meant it. “You will find a way, too, you will see. The wakashū-kabuki is about to change. I know it.”

And when it was finally time for us to be reborn, the winter had taken hold of the land. The icy cold gusts of wind cut our cheeks but we determinedly marched forward to the perfect spot encompassed by those large, naked plum trees and the little shrine. I had taken care of my wife’s financial well-being as best as I could have managed. I felt guilty but also indescribably happy at the prospect of finally being free with him. Together with him. Like it always should have been.

When I leant down to cut his throat, I kissed him intently and whispered “same lotus, remember” against his lips. It was both the hardest and the easiest thing I’d ever had to do. Then I hung myself.

And as I hung there, swaying in the wind, the full moon shining on me, I–

***

My alarm went off. Horror-stricken, I came to and suddenly I sat upright in my futon; clutching my throat and desperately trying to gasp for air. Until I realised I didn’t need to. There was fresh sweat on my forehead that I wiped away before I got up to drink some water.

What a freakish nightmare.

I’d never before dreamed of dying. Let alone anything Tokugawa period inspired. I didn’t even know I’d had the knowledge. But it had all felt too real, looked so real. The more I tried to hold onto the blurred memories, however, the more they slipped away. I shook my head. With all of yesterday’s wakashū talk and the little lecture at the memorial site, this was bound to happen, right? Right …

I sleepily rubbed my eyes and looked outside. Still dark, of course. I hadn’t been as sleepy yesterday …

After I’d had a cup of tea, I made my way downstairs to the onsen. Wondered if Hiroki would appear at the same time as yesterday. I waited in the mushy warmth and people came and went, but he never appeared.

Slightly feeling defeated, I let the back of my head fell softly on the wet stones behind me and sighed. I couldn’t put my finger on why I felt so bad. Maybe I’d scared him away yesterday after all; had made him feel unwelcomed. That hadn’t been my intention as his senpai at all.

But then, what did I want?

Finally, at breakfast, I saw him sitting at the large table and joined him hesitantly. He really didn’t seem too pleased. But maybe I’d only imagined it.

“Did you sleep well last night?”

Hiroki spooned his miso soup; his face stiff. “So-so. Could have been better, honestly.”

My fingertips itched to ask him why he didn’t come to the public onsen this morning. He’d probably just used his own private one, but then again, why today …

“Yeah, me neither,” I mused; body refreshed, mind sleepy. “I hope I didn’t offend you yesterday.”

It was honestly a thought that had been circling around in my head all morning since I’d woken up from that weird dream. Objectively I knew that I hadn’t offended him and if I had, it wasn’t my fault. Just … seeing him looking so miserable, for whatever reason, felt like choking. Trying to be as silent as I could manage, I grabbed everything I needed for my breakfast and started to eat.

“You did not,” he reassured me and there was honesty in his voice, though his eyes remained a question without an answer. “I honestly think that I was acting like a little brat on purpose and I should apologise for that.”

“So, do you only think you should or are you apologising?”

When I lifted my gaze to look at him, for a moment, I thought he’d throw his tofu at me. But to my huge relief, he smiled, beamed even, and so I chimed in for a bit. When the pleasant feelings had settled after a while, I again tried to focus on the food. Suddenly it tasted a lot better.

“I’ll be honest with you,” I started after a few minutes in pleasant silence, not quite knowing whether I should really tell him, “actually I wanted to spend this vacation alone. You know, not even seeing or talking to anyone. But now that you’re here, too … how about going around town for a bit later?”

Hiroki nodded, not too enthusiastically but I liked to think he was. “That sounds great. Check out the restaurants?”

I nodded. There were a lot I hadn’t yet seen.

***

It was long dark outside when we exited the restaurant we’d had dinner at. Both clothed in grey kimono, and already slightly intoxicated from all the sake we’d had after food, we walked along the dimly lit river.

It was astoundingly beautiful here. It very well-neigh looked as though you were literally in old Edo, only the street lights meddled with the illusion. It was a clear night with a clear night’s sky and although still quite cold, there was no wind cutting our faces. Everything was dark and still and silent and listened.

We hadn’t said a word since we’d started walking alongside this little river called Heiki in a daze of alcohol and mild food overdose. Which was, for the record, slightly out of character for the both of us considering that we’d happily chatted away during our meal and it made me fuzzy in the head. We’d had a lot of fun together tonight.

After we’d walked for a while, our ryokan wasn’t too far anymore, Hiroki suddenly stopped to lean onto the wooden handrail at the side of the street and listen to the polite rhythm of the gurgling water. On the other river side, the plum trees were already in full bloom.

“Why we’re stopping?” I asked oblivious and watched him watching the scenery in front of us. There was a short smile on his lips. We were still drunk.

“It’s just so pretty here. I’ve spent enough time indoors.”

I nodded. Although I silently dreamed of using the onsen for a second time today. “It’s cold after a while, though, don’t you think?”

Hesitatingly, I shuffled to a spot next to him; the fabric of our kimono almost touching.

“I can handle the cold,” he mused but I knew he wasn’t finished. So I didn’t say anything after that. Then he looked up and so did I. Out here, you could actually see the stars. Sometimes you get the feeling that they’re not quite there in the city, as though someone had imagined them a long time ago and so they only then came into existence. You never really think about them, you never really see them, because even though you might sometimes look up from your hectic walk, they are not really there. You look up and they’re not there. You know they should be and you know everyone says they’re there, so you believe them.

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?”

I watched the not quite full moon closely, silently, and wondered if Hiroki knew what he’d just said. What a walking cliché … After another few seconds had passed, however, I decided to blame the alcohol for that as well.

“It is,” I said warily and got ready to start walking again, “but let’s just go inside. Have something to drink. I just want to get into the hot water one more time before I go to bed.”

“That does sound good,” he agreed enthusiastically as he walked right by my side. I could see his breath forming little clouds of white mist in the light of the street lamps whenever I peered over to him. And while I was at it, I forbid my head from overthinking his statement from earlier. He hadn’t meant it like that … “How about we go to my place? I have a private onsen.”

“Don’t you think I have one, too? You’ve been to my room.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, his cheeks sporting a soft glowing pink. He was giddy, always in such high spirits, it was fascinating. “But does yours overlook the forest?”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve booked the most expensive room?”

“What can I say?” Hiroki looked at me and laughed a hearty smile, showing me his wrist and attached to it: a rather expensive looking watch. “Rich parents and successful, too. Why would I settle for the almost?”

“Wow, you’re … unbelievable.”

What a fucking brat. He’d been like this from the start, as if he never cared how he came across. Maybe he really didn’t. Some people’d understandably think of him as obnoxious. But I knew he was kind and thoughtful. Honest even. That’s why he didn’t bother to change his cheeky ways. He knew he could trust me.

And he had been right indeed – his room looked full-on fancy; sort of extravagant even and the view over the forest was breathtakingly gorgeous. I hadn’t been aware that there were such major differences between the rooms. His little private onsen was built on what appeared to be a balcony of some sort – there weren’t any walls or glass façades surrounding the hot bath. It was wonderful, really, so you’d still be sitting outside and the hot steam wouldn’t fill the cramped little room. Now I knew why he’d stayed inside this morning. And, ironically enough, there was the moon right outside this room, hanging over the onsen like an exclamation point with the stroke of its upper body missing.

“I’ve got some beer. Tell you what, I’m going to get it and you go and get yourself ready?”

“That’s decadent,” I intervened slightly puzzled, though Hiroki’s face only revealed what seemed to be one of his ‘what do you mean?’-looks. As if that was the most common thing on this planet. So in the end I shrugged my shoulders and obliged, wondering when our roles had switched exactly. The fact that I was still intoxicated, however, helped this case enormously.

I’d been with friends to the hot springs a hundred times. Even with his brother. But somehow … this time … alone in a private onsen with him and alcohol involved … there was something feeling not quite right about this. I just couldn’t put my finger on why that was, though. And so I ignored the little voice inside my head as he sat opposite of me. The fact that I kind of initiated this mess in the first place Sipping his beer. The lights inside were dimmed, we only really had the moon illuminating our faces.

It looked kind of bizarre. I knew he was of drinking age, but he still looked so young holding this comparatively huge beer can in his hand. The way he sat there, silently, enjoying the warmth and sometimes looking up at the sky; questioningly. There was no way I could enjoy my bath like this. With all these ideas and thoughts running through my busy head. And him thoughtfully examining me once in a while when he thought I wasn’t looking.

“Is there something on my face?” I asked him without really expecting an answer to that.

The air around us had been electrified ever since we’d gone home from the restaurant. I should have known better and retired to my own room after we’d come here. I didn’t know what had made me stay.

“Do you think the moon looked the same for people in former times?”

I had to muffle a small laugh at that; I’d been expecting a lot but this knocked me off track. “Oh, it’s that time already? Philosophy?”

I couldn’t help myself but mock it. I busied my fingers with my own beer and hoped he would just drop the subject altogether. Something about it unnerved me to no end. No more talking about the bloody moon!

For a while then, he said nothing. Only when he saw my raised eyebrows did he open his mouth to respond. For some weird reason, I was anticipating exactly what he was about to say just then. God damn, I hadn’t actually wanted to trigger that.

“It’s just … I’ve had a weird dream last night.”

“Just a dream, though,” I assured him and freaked out on the inside. What a bizarre coincidence. Hopefully just that. Hopefully.

In front of me, Hiro nodded and finished his beer in one long gulp. He did make me nervous, I finally realised for the first time. His unspoken words especially; I could see them in his eyes. Now it was just awkward between the two of us. Both staring into nothingness and trying not to move. The water was suddenly too hot, it made my face glow up, and yet I could have sworn that I felt the subtle heat of his body instead. He was resting his arm outside of the onsen on the elevated ground; his fingertips loosely pointing in my direction. My chest felt heavy. I didn’t know what to do.

“What made you come here in the first place?” I heard myself saying before I could even intervene consciously. But then I thought that it wasn’t such a bad idea to talk about that, after all. Normal enough conversation starter. Made both our minds busy. Would probably and finally stop me from wanting to move closer to him.

Hiro shrugged. “I felt like it. Searched for a place that allowed tattoos. This one felt right.”

“Right,” I whispered like in trance. Even though I had to have sobered up quite some bit already, my head felt so fuzzy. Trying to be subtle about it, I examined that part of his chest piece that was visible above the water surface. It said ‘Rule the Fate’ in elegant lettering and when I was done reading it, my hair on the nape of my neck stood on end. I realised that I couldn’t take my eyes off it. I knew he’d noticed. “Same for me.”

“You only have those two?” he whispered back in the same tone of voice, though only stared at the one on my neck. The Vena tattoo. “It’s your album title, isn’t it? What does it mean to you?”

