#back with refusing to draw backgrounds and use interesting lighting | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thevampiremarie · 2 years ago

Text

Heartless, Chapter 5

🔞 Simon “Ghost” Riley x reader 🔞

Fake marriage/marriage of convenience, SMUT

You get into trouble and Ghost disciplines you for it.

CHECK TRIGGER WARNINGS/TAGS UNDER READ MORE

TRIGGER WARNINGS: in the first part of this chapter, homophobic slurs (fag, faggot) and insults are tossed around. From an inconsequential side character towards Soap. I want to note that I myself am queer/nonbinary, and I have been harassed/attacked/bullied for being queer. Additionally, this scene is directly inspired by real events. A friend of mine, who is queer + nb AND is a veteran, got into a fight during their service with another Marine on their base for saying vile homophobic shit. My friend dropped the guy in an instant. My friend knows I am interpreting their story in this chapter, and they approve.

SMUT TAGS: degradation (a lot of it), humiliation, spanking, bondage, dumbification, edging, spit kink, dacryphilia, bratting/brat taming, choking, face slapping, praise kink, overstimulation, squirting, care taking (tbc next chapter!). Knife kink. All consensual. By degradation, I mean degradation in the context of the smut.

Everything goes wrong like this:

You’re out with Ghost and Johnny to explore the base.

They show you the fields where people like to play soccer. “It’s football,” your friend insists in his thick Scottish brogue. Ghost agrees with a grunt like the traitor he is.

Your heavy, exasperated sigh draws out chuckles from them both. “I’ll stop calling it soccer on the day you beat us at football.” And you don’t even like football. But fuck the British if they think they can get one over you. Well, the British and Scottish. Whatever.

The two of them start chattering- correction, Johnny chatters, and Ghost genuinely listens, you can tell, about sports and teams, and you regret bringing up the topic at all because you can barely follow.

What’s the difference between Manchester City and Manchester United? Isn’t that, like, the same thing?

As your husband discusses a recent game, a few guys kick around a ball, and some people smoke a few feet outside the designated smoking area. You watch a guy stub out his cigarette on the sign that says not to smoke elsewhere.

You’ve gotten too comfortable referring to Ghost as ‘your husband.’ Hm. You should check that impulse before it spirals into something that might validate Alejandro and Gaz’s conspiracy theories about love at first sight. Gross.

Do you know what else isn’t helping? Ghost’s refusal to let you be alone with them again. He doesn’t try to stop you or interfere, but you can’t ignore him lurking in the background like a little stalker whenever you socialize.

It’s… kind of cute.

Oh, and you finally encountered Roach in the wild. You spotted him in the mess a couple of days back, collecting the randomest assortment of snacks (Cool Ranch Doritos, a pre-workout drink for balance, you guess, a chocolate milk, and three lemon sugar cookie flavored energy bars).

He had on some interesting cat ear headphones, so you just waved and wordlessly gestured that you liked his headgear. He waved back, then shot you a thumbs up.

You tap back into your surroundings. Ghost has wandered into the smoking area to light up, and you might as well join him.

When you stretch out your hand, he plucks a smoke from his pack and places it delicately in your palm. He even lights it for you from a Zippo engraved with skulls, with one scarred hand cupped around the flame to keep it steady.

Johnny wrinkles his nose. “That’s gonna kill you in five years, you ken?” He stands on the other side of the painted smoking area line to hang while letting his disapproval be known.

You take a drag instead of laughing in his face. After all, he was the one who charmed every convenience store clerk at the young age of 17 into buying what he wanted without getting carded, smokes included.

“Since when have you been so health conscious?” You say as you blow the smoke away from Soap’s face.

Ghost does the same without thinking - like he’s stood somewhere and smoked while chatting with Soap enough times to make it a routine.

You envy the easy way they complement each other. You used to be like that with Johnny, and you wish… you want your own routines with your new husband, to know that he goes out into the world and does something different for the rest of his life because of you.

Distance is only natural, you tell yourself. You’re new to their friendship.

But Soap has been one of yours for so long, and Ghost is becoming yours faster than you thought possible. Like a rapacious strangler vine or fungal colony occupying a rotted tree, you find that you’re plotting all the ways you can twist yourself around and into Ghost.

Soap laughs. “Aye, well. You try getting shot a couple o’ times. Am not goin’ down over one of them cancer sticks.”

You hear it just as you tap some of the ash off the end of your cigarette.

“...can’t believe they let those fuckin’ fags…”

You bring the smoke to your mouth to conceal your grimace before turning ever-so-slowly. You’ve learned this lesson many times over; gathering further context is important— no need to bring a knife to a situation that does not call for knives.

The same guy you heard before continues with his little rant.

He’s a miserable-looking dude with a pasty milk face, no defined chin, a bad haircut, and a shitty name tag on his shitty uniform that says ‘Pvt. Langford.’

But somehow, despite lacking any discernible charisma, he holds rapt court with a bunch of other similarly-miserable peeons. “They’re a bunch of pussies, like, it’s pathetic, bro. Gonna give me fuckin’ AIDS or some shit if I gotta be in the same room. Criminal.” By now, he’s seen you watching him.

The corner of his thin-lipped mouth lifts as if he’s said something funny.

Eh. He’s maybe got half of a foot on you. At most. There are worse odds.

Then he slides his smarmy, revolting gaze from you to just over your shoulder, and his smirk grows. He’s looking at Soap.

You’ve seen this exact look before. You know what it means, what nerves motherfucking Langford is trying to trample on.

Before anyone can stop you, you’re across the smoking area and in Pvt. Langford’s face in about five seconds.

Soap thinks he’s about as level-headed and reasonable as the average man, but Langford has been getting on his nerves for way too fuckin’ long. For the whole time they’ve been stationed at this base, so, weeks.

Everyone knows Langford is a little shit. Everyone hates him and his bitch boys.

You’re just the first person willing to do something about it.

So while Johnny has never felt the urge to personally handle the Private’s homophobia because swatting flies is beneath him, he’s content to sit back and watch the show.

Naturally, Ghost tries to follow you. You’ve got the poor fellow whipped and wrapped firmly around your little finger.

He supposes he shouldn’t have expected any less.

Soap holds your husband back with an outstretched arm. “Let the lass do her thing,” He advises. You won’t appreciate it, and Soap has no intention of being on the receiving end of your wrath.

Ghost rolls his shoulders back. “Not gonna stop her?”

The Lt. doesn’t know, does he? “D’ya really think ya can?” Even more reason to let you go off. This will be fun and, frankly, a necessary introduction.

Ghost stills. “…” Not so new, then.

What a bloody buzzkill. Now look who’s fussing and clucking? Like a rooster.

Soap watches his teammate flex and crack his knuckles and decides that you owe him for what he’s about to say. “If she needs it, we’ll grab her before it goes too far,” He reassures Ghost before leaning against the ‘Smoking Area’ sign.

It’ll work out one way or another. No big deal.

The scowl on your face as you stare down Langford is somethin’ real ferocious. “What the fuck did you just say?” You demand, voice low and proud and loud enough to catch the attention of everyone in a ten-foot radius.

Langford laughs and tries to play it off. “That’s classified.” Oh, haha. Real fuckin’ original. Like half the girls in town haven’t heard soldiers try that line a million times.

The Army sure didn’t take Private Langford for his brain cells.

Next to him, Riley shifts from foot to foot. “She always like this?” He asks as if the words are throwing themselves against his mask and demanding to be let out.

“Mmm. Since we were wee mates.” From here, Soap can see how viciously you throw your cigarette to the ground and grind out the lit ember with your heel like the poor thing did something to you.

“No. Say it again,” You snap, cracking the sentiment over Langford’s thick head like you’re breaking a chalkboard in two.

Ghost stiffens up even further, and behind the mask, his eyes glint in the sunlight like that flame you just put out.

Is it possible that he’s… impressed by you? “Go on. I just want to make sure that I heard you correctly. That we all heard you correctly,” You say icily.

Global warming would be solved in a day if they could translate your tone into real ice.

Watching Langford take a small step back without realizing it is funny as hell. Even his minions have backed away as your aura of menace sets off their self-preservation instincts with the subtlety of a pulled fire alarm.

Lt. Riley’s eyes narrow as he memorizes your scowl and how you crowd Langford forward without letting up. “Spitfire.” Damn. That’s some bloody high praise coming from him.

Heh.

Riley’s hood can’t hide the shadowy hickies on his throat; one would think that Ghost has realized it by now.

Are those teeth marks he spots? “You sound surprised. Figured she was teachin’ ya that already,” Johnny leers.

Ah, the expression he can make out under the skull mask. He wishes he had a camera so he could show you later.

Ghost closes his eyes for a long moment. “Shut your face.”

Across the way, Langford musters up a little courage. “Aw, are you mad? Did I make you mad ‘cause I spoke the truth, snowflake? Did those faggots get to you already?”

In the aftermath, even the birds stop chirping.

“Fighting words. Surprised you’re not out there with her,” Ghost says.

Only a fool would think the Lieutenant is relaxed right now; Johnny can tell that his breathing has slowed, that he’s holding perfectly still with an unbreaking focus on his prey.

That’s part of how Ghost manages to disappear in broad daylight. When those subtle signs of life go away, it’s easy to overlook him, unsubtle mask and all.

He’d best save it for the field, but that’s none of Johnny’s business.

You two are so well-suited. “That’s the thing. About bein’ her friend. That bird- that bird’s a psycho.” If your marriage outlasts the bets everyone’s placed on an irrevocable breakdown, Soap figures he could make a killing on a matchmaking side hustle.

You take a deep breath. “I didn’t hear the truth. I heard a bunch of yapping from a little boy who a recruiter conned into signing his life away to lick the boots of his COs because he was a complete waste of resources otherwise.”

Yikes.

Occasionally, Johnny regrets quitting. He regrets quitting now, specifically; he could use the calming rush of nicotine. You’ve never ended fights in a good way, but this will end… spectacularly badly. He can see it already.

Ghost lets out a low whistle. “Jesus fucking Christ.” Then the Lieutenant looks around, and Soap realizes he’s checking for their Captain or any other superior officer.

Soap was planning on doing that anyway, and your new husband wins another point of approval in his book for thinking of it on his own.

“Pretty nice though, canny lie. Who else d’ya know that would fuck up a man for you without hesitatin’?” He says as he watches you open your mouth again.

“How does it feel to know you’re just that worthless?” Your voice rises and rises, acrid enough to melt paint, and it keeps Langford frozen in place.

“How long have you known her?” Lt. Riley asks.

“Eh… give or take sum’ ten years, prolly.”

“She like this the whole time?”

You go in for another round. “Thank God you’re not deployed anywhere important. It would be like the Bay of fucking Pigs all over again.” You’re close enough to spit on the Private, right fuckin’ close to his sallow face, and as your lip curls up, Johnny knows you’re definitely considering it.

Anger thrums in the air as bitter as gunpowder; it’s infecting Lt. Riley, churning in his posture, and it’s (unfortunately) starting to break through Langford’s shock.

“Aye. Never seen a law, or a rule, or a fuckin’ polis stop her. It’s nice not to fight alone, an’ if she had her way, I wouldn’t have lifted a finger in school.” He pauses, then looks at Ghost.

Johnny picks his following words with care. “Bet that one could carry the world on her shoulders if we’d let her. You know that she’s taken to you right quick?”

And then…

“Shut the fuck up, you dumb whore. Who even are you? Some slut whose only accomplishment is spreading your legs for a uniform? I’m not afraid to hit a little girl.”

Fucking Langford. Way to ruin a moment between mates, when Soap was just trying to help you.

God knows you need it; Lt. Riley is a piece of work.

The other man puts out his cigarette.

Now Soap has to think about how many soldiers he needs to threaten into silence after Ghost is through and how Soap will hide Langford’s body once he gets the final hit. “Lieutenant-“

They start moving in tandem, trying to get to you as fast as possible, like sharks circling after tasting blood in the water.

“Yeah, well, that’s funny ‘cause ‘little girl’ is what your mom calls me when we fuck,” You jeer before raising your hand.

Johnny loves you a lot, but man, do you make stupid choices sometimes.

Private Langford stumbles to the ground like a little bitch.

Damn. You didn’t backhand him that hard, and you’re not wearing any rings.

You can take a slap way better.

You stand over him as he clutches his face, practically cowering on the ground, and your knuckles are stinging, and all you feel is the adrenaline flash-flooding through your veins like cocaine or a really good fuck.

And then- strong, immovable arms clasp around your waist and yank you away.

Your hair’s in your eyes, and you can’t tell who’s holding you back, but whoever they are… you’re gonna make them regret it.

“Fuck you!” You howl at Langford, kicking and thrashing against the stranger’s grip.

You try to get an elbow in the side of whoever it is, but they evade it with ease. “Let go of me! I’m going to fucking kill you, you inbred motherfucker!” You scream as Langford gets to his feet.

The stranger carries you a few steps back and eliminates your chances of getting your nails in Langford’s face.

You redouble your efforts to free yourself. “Let me go! Let me at him! I’ll rip his fucking head off!”

