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genshin-impact-unofficial · 1 year ago

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Naughty Little Secret Pt.2

Reactions of Genshin men finding your spicy literature.

Ft. Childe, Albedo, and Alhaitham (Aka blue eyed boy edition)

(PART 1) Ft. Diluc, Cyno, and Thoma (PART 3) Ft. Scaramouche, Itto, and Xiao

Tags: PG-13, Sexual Themes, GN!Reader, Technically SFW, Crushes, TW!Blood (Albedo) but it’s very mild, LOTS OF TEASING Notes: I swear my first time writing a character always turns out so long. I so appreciate everyone cheering me on tho! Feel free to send suggestions to my inbox! 💘(Repost!)

Childe

Spicy romance novels were your guilty pleasure. After a rough week at work, you deserved to sit back at Yanshang Teahouse and let the flow of words on the pages guide your imagination. You held your newest purchase in your hand and pondered if the cover art was a coincidence. Perhaps deep down, you subconsciously picked the book with a pretty ginger boy on the cover.

Tartagalia hadn’t visited Liyue in a while... and maybe there was a part of you that missed the tall handsome Snezhnayan boy just a tiny bit. You were a tad totally heartbroken when your friend departed from the harbor. He would come by your work quite often just to chat and whenever he had time to kill. Eventually, his company and charming words just became a part of your routine. It was impossible not to be dazzled by the boy’s abundant attention. But as time passed and you felt confident that you were completely over your little crush. You shook your head of those thoughts, it wasn’t important why you chose the book you did. You were here to enjoy yourself and you were hell bound to do just that.

The orange haired protagonist finds himself swept up in trouble much bigger than himself. To protect what’s dearest to him, he becomes a spy to an organization he holds no loyalty to. While behind enemy lines, he meets a girl who sees right through the mask he puts on. She not only figures out he’s a spy, but also sees his bleeding heart that has the ability to turn for the better. Your heart ached for the boy. The way he was stuck between his duties and who he loved made you feel endless sympathy for the protag. He had to betray one in the end to accomplish the other.

His mission was going to be completed in the morning. After that, he would never see the girl again. The handsome ginger spilled his feeling, laying himself out bare to the girl he loved. She knows, she always did, and she wanted to show him now on their last night. Emotions flood forward as their bodies tangle with one another. He wants her to feel his earnest passion. He wants to bring her joy, to bring her the happiness she deserved, to bring her pleasure... A low familiar whistle pulled your mind from the scene. No way...

“Huh, so this is what you do while I’m away...” A cheeky voice teased. You whipped your head to look at the widest shit eating grin that you’ve ever seen since.... well since he left.

“Tartagalia? What- When did you?” You were reeling and sputtered in surprise and embarrassment. You attempted redirect his attention and tuck the novel behind you as a last ditch effort to save your pride. But alas, Ajax was not known to be a merciful guy.

“Ah ah ah Y/N, I hadn’t got a good look at that last page. I just have to know about those ‘rippling abs’ mentioned.” Childe playfully reached behind you and snagged the book from your grip. You tried to swipe it back but his reflexes were too fast. “You don’t mind sharing right?”

“I’m serious give it back Childe!” You threatened, but it only spurred him further. He had a whole head up on you, and was talking full advantage of it. Childe held the book open above you and dramatically cleared his throat before reciting naughty lines from the passages. Your felt your face burn red in both embarrassment and now absolute fury.

This kid was so dead!

Albedo

There was urgency in your steps while you trekked through the snowy path. You visited Dragonspine enough times to know the beaten trail even when covered in fresh snow, but it was still your least favorite part of coming to the lab. If you had to list your favorite part, well...... your friend Albedo wasn’t exactly terrible to look at. You were glad to see him again so soon. Typically, you purposely spaced out your visits up the mountain, but when you received a letter asking for your assistance in a research matter you really couldn’t say no.

As junior librarian of the knights, you were tasked with dropping off books and other study material to Albedo’s lab. It’s a grueling task but the two of you got along very well so you were always happy to do it. That being said, you weren’t exactly a person of science and opted reading into history and arts most times. Through years of knowing Albedo, you had to set a clear cut boundary on being a test rat for the alchemist. So far he has respected your wishes, so you didn’t assume it was why he’d call you out here. The curiosity was almost as bad as the blistering cold hitting your nose. As soon as the light illuminating from the lab was in view, you rushed forward desperate for warmth.

“Y/N, I’ve been awaiting you.” Albedo greeted you kindly.

“Hey Albe-” The words died in your throat when you caught sight of your friend. The blond’s hair was free from its usual up-do, messy locks framed the boys handsome features and flowed over his shoulders. Albedo’s neat attire was now lax, his knightly accessories nowhere to be seen. What could be seen was the expanse of the alchemist’s collarbone since two additional buttons were undone on his dress shirt. Somehow even while fully clothed, it felt indecent to witness him like this. “Is... everything alright Albedo?” You asked, averting your eyes to keep from ogling your friend.

“Of course.” Albedo answered easily, his voice was low and sultry. “Please take a seat Y/N. I have something urgent that needs your eyes.” He directed you, cocking his head towards the small table. Your brain was short circuiting and all you could think to do was obediently sit. You had never seen the serious and calculated man like this but you weren’t exactly complaining either. Albedo served you a cup of hot tea and opted to lean against the table instead of sitting.

“So... um what did you need me to look at.” You asked awkwardly, unsure what to do with yourself.

“Well obviously I want you to look at me Y/N” A light smirk formed across Albedo’s lips and he smoothly leaned over your chair. Your eyes followed every single movement while your face quickly began to heat up. Where was all of this coming from? Should you be concerned?

“W- what do you mean by that?” You blurted out, mind racing a mile a minute.

“I want you to-” Everything came to a screeching halt when your chair, that Albedo had been leaning on, began to tilt backwards. Both you and blond were sent crashing to the ground, ruining any kind of mood that was building. Your head ached from where you bumped it but Albedo intentionally took the brunt of it, completely face-planting into the hard floor.

“Albedo are you alright??” You hovered over him. The boy simply turned to you and blinked. His stoic expression was more akin to what you typically were used to.

“I apologize Y/N. It seems I didn’t fully grasp the concepts in the experiment before executing it. Are you hurt?” He stood up and carefully helped you to your feet. He examined you for any signs of injury, regardless of his obviously bleeding nose.

“Im good, the chair broke most of my fall. You on the other hand...” You grabbed a handkerchief and try to assist him. “Wait... experiment? Is that what this is all about?” You accused, slightly irked.

“Yes, I saw a fascinating book among the study material you left behind recently. I assumed that it was a new subject you had recommended for me.” Albedo stated simply. “Its contents was um... quite intimate at times, but I thought it was a interesting perspective on forming human connections.” You felt froze, but this time not from the blistering cold.

“Did the book have um.... did it have a pair of cuffs on the front?” You asked, praying to the archons that you were mistaken.

“Yes, I studied it extensively.” Albedo replied without a hint of shame on his features. You replayed his interactions and what had just transpired in your head and looked back over to your friend.

“Okay two things. One, don’t you dare breathe a word to anyone about that book or else I’ll be very upset with you. And two, that was fucking hilarious.” You bursted out in laughter at the absurdity of the whole happenstance. Albedo gazed back at you confused, but your amusement was undeniably infectious. He smiled fondly back at you. Although the experiment couldn’t be labeled a success, the outcome was still one he found pleasing.

Alhaitham

It was grueling working in the Akademiya recently. The overthrow of power left everyone with plenty to do. You would go mad from attending meeting after meeting if you didn’t have some sort of stress outlet. Writing was a way you liked to ease your mind, like an escape of sorts. You loved writing loose plots for light novels and dreamed to one day send an entry to the “Wow This Novel is Amazing!” contest in Inazuma. You were far from a finished manuscript, but it’s days like these that gave you inspiration. After working through piles of paperwork, you earned yourself a moment of indulgence. Especially when stress was eating you alive, your scenes tended to take a turn for the... suggestive.

The scene opened to the main character pondering why their mentor kept themselves at arms length. She respected him immensely and strives to uphold his reputation by improving her skill. He was young and handsome, skilled far beyond his years. They held a close bond, closer than either of them have ever experienced. Now it was unclear why he was giving her such a cold shoulder. She confronts her mentor about the reasons behind his actions. He expresses his pride in her, how she has come far in the their time together. But for her to achieve new highs, she must leave him behind. His feelings for her would only be a hindrance now.

She felt the tension between them for some time now. It was lingered in soft bushes between fingers, meaningful glances over meals, and caring gestures done without thinking. She’s fallen for the beautiful man, to a point that it wasn’t logical. No words need to be exchanged, only body heat. Arms hold onto the other in yearning desperation. Lips hungrily meet, as if they’ll never to be sated. Her want clouds all her senses and she could feel his willingness to give her everything, all of him. Hot needy breaths trail down her body, discarding any clothes that stood barrier, until he finally put his mouth directly on-

“Busy Y/N?” The amused man asked from the doorway. You jump in response, quickly pushing aside the parchment that you were writing on.

“Alhaitham! What are you doing here?” You pipe up, surprised to see your friend for more than one reason. Alhaitham had been promoted to acting grand sage while the rest was still settling, he had to be incredibly busy.

“I see you’re not very excited to see me,” Alhaitham teased, strolling casually into your office anyway. “Even after I went through the trouble of coming to grab the data reports myself and pay you a visit.” He tsked.

“You came to see me? Ah, so you need a favor.” You playfully jabbed back, easily finding comfort in the other’s company. It really had been quite a while. If it weren’t for the man’s inflated ego, you might have told him that you’ve missed him.

“You wound me. It’s not an oddity for colleagues reconnect reminisce while also carrying out an errand for the acting great sage.” Alhaitham replied smoothly, not bothering to go through the motions and pretend to act hurt.

“Yikes, already pulling the ‘acting great sage’ card.” You chuckle. Alhaitham and you have worked closely together for years, so you didn’t mind going out of your way to do him a favor. But maybe one day he would learn that all he had to do was ask nicely.

“It would be foolish to not use the assets as they are presented to me.” The former scribe shrugged. He opened his mouth as if to continue the witty banter, but a beep from on his person alerted him of something. “I’ll have to brief you later. I’ll just take the data reports and be on my way.”

“Right, here it goes.” You handed him the prepared stack of papers on your desk and just like that Alhaitham was gone, off to his next endeavor. Wow he really is swamped now a days. You thought, ready to get back into your writing. Ideas kept flowing through you as you looked for the parchment you just had.... Wait it was just right here. Oh no.

“ALHAITHAM! I NEED THE DATA REPOR-” You barged into acting grand sage’s office, which was no easy feat. You were stopped again and again by all the matra crawling about. Your mouth ran dry when spotted the parchment in the smirking man’s hands. You wished the floor would just open up and swallow you whole so that you wouldn’t have to look at that cocky handsome face.

“The data report? Certainly, it’s right over there on the desk.” Alhaitham stated, not bothering to take his eyes off your handwriting. “I’m still going over some of it now and I have to say, it’s quite in depth.” He went on.

“You are such a jerk! Give it!” You resorted to trying to snatch it, but the former scribe easily turned away without sparing you even a single glance. You knew what he wanted and damn did it feel like making a deal with the devil. “I’ll owe you a favor, no questions asked. Just hand it over and keep your mouth shut.”

“Two favors.” He bargained without batting an eye.

“You’re pushing it-”

“One is for my silence and the other for the safe return of your... passion project.” Alhaitham interjected, finally tearing his eyes from your writing to shoot you a glance above the paper. You willed a stern expression onto your face, even while a furious blush bloomed cross your cheeks. A curt nod sealed the agreement and the man casually returned the parchment to you as promised. You snatched the paper from him and averted your gaze.

“Y/N you have quite the knack for imagery.” Alhaitham added slyly. You expected he would tease you a little longer, so you braced yourself for the worst. What you did’t expect was the tall man to lean over you with his hand braced on the desk. Your eyes shot up to his in surprise. “If you’re ever in need for another peer review, I’d be happy to offer my services.” He winked.

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itsdrawingmen · 7 months ago

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I saw a dunmeshi art where they lined up the characters in their underwear, and got brainworms from it. I'm not really good at painted studies, it turns out, or maybe it just didn't work right now, but I like how the drawing came out. It was an excercise in different bodies, and I think they’re all neat.

Some headcanons and musings:

Zen has boobs, tits even, but that's canon, and all the time I was drawing him I was thinking about that selfie from his album where he's wearing a half-buttoned white shirt and his cleavage is visible. I am looking at him respectfully (not really, I am looking at him like this:

He's shaved everywhere, and he wears very plain, neutral-coloured underwear. His normal state is being pretty meaty, but he doesn’t like himself that way. He’s often dried out for his roles.

Yoosung is narrow-chested, thin, covered in moles, and comparatively kinda hairy — not by my European standards, but compared to the others here. He doesn't care about shaving, for himself or anyone else. He often wears funky boxers, and has sort of got a collection. Even when it's not funky-printed, his underwear is usually bright-coloured. He's cringe, but he's free. Also, not pictured, but he’s often covered in hickeys, normally from the chest up. Not gonna say who leaves them, but anyone who knows me even a little can take a wild guess 👀

Jaehee is wide in the hips and big-breasted. Her underwear is normally mismatched, because she doesn't care. The only thing she cares about is that it doesn't show through her clothes. In the canon timeline, she usually wears those thick stiff heavily padded bras that smooth everything out, and then over the course of the postcanon she gradually switches to softer cups. She's sedentary, often stressed, and doesn't eat well, so she's not really thin. She has acne on her face, neck, back, chest, and shoulders. She shaves because she’s too used to it, but she gradually gets more relaxed about it.

Next up is Joori Nam, the MC. She's a big, tall young woman, quite heavy and strong. She likes to show off her edgy and feisty personality in clothes and underwear, and she's also pretty expressive and energetic in gestures. She's depressed and a self-harmer. She barely shaves, only where is absolutely necessary to look ‘presentable’ for work. Otherwise, she can’t be assed.

The Chois are emaciated and scarred. They've both got some mild pectus excavatum. The Mother Choi used to stub cigarettes on them, and Saeran has got it worse.

Saeyoung is slightly more muscular and slightly less scarred. He has knobby square fingers, and nails bitten to almost nothing. He's also an active self-harmer. He's missing several toenails. All of his underwear is a little baggy on him.

Saeran is even thinner and less muscular. He has a lot of piercings, and his tattoo is blacked out into a full sleeve. He has barely any body hair at all. He is pretty much covered in cigarette burn scars, as well as scars from being whipped with cables, and several deep and crooked scars from gashes made with glass bottles.

Jumin, without his PR team, can't pose for shit. He is good at doing what they tell him, and he looks fine when photographed candidly, but as soon as he starts posing on his own, he just looks awkward and stiff. He has a weird case of CEO-body, where he's fit, but also weirdly soft in unexpected places (namely, his chest and arms). He shaves because it's 'hygienic'. He also wears briefs. Sorry, to me he looks like someone who wears briefs.

Jihyun is normally pretty toned, but after the whole ordeal with Rika and having to cover for her he has gained some weight and gotten soft. He has a long torso and wider hips and a bit of a belly. He hunches his back a lot, and picks at the skin of his fingers.

Rika is slender and dancerly, and very traditionally feminine. She’s small and graceful, not muscular, but soft, with smooth porcelain skin. She wears lingerie, always matching, always beautiful, and pretty much only owns thongs and tanga. Somehow, despite always looking up at people, she can easily make you feel like she’s looking down at you.

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cloveroctobers · 7 months ago

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THE STRANGERS: SINNERS ON COURT

A/N: the point? I’m highly disappointed with the new release of the strangers and the summer is the perfect time for the horrors and THAT was just not it for me. I’ve also been strongly debating if I even want to dip into writing for challengers since it’s very layered but also MESSY and who wants to flop if you drop something but you don’t know unless you try right? So here’s me serving something since chapter 1 gave us…not much? I’m blaming the writers and not the actors ofc so they need to hire me for chapter 2 ASAP. So this is for my horror and challengers lovers I guess! I might have to do a trilogy myself depending how this turns out.

In short: Challengers meet The Strangers.

WARNINGS: mostly oc x art pairing with a hint of Tashi x oc! Language, slow burn/slow start? Slight graphic violence + animal brutality?—Not overly described but hinted + a LENGTHY read!