I swallowed hard. I couldn’t quite make his eyes out in the dark, but his look was piercing. Not in an uncomfortable way, however, it managed to make me hot to the touch. My throat felt tight.

“We wanted to get back to our roots music wise,” I tried to give him the same TED talk I’d given basically any interviewer back then. And it wasn’t even that big of a lie. “So I thought roots … blood … veins … you get it.”

“Yeah, I get it,” he nodded, “but why’d you get a tattoo of that on your skin?”

“…Why’d you get yours?”

“I mean …” he paused, gesturing a bit comically. I again swallowed a lump in my throat. “You only have two. Those must mean something to you.”

“I just wanted to have someone on the cover with that tattoo. Thought it might as well be me.”

Hiroki only nodded as if he understood but in reality I knew he wasn’t convinced. Again, it wasn’t that big of a lie. I just didn’t feel fully comfortable talking about anything that personal. At least he accepted that. I watched him in front of me; tilting his head back to catch a nice cool breeze, his chest rising and falling softly. Fate. Then he lifted his gaze.

“Can I take a closer look at it?”

“What?” I responded instinctively and way too fast. I couldn’t quite tell him not to be ridiculous. I would have probably told him so yesterday. But tonight … I felt like I couldn’t refuse him such a simple request. He probably hadn’t gotten a good look at it in the past two days and he was just … curious. We were still slightly drunk. To ask such a thing was within the realms of possibility. It wasn’t weird. Or so I told myself. Because when I looked hard into it, when I tried to be honest with me … then I knew that all the fibres of my entire body wanted him closer. I wanted to say yes. I wanted him to look. The time of self-control was over, I’d just decided. No more self-control. He had it coming. I just couldn’t shake off that feeling of total helplessness; a feeling that this was all supposed to happen, right now and in the same exact way it was happening. “…yes.”

I held my breath as he carefully skidded closer to me in the onsen. It wasn’t big or anything, but the motion felt like minutes. Eventually, however, he was standing right in front of me; his stomach was almost at the same height as my face. I exhaled relieved when he decided to hunker down in front of me after all. My ears felt hot, again I held my breath. Prayed that I wasn’t coming across as nervous as my beating heart suggested.

This was it, wasn’t it? This was one of those moments. I’d never been good at them. I was tense enough with women. But with a man? The whole realisation of it all, that it felt so right and that I knew my body wanted him so badly, made me lose my mind.

Sitting in front of me like that, Hiroki scooted just the tiniest bit closer; supporting himself with his right hand on the edge of the onsen right next to my head as he leaned forward in slow motion. I felt his breath on my wet skin, making me shiver and flinched when the fingers of his left hand finally touched me; tracing the delicate strokes of black ink. I hadn’t expected him to, honestly. I’d thought he’d only look, but now that he was here and I wasn’t quite surprised retrospectively, I leaned back and let out a small sigh that I’d held in consequently.

I imagined he was aware of where my body was and was fussily concerned with trying not to touch me in the water, though I could feel his thighs close to mine. My pulse throbbed so loud in my ears that I couldn’t understand my own voice inside my head anymore. All I heard was him breathing faster. I was so nervous and yet so giddy. Time moved so excruciatingly slow. I knew my impulses were about to kick in. I could feel it. My head felt so dizzy, my heart screamed. This ridiculous act was so painful. I knew he wanted me and I was sure he knew that I wanted him.

Two days. It had taken him two days to make me mad for him and his body. Laughable!

I was just about to go ‘fuck it’ and grab his head and just kiss him; I couldn’t take it any longer and my fingers itched for his skin, I couldn’t take the fact that I couldn’t just touch him anymore – but then I felt his lips brush against my neck. Drawing in a breath sharply, I swallowed down a moan and was so perplexed that I suddenly didn’t know what to do after all. Then I just decided on placing my hand on his head, brushing through his soft hair bolder by the second, encouraging him to go on. His right hand now on my shoulder and upper arm, the other somewhere in the water.

This kid sure had balls. I chuckled amused but softly. Relieved.

“You’ve planned this?” I breathed under shivers. My heart was so full; I didn’t know what to do with all these giddy feelings. I hadn’t been this horny for someone in such a long time. How was I supposed to hold back until I could finally touch him properly, anyway? All of this was moving way too slow. I wanted to grab him and press him against the floor. I’d never done that to a guy. I wondered how he moved; how he moaned and how his face looked when he had my cock inside of him. I let out a shaky breath. Grabbed the back of his head and finally kissed him. Pressed him against me; our faces so close that it became almost impossible to move. The steam had made our hair and skin damp. His lips were wet.

I loved the little trembling breaths he took between kisses. I knew his lips felt soft but all I could think of was that tingling right underneath my skin, everywhere. Everywhere his body touched mine. His hands all over me and one of his legs somewhat awkward somewhere between my legs. His hips were touching my stomach. I could feel his hard-on and I knew he could feel my cock brush against him, too. He kissed back with such force; with at least as much desperation as I had in me. Even his fingertips where shaky. When I supported him by the hips and pressed him closer towards me, he sobbed against my lips; I opened my eyes. My hands still both cupping his face.

God, he was beautiful.

But as I was watching him in front of me, searching for his eyes in the dark but failing, there was this sudden realisation what we were about to do. Reluctantly I pressed our foreheads together. Clenched my teeth. Exhaled slowly. It felt right, yes, though this would most definitely not be perceived this way by … literally everyone we knew or who knew us.

“Hiroki … I think we should stop.”

I almost couldn’t recognise my own voice when I spoke; I was out of breath. I tried to search for his gaze one more time in the dimly lit darkness and recognised the coldness of his breath on my wet neck. He was still so close to my own face that it was hard to breathe. Our noses touched. I felt his chest heaving. I honestly didn’t want to let go of him. I couldn’t.

“You don’t want this to stop.” A whisper.

He was right. I smiled against his lips but didn’t kiss him. He let out a long sigh. I didn’t know how we’d ended up here. I didn’t even really want to occupy my mind with that question. I just wanted to follow whatever instinct was piloting me at this moment. It felt so right. Something inside of me told me that I really shouldn’t worry about such a minor thing. It would all fall into place. I just knew that I wanted to get off with him so badly. I wanted to see his face when he came. I wanted to know how he sounded like when he was close. And it did feel like a taboo, too, somehow. Something I’d never considered doing, something that fans would definitely never know about. And something his brother would most definitely never learn.

God damn, I couldn’t stand it anymore. He was so right. No, I didn’t want to end this.

So I carefully got up and out, so as not to slip or hurt Hiroki accidentally in the process, and impatiently dried my body with a towel. It was freaking cold, but that wasn’t it, I was just desperate to get inside and begin where we left off. Still out of breath, I watched him climb out; biting my lips as my gaze fell on his hard cock. He looked a bit awkward standing there but I could not wait to touch him again. And so I took another careful breath and reached for his shoulder, wiped those single drops of water off as he was distractedly drying himself, too. His eyes on me the whole time. Gave him a small kiss before I began to hurry to get inside.

“Come on,” I encouraged him, took his hand and pulled him into the warmth. Didn’t care if he was still wet. Didn’t care if some of the curtains weren’t closed. Didn’t care about the far too dimmed lights.

I closed the door behind us and quickly pulled him into another kiss. Cupping his face, feeling the smooth skin on his back, pressing him against me as we stood there in the middle of the traditional looking ryokan living room.

I felt far too hot, my ears hurt. And I knew my lips had to have been swollen by then. But I just couldn’t stop kissing him, catching his moans and little desperate breaths. It wasn’t like playing an instrument; Hiroki definitely knew what he was doing and what he wanted. He fought back, he pushed, he pulled. I would have loved to thrust him to the floor and to just lead this whole thing. See if he liked that. If he wanted that or had had in mind when he started hitting on me yesterday out of the blue. But instead Hiroki swiftly dropped to his knees without any time left for me to protest.

It must have been God damn uncomfortable on the tatami floor but seeing him like this, looking up at me with half-closed eyes – I wasn’t really gonna talk him out of it, let’s be honest. I brushed through his hair gently and was excited to see where this was going. No man had ever given me a blowjob but Hiroki looked as though he knew exactly what he’d had in mind, which aroused the question of if he’d done it before. I held my breath before his tongue touched me and shivered when it did.

He grabbed my waist and let his hands wander back and forth. I closed my eyes. Could not quite relax standing like this but the sensation was just so overwhelmingly perfect that I at the same time couldn’t care less. I just wanted more of that throbbing inside of my chest, to get all choked up. I didn’t even think I could bring out a single word at this point. My mouth stood open and all I could do was to breathe loudly as he had me in his mouth. My hands somewhere in his hair. I felt him grinning against my skin.

Jesus. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Hiroki,” I forced out with a broken voice then after all. I didn’t want to come just yet. But he was so good. My breathing grew faster and finally he stopped. Licked up my length once more before he stood up to face me again. He was still shorter than me, but his grin was so wide and smug that I was on the verge of holding him down and wanting to fuck it off him just like that. Instead I pulled him into yet another kiss; his tongue tasted faintly salty and bitter.

I let him press himself against my body as he wrapped his arms around my shoulders and tickled my ear with his breath. Enjoyed the warmth his body gave off; all the angles, edges and muscles a woman didn’t have. Tried to capture and keep a hold of how he felt on my skin. Inhaled shakily.

“Are you brave enough to fuck me?” he whispered in my ear. I shivered. And mulled it over for a second. Brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead. I couldn’t think properly, I was just so horny. I hadn’t had sex with a man before him. But I wasn’t afraid, I wasn’t worried. All I wanted right now was him in front of me on all fours; on top of me, beneath me. Everything; I didn’t care. I just wanted to make him scream my name.

“I didn’t exactly think about bringing condoms, you know.” That had been pretty low on my priority list when I came here, to be quite honest. Who would have thought, anyway?

I let my fingertips run up and down his flat chest, felt the pulse on his throat; nose to nose, lips to lips. My hands now on the nape of his neck. Breathing in his sighs. On the verge of telling myself ‘fuck it’ – only that I knew better.

“I don’t have any, either,” he whispered against my lips. I kissed his.

“I was afraid you might say that …” I chuckled almost silently; still pressing myself against him. The desire I felt for him was immeasurable at this point. How could a stupid little kid do that to me? I tried pushing the fact of him being Taka’s little brother, of him being in the rock music scene himself, to the very back of my head. It was kind of weird the longer I thought about it, but because I still wanted to do this, however the fuck he’d managed to convince me, I tried not to think about it any further.

So … we couldn’t fuck, but there were still plenty of other options left. Plus, there was always the possibility of a ‘next time,’ right? I had all the time in the world to fantasise about my thick cock inside of him next time, when we were more prepared. About him sobbing little moans and pleas with every thrust; begging for more. To be released. Deeper and faster. I almost chocked at the thought and finally broke the physical contact to get the futon out of the closet.