The person shakes you like a rag doll. “Calm down. Calm the fuck down, lass. It’s me, Johnny. Stop your fucking fighting,” Soap hisses.

Oops. You stop moving all at once, causing Soap to almost drop you.

The adrenaline levels off, leaving you empty, and you drag breath after breath into your lungs to make up for it.

You shove your hair behind your ears just in time to watch Ghost put Langford in a headlock with beautiful, immaculate, careless ease.

It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him take anyone down, and it takes away the breath you just found. Like, your mouth goes dry, and you forget Soap is restraining you.

Just… holy shit. He moves like the hand of God, eyes flashing and skull mask fierce.

Langford blacks out the same second Ghost gets his arm around the other man’s neck, crumpling to the ground like a chewed-up paper doll.

Oh. Oh no.

Now you understand why Soap keeps you in place because Ghost tosses Langford’s unconscious body to the side without blinking twice and then beelines straight. towards. you.

Your hands push and hit Johnny’s arms. You need to- you need to run this time, get away, and get out of Ghost’s path.

Flee. You need to flee before he unpicks you with his teeth and eats your fucking bones like a fairy tale monster.

God fucking damn it, why won’t Soap let you go?

A rush, you can’t breathe, oof, your stomach hurts, have you been swept onto Ghost’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes?

The upside-down sight of his very well-formed ass in his jeans tells you that, yes, you are hanging from his shoulder as he takes you to a secondary location.

All the blood in your body surges to your head. “Ghost. Ghost, let me down,” You tell him, voice jostling with each step he takes.

No reaction.

If you could just breathe, an action obstructed by his stupid shoulder jabbing into your stomach, and clear the fuzz from your mind (thanks hanging upside down!), you’d make him regret this.

“Put me the fuck down. I’m not fucking kidding.” Again, nothing.

If anything, Ghost actually tightens the hold he has on your hips, accurately predicting that you’re seconds away from kicking him.

Fuuuuuck this. “PUT ME DOWN, YOU OAF. I AM YOUR WIFE, YOU CAN’T JUST-“ You try to be as loud as possible, so maybe someone will hear and save you? Or irritating enough to make him set you on the ground?

Ghost keeps walking. “No,” He tells you before digging fingers into the back of your thigh. It’s painful, and you inadvertently shut your mouth, teeth grinding together. For now.

“I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DON’T SET ME DOWN THIS INSTANT-“

Once Ghost unlocks your front door, he shoves it open viciously with his boot and locks it behind you without letting you go.

You fully expect him to unceremoniously drop you on the bed, but he- he doesn’t.

He pulls you into his arms like a husband carries his wife on their wedding night and lays you down gently.

Then he backs away as if burned by your skin, backs all the way to the other side of the room.

Shit. Shit. You’re in trouble. You’re in so much trouble, Ghost leans against the wall and crosses his arms, and you can’t meet his gaze; you can only look at his shoes.

He sighs. “You know what’s gonna happen next. Nod if you know.”

You nod, still looking at the ground, and feel the humiliation and anticipation trying to strangle each other in your stomach.

“If you don’t want it, you need to get the fuck outta my sight. Right now. I can’t look at you,” Ghost tells you.

You’re not sure how to find the right words. Do you want to beg? Resist? Ask him if he’s proud of you? You end up shaking your head in a negative and propping yourself up on elbows planted firmly in the bed.

He doesn’t say or do anything for a few minutes. You know he can see you squirm, how your fingers flex and feet tap the ground.

You pick yourself off the bed and walk towards him like a moth drawn to a flame.

Ghost moves as soon as you cave. He plants his large hands on your shoulders and pushes you back, back, back, until your back slams into the wall with his body boxing you in.

Before your head can hit the wall, he slides his palm around the back of your skull to cushion you.

He braces that same arm on the wall as he speaks. “That was the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen some stupid shit.” You’re not really listening because his flexed bicep is right there, above your head, and he has to tap your cheek to get you to focus.

You look up into Ghost’s mask and his eyes- his eyes burn, greedily eating up your blush and your throat bobbing as you swallow your nerves.

His other hand trails along your neck and then wraps around it. “Thought you were s’posed to be smart. My smart, clever girl,” Ghost croons, all condescending like he’s talking to a misbehaving animal.

Then his voice deepens to a sound that’s just a touch inhuman. “You could’ve gotten hurt. That fuckin’ wanker almost laid a finger on you.”

Your heartbeat pounds fast, screaming in your chest. “I got him first,” You point out.

Ghost’s eyes crinkle at the ends. “That you did. You were brilliant there, love, won’t deny it.” Here’s where your flush brightens, where the praise makes you look away. “I see that went straight to your pretty little head.”

He falls silent when your tongue darts out to wet your lips.

“But oh my fuckin’ god. You can’t go ‘round gettin’ into fights like that.”

“It was for Johnny,” You protest weakly. You don’t regret a single thing, but you find yourself caving at the slightest pressure.

The hand on your throat tightens, not tight enough to do anything other than remind you that you’re his. “I don’t bloody care if it was for Jesus Christ himself. Nothing is more important than you. Than your safety,” Ghost amends.

But you heard him. Nothing is more important than you, he says.

Why does he care?

Ghost sees the fight flare up in your face. “Listen to me. Nothing. Not Soap, not me. You- you are…” He’s supposed to be scaring you right now. He’s meant to be reading you the Riot Act, and the part you play is the frightened doe he teaches a lesson to.

You’re scared for a whole different reason.

Ghost is looking at you, looking through you, and it’s like you’re a little girl again, learning that the only time people give a fuck is when you do something for them.

‘Nothing is more important than you’ plays over and over in your mind.

He lets go of your throat to grab your hand, the one you hit Langford with, and his gaze drops to your reddened, bruised knuckles.

When he talks, his voice sounds odd, like he’s shaking the rust off his vocal cords. “Fuck. I was so-“ Ghost cuts himself off.

His fingers are gentle with your fingers. He turns them over, runs his thumb along your palm. You’re not used to people touching you like that.

You find your words as fast as you can. “What? You were so what?” You challenge him.

You feel him drop your hand in favor of digging his fingers into your jaw. “You’ve talked a lot today, doll. The next thing you say better be a fuckin’ apology.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“That’s how you wanna play this?” Ghost asks, eyes flat and unreadable.

You let him apply more pressure so your mouth lolls open, you let him think he’s got you. “Yep.” Then you poke your tongue out and lick the side of the finger pressed into the corner of your lips.

“Another stupid choice,” He tells you before letting go.

He wears holsters strapped on his back and jeans, and for the first time, you’ll get to meet what he keeps in them. “See, I was gonna be nice. Was gonna… fuckin’, I dunno, say some sappy shit, be real sweet, make sure you were okay…” Ghost says matter-of-factly as he finds a single-edged switchblade that is definitely illegal for civilian carry.

There are rules for that sort of thing. The blade is an inch too long, and that popping mechanism was outlawed in 1958.

You know that he keeps bigger knives on him, ones that look like they violate the Geneva Convention. In comparison, this is small fry.

Ghost deliberately pinches the collar of your shirt between his fingers. “But you’re gonna be a bitch about this, aren’t you? I’m gonna have to get it through your thick fuckin’ skull?” He asks, moving far slower than he’s capable of, slow enough that you can stop him if you want to.

You hear yourself pant desperately, you look at him with wide, vulnerable eyes, then hold perfectly still so that he won’t nick you.

The tip of the sharpened knife pokes a tiny hole in the fabric. “Hope you’re not too attached to these, doll,” Ghost tells you before slicing a clean line down the middle.

It’s cold in your bedroom, you had the air conditioner running earlier, and you blame your instinctual shivers on that instead of the need brewing under your skin (and between your legs).

When he pulls the tattered remnants of your shirt from your shoulders, you let him.

Your bra goes next. A swift rip and then your tits hang free and bare, nipples already beginning to harden.

He makes sure to click the blade back into the handle before reaching out to caress the heavy swell of your breasts, unable to resist stroking your soft skin even when he’s mad.

You picked a good day to wear a skirt that falls just past your ass with a hemline that dances teasingly around your thighs. To be clear, it’s not a good day for your skirt itself.

When the blade comes out again, Ghost cuts your skirt with steady fingers that brush your curved stomach.

Then he slips the knife between your underwear and your skin, carefully aiming the sharpened edge out so you feel the cool metal press into your heated skin without risking an accidental cut.

He doesn’t react to how your panties stick to your cunt when he takes them off you, most likely to deprive you of the satisfaction of any reaction at all.

You see part of his balaclava twitch, and after a moment, you realize he’s raising an eyebrow.

Right. Shoes. You kick them off with far too much eagerness.

He returns the closed knife to its designated holster. It’s very safe of him, very proper.

“I won’t go easily,” You remind Ghost.

He answers by covering your eyes with his hand and kissing you, his mask bunched over his nose and pressing awkwardly into your skin.

Each kiss makes you dizzier, hazier, you forget why you’re fighting, he ravages your mouth with his, and when you moan, it makes him even more feral.

He sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, and you shout at the pain and try to curl away. But the hand over your eyes keeps you in place, and you shudder against him, naked and helpless.

The webbed straps of his chest holster grind into your breasts and leave rough streaks of chafe wherever they touch your skin.

His tongue slips against yours, Ghost tastes like smoke and something uniquely him, it feels like he’s pouring nicotine into your synapses, and your spine relaxes, your muscles soft and compliant.

When you try to bite his lip back, he pulls away without acknowledging your unhappy whine.

“Open your fucking mouth,” Ghost snaps.

You do that and even stick your tongue out for good measure. You might not be able to see him, but he can see the little tease of how good you can be.

You hear him spit before you feel the glob of his saliva land messy and hot on your outstretched tongue. Your legs shift, and you press them together, anything to help with the pressure beginning to build in your core and the arousal trickling down your thigh.

Cloth rustles, and then Ghost removes the hand covering your eyes. His mask is back in place like he never lifted it at all. “Step away. Hands behind your back.”

You turn around on unsteady legs, then put your wrists together behind your back as ordered.

Something unclicks behind you, and then he pulls it off his… pants? His belt - he’s cuffing you with his belt, deftly weaving the nylon strap between your wrists and securing it into place.

As you test the strength and make sure he’s restrained your hands in a way that doesn’t cut off circulation, Ghost gathers your hair and drapes it neatly over one shoulder so it won’t bother you.

He touches your back and neck with an almost unbearable fondness. Fuck.

You feel him kiss your shoulder through the mask, closed-mouthed and chaste. “This isn’t coming off until you’re ready to behave,” He murmurs into your skin before sliding an arm around your waist, pulling the mask down, and biting the place he just kissed.

You struggle and twist in his grasp, but he holds fast, and you slump into him with a pained moan. Is he trying to fucking brand you? It sure feels like it.

When Ghost releases you, he turns you around with a hand on your bound wrists and then walks backward faster than you can keep up.

Then he sits on the bed as proudly as a king on a throne and beckons for you.

Without your arms free to help you balance, you stumble a few times, and Ghost watches you with a pleased glint in his gaze. That may be the point.

By the time you get to him, you’re thoroughly unbalanced. “Come on. Yeah, over my lap.” You kneel without complaint, too busy avoiding eating shit to consider resisting.

He helps you lower your torso with an arm placed below your collarbones and a hand flat on your stomach so you don’t face plant into the sheets.

“Are you going to-“ You feel him guide your hips up, encouraging you to place most of your weight on your face and shoulders.

Conveniently leaving your ass exposed. And- and he can see your dripping folds, see proof that you crave him.

He goes on as casually as if he were describing the weather. “Spank you? Yes, I am. A slag like you can’t see reason, obviously. Got to train it in ya.” You practically jump out of your skin when you feel him drag a finger along the inside of your thigh, tracing the rivulets of slick trickling from your pussy.

You feel like a thing, like putty in his hands that he can bat about and talk to like you’re not even there.

“Don’t act like you don’t fucking get off on this. Be honest. Or are you too stupid to do that?” Ghost asks as if he’s just remembered that you can answer questions.

You clench around nothing and desperately wish he’d take that finger playing with the sensitive skin of your thighs, and do something useful with it. “…I do.”

“There’s my needy girl.” He neatly fists a hand in your hair, somehow mindful that you won’t appreciate losing a few strands without you telling him.

His free hand caresses your ass, then up and down the backs of your thighs. You feel him grab one cheek tightly, grinding down with his fingers so he can see red marks bloom under his touch.

You jerk forward with a cry when he hits you the first time, though the hand in your hair keeps you from going very far. Ghost doesn’t spank you hard, more of a warning tap than anything.

The shock smarts more than the blow did. But you’re determined to show that you can, in fact, take a hit better than Langford, so you dig your knees in and psych yourself up for the next spank.

“Fuck is wrong with you?” His voice cracks like thunder, then he follows it with another spank.

This one hurts. Hot, hot pain radiates from the spot he hit, but your body wrenches with a different sensation as your body processes that pain as… well… pleasure.

When he spanks you again, he takes the time to force your head further down into the blankets. “Hm? Running your dumb fucking mouth, talkin’ all that big shit?” Ghost snaps at you.