SYNOPSIS: Andromeda, “Andra,” Cove has always been the secret double to Tashi’s game even when Andra claims that is far from true. Although their friendship has been on and off since Andra transferred out of Stanford…everything always comes back to the court. Andra seeks out Art’s company to attend her grandfather’s birthday party back in her hometown in Virginia Beach not expecting Tashi and Patrick to show up as well considering the confirmed secrets the three have recently spilled. After the events at Andra’s grandfather’s birthday party, the four decide to take a trip up to Andra’s cottage to get reacquainted but soon find three more guests at the door who release nothing but terror that surely ruins the weekend.

.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *

“I just remember the knife plunging into him and the amount of blood that spluttered from his mouth as they flung his body to the floor…” Andra hears the intake of her breath before she continued, “his eyes still locked on me as if—as if he was imagining during his last moments what our life as a married couple could be like and I couldn’t help him. I couldn’t stop them from hurting the man I wanted forever with. They took that from me and I still feel that knife, shoving its way through my body every time I think of him. My forever husband.”

The host of the podcast speaks now, “Not long after Maya honored us with this virtual interview, she was found brutally murdered in her shared home with her late fiancé, Ryan. The case of the road-trip lovers still remains unsolved till this day.”

A nudge to Andra’s bare upper arm makes her flinch, bringing her back to reality as she glances to her right to see her good friend, Art Donaldson staring at her, freshly awakened from his nap. Andra allowed him to be her passenger princess since he had to take two flights to get here, which she was thankful for.

After he received more frustrating than devastating news: that Lily was biologically Patrick’s, Art fled to London to take a much needed break from his two opponents. Art held Lily so tight and even thought of taking her with him but had no energy to fight Tashi who made little noise at his departure. She knew he would be back. Andra received a text from Tashi before Art ended up calling her and it was so laughable that Tashi acted like she had everything so figured out.

[~From: Tashi Duncan.

I fucked up and it’s finally caught up…you’ll probably be hearing from Art soon. I know you’ll do me a solid and watch over him for me, won’t you Meda?

Purposely leaving Tashi on read, Andra didn’t engage in a conversation because not even three minutes later, Art was in fact calling her phone—which led to a two hour call.

“What the hell are you listening to?” Art stretched his arms back around the headrest, a frown in between his brows.

Andra glances at him while rolling her stiff neck around in the driver’s seat, “A true crime podcast…about this couple that ends up having to stay in an airbnb and they basically get slaughtered by three sociopaths in creepy masks.”

Art squints, “and you feel that’s appropriate for us who are currently on the road alone surrounded by nothing but trees in this hillbilly state?”

“Hey! You wanted to see the cottage. I was—

Art interrupts his old friend, “Don’t say perfectly fine staying with your mom and step-dad because you and I both know you can’t stand those bastards.”

Which was not untrue…

Andra’s mother was big on living up to “the Cove,” name and felt that her daughter was the biggest disappointment (compared to her older brother Ahmed) although she kept a tight smile on her cheeks when speaking about Andra to family members. Andra’s mother’s side of the family came from a lineage of historians and archaeologists and Andra’s grandfather was also a well known tennis player in Ethiopia. Half of Andra’s mother’s siblings were also in the athletic field, her mother was once a gymnast and even made it to the Olympics multiple times until she suffered a severe neck injury on her third attendance ultimately ending her career—you can just guess how well she bonded with Tashi more than she ever did with her own daughter—later becoming a athletic sponsorship director.

Andra laughs with a nod of her head, “yeah, you’re right.”

Art hums already being aware, reaching for Andra’s phone pausing the podcast to search for a playlist for this late night morning drive. “This is a mood killer…no pun intended so I’m switching this but rest in peace to Maya and Ryan.”

You’re resting your head back against the headrest, eyes focused on the road, “You’re lucky I’m getting tired and don’t want to argue with you since there are rules such as: Driver always gets to pick the soundtrack.”

“So you were listening to this to scare the shit out of you and keep you awake?” Art states with a curious glance at the braided haired woman, “pull over and let me drive the rest of the way then.”

Andra twists her lips around, ready to debate on that since she loved her “little,” coupe and actually loved being the designated driver. When she transferred out of Stanford, she may or may not have gotten into illegally racing a few cars for extra cash, after her mother put a hold on her card until she declared a new major that was satisfactory enough to her. If anybody needed a ride and fast then Andra was your girl…just try to keep that on the low, although it was public record.

A yawn ripped through her lips before she can even stop it. She didn’t even want to dare a glimpse at Art who now sat up with a fold of his arms. He was being such a dad and Andra found this funny, laughing to herself while Art patiently waited for her to say something.

“You’re too cute, Art.” Andra tells him, lolling her head to peek over at the now dark haired blond, “looking like a scolding parent as if I didn’t get enough of that at the beach.”

Art sighs at that.

For as long as Art’s known Andra, she’s always been this humorous vibrant personality but it only ever shined when she stood on her own. It dimmed a bit whenever Tashi took over and Andra made herself small enough so her own mother wouldn’t find something to pick at but that never did her any good. Andra only came out here to celebrate her grandfather, since she was never sure how many more years the old man had left in him and he was much softer on her than the way he treated her mother, which was a cycle for what Andra endured. Her step-father refused to see it, comfortable in his rose colored lenses while she also often had a bickering relationship with her brother, Ahmed who claimed she played the victim game whenever their mother said something that basically teared her down.

It was a tale as old as time.

Andra thought inviting Art out here was to mainly help him wrap his head around what he was going to do and it would be good to see each other face to face after all this time but turns out it was him being by her side that made things a little easier.

“What do you need?” Art decided to ask, keeping his eyes trained only on her.

Andra chewed down on her bottom lip as she whispered, “…for you to drive.”

Art dipped his head at this, waiting for Andra to pull over to the side. They unbuckled their seatbelts and Art was out into the night while Andra climbed over to the passenger side with her fallen over zip up hoodie. Shutting the door behind him, Art adjusted the seat with a small teasing smile at the bronze skinned woman who scoffed at him in return.

Before he switched gears he says, “for what it’s worth…I think you’re brilliant at whatever you do and the only thing that matters is what you’re comfortable with when you look in the mirror. Be proud of that.”

A watery smile goes his way and Andra lightly reaches over to shove his shoulder, “you’re disgustingly sweet and I’m glad you’re in my life.”

“I love you, you know that?” Art sends a lopsided grin back.

Andra breathes, “I love you too.”

And that keeps Art warm in the sixty-five degree summer night. He runs his fingers over the door and cracks the window open, allowing the air to brush against the side of his new do, loving to hear the sound of that. It felt good to hear sentiments being reciprocated verbally and Andra never had a problem letting it be known. The pair connected in that kind of way, the whole words of affirmation was huge in the way they wanted to be loved and can always count on each other to be so reassuring.

“Now how many more hours do we have to go?”

Andra who’s balled up on her side, peeks at her glowing phone that was plugged into her car informs, “just a hour and nine minutes.”

Art puffed out some air as he switched gears, then checked over his shoulder before pulling back onto the road, “It’ll be sunrise by then so…hopefully a gas station will grant us with it’s presence and we can fill up, grab some shitty coffee or energy drinks and be on our way to your fancy cottage.”

Andra rolled her eyes, “it’s nothing compared to your California barbie dream house.”

“Please,” Art snorted, “it’s far from that and just a place to lay our heads and raise Lily in…” He clears his throat, “it’s just a house.”

Andra knew Art was still coming to terms with it all. He already went off about it and what he thought marriage should be despite spending years in one. Art claimed he wanted a divorce but the next thing Andra knew, Tashi and Patrick were showing up without her invite. Art didn’t invite them necessarily but he did let it slip to Patrick where he was over texts and that he didn’t know when he was coming back. Art needed some time and he always felt like there was never enough in this world.

The next few moments consisted of Andra dozing off, her phone buzzing with notifications as Art got off the next exit after driving nine miles and headed to the gas station. Art grabbed his own phone, tempted to wake Andra but she looked so at peace with some much needed sleep. He quietly exits the car and makes his way to the dingy gas station, greeting the grunting old man with the Santa Claus beard at the counter before searching their inventory. Art decides against the coffee that has a few dead flies floating at the top and circled back to the fridges.

Once he finds the little that he wanted, he slides the objects onto the counter at the man with the unkept beard. A small smile graces Art’s lips in a attempt to be friendly but the man doesn’t budge.

“That’ll be it, thanks.” Art urges as he holds open his wallet, also hoping to get the strange man to get a move on so he can get out of here quickly.

The man grunts, reaching forward from his spot on the stool to bring the few items closer to his view before he slowly starts punching them into the register. Art’s patient as the man takes his time and before he can start looking around his gruff tone comes out, “that’s a pretty one you got out there, don’t ya?”

Art blinks, easily picking up at what the man is hinting at and chooses to ignore him, “I’ll need some gas too. $25 on pump three.”

The man hums to himself, reaching over some more to punch his dirt stained fingers into the buttons although his eyes keep darting out the window. This time Art follows the old man’s stare but only to check on Andra to see that she is still in fact asleep on the passenger side.

“Y’all not from around these parts are ya? Headin’ north might not be the best choice ‘round this time of year.” The man tells Art who feels his brows coming together in a frown.

He wasn’t concerned about how the man can figure out if he was from here or not. It was the same as visiting any place and Art’s been to many considering his status. It was what the man, Walter (according to his also grimy looking name tag) said afterwards.

“It’s a week before the holiday, I think we’ll be okay but thanks for caring.” Art keeps his calm, small smile still on his lips as he pulls out two twenty bills, noticing the: CASH ONLY sign, “keep the change and you have a nice upcoming morning.”

Art doesn’t bother engaging in more conversation, shoving his wallet back into his jogger pocket, and scoops the items into his arms; not asking for a bag either. Art half expected the man to latch onto his wrist and deliver another unsettling line. This time Walter just goes back to being silent and Art’s not sure which one was worse, as he steps away and exits the store.

The pinging of his own phone, doesn’t stop Art in his tracks as he continues back to the coupe. Opening the door, he dumps everything into the driver’s seat for now before moving quickly to the nozzle. The minutes feel long as Art darts his gaze from the changing numbers on the pump, to Walter’s stare from the store, and back to Andra whose body gently rises and falls with each breath.

With a click, Art brings his attention to the nozzle to place in its original space, then moves the drinks into the holders and tossing the few snacks onto the floor by Andra’s sneakers on the floor. He searches the glove box for some sanitizer, but no amount of alcohol can erase the internal feeling of something going wrong.

Art laughs to himself as Walter holds up a hand in their departure, feeling that he was just being paranoid since his nerves were already out of whack way before he got to this state. Art shrugs it off once the gas station is no longer in sight and feels his phone ping some more.

“Not now, Patrick.” Art bites with a scratch to the back of his head.

He doesn’t have to look at his phone to know that it’s Patrick. He’s been the main one sending texts at all sorts of times since Art left the country. Art was already irked before but now that he brought Tashi to impose on his time with Andra was just another thing to tick off the list. Andra was great at distancing herself from the two and was always vocal on her distaste for Patrick but this was still a process for Art.

You can only be on the court by yourself for so long according to Art Donaldson.

Andra Cove strongly felt different.

“Hey,” Andra’s raspy voice is followed with a grasp to Art’s shoulder, catching him off guard which makes her widen her half lidded eyes at his flinching, “…everything good?”

Art scoffs, “what? Oh yeah! I just thought southern people would have the best manners.”

Andra clenches the tiredness from her eyes, trying to comprehend what the blond was saying to her, “…what happened?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Art says, “take a look in the holder, I got your favorite.”

Peeking at him with one eye, Andra glances down at the yellow bottle and reaches for it with a smile that splits over her lips. “Pina colada Fanta? I can’t believe you remember that.”

“How can I forget? You talked about it all the damn time back at Stanford and would throw a fit every time the campus never had it.” Art briefly looks at the woman from the driver’s side.

Andra laughs as she squeezes it to her chest before placing it back in the holder, “appreciate you, bub.”

“Sure,” art replies, “try not to chug it all down for breakfast later and then complain about a tummy ache afterwards.”

“Are you this bossy with Lily?” Andra questions while getting ready to roll her body to face away from Art again.

She freezes a bit, wondering if it’s a sore subject to even mention the child’s name but Art just shakes his head with a snort, “I’m actually the fun parent, believe it or not.”

“Oh I do.” Andra’s turned back to the window again, reaching a hand back to squeeze Art’s thigh in comfort.

He watches Andra’s hand: her gel nails a combination of a summer orange sunset and magenta. Her pretty fingers are inked with delicate designs and Art finds that her touch radiates a warmth that he’s not used to. A touch that is gentle but firm enough that lets him know that perhaps this gloom season doesn’t have to last forever.

There’s some instrumentals playing throughout the car now but Art doesn’t seem to mind it. Andra’s hand is now back to her own lap as she catches up on another round of a nap and Art is left to his own thoughts and this horrible energy drink that tastes like battery acid.

“Jesus,” Art mutters to himself as he feels himself gag balling a fist up to his mouth, in hopes of settling his stomach on his own.

He glares down at the drink momentarily before his eyes connect with something in the road, which makes him tap on the brakes. They squeal some, which makes Andra pop up in bewilderment, hood to her hoodie sliding right off.

“Damn,” Art comments as Andra grips onto the dash, leaning forward to get a good look at what’s in the road.

Andra sighs, “it’s a deer.”

“Yeah but…it doesn’t just look like roadkill.”

The way its head is bent back is unnatural along with the amount of blood that stains the gravel. There’s traces of glass the decorate the ground which indicates it could have been hit, which was not uncommon. It was the way that both sets of eyes locked on the deer with squints in their eyes that they noticed multiple wounds on its backside that appeared blunt and not accidental.

Andra exhales, her side eye going to the sides of the car before her hands went to check that the doors were locked, “nope. Art, if you don’t float this shit, then I will.”

The glance Art shoots Andra’s way, confirms that twisting feeling he felt back at the gas station. He crosses his hands over the steering wheel, turning the car to go around the deer and picks up the speed just as the navigation system speaks telling the two which direction to continue in.

That was enough to keep Andra awake for the rest of the drive.

6:46AM

The old friends are pulling up to the Olive green and white cottage. Equally they both rest their heads against the seats, just measuring the amount of energy it was going to take to collect their things and bring them into the home.

“It’s nice.” Art compliments while Andra who rolls her head to meet his tired stare with her blank one, “what? I’m not bullshitting you, honest.”

“Uh huh,” Andra answers as she grabs her Fanta staring at it a bit with a smile, “c’mon Ken, let’s get inside before the bugs start chomping.”

Art teases with his own nickname, “can we check our surroundings first, Belle? I’m getting some red flags?”

It was the way he actually had a rose by one of his own personalized nicknames for Andra in his phone—the only one with a emoji by her name truly—that reminded Art of how much he missed their friendship.

“Is this more about the Santa Claus cashier or the stabbed up deer?” Andra asks with her hand on the door.

Art scratches at his brow as Andra’s phone dings, “uh…both?” He muttered while she deeply inhales, eyes going to the phone she was about to leave behind in the holder. Pulling it free, she unlocks the phone and reads the message with a scowl.

Holding the mic on the bottom right of the device, she speaks into it, “thanks for letting me know last minute, dumbass. Send.”

Shoving the phone into her hoodie pocket, she meets Art’s eyes, “Ahmed gladly let me know that the front porch light is still broken from the last time he snuck up here to use my place for who knows what.”

“I’ll take a look at it, just set a reminder.”

Andra nods, quickly doing so before pushing the door open followed by Art. He breathes in the fresh air which smells of pine and salt from near by water. It’s quiet besides the light chirping from some birds and there’s not many cars near by at Andra’s neighbor to their left.

“The Triplett’s come here in the winter months, they’re Minnesota natives if you can believe it.” Andra informs as she swings the strap of her duffle bag against her shoulder and moves the seat back into place.

Art nods, “so what you’re saying is…we’re actually alone?”

Andra shrugs, “that’s kinda what the cottage life is all about, babe. Don’t worry though, that’ll be ruined once your two favs decides to grant us with their presence.”

Art watches as Andra slams the door, leaving Art behind as she crosses the pathway towards the front porch. He’s scrambling a bit now, grabbing his own bag and locking the car. He jogs up the steps just as Andra is unlocking the door. “Did I mention that I’m sorry about that?”

Andra fans her hand as Art steps into the home, being met with the grand view of the water out back. She’s locking the door behind him and then responds, “you sure did but nothings changed.”