Hiroki watched me prepare it; his breathing shallow. When I sat down on it, he joined me in the blink of an eye. It didn’t take long for me to pull him into another kiss, which he approved of easily and obliged without a word. If anything, he melted into it. I could feel his body blur together with the rest of the background; I could feel him shiver and shake. My movements only grew stronger; more erratic. Pushing and pulling. Until he was lying right underneath me. I breathed his name against his lips. Kissed his jaw. Traced his cheekbones. Swallowed hard.

He was so God damn beautiful. And so God damn needy and complaint under my fingertips; his legs spread, pressing himself up against my body. I craved him. I so wished I could just fuck him after all. I could not wait. I pinned his arms back onto the floor and caught his silent sighs. Grinding down on him. Watching his eyes cloud over. His cheeks pink with lust, intoxication and hopefully embarrassment. I didn’t know why I wanted him embarrassed exactly. I just knew that I had to wipe that smugness off him fast.

“Want to have the next best thing?” I purred, shoving two fingers inside his mouth maybe a tad too ungently; all the while keeping his arms in check. But he understood, wasn’t surprised, it took him not a second to start licking them. I groaned as I pressed our foreheads together. I liked the sensation. I liked how I still felt as though I had the upper hand in all this. He’d oblige, and if he didn’t, I’d make him.

When I felt like it was enough, I replaced my fingers with my mouth and let them wander down his body instead. It was my first time with a man but I’d had anal sex before. I knew how he’d like it. And I was excited at the prospect of finding the perfect angle for him. Watching his face change. Experiencing in what way it was different for him than it was for a woman.

He arched his back when I was finally massaging against him, waiting for another response. Watching him wriggle and twist, trying to escape my firm grip. Watching him slowly losing it. I just needed this one reassurance. This one push. At this point I was hovering right above his lips. Not kissing him again. Waiting. My own cock was throbbing. My heart sank. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this excited.

“Please,” I heard him breathe, but his voice was so shattered and shaky that I’d almost missed it. His cheeks were still a fresh pink, as were his ears. He had his mouth open and his eyes closed shut. His teeth clenched. I could feel his cock pulsating.

God, was I really about to fulfil one of his old teenage fantasies? Had he been into me the whole time?

“Say that again for me,” I asked, licking his lips provokingly. Being the one to call the shots, to have the power over him, made me positively drunken with excitement. Women were often way too obedient in the first place. I’d never had the urge to exhaust established power dynamics. It was different with Hiroki. And this was only the beginning. I was looking forward to finally being inside of him; to fuck that smugness out of him. And somewhere in my head I wondered for a short second if I’d be able to cuddle him on my sofa, too.

“Please, Masato–”

Maybe he wanted to add something but I decided that it still wasn’t enough.

“I need a full sentence from you.”

He moaned under my weight; under the feeling of my fingers pushing further against him and yet still not pushing far enough. His cock looked so ridiculously full and desperate.

“I– I need your fingers inside of me, Masato. Please–”

When I finally pushed my fingers in, I made sure to watch him closely; to see how his face went to pieces, how he lost control of his facial features completely. I watched him intently. Fascinated. He instinctively tightened around my fingers. I had yet to move them in and out but he already seemed to be in the highest of highs. When I let go of his arms, he didn’t look as though he knew what he should do with them all of a sudden. So he left them above his head on the floor. But sitting back, taking in the whole picture; all of him – was so arousing.

After I’d started slowly moving my fingers in and out experimentally, he relaxed and it gradually became easier and his moans increasingly louder. It felt like being in a total state of manic fixation. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. Off his face; off his cock; off the place my fingers slipped in and out of him. I watched his chest heave and him squirm. Two fingers were all it took for him to go insane. He looked as though it would be so easy for him to cum just from my fingers alone. My cock twitched at the thought. But I really wanted to get some friction, too. I was just so turned on by the sight of him and his little sobs. By the feeling of my fingers surrounded by his tight warmth. By him trying to somehow hide his face behind his arms embarrassed. Even though he obviously loved being watched as I fingerfucked him. His wide open legs said more than a thousand words.

Jesus, I would have loved to replace my fingers with my cock. Seeing what kind of difference it made. How loud he could moan. How his face looked.

I swallowed hard. I never would have thought I’d do that to a man, let alone him. I never would have thought I’d find cock attractive. But seeing him so turned on turned me on. Maybe my heart beat so fast because it was him and not some random other guy.

I leaned down again to stifle his moans with my mouth. Reached down between my own legs and began jerking myself off. It was kind of a pain in the ass, to be honest. God damn uncomfortable. But the smallest of touches felt heavenly. I shuddered with every stroke and already felt close to the edge. How could that even be a thing?

“I want to come all over you,” I pressed out; my voice shaking with lust and arousal. I couldn’t think of anything more perfect right now. Seeing him come. Him coming at the same time as me. Him coming from me coming all over him. Not needing to care about where to release or how to get rid of it afterwards. Just watching him love every second of it.

“Yes, I want you to,” he breathed equally shaky against my lips and I felt him finally reach for his own cock, too. Even though I would have loved trying to make him come just from my fingers, I shivered at the thought of him jerking off. Never thought about watching anyone like this. Suddenly I couldn’t think of anything hotter.

I leaned back in order for me to take him in fully; to watch him slowly get closer to the edge himself. He was pulling his cock slowly but firmly, in the same rhythm as my thrusts. I was matching him. Not thinking about it. My head was on autopilot. I moved my fingers faster. He moaned louder. I did not think about bothering other guests. My mouth stood slightly open. Breathing became harder. My own hand on my cock felt so good. I closed my eyes for a second. Sighed.

“You look so pretty like that,” I groaned. Maybe a tad too loud. His answer was a long moan. I could see that he was close. Felt it.

And even though it was way easier to both fingerfuck him and jerk myself off when I leaned back, I just couldn’t resist bending further down to kiss him. I liked how he just couldn’t cope anymore the moment I tried to steal his breath on top of everything that was happening. He yelped and gasped and it momentarily threw him off balance.

“I’m close,” he whined against my lips.

I skidded closer to him on my knees. Moved my fingers faster, tried to go even deeper. He cried. I pressed our foreheads together. Massaging myself with an even stronger grip. I felt hot all over and this familiar electric sensation spread through my whole body. I closed my eyes.

But when I finally came, I leant back again to watch it all. I couldn’t seem to control the volume of my moans. I felt deaf. I tried not to lose the rhythm of my fingers but I kind of failed. I watched as the first shot hit him on the neck and jaw. I exhaled. Then his chest and stomach. I groaned. When he was finally coming too, triggered by my own orgasm, his cum reached his clavicle. My own was dropping on his cock and hand by then.

Breathing. Coping. Trying to regain composure.

I smiled when I realised how much cum he had on his body. He smiled back as he grabbed my head with his clean hand and just held it. Pressed our foreheads together this time.

What a fucking mess.

When I realised that he’d probably have to sleep in this futon tonight, I carefully pulled out my two fingers; listened to him whine at the sensation. Then I tried to find him some tissues to get rid of most of the mess roughly first before it ran down his sides. Then I washed my hands.

“I don’t know if it’s me – but I think you should take a shower.”

“Oh, really?” he said in a mocking tone as he turned around to face me. But his face was still flushed; he gleamed almost. His smile so bright I wondered if I’d just accidentally drugged him instead.

I cleared my throat; abruptly feeling a bit more awkward than before. It was just the way he stood in front of me like that. The tattoos suited his body shape. All of a sudden he looked his usual bratty self again. All wide smiles, big laughs and provocative words.

I liked how his body looked, I only now realised. It honestly blew my mind how that preference could develop over two days when I hadn’t even felt a similar urge once in my life before.

“Yeah,” I whispered and closed the gap between us. Pulled him inside my arms. Felt the angles and edges and pressed my lips onto his. “I should probably go with you.”

#coldrain #my first story #maifasu #masato hayakawa #hiroki moriuchi #moriuchi hiroki #hayakawa masato #masato david hayakawa #myfirststory #smut #fanfiction #MasaHiro #MasaKi #The Moon in Old Times

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pomegran-art · 5 years ago

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What do you think of Beatles gem au fusions? Also your art is fantastic

First of all, thank you!!! :D

Second of all, sorry this took me so long to get around to. Tumblr’s being real wonky lately!

Thirdly, ooo yes!! My friend asked me if I’d be willing to do that and I was like heck yeah! I just didn’t get around to it this time :)

I think John (Moss Agate) and Paul (Pearl) would make something like a turquoise! Their fusion is definitely very determined, confident, strong, and creative! There’s absolutely nothing that can stand in this fusion’s way. Turquoise is very much a stable entity, but sometimes an overwhelming disagreement can cause him to unfuse—kind of like Garnet? Moss and Pearl’s first time fusing would definitely be on accident, and very emotional. Maybe they were discussing something and trying to comfort each other and fused in the process. Or maybe it was while they were writing a song, and their minds were so in sync that they just had to...come together! Literally!

George (padparadscha) and Ringo (kunzite) would probably be a bright magenta gem, I’m thinking a tourmaline maybe? He’s just about the kindest fusion there is, always willing to lend a hand (or four) to a gem in need! He’s also very humorous and goofy. Since George and Ringo are both very humble and selfless, they’d probably fuse in order to save another gem, probably John or Paul.

The four-Beatle fusion. Oh boy. All I can say is that’s an ABSOLUTE UNIT!! That’d probably be the most powerful gem there is. I’m talking could shatter a diamond with one strum of the guitar chord. But they’d have to work very hard to keep the fusion together for long.

I think that, within the guitarist fusions (Paul/George, George/John, Paul/George/John), there’s a good possibility that they both bonked into each other while sharing a mic an fused. Idk. I just like that idea.

There are a bunch of possible combinations of the lads as fusions that I probably wouldn’t be the best at theorizing about, but please! Discuss your thoughts in the comments :) and let me know if you want me to draw any (I take commissions, but if I get enough requests for something I’d be happy to draw it), and feel free to even draw them yourself! I’d love to see what you make/hear what you have to say!!!

Remember to follow me on Instagram (@pomegran.art) as well because I’m generally more active over there :)

#beatles gem au

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nerdnag · 2 years ago

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She flexed her fingers, carefully adjusting the magic as it flowed out from her hands and watching as new shapes appeared on the surface. Then she changed the reflection of the sky; from bright blue to the darkest of blacks, covering it in millions of little speckles that shone brightly—if slightly trembling—off the surface of the water.

"See?" she asked.

For once, Hubert's expression showed real wonder, his gaze moving across the pond to take it all in as his lips parted in fascination.