Each time he spanks you, you cry out, your eyes roll back, and it hurts, and he keeps hitting the same spots, so even when he isn’t touching you, you’re sore.

Another set of blows, each one harder than the last.

You gotta- you gotta tell him- you push back against his grip, and he lets you lift your head. “God, Ghost, please-“ Your voice is choked-up and pleading, mirroring your thighs trembling with want and your aroused, needy core that he’s fucking ignoring.

He slaps your ass again, this time right where your ass cheek meets your thigh, close but not close enough.

“Please, what? Please, what, doll? Come on. Dumb little doll doesn’t know how to talk?”

Your breaths are ragged, labored, you’re shivering and there’s so much pain that you can’t tell where it stops and where the want begins.

“Harder-“ You cut yourself off with a gasp when he does just that.

That one burns. That one feels like an open flame, like Ghost’s touch is burrowing into your muscles, down down down, like it will leave a lingering mark that you don’t want to fade.

He rubs over your heated skin, massaging away the worst of the soreness. “You’re welcome. Now listen to me,” Ghost speaks in a low, reassuring tone like he’s gentling a startled animal.

He notices the exact moment you get lost in the feeling, when you push back and fucking present yourself in the hopes that he’ll give you more.

Then he cracks his hand against your ass; the sound is louder than your answering shriek. “Listen. You are going to apologize for almost getting hurt. You’re going to mean it. You’re going to swear you’ll never get into a fight again.” Ghost tightens his hold on your hair and twists his wrist to push your face back into the bed, taking back the advantage he granted.

“Or what?” You won’t be able to sit comfortably for a week at least, the ache and the bruises forming have you strung out for the tiniest scrap of pleasure… but you did tell him you wouldn’t go easily.

“Or…” Ghost trails off slowly. Your scalp begins to tingle as his grip grows even tighter.

It’s so painful that you almost miss the two thick fingers he slips into your pussy. Almost.

“Fuck!” You keen, your mouth open as your nails dig into your palms.

He thrusts them into you slowly, lazily, totally unsympathetic to your pleading noises and your muscles quivering around his fingers as he drags them in and out of you.

Your cunt has to stretch to accommodate them, and he grinds into you each time he gets knuckle-deep. And then he holds your head down like you don’t get the privilege of looking at him… Your pussy clenches around him at the thought.

Eventually, Ghost stops moving at all, but you’re gone, you’ve been gone, and when you start fucking yourself on his hand, he lets you.

You can tell he’s rock hard, you can feel his dick through his jeans, but he has far more willpower than you could even imagine, and brushing up against it does nothing. “Oh- oh my god, fuck, that feels…” You pant as you chase the sweetness, chase the tension twisting up your guts that’s so close to boiling over, so close.

Your clit is aching, screaming for pressure, for stimulation, but he doesn’t grant it to you. You can only work your hips against his hand, over and over.

Your eyes close as you speed up, you’re whining, you’re gonna come any second, your cunt can’t stop twitching. “I’m so close, wait what-“

Ghost pulls his fingers out before you tip over the edge.

“Or you’re not coming tonight,” He informs you, and you can hear the stupid fucking grin in his stupid fucking voice.

When you try to protest, to get up and fucking bite him or some shit because that’s not fair, Ghost spanks you with the hand you soaked.

You’re sort of blissed-out, sort of pissed, and a lot horny. “I’m sorry-“ You start in the hopes that Ghost will fold and give you what you fucking want.

His mask rustles as he shakes his head. “I don’t believe you.”

Then he slides you off his lap like you weigh nothing so he can stand.

Ghost keeps you in the same position, head down, ass up, and nudges your thighs open a bit wider.

You can’t see him through any of this. That seems to be something he’s taking full advantage of. You can’t touch him, you have no idea what’s happening next.

The only clue you have that he’s taken his mask off again is when he puts his tongue on your sensitive, aroused clit.

(He really should just take the damn thing off more regularly. This is inconvenient, and it’s not like there’s anything under there that could make him less attractive.)

He laps at your swollen folds with his hands on your hips to steady you, and the thoughts melt straight out of your head and drool from the corner of your mouth.

You struggle against the belt in earnest this time, maybe you can loosen it enough to slip your hands out and get away from Ghost and his planned torment. As much as your body pleads to stay put, as much as you want to push yourself back and let him consume you, let him fuck you stupid with his tongue, you know it will end soon.

And he’s going to be fucking mean about it.

Ghost takes his breathing break as an opportunity to taunt you. “You’re not goin’ anywhere,” He promises, leaving handprint bruises on your thighs.

Your stomach churns as he sucks on your clit, like there’s a knife slicing through you, and it’s the hot, burning pleasure pulsing through your body.

You’re not sure you can hold yourself up any longer, your knees waver like you’re a baby deer, and oh God, you’re going to come again, you can feel the spasms in your cunt grow stronger and stronger.

The beginnings of your orgasm tremble through your muscles, so close that you can taste it, you feel it throbbing with every beat of your heart.

He keeps sucking, his wet mouth relentless and dragging you painfully to the edge of the cliff. “Ghost, please, please let me- Fuck!” You wail as he backs off.

Tears well in your eyes as the tremors fade into nothing.

You get yourself upright before he can stop you. “Why are you being such a dick?” You blurt out, lurching forward on your knees like if you can get to him, you can do… something. You’re not sure what, other than that you want to kill him.

Ghost blinks a couple of times.

In the silence that follows, the deadly, threatening silence, you realize your mistake. “Just- just let me come, I’ll be good. I promise. Just wanna come.” You beg, you sit down and tilt your head up like a dog doing a trick, and you pray he gives you grace.

He gets his hand around your throat faster than a snake striking its prey. This time, Ghost squeezes the sides hard enough to make you see white lights. “I am being a dick,” He agrees congenially. “But that’s not what you need to say, is it?”

“…no,” You mumble.

The next thing you feel after he releases you is his palm meeting your cheek. Hard.

“Have I spoiled you that much? You think you can fuckin’ ignore me?” Ghost sounds so calm, so authoritative.

After the ringing in your ears clears, you’re proud to see that you’re still upright. “No, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.” You stretch your jaw a few times to release the ache from his slap.

He hunches over, puts his hands on his knees, and gets right in your face. “Oh, but you did,” Ghost whispers.

There’s something about the fogginess clinging to your eyelashes and the inside of your ears and the folds of your brain that makes his skull mask seem more than real.

A hovering specter of exposed bone, hollow eye sockets with no end, and a gaping, horrifying maw.

You’re starting to understand why people call him Ghost and mean it.

Your mouth goes dry. “Please, I’m begging you,” You whimper, eyes round with awe and flustered blood rising in your cheeks.

He nods, and you swear there must be hearts in your eyes at his approval. “Mm. I like that. Beg again.”

“Ghost. Husband. I’ll be so good. Anything. I’ll do anything. I can’t take it, I need to come so badly.” You lean forward to touch your forehead to his, making yourself as obedient as possible. For the most part.

“That’s not an apology.” Then he sighs, long and drawn-out and aggravated. “Anything, you say?” Ghost asks.

“Y-yeah.”

“Alright. You can come…. When you promise not to fight. And you’re gonna wait until you do,” He tells you as he slips his hand between your slick thighs.

“No…” You moan. He’s doing it again, torturing you again, you just want to give up, you feel him play with your throbbing clit, and it hurts so good.

Ghost clamps a hand on your shoulder, forcing you to roll your hips against his hand. “Sounds like you weren’t listening. Now that makes me think you don’t care.” Shit. Shiiiiit. He pushes a single finger into you, and you collapse into him as you start to ride it, hips jerking unconsciously.

He laughs when he hears you squeal. “You’re just a mindless whore who’d let half the fuckin’ base run through you, aren’t ya?” He’s found your g-spot, he rubs the patch of ridged flesh inside your cunt over and over.

Sweat beads on the back of your neck and drips down your spine, your fucked-out gaze can hardly focus on him, you feel like you’re burning alive in your skin.

“Don’t even need me at this point…” He circles your clit one more time and your mouth hangs open and you want to beg, but you can’t focus-

Tears fall down your cheeks when he wipes his fingers on your heaving breasts.

“No, no, no, Ghost, I need you. I want you. No-nobody else. I do care, please, you’re the only one,” You sob into his chest, pushing your nose into the fabric of his hoodie because it’s soft and smells like him, warm and like home.

“Yeah?”

You feel him rub your back, then slip a few fingers between the belt and your wrists to test your comfort.

You nod without lifting your head. “I- I was- I’m listening, promise, I can’t- you gotta make me come, don’t want anybody else.” You’re so tired, so worn out. There’s a patch of dampness on his jacket from your weeping, and you let out little high-pitched whimpers like a neglected kitten.

He frees your hands in an instant. “If I gotta repeat myself, I’m gonna leave you here,” Ghost tells you, though his voice isn’t as mean as before.

Your arms cling to his neck as you nuzzle your face into the space below his sharp jaw. “Ghost. Don’t go.” The edge of his balaclava muffles your words, but you don’t have the strength to say them to him straight.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being so stupid,” You sniffle before bringing a hand to your nose to wipe a little snot.

Ghost gently knocks your fingers away and replaces them with the edge of his sleeve, delicately cleaning the mucus from your upper lip.

Next, he dries your cheeks with the shadow-black fabric.

You protest when he unhooks your arms from his neck, and your hands scrabble for purchase in the hood of his jacket.

One soft look, his fingers brush your chafed wrists, and you let him lay you down. “Took you long enough,” Ghost quips as he unbuttons his pants and pulls out his dick, mouthwateringly hard and long. He pumps his cock a few times.

You’re in a daze, hovering in that raw space on the other side of crying but wanting him anyways, needing him more than anything.

“Spread your legs, love.”

Ghost leans in like he’s about to kiss you. Then he remembers his mask and changes his mind, having lifted it enough today.

He taps your sensitive clit with the fat head of his cock, and you suppress your shudders, how your legs automatically try to close and get away from the feeling. “I won’t do it again,” You tell him, voice breathless and sweet.

Once he’s coated in enough of your arousal, he keeps one hand flat on your pelvis as he pushes in. “Fuck- fuck, I…” You groan. There’s never any room in your body left for air when he fucks you. Never.

He’s so large that it hurts a little when he’s bottomed out, you can hardly twitch or clamp down like you desperately want because of how fucking full you are.

You can feel every inch of him, you’re on the brink of crying again because all of those denied orgasms are tearing at your insides, and your painfully aroused cunt screams that you can’t take it, that it’s too much, too good, he’s too big.

You have to be good. “Uh, I won’t fight, aah-“ That’s the only thing that gets you to say the words he wants through numb lips, especially when Ghost starts to thrust, and your pussy convulses around him each time.

He moves slowly, really slowly, shallow at first, your tits bouncing in time, and you’re crying out underneath him, so used to all that edging that you subdue your pleasure on instinct.

The slick sounds of his cock sliding in and out are loud and profane, filling the room more than your weak, almost pathetic whines do.

The solid, imposing weight of his body settles you down so you can enjoy his faster, harder pace, and his balls slap against your ass as he fucks you open. “Promise?” Ghost pants, his hands pressing your knees almost to your chest.

He’s looking for something. He moves your legs every few thrusts, opens you up a little more, tilts your pelvis up and-

When his dick catches on your g-spot, your tears cover your cheeks and trickle into your hair in earnest. “Yes, yes, shit, hngh- I promise…” You’re so wet that you can feel it dripping down to the bed and pooling under you, you feel that familiar pressure building, except this time it’s stronger, it’s got a stranglehold on you.

Every time the fly of his pants brushes your engorged clit, your eyes go large and you hiccup, unable to moan properly because it’s like electricity is coursing down your spine.

He kisses the side of your face before nailing that sensitive spot with terrifying, mind-breaking accuracy.

“Come on. You can do it,” Ghost groans, cursing under his breath when you squeeze him so tightly that he almost loses his grip on your thighs.

Oh. Oh. He wants- he’s trying to make you…

“I can’t, I don’t know how, I, I-“ You sob, the pleasure is so intense that you feel nauseous, he’s rutting into your body furiously, and you’re stuck on a horrible knife’s edge of needing to come or you’ll die, but it’s not happening.

He nudges your knee until you wrap one leg around his hips. “It’s alright, love. Let me help you. That’s it, that’s a good girl,” Ghost shushes you before slowing down so he can place his hand on your throat and restrict the blood rushing to your head.

Everything goes sweet and hazy, and you give him a cock-drunk smile in return, eyes rolling back and drool stuck to the corner of your lips.

Once you’re suitably pliant, he slides that hand between you and finds your aching clit. “Just focus on me.” He’s pressing his forehead to yours, you look into his dark, fathomless eyes ringed with pale lashes.

The coil tightens, and you arch into him, gasping and biting down on your lip so hard that you draw blood.

“Ghost, fuck, can I-“ You beg, voice choked and strung out as his fingers move faster on your clit, circling it in tandem with his cock pounding you so deep that it feels like he never ends.

“Go on. Come for me. I know you can.” Ghost pinches your clit, and you come with a wail, thighs shaking, your cunt seizing and it fucking gushes out of you, you soak his jeans, you clamp down so tightly that he slips out.