She hoist the bag on her shoulder as she breezes by that, “alright little house tour since it’s still early and we could both use some more sleep. Dining table is here, kitchen in the corner, sitting area to a pretty great view is up ahead with the best deck in this sleepy town right beyond those doors, bathroom is right by the last set of sliding doors leading out to the deck, and your room is right around that wall. Around from there is the actual living room and my room is upstairs. Please keep your shoes by the door.”

Art breathes out a laugh, “if I didn’t know that you were once a careless tennis athlete who chose cross country instead—out of all things—then went on to sports journalism later turned kinesiologist, I’d say real estate might be your true calling.”

Andra rolls her eyes with a laugh, “thanks for the whole run down of my résumé, you’re a great guest so far.”

“Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet.” He winks as he moves to start unlacing his sneakers while Andra shakes her head, moving towards the couch with her back to the sliding doors.

She jokes, “I’m not on your salary so I don’t have a personalized chef or anything—

“Shut up, Andie.” Art playfully aims his shoe at the braided woman who grins at him with a wink, “I don’t need that special treatment shit, especially when it’s going to be over by next year anyway. I already know I’m gonna be taken care of by you.”

Since Art got his friendship with Patrick back, he seems to believe that he’ll be retiring soon and he wasn’t anywhere near forty just yet.

She shrugs her shoulders, “…all depends on how good of a guest you are.”

“I think I’m the best you’re gonna get…compared to your brother anyway.”

“Don’t even get me started on his bobble head!” Andra yells before continuing, “Now I have to check the house to make sure he didn’t ruin anything and try to hide it but at least he was honest about the light. The bare minimum! Please let me know if anything seems off in your room?”

Art laughs a little, knowing just how much Andra went at it with the older guy. Art never had any issues with Ahmed, he had an award winning smile and was definitely a charmer. The only thing Art didn’t get was why he didn’t have his sister’s back when it came to their mother? Probably because he got all the credit of being the “good” kid and didn’t want to ruin that but that was selfish. Art didn’t know what it meant to be a sibling but he figured it should be some sort of union, even if you had to Duke it out from time to time.

Blood was supposed to be thicker than water is what they say.

Art was an only child so he’s always been on his own but he felt like his late nana was the closest thing he’s had as true family.

Art zones back in on Andra stepping back into his view, “…what I was meaning to say before my mind goes all over the place is the kitchen should be pretty stacked although we’re only going to be here for a day or two. I had someone make sure of it so we don’t have to make any special trips but if you want to later—

“Andie,” art calls out to her making her blink and realize that she’s talking a lot, something she does when she’s stressing or needing some rest, “we’re good, get out of here.”

Her hands are on her hips now, “Are you trying to bully me, Donaldson?”

“No?” Art blinks.

“That’s what I thought. See you in a few hours and holler if you need anything.” She starts to walk off but Art follows her.

“…you do have weapons here right?”

She glances at him over her shoulder, “duh, who the hell do you think I am? Oblivious?”

“…what’s your middle name again?”

“Good night, art!” She waved her fingers in the air while Art is smirking.

“It’s morning!”

“Then tweet, tweet, bitch!” She calls back over the wall before she disappears and heads up the stairs.

Art can’t help but to let the bubbled laughter fly past his lips, heading to the right where the bedroom is waiting behind the sliding barn doors. Dumping his bags on a near by chair, he plops down on the side of the bed, resting his hands on his knees as he soaks in the stillness.

Flinging his body sideways to lay down, after staring out at the view for some time, he pulls out his phone to see a few texts from no other than Patrick.

The most recent says that Art’ll be seeing him and Tashi by the early or mid-afternoon at the latest, depending on when Tashi was ready to go. All Art did was like the message, placing his phone back on his belly before he closed his eyes.

Art is awakened by the stench of food and the goosebumps that decorate his skin. Rubbing at the new texture on his skin, he pushes himself up into a sitting position and peeks through his slumber eyes to get a sense for what time it is.

11:52AM

He gets to his feet, rubbing at his eyes and leaves his phone behind face down on the bed. Leaning in the doorway he looks both ways before stepping out onto the dark wood floor and heads back towards the front of the cottage. He spots Andra immediately facing his direction in the kitchen, leftovers of a sandwich in her hand while she’s sipping at some sort of smoothie.

“Morning sunshine, how did you sleep?”

Art leans against the counter from the opposite side and grins, “like a baby.”

“See the magic of this place yet?”

“I still need some convincing…maybe the last bite of that sandwich will help?”

“Oh you mean this one? That’s full of grease and has the potential to clog arteries? Aren’t you an athlete?”

Art gives a straight face, “doesn’t mean I can’t have cheat days and when did you become my trainer exactly?”

Andra pops her lips at the taste, leaning forward to mockingly toss the rest of the sandwich into her mouth.

Art leans away from the counter, “alright, okay. Your hospitality actually sucks and I rate this establishment zero stars.”

“You can’t chop me.”

“I just did.” Art states matter of factly as he starts making his way into the kitchen.

Andra scrunches up her nose, “always such a little baby! There’s one waiting for you in the toaster oven and I’ll be reporting this to the blogs.”

Art argues, “And you’ll be hearing from my lawyer.”

“Classic answer,” Andra circles around Art now in her flowy white skirt to plop on the couch dramatically with a hand tossed against her forehead, “I thought you said you loved me, Arthur?”

“Oh c’mon, not the whole government name drop, Andromeda!” Art drags out her name around stuffing his face while Andra laughs laid out on the couch.

He preferred “Art,” over his full name any day and that’s what everyone’s known him as before he even made it big. That of course didn’t apply to his own parents who felt it was foolish to call their son by a nickname rather than what they gave to him at birth. They were less hard asses than Patrick’s parents but when it came to titles that’s where he and Andromeda related.

“I’ve been added to the group chat thanks to your side piece.” Andromeda waves her phone in the air.

Art takes her leftover smoothie and plops down beside her, sipping at and ignoring her raised brows, “what side piece?”

“Mickey mouse.” Andromeda tells as she shows the dark blond her phone, “Patrick says him and Tashi are now on the road so we should see them around 2 at the latest.”

Art slowly finishes chewing, elbows on his knees as he’s in thought, nodding at this information. He can’t exactly say he’s thrilled to have them here—as bad as it sounds considering 1/2 of the pair consists of his wife but he’ll keep that to himself.

Andra sits up then, shuffling to sit thigh to thigh with Art as she nudged his shoulder, “Take a minute and get ready, I’ll be outside enjoying the sun until I give you the rest of the tour.”

He questions with a lopsided grin, “there’s more?”

“Always.” She flashes her teeth at him, leaving Art to peer down at her lips briefly before she turns her head to look at the waterfront for a bit, leaving Art to analyze the profile of Andra’s face. The little chocolate chip mole by her hairline of her straight backs is something he always found cute no matter which way she wore her hair. Just like her finding the spec of honey brown on the side of his dark blue hues in his right eye.

She gets up, using his shoulder for leverage before she breezes by him smelling like caramel, peonies, and pink pepper—a mixture of many scents that matched her body chemistry quite well. Art lets out a long sigh, leaning back against the couch after she slides the door closed but that doesn’t stop him from watching her walk across the deck to sit pretty on the wicker egg chair.

Some time later Art makes his way out to the deck, freshly changed and dressed for the remainder of the day. He meets Andra out on the deck, leaning over it just as she’s getting off the phone.

“I don’t care when you bring it, Ahmed. All I know is that it better be back here by the time I come out here again. Yeah, yeah. Bye!” Andra ends the call while there’s amusement on Art’s face while he takes a spot right next to her.

He glances at her before looking back at the view, “are you out here tearing your big brother a new one?”

“Nooo, what gave you that idea?” She’s sarcastic although her smile is as sweet as can be.

She spins to rest her elbows on the banister, eyeing Art’s appearance. He meets her stare, raising his brows in question as she says, “The facial hair is a good look on you. What’s next? Growing your hair back out?”

Art snorts, “nah, I think that’s over for me. Too much maintenance.”

Andra hums as she waves him along, “let’s see the dock…wait did you put your sunscreen or bug spray on?”

“Uh no?”

“Not on my watch, Donaldson.” She charges right by him to the egg chair, coming back with a dropper, “hold out your wrists.”

“What is it?” He asks but complies as the oil is dropped right on his skin.

“Now pat it against your neck and ankles then finish with your wrists.” She instructs, “the mosquitoes are devils by the water and hate lemongrass.”

Art shakes his head with a smile, “whatever you say, mom.”

“That’s okay, clown me all you want but you’ll be thanking me by the time we’re inside for the night, free from bites.” She pats his waist on her way by to put the dropper back.

Together the friends make their way down the set of stairs to the lower level. They walk across the grass where Andra points to their left, showing where the shed is full of equipment for water activities.

“Paddle boarding?” Art quizzes as he caressed his facial hair, “I can’t picture it.”

“What? I can’t have other hobbies?” Andra asked, hands on her hips while staring at the man underneath her eyelashes.

Art shrugged, “course you can. I just remember a certain lake party where you were lounging by the lake instead of being in it.”

Andra shields her eyes from the sun as she turns up her glossed lips at the memory, “I’m surprised you remember that when you had your tongue down Divinia Alonto’s throat.”

“Did I?” Art inquires, “I was honestly so worried about my new friend not having a good time.”

“And keeping Patrick from getting his ass beat by one of those guys that’s probably a linebacker now.” Andra chuckles as she leads the way up the small hill towards the dock.

The air is warm just as the light breeze while the two travel some more together. It was funny thinking about it all, how Andra became acquainted with the pair, first watching them at the US open since she was visiting Ahmed who recently moved out to Queens, New York. She would later end up at Tashi’s match a week later, sitting on the bleachers not far from Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson. She ended up introducing herself to the two prior and congratulated them on their win just for Patrick to invite her to a lake party they were attending that night.

Andra said she would think about it just as her pink LG chocolate phone was ringing. It was Tashi. Art even took it further to round off a number Andra can reach them at, leaving her to just stare at them in amusement.

“Aren’t you gonna type that in? Or do you need me to do it for you?” Patrick attempts to flirt but Andra just peers at him from underneath her oval purple and black glasses.

Andra laughs, “I’ve got it but if I need someone to lift a finger for me, I know just who to call. Later.”

“Later.” The boys echo as they watch her walk away.

“She wants me, dude.” Patrick leans back into Art’s shoulder as they both watch her hips sway, doing a signature spin while answering the phone.

“Yeah right, in your dreams!

“Hey,” Art speaks, his eyes were off to the right, “you never mentioned a court.”

Andra deeply exhaled as they both face it now, “that’s because I try to forget it every time I’m out here. After I purchased this property, my mom made it her mission to have one put out here as some sort of gift to me? Honestly it feels like torture porn to me but I shut my mouth and never use it.”

Art turned his eyes into slits, “if you don’t use it then somebody definitely does. What do you get up to out there in Alaska?”

It still shocked Art to hear that Andra settled out in Alaska these past few years. Of course she still traveled all over working with the most popular athletes, this he knew because he seemed to get the runaround whenever he mentioned her but Tashi deemed it as Andra still holding a grudge with her cutting Andra off after she transferred.

Art believed it was possible but eventually they reconnected instead.

“Lots of things,” Andra answers, “but you’d have to come out there and see.”

Art hums, “that another invitation?”

“As if you need anymore.” Andra looks at him and he holds her stare.

“…I think,” he starts as he leans towards her a bit, “I’d like to see if you still got it.”

Andra scoffs, “I don’t need to prove a damn thing.”

A smile twitches onto his lips, “sure you don’t but we’ve got nothing but time?”

“And we can enjoy that time by the dock underneath the sun. I know you like to get a little tan for the summer.” Andra argues with a cross of her arms.

Art rolls his eyes, “if you’re a chicken shit just say that.”

“If you wanna see me in a skort just say that.” Andra fired back, standing on her toes a bit to match his height.

Art presses his tongue into his cheek, looking off to think about it, “fine, you caught me! I’d love to.”

And the way he’s speaking to her makes Andra bite her bottom lip and Art knows he’s got her. He’s smirking as he tries to reach for her folded arms in attempt to hug her but she playfully slaps his hands away and points at him in warning.

They’ve worked up a good enough sweat on the indigo blue court. Art’s serving with the ball at the neck of the racket before he sends the ball over. Andra has no issue matching Art’s rhythm, he’s found his spark again but Andra knows he’s been tired of professional tennis. It just took him much longer than it did Andra. She knew right from the beginning that it wasn’t her sport although she was phenomenal at it.

It was a shame really because it seemed effortless. So causal she swung but it was always fast, her brows remained turned inward while the rest of her face remained calm despite the usual routine of pulling her bottom lip underneath her teeth. Art is so lost in the swing of things, picking up on Andra’s own tics that he tries to go for the ball at the last minute. Andra pulled another one of her moves, almost like a ballet twirl spinning just as she smacks the ball back to Art.

Stretching his arm just too far, Art hisses as he feels his shoulder sting almost like static radiating down his arm followed by a burning sensation. Andra sharply inhaled, eyes widening as she tosses the racket to the side. Moving around the net she’s down on her knees as Art lays on his back panting.

“Hey,” she speaks touching his shoulder which he lightly grips, “Let me.”

Carefully he moves his fingertips out the way, choosing to stare up at the sky for a while as Andra feels around. Art groans as she touches just at the crease of his armpit, surrounding by his old wounds.

“It’s a muscle spasm,” Andra informs as she digs her fingers along his skin, “breathe through it, Art.”

He pinches at the bridge of his nose, doing as instructed and croaks out, “my shoulder stood no chance, I should have known, you still got it and do that famous spin of yours.”

“Whatever,” Andra dismisses, “now look at you, all messed up, old man.”

Art huffs, “well I wouldn’t pick anybody else to look after me.”

Andra shakes her head with a small smile as she raises Art’s shoulder while still pushing back at the stubborn spasm. When Andra shakes his shoulder out to help relax it, she goes to raise it again but he’s sitting up now with a wince. With one hand he slips against the small of Andra’s back, making her inhale as she looks over at him.

“Am I hurting you?” She softly inquired, quickly checking in but Art shakes his head.

He’s pushing her to his lap and whispers into the summer air, “Never that.”

Before his lips are placed right on her’s.

Their noses are smashed together as their lips work together. Andra makes the move to grip Art’s jaw, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. He rubs at her back and squeezes her hips, matching her speed as if time is all they had.

Abruptly she pulls back, holding her lips while Art peers at her in alert. His eyes are even darker now but the spec of gold in that one eye is bright.

It’s such a pretty sight with his lips pink and panting.

“Art…what was that?” She questions behind her hands.

His hands don’t leave her frame as he breathes, “that was something I wanted to do since I hugged you for the first time in years at your grandpop’s party.”

She tilts her head at this news and moves to sit beside him against the hot court, “You’re married, Art.”

“I don’t think Tashi knows that.” Art mutters while Andra sighs.

“So this is about revenge?”

Art shakes his head, “no. It’s about finding what’s missing and you’re it.”

They both lock eyes and Andra doesn’t realize she’s leaning in until Art is kissing her again, pushing her back onto the court which burns her bare back in more ways than one. She hisses and Art pulls away and sits her up immediately as he cups her face, “…can we go inside?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Their grins are wide as they scramble to their feet like two old friends secretly up to no good. The excitement was real, doing something that most would frown upon but the pair were not the only two that moved to their own drums.

Andra’s helping Art remove his shirt, he playfully whines more than needed as she pulls it over his aching shoulder but reveals he’s just messing with her and it’s not anything he can’t handle. His hands find comfort right on her ass, pulling her lips right back to his as he lays back against the couch. It’s when he starts bucking his hips against her’s after she slips her tongue into his mouth that Art knows he’s in trouble.

“I’ve missed you, Andie.” He tells her as she presses kisses down his neck.

She pulls back, “how much?”

He managed to flip the two over, sliding his hand up her leg brushing her white skirt all the way up as he presses his front against the only cloth that’s left covering her. “That much.”

“Then I think we need to fix that, don’t you?” She quizzes, holding his face in her hands again.

His lips are pressed to her’s and she nips at his bottom one and just as he’s reaching to shove down his own pants, there’s knocks at the door.

Both of their gazes turn to the door and Art sits up.

“Special delivery!” A familiar voice screams behind the door.

Art clenched his eyes shut while Andra sits up on her elbows to pull her skirt back down.

“Sorry,” Art kisses her cheek while Andra just secured the satin pearl colored tie around her braids before handing him his shirt back.

Art can already see Andra closing up and he hates to see it. She waits for him to fix his shirt again, this time with the tag in the right place, and wipes the gloss from his lips before making her way to the front door.