I commissioned @wild-moss-art to paint a scene from my fic The Mysteries of Magic, where Constance uses her magic to change the reflections in the monastery's pond to the night sky as she remembers it above the Nuvelle grounds.

And just like Hubert is rendered speechless by Constance's skills, I am once again taken aback by the sheer magic that Moss can achieve with their art. 💖

#This is what made me so emotional yesterday #Moss is so talented holy shit #Look at that background!!!#Look at the sky!!#LOOK AT HUBIE AND COCO!!!#Look at how he looks at her. And how she's so fully concentrated on her magic.#There is so much love in this art piece #And Moss should have all the praise in the world for managing to capture it so perfectly 🙏❤️#I'll definitely commission them so many more times in the future!! And the rest of you should too!!#Fe3h #Fe3h constance #Constance von Nuvelle #Fe3h Hubert #Hubert von Vestra #Cocobert #The Mysteries of Magic #Moss art heck yeah #My favorite piece of theirs so far 💕#I am literally Hubert rn as I stare at this art for hours completely speechless

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starlightsruby · 6 years ago

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I-

OK THIS IS A LATE POST TO MAKE BUT

IM LIKE SHOOKITH. I did want to make a post when i first hit 1k on this blog but ive been really stressed with a lot of mental stuff that i wasnt able to really make any posts and also ive been hetic with life at the moment but honestly i remember going to my friend just estatic with joy cause holy shit i couldn't believe what i had seen. When i was young and starting out with art i remember i had no self confidence in myself, apart from a few people (whom i cherish alot) i didn't get alot of support when doing art, i was told my style was lazy, that it wasn't good enough and people used to shrug me off because it wasn't clean or fitted a style. Heck my brother liked to compare me to artists he knew when i was young to show me how inexperienced i was. But i kept drawing, it was something i just felt resonate with me, even if i didnt like my art back then it was something that meant a lot to me and drove me to be better.

A few years back i finally started to appreciate my art style, i wasnt looking at it like oh man i wish i was like this person or oh im sad i cant do this. I started to see each new challenge as exciting to learn and honestly when people told me they enjoyed my art too? It shocked me cause i didnt even think people would enjoy the stuff i did. To have this blog for as long as its been around and just not only developing my art but meeting so many lovely people along the way, when someone tells me they like my art or was interested in what i was doing, honestly never fails to warm my heart and wants me to keep going and its thanks to all of you <3

I just hit the 1k on my youtube channel and im thinking for the occasion- while it wont be done for a while, i will actually attempt a full pmv with animation sprinkled in (like the moss) as a thank you for the great memories and for more to come <3

I might do more special stuff also for this blog if anyone has any ideas? Im gonna be streaming art tonight also and itd be fun just to chat to people! but yeah i lovE YOU ALL ALOT THANK YOU ALL <3 <3 <3

#like ok let me tell you #i legit teared up in the dressing room of a pantomine i was in when i turned my phone on and saw just all the notes and messages i had gotte #joining the sanders sides fandom honestly has been amazing and i am SO thankful for the support and friends ive made #and those who have stuck around with me since day one #i love you all so so muc

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jcmorrigan · 5 years ago

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Storm Hawks Emoji Questions: 🎻+ 🏹 + ⛈ (I may not be a follower, but I am interested. =3)

7. 🎻 - Would you buy Ravess’s mixtape?

Heck yeah! She’s talented as all get-out!

14. 🏹 - Do you have a favourite weapon?

It’s REALLY hard to pick because this show is PACKED with awesome weapons. I’d have to say crystal mage staffs, especially Cyclonis’, are probably the most aesthetically pleasing, but I also REALLY love the Dark Ace’s sword and its unique fire-based crystal. Honorable mention: Mr. Moss’ whip - it’s not a FAVORITE, but I’ve never seen anyone really take that direction with a whip before and I love it!

19. ⛈ - Why do you like Storm Hawks?

All sorts of reasons! Kooky heroes that run on the Power of Friendship, fun villains that hit up all the tropes, a gorgeous and creative world with distinctly designed Terras, a complete lack of fear of being cliché in the name of having FUN, the fact that it manages to integrate dark themes in the final arc nonetheless, some offbeat jokes that really just hit the sweet spot, and of course, my darling Stork, who I love and relate to to no end. I know it’s by no means high art or one of the more daring cartoons out there, but it’s just a fun time!

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im-hiding22 · 6 years ago

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The Art of Resurrection - 8:30 PM

“Hey, we’re here!” Buggy, Mari, Clive and Rascal descended down the stairs and into the lab. Rascal was wrapped up in Mari’s cardigan, shivering slightly as he stepped in.

“Ah, just on time.” Mendel looked to them and nodded, crushing up some agate. “Make sure to shut the door to the lab.” The sound of the door shutting was heard shortly after he said so.

“So how’s the defusing gonna work?” Clive asked.

“It’s rather complicated,” began Mendel. “I’m going to do the usual ritual, with the string and the water and all, but once it gets to sorting out the souls, it gets a bit difficult. Fortunately I have Oz to help me communicate with them and get them sorted out.”

“I mean, I can sure try,” Oz said, flying up to the table and looking down at the Juggernaut.

“Usually when I do this it is between fusions with only two spirits. It tends to be easy, since I just need to separate the two souls and let them out into their physical forms. This one will be different and more difficult, however, since I need to send some souls to rest and then some to their physical forms. And since there is so many...” Mendel slid the crushed up agate into a small felt bag and sprinkled some over the sleeping Juggernaut.

“And...what’s the deal with all this stuff?” Buggy sat down on the ground away from the table, peering up at Mendel as he prepared the table.

“Glad you asked.” Mendel smiled under his mask. “Basically, I have made a ring around them using saltwater. The saltwater is like a line that keeps the souls in, almost like snails. The moss agate serves to ground them to Earth and heal them more successfully and thoroughly.” He pointed to the candles at the corners of the ring. “The candles are placed down in each cardinal direction to help guide them, as tradition. The red string I’ve tied to their limbs is supposed to keep the spirits in. When I cut it and speak the words of the ritual, the spirits are let out. Next I’ll be placing petals of daffodils along the ring and over their eyes...” Mendel grabbed another felt bag and opened it up. He stood in thought for a moment. “...Well, as many eyes as I can find.”

“Do...you really have to do all this? Sounds like a bunch of decoration.”

“It ensures better results. Last time I did this without the salt circle it was an utter nightmare. Doing this without the agate tends to lead to wounds reopening. The daffodils? Not sure, but I would rather not test that one out. They stand for rebirth and helps assist the process of bringing them back. I always use them for resurrections as well. It is almost like a habit by now.” He gently tucked yellow petals over the Juggernaut’s shut eyes. Buggy, Clive, and Rascal watched Mendel curiously. Mari set down her potions by Mendel’s side and stood by, observing him as well.

Once he finished covering their eyes Mendel shut the little bag and placed it back on its respective shelves.

“I think that is all...” He wandered to a little drawer and pulled out some thin silver scissors. “Here comes the fun part.” He stood by the table. “Everyone stand clear. Oz, stay close by, but still back up a bit. Don’t let anything get into the ring.” Everyone stood back, watching with patient eyes. “Ophelia, turn off the lights. We need the candles to be our only light.” Ophelia nodded and stood. Her coat was on the ground next to her. She drifted around the room and blew out any candles on the walls that were still lit. It went dim, and the group’s eyes slowly adjusted to the lack of light. Mendel took in a deep breath and gently lifted the end of a string tied to the Juggernaut’s wrist.

“Alright,” he said. He began reciting a ritual speech, in a tongue only the rest of the Coven could understand. Everyone watched him with big, waiting eyes, Buggy hugging onto his flamethrower, Clive lying on his stomach with his head rested in his hands, Rascal holding Milky and leaning forwards in an attempt to see better. “Spirits of this vessel, awaken for me as I speak,” he drawled, briefly waving his hands in a quick motion. The ring of flower petals and saltwater faintly let off a red glow. Mendel wasn’t wearing his robe, so there was no eye pattern on his clothes to open, but when his eyes parted they shone the same shade of red as the ring. “Awaken yourselves, come closer, and once I cut these strings, you will come free.” He slid his finger tip into the meager space in between the string and the Juggernaut’s wrist. The silver scissors slipped in next to them and cut cleanly through the string. He did this for the rest of the string around its limbs, and once they were all cut Oz’s attention was caught. His head immediately tilted to look up above the Juggernaut, eyes wide. Mendel looked down at him and smiled under his mask.

“Are they there?” Rascal whispered.

“Looks like it. Look at Oz!” Buggy whispered back.

“How are the spirits faring?” Mendel asked Oz. He looked to the space where the spirits were supposed to be. “Do not collide with anyone, I must keep you separate.” He lifted his hand and did a slight motion, pulling a spirit away from another.

“Oh jeez, they’re going nuts,” Oz said. “They’re excited. They can’t get out past the salt, so that’s good.”

“Can you see anything?” Clive asked Rascal.

“No…” The spirits weren’t visible to anyone other than Oz and Mendel, it seemed.

“Calm down, you lot. I will have to divide you all into two groups: those who wish to come back to the physical world, and those who wish to rest in peace.” Mendel leaned over the table, yet never dared to move past the saltwater ring. “Oz, I cannot hear the spirits, can you communicate with them?”

“Uh... I can hear ‘em! Let me see if they can hear me…” Oz tilted his head and looked to the crowd of spirits darting around rapidly around the circle. “Hey, if you can hear me say hello!” A few moments of silence followed afterwards. He looked to Mendel. “Yeah, they can hear me.”

“Amazing!” Mendel jumped up a bit, restraining himself from clapping his hands together due to the fact it’d probably drag all the spirits with them. “Please help me pick out those who want to be brought back.”

“Okay, gotcha.” Oz turned to the ring of spirits. “Everyone listen up! Stop flying around everywhere! It’ll be alright!” He tapped his chin pensively. “Okay, uh… everyone who wants to come back to life come to my hand right here! Be sure not to run into anybody or else…” Oz glanced to Mendel. “...Or else what?”

“It would fuse them back together. It is an absolute pain in the rear to pull them back apart in their soul forms. It is possible, but I would rather make things easier for myself right now.”

“You heard the man! Steer clear of each other and come over here!” Oz raised his hand and held it near the edge of the ring farthest to the right. Mendel watched in awe.

“Thank you so much. They actually listened to you.”

Oz leaned closer to the spirits. “Huh? I can’t hear you.” He blinked. “Yeah, right here. Uh….This side over here is for whoever just wants to die and stuff. Like, for real. Whoever wants to rest in peace go to my left hand holding up the two fingers.” Oz held out his other hand to the far left and stuck out two fingers, just to clarify it a bit more.