He replaces his dick with three fingers slotted right on your g-spot, moving in quick, jerky thrusts to see you through it. “Holy fuck. Did you just…” He mutters as your eyes screw shut, and your nails snag his shoulders.

You feel like you’re dying, you can’t stop fucking squirting, the waves grow and grow-

Your hips jerk for the last time, and you’re left a whimpering, quivering mess of oversensitive nerves, the last of the aftershocks still simmering in your muscles.

Ghost kisses your forehead as he carefully withdraws his fingers. “You’re too good to me,” He tells you with something like awe in his rough voice.

You slump to the bed, boneless and empty, not even giving a fuck that the sheets are all messy with sweat and… squirt?

That’s new, you think blearily. That kind of shit only happens in porn? Right?

Your head lolls to the side so you can watch him through lidded eyes.

He moves you out of the wet patch with one arm under your back and the other under your knees, then tucks himself back into his boxers.

“Wait… you didn’t- you didn’t come…” Your voice is fucked up and hoarse, and maybe you should give in to the overwhelming urge to sleep, but…

Did he not want to? You did everything he asked.

He shakes his head. “Nah. Don’t need to. You were perfect, you learned your lesson.” He splays a hand out on your stomach, luxuriating in your squishiness.

Your brow furrows. “Ghost…” Then you rub the sweat and crusted tears from your eyes and set your mouth in a mulish, determined line.

He watches you like a hawk. “Yeah?”

“Please? Fuck me?” You ask as you touch his forearm with a weak hand.

A beat passes. “You’re crying. And you drenched me, the bed too,” He tries to reason with you. You see him swallow harshly, you know he’s shifting where he sits because he’s given himself blue balls.

Your eyes flutter when the exhaustion almost gets you, but you power through it. “It’s okay. I- I’m tough. I want you to come.”

“Yeah. Alright… Tough girl.” Then Ghost reaches for your hips with all kinds of enthusiasm that tells you the truth.

It was sweet of him to try and be gallant. You’d rather he break you open and fill you up.

To be extra nice, you even hold your knees apart so he can push back in.

You’re not going to come again, you’re too fried for that, but it still feels… incredible. You’re glad for all the extra lubrication and that you can make him feel good.

Ghost fucks you with abandon, and deep, animalistic groans echo from his throat. “Shit- I could fuck you forever, you’re squeezin’ me so tight, fuckin-“ He grunts, head tilted back the tiniest bit and composure gone.

Breathe, you tell yourself, breathe. Do it for him.

“God, you’re beautiful.” Your swollen pussy spasms from the praise, constricting him so tight that he cries out. You just can’t help yourself when he says shit like that, especially when he’s making you ache in such an addictive way.

His hips move faster. “You like that? You like it when I tell you how good this fuckin’ pussy feels?” Yeah. Yeah, you do.

“Fuck, fuck fuck-“ You feel him orgasm, he paints your walls with his cum, then grinds those last few thrusts so deep that you cry out.

His pelvis bumps the backs of your thighs like he’s trying fuck his cum in as deep as it will go.

Ghost catches his breath as he softens inside you, panting as raggedly as you are.

He pulls out before dropping his chest harness to the side and unzipping his hoodie so he can clean you up.

You can’t stand the thought of anything touching anywhere near your beat the fuck up pussy right now, so you shove his hands away and drag Ghost down to snuggle.

Of course, he obliges you and helps you rest your head on his shoulder as you curl into his muscular frame like a little bug.

“What happens if the fight comes to me?” You ask.

He’s running a hand up and down your spine, soft touches to bring you back to earth in a gentle, comforting way.

His hand stops until you kick his shin, gently, then he starts up again. “You run,” Ghost says.

“What happens if I can’t run?” You press your cheek into his t-shirt, so close that you can feel the heat of his skin through it. And a little rhythm that must be his heartbeat.

Next, Ghost threads his fingers through your sweaty, messy hair and attentively smooths it away from your face. “You call me. I’ll come get you. Every time.”

Hope y'all liked this one! Next chapter will be super soft/sweet/fluffy with lots of caretaking, I promise.

Tagging:

@abbiesxox @thedevillovesflowers @poohkie90 @averyyreads @lialacleaf @backupgal @kitty-satan1 @androgynoushellscape @555ilovecats @pinkwigonmytv @almightywdm @discowizard88 @castielsangelsx @jaymicrosoft @rengokulover96 @copiasratscheese @fluffysmiko @d3athtr4psworld @idesofarch @teenagegever2k22 @badame0224 @toilet-paper-headbands @itsrosebabe @bangirl134 @silverianni @nezukos-number1fan @deadpoetsandhoney @crowsjourney @vanevafu @xxghostyx @rafaelacallinybbay @akaotv @chibijusstuff @wasteland-babe @anubiseqq @lilpothoscuttings @soapyghost @maliceex59 @valdemarismynonbinarylove

321 notes · View notes

dantent · 3 months ago

Text

Chapter 7 - Shimmered Slime Attacks (Silco x OC)

Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence

"Ugh, I hate working on this!" Jinx rolled over on the floor, leaving the crayons next to her.

Ren turned away from the desk, looking down at the girl. She was previously doodling away on a piece of paper while the mechanic was putting together pieces for Sevika's arm. Jinx was against the idea of doing anything for the woman but after some convincing - or rather promising the girl free sweets -, she let Ren build it in her room. However, she did refuse to help. Mostly she just watched the mechanic work or did something on her own.

"I know Jinx, but I promised I will be done with this." they sighed.

"Last time ya weren't even sure about the design!" she groaned.

"Yes, but your dad informed me that he had heard about a metal light enough to make the arm work." Ren explained. "Still told me to finish the more complex parts before I get that metal, though."

"So which design did ya choose anyway?" the girl sit up, curiously eyeing the mechanic.

Ren handed her the blueprint. "Sevika chose the one with the sword."

She practically tore the paper out of their hand. First she looked over the drawing, then turned to Ren with furrowed brows. "Sevika. Chose the one. With the sword."

"Yeah, I know right?" they laughed.

"I didn't know that ogre could be fun." the girl scoffed.

"Jinx!" Ren warned her. "Be nice!"

She just rolled her eyes in return, before lying down again. Jinx took the crayons in her hand, returning to her drawing. It looked oddly like the mechanic and the girl standing right next to each other. Some other doodles like a monkey and a shark were also above the two. Ren chuckled silently as they looked at the drawing.

"It's not okay for me to call Sevika an ogre but it's okay for ya to call a guy "cocksucker", huh?" she mumbled.

"Okay, first of all," Ren crossed their arms, "don't say that word. Second of all, he called us dirty whores. It was only right of me to call him that and throw a punch. He deserved it."

"Can't argue with that." Jinx shrugged.

"Do you know what happened to him after that, by any chance?" the mechanic turned back to work on the arm. "I mean I can only imagine what Sevika did once the fucke-... the man was kicked out."

Jinx just shrugged, clearly not interested in the fate of the aggressor. At the lack of interest, Ren continued their work in silence. Soon they heard Jinx shuffling with some papers, then starting to scribble frantically. The mechanic payed no mind to the background noises as they have grown used to it by now.

Having spent these last few weeks working at Jinx's workshop, they slowly settled in the reality that this is their life now. Even with the possible danger on their life, it wasn't so bad working for Silco. They had a stable job, someone to keep them company and the Eye barely acknowledged them at all; and even if he did, Silco was surprisingly pleasant to talk with. Overall, Ren seemed content with their life. A little too content perhaps. If their brother were to find out about them, not even this job would save the mechanic.

But it was worthless thinking about this now when everything seemed to be going good for them. So instead, Ren turned their attention back to the matter at hand - Sevika's arm. Ren was already done with most of the smaller pieces that would go into the arm, meaning they soon could turn their attention back to Jinx. For now though, they were working on the part that let the sword slid out from her palm. Making a sword out of this metal would've been useless, so they just hoped that the material Silco found would be light enough for this part.

Soon the mechanic was done with it as well and could focus on their little protégé. She was currently working on her own project. Jinx had told them once that she never used blueprints before; she usually just improvised while building. Ren then taught her how to make an efficient blueprint that she could later use for her projects. This made it easier for her to understand what parts fit together and she could let her imagination run wild while drawing.

"What are you making?" they questioned while sitting down on the floor.

"Hmmm, just some recorder." she shrugged. "I'm thinking of using it as a lure, you know? Like when pops is out and they need a distraction or something... I don't know."

"Mhm, sounds good." they smiled. "Lemme take a look."

She slid the paper over to them. Ren looked it over, paying close attention to the details. The girl was undeniably getting good at drawing her plans. All of it was colorful and rather childish but once you knew what to look for it was easy to find. So Ren rewarded her with some praises before quieting down to watch her work. Overtime she proceeded to build faster and more efficiently. Ren was obviously proud of her for the improvement in such a short time.

"Well, in the meantime I should go report to your dad." Ren began getting up.

"Nah, don't bother." she shrugged. "He's on a meeting."

"Oh." the mechanic sat back down.

"Yeah, some booooring stuff with the other Chem-barons or whatever." Jinx rolled her eyes.

The blood ran cold in Ren's body. "Do the Chem-barons come here often?"

"Nah." she laughed as if the mechanic said the funniest thing ever. "They never come down here. Good, because their ugly faces make me wanna vomit."

Ren chuckled at that. "Where do they go then?"

"I dunno, some fancy building at the top." the girl shrugged. "Pops always told me to stay back and not like I wanna go there."

"Yeah, that's fair." the mechanic agreed. "I rather wouldn't meet the Chem-barons either."

"Ya get it."

That afternoon Ren brought all the necessary parts home. The inside of their apartment was filled with Jinx's unfinished projects, making them almost glow from the green light coming from the window. All the neon colors practically shining in their apartment made Ren squint. Whereas they were used to Jinx's hyper colored room, the mechanic wasn't used to the same hues in their apartment. Thankfully all the time spent in the girl's room made them a bit more resistant to it.

Once they carefully tip-toed to their couch - hoping not to step on any of the projects -, Ren dropped down with a big sigh, tossing the parts on the floor. Their entire body was screaming for rest since for the past few day they have only been building pieces and working out; besides sleeping and eating, of course. Ever since Silco told them the news, Ren became too excited to work with a new metal to be able to focus on much else. The only thing that kept them somewhat away from the project was working out but even that just made them more tired. In turn, they could feel their body slowly giving up.

That didn't mean the mechanic could stop, though. So after an hour of lying on the couch, they got up and did their usual workout routine before eating some dinner. Ren usually didn't eat much, not that most of the Undercity did. People in Zaun were used to having smaller portions of food as that's what life had given them. And the mechanic was no stranger to that either. Part of them missed all the luxuries of Piltover; like warm soup and freshly baked bread. They even sighed sometimes when thinking about it. Of course, they couldn't afford such things here. Not even with their rather well paying job.

Ren ended up fixing some broken parts before heading to bed. Tonight was another night filled with nightmares that woke the mechanic up about every two hours. Once they couldn't fall asleep anymore, they got up and took a quick bath. Since the warm water lasted for about five minutes, Ren had to wash their hair with freezing cold water. When the mechanic got out of the shower, they quickly wrapped a towel around themselves before rushing back to the living room. Then they grabbed the curtains and shut them so they could dry themselves and get dressed.

While they waited for their hair to dry, Ren treated themselves to a breakfast. Ever since their hair had grown, it took more time to dry it but thankfully waking up early gave them just enough. Once it did, it was already time to leave their apartment and go to the Drop. The walk there was usual, the mechanic didn't even notice the presence of shimmer anymore. It was just yet another thing they got used to while living here. The journey to the bar wasn't long and soon Ren found themselves just in front of it. They greeted the guards before walking in.

On the inside the usual sight welcomed them - everyone busy with their own business. Some of the workers gave a nod of acknowledgment before returning to their tasks. Ren walked besides them, greeting those they were more familiar with and sat down in a corner, tossing their bag on the table.

Today was another one of those days when Jinx was at her training and couldn't join Ren in building machines. Not that the mechanic was not used to it by now. Even on days when she was at the Drop, the need for Ren's services have declined over the two months they have spent as the girl's mentor. Jinx was developing her skills way faster than possibly anyone; she was practically a genius. So the girl often went out on her own and created things separately from Ren.

As Ren was working on fixing up a gun, someone sat down at the other side of the table. Looking up, they saw that it was none other than Sevika. The mechanic smiled at the woman who only gave them a grunt.

"What're you smiling at?" she side eyed Ren.

"Nothing." they chuckled. "So how comes you sit here?"

"Can I not?" Sevika snorted. "So sorry little mechanic, didn't mean to interrupt your precious work with my presence."

"You shall be forgiven." the mechanic gave their best to impersonate a snob piltie.

Sevika's lips twitched into a smile before disappearing. The woman turned away, lighting her cigarette. Ren learned relatively early on that Sevika preferred rolling her own but often couldn't because she was busy. Now however, she was smoking a cigarette that was rolled by her. The mechanic licked their lips in a desperate attempt to not start smoking with her. Ren had to do some work before they could go on a smoking break.