Yanking the door open to stop the pounding at it, she spots a grinning Patrick with shades on leaning against the door. “Mickey! You don’t have to kick my door in to announce your arrival, we can hear you from up the street.”

“You sure? Didn’t want to startle your quality time, sweetheart.” Patrick clicks his teeth with a wink as he leans forward to smack a kiss to her cheek before squeezing his way by.

Andra yanks Patrick by his backpack and scowls at the back of his neck, “Take your shoes off in my house, asswipe.”

“Yeah, whatever you want. Got it.”

Andra steps onto the porch now, spotting Tashi with her phone pressed to her ear pacing back and forth. Patrick snickers as he makes his way over to Art, arms held out ready for an embrace but Art just gives him a side eye before choosing to move into the kitchen.

Tashi lifts her head just to meet Andra’s eyes on the porch. They watch each other, Tashi half expecting Andra to send her a Princess wave like old times but she doesn’t. Once Tashi starts crossing the lawn towards the steps is when Andra turns her body to lean her back against the front door. She sees Tashi’s mountain of bags resting on the porch and raises her brow at them.

“Hey,” Tashi greets shortly as her heels click against the porch.

Andra dips her head, “Hi, Tash. Have a nice ride up here?”

“I never would have picked this hick town for you even if it’s part time, what were you thinking?” Tash asked as she begins moving her bags into Andra’s home herself.

Once Art comes over, he silently grabs the last bag to bring in before putting space between him, Tashi and Patrick.

“I was thinking, my money, my choice.” Andra replies as she closes the door.

Patrick lets out a low whistle, arm stretched along the back of the couch, “easy with the claws ladies.”

Tashi glares, “Shut the fuck up, will you?”

“Don’t start.” Andra warns the dark haired man who just shrugs, peeking over at Art with his tongue out in silent laughter who’s shaking his head at him.

Tashi surveys the cottage, heading to the waterfront view while looking left and right. “So what’s the sleeping arrangements?”

“Art’s on this level, I’m upstairs, Pat and you can have the couches.”

Patrick bounces on the one he’s sitting on now, “cool.”

“Right,” Tashi snorts, “So the room with the barn doors? Got it.”

Andra sends a look to Art who just moves the tension from his jaw. Tashi picks up on this and says, “what have you two been up to?”

“Yeah! It’s a nice set up you got here, Andra! I’m sure there’s plenty and nothing to do.” Patrick’s fishing but they’re not taking the bait.

Art decides to change the subject, “have you two eaten?”

“We stopped at that one place for breakfast before we left but I’m always down to decide what’s for dinner.” Patrick admits while Tashi rolls her eyes.

The now blonde haired woman brushes by Andra, “I’m going to bring my things into the room while you guys figure out how to entertain yourselves.”

Andra follows after Tashi as she’s going back and forth, bringing her things and arranging them and Art’s things. Andra sits on the edge of the bed waiting for Tashi who raises a brow at her. Art lets out a long exhale as he listens to the door slide closed and Patrick gets to his feet to place his backpack on the floor. Stretching his arms above his head, he moves towards the wall where the front door is to mess with the record player.

“Just make yourself at home, why don’t you?” Art mutters to Patrick as he flicks through some records and picks a random one to place down.

Patrick shrugs, “what am I supposed to do? Just sit around and wait for you to talk to me?”

“You’re lucky that Andra even opened the door.”

“What is this? You finding a new team member to replace me? Don’t forget that I’m always your number one.” Patrick leaves the needle off as he burns his stare into Art who’s resting his hands on the counter.

“Are you fucken serious right now? No way are you saying that to me when you did what did behind my back, again.”

Patrick rests his hand on his chest, “you’re acting as if I knew, which I didn’t, and what we’ve been over already! I would never try to take Lily away in the first place, I’m fine being uncle Patrick and I’ll still love her regardless.”

“Well shit, thanks for your permission!”

In the room, Tashi has now taken a space on the bed, arms crossed while Andra stands in front of her. “…Do you really think being here smothering him is the best choice?”

“Smothering?” Tashi scoffs, “Art fucked off for two weeks and he folded right into your arms. Whether you like it or not, I’m his wife and he’ll always need me.”

“Tashi…you had him believing that lily was his—

“She is!” Tashi exclaimed, “you honestly think Patrick would be a good father and god forbid a husband? They’re not children, they’re men and should start acting like it. Those white boys wouldn’t be shit without me and you know it, which is why you walked away.”

Andra frowned, “I don’t have anything to do with your relationships with Pat and Art so I don’t appreciate you trying to wrap me into your bullshit. I’ve been out the mix, sis. You’re already in my house, which takes a lot of balls from the both of you after you did Art dirty.”

“Art, art, art, art, art! Jesus! Did you fuck him already? Was it even better now than back when you were nineteen?”

One thing about Tashi, she knew how to be so disrespectful. However it had no effect on Andra as a smile split over her lips at the blunt short haired woman. It wasn’t a secret that Art was Andra’s first before he decided to start going after Tashi. They were each other’s flings and that was good enough for Andra as long as he wasn’t screwing anybody else that didn’t deserve him. It was her mistake then and maybe it would have been her mistake now if they had more time on that couch.

She didn’t need Tashi picking at scabs.

“Would that make you feel better?” Andra asked with a tilt of her head, “voluntarily giving us a pass for what exactly? To even the score?”

Tashi smirks, “You were always my greatest weapon and I don’t get even, I win.”

Patrick stands on the other side of the counter, taking Art’s glare, “I don’t know what you want from me, man. We were back to normal, great even! I’m at my best and you’re going out with a bang, don’t let this ruin how far we’ve come.”

Art huffs, “I’ll decide.”

“Fine, whatever you want but don’t make it another thirteen years.” Patrick snaps, “…where’s the booze?”

Andra pats at her scalp in frustration, “if you have any respect for me as a past friend, you’ll do right.”

“What’s your definition of right?” Tashi rolls her hands around trying to understand, “Leaving when it gets tough and having unrequited love?”

“What’s yours?” Andra debates stepping to Tashi who gets up in her face, “Cheating on your husband, having a baby on him, lying to him for years, and still walking around like the mean girl you are? Let me tell you something Ms. bob, we’re grown now and it’s tired.”

Tashi sizes Andra up, “it’s cute that you think you have a back bone now. Took you long enough.”

“Keep trying me and you’ll see just how that back bone works.”

Tashi kisses her lips at Andra who steps back, “great talk.”

“You haven’t changed and I don’t think you ever will. I’m glad I walked away from this friendship years ago, you make me sick.” Andra snips over her shoulder as she reaches for the handles.

Tashi fans her hand, “oh fuck you and your excuses. You’re just looking to point the finger at every bad guy to make yourself feel better about your lack of drive for anything.”

“What?” Andra whips around, “You’re the only miserable one I see here. At first I thought it was ambition but that turned into greed and then control. You’re just mad that I would no longer let you diminish my voice. I’ve had enough of that with my own mother! I’m not tennis, I’m more than that, which you’re not and that bothers you so maybe you’re the one that’s really sick.”

Tashi claps it up while Andra stares up at the ceiling, “glad you finally found your voice and told me how you really feel in person, instead of laying it out to the public like you should have. Only took you forever.”

Andra shrugs her shoulders, “if I have something to say, I’ll say it to your face.”

Tashi hums as she steps to Andra this time, brown eyes scanning over her features,“Tell me more.”

“I don’t want to do this with you anymore, Tash.” Andra’s hands are up in the air, “I removed myself from the situation long ago and after this weekend here, I don’t want to talk about it anymore. We just don’t mesh and that’s okay, I have boundaries and you have crazy standards that you expect everybody to follow. Art and I were cool before you came into the picture—

“Aht, don’t do that. We were high school friends before Art. Why should some man come between us?”

This was true, Andra and Tashi were the best of friends anyone can have as teenagers starting from their junior year. This wasn’t their first fight and wouldn’t be their last. They were in different groups by the time Andra came along since she was from Virginia but her family moved out to California when she was fourteen. They knew of each other since they had gym class together but didn’t get the chance to form a friendship until they were sixteen.

“You don’t get it,” Andra sighs, “it wasn’t just Art. It was everything for me and it would have killed me so I chose a different path. If you wanna be mad at me still over that, fine. We can’t change each other.”

“You honestly think that’s what our relationship was?” Tashi pries, “it was about challenging each other and shaping each other into the best of the best.”

Andra tightens her stare, “So tell me Tash, do you like the result?”

Tashi inhales, thoughts wandering as there’s more harsh knocks at the door. Andra deeply frowns figuring it’s Patrick who locked himself out as she looks away from Tashi, sliding the doors back to peek out. She can’t see from the doorway but she also doesn’t hear Patrick or Art talking.

The knocking sounds again and Andra steps out, followed by Tashi. Andra sees Art walking over to the door while Patrick brings his attention away from tinder on his phone.

“I thought it was you,” Andra tells Patrick, shoving his shoulder, making him lift his head to peek up at her.

Patrick snorts, “nah. My serve is more baseline.”

Tashi walks along the path between the couch and sliding doors, peering at the view of the afternoon sky turning lightly yellow against the blue. There’s birds in the sky but they’re flying further away. All of their heads turn back to the knocking, leaving Art to unlock it before Andra tells him to ask who it is.

Her attention is pulled away as Patrick starts carrying a conversation about dinner but she’s curious to who’s at the door. She see’s Art standing up straight before closing the door, locking it while holding a piece of paper.

“Who was it?” Patrick examines as Art makes his way over to the three still holding onto a fallen paper.

The blond shrugs, “some girl looking for some other girl.”

“God, I hope it didn’t slip to the paps that we’re out here.” Tashi actually seems uneasy about that, perhaps this news was more damaging than she was letting on.

Art replies, “Yeah that would not be great.”

“I mean…would it be the worst?” Patrick sits up on his elbows, “The press is hot right now and I’m the hottest topic—which I should be.”

“Yeah mainly for having a kid with your coach, who happens to be my wife.” Art retorts, “You should be so proud.” He flicks the paper into the air, leaving Patrick to reach up and snatch it.

Patrick turns his attention to Andra who’s sitting on the other side of the lounging shaven man, “…you never told us this was some religious town.”

“What?” Andra frowns, trying to not dissociate.

Patrick holds the paper up in the air as if it’s show and tell, “Latter-day saints? Don’t tell us you invited us here to join a cult?”

“I didn��t invite you!” Andra declared while Patrick flicks the paper to the ground and raised his hands in surrender.

Tashi asks Art, “what’s the name of the girl she said she was looking for?”

“It wasn’t Tashi.” Art notifies, “don’t worry.”

Tashi breathed out a laugh, “me? Never.”

Art moves to sit at the dining table glancing at the three in the room. Andra’s gone quiet, Patrick’s humming a tune while he’s messing around with his phone again, and Tashi is burning her stare into him. He knows they’re going to have to talk at some point during this trip but for now?

“Andie and I ate not too long ago but nows a good as time as any to decide what to eat for dinner. So…any suggestions?” Art questions, eyes moving around the sitting room.

Tashi mumbles that it doesn’t matter, arms crossed as she also seems to have a lot on her mind. Patrick is sitting up against the arm of the couch now, blabbing about many options that most likely wasn’t in the fridge or freezer. Art’s eyes are on Andra as she moves to pull the large curtain over the sliding doors, which makes Tashi eye Art watching her as well.

Andra moves back to the kitchen, pulling out some already prepared items from her assistant to rest on the counter. Patrick’s back at the record player and Tashi has now taken Patrick’s spot on the couch.

The braided woman flinches as she feels hands lightly grip her hips. “Hey, are you okay?”

Andra nods, “yeah…I think so. You?”

“Ask me tomorrow,” Art whispers into her ear.

Andra utters, “just need to get through tonight.”

“Yup. Perhaps slow and steady wins this race?” Art guesses as he swiftly presses a kiss to Andra’s hairline by her personalized chocolate chip.

When he leaves her side, Art catches Patrick’s eyes who has his brows raised at that exchange, waiting for Art to tell him something with Art’s own eyes. Art just shifts his blues, leaving the main area to take a minute to himself. That doesn’t last as Patrick shortly follows after Art, seeking answers about what his plan was with Andromeda.

Tashi turns to Andra as Patrick disappears into her shared room with her husband.

“Guess it’s our turn to be fucking housewives, huh?”

Andra leans her elbows along the counter, feeling a cramp in her stomach while she breathed through it, “the real ones just exited the scene.”

Tashi laughs at this as she pushes to her feet looking for a drink. She wouldn’t exactly call this, “happy hour,” but it’ll do for now. Andra knows it’s bad luck not to cheers and Tashi Duncan was one of the last people she wanted to do so with but Andra had a feeling that she didn’t want anymore bad luck.

So the glasses clinked while Patrick and Art hashed it out behind the barn doors. Outside of the cottage by the water, stands a darkened silhouette underneath the slight shade of a dogwood tree, just lurking and waiting for the right time to rally.

Dollface would soon be ready for the next task once the hours passed with some friends to bring to the match.

.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *

Continue with my summer anthology writings & prompts here.

#challengers movie #challengers #challengers 2024 #challengers x reader #art donaldson #art donaldson x black!reader #art donaldson x oc #art donaldson x female reader #mike faist #tashi duncan #tashi donaldson #tashi duncan x reader #tashi duncan x oc #patrick zweig #the strangers #the strangers chapter 1 #queued #summer writings

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arecaceae175 · 6 months ago

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For Want Of Rest: Ch. 4

FAN JOY JULY!

Fic Summary: Five times Sky falls asleep somewhere that isn’t a bed plus one time they all do. Or, Sky struggles to manage his disabilities, then the chain has a conversation about accessibility and accommodations.

Fan Joy July! Each chapter is inspired a few amazing art pieces of Sleepy Sky <3. There are plenty more chapters and art inspirations to come :D

Chapter Summary: Sky struggles to stay awake as the chain travels. 1.3k, angst and hurt/comfort. Also Legend decided to use she/her pronouns in this one, apparently. Good for her

Art pieces:

Sky snoozing by @narsh-poptarts Sky and Wars napping by @sraksha

My favorite thing about narsh-poptarts's art is how much the pose mimics the one in the game. Even later in life, blorbo is still the same eepy blorbo. I also think the pose is cool and it looks hard to draw!

Sraksha's art is always amazing. It's such a distinct, soft style that is perfect for two blorbos napping. I love how Warriors is smiling in the second panel. He is very proud of himself for helping his brother be comfy <3

Chapter warnings: could be read as dissociation, but is intended to be blorbo being soooo fucking tired. Also Sky continues to be an unreliable narrator with low self esteem and internalized ableism (directed towards himself, not others)

“You good, Sky?”

Sky held back a sigh and forced a small smile instead. Ever since they found him passed out beneath the tree, one of the other heroes was never far from Sky. He was glad he was used to living in close quarters on Skyloft and used to Groose’s anxious clinginess; some of the others surely would’ve snapped by now. Every time he felt frustration bubbling at his family’s overbearing concern, he had to remind himself that he was thankful they cared so much.

Legend was watching him with thinly veiled concern. Against his will, Sky’s eyes darted to the braces on Legend’s knees and the compression gloves on her hands. Sky felt the burn of shame. He could ignore the ache in his joints and the fatigue dragging him down. He didn’t want to be the one to slow down the group.

“I can keep going,” Sky said.

“Not what I asked.”

Sky felt the tips of his ears go pink. “I’m okay. Are you? Do you need a break?”

“If I need a break, I’ll ask for one,” Legend said pointedly, narrowing her eyes at Sky.

Sky shrugged and turned away. A break would be nice, but he didn’t need one. The pain wasn’t unbearable yet, and he was still moving. As long as he wasn’t assigned to a watch shift tonight, and they made it to a place to stop early in the day tomorrow, it would be fine. He could handle it.

Legend’s stare weighed on Sky’s shoulder for another moment, before Sky heard her huff and stomp away. Disappointment twinged in Sky’s chest, but he couldn’t quite figure out why. His gaze went back to his feet and he tried to let himself zone out, just barely watching for hazards he could trip on. It was easier than focusing on the pain in his hips or knees or back or feet or head or the one weird, sharp twinge in his ankle— that was new, what was that about?

It must have worked, because next thing he knew, Four’s stopped feet appeared in his view. Sky barely scrambled to a stop before he ran into Four, and he still had to put a hand on Four’s shoulder to steady himself. He muttered an apology as he took a step back. Four smiled and waved it away.