“Who’s in which side?” Mari asked.

“For the rest in peace side it’s the Veteran lady, the Doctor, the Mafioso, and the Godfather. Everyone who’s up for living is...Gene, Apoccy, Farrow, Skuggy, the Sheriff, the Tracker, his daughter, and the Survivor.” Oz looked up to Mendel for confirmation.

“Alright. I’ll get the others sent out to rest first--ah, damn it, get away from each other!” Mendel struggled with a soul who was diving directly for another on the opposite side of the ring. He managed to separate them and hold them back.

“The heck was that about?” said Mari.

“These two are going for each other’s necks,” explained Oz, watching them carefully. “At the worst possible time, of course. Save it for another time, you two! Get back into your spots!”

“Thank god they avoided fusing. A terribly unstable one, that would be.” Mendel took one hand, the one to the left side, and raised it, fingers curling in towards him as he began to spiel another ritual in the unidentifiable language. His eyes averted to look down at the spirits, fluttering his fingers in thought as the words spilled from his mouth, and the ring of saltwater began to glow with a gradually brightening ray of red light.

“Let these souls rest in peace, let them finally cross the line separating us mortals from the land beyond, and may they have the undisturbed rest they have deserved from the start.” He stuck his hand into the ring of spirits, briefly grazing over the spirits with his finger tips, and then flicked his hand to the sky. A bright red light encompassed the room. Everyone shielded their eyes or turned away from the source. The sound of multiple souls letting out their final breaths chilled the air.

Finally the light cleared and it appeared that nothing had changed, but Mendel and Oz knew otherwise.

“Hey, it worked! They’re gone!” Oz exclaimed.

“Wonderful!” Mendel’s eyes squinted up, hinting at a big smile underneath his mask. “Now for the second part, getting everyone all distributed into their own bodies. This is...the more difficult part. Can everyone make some room?” Everyone watching retreated into the corners of the lab save for Mari and Oz. “Thank you.”

Mendel lowered his left hand and now lifted his right. The foreign words escaped his lips once more, but this one was more drawn out. He took the red string loosely into his right hand and graced his hand over from the spirits to the body, brushing over certain parts of the Juggernaut’s body as he murmured his spell, connecting them to the spirits. “Bring these souls back into the light, return to them the vessel in which they each individually arrived from safe and sound for me. Bless us with their presence once again, and may they continue to traverse the earth safely.” He cast a hand out and extended his hand, eyes widening. “The dead will walk once more under my words!” A bright flash of light shone out again directly following his last words, and everyone gasped and looked away. This one was brighter than before, and lasted for much longer. “Oh, God!” Mendel cried in the midst of the light. The sound of bones snapping and morphing together filled the air, along with a strange high pitched whine, like one you’d hear on an old TV.

When the light finally cleared after a period of waiting, there was a pile of townies lying in front of the table, all scattered amongst themselves. They were all fully clothed, although they were missing any accessories such as coats, gloves, or glasses. Mendel nearly collapsed over the table, but held himself up with his arms, still not allowing himself to cross the salt line. Mari ran to him and held him up as well, but her eyes were glued to the sudden abundance of people lying before them.

“Holy shit, it actually worked.” Buggy sat there awestruck, much like everyone else watching on.

“Mendel, are you alright?” Ophelia asked from the back of the room.

“I’m fine,” Mendel grit. “I have never used that much magic in a single go. It drained a lot from me.” He stood himself up and ran to the newly summoned survivors. He found Farrow first, and placed two fingers against his neck. There was a pulse. “Oh goodness.” He did the same to Gene, and to Apoccy, and to Skuggy. He checked up on the Survivor and the Sheriff, to little Sarah as well, and they all had steady pulses. “They are all fine. Just unconscious.” He looked to the small crowd of friends watching him. Buggy already began to stand and hurry to him, but Mendel held up a hand, eyes slowly reverting back from red to their normal white color. “I advise you don’t approach them yet. I will spread them up and they shall awaken on their own accord.” He looked down. “I think, however...I think that, if they would be comfortable with you doing so, you should make sure all of their parts are in the right place. We do not want any extra arms on a person.” He began dragging everyone away from each other, and Mari joined in.

Buggy, Rascal, and Clive exchanged bewildered looks.

“That really happened, didn’t it?” Rascal said.

“Wait.” Mendel froze. He set down the Sheriff he was dragging away and ran to the table. “There’s still more spirits.” The Juggernaut had shifted back to its original form, albeit a slight bit smaller. “Why are there still more spirits?” Oz tilted his head to listen to them.

“...They want to stay.”

“...Stay where? In their physical forms? I could do the ritual again.”

“No, no...they...they say they want to stay in the Juggernaut.” Mendel paused.

“...Why? They must know that if they were to stay in the Juggernaut, they would not be able to kill anyone. Ever. Unless it’s for the general safety of others.” He placed a finger to his chin. “...Well, the town would kill us if they were to cause any more deaths. They would just have to be...fused. Forever.”

“They say that it’s okay with them.”

“But...why? I do not think I understand…”

Oz sat and listened for a bit to the spirits. He looked solemn as he heard their words, and when they had finished he nodded.

“They say that they want to give it a shot. For their whole lives they were pretty much all solitary. Basically, their lives sucked. But while they were in the fusion...it took awhile for them to get used to it, but it felt like they had purpose. They felt like working together brought them together, I guess.” Oz tilted his head and rest it against his arms. “They were acting out because they were scared. But when you reached out for them, they felt loved. They don’t want to throw that away.” He looked up to Mendel, who stood silently listening to them. “And on the Plaguebearer’s side of the story, when they were alive they felt miserable all the time due to the plague that was slowly eating away at them, but when they were in the Juggernaut, they felt completely fine. They don’t want to die, but they don’t want to be alive in their old body, y’know?” Mendel nodded.

“Yes. I understand.”

“They want to know if they’d ever be able to unfuse later on if they end up realizing it isn’t for them, but otherwise, they’re fine with staying as the Juggernaut.”

“...Yes, yes. Yes, that’s...completely fine with me.” Mendel stood up straight, a spark of life reflected in his eyes. “I-I would be totally fine with that, yes. I just need to rebond the souls with the body and they would be all set.”

“Cool beans!” Oz smiled. “The four seem pretty happy about it.”

“Who are the spirits again?”

“The Werewolf, the Serial Killer, the Plaguebearer, and the Arsonist.” Mendel smiled.

“Alright. That sounds fun. I will begin that ritual right away.” He looked to Oz. “Help Mari separate the others while I do so. The lights will not come back on until I am completely one-hundred percent done with the ritual, okay?”

“Gotcha!”

#( i can't believe i actually managed to get to this part! )#( i'm so happy and proud of myself and proud of everyone else for managing to stick with me until the very end )#( this isn't the end though )#( it's more like falling action )#( you'll know when it's done )#( nothing else crazy is gonna happen though like deaths or whatever though so you can let out that breath )#txt #night #writing #art #img #( god i hope everything is written correctly here if there's any typoes i might as well die )#post

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theswiftarmy · 4 years ago

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#29 - What Is The Time, You Ask? Why, The Time Is 4/4, Of Course.

“What do we do now?” Scott asked.

Carl Lawyer spoke in a steadfast tone his words like stone. “As your attorney I advise you to find a very fast car with no top. And you’ll need a tape recorder for special music… and Acapulco shirts.”

“Hmmm… What kind of special music?” Scott Borchetta replied, this time in a Hunter S. Thompson voice. Or, perhaps it was more of a Johnny Depp voice interpreting the character of Raoul Duke as written by the various writers who reworked the screenplay based on the original story as penned by Hunter S. Thompson, it’s hard to say. That’s the thing with art, with all art, there’s no way to know if the version you’re seeing is the original genesis, THE very first iteration, or if it is a sample, a cover of the original, an echo, an art echo, an archo. And how do YOU know any creative thought was yours to begin with, or were you exposed to an archo yourself and from you a new art echo, a new iteration of the same reverberation is coming through you, like a virus infecting and then replicating before it’s passed on to the next person to repeat the chain of exposure and replication, and maybe including a slight mutation giving it that newness, reworking the existing to create something new from the original art echo. An echo of art. Archo.

READ IN A ‘JOHNNY DEPP AS RAOUL DUKE’ VOICE (this is the Johnny Depp in spirit, the Johnny Depp before he ever met Amber Heard, the Johnny Depp before the news broke, when he was still most likely hung up on Winona Ryder, when he would still hear a song that reminded him of her, of a life long gone, and perhaps that song ends, and a new song begins that reminds him of Kate Moss, or any of his other lovers, every lover has a song or two… and sometimes when you hear the song, your brain says, I don’t know what to do, I just can’t get rid of you): When foul things are afoot you’d better watch your step and when you have to watch every step, it’s hard to focus on anything else. The voice you hear could be any voice, or every voice. ‘What voice, there’s a voice?’ you ask yourself. Well? IS there? Don’t just stand there all day, man, answer the question! When you try to recollect it later, all you remember are the words, or the emotion as it hit you right smack in the middle of the amygdala. The intonation of the voice can become whatever you want it to become when you recall it from memory as long as it fits in with the proper emotional response. That’s all that matters. Or maybe instead of the proper emotional response, you just laugh, and laugh, and laugh. Of course, only a madman or madwoman would be laughing a time when matters are meant to be serious. They would have to be mad, well, mad or seriously under the influence of something spectacular.

RESUME NORMAL VOICE:

“What kind of special music, you ask? I’ll explain later, I suggest we get the heck out of LA. And we’re going to have to arm ourselves, to the teeth, megaphones should do the trick, we’ll need one for each of us.” Carl pointed at everyone individually moving his index finger like a sprinkler slowly spraying a thirsty patch of lawn. In his mind he was doing the sprinkler dance with his entire body but all everyone saw was his index finger inching its way around to everyone. He had a fleeting feeling like he was 22 again; it came like a flash of lightning, or a shooting star, gone as soon as it was there. It was that very quick moment when you hear a song you first heard all those years ago, that song you listened to over and over again at 19, and again in your 20s, and again in your 30s, and you think… the first star I see may not be a star, isn’t that what you said, isn’t that what you thought this song meant? Every song means whatever it means to the person listening to it. It is what makes our music experience so unique. One person’s skipped song on a playlist is another’s repeat. Two very different emotions from the same song. ‘I hate this song’, says one person thinking of the last time they heard the song, ‘I love this song’, says another thinking of the first time they heard it.

Scott nodded. He stared at the sky. “It’s awfully quiet in LA tonight.”

“Yeah. I noticed that too.” Carl looked around then up at the sky, catching a glimpse of a shooting star. It was there, and then gone, so quickly that it may not have been there at all.