The mechanic knew better than to start a conversation with Sevika, so they both sat in silence while Ren worked. She leaned back and closed her eyes for a moment. Ren was sure she was experiencing pain from her robotic arm and that's what had her more tired than usual. The wincing from time to time also convinced the mechanic that she was probably in pain. Sadly there was nothing they could do at the moment, at least not until Silco provided them with the needed materials. Ren understood that it was no easy job, of course. Getting anything imported to Zaun was a pain in the ass in itself; let alone a special metal the mechanic has never worked with.

Just as Ren finished with the gun, Sevika's voice broke them away from the machine. "How busy are you today?"

"Not really." they shrugged. "One of the lights is flickering in the bathroom so I will check that out but as far as I know, there's nothing else i could be working on."

"Good." she nodded. "We are going out."

"Where?" their eyebrows furrowed.

"Silco wants to grab that metal." Sevika explained. "It finally arrived but needs some strong hands to bring it here."

"I fail to see why this would require me?" Ren crossed their arms. "I'm sure one of his thugs can do that."

"Yes, but unfortunately for me, they aren't experts." she sighed. "So quit whining."

"Right, experts." the mechanic nodded. "The experts of metals."

"Isn't that the whole point of your job?" she leaned closer, trapping Ren in their seat. "To craft away with your metals, little mechanic?"

Ren raised an eyebrow. One day Sevika intimidated them but after spending two months here, they hardly even flinched when she got too close. Her glare still sent shivers down their spine but they weren't scared of the woman. Rather they just knew better than to make her too angry. After all, Ren didn't have a death wish.

"I fix things, I build things... but an expert of metals? Now, I have never been called that." they wondered out loud. "It is a bit inaccurate, though. You see, I don't-"

"Not interested." she leaned back, turning her attention to the rest of the bar.

The mechanic shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Ren decided to smoke a cigarette alongside Sevika. Usually it wasn't allowed to smoke inside the bar until it opened to the public. Even then, workers were required to smoke outside as to keep up the professional look. This rule didn't make any sense to the mechanic but they figured if Sevika is allowed to smoke inside, so were they. So they took out a cigarette and lit it with a match.

Sevika sent them some questioning looks before returning her attention to the rest of the staff. The woman wasn't the only one who had sent judgmental stares at Ren for lighting their cigarettes with marches but it wasn't something they were going to give up willingly. Once the cigarette was lit, they huffed a cloud of smoke. Ren leaned back, closing their eyes to enjoy the few minutes of peace they were offered. It was unusual to have such a slow day as this, but Ren wasn't going to complain about it.

They were about halfway through their cigarette when Sevika stubbed out hers. It wasn't done quite yet but Ren didn't question her. They rather just continued smoking away. That is until a voice interrupted them.

"Don't smoke in my bar." a deep voice called out.

Ren almost chocked on their cigarette as they immediately slammed it down to stub it. The smoke was still coming out of their mouth as they coughed. "Yes, sir."

Silco looked at them with disapproval while Sevika tried to hide her smile. Ren finally understood why she put her cigarette out - she heard that Silco was coming. It unsettled Ren that they didn't hear him walk down the stairs.

"I believe the rules are clear?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, sir. I apologize." they cleared their throat, trying not to cough again.

"Good. I don't give second chances." he turned away.

This was the second time Ren saw Silco outside his office; the first being when they met. He was standing elegant as ever with his big coat hanging down his shoulders. The colors matched his usual attire yet gave his silhouette a nice form. It was no lie that Silco knew how to dress. And with how he towered over them, Ren couldn't help but stare. Silco, of course, noticed and turned back to them.

"Well?" he questioned them.

Ren only noticed just then that Sevika has already stood up. No doubt both of them were waiting for the mechanic, so they followed suit and stood up. "Right, my metal expert duties."

Silco raised an eyebrow at that, looking as unamused as ever, whereas Sevika stifled a laugh. The man raised his head at her but decided to let it go and walk towards the exit. Sevika followed close behind, not letting the Eye out of sight. Ren understood why she was paranoid as no doubt many people were out for Silco at this very moment.

Onve they were outside, Sevika naturally joined his left side. Ren joined his right, trying to keep up with the pace of those two giants. Both of them were walking so fast the short mechanic practically had to jog to not get left behind. And they had to do that with utmost grace as to not bring shame on Silco. They could see the twitch of the man's lips as they yet again had to speed up to stay with the two. He was no doubt enjoying this, but Ren kept their opinion to themselves as it would get them in great trouble; especially outside where anyone could hear them.

They walked for what felt like eternity. Soon they left Silco's territory and entered a new one. Ren made sure to be on their guard even more, hoping a certain part of their past wouldn't like to catch up to them today. As if by magic Silco slightly turned his head towards them. The mechanic returned his stare, raising an eyebrow at him. He eyed them for a couple more seconds before returning his attention back to the road. Ren wondered if he felt their uneasiness but that couldn't have been possible.

Another eternity went by, straying further and further away from The Last Drop. The mechanic wasn't exactly happy about the distance, especially because they weren't quite familiar with the sights here. One of the many rules of Zaun was to always have an escape plan and Ren wasn't sure how they would escape from here if the chance arrived. This, of course, wasn't ideal. But Ren had placed their trust in Silco and Sevika, and they could only hope it wasn't a foul choice.

Ren could only describe the area as dark and dull. Most colors weren't exactly found in Zaun but this level of dullness was unusual even for the Undercity. What also unsettled them was the absolute lack of noises. Not a single living being walking by or just making any noise to signal it's existence. The mechanic wasn't the only one who seemed to notice the lack of life, as Silco and Sevika shared a look.

"Investigate." was the only thing Silco said before the woman disappeared behind a corner.

It was just the two of them left now. Ren stepped even closer to Silco than before. Now with Sevika gone the Eye was the only person they could rely on if something happened. Silco also seemed to pay closer attention to Ren now, but whether that was because he didn't trust them or not, the mechanic couldn't tell.

Despite their suspicions, they continued on their way. Soon Ren caught sight of the sign signaling the shop they were heading to. It was quite possibly the only light source around the area, making it glow in neon green. From the outside it looked quite cozy and safe but something felt wrong about it. Ren couldn't shake this feeling off that they were being watched, yet when their eyes scanned the area they didn't see anyone else.

The two stopped before the store, looking inside through the glass. It appeared to be dark in there and the shop owner was nowhere to be seen. Ren turned to Silco with a raised eyebrow.

"Should we wait for Sevika?" they looked around once more. Strange, they thought - Sevika disappeared into the darkness and hadn't come back since.

"Might I remind you that we appear to be standing targets?" Silco nodded towards a far off building.

Ren followed his line of sight, seeing an abandoned factory with one window open that just so happened to stare back at the two. It was an ideal place for a sniper.

"Right." they agreed. "In we go."

Ren opened the door and stepped inside first. They scanned the room, looking and listening for anything suspicious. But it was dead silent inside. They nodded at Silco who also walked in, looking around. Ren noticed that a great deal of metals were lying on the counter with a paper over them. After some hesitation, they stepped closer to read it. 'For Master Silco' it said. Ren took a step back, looking at the Eye questioningly. He also walked closer, inspecting the note.

"Have you already payed for it?" the mechanic decided to ask.

"Yes." he stayed unmoving.

"Then maybe he left it out because he was busy with something else?" Ren tried coming up with an answer for this strange morning.

Silco raised an eyebrow at that but decided not to question them. "Is the metal to your liking?"

Ren turned back to the goods to inspect them. They lifted one piece and a gasp almost left their mouth at that moment. It was lighter than any metal of this caliber they have worked with so far, yet it wasn't thinner. The mechanic tried bending it but it didn't budge, meaning it was perfect for it's purpose. Just as they were about to turn back, from the corner of their eye they noticed a red puddle behind the counter. It seemed to be leaking from behind the closed door, possibly leading to the back of the shop.

The mechanic called out to Silco, pointing at the liquid. He walked closer to look at it but froze as soon as he saw it. Ren placed the metal down before going around the counter. No one was hiding behind it but the oddly red liquid didn't make them any calmer either. They knew exactly what the liquid was but deep inside they hoped it was just a misunderstanding. After some hesitation, they stepped closer, careful not to walk into the puddle. With a quick move, they opened the door.

What was behind it terrified them. An old man, covered in blood sat on the ground, his eyes open and staring into nothingness. There was a knife in his hand, but it was clean. Ren's breathing quickened as they turned back to Silco. Their eyes were wide open and the man immediately knew something was wrong, so he walked behind the counter to see it for himself. When he got far enough, he stopped in his tracks. Silco grabbed Ren's robotic arm and dragged them towards the exit.

"We have to go." was the only thing he said.

The mechanic tore their arm away from his and rushed to grab the pieces of metal from the counter. Silco just rolled his eyes before stepping outside. Ren could barely keep up with him as he traveled from shadow to shadow. He was insanely fast, and sneaky. If they didn't pay attention, he could've easily disappeared without them noticing. Or perhaps he wanted to be seen by Ren and only them.

Sevika was nowhere to be found yet and it worried Ren. It couldn't have been a coincidence that she went missing just now when they found a dead body. With the metals in their hands, the mechanic wasn't exactly the least noticeable target around the area and that dangered both their and Silco's life. If anything happened to the man, Ren wasn't sure they could do much to help without Sevika. But there wasn't time to find her, they needed to get out now.

As they walked in the foggy darkness, Ren was watching the shadows beside them. Just as they passed through another turn, they saw someone walking towards them at the other side of the street. Calmness washed over Ren's face, thinking it was Sevika at first. But then they noticed the lack of poncho over her left arm and dread ran over them again. Silco took a right turn, the mechanic following close behind. His pace quickened but both of them saw another person walking just towards them again.

They turned right, then left, then right again. Ren was already so lost, and panicking as they saw even more people cornering them. But then as if by magic, the mechanic saw the end of the area. It was a little opening, abandoned just like everything else here. It was so close, but as they got there, multiple men stepped out of the shadows, circling around Ren and Silco. All of them were taller than Silco and with muscles as big as Ren's head. The mechanic turned around, only to see the previous three man joining the others.

Ren counted ten henchmen that cornered them, but right in front of Silco there was an eleventh one. He dressed nicer than the others, richer even. The man was also shorter by at least a head, making him about as tall as Silco. His dirty blonde hair was messily brushed to one side of his head, leaving the shaved part on the other. With his hands clasped behind his back, Ren was reminded of how Silco had carried himself, only this man did it with far less grace.

"Such a pity getting killed in a dark alley like this." he spoke in a high pitched voice, one that almost annoyed the mechanic. It was the kind of voice that gets stuck in your head whether you want it or not. "Too bad no one will miss you."

Silco only eyed the man. He didn't regard him with any of his words. Perhaps he thought the man didn't deserve it, or maybe he was trying to find a way out of this.

"And who might you be?" the man turned to Ren.

"Sorry, my parents taught me not to talk to strangers." they shrugged with a cold stare.

The man chuckled. "Come now, we don't need to be strangers. There is no need for more blood to be shed."

"What do you suggest then?" Ren decided to press further. Maybe if they kept him talking, Silco would have enough time to come up with a plan.

"This old man's time is over and mine has come." he laughed. "Please call me Zack, you will recognize that name starting from today."

"Zack, huh?" they raised an eyebrow, taking a quick glance at Silco.

His face was as neutral as ever, almost as if he was bored by the conversation. Looking back at Zack they noticed how his jaw clenched at the lack of reaction.

"Anyhow, I'm a graceful man," he started, "if you you join me right at this moment, I will give you a chance to stand by my side in New Zaun."

"That's a ridiculous name." Ren burst out laughing. "New Zaun? Do you expect people to call this city that?"

Zack's smile dropped. "Listen to me carefully. I give you one last chance to turn to the winning side. And to convince you of my graciousness, I offer you a job. Be honest now, how much does Silco pay you?"

Ren thought for a second. "40 an hour."

The man's jaw clenched again. It was clear he was getting tired of Ren's games. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not." they were, in fact, lying. Ren didn't even get payed half of that. "If you don't believe me ask the Eye himself."

Zack's eyes flashed to Silco for a moment before he turned back to Ren. "I will give you 20 and you get to keep your sorry little life."

"Only 20? Hmmm, that hardly seems like a good deal to me." they wondered out loud before releasing a sigh. "But alright. You have overpowered us, after all. What could little ol' me do in this situation?"

Ren carefully placed down the metal pieces before walking over to Zack. They didn't look back at Silco, only stared at the man in front of them. He had a huge smile on his face, making his golden teeth appear. The mechanic was disgusted by him but this was the only way they could get Silco out of here alive. Rather the Eye survives so they won't get blamed for his death. Having angered a Chem-baron was alreadyenough for them.

"You see this is the difference between you and Silco." they rewarded him with the kindest smile they could muster up. "Silco didn't have to beg me to join him."

With that they threw a punch straight at his face. Zack fell backwards, his guards barely registering what had happened. With the element of surprise, Ren spun around and threw the second punch at one of the henchmen. Then chaos broke out. Ren got grabbed from behind, trapping their neck between someones arms as another guard punched them in the stomach. They yelped in pain before reaching up to their attacker's face and pushing his eyes inside. He screamed and released the mechanic almost immediately.