Sky glanced around. They were still in the woods— which did not make Sky want to cry, not at all. The path ahead was split into three forks. Wild, Time, and Twilight were crowded around a broken signpost trying to make sense of the directions.

Pain slammed into him with full force. His legs were shaking minutely. Sky felt himself sway, and he desperately looked around for the nearest tree to discreetly lean against. Things always felt worse just standing. If they were going to be here for more than a few more seconds, Sky really needed to find a spot to rest.

“Hey,” Legend said quietly.

Sky looked at her in surprise. She inclined her head towards Sky’s left and raised her eyebrows. Sky followed her gaze and saw a tree stump partially hidden from Sky’s view. Sky felt himself sag with relief and immediately went for the stump. He collapsed on top of it with less grace than he would like to admit. Against his will, his eyes slid shut immediately. He crossed his arms and clenched his fists into the fabric of his sleeves as he breathed through the wave of pain in his hips and back with the new pressure.

The voices of the others faded into background noise as Sky began slipping into a light doze. Sky could still hear the words, but he didn’t put much effort into processing them. Someone would get him when they needed to move again.

A voice rose louder than the others. “Um, guys?”

Sky startled, ever so slightly. Sky knew he should probably open his eyes to see what the problem was, but he couldn’t muster the energy. There was a span of silence.

“Is this a safe place to make camp?”

“Fresh monster tracks.”

Another pause. The voices faded into a buzz.

“Sky.”

Sky jolted, then winced as his back twinged. He rubbed his dry eyes. “Hm?”

Hyrule smiled apologetically and held out a hand. “We’re moving on.”

“Oh. Okay.” Sky stifled a yawn as he took Hyrule’s offered hand and let the traveler pull him to his feet. “Thanks.”

Hyrule’s smile widened. “‘Course.”

As they started to walk again, Sky tried to focus on anything besides his body. He looked around the path and noticed a hero was missing.

“Where’s Twilight?” Sky asked.

“Scouting ahead,” Hyrule said. His ears twitched, and wasn’t looking at Sky. If Sky had any energy, he would’ve pressed. His thoughts were too heavy for that, so Sky just hummed a reply.

An amount of time passed. Sky didn’t know how much. Staying upright and putting one foot in front of the other was taking all his concentration. An amount of time passed, and then Twilight was jogging down the path towards them.

“There’s a cave close. A few monsters outside, but it don’t look too deep. We can clear it,” Twilight said.

Sky frowned. His accent was thicker than usual. That usually meant he was tired, hurt, or stressed.

“It’s a tight fit, though,” Twilight continued.

“We’ll split up,” Time said. “Legend?”

Legend shook his head. “I’d rather keep moving.”

“I can stay,” Warriors said.

“Um.” Sky cleared his throat. His ears pinned themselves to his head as Sky grabbed his sailcloth to fiddle with it. “I don’t think I would be the most helpful right now.”

Warriors, with clear movements in Sky’s line of sight, patted Sky’s shoulder. “We’ll stay back.”

“I’ll stay, too. I’ve got a bit of a headache,” Four said, tapping his temple lightly with one finger.

“Come on, then. It’s close,” Twilight said.

“Stay safe,” Warriors called as the group left.

Sky’s eyes burned, both with forming tears and the dryness of exhaustion. He hated feeling like he let the others down. He hated being too slow.

Sky stepped far enough to be off the path and collapsed in a heap against a rock. He curled his sailcloth around himself and let his eyes slide shut, then let his head fall against the rock. His entire body throbbed.

“Do you need anything for the headache?” Warriors asked.

“No, it’s not bad. More pressure than pain, really. I’ll stand watch if you want to…” Four trailed off.

Sky’s neck protested the angle with sharp pains. He huffed a watery breath of frustration and dragged an arm up to rest between his head and the rock.

Leaves crunched as footsteps approached.

“Sky?” Warriors asked softly. His voice was closer than Sky expected. He dragged his eyes open and saw Warriors kneeling beside him.

“Hm?”

“Do you want to lean on me? It’ll be more comfortable than the rock.”

Sky briefly considered protesting, but exhaustion and pain won over. He nodded wordlessly and pushed himself off the rock just a bit. Warriors smiled and settled against the rock just behind Sky with his head pillowed on his hands.

“Touch is okay?” Sky had to check.

Warriors smiled and nodded. “I wouldn’t have offered otherwise. Here.”

Warriors gently guided Sky to lean back against his side. With the way he had his arms up, Sky’s head fit securely on his shoulder. Sky scooted until his back was fully supported and extended his sharply aching knee. He wanted to thank Warriors, but he couldn’t find the energy to open his mouth.

Sky’s eyes slid shut as the aching in his body settled. He’d be sure to thank Warriors tomorrow.

Endnotes: By the way, in case any of the implied stuff wasn’t clear: when Legend left Sky, she went up to Time and Wild and said “Birdbrain needs a break. Don’t make it obvious.” And then when Sky’s on the stump, they’re trying to figure out if they can stop and rest because Sky is clearly having a horrible time. Wolfie is sent to scout for the nearest place to rest, even though they won’t make it to wherever they were going. And they split up on purpose so Sky doesn’t have to fight. There is plenty of room at the cave. Sky doesn’t know any of that though. Blorbos :)

#ace writes #Fan Joy July #fanjoyjuly #fanjoyjuly2024 #linked universe #lu sky #lu legend #lu warriors #and everyone else #but those do things #disabled sky #disabled legend #:)

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shinyzango · 10 months ago

Note

Just curious, opinions on the different nutcrackers that you know of from all kinds of media and stuff?

Sorry if anyone asked this before I wouldn't know

Love your art and characters by the way keep it up!

Hohohohohohohoho, we be opening the Pandora Box here. Not that I'm complaining~

So, this is going to be a very long post as I've seen a lot of the movies. I also have a couple books which I can give my opinion, and I'm familiar with various apparitions in videogames and such. So yeah this is going to be a loooooooong post.

So buckle up, grab a drink and enjoy the ride into my personal madness o7

[ CAREFUL, VERY LONG POST UNDER THE CUT ]

So, let's start with movies as those are easier to grab and talk about for me. I'm gonna go with their year of release ot keep things organized.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Shchelkunchik (1973)

Small silly dramatic guy, I like him! The animators did a great job animating his design and make him incredibly appealing. As for his human appearance, eeeeeh I don't really care for him. Definitely a shock the first time you see it lol But yes, adorable silly guy

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Nutcracker Fantasy (1979)

Li'l guy. It is Sanrio so it's bound to be on the cute side. The Nutcracker itself doesn't do much in the movie, but as for Fritz himself, I... honestly don't care about him. He looks pretty, but personality wise he needs to work on it pff Idk he just comes out as plain and a little arrogant... Still a fine fellow, though.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Nutcracker: The Motion Picture (1986)

One of the two ballet-based movies I've seen, and definitely the better one of the two imo. And good lord I love this guy. He may look terrifying but good lord if he's silly. And I actually don't mind his human appearance as simple as it is. Silly man, this one.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The Nutcracker Prince (1990)

HIM. MY BELOVED. THE GOOD LAD. Definitely my favorite, and not because this was my most beloved childhood movie. He is such a sweetheart with a hint of awkwardness but who can still kick your ass. And the final scene in the castle in the Italian dub is just *chef kiss* 10/10 lad.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The Nutcracker (1993)

The other ballet-based movie... it's just Macaulay Culkin. And his nutcracker costume looks hideous lol. Nothign to say. Surprisingly, he's not the worst one.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The Nuttiest Nutcracker (1999)

Ripoff Ken. He is incredibly dumb, and a tiny bit of a freak, but could be worse honestly kdjng They did Barbie before Barbie did it lol that's p much it.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Barbie in the Nutcracker (2001)

THE OTHER GOOD LAD. I love Eric so much he's such a sweetheart wanting to fix his mistakes. It's so easy to root for him. As for his human appearance... he's just Ken skjngf 10/10 lad #2

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The Nutcracker and the MouseKing (2004)

Oh boy what to say about this one. Very hateful in the first half. At least he learns and becomes bearable at the last third of the movie. But I do like the nutcracker form, they made the blocky design work as well, like later on it's actually very nice to see him move. Still, horrible personality. Needs a slap in the face.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Nutcracker in 3D / Nutcracker: The Untold Story (2010)

Hellspawn. Nightmare fuel. Abomination. Who the hell approved to that design?? And why did they pitch up his voice like that?? At least the kid playing human NC is not as bad, but good lord. 0/10 Just burn that puppet with fire, please.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The Nutcracker and the Four Realms (2018)

This one just pisses me off. This one had so much potential, and the actor is actually good. It's just the way his character was written that is dog awful. They made him basically a dumb side character who barely does anything despite everyone in the movie treating him like he's a big shot. And the the fact that this was made by Disney just makes this worse. Just so much lost potential.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The Nutcracker (???)

I actually don't know who made this movie or in which year, but I do like this one. The movie is comedic so he's a bit silly, but he's still quite enjoyable. And for some reason he reminds me of Waluigi.... Still, silly guy.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

That's all for the movies. There are a bunch more that I've missed or that I can't find anymore so my list of opinions on them is not complete. But one day...

---

As for other medias, hm... I have a couple books that are just the original story by Hoffman and the retell by Duman (of which I don't have much to say) and the graphic novel by Natalie Andrewson.

He's just a li'l guy, silly kid but enjoyable.

---

Lastly, while there are no actual nutcracker based games, I do want to mention a few skins and characters I am aware of for the hell of it. I'm pretty sure I will be forgetting some but eh.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Terraria

Silly guy that speeeens. I wish I didn't have to kill them skgjfn.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Overwatch

As much as I now despise Overwatch for many reasons, I still love Zenyatta's nutcracker skin to death. Look at this silly guy. Definitely my favorite skin in the game.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Saints Row IV

SR4 had a Christmas themed DLC, and among all the xmas reskins of the enemies, one was the terminator-like enemies being turned into Nutcrackers. And their design look so sick.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Fortnite

I don't play Fortnite, but I do have to admit that the nutcracker guy looks neat. The crazy look fits the look quite well. If I would ever get in there (I doubt it but still), that would definitely be the skin I would use.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Lethal Company

I don't play LC neither but I've seen videos of the nutcracker enemy in action, and yeah he looks silly. I love how he moves around.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

That's all of the apparitions that I can think of. I'm also aware of the point-and-click game made by Big Fish Games, but I have not played it myself. I really should do that one day...

---

Aaaaaand that's a wrap. I'm definitely forgetting a nutboi or two somewhere but these are all the ones I can think of at the top of my head that are officially published and all.

If we start talking about folks in social medias I've come to know over the years... I'm gonna be here for 3 months trying to talk about them dkjfgn

Well, hope you enjoyed this personal spiraling into nut madness :V

#nutcracker #the nutcracker

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partially-controlled-chaos · 4 months ago

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When We Were Young

Pairing: Halsin x f!Tav (Tavriel) Rating: G (General) Warnings: None, really. Little bit of smoochin' at the end. Just completely self-indulgent fluff for my own sanity. Summary: Deep in the autumn forest, Halsin and Tavriel share a sweet, if not awkward, moment to themselves. Pre-tattoo, pre-scar, love-lorn 90 year old druid initiate Halsin being completely inexperienced with anything romantic. Word Count: 3.7K A/N: A hurricane knocked out my power for a few days last weekend, so without access to my other WIPs or electronics, I hand wrote a complete self-indulgent fic for young Halsin and my original Tav. Once I started typing it out to post, I fluffed it up a little bit so it ended up being a good bit longer than my original drabble, but shorter than what I normally write. I recently revamped the backstory for my original Tav after seeing young Halsin art from @ozumii-fucking-wizard (thank you for blessing this site with your young Halsin art, it's amazing and for absolutely rotting my brain with young Halsin). I've never been a huge fan of "companions knowing Tav before the events of the game", but I played around with this idea and I've ended up loving it for Tavriel. I have stories previously posted for her that are a complete 180 from what I'm going with now, but I'm very please with the new lore I have for her. Might make a lore sheet or mini fic at some point, but I haven't completely decided. I do have a handful of more small ideas for Halsin and Tavriel so I'll probably sprinkle them in between my normal stuff. Also, hi hello @thoughts-of-bear , it's the fic I'd mentioned like a week ago that I finally posted

Read on AO3 here!

Masterlist

The sun hung low in the sky, casting the surrounding forest in a rich orange glow. Leaves of nearby oak trees turned shades of yellow and red, gently falling from their branches with each gust of wind, swirling in the air before softly landing on the ground. Acorns and pinecones littered the forest floor as autumn approached, sprinkled amongst small patches of mushrooms that grew in shaded spots. Bare feet darted against the ground in rapid succession, barely making a sound before lifting and leaping to the next patch of hard dirt or sun-kissed grass. Tavriel moved quickly through the trees, weaving through towering oaks and over fallen logs with an ethereal grace and swiftness as she sprinted away from the darkened thicket she called home and towards an open field.

She left the area practically untouched as she traversed the land of her home, simply stirring freshly fallen leaves with the wisps of air that that flowed from the ends of her linen robes. With each step she took, she could hear the heavy footsteps of those following her grow fainter, leaving the forest in a gradual silence. As a final obstacle, Tavriel crossed a small stream, gracefully leaping from one wet river stone to another, lifting her robes above her ankles to keep them dry. Cold water soaked her toes as she crossed, sending a chill through her legs until she made contact with land once more.

Tavriel began to slow, her full blown sprint having tapered off to a slow trot before finally coming to a stop in the middle of a field of golden wheat grass. Her lungs burned from the exertion, chest heaving as she took in sucking breaths of the warm, late afternoon air. An earthy scent filled the area, picked up by the wind as it wove its way through the tall grass and to her nose. A pleasant smile graced her lips, tugging the corners of her mouth towards the sky as her eyelids softly closed and her head tilted back to face the sky. Warm wisps of wind blew through the long, fiery orange tresses that adorned her head, drying the light layer of sweat that had formed against her face from her run. Time had slowed as she took in the serenity of the moment, simply basking in the warmth the sun offered.

The earth hummed beneath her feet, strong and loud enough to feel in her bones. The soft points of the grass licked at the ends of her fingers as her arms came down beside her, the gentle wind blowing causing the blades to tickle her fingertips. Songs of birds that thrived in the evenings began to sound off in the distance, signaling the end of another day. If she focused hard enough, Tavriel could swear she could hear the hushed voice of the forest calling to her, beckoning her back into the safety the trees and bushes offered.

A large branch cracked in the distance and her eyes snapped open at the sound, breath hitching in her throat as she focused her hearing. Tavriel felt the muscles of her legs tighten and coil, ready to snap and spring her forward in a quick escape if needed. She silently cursed herself for becoming distracted; a dangerous game to play for someone who was undoubtedly being hunted. Instinct made her want to flee in an instant; to simply dart away and never be seen again. Tavriel wanted hide somewhere deep within the forest, curling in on herself and tucking her limbs close by and hide amongst the brush and foliage until the brightness of her hair was darkened from shadow and her scent was covered by moisture covered foliage. However, pure curiosity made her stay, waiting to see just what was coming from the forest.

Moments later, Halsin stepped from the tree line, taking a brief pause by the streams edge to regain his breath, hunching over slightly to rest his hands atop his knees. He was young and fit, having just celebrated his ninetieth birthday, but after such an extended amount of time swatting away tree limbs and stumbling over bushes, even he needed a break. His bright green eyes were locked on to Tavriel from across the river, who returned his gaze with a twinkle in her eyes and a smirk across her lips. He returned her smile, a cocky look on his face as he used the back of his hand to wipe beads of sweat from his upper lip.

It had been years, decades even, since they had played this game with each other. Running from one another to see who could be caught first before reversing roles, playing for hours at a time until they were both collapsed on the ground next to one another, too exhausted to move. They’d first started playing together as young children, having met by chance on a warm summers day. Being the secluded elf that she was, Tavriel was skittish and wary of strangers, even now, and each time he’d come across her in the woods, she’d dart off before he could make friends. It had taken a great deal of patience on Halsin’s part, and a few fresh honeyed buns he’d snatched white his mother’s back was turned, to finally persuade her to stay for a spell. Once they’d gotten comfortable with each other, Halsin and Tavriel had quickly become the best of friends. They would spend each day together, filling their days with laughter and fun from sunrise to sunset, always eager to see each other again the next morning.

As they grew older, their usual playtime gradually decreased and instead they spent their spare time simply in each others company as friends and learning the ways of the natural world together. Halsin’s druidic studies often took him away from Tavriel’s realm of wood, which was the thickest and deepest portion of the local forest, and instead placing him with elder druids with a book in his hands. While he enjoyed learning from the other druids and discovering their wonders of nature, he preferred to experience them firsthand with his friend at his side.