Wind rushed down the street blowing through them and then kicking up a plastic bag. It hung in the air for just a moment displaying the glimpse of a logo before falling close to the ground. Suddenly it was pulled back into the air, as though someone were carrying it, overly excited about their new purchase. The bag was a shopping bag, but not just any old shopping bag, it was from a specialty-clothing boutique of some sort. A Beverly Hills type of shopping experience, the sort of place you get the latest fashion and the finest apparel.

“That’s weird.” Kymmie said in a soft voice, she held her journal up to the street lamp trying to get a better look, ignoring the shopping bag as it danced in the wind gliding just over her shoulder, an electric hum noise whirled through the air, it too carried by the wind. It danced and weaved with the wind down the street and then joined the boutique shopping bag in a graceful waltz like two lovers dancing under the streetlights. And then, the electric hum and bag vanished in the distance, gone with the wind.

“What is it?” Her dad asked.

“I swear I had this playlist in a different order.” She held up the journal inspecting the words. They seemed… alive.

“Well, you wrote them down Swiftly—”

“Did you just say I wrote them down Swiftie?” Kymmie looked up at her dad, she was sure she heard him say Swiftie. “No I said you wrote them down Swiftly.”

“Oh.” Kymmie looked back to the journal. There was just something about it, and maybe because she wasn’t used to looking at paper, what a strange backdrop for content to cling to, no backlight, nothing illumining the words and images. I mean, sure she’s used it before on a couple of occasions. Her dad taught her how to write with pen and paper. She always thought it was so silly, who would EVER want to use pen and paper unless you were someone from ‘the olden days’? But… with her phone busted and given that all the cell phone stores were closed, or everything seemed closed at the moment, there was something more about this book—the imperfections of the paper, the tiny imperfections on the page hiding behind the words sitting there staring back. Maybe her eyes were playing tricks on her. Paper. It’s just so peculiar. She reached out to touch it like she would the screen of a tablet; she felt her finger against the rough surface. It was so different from a digital screen. She pushed her finger into the paper and felt it give a little. She pressed her nail into the paper. She smiled at the slight indent left behind. She scribbled a little something just for the heck of it. Something in the margin, and it was magic. She knew how to write with old-fashioned pen and paper, and she was a natural too! I mean, how many other kids at her school could actually write with real pen and paper? She recalled a day when she told some of her friends about how her dad gave her lessons and they made fun of her for it, they made fun of her because her dad had taught her what they had told her was ‘such a useless skill’. Yeah, well who cares what any of them think, this journal was the only thing saving her life right now, and the only way to use it meant putting the pen to the paper. And that made it the most useful skill she’d ever learned from anyone in her entire life.

“Does anyone else feel weird? Like, strange?” Billie asked.

Kymmie looked up from the journal but didn’t say anything.

“Yeah. Like… My mind feels Tiffany Twisted.” Justin answered rubbing the sides of his forehead as if he had a bad headache, he now had two earworms inside his head, the old one from Selena and the new one from Taylor, or, maybe it wasn’t Taylor, but it was certainly Taylor’s music that was used. If it wasn’t Taylor that used her own music to insert a new earworm, then who was it and what kind of earworm was inside Justin, or inside all of them? What kind of art had they been exposed to? Perhaps it was an art exposure of unknown origins. Had they all been infected? If so, then where did it come from? A Trojan art earworm. What a strange and curious concept, Trojan art… taking someone else’s art and adding another layer to it, something subliminal, something you wouldn't even know is there unless you inspected it very, very closely, like looking for imperfections behind the printed words on the page of a paperback book. It was only a matter of time until they started dancing to that beat. A Coachella of the mind… Synchronized together like a giant world wide line dance… or global drum circle…

“You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave…” Billie said back. She wasn’t sure if she’d been infected. She felt… strange… Normal, but strange. New. New normal. Except… something else was inside their heads.

“You can Swiftie any time you like, but you can never leave…” Justin sang.

“Did you just say you can Swiftie any time you like but you can never leave?” Billie asked.

“Yeah.” Justin replied.

They laughed for a moment. A slow and hazy laugh, a blurred lines laugh, a double vision laugh, a relaxed heavy breathing laugh, a slow motor response laugh, laughing the laugh of someone else laugh, the under the influence ‘I love YOOOOOOUUUUUUUU’ laugh.

“I just want to say that Bad Guy would have sounded amaaaaaaaaazing coming through those speakers, that literal wall of surround sound would have been fantastic. Finneas would approve. Speaking of Finneas, where is he?”

“I don’t know.” Scott replied to her question.

“I mean, really, it was more of a hallway of sound than a wall of sound.” Kymmie commented, rewinding the conversation back a few seconds. “Or a tunnel of sound. You know, like the tunnel of love, but this was sound.”

Billie looked at her. “You really do make the oddest observations.”

“Can we take our headphones off now?” Kymmie asked, turning to Oak Felder, changing the subject off of her own odd observations.

“Yeah, I think it’s safe.” Oak removed his headphones and everyone but Justin took their headphones off too.

“Here, try these on.” Will B. handed a pair of small sleek looking ear buds to Justin.

“Oh wow. These are so much better! No offense Oak. But these are a pretty sleek upgrade over those old clunkers.” He pushed the small Airpod looking buds in his ears. “Whoa…” They seemed to grow and mold to fit the contour of his inner ear.

Oak reached out his hand and took Justin’s old headphones from him. “None taken. Whatever works for you.” Though Oak didn’t have any reason not to trust Will, he felt overly okay with the fact that a complete stranger they only just met was simply handing things out all willy-nilly. Justin didn’t seem like the kind of guy to take anything from anyone and stick it in his ears, but there was zero hesitation from Justin, which, under normal circumstances may have played out differently. Then again, they weren’t exactly in normal circumstances right now, everything at the moment was new, new normal, norm noodle. Normally new, so what can you do? “I’ll hang on to these, just incase.” Oak opened up a backpack and placed the old headphones safely between a Shure SM57 and a Shure SM58 microphone.

“What do you hear?” Kymmie asked.

“The sweet sound of silence. Thanks Will B.” Justin smiled and held a hand out to shake Will’s hand.

Will smiled as he shook hands with Justin. “And they connect via Bluetooth to all 12 of your cell phones.”

“Cool! You’re a lifesaver.” Justin stopped for a moment to think, he looked incredulously at Will B, “How did you know I had 12 phones?”

William simply smiled at Justin and for some reason Justin was okay with that as a response. Without new normal it would have been creepy but in their current situation, minds and emotions altered, it was comforting. It felt like the person who pays it forward at the coffee shop and smiles awkwardly at you, like they know you, but in actuality they don’t, they just have a welcome smile. And in that moment you know each other… and if a song is playing, sometimes that moment can live forever each time you hear that song, again, and again, and again, you think of that person that one single moment in time you crossed paths in life.

Justin’s enjoyment of a moment of silence seemingly spread to the others. One by one the conversations flickered out like candles burning the last of their wicks until they stood in the street taking in the quiet. Just, listening to the sound of Los Angeles sleeping, just like Sleeping Beauty. A bite out of the Apple infected with a Swiftie spell, and now, the sweet sound of silence… Not a single car, or bus or bicycle or… Scooter. No plane overhead. No train. Nothing but silence on the brain. Zen. They reached out and held hands in a circle. They took in the moment. Everyone closed their eyes.

“What time is it?” Kymmie asked, breaking the silence.

“4/4.” Justin checked the time and held up one of his phones. Then he started to check his other phones; where the clock time would normally be displayed as hours and minutes, instead, all of them said 4/4.

“That’s not a time.” She said sassily back at Justin.

“Sure it is… 4/4, 4 beats in a measure.” Oak Felder answered her.

“Just a second, everyone, let me see your phones…” Carl asked. “Hold them up.”

“Everyone’s phone says 4/4.” Oak observed.

Carl looked at his own phone, “I was so busy worrying about getting a signal and preoccupied with the SMPTE error I didn’t even notice the time.”

“Common time.” Scott stated looking up from his own phone.

Carl replied back, “Does anyone have service?”

Their responses were serial, one, then the next. “No—nope—me either—uh uh.” Someone pointed to the small space where a signal status icon would show, “Mine just says S…M…P…T…E.. Error” They showed everyone. “Mine too!” Two others replied in unison. Someone else tried to pounce the acronym as a word, “Smip-tee!”

“It’s pronounced simp-tee”. Carl said correcting everyone and they nodded back.

“But look, there’s another number, and each one is different.” Lizzo held her phone close.

“Tempo!” Billie bellowed.

“Same time signature different tempo. Maybe that’s why it took us different amounts of time to get through the wall of sound? To show up… here… Wherever HERE is…” Scott suggested.

“It was more of a tunnel than a wall.” Kymmie corrected.

“Okay, well, whatever you want to call it.” Scott continued, “It’s like a whale song moving through water instead of music moving through air. We all just moved at different speeds.”

Billie Eilish eyed Scott Borchetta and thought to herself, what do you mean by that ‘whale songs through water’ comment? Maybe that means something, she wondered. Maybe he knows something more about all this then he’s letting on.

“Why are we all on different tempos?” Kymmie asked disrupting Billie’s ‘whale song through water’ thought. She pulled out her own phone and saw that the time signature and tempo had also changed on her phone, everything else remained frozen, but she too had her own tempo slightly different from the others, even though the time signature was the same, they were all on their own tempo, some a little faster, and some a little slower.

“Something has changed.” Carl looked around at the group. “We need to get out of here.”

Okay HE definitely knows something, Billie thought, looking at Carl. Everyone knows more than they’re telling everyone else. Her eyes moved between them—one person to the next. It’s like a giant game of poker, she had to look for the ‘tell’, everyone has a ‘tell’, just like in poker.

Kymmie and Billie caught eyes then Kymmie looked up at Will. “Will, can you help us get out of here?”

He nodded back at her with a small smile but didn’t say a word.

Maybe Kymmie doesn’t know anything, she just seems so innocent, Billie thought, it just seemed that even if she were told something by her dad Carl, Billie was pretty certain Kymmie wouldn’t truly understand it. All Kymmie knew was if she posted lots of cool things on social media, she might get famous. Okay, true, I’m not much older than her, Billie thought, and teens are smarter than adults give them credit for, that’s why she loved her brother so much, he treated her like she was an equal and not a know-nothing young punk, but… Kymmie just seemed, more naive than most. There was just something about her, like she hadn’t yet been through anything bad in life. She just radiated this joy, like everything was new and cool and fun and interesting and nothing she could ever encounter in the future had a dark side to it. Kymmie was just so… innocent.

“Hey Dad. What’s going to happen next?” Kymmie Lawyer asked her dad Carl Lawyer. But she said it in a way as if someone were asking what happens next while watching a movie and eating a tub of freshly popped popcorn, or being read a book, not the way someone who was actually in the situation themselves might ask.