Then they kicked him in the nuts before grabbing his head and smashing it down on their knees. He fell to the ground but before they could do anything else, another pair of hands punched straight into their spine. Ren did their best to gain the upper hand but all of the guards were far more experienced in fighting than them. So after taking out about three of them, the fourth one finally pushed them to the ground. He held them there, hitting them and after a final punch, Ren's vision darkened.

Ren could only hear their ears ringing and saw the darkness around them. As time went on - they didn't know how much -, it cleared somewhat and they saw someone's legs. This person was walking away from them. But why was he, Ren didn't know. It felt like they were in a haze as they stared off to their left side. They saw a lanky man fight for his life with a dagger in his hand, four bodies lying on the ground beside him. But the odds were against him as three other, much muscular men cornered him.

For a moment Ren's brain didn't quite work, as they haven't even understood what they saw. Then the memories started to come back. Ren was on a mission to take the special metal back to the Drop. But where was the metal? Their eyes scanned the area, watching as the lanky man fought off yet another one of guards. By his side they spotted the metal pieces. As they stared at his direction, other memories started to come back. The people who accompanied them were Silco and Sevika. Of course, Silco. He was the man fighting for his life. As the information registered in their brain, the world started to come back to them, loud and faster than before. Silco was fighting for his life and about to lose.

Oh no.

Ren moved without thinking, jumping up from the ground and lunging at the closest henchman. They didn't realise how much force they had lunged with but Ren managed to push him to the ground. Without a second thought they started hitting his face with all their might. It was only after he wasn't moving anymore that Ren looked up. Their attention immediately turned to Silco, who was toppled over by his opponent. The guard was ready to strike him down but Ren lunged once again.

Thankfully the two didn't fall on Silco, but Ren could feel his body move away from them. Ren was almost pushed over, but got hold of the henchman just in time to grab a nearby pipe and smashed it to his face. He yelped before being met with another hit. That was enough for him to stop moving. Ren was panting as they slowly stood up, looking down at the bloody scene before them.

After a few seconds of registering what just happened, their head turned to Silco, who was still lying on the ground. With the dagger in his right hand, he was staring up at the mechanic. His eyes were wide open, his mouth moving slowly as he panted. Streaks of hair fell into his face as sweat flowed down his cheeks. The darkness made his orange eye pop up like a lighthouse at sea. The fog made him appear ethereal somehow.

Just as Ren tried to form a sentence, they heard some movement behind them. Slowly they turned around, holding their left side in pain. Zack stood up from the ground, his face bloodied by a broken nose, no doubt. Ren had just noticed that something purple was glowing in his pockets. He grabbed it and pulled it out, revealing a shimmer vial.

"I will," he spat out some blood, "destroy you with the very thing that built your empire."

Before any of them could do anything, Zack drank the content of the vial. His body started twisting and turning in ways that Ren had never seen shimmer do before. This was clearly a variant of it that they had never experienced. Ren's eyes widened as the man's muscles grew and tore his clothes apart. His stare could only be described as completely animalistic. It was as if the shimmer had taken all his humanity.

Ren glanced down at Silco, still lying by their side. Then they turned to the man. Sadly there was no way out of this. Ren needed to go up against Zack to at least give Silco enough time to escape. It seemed a good end for their life - dying for the cause. A far better fate than dying by the hand of an angry Chem-baron seeking revenge, or by a failed mugging in the dark alleys. Perhaps it was meant to be like this, and Ren had accepted it like they always accepted their fate.

With a deep sigh, they stepped closer to Zack, raising their hands to fight. He charged at them without a word. No more insults or threats, just lunging at the enemy. Ren could only see a purple flash and a breeze that was closing in on them; and Zack's distorted face getting closer to them at inhuman speed. Those purple glowing eyes would haunt them for the rest of their lives.

But before he could get to them, another purple flash from the right lunged at him. Ren could barely register what happened as they stared at another person joining the fight. Then they recognized who's metal arm was currently punching Zack's head into the concrete. Sevika. She appeared to be equally as messed up as both Ren and Silco, which could only mean that she had also fought.

Ren turned around, offering Silco a helping hand. He took it and and soon he was standing. The Eye looked down at the mechanic with feigned composure. He put his dagger away before walking to Sevika. She had just finished with Zack, who looked absolutely unrecognizable by now. Her eyes also glowed purple yet she looked far less terrifying than Zack did.

"You are late." Silco hissed.

"I got held up by the rest." she answered.

"There were more?" Ren whispered. Their head hurt from all the loud noises. They just hoped they didn't accidentally get a concussion.

"Where do you think I was 'til now?" Sevika snorted. "Got yourself hit in the head or what?"

"Just a little." they sighed, moving their hand to their face.

Ren hissed in pain as they touched an open wound around their left brow. Pulling their hand back, they could see plenty amount of blood dripping down between their fingers. This would surely leave a scar.

"Take the items." Silco ordered the woman. "We shall worry about the bodies once we are safe."

Sevika nodded before grabbing the metal pieces. After that, she held onto Ren's shoulder for just a second. "Don't faint now, mechanic."

"What, you worried?" they smirked.

The woman let out a grunt. "It would be a pain in my ass to drag your limp body back. Now move."

Ren didn't even try to hide their smile as they followed Silco. The man looked back at the two with a raised brow but didn't interrupt. What happened just now had made all three of them tired, so there was little to none speaking during the walk. Not that Ren minded that of course, the loud streets of Zaun were already far too noisy for their liking. So they just silently followed the two giants back to The Last Drop.

Once at the bar, Silco gave orders for all his men - mostly to pick up the bodies left behind. Sevika was also sent out there again, once she had successfully dropped the goods in Silco's office. After she had left, only Silco and Ren remained in the office, possibly in the entire building. The man in question sighed as he removed his coat and hung it up. He walked over to his desk and poured himself a drink. Ren on the other hand wasn't quite sure what to do, so they just watched his movements.

After the Eye downed the entire cup, he slammed it down before turning back to the mechanic. For a few quiet moments they just regarded each other silently. Then he moved over to his drawers and pulled a med-kit out. Once he opened the box, he grabbed a bottle and a handkerchief. He walked over to Ren, towering over their form. Then he rolled up his sleeves, getting ready to work.

"Sit." he ordered.

It didn't take any more for Ren to follow. They immediately hopped down on the couch, eyes still focused on Silco. He opened the bottle and soaked the handkerchief in it's contains. Then he grabbed Ren's face, and leaned closer to them. He pressed his right knee to the couch, resting it between their legs.

"Don't move."

Ren didn't dare breathe in that moment. They only watched Silco as he carefully started wiping the blood off their face. A hiss escaped their mouth as the chemical got into their wound, leaving a burning sensation. Silco just tightened his grip, making sure Ren wouldn't move. He was so focused on cleaning their wound, he didn't even notice how Ren was staring at him; with lips open, admiring. Silco had never been so close to them before and they were appalled.

Once he finished cleaning the wound on their brow, he dumped the handkerchief into the bottle again and started working on their lower lip. Ren didn't even notice there was a wound there but they sure felt it when Silco pressed the cloth against their skin. Yet they didn't dare shut their eyes, no matter how much it hurt. This moment, being so close to the Eye of Zaun was too precious to close their eyes. Silco pressed his thumb on their lips, pulling it apart so he could excess the wound more. When he was done, he walked back to his desk, leaving a dumbfounded Ren behind.

But he soon came back with some thread and a needle in his hand. Ren tried to stop him but Silco was able to convince them to sit still. Then he began working his way through their skin with the needle. Ren grabbed the couch in pain and held onto it for dear life. Silco's unusually calm gaze had calmed them down somewhat but on the inside they were still praying that this will be over soon. And thankfully it was. The Eye worked quickly, his hands clearly having practiced it before. After a couple minutes, Silco was already back at his desk, carefully putting away the med-kit.

"You need rest. Go home." he said without turning to the mechanic.

"No." Ren shook their head. "We just got the metals I can still-"

"You are disoriented." Silco finally turned around. "I hardly think it is a good idea to handle sharp tools at this time."

"Pff, this but a scratch." they waved their hand dismissively. "I can work just fine."

Silco didn't say anything to that, instead he turned back to his desk. "Do as you want as long as you can ensure that the quality of your work won't decline."

"Yes, sir." they saluted. "Oh, and a quick question. Do you mind if I work at your office again?"

"Is my hospitality not good enough for you as it is?" he sighed. "As I said, do as you want."

Ren took that as a definitive yes, so they ran downstairs to bring their equipment back. Once they had everything at hand, they sat down on the floor to work at the arm. They didn't have the blueprint with them but it was fine, since they had spent so much time staring at it, they practically memorized it all. Of course, they couldn't finish all of it at Silco's office, since most of their tools required for this type of work were left at home, but some parts of it could be made even here.

Some time went by and Ren just worked on the arm. What didn't leave them to rest was that annoying feeling on the back of their neck, as if someone was watching them. Once they looked up, they realised why they had felt that. Silco was standing in front of his desk, hips resting on the edge. His sleeves were still rolled up, and he held a glass of whiskey in his right hand. As he was staring down at the mechanic, his hair fell into his face again, making his usually organized composure rather messy. Yet his eyes never left Ren.

The mechanic wasn't quite sure why the Eye was watching them, so they returned to their work. Only the staring didn't stop. Everytime Ren looked up, they only saw the mismatched eyes intently watching their every move. His expression was unreadable of course, as it always was. But he didn't look particularly angry, at least not more than he usually was. Ren was about to ask why he was staring at them but Silco beat them to it.

"Did you consider?" he questioned, tone as serious as it could be.

Ren blinked for a moment, unsure what he was referring to. "What?"

"Did you consider joining him?" he repeated.

"No." Ren shook their head.

So this was why Silco had stared at them. He must have been wondering about Ren's actions earlier. It made sense to them now, since he had been quite shocked after the fight. Ren still remembered his widened eyes staring up at them as they offered him a hand. It was truly a sight to behold.

"Not even with your life on the line?" Silco pressed further.

"No." they answered again. "I thought that if this was the place I died, at least my death would be worth it. Dying for the cause is quite noble, in my opinion."

"You were ready to just sacrifice yourself?" he raised a brow. "Some would call that reckless, foolish even."

Ren shrugged. "I'm not stupid, I know that shimmered idiot would've killed me. My only goal was to give you enough time to get away from him."

"Why?"

It seemed their previous answers were not good enough for Silco.

"Don't you remember your 'promise'?" they stood up. "I will not let you bite the dust before I see this city rise from the ashes. Besides, I feel safe around here. Why would I give that up?"

For a moment he just stared at them. His eyes moved between Ren's before he opened his mouth. "I appreciate it."

"Good." they crossed their arms. "You should say that more. I work my ass off for you, ya'know?"

"Don't be greedy." he rose from the desk, downing his drink. "Greed is a prime way to lead yourself to failure."

"If I was greedy I would've accepted that slime's offer." they smirked. "20 an hour doesn't sound so bad..."

"You won't get a raise." he sighed.

"Dammit, I was almost there." Ren exclaimed dramatically.

"Far from it." Silco sat down in his chair.

The mechanic laughed before returning to their work. Sadly there wasn't much left to do, only a few smaller bits. After that they had to go home and continue with their full equipment. But until then they remained in the comfortable silence between the two. The rhythmic scratches of Silco's pen were rather therapeutic to Ren; it was easy to focus like this. But soon the time came when Ren didn't have anything left to do, so they rose from the floor after they managed to put everything away in their bag. Silco's eyes flashed to them, raising a brow.

"I need the tools from my apartment to keep working." they explained. "So if it's the safe for you, I will be going now."

"Mhm." he nodded.

Ren sent him a smile before turning around and walking to the door. Just as they were about to touch the handle, Silco's voice rang again.

"And Ren, you are welcome to work in my office whenever Jinx isn't available." he said without looking up from his papers. "See you tomorrow."

Ren smiled to themselves. "See ya!"

Then they left his office and with that, they left the Drop too.

#silco #arcane #silco x oc #silco x reader #silco fanfiction #silco fanfic #jinx #sevika #arcane fanfic #arcane silco #arcane jinx #arcane sevika #arcane oc #renco

2 notes · View notes

bunningchaos · 1 year ago

Text

Thanks for the 23 follows!

Do NOT claim Nuax as your own character, please. He belongs to me.

Have a drawing of Nuax comforting you when you're feeling low.

Honestly, I intended to have this done at 10 followers but I got sidetracked. And yes, I'm still working on the Christmas comics.

Though, if you'd like to draw your character over the 'Anon' figure, have these versions of the drawing!

It'll all be under the cut, oh and.. there's also a story written to follow with the image. Wayy below if you're interested in reading!

If you do use drawing to add your character or even yourself, please do post it and tag me and/or tag #NuaxComfort ! So that I can see your wonderful creations!

Unshaded

Pose Only

Background Only

Dodoooo...

Without further ado, have the story that was written within ten minutes or less. So do pardon me if there's any grammatical errors!