Tavriel spent her days roaming the forests she called home, ensuring her safety and solitude all while strengthening her own skills. She was graced with a magical prowess that she had yet to fully understand. She had never been formally taught magic, but learned what she knew mostly from aged tomes that had supposedly been left behind from her unknown mother and pure curiosity. She knew how to heal small wounds and speak with animals like many magic casters, but could also control aspects of nature. With a snap of her fingers she could summon a flame or with a wave of her hand she could call forth a gust of wind. The flow of water could change to her will and, depending on her mood and the season, small flowers would bloom in the wake of her foot prints. She didn’t fully understand the magic she had been born with, but each time she discovered something new was exhilarating. Her talents were not without its dangers. Many of her powers stemmed from her emotions, which opened the door for wither and decay if she was frightened or angry.

Tavriel was incredibly skilled with a bow, having learned the craft from her father before his passing, and used much of her spare time to fine tune her abilities. Overall she was a pacifist, so she spent most of her target practice on high hanging fruits and billowing leaves, but would occasionally hunt when she required sustenance other than what she could forage. Although she loved her solitude, she admittedly was fond of spending her time with Halsin and frequently missed him when he didn’t come striding into her realm of the woods each morning.

“It’s barely been a week since you’ve been in these woods and you’re already tired?” Tavriel teased from across the river, “The bear must be preparing for hibernation.”

“And the fox should know better than to taunt a bear on the hunt.” Halsin shouted back, straightening has back as he spoke.

Without another word, Halsin lunged forward, quickly crossing the river before sprinting as fast as he could towards the elf. Tavriel took off once again, her feet carrying her just as quickly as before, but not quite fast enough to outrun the young man on her heels. Tavriel held the advantage when deep in a thicket, her stature and almost other worldly sense of nature gave her an advantage over the aspiring young druid. She could tuck herself into the smallest of spaces and weave her way through dense foliage like a gentle breeze, letting her slip away and remain undetected if the needed was ever present.

Halsin, on the other hand, was certainly at a disadvantage. He was a broad young man, much taller and broader than any of the other elves in his clan, making it much more difficult for him to maneuver his way through a forest when compared to Tavriel. He frequently became snagged on low hanging branches or thorny vines, forcing him to take the time to remove himself from natures sudden embrace before continuing. However, he held the advantage when it came to open land. His long legs allowing him to close long distances easily with little exertion.

It didn’t take long for him to catch up, closing the distance between them in mere moments, and if he were to reach out, he could almost touch the flowing ends of her hair. Sensing the larger man on her heels, she gathered her strength and pushed on, creating a very small gap between herself and Halsin, although it wouldn’t be enough to insure her freedom. Tavriel made a split second decision to change her path and cut to the side, hoping the tactic would allow her to slip right past druid and back into the tree line not too far away. Unfortunately for Tavriel, it was a trick she’d used many times before to evade Halsin’s grasp and it was one he was anticipating. With her change in direction, she inadvertently stepped closer to the druid, allowing him to simply reach out and grab her.

Halsin’s hands suddenly gripped her sides, squeezing firmly enough to lift her partially into the air mid stride without dropping her, but not enough to bruise her delicate skin. A quick yelp of surprise slipped from Tavriel’s lips before erupting in a flurry of giggles. In an attempt to slow down, Halsin spun slightly, bringing Tavriel with him, but lost his footing in the process. He tumbled backwards, his back hitting the ground as a grunt left his chest. He still held the elf in his hands, who’s back had landed on his chest and she was suddenly staring up at an orange sky.

They paused momentarily where they lay, catching their breath and getting familiar with their sudden change of view. Tavriel saw this as an opportunity to escape by prying Halsin’s grasp from her waist and rolling her body off him and onto the dirt below. She found her footing beneath her as her hands dug into the dirt, ready to launch herself forward. Before she was able to start another mad sprint towards the tree line, she felt a set of large hands grab at her waist once more, pulling her back to the ground. With a triumphant smile and quick movements, Halsin pinned Tavriel into the dirt by her hips after pushing her onto her back. He rested the weight of his large frame atop her much smaller one, effectively trapping her for good.

“That’s cheating.” Tavriel managed to say between fits of laughter, smacking Halsin’s bicep with a playful hit.

“Had you not stopped,” Halsin panted as he came down to rest on his forearms, caging the young woman beneath him, “you might have slipped away, dearest fox.”

“Can you blame me?” She asked breathlessly, “It’s only natural to stop and take in something so beautiful.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Halsin said softly, bringing his fingers over to tuck a wayward piece of orange hair behind her ear. He brushed her freckled cheek with the back of his fingers, marveling at just how soft her skin was, considering she lived in nature and forewent any sense of shelter from a structure not built from a canopy of leaves.

Tavriel had been one of his closest friends for years, eventually becoming a confidant and someone he felt safe with, but nothing had ever progressed from the companionship. Their relationship had never been anything more than platonic, but Halsin’s feelings had begun to shift as of late. He found himself stealing more glances than normal, a new and exciting flutter rippling across his chest each time he could look more than a few seconds and he could properly take in her features. Tavriel’s copper colored hair was as bright as the autumn sun and was often braided to keep her face clear of her locks while the rest cascaded down her back, resting neatly between her shoulder blades. Her eyes were as deep and green as the forest she called home, flecked with bits of gold that almost glowed if the sun caught her at the right angle. Her sun-kissed skin was littered with freckles from head to toe, the darkest ones sitting atop her shoulders and across the bridge of her nose.

Her scent had become intoxicating lately, making the would-be druid’s head spin if he stood too close. She smelled of the forest, as earthy and hardy as the deepest part of the woodlands where she dwelled. But there was also a hint of something he couldn’t quite describe, yet equally enchanting. She smelled of an otherworldly celestial magic, something ancient and almost forgotten that clung to her skin like moss on a damp rock. He’d never met another mortal soul capable of that kind of magic; the only other instance that came to mind was the power the land spirit Thaniel possessed. Growing up, Halsin had been told stories of a race of deep wood elves that lived in the thickest parts of the land, preferring a life of seclusion and isolation all while worshipping the goddess of the forest, Mielikki, instead of Silvanus. He had also heard how the last remaining deep forest elves had died off long ago, leaving the forest silent and forgotten, yet Halsin couldn’t help but wonder if Tavriel was one of the last remaining of that clan. She lived alone in a hidden spot deep in the brush, the location itself was a mystery even to him, and she’d had no family or clan to call her own for decades now.

His thumb slowly traced along her bottom lip, which was supple and rose tinted, as his forefinger slipped under her chin, slowly tilting her head to the side. Despite his age, Halsin had never kissed, aside from the kiss to the cheek he would get from his mother each morning, and the urge to feel Tavriel’s lips against his own was becoming overwhelming. His stomach twisted into knots as he considered leaning forward to close the gap between them, unsure of how his dearest friend would react. Despite their bond, Tavriel was prone to secrecy and mystery. Halsin often had times deciphering her feelings if she didn’t outright say what was on her mind, which made her difficult to read. He could feel her heart beating in her chest, the vibrations echoing against his own frame. His own heart fluttered as her tongue poked out lightly and wet her tinted lips, her eyes half-lidded in an unspoken expectation of what was to come.

Being the impatient and overeager young man that he was, Halsin dipped his head down, hoping to take Tavriel’s lips with his own in one sweeping, fairytale romantic gesture. It was something he’d played over and over in his mind for days now. Then when and where were something he couldn’t pin, but the how was certainly within his realm of control. He could see it in his mind’s eye, his lips pressing against her in a brief, yet meaningful kiss. Nothing too forward or abrupt, just the beginning notes of a young love. She then, of course, would kiss him back after he pulled away from her, pulling him down to her by the collar of his druid initiate outfit and wrap her arms around his neck. In turn, he would tangle his fingers in her soft hair, smiling against her lips as they lay together in their golden field of wheat, sharing quick, loving kisses until nightfall.

Instead, in his excitement, he rushed forward too quickly, bashing his front teeth against Tavriel’s before their lips could properly connect, filling the space with an audible clack. Halsin felt his chest seize with fear as Tavriel made an audible gasp and could taste a sudden rush of something warm, wet, and metallic against his lips. Her upper lip had gotten caught between their teeth, the delicate skin tearing and bleeding at the sudden force. She could taste the blood on her tongue, instinctively running the appendage over the wound, which was rather small.

Without hesitation, Halsin lifted himself from atop her frame, sitting back on his knees before gently taking the elf by the shoulders and helping her sit up. Before she could speak, Halsin’s hands were on her cheeks, tilting her head towards the remaining light of the fading sun as his thumbs came to her lips, pulling the skin taught so he could inspect the wound. The cut itself was difficult to see, given the smeared blood and saliva that now lingered on her skin.

“Please, Tavriel,” Halsin said frantically, “f-forgive me I didn’t— I-I was over eager.” Halsin’s mind raced as he tried to remember the incantation for a healing spell, suddenly regretting skipping a few of his medicinal lessons.

Tavriel brought her fingertips to her bleeding lip, wiping away the blood that had already stopped dripping. Her lip was a little tender, but nothing a short test couldn't fix. She couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of the moment. Greater things were happening in the world, yet all that seemed to matter was landing a perfect first kiss. She wiped the remaining blood from her mouth with her sleeve, fully prepared to brush lips with him again.

“Halsin,” she said softly, “it’s all right.” Halsin simply shook his head, refusing to believe his friend wasn’t angry with him, especially when he was furious with himself. Of all the times to blunder and show his inexperience, of course it had to be this moment. Although, he wasn’t the only one who was inexperienced. Given her life of solitude and a significant lack of other to socialize with, Tavriel had never experienced any sort of intimacy. When she first found herself conflicted with flutters of the stomach and heat in her cheeks, she first assumed she was ill or coming down with a sickness. It wasn’t until she connected these feelings to being in Halsin’s presence did she realize that it was no illness she was afflicted with, but the beginning stages of a young love.

Despite Tavriel’s protests, the young druid was practically beside himself with shame, still babbling away with apologizes and promises of making things right. With a slight roll of her eyes and a light chuckle, Tavriel took Halsin’s cheeks in her hands, pulling his gaze towards her long enough to keep him still. She pressed her lips to his gently, silencing his stammering and uncertainty with one fluid movement. Her eyes closed as she lingered, her body practically melting into Halsin’s chest, waiting for his embrace. She drug her hands down from the sides of his face and nestled them against the center of his chest, fingers latching into the leather bands of his outfit.

Relief washed over Halsin as Tavriel’s soft, if not slightly swollen, lips caressed his own. He was convinced that she would run off at his blunder; just disappear into the forest and refuse to see him, perhaps forever. Of course, it was his own youthful embarrassment causing these thoughts, especially when considering that he wasn’t fully sure that Tavriel felt the same way. One of his hands caressed her cheek while the other found purchase along the braids resting behind her head, pulling her close to him as he deepened the kiss.

When they finally pulled their lips from each other, they met the others gaze with a soft smile and a flush to their cheeks. Halsin bumped the tip of his nose against Tavriel’s, who returned the favor. She let out a light and airy giggle as she felt him nuzzle into her cheek moments later, pressing another light kiss to the light blush that had formed there. Their foreheads touched in a warm embrace, simply staying like that together until the sun was well below the horizon and the stars had begun to shine.

Once they parted, Halsin leaned forward to take her lips with his again, only to find that she had pulled away. He tilted his head to the side just slightly, his brows having knitted together as she came to her feet once again. His hands lingered on her body for as long as possible, savoring the warmth she brought until she had completely stepped away from his grasp. Initially, he thought he had perhaps done something wrong; been too forward of lingered too long.

“If you want another, dear bear,” she said softly, “you’ll have to go on the hunt again.” Her usual playful smirk returned to her lightly bruised lips. Halsin’s eyes flashed a light shimmer of gold as he watched her take off once again, bouncing into the forest at a pace that was anything but a hurry. Tavriel turned to face Halsin once her hand ran across the rough bark of an oak, her heart fluttering as she disappeared into the moon lit depths of the forest, Halsin having already made it more than halfway to her.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #halsin #young halsin #tav #halsin x tav #young halsin x tav #fanfiction #fanfic #bg3 fanfic #Tavriel

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ruporas · 1 year ago

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apologies if you've already been asked this but do you have any favorite trigun fics? i absolutely adore your art btw!

thank you!!! and i've answered this on insta, but i don't think i've ever shared on tumblr... i'm not good at reading fics, esp long ones, because my attention span is pretty bad, but from the ones i have bookmarked, i'll share some that i like in no particular order

hills like white elephants (meet me halfway) - adlvnam

pairing: vashwood word count: 1.1k, sfw, vague post v.10 spoilers ‘I read a story once,’ Vash says, unsure. ‘I’m kind of thinking about it right now.’

i like a lot of adlvnam's fics, i find them very unique and creative in their execution, and their writing is wonderful! this was the first fic i've read from them and it's stuck with me ever since. others that i like from them are in manus tuas (no spoilers) and vox dei (warning for post vol.10 spoilers).

stay - Anonymous

pairing: vashwood word count: 2.3k, sfw, no spoilers “Hold up,” Vash groans. He presses his free hand to Wolfwood’s mouth and shushes him. He’s probably going for a stern look, though between his poor attempts to stop grinning like the biggest idiot this side of the planet and the way he’s patting him, it’s hard to take him seriously. “Stop laughin’. Where’s the keys?” “What keys?” Wolfwood tries to ask, muffled by Vash’s hand, and his tongue is a little thick and slow in his mouth so… something comes out, but it’s probably not very wordy. Word-like. Not a sentence, probably. (or, wolfwood and vash get drunk, bicker, and then share a bed together.)

i enjoyed the mundanity and silliness of this fic and i think about it from time to time... i think fics where one of them or both drink together are pleasant to read.

Last Summer - varilien

pairing: vashwood word count: 741, sfw, no spoilers You are what you love.

tags on this one are "sunrises, morning routines, coffee, sentimental" which caught my attention. very sweet and beautiful.

Rain - Kokohamstar

pairing: none, wolfwood centric word count: 768, sfw, major spoilers - post v.10 Ever since he was a little kid listening to Bible stories, he dreamed of the day the world would be washed clean and wondered what the rain would feel like on his face.

as most wolfwood centric fics, it was a gutpunch and melancholic, but still soooo.. augh.... the last paragraph really does it for me.

water bucket blues - fathomfive

pairing: vashwood word count: 3.7k, sfw, major spoilers, post trimax Vash the Stampede goes on the record about a friend he once had. Also about card games, cats, family, and some other things. "Start with a piece of the whole, Meryl said. It doesn’t have to be the first piece. Start with a specific. That’s what they mean when they throw around the words human interest. I know the pieces. Believing they make a whole is another thing. But she’s a broadcast professional and I trust her advice. Maybe if I can figure out how to tell one piece—like the story of Wolfwood as I knew him—I can learn how to tell the others."

i love vash pov fics and i love it when it's first person and this one in particular hits because it's his pov and he speaks, honestly, openly, telling a tale that he can't really flub because it's about the people he loved. i love how grounded this fic is in the present of max, i love how vash grows within the 3.7k words, i love how he moves forward with the world he's living in. this fic makes me teary if i think too much about it... it's really wonderful.

it’s a summer day, and I want to be wanted more than anything else in the world - goldenglitz

pairing: vashwood word count: 3.9k, nsfw, no spoilers Vash has the lung capacity of a man who’s cried for 150 years. It isn't like Wolfwood takes more than he gives — but like with most things, he barely keeps up with Vash. He works his body to the limit, even as his lungs burn and his legs and arms give out under him. They fuck like they’re on borrowed time. All of this makes it so easy — so much easier than just talking. Wolfwood would sometimes rather pull new and interesting noises from Vash with just his mouth than do anything else with it. Their own dialect: moans, groans, and four words. “Yes” — “Please” — “Vash” — “Wolfwood.”

i love all of their vashwood fics, they only have 3 but they're all lovely and has a sort of characterization to both vash and wolfwood i don't see often. definitely one of my faves, especially when it comes to explicit vw fics.

i think these are all the ones i'll share for now!!