“No one really knows… “ He replied to her and everyone else in a very ‘matter-of-fact’ tone, “All we can do is get out of here now, we’ll figure things out later, form a new plan. There’s nothing we can do now. If there’s something in the music, it’s out in the world now like rain in the atmosphere, wet as possible. But, I get the feeling, based on Oak’s findings that it always has been in the world, just like rain. It’s just getting stronger, more potent. Each loop embedded within a song, sampled, sang over or rapped over... Each new remix, samples layered on top of one another, each new version of recording software, each new instrument created, new synth and sampler, new computer software and FX plugin, each new style of music brings us one step closer to singularity of song. Or, as it’s called in the classified files, songularity.”

“Songularity?” Kymmie echoed the word as a question.

“Yes.” Her dad replied. “It’s…”

“…When all music sounds the same.” Oak finished Carl’s sentence.

“Exactly. Well, not exactly, but, yes. That’s the basic idea. It’s based on the idea of a perpetual number one hit single, I haven’t mentioned this before, but I think it’s time… my legal side hustle is representing a secret group of musicians researching to find out what makes someone put a song on repeat. They’ve code named the research project ‘Want Another Play’, or WAP for short. They have been layering and analyzing songs and samples to find out what makes someone hooked to a song. It seems that if you loop a vocal sample and rap over it, there’s a very high chance of WAPablity. WAP seems to occur more frequently with looped vocal samples than with looped instruments. But we’re not entirely sure why that is yet.”

“How many people are working on this?” Oak asked.

Carl turned to Oak and responded directly like addressing a witness on the stand, “A lot. It’s an arms race to find a song that will stream forever. There’s a lot of money in a song that gets millions of plays… Every. Single. Day… Forever. Make a WAP, and you’re set. The cash flows in, perpetually. Every single day everyone will want another play of the song. You might say it’s what dreams are made of… with that kind of cash you could spend your days skateboarding down the highway listening to Fleetwood Mac and drinking Ocean Spray cranberry juice every day, all day…”

“Dad. Why would anyone with all the money in the world skateboard all day drinking Ocean Spray?” Kymmie asked.

“Why not?” Carl answered back.

“That’s what you have a question about?” Lizzo questioned Kymmie. “Out of everything he just said, you ask about THAT?”

“Well, I already know about all the other stuff.” Kymmie smiled, then turned to her dad. “Also, what’s a Fleetwood Mac? Is it, like, a kind of mac and cheese?”

Everyone shook their heads and rolled their eyes.

“It’s music from the olden days.” Carl said back.

Kymmie thought for a moment and then opened her journal to write something down.

Scott shifted his stance. “We’ve got to get to the helipad. We don’t know what was just broadcast into the world by Taylor Swift, or what just happened, or heck, even what is going on right now. Like Carl said, if there’s special music in the atmosphere, it’s too late now, it’s Everywhere. But I think it’s best if we get out of here, and quick. Come along… we better make a start.”

Billie Eilish started to sing as they walked through the ghost town that Los Angeles seemed to be in the moment, “Something’s happening… happening to me… my friends say I’m acting peculiarly… come along baby… we better make a start… better make it soon before you break my heart…. Ohhhhh I… I wanna be with you everywhere…”

@taylorswift

#taylorswift

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duskfloret · 7 years ago

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ALL GEMSTONE ASKS FOR PYRRHA

「 ♔ enough gems to last a lifetime ❞ @rcmcdium & @therapcn / accepting. 」

abalone: what kind of situations compromise my muse emotionally

If her father came back into her life somehow, that’d really rustle her jimmies. Anything to do with him gives her anxiety, so being faced with him directly… yeah. She gets nightmares when she’s anxious, and she wouldn’t sleep well for awhile, and she’d just make it worse by not talking to anyone about it.

aegerine: my muse’s opinion of the supernatural

She knows it’s real: she’s met gods and has been reincarnated, so of course she doesn’t disbelieve that such things exist. That said, she’s not well versed and doesn’t know much about it. She knows mythology, but nothing about magic or psychic powers or anything like that because that stuff generally can’t be found in library books (and what can be is questionable). On one hand, she’s curious, but on the other hand, she’s not curious enough to seek it out.

agate: how my muse calms down

She drinks tea and pets her cat! Watching stand-up comedy or reading books both help as well or looking at the stars. More than anything else, though, she’s comforted by physical affection. Hugs, a pat on the head or shoulder, having a hand to hold, whatnot. Unless she’s worked up because she’s angry, that’s a pretty surefire to calm her nerves. If she’s angry (though she doesn’t get angry often), she doesn’t like being touched. In that case, she’d rather be left alone to do breathing exercises or something.

blue lace agate: my muse’s favorite form of communication (verbal, letters, texting, etc.)

Though she’d love to go back to the days on penpals and letter-writing, she likes physical communication the best. She’s a physical person in general, especially when it comes to being affectionate. Honestly, she doesn’t put too much stock in words, so actions are more effective when someone wants her to know that their feelings are genuine. Besides, being sappy and voicing her affection often just embarrasses her.

fire agate: if my muse is brave or cowardly

It depends entirely on the situation! She’s not afraid of stuff like haunted houses or horror movies, and most people don’t faze her even the slightest bit, but she always froze up and got nervous (or scared) when it came to her father, and she gets upset with herself for being so cowardly around him. It’s an entirely reasonable response, but good luck telling her that. Overall, though, she’s quite brave! Maybe a little too much sometimes.

moss agate: if my muse has a high or low opinion of themself

Her opinion of herself fluctuates. A lot. And it’s always either very high or very low–there is no in between. Some days, she’s very proud of herself and her writing and everything she’s done and she’s pleased with how cute she is and all, while other days she laments that none of that ultimately matters and people only like her for superficial reasons and stuff like that. She stays on the positive side most of the time, but when the negative hits, it hits hard.

amazonite: what kind of situations call for my muse to be dishonest

Well, she’s a writer and has been in several plays, so putting on a mask isn’t terribly difficult. Aside from respectable situations like that, though, she hides anything that has to do with her past life (if keeping it a secret counts as being dishonest), and she’ll often put on a smile and hide how she truly feels. She’d rather bottle things up than talk about them, which is not good for anyone.

amethyst: what my muse would most like to be able to shape-shift into

A cat! Cats are adorable and people love them, so she’d definitely be a cat. She’d also get to do nothing and get fed for it. It’s a great situation all around.

ammolite: how lucky or unlucky my use is

She doesn’t really believe in luck, but in most situations, she’d be considered lucky. In terms of stuff she’s done while helping with plays (whether she’s in the play or behind the scenes), goofing off with friends, or anything like that, she’s pulled plenty of stunts that could’ve gone wrong, but she’s never been hurt doing it. But while she’s a tad reckless, she keeps it within reason and knows the limits of what she can do without getting hurt.

In terms of her parents and the people she’s lost? Yeah, she’s not so fortunate in that regard.

angel aura quartz: my muse’s opinion of LGBT+ issues

As someone who’s bi and genderfluid (though she mostly refers to herself as female), she’s in full support of equal rights. That said, she disagrees with anyone who bashes straight or cisgendered people in an attempt to “accomplish” something. It’s just ignorant. She just thinks that everyone, regardless of what they like or how they view themselves, should be treated equally. One sexuality isn’t any better than the others.

apache tears: a sadness headcanon

She gets sad if she spends too much time alone. She’s prone to touch-starvation and loneliness, which makes her appreciate her companions so much more. It’s been better since getting a cat, though! Purrseus is very affectionate towards her, so she’s never lacking.

apatite: a headcanon about my muse’s intuition

Her intuition is a pretty solid eight or nine out of ten! Not the best, but certainly better than most people’s. She’s a good judge of character and good at telling if someone’s dishonest or untrustworthy, but she doesn’t get it right all the time either.

apophyllite: my muse’s religious/spiritual beliefs

Hellenistic polytheism! She believes that other gods exist too, but she has no connection to them like she does the Greek gods.

aquamarine: where my muse feels most calm/relaxed

Probably anywhere she can see the night sky. Preferably with either a cat, a book, a companion, or all of the above. She hecking loves stars, bro.

biotite: the biggest problems my muse is currently dealing with

School, mostly. Keeping up her grades and worrying about her future is a lot of stress.

bloodstone: how my muse sees themself as part of the world at large

Thinking about that is Stressful™ because does she have a place? Does her life mean anything at all, or is she just going through the motions of living and nothing she does matters in the end? Much of her poetry and stories revolve around the subject because writing about it helps her sort out her thoughts and not be so anxious about it.

calcite: my muse’s social tendencies (introverted vs extroverted, parties vs one-on-one conversations, etc.)

She’s very outgoing and social. Whether or not she likes parties depends on what kind. Wild college parties? No, no. Classy parties where everyone’s having fun in a responsible manner? Sign her up. She also loves one-on-one conversation and hanging out in groups.

carnelian: an art-related headcanon

She’s decent at drawing, but most of her experience comes from doodling in her notebooks at school. It’s something she wants to get better at, maybe take a class for, but she has yet to get around to it. Maybe once her class schedule clears up to a point where she can afford to take more electives.

celestite: how my muse deals with anxiety

She doesn’t. She sort of just lets it simmer until she breaks down and starts crying, and then she takes measures to calm herself down or, if it’s bad enough, reach out for help. It’s a terrible habit that she’s trying to break, but that’s much easier said than done.

chalcedony: the saddest my muse has ever been

After Blythe, Theon’s fiancee, died, no doubt. She was one of Pyrrha’s favourite people ever to exist (still is, actually), so losing her was just heartbreaking. For a while, she was depressed and unmotivated (which is why Theon promised to get her a cat if she graduated on time and on the honour roll: it gave her incentive to keep her grades up). She figured out how to cope with the loss, but of course, it still makes her sad.

chalcopyrite: how my muse deals with ending relationships

She’s never actually been in a relationship. On a few dates, yeah, but nothing that ever amounted to anything. In those cases, the spark just fizzled out. If she were ever in a situation where she wants to break off a relationship, she’d be mature about it. Sit down, have a talk, whatever,

charoite: who my muse looks up to

She has a never-ending amount of respect for her aunt and cousin! They did more to raise her than either of her actual parents ever did, and they’ve always been there to comfort and support her when she needed help. Hell, they’ve both welcomed her to live in their homes at different points in time because they just want what’s best for her, and she doesn’t think she could possibly repay them for all they’ve done–and all they continue to do! She tries her best to support them through hardships the same way they’ve supported her because honestly, she would’ve turned out a lot worse if not for them.

chrysocolla: a money-making headcanon

She wishes teachers made better money, and yet. Her plan is to write on the side–self-publish books and poetry collections–to make a little extra. Who knows? Maybe she’ll make a lot extra.

copper: how I think my muse will end up when they’re older

At some point, she’ll finally decide to sort herself out and actually work out her problems instead of ignoring (or just writing about) them. I doubt it’ll take her more than a year or so from now to get started on that, honestly.

coral: how my muse views the natural world

Nature is the best! She loves being around nature! It’s serene and peaceful. On the list of things she wants to do but hasn’t gotten around to: camping. She just hasn’t because her aunt and cousin aren’t really into it.

diamond: a sex headcanon

She is absolutely not shy when it comes to talking or making jokes about sex. It’s a natural thing that many people engage in, so why be so squeamish about it? In her current life, she’s not that experienced (she’s slept with a grand total of one person), but in her past one, she had nine kids, so? Nothing really new to her.