It had been about two weeks since you've been welcomed into this small yet lively AU that was ironically, named 'Safe Haven'. The one whom took you in went by the name of 'Fi' and they had also happily assisted you with settling in with the other residents alongside granting you keys to your new house. All within the time-span of a day

It was overwhelming to even process everything that happened, especially when it went through this quickly. You begun to wonder if this was a dream, unaccustomed to the warmth and kindness you received.

Of course, you didn't take things for granted. Trying your absolute best to socialize with everyone else and partaking in their shenanigans which was one of the most joy you've experienced. Albeit also getting into trouble and having to be lectured by Ctrin, when things got out of hand.

Yet..

Your chest felt heavy.

The moment you're alone, even for awhile. The uneasiness you feel within the back of your mind that you've been desperately trying to push aside, it kept on returning back.

The urge to cry, to just breakdown and scream. It gradually was getting harder to brush off.

You carried so much on your shoulders but there was noone to talk to. For, the fear of driving people away, forced you to keep your mouth shut.

"…Hello" A soft, unfamiliar voice soon spoke out from behind you when you were tightly gripping onto the front of your shirt. Your breathing unstable and heavy, a clear sign that you were NOT okay.

Turning your head towards the direction of the voice, you notice it was Nuax. The one small skeleton that was always lingering around town and rarely talked, with the exception of a selective few.

Even then, seeing Nuax taking the initiative to approach someone was.. rare.

So you weren't sure how to react to Nuax's sudden greeting, that and, the look in his eye lights. It felt as if he could see right through you.

"…Are.. you okay?" Was the only other thing that he asked, as he gently reached one of his scarf's end to wrap around your wrist. His voice sounded so comforting, causing you to drop your guard without realising.

As much as you wanted to keep your mouth shut, you couldn't. Tears was already starting to gather within the corner of your eyes as Nuax stared up at you worriedly. Soon he gently pulled you along to his house that was only a few steps away from yours.

Seating you down by the couch, the smaller skeleton sat down next to you and lightly tapped his lap. Giving you permission to rest your head on him which you hesitantly but gladly accepted.

This was.. nice.

You soon feel a blanket being pulled over you as Nuax begun to slowly but lightly pat your head, whilst a comforting warmth gradually engulfed you, allowing your body to ease up further.

However, you could've sworn you saw pink particles of magic but your vision was incapable of processing it.

..No, it was more so, you're refusing to acknowledge the usage of magic on you. You were relaxed far too easily, and you knew that.

This feeling of warmth and comfort, was one that you had been desperately craving for. You've always wanted someone to listen to you, for you to get the heavy feeling off your chest.

Without even thinking, you soon opened your mouth and started spilling everything. Everything that you had been bottling up until now

Nuax, didn't stop you. He listened to it all, continuing to give you soft pats on the head as you ranted....

#undertale #undertale au #safe haven timeline #nuax #bunningart #NuaxComfort #bunningstory #BunningFollowersSpecial

10 notes · View notes

wellntruly · 2 years ago

Text

M*A*S*H - Season 9, misc. notes

Honestly I should probably retire feeling as I do that I have finally reached the Ultimate M*A*S*H note,

“Must you have every conversation nude and wet?”

— — —

For reasons I COULD NOT TELL YOU, the first episode of Season 9, but just the first one, has its own solo horn theme song orchestration, and when I tell you I was not prepared!!!

Here have an indicative video of my reaction from when I immediately alerted Jody to this

I promise I’d only had (2) gin, Suze, & lemon things

“What about BJ? He’s gotta be a bridge player, he lives in the suburbs!” Must feel so great to just get bodied by Father Mulcahy.

Oh, Margaret & BJ in this casually collaborative daydrunk register is VERY fun. This is what you guys get trying to corral a pair of flirty blondes.

We just got a product placement for this. Allowed.

Honestly, who was like, it’s gonna be raining, hard, whole episode. Amazing. And They Were All So Damp.

……Klinger has a pair of gay chinchillas. This is not extrapolation this is real.

Any time they turn Hawkeye into Dr. W.H.R. Rivers, that’s the business.

I will someday have to go down the entire imagination rabbit hole of them actually moving camp. Hawkeye just indicated they moved 5 months ago. That’s wild.

Can’t believe I’m only just now asking, but what on earth are they winding on this phone? Update: it's powering the battery!

New Season Nine Theme Song II is actually maybe the most similar to Theme Original Era and it’s giving me some emOTIONS THAT ARE NOW BURSTING FORTH AT THIS CONTINUING JAZZY BACKGROUND MUSIC INTO THE OPENING SCENE LIKE WE USED TO OMG

Idly tracking what light makes Alan Alda’s hair look the most grey and which the most dark is a foolish errand, but one to which I apply myself. Natural lighting is a factor.

“Any father of Margaret’s is a father of mine.” Hawk you already have two dads, easy.

“Educational materials” is such a good euphemism

Sometimes I have to stop and think about how Sherman Potter is a doctor, and then my heart kinda melts over him. He’s regular army who went medical <3

BJ is now wearing the pink shirt WITH the vermillion suspenders AND the patched hat. Best with/and credit I’ve seen in a while.

Oh Mike’s doing a winter episode, hey!

Helmet cloche over the snacks…this speaks to me

Interesting, I find this time of death plot more morally dubious than you all seem to!

Having it suddenly be December 31, 1950, THE earliest we’ve ever been stated to be, is so deranged. :) Hold on let me pull up my Wikipedia history notes titled “KOREAN WAR FUCKING TIMELINE”... okay, yes: the front was so chaotic at that time

NAVY BLUE PARKAS????!

Okay good the coats are a plot point

HILARIOUS to now immediately skip forward a month and a half

Never mind, INCREDIBLE to be like, time is meaningless here 😎 all of 1951 in one episode

Not tan Margaret’s 1980 feathered hair too….

Everyone uses BJ to wind yarn. This we love.

The meta irony of them pretending to be cold while it’s canonically hot……..yes.

“You blow one more kiss, Pierce, and those lips will never walk again.” Been TOO long since a line like this and a gay little draw-back from Hawkeye, particularly at a senior officer.

I kind of like everyone calling him Max, now. Feels cozy.

BJ waking up and mildly going heyy, what’s going on, do I need to go with you to wherever these large Marines are taking you---strong shades of BJ Part One

Twice now in the last two seasons I’ve seen Hawkeye pull on a pair of pants and belt them over his T-shirt, and then the next time we see him full-length his shirt is its usual untucked. They simply refuse to change the established character design silhouette any more, and I’m like, just once?? Haha okay, just realized part of why I get amped about the dressy uniforms.

Appreciate that Potter has NO patience for Wagner, on, hilariously, purely political grounds. I mean valid.

Klinger finally meeting his Canadian friend from the radio :: me finally meeting a mutual from the internet

Charles: “Noo, you chimney sweep.” INCRedible

I will take Harry Morgan’s pronunciation of “Au revoir” tenderly to my grave. “Ohhh reh-vore”

BJ is so annoyed. He does not like Hawkeye soliciting sexual favors with wine. Which is funny as his opening remark was to offer sexual favors for the wine. In many ways, this episode is shaping up to have such a "Season 1" effect, for good or ill.

AND Klinger in a dress again! “your coquette look” coquette…Potter….

Oh okay it was the Season 1 Commentary episode lol

Just so simple and effective and timeless to predicate a whole episode on “one of our characters is injured”

BJ curling away from everyone like a dog with a hurt paw, oh boy

Strudel, I do not think you are “BJ’s doctor” in any way except that you would like to be

EXTREMELY in love with ~*A Potter Production*~

Specialist: “Way to find out fast is to lift that middle finger, see how bad it hurts.” BJ, at Hawkeye’s hesitation: “Go on, you’re just following doctor’s orders.” OH GODDD

We gotta…..we gotta not be filming up Alda's bare thighs again. Now it’s a pattern.

BJ lying on his back, eyes open in the dark, not even pretending he’s falling asleep just thinking his thoughts in the new Night Thoughts time he’s been granted by circumstance: me my two summers without AC in New York City. He's got it right.

Margaret, respectfully: cute buns

Gonna need to do a real “Computer, enhance” on this postcard pinned by Hawkeye’s bed that does not appear to be to him.

Okay definitely is this addressed to a Mr. John Murdock, in Seattle, Wash. It appears to be from Victoria. Set dressing department, no one wanted to write an absurd fake postcard to Hawkeye? Are you kidding? That’s the best assignment!

Oh my god, Margaret’s cute buns are a plot point!

Klinger’s striped pantaloons...

BJ, you’re 6’4”. Or nearly.

A type of humor that will always get me is when the person stuck listening to someone fret over a situation they are entirely imagining just pivots along with whatever it is this minute. "No wonder Peg is leaving you!" just killed me.

This is not the kind of joke that normally makes me laugh, but I’m losing it. I think it’s that everyone is so baffled, just silently listening to this surreal butt rash talk echoing in the middle of the night, peering quizzically up at the speakers like…….wat

Madly in love with this episode description that feels exactly like those fake Star Trek: TNG synopses that writer was posting. I think it’s the incongruous A plot/B plot paired with a qualitative value judgement, something that’s usually more the purview of an audience.

What you must love about Klinger is that he always gets the right outfit for the job

Ding ding ding, our second “SNAFU”

It happens so rarely that I've never gained any protection against it, I am simply NEVER ready for Hawkeye to mention Trapper. GOD. I freeze! Heart and limbs! And then to just go on, depressedly: “Trapper John goes. No problem, there's plenty more where he came from. BJ Hunnicutt---same size, same shape.” Ha ha YIKES? YIKES to all of you and me!!!!!! Wooow!!!!!

And they took Frank Burns, and sent you Winchester. You snap Henry Blake’s in half. Hawkeye….! Alan. (dir.)

EXCUSE ME HIS NAME IS IGOR STRAMINSKY? LOOOOOLLLL

Just love Hawkeye in this mode, intent and askew with a strange fey air. Trapper would be spending this whole episode keeping tabs on him [DON'T touch me]; BJ is basically nowhere to be found. Perhaps understandable given earlier Hawkeye said that he was just one warm body replacing another. LORDT, lately this show is really getting like, have you considered Hawkeye/BJ, bleak? And I’m like …..huh! Oh???

Innncredibly discomfiting for you to be calling him Ben, reporter

Wow Potter I’m obsessed with this painting where you’ve rendered Hawkeye as a wry and definitely dead little ghast! Sherman hello???

Charlie is like, genuinely plotting how to maim or murder this man.

Must you have every conversation nude and wet?

BJ....[short sigh], there's no need to be so combative about missing your family. Again.

Hawkeye, tired: “Well look at the bright side: at least you have me.” BJ, also tired: “You’re gonna have to shave.” Honestly the more they make Hawkeye/BJ into something rather grim and downtrodden and transactional the more I can believe it's happening, haha uh oh! Oh no!

This scene is perfect. This is a perfect scene. Ogden Stiers delivering his recorded will in exactly the right tone, Alda and Farrell listening out of focus in the door window with exactly legible enough reactions...

Whoooo is your tall card friend, Margaret! Who calls you “kid” 👀

Oh another odd tone this episode that I am so interested in, what’s going on!!

Of this and the other "Hawkeye's jokes are a symptom of his complex traumas" episode, this one is hitting him SO much harder about it, positively You're In A Narrative shit. Elated. Alan. Again.

Just self-identified as Ben Pierce. Everything’s going, excuse me, bottoms up.

“Our own clean-cut, adorable, soft-spoken BJ is a perverse genius.” When are we??!! This was still true in early S6 at the ABSOLUTE latest. This has not been true at all for nearly three years. Clean-cut! What! Soft-spoken. At this point BJ yells in every third episode.

Waaaait a minute, don’t malaria pills give you weird ass dreams? Well this has incredible potential. Perhaps not here, but for me.

Thank you for the return of Margaret & Hawkeye: Buddies. Hawkeye: “Alright that does it, I’m putting him on report. How do you do that?”

Okay is this gonna be the only M*A*S*H episode that ends with a scientific note about medical advances since the 1950s?? Can all of them???

I have been wondering for nine seasons now about the PA announcer we have never seen. Wonderfully banally surreal. This comes entirely from the same realm as Radar's clairvoyance and I support it with all I am.

Hawkeye has phantom allergies and after their tests are inconclusive it takes all of no seconds for them to start offering garlic and essential oils. NOTHING IS NEW UNDER THE SUN.

Continuing to glimpse Margaret hovering outside and hollering in suggestions whenever they open the door to the showers is SUCH GOOD STUFF

I appreciate the uh, SEVERITY of how badly Hawkeye has deteriorated in one scene cut. I did play a game later with my therapist friend called When Would YOU Call The Psychologist, and she also would not have picked Sidney over like, an ALLERGIST, at this moment. Granted I would like them to call Dr. Freedman every episode on the grounds of I love him.

Well I am deeply enjoying the psychological detective show this one has turned into. It’s so tactile! Will Sidney find an meaningful object in one of these boxes that explains Hawkeye’s psychosomatic sneezing?? Haha what a House M.D. episode.