#asks #thanks for sending this!#one day ill get around to the chapters long fics that has really enticing summaries #most of the fics i like tends to be more trimax based i realized... It's not that surprising but i always go like yay yippee whenever i fin #a more max-canon fic - not something i intentionally hunt down for but i have my bias dmgkgs

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twodogs-twocats · 7 days ago

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You're Not Real, You're Just a Ghost (Sleep Token's Vessel x fem pov) 18+, NSFW

A little odd but needed to get written. This has some layers but you don't need to read into it if you don't want to.

Warnings: SMUT - 18+, Minors DNI.

You pick up the pen, set it to paper. Words pent up, nuanced emotions that have few outlets other than this one, scrawled to be read only by those with similar fantasies.

The weather is warm, the sun just set, and your curtains flutter in the breeze coming through the open window. You begin to write, painting a picture you have been slowly losing yourself to for some time.

Hairs on your neck suddenly raise, and you shiver. Perhaps a night chill has set in, so you make your way to close the window when a phantom touch caresses your wrist. You turn with a start only to find yourself quite alone in your bedroom. Feeling a bit vexed, you make your way back to your desk, and after a moment become absorbed once again by your cogitations.

The writing feels easy, driven by nothing but insatiable lust. It is an ancient art, really, to write about beauty and love and passion, and as the words pour out, you are nothing but one artist inspired by another. This goes on for some time, until you feel an ivory touch down the side of your neck.

Instead of reacting with fear, this time you sigh with pleasure. You know this touch. You summoned him here with nothing but the power of your mind.

You allow Vessel to brush his long fingers down your neck, open palms traveling to the front of your chest. His lips follow his fingers, soft kisses along your neck and collarbone making your bare toes curl against the wood floor. You close your eyes and release yourself to sensation.

Vessel kneads your breasts now, massaging them over your lacy white pajama top. He plucks your nipples under the fabric and you hiss through your teeth. His presence behind you is both ethereal and dominating, and when he speaks, it is like his voice is emanating from the very matter of your mind.

It has been so long since I’ve seen you.

You chuckle. “Oh Vessel, you are always here with me. You burn in my heart and my mind and in my very fingertips.”

He hums, slipping the straps of your top down your shoulders as he trails kisses across your skin. Your shirt pools at your waist, leaving you exposed to him and his touch glides down your arm to capture your hand. He brings your fingers to his lips, kissing them one by one.

I dream of these delicate fingers, he says. I yearn for their touch.

You turn now to face him, shifting yourself in your chair, and you are greeted by an apparition. He is Vessel - the mask, his black robe, the bare planes of his torso – so familiar that you can conjure his image at any moment. Yet he is shrouded. The details of him refuse to solidify as your mind struggles to grasp his form. He takes up every bare inch of space, both physical and cognitive, and still it is almost like he is not even there at all.

As your fingers come to the skin beneath the edges of his mask, you feel the prickle of stubble, the warmth of his body, and you also feel nothing. It is this very duality that makes Vessel so irresistible. He is both known and unknown to you.

Your touch his lips, his neck, his chest, and with each stroke, his face hovers closer to yours until finally he kisses you. You part your lips and his eager tongue slides into your mouth.

The kiss continues in the same way one would describe feasting, relentlessly and without restraint. With each brush of his lips, your thoughts rush to catch up with what’s next, what’s next, what’s next.

Then you find yourself on your bed, legs spread wide and the brush of a breeze causing your nipples to pucker.

Show me what you like, he says with his mind-speak. Show me how to touch you.

“Vessel, you know what I like.” He did, probably better than anyone else ever could.

But Vessel’s story needed to unfold, so you slide your pants down your hips and bring your fingers to your center. Your fingers part and swirl and move in and out just the way you like. You are uncertain when your fingers are replaced by his, so perfectly does he replicate your motions. Embers kindle to flames. Moans escape your lips, growing in pitch and intensity with each curl of his long fingers inside you, in and up. His other hand comes to gently circle your neck. He knows you like this, so he does not need to ask.

His lips resume their exploration, starting at the top of your sternum and navigating down your body until they join his hand, his spit mingling with your wetness. It is pure ecstasy, and still you want more.

Vessel senses this. Of course he does – your minds are connected, your spirits intertwined – and in this moment, the entirety of his existence is for nothing more than your pleasure. He begins to disrobe, and you would mourn the sudden chill on your core as his fingers and mouth depart, if you did not know that something even better was in store.

When his cock springs out, your mouth salivates. This part of him too is an enigma, and although you can grasp his hardness in your hand, although you know it is perfect just like every other inch of him, the only realness of it you can truly comprehend is the depth of your desire to feel it inside of you.

He enters you painfully slowly, inch by precious inch, stretching you physically just as he stretches your known bounds of pleasure. Your eyes roll upwards, your spine arches away from the bed. This feeling is like nothing you could ever imagine, but yet it is also exactly like you imagined. Vessel. Vessel. Vessel. Fucking you gently.

The curve of his hips hits you at exactly the right angles. His moans vibrate into your mind and in this moment you could almost cry. He is you and you are him and this is like the best of dreams, beautiful and sensual and yet just past the realm of reality.

His pace quickens and you find yourself entranced by the glisten of sweat on his chest. Each thrust burns brighter and brighter, your orgasm building with his. Fuck, he curses, final words spilled into you as you come together. You are left breathless.

He is perfection incarnate, the whole experience so utterly satiating except also never enough. He is so unclear it hurts, a low ache not quite severe enough to feel like a broken heart, but you are also pleased and so is he, joined by something too much like worship to really be called love.

What are you writing about? he asks as he holds you. It’s only a matter of moments until he disappears into the ether. You answer honestly, if only to keep him close a little longer. “I’m writing about you.”

#sleep token #sleep token fanfiction #vessel #writing #fanfiction #sleep token headcannons

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tarirose · 2 years ago

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I’ve missed you // Sebastian Sallow x Slytherin Reader

My requests are open for any stories! I want to get more into writing. So I’ll take anything for Sebastian and Garreth :)

Summary: Sebastian had developed feelings for you, but was afraid to tell you. He pushed you away to avoid it, but staring to see you close with Garreth. He missed you, and he wanted you.

Warnings: Smut. So characters are aged up. If it makes you uncomfortable, please don’t read.

Please be kind 🥹 this is my first time writing and I’m not very good with words and the use of vocabulary but I sometimes have some stories that I want someone to make so I tried my best. So I’m very nervous it’s not very good so I apologise in advance. Also sorry it’s so long! I have edited to proof read and changed it to Y/N. And removed my personal preferences. Sorry for the confusion, I’m not very good at this and what to do :’)

You were a young Slytherin. Notorious around the school, as one of the best and skilled students. You had long gorgeous hair, and eyes that shone as bright as the biggest star. Easily the most stunning girl in school, one that everyone would find fascinating. You’d get guys following you, always asking you out. But you always rejected them. Among those, was Sebastian Sallow. Though, he was afraid to admit it, he had grown fond of you. Developing these feelings of love and admiration. You were the only one who stood by him through all of his problems. There when he was deep into the dark arts. Not being able to control himself, or his feelings. He wasn’t sure why you stayed, and you sometimes wondered that yourself. But you stayed. Everyone else had abandoned him. He felt alone. And you were the only good thing in his life. But he was scared of you rejecting him. Didn’t want to lose his only friend, or ruin anything you had.

Nearly two years had passed since everything had happened. Whilst you had lots of other friends, as you were quite popular, you spent most of your time with Sebastian and Ominis. You had all grown so close to each other. Two years Sebastian had bottled up these feelings. From the moment you beat him in your duel, he knew he was going to fall hard for you. Little did he know, you also harboured these same feelings. The two of you were both unaware of how you both felt. But over the past few months, you had started to drift apart. Sebastian spent most of his time in the undercroft, even went as far as always sleeping in there. You began to spend more time with Garreth. He was always dragging you along, either to go and make some new, wild, mysterious potion he wanted to try, even though they always ended up in explosions. Or he’ll find an excuse for you to accompany him on an adventure, to find some ingredients. You started to enjoy his company. You could feel Sebastian’s eyes burning into you and Garreth. You don’t know what happened between you and Sebastian, and whenever you asked him, he would always just shrug you off and avoid you. It made you angry.

Students around the school started to whisper, and rumours going around that you and Garreth were a thing. This made Sebastian feel rage, whenever he saw you two together, he would quickly turn the other way. He hated going to the same classes you both were in. He couldn’t bare to see the sight of you, with another man. Seeing you smile, laugh, hug him. It tore his heart apart. He wanted nothing more than for you to be happy, but he wanted it for himself. He wanted to be one who did that, he wanted to be the one who made you smile, had you laughing at his jokes, rolling your eyes at his witty remarks. He missed sneaking around the castle at midnight, getting caught and having detention together. He missed you.

Whilst the rumours going around weren’t true, yes Garreth had a crush on you, and you thought you were starting to feel something back. But maybe that was because you were trying to forget about these feelings for Sebastian. But you weren’t a couple. You were always together, close to each other, hands brushing but never anything more. The gazes you both gave each other, he would walk you to all your classes, walk you back to your dorm.

Sebastian couldn’t bare it anymore.

A party began and students from different houses all started to approach. You were celebrating Slytherin winning against Ravenclaw in Quidditch, naturally, people came just came to drink and have fun.

You found your way over to Garreth, rejecting any guy who tried to talk to you, or ask you to dance. You handed him a drink and put your free arm around his neck, his hand making it’s way to your waist. The two of you swaying to the music, laughing and smiling at each other.

It caught Sebastian’s attention, who was sulking in the corner of the room by himself. He never took his eyes off you, watching your every move, watching that beautiful smile that he loves so much. Watching as Garreth’s hand moves even lower, eventually resting on your bum. His fists curled into balls, tears welling up in his eyes. He had to get out of there.

The man was broken at the sight.

She looked so happy, so content. Yet he was here, alone, angry, sadness brewing over him. Jealous.

A few months past.

It was a cold, crisp winters evening. The snow had fallen over the past few days, covering the landscape in a thick layer of fresh flakes. Most of the students had gone home to their families for Christmas break, but the few that lingered could be found beside the warm fire that burned inside The Three Broomsticks.

Among those, there was the man himself, Sebastian Sallow, who sat alone, curled up on an armchair, nursing a pint of warm butterbeer. His eyes adverted to the front door when it swung open, the shadow of a girl emitting into the room. He watched as you walked in, wiping the snow from your robes, and making your way over to a bar stool.

“Hello Sirona, one butterbeer and an apple pie please.” You said, whilst unwrapping your scarf, feeling the warmth from the fire finding it’s way to your neck.

“Hello darling,” Sirona greeted you with a smile, “your friend already ordered for you.”

“My friend?” You replied, one eyebrow raised, wondering who it was she meant.

Sirona pointed to the back corner of the room, and there he was. Sipping on his butterbeer as he shyly waved at you to come over.

You grabbed your drink and pie, confused, and made your way over to him. The light from the fire beaming on his freckly face. Two years had passed, and he was still as gorgeous.

“Well… hello Sebastian.”

“Hi Y/N” he replied, getting to his feet and pulling you into a tight embrace.

You felt a wave of flush and anger rush over you. Taken back by the sudden approach, but also angry that he had the nerve to suddenly talk to you. His own cheeks starting to tinge red. He pulled back and offered you to sit down.

You haven’t heard from him in months, he stopped talking to you. Why was he in here, apparently waiting for you.

“I thought you’d come here, so I already ordered for you.” Sebastian said, his lips curled into a smile.

He knew you well, better than anyone, all your favourite things. All your favourite spots. All your secrets. Everything.

“You know me well’ you tried to smile back, hiding behind your butterbeer.

He watched you with sad loving eyes. There was something on his mind and you could tell. You knew there was a reason he was here. Your heart was racing as he scooted his chair closer to you. Leaning forward and grabbing your hand. He made you blush, and he loved it. Sebastian had always had a crush on you. And over time, he realised he was in love with you. But when he saw how close you and Garreth had become, he always felt jealous, and sickness whenever he saw you together. He knew he shouldn’t, you weren’t even his. He also knew that you were always so confident, the type who’s not afraid to say or do what you want. But around Sebastian, you felt like a lovesick teenager.

You decided to speak up as the silence was deafening. You started to blush by the feel of his hand on yours, as he started to lace his fingers into yours. It felt right. Your hand fits perfect in his.

“What’s on your mind, Sebastian?“ you spoke up, with a tone as if you were bored.

“You’ he quirkily smiled at you.

You shy’d away. Why was he making you feel like this? He noticed you looking away, grabbing your chin, forcing you to look at him.

He couldn’t help but find you so cute, seeing you embarrassed. He knew you were a bold, daring, get your own way kinda girl. He had never seen you shy away. You had the attention of nearly every guy at school. You were beautiful, confident, intelligent, strong, never strayed from a challenge, yet here you were, melting away from his hand in yours. He felt a sense of pride.

“Sebastian, I-“

He cut you off, a look of heartbreak and pure sadness forming in his eyes.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I’m-“ he said, his voice was low and quivered.

“You’re sorry?!” You interrupted him, snatching your hand away from his grip, feeling the tension of anger come back, which left his brows furrowed and head hung low.

“You’ve ignored me for months, avoided me, and now you’re in here, buying me drinks and acting like we’re fine?!”

You stood up, readying your scarf and robe. But he quickly grabbed your hand. “Please, stay.” He pleaded with you, with those sad brown eyes glaring straight at you.

At this point, most of the other students had left and headed back to hogwarts. You both sat back down, Sirona bringing you both another round of butterbeer on the house.

“Well…..? Are you going to tell me what I did wrong?’ You asked, not being able to look at him.

He sat twiddling his fingers, he was nervous. Almost afraid you would remain angry at him. The boy was a mess. And in a way, it hurt you deep down to see him like this. He was always so cocky, charismatic, determined.

He gained the confidence to speak up, “You did nothing wrong. Please don’t think you did. It was me.”

Your silence made him feel small, like you were no longer interested. But he also took it as his time to carry on and explain, and that you were listening.

“I pushed you away and I’m sorry. My own feelings were consuming me, I thought if I avoided you they would go away.”

You finally spoke up, which made him meet your eyes “What do you mean? What has avoiding me have to do with it?’

He was hesitant to tell you, he had bottled it up for two years. He knew you liked Garreth, and it was most likely foolish of him to tell you how he feels. How he’s always felt. He was silent for a moment.

“I avoided you because I thought my feelings for you would disappear..”

Your eyes went wide. Mouth slightly opened. He did feel the same way back.

“Ugh, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, it was stupid. I know you like Garr-“

You cut him off, by leaning over and pulling his face to yours. Your lips landed on his. He kissed you back, with so much desperation. He needed this. He wanted this. For a long time.

You pulled back, moving his hair that fell onto his face. “Sebastian, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want to lose you. I already lost everyone else around me, I couldn’t lose you. You’ve been by my side since you came. I was afraid I would ruin the friendship we had, by telling you how I feel” he sounded like a man who had lost all hope.

Your heart broke for him. You got up from your chair and made your way to his armchair. Sitting comfortably on his lap, cupping his cheek in your hand. His face was warm, now it was his time to blush.

“How long?” You whispered to him.

“Since our first duel. It’s the reason why I got to know you. I was so intrigued by you, why do you think I tried to do everything with you? Even if it was just walking with you to class? I jumped at every chance I could get to spend time with you. But I was idiotic, I hurt you. I cared more about finding a cure for Anne, that I forgot about the people around me. Even though you stuck by me, I hurt you. I hurt the one person left who cared for me, the one I love. The one I’ve always loved. I couldn’t forgive myself.”

He sounded defeated, but you wanted to reassure him that it was fine. That you felt the same way back.

“Sebastian, that’s the past. I’ve always been by your side, I always will.

“But Garreth, I know you’re happy with him, you’re alw-“

You cut him off quickly, “Garreth is a friend, nothing more”

You try to reassure him, but he still looks unconvinced.

“I’ve seen the two of you together, you’re never apart. That used to be us. I’ve seen how you laugh around him, how his hands seem to linger nears yours.” His voice was shaky, as he remembered the sight of you two at the party, “or how low his hands wandered on you, I- I-“ at this point, you could see tears starting to swell in his eyes.

“Garreth is a big flirt, you don’t need to worry. I have only ever cared about you. Your absence made me feel lonely. But my feelings for you never vanished.”

“Did you two…? You know?” He asked, sheepishly

“Did we what?”

“Kiss? Anything more?” He replied, worried about your reply. He didn’t want to hear something he knew wouldn’t sit right with him.

You lifted his face to meet yours, “No, never. I only ever wanted you. I only ever wanted that with you. Everything with you..”

He looked shocked, but a small grin started to plaster on his face.