Another thing is that she pretty much just views it as a more intense form of affection, and being a physical person, she certainly enjoys it… but only with people she trusts. Honestly, if any of her Good Friends™ (acquaintances and casual friends not included) propositioned her, there’s an eighty percent chance she’d sleep with them. But that’s not something she really thinks about often, and though she finds her friends attractive, she’s not necessarily attracted to them.

dolomite: a sleep headcanon

She sleeps well overall, but she’s prone to the ocassional nightmare, especially when she’s anxious about something. Or, alternatively, she goes awhile without incident, then she has a nightmare, and it causes anxiety because now she’s thinking about everything that could go wrong in life. Cue existential crisis.

emerald: how my muse tells someone they love them without words

Affection! Hugs! Paying attention to their needs! Making them tea! Pyrrha is just Full of Love™ and gives it out like candy to anyone she cares about.

fluorite: what my muse’s room looks like

Her walls are white and the carpet is beige, but there are a lot of decorations. On one wall, she has a dry erase / messenger board surrounded by different poems she’s written (just printed out and hung with push pins), another is almost entirely covered by bookshelves (with books and knick knacks and everything in between), another by pictures, and the last is pretty much her closet and door, and she’s stuck a bunch of glow in the dark stars to her ceiling (arranged in proper constellations, of course). Her favourite bed sheets are pink with stars on them.

fossil: what my muse’s dream job is

A college professor but with a decent salary.

galena: what it’s like to be in a relationship with my muse

It’s more or less like being friends with her, but she’s more open to talking about her past and her feelings.

garnet: what my muse’s perfect partner would be

As long as it’s someone she loves and can have fun with, she isn’t picky.

gold: my muse’s financial situation

She’s broke personally, but Theon supports her by buying the groceries and paying the bills and all that. It’s convenient for him because he can’t cook or do chores, and having her around is nicer than paying a maid. Not that he has anything against maids, he just loves having his little sis around.

hematite: how squeamish my muse is

Not very! She’s seen a lot; however, without her memories of her past life, she’d be a little squeamish just because most of what she’s seen was as Perseus.

hiddenite: how much of an “inner child” my muse has

While she tends to act like she’s a child at heart, she doesn’t have much of an inner child. Her experiences in both her past and present lives have caused her to mature quickly

iolite: my muse’s drinking habits

Haha. The only drinking habit she has is to avoid alcohol completely.

jade: if my muse would ever cheat on a partner

Absolutely not. Cheating on people is gross. Even if the relationship were purely physical, she wouldn’t even consider cheating.

jasper: what my muse would be like as a parent

Funny but stern. She’d do her best to raise her kids to be good, responsible people who respect the world around them. Pay attention and spend time with them but not be overbearing.Since she knows how much it sucks to have bad parents, she would not be a bad parent because she doesn’t want her children to go through the same things she did.

kyanite: an anger headcanon

It’s hard to get her angry, but it’s not difficult to irritate her; however, if she mentions that something someone is doing bothers her and they still don’t stop, that gets her angry. On the list of things that annoy her: being overly familiar if she doesn’t know the person well enough, prying inter her business, being disrespectful (to her or anyone else), walking too slow…

lapis lazuli: where ‘home’ is to my muse

Theon’s apartment or her aunt’s house. Either of those places function as a home for her. The house she grew up in with her parents never held any special value or place in her heart.

lodestone: what kind of people gravitate towards my muse

She’s made most of her friends growing up via creative writing and theatre, so people with similar hobbies have always had a tendency to gravitate towards her more than others. Recently, she’s made a handful of friends who gravitated towards her for the whole reincarnation thing.

malachite: what my muse as a child thought they would be when they grew up

She’s always thought she was going to be either a teacher or an entertainer with writing as a hobby, and she wasn’t far off. At least, the way things are going, she’ll have been correct.

mica: what my muse views as their worst personality trait

Probably her tendency to hold grudges. She knows it’s not a good quality, and there aren’t many things people do that cause her to hold grudges, but still. She’s working on that.

moonstone: my muse’s opinions on outer space

Her passion? Check. Her comfort? Check. Pyrrha’s spent a lot of time looking up at the night sky and all the constellations and planets and anything else she could see, and she’s always found solace in it. The universe is so huge and expansive that one bad day isn’t going to make a difference, so making a big deal out of small problems is pointless. It’s also nice to think about how many other people look up at the sky and how she’s not alone in whatever she’s going through.

mother of pearl: if my muse tends to lift people up or bring them down

She does her best to lift them up! Even if she teases her friends relentlessly, she does what she can to make sure they’re happy and supported and all that good stuff. She likes when the people around her are content (the ones she cares about, at least).

nebula stone: how good my muse’s memory is

Better than average.

obsidian: which of the seven deadly sins my muse would be

Probably envy. It’s not a terrible issue, but she’s found herself jealous of people who a) aren’t reincarnations, b) are but don’t remember, or c) remember but it either doesn’t bother them or leads to a positive outcome. These are, of course, feelings she tries not to dwell on.

opal: how creative my muse is

Very! Her creativity is her pride and joy, and her writing has gotten many compliments since she started. She’s well known for being a top-tier writer of poetry, short stories, and plays. Everyone is razzle-dazzled by her ideas and execution.

pearl: a mental health headcanon

Theon keeps insisting that she see a therapist to sort through her emotional issues, but aside from a few sessions after his fiancee died, she has not complied with this idea. Some of her problems stem from stuff she can’t really talk about to begin with… well, she could talk about it, but she’s fairly certain she’d get committed if she did. Then again, she could talk about most of what bothers her and skirt around the reincarnation thing, but…

petalite: what my muse would do if they found a wallet on the street

She’s a good person, so she’d just take it to the nearest security office or police station and not touch any of the contents.

pyrite: a physical health headcanon

Her physical health is great! She gets a good amount of exercise between judo and generally goofing off, and she cooks healthy food for her and Theon. Aside from occasional bouts of lightheadedness and fainting growing up (something no one could figure out the cause of), she’s never had an issue with her physical health.

quartz: how my muse thinks other people see them

As an upbeat, sassy writer who’s wise beyond her years. And while that’s accurate, it’s also very superficial, and she doubts that there are many people who’d care to look any deeper.

rhodonite: if my muse prefers elegance or convenience

Convenience! She likes to look nice and have nice things, sure, but she’s not going to sacrifice time or comfort for something fancier than what she has.

rubellite: if my muse has any ‘triggers’ that inspire painful memories

The smell and taste of alcohol and being around drunk people! Wine and whiskey have the worst effect, since the former is what the driver who killed Theon’s fiancee had been drinking and the latter was her father’s drink of choice. She’s fine with alcohol if it’s contained–sitting in a bottle on a shelf, whatever–and she can’t smell it and no one’s actively drinking it.

ruby: a happiness headcanon

This topic will be written about more in depth later, but for now, the basics. Starting at about the time she was eight, she went through bouts where her memories of her past life became hazy and almost faded, though they never went away completely. These episodes lasted from a day to a week, and they were the cause of her lightheadedness and fainting (not that it could be diagnosed as such or she told anyone). They stopped happening when she was sixteen and Blythe died. After a lot of thought on the circumstances, she thinks the trigger was her being content with her life and the way things were going. As a child, she wouldn’t have cared about forgetting her past life, but now that it’s led to her making a good group of friends, she wouldn’t want to lose her connection to them.

sapphire: if everyone my muse knew was hanging off a cliff and they could only choose three to save, the rest certainly dying, who they would choose

Her aunt, Theon, and her cat, in that order. Everyone else is on their own. They’ll be missed.

serpentine: how my muse would seduce another [alt: how my muse makes their money]

She’s most definitely seduced someone via practicing lines for a play. When she was sixteen, she played the female lead in a school play, and there was a kissing scene between her and the male lead. They were practicing lines at his house and, suffice to say, things went a little beyond stage kissing (though not necessarily right away). That’s also the story of how she lost her virginity.

silver: if my muse prefers masculinity or femininity

For herself, she likes a nice balance, but she leans more towards femininity (partially why she just refers to herself as female rather than genderfluid even though the latter is more accurate) with her love of cute clothes and makeup. But it’s not something he places much importance on in general.

tsavorite: if my muse believes in destiny or fate

She does, but not in that it dictates every event that ever happens ever. She thinks it’s far more broad and not as intricate as people make it out to be, but she does believe it. After all, how else does she explain the good handful of Greek myths that’ve all been reincarnated around the same time? All in all, it’s certainly a romantic concept.

ulexite: how empathetic/sympathetic/compassionate my muse is

A lot! She cares about the people around her, even complete strangers, and will do what she can to help them out. Of course, this courtesy does not extend to anyone who has lost her respect in any way, which usually entails being a jerk to anyone. Just be nice and Pyrrha will support you.

unakite: what my muse’s ideal pet would be

A cat (Purrseus) who loves her as much as she loves him. That’s all she could ever want in life.

verdite: my muse’s ethnicity/family history

On her maternal side, her grandmother was Greek and her grandfather had… mixed heritage, from several different European countries, so she’s a fourth Greek and a blend of other stuff from that. Her father’s side of the family is mostly German with the occasion other nationality thrown into the mix.

zebra stone: what gets my muse excited

Talk to her about the stars, cats, mythology, her current writing project–all of that gets her excited! Also whatever shenanigans she’s been up to with her friends, literature, history, cooking shows…

zoisite: does my muse believe everything’s going to work out for them in the end or not?

She doesn’t know. It’d be nice if things did work out, but she doesn’t want to get her hopes up just to have them crushed. Especially since she’s befriended quite a few other reincarnations by now and it’s not like they have histories of everything turned out fine and dandy, and the thought that history repeats itself Terrifies™ her.

#rcmcdium #♔「 ooc ; ask 」even the stars are whispering to each other ❞#♡「 pyrrha ; about 」and like all lovers and sad people: i am a poet ❞#aaaaaaaaaaa #thank you for sending these!

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