There it was. That cheeky face you fell for.

“Everything with me?” He gave you a wink, pulling you closer to him, “Describe everything”

You knew he was teasing you. You glided your hands around his neck, whispering into his ear, your breath sending shivers down him.

“Well, you, me, alone, unclothed, bodies pressed together, hot and sweaty. Do I need to go on?”

Sweat was forming on his brow, he had found someone who was just as confident as him, and he didn’t know how to react.

You did something to him. You were special. You could make him feel things he had never experienced before. He wanted it all. He wanted you. All of it. Every part of you. He had waiting a long time for this moment. And he wasn’t going to ruin it.

He lifted you up with ease, he had gotten stronger. His eyes never leaving yours. “Shall we go somewhere more private, darling?”

He sounded full of lust. Like a man in desperate need for your touch.

You both arrived in the undercroft. You knew you wouldn’t be disturbed, because Ominis would never set foot in there since his fallout with Sebastian.

Sebastian wasted no time. He grabbed you by the waist, and pushed you back towards a stone pillar. Your back slamming into that cold surface. His lips soon came crashing into yours. It was sloppy, and full of a long lust for one another. You deepened the kiss, pulling at his brown locks, making him leave a slight moan in your mouth. Your lips moved hungrily against his. He tightened his grip around your waist, suffocating your body against his.

“I want you Sebastian, I want more.” You whispered breathlessly into his mouth.

“Tell me what you want darling” he says against your lips.

“You. Make me cum” you said, hinting by pulling at his pants. “Touch me, do something, show me how much you want me. Show me how much you’ve always wanted me”

Sebastian hoisted your hips up, and you threw your legs around him as he carried you over to the bed he had conjured and had been sleeping on. He threw you down gently, not wanting to hurt you. Showering you with clumsy, wet, aggressive kisses all over your neck. Leaving little bite marks to mark you as his. Placing his hands around your neck, forcing you to once again look at him. He was tired of waiting for you.

You hopelessly clung onto him, grinding your hips against him, feeling how hard he was under his pants. You hungrily pressed your lips against his, feeling him smirk against your mouth.

“I think I’ve woken something up.” You teased in his ear, leaving your own bite marks on him.

You were as needy for him as he was for you. You pushed him backwards, climbing up over him. You quickly removed your robe, tossing it to the ground. Letting your hair down. Sebastian was in awe. You were beautiful. He carelessly ripped open your blouse, exposing your breasts. He was speechless. He couldn’t take his hands off you. He pulled you closer to him, sending more kisses along your neck, going further down until he reaches your breasts. He sucks and nips at each of them, before throwing you under him, so he was now towering over you. Leaving a trail of kisses down your stomach, until he reached your skirt. His hands finding there way up your skirt, brushing his fingers over your thighs, until he reached your panties. He tore them off with ease, and pulled off your skirt. Looking you up and down, he was amazed at how stunning you were. Every part of you.

He pressed his thumb against your opening, rubbing circles and starting by slowly sliding a finger inside. Taking his time to push in and out. Slowly building you up. He pushed a second finger in, whilst still rubbing his thumb in circular motions. You were soaking wet. You bit down on your lip, letting out slight moans. Your whole body started to tense up with pleasure. He loved seeing you a stumbling mess under him. He removed his fingers and lowered himself down, moving his head between your thighs. Throwing your legs over his shoulders, and instantly burying his face into you. Using his tongue to lap around you, flicking and sucking. Listening to the sweet moans escaping from your mouth. Your hands tightening around his hair, pushing his face more into you. He was driving you wild. He continued to lick back and fourth, then going back to circles and flicking his tongue around you.

“Don’t stop Seb.” You weakly moan out, lips parted and eyes rolling backwards. Sebastian was falling apart between your thighs. From the sound of your moans, to calling out his name. He wanted more. He made his way up, quickly removing his belt and throwing off his own clothes, leaving only his boxers on. You were lying under him, gazing up at him with so much love, admiring how he looked under his robes. You began tugging at his boxers, signalling to take them off. His own eyes watching your body, assuring that you were okay.

He leaned closer to your ear and whispers “Tell me you’re ready for me darling”

“I’m ready Seb,” you pulled his face to yours, biting down hard on his lip.

He lined himself up between your legs, one hand holding your hip, the other to guide himself as he pushed himself into you, you arched your back as he pushed in deeper.

He started moving slowly, wanting to savour the moment. You pulled his body closer to you as he rested his head in the crook of your neck. He began to thrust harder, finding the right tempo. You moaned right into his ear, Sebastian letting out his own shaky breaths. Your hands clawing at his back, that you sure he’d be scarred up in the morning.

“Faster Seb, I want all of you” you practically begged into his ear, and he obeyed your every wish. As he started to pick up the pace even more, his thrusts were getting deeper, and you could feel your body tightening around him. You let out a final call of his name, followed by a loud moan as your entire body started to shake from the sensation you felt from your own release. Sebastian also finding his own release, he moans right into your ear. Resting on you for a minute, he pulled out, collapsing by your side. Both of you hot and sweaty, unable to catch your breath.

He turned to look at you, pulled you closer to him so your bodies were touching once again. Rubbing smooth slow circles on your back, he tenderly looked at you, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead. “I’ve missed you. I promise to never leave you again. I love you so much darling, always have, always will.”

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x slytherin!reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow imagine #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy imagine #l

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goodluckclove · 1 month ago

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clove my kind comrade. i have a very emotional writing advice question for you. this turned kinda long, i apologize

i've been working on college applications these last few months, with the majority of that time taking the form of essay writing. and in these months it has been discovered that, at least to my dad's standards, my normal nonfiction prose writing skills are absolutely abysmal. i would write a draft, think i had everything pretty much shiny and complete, only to have everything i had worked so hard to finish absolutely picked to shreds by my dad and told i needed to start over. and there's nuance to this; i do quite literally forget a lot of writing tips and processes that worked for me, and it took last week's adhd diagnosis 17 years too late for me to stop hating myself for not being able to write a 300 word essay in a week. but this has left deep scars on my psyche and sent me for the most intense mental heath loop ive had in years.

that all contributed to a very intense anxiety ive developed about writing. i'll open a wip (or hell start writing an ask) and i will feel such a sense of dread. it's like i'm reaching into an oven that i know i've burned myself on so many times before. i can barely write a sentence before i start overthinking things too much and give up. this is specifically talking about my own personal writing. five minutes ago i opened my most self-indulgent wip that only four people on earth would ever be allowed to see and felt such an overwhelming fear of "what if it's bad". "what if it doesn't read this way to people". i've never had that before. i write what i write, and it's generally pretty damn good. but the anxiety i have about these stupid college essays has bled into MY work, MY own fun projects.

essentially, what i'm asking you is if you can offer any advice of how to conquer this anxiety. i know that an essay and a gay little fanfiction are fundamentally different things that cannot be equated with each other, and i know that other people's opinion on what is ultimately a self indulgent project can be easily and happily disregarded. but i can't have a self indulgent project if i can't even bring myself to physically write it.

this turned into a vent lmao. i hope you and Wife and the cats are doing splendidly.

Hi Bas! This ask made me deeply angry when I read it last night! Shame from artists, especially young artists just starting out in life and in their craft, apparently provokes a pretty deep rage in my soul.

I'm fine now. I'm at a coffee shop. Thank you for a pretty vulnerable and heartfelt insight into your brain-space, and I'm going to give it a pretty long and ramble-y response because that's what it deserves - and honestly, you've known me for long enough that I'm sure you kind of assume this is what's coming. Before that, though, I get the sense you're pretty anxious and drained. In the name of meeting your sincerity I would like to offer a look at the drawing my surrogate child demanded I draw for them after they saw the terrible Sonic the Hedgehog I drew from memory last night. Their prompt was "T4T Sonic/Shadow"

What do you think? I gave Shadow a wallet chain. I've never drawn fan art before but I do think going forward I'm going to give most, if not every famous IP I draw a wallet chain. This made me grin a lot because it's so fucking weird. Also it's not canon. Canonically Shadow would not smoke a blunt. Canonically Shadow the Hedgehog vapes.

Okay I made myself properly silly time for business. Come follow me into a hypothetical situation so I can talk to you (and anyone in your position - which is a lot of people your age) more intimately.

Okay, so I'm at a new coffee shop. It's open concept, fairly minimal an industrial in decor. I'm in this seated nook in the back at a bench by a large round table. The lighting is soft. There's a lot of plants and the baristas are like kind of anti-social which usually means the coffee is going to be great or pretty bad. Luckily it's the former - I got this iced maple cardamom latte. They have other drinks too. Tea. Your usual coffee varieties. They have a rosemary syrup you can put in lattes that I might try if I feel like I want another coffee later. Take my card and order something. I'll wait here.

You're back? What'd you get?

Mm. Fuck. I should've gotten that too. Nevermind, it's fine. I'll probably come back here again.

Okay, so college essays. I'm going to go ahead and just open by saying that college essays are absolutely not the same as nonfiction prose. Flat out, end of sentence. They're aren't apples and oranges - it's like comparing an apple and a used 2007 Honda Accord.

Good nonfiction means different things to different people. I personally enjoy a bit of humor and love for a subject, even if it's mundane to most of society. My wife prefers a Wikipedia-level of dry Academia. Different strokes.

College admission essays, however, are not good. They're really not. From a vague amount of research it seems this has been an issue for decades now.

You can still write like a bad college essay, don't get me wrong. Something riddled with typos or dribbled out by a generative AI. But if you look a little bit at what the people who actually check applications are, it seems the spectrum isn't "bad to great" as much as it is "bad to fine". My own college essay was some bullshit about how I learned about myself and the world around me by going to the grocery store before school and buying a baguette to have for lunch. It was stupendously mediocre. I got into college.

There's a lot of reasons for this. It could be because the average 17-18 year old isn't given the tools or opportunity to write really solid nonfiction - probably because the society we live in doesn't expect them to have anything to contribute in that way, but that's beside the point. You're taught essays. Ways to format papers that, from what I gather, only really apply in academic settings. When I was in high school the average essay had pretty stark parameters students were expected to follow, and from what I've heard those parameters have only gotten more specific.

With all that in mind, I understand why you're freaked out. If you look up tips on solid college essays the advice is like just comically vague. Be authentic! Focus on deeper themes! Pose a philosophical question! That last one actually made me laugh out loud when I read it, because it's so insanely discordant compared to how I've seen people you're age be treated. To go straight from people assuming you need your hand held on nearly anything to having a person say "Hey solve nihilism in 450 words " is baffling.

There's real advice in this odd, clickbait-y quips. You shouldn't feel like you have to play a character or pretend to be something you don't want to do, because that comes across in the text pretty easily. You should consider exploring a topic, because it reveals more about you as a person and that's valuable to the application as a whole. You - I'm going to go out and say you don't need to pose any sort of philosophical quandary at all, actually. That's a pretty wild thing to ask a huge portion of New Adults to be able to do.

So this isn't nonfiction. This isn't a think piece or a memoir, even though people might compare it to both. This is closer to a cover letter. You should still try, but do so knowing this is separate from your skills as a writer. Once you do that, you'll hopefully be able to relax enough to actually let your character slip into the work. What you mainly want to do is express a sense of your voice and sort of imply an idea of the type of presence you would be as a student at your school of choice. That's the point of the application as a whole. It's not going to win a Pulitzer. It would be truly, very weird if an admissions essay won a Pulitzer.

The other thing that I think might be making you and people in your shoes feel crazy is that you're in the period of your life when a lot of adults around you are going to say just the wackest nonsense. Oh this application determines the rest of your life! The stakes have never been higher! This is your future! You're setting the entire course of the rest of your life right now, somehow!

That obviously is also not true. Next year will be a decade since I graduate high school, and I still actually have no idea why some people had that level of intensity. It strikes me as incredibly counter-productive. I explained this to my kid, and they were shocked when I told them how many paths there are to get a higher education. You can get your first few years at a community college and then go to a university. You can go to a polytech school (They make them for the arts too! my brother went to Cogswell and it was such a cool campus) and get straight into industry experience. You might get into a university and transfer to a different one because it has a better program or opportunity.

All of these are cool. Not going to college is also cool, although it comes with other pitfalls. You can also go to college later on down the line. If you haven't figured it out yet, existing in the world is actually really flexible and open in terms of life choices. A college application, essay included, is not likely to play a huge part in the grand scheme of your life. The results of this will give you a sort of better understanding of your options for a plan for the next - like - year, maybe? It won't even determine it. It's more of a cool, maybe or a cool, I guess not right now situation.

It's also way harder for most people to work with a smaller word count. Less words mean less margin for error. That's stressful. You aren't a failure for struggling to write 300 words in a week when you can't choose the parameters of the writing, can't change the deadline, and probably have a bunch of people saying how crazy important all this is. Those are batshit work conditions for someone who doesn't have ADHD.

For someone who does, I can see how easily this would warp the perspective you have on everything else you do. Being picked apart by someone who hasn't been where you are in like 20+ years but still expects you to take their words as gospel? Confusing! Maybe feeling the inexplicable need to compare yourself to any published nonfiction you've read and loved, even though this isn't even nonfiction - and if it was, those writers have definitely been working in the genre longer than just goddamned now.

I think I've told a few people your age that this is the point where you kind of have to pick and choose how often you listen to the adults in your life. That feels irresponsible for me to say, but I do stand by it. When it comes to the transition between high school and college, most established adults are just crazy biased. Maybe because they raised you. Maybe because they're blinded by nostalgia and think that high school was the best part of their lives. Maybe they aren't familiar with the work you want to go into and what's needed to get a start in it. Or they could just straight up not understand how the college system works now.

It is such bullshit that you eventually have to craft a sense of internal intuition out of essentially nothing but it is a thing. It takes time, though. I won't pretend like you can make it happen immediately right now.

What matters is that you're okay. I promise you that - you're okay. Looking you straight in the eye, Bas, you're a good writer. Not "good for your age", I have read enough of your actual writing to know that you're pretty solid already. I've also read enough of your posts and had conversations with you to know for certain that if you wanted to pursue nonfiction you'd be pretty good at it right off the bat. This would be under the usual standards of a nonfiction writer, of course - meaning you get to pick the length, subject, and when you finish it.

You are in the unfortunate period of going through multiple transitions at once. It's hard enough to navigate the way relationships change when people decide (or struggle to process) how you're an "adult" now (also not really true in a lot of ways, but that's another ramble). But going so long under the assumption of having a Default Brain Experience and then realizing that all of the struggles you assumed were normal are actually an imbalance of chemicals is jarring.

It's treatable, yes. Once you get on a medication that helps with the dopamine everything is immeasurably easier, holy shit. But even then it's still painful at times because the difference is so palpable you sometimes stop and think why did it take so long for me to be able to have this? Why did no one see I was struggling? That was my experience, at least.

This is a crucial point in life where you have to be extra kind to yourself however you can. Once you get on stimulants, if you go that way, drink a lot of water and remember to eat (Some of them can make appetite wonky and I think they all dehydrate you). Be careful with caffeine because they do make you more sensitive to that. Maybe like just stop thinking about whether or not your writing is bad or doesn't work in certain ways because I am a Professional Writer and those kinds of thoughts have literally never been helpful to me. When they pop up in my brain I literally say "no" and force myself to think about something else.

Whether your writing is "good" is not an actual question. Is it coherent and does it contain a noticeable and unique voice? Yes. Is it what you want? I can't answer that, but if you say no the way to fix that is usually read more/write more/think more/share with other more.

Also does it read the way it should to other people? Stop it. Don't worry about that yet. You have to finish the damn thing or else it won't read any way to anyone. So much of writing is Second Draft You's problem.

Anyways that's all I have to say. My heart goes out to you for being pulled in so many directions. From my own experience it gets slightly easier once you submit the apps, but people do continue saying dumb nonsense until like midway into your first year in college. And if you end up leaving college for some reason or another people will keep occasionally saying dumb nonsense. But usually by then you're more equipped to ignore them.

You're going to be okay. You are an intelligent, insightful, artistically capable and deeply kind individual. Whether you share your thoughts and make your stories, true or not, through text or art or a mix of both, you have so much to offer. Just remember that.

Also I'm hungry. I've been writing this for a while and I didn't get any work done on the painting for my wife, but it's almost noon and I didn't have breakfast. There's an American Chinese place near here and they have pretty cheap lunch specials. Come on, get your stuff and let's take a break.

Mongolian beef yum yum.

#writeblr #aspiring writers #writing advice #this is a big one #i've been wanting to say it for a while

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