Ah so your mom was still alive when you were six. Your mom was gone by the time you were what, 10? Oh honey…

Of course little Hawkeye almost drowned. I don’t know why that fits for him but it does. I guess because we've seen him experience quite a number of upsetting things while sopping wet. Hawkeye, dripping water and distressed, is a regular visual feature.

Gooodddd one of the best odd little things this show does sometimes is give us lines that don’t make sense, and we think we must have misheard, and then realize we didn’t, and then the floor feels a little loose.

Wow so we’re just gonna open this one directly with Swayze, huh

Wait okay, in the space of showing up for his second scene this ep I’ve come around to Rizzo. I think it’s that he’s always been crouching. It makes his deep raspy voice so funny from this angle. You just come around a corner and aw JEEZ it’s that baritone rat again with his little rat craps game. I thought we told you to clear outta here!

“Don’t think of it as a den, Father, think of it more as a…rec room.” Ogden Stiers….

You know who else’s characterization has moved more into a realm I find less interesting as the years have gone by? Father Mulcahy. He’s more what you might expect from a priest in a MASH unit now, usually around just to get righteously worked up over things. In the early seasons he was kind of lost and unsure and dorkily funny, askew from everyone else, but sweet and loved. Henry Blake tumbling into the Swamp and nearly hitting him with the door, swearing, then going “Oh I’m sorry Father I thought you were a regular person,” and him just cheerily, bashfully going “Quite alright!” as he ducks out. He was, above all, a model of empathy and forgiveness. He loved them, as Jesus loved, and so forgave them all their ridiculous, drunken, horny goings on, and was worried but content to just be kept as their sort of pet chaplain. Mulcahy in the later years has a MUCH much stronger sense of judgement, and is frequently quite caught up in his own even rather self-aggrandizing issues, to the point of sometimes being blind to the struggles of those around him, like is going on here. And he always figures it out, but like, I don't know it just feels more typical to me.

“Tasteless but at least it’s not funny.” Haha Margaret

Radar??! Hawkeye, misty: “That little twerp, just when I thought I’d gotten over him.” </3

“Just cuts and bruises—I’ve come home from dates in worse shape than you.” Hawk, don’t toss more kindling on this low-burning fire in the corner of my mind.

I kind of adore Margaret befriending the optometrist. They both LIKE each other a lot, in a completely platonic way.

I ADORE MARGARET AND THE OPTOMETRIST PRETENDING THEY’RE HAVING AN AFFAIR AS A BIG OL’ LARK

I also like Hawkeye and BJ taking bets with each other where they bet the same thing and then just exchange their money

Mulcahy: “What time is it in Iowa?” Charles: “1882.” I laughed so long.

Kellye holding the injured nurse’s hand. <3 They’ve been pals for seasons on seasons. I don’t know her name!

This felt like, appropriately war-is-hellish, while still maintaining their wry humor. This was real good.

Hawkeye’s French toast recipe has so many textural components...

Reeeally love the strange, moving simplicity of Charles just desperately asking this dying soldier, “What is happening to you?” Yeah, good episode!

— — —

Season Viewguides

These

#M*A*S*H #M*A*S*H hours #Misc. MASH #Tarra takes notes

20 notes · View notes

nysocboy · 8 months ago

Text

Gemstones Episode 3.3, Continued: A fire dance, a limp wrist, a phallic sword, and Balkan beefcake

Cousins' Afternoon: The Gemstone siblings and their partners sit on cabana chairs, insulting their cousins, the Montgomery boys, while they swim in the trout pond. Kelvin lays on the femme stereotyping, even flashing a limp wrist. This will be important later.

Keefe, who of course looks at men's crotches a lot, points out that Cousin Karl has a lot of pubic hair. Kelvin quips "Looks like he's got a chinchilla up there!" It sounds like he is making a mean joke to draw attention away from his interest in what men really have up there.

The Fire Dance: For their entertainment, Keefe performs a highly erotic fire dance in the waning light, near a path lit by a thousand fires. I am reminded of Coleridge's "Kublai Khan":

A savage place! as holy and enchanted as e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted by a man wailing for his demon lover.

Keefe here is the demon lover, pure erotic energy, offering his mouth, butt, and penis simultaneously. He is the new Messiah of Muscle, rejecting cozy, tepid phileo, friendship, for the eros, erotic desire, that promises ecstasy or damnation.

Early in the episode, Kelvin couldn't admit that they were lovers. Now Demon Keefe shows him that they are. He has never been sure if his desire for Keefe will lead him to heaven or hell. Now he knows -- both.

Background note: The dark, disturbing music playing is "Balkan Sex God" from A Serbian Film, 2010, which regularly appears on lists of "the most disturbing films of all time." It features Srđan Todorović as a retired porn actor drawn into starring in a snuff film.

Cousins' Evening: A huge dining hall, with the family and cousins using just one table, Keefe and Kelvin sitting across from each other instead of side by side! Why does the staging back off from depicting them as a couple?

Kelvin pours on the femme stereotypes thickly, limping his wrists constantly as if he's in a 1920s pansy act, and coincidentally or not puts his "wedding ring" on full display.

Uncle Baby Billy pretends he's the host of his Bible Bonkers game show, where families compete at Bible trivia. He goes around the table and asks each of the "contestants" their name and what they do for a living. The Montgomery boys work in landscaping. Then it's Keefe's turn. He is ready to speak, but Baby Billy skips him with a rude "nuh-huh," angering him. But it's not a homophobic snub: Baby Billy skips over BJ, too: "You ain't family." Only born Gemstones count.

Next it's "the weirdo boy with the puffy muscles," the second and last reference to Kelvin's physique this season, and maybe a euphemism for "gay." But Kelvin refuses to participate.

Lick his what?: Jesse and Cousin Chuck pair off for a question from Genesis 40, where Joseph, in prison, interprets the dreams of the Pharaoh's butler and baker. It should be familiar even to non-Evangelical viewers from Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, but Jesse gets the answer wrong. The trivia contest devolves into a knife fight, which ends when Cousin Karl begins choking. Everyone rushes to help. Jesse yells "Heimlich his ass!"

Keefe asks "Lick his what?" Of course he has misunderstood, but the line emphasizes the interest in backsides that he has displayed all season.

You never disappoint: As he evening ends, Amber and Jessie offer to give the Montgomery Boys a ride home, identifying them as friends.

Then we see three couples heading home.

First Baby Billy and Tiffany. They decide to stop on the way to have sex, followed by waffles.

Next, Kelvin and Keefe. Kelvin praises Keefe's sausage dip and fire dance, and gives him some loving glances. Keefe raises his phallic swords from their hilt, suggesting arousal, while the darkness surrounding them makes the scene very intimate. When Kelvin says "You never disappoint," it is nearly the equivalent to "I love you," as well as a precursor to what will happen in the next episode.

Then BJ and Judy hug while singing "Gonna have some hot sex tonight."

The couples are presented in parallel. Although Kelvin and Keefe don't mention sexual activities, they are bookended by couples who do, making it obvious that they, too, will be "having some hot sex tonight." The marital problems are over, for the time being. The end.

The full review, with nude photos and explicit sexual references, is on RG Beefcake and Boyfriends

#the righteous gemstones #kelvin gemstone #keefe chambers #tony cavalero #adam devine #bj barnes #Judy Gemstone #Chuck Montgomery #Robert Oberst #Balkans #Fire Dance

6 notes · View notes

semi-imaginary-place · 1 year ago

Text

ffxiv the loches to the end of 4.0

exploring the loches and fates its clear that ala mhigo has a very strong history of monarchy, stronger than what is shown for doma. a parallel is that both doma and ala mhigo are nationalistic and seek independence from garlemand, and they are both nations that are historically monarchies. doma rallies around the idea of a king, the king as a representation of a nation, and after a period without a monarch seeks to reinstate the monarchy. ala mhigo is also kingless but seems to be moving away from the idea of a king.

damn this man has been hiding out in the salt monastery, get him some food and water.

thanks for the convenient plot device to beat fordola urianger. i haven't seen you all expansion. speaking of people who haven't shown up what are the acsians up to didn't see them much in 3.0 either. ffxiv has had a long standing problem of juggling multiple plots the main ones set up in arr are the ascians light vs dark and the garleans global polimilitary conflict.

the salt lake is giant, it takes half the horizontal surface area of the map and there's an entire city down here

there's no way the player character knows how to operate garlean technology. this is sora at the computer.

the ala mhigan quarter has so many alleys. this map is useless. why does gyr abania have the special ishgardian black chocobos?

and now after 9 levels omega is back. uriange using us in his double blind experiments.

I think the writers forgot that limsa lomisa is a lalafellin name because they seem to be under the impression that its a seawolf city.

oooh they added yelling intot he background noises. nice touch

hien really did fly across a continent. ah on yolback. i was wondering why they didn't run into the same problems we faced going to doma in that moving an army across imperial controlled waters is going to spark a war. but if he only brought a few people that makes more sense. although i dont see any of the mol or xaela. when did yugiri get a yol. the doman forces might have been more effective drawing garleans forces to doma and away from ala mhigo. that door, it would have been so much easier just to unlock it but that would also have been much harder and riskier.

the story is obviously not going that way its just not how its written but raubahn could have been the new ala mhigo leader. conrad says that he wanted someone who has lived outside of garlean occupation and was more widely traveled than himself and raubhn fits the bill. politically speaking lyse is the family of two famous revolutionaries but raubahn is even more famous as the bull of ala mhigo and general of the immortal flames. he also has the proven battle and leadership record that lyse lacks. additionally here in the battle for ala mhigo he's made pipin lead general and is fighting not as a general but just as a soldier so he is willing to give up command and the flames would be fine without him. but on a personal level i see why it makes sense in character for him not to. now that illberd is dead his strongest ties are in ul'dah with nanamo and pipin. most importantly is that 4.0 isn't raubahn's story, its lyse's. She's the main character here and most things are written in service of her character arc instead of what would actually make sense.

I've said it earlier but I do really like how 4.0 centers the stories of women. I didn't even realized how bereft heavenward was of lead female characters until I got to 4.0 and it was the lyse, yugiri, and alisae show. basically until hien gets introduced on the azim steppe, lyse, yugiri, and alisae are the ones driving the plot they're the main characters and I do like that.

duty support for ala mhigo is interesting. you got tank arenvald, dps raubahn and lyse, and healer alphinaud so you cannot have everyone at once. of the 4 alphinaud is the least plot relavent but i refuse to play healer. not after it took me 5 attempts to clear battem's mettle. I may run this a couple times to see what dialogue I get.

my ilevel is so low i shoule not have run this as tank. wow the the dungeon end scene's really evolved used to be final fantasy victory music and then the pc jump excitedly and now its just a camera pan

jp zenos voice actor is doing a job. zenos usually sound soooo bored and now he's excited and deranged. did zenos just compare the wol to the primal he's trapped in a cage, illberd's primal.

localizations this time round have been pretty good. but i noticed this line is a bit different, i wasn't listening too closely but it was something like "I've never had so much fun".

zenos seems lonely. desperate for a connection and not accustomed to having one. also lol got him monologue-ing. he offers the hand of friend and wants to be rejected what a messed up little man. zenos has never had a friend. reminds me of those chronically online people with no friends but who are desperately lonely and they're doing these mental gymnastics and justifications for nothing. damn zenos is projecting HARD onto the player character. like pc is just standing there while zenos rants about how they must be the same.

wait wait did zenos just call the wol yuuitsu tomo like his one and only friend or the only friend for him. bruh you've never even had a full conversation with this person. ok wow a lot of lines are different I'm going to have to go look up the japanese version later.

zenos fused with a primal. how does that even work? probably more aether bs.

wow the game forces a sunset for this part of the game

seriously, last duty of 4.0 and not a single ascian this entire patch. devs really did give up on explaining why every boss fight is now on a platform in the void

see he's showing blood that's how you know he's scripted to die. suicide? edgy.

the price of freedom

THE FUCKING EYES ARE STILL THERE. and now the ascians show up after not seeing them since 3.x. what has y'shtola been doing since she was injured? uuuuuuugggg zenos said he used omega's power to trap shinryuu... so where's omega? the cidnero divorce saga continues! they were business associates

empires, occupation, communities diaspora

lyse is the main character. foil is hien. both monarchies kingship symbol of what doma lost.

zenos is under utilized his most interesting part is his final scene. but he also had to kill himself there because now that he has reached the meaning of his existence there was nothing left but the void again. miserable pathetic loser. having an existential crisis faced with the reality that his life his empty he continues to seek the only thing that can make him feel anything, the innate fear of death when he is on the brink of it.

#ffxiv #ffxiv 4.0

2 notes · View notes

lunasmusemenagerie · 4 months ago

Text

Name: Thorne Ashbury

Race: fae / cryptid (ozark howler)

Type: OC

Fc: brenton thwaites

Background:

Thorne grew up constantly moving around, his father and him modern day nomads. They settled in a smaller town in the Ozarks when he was younger, bouncing between going to school, and taking college courses as he was finding school work too easy. In the afternoons and evenings, he'd work with his father, learning everything he could about who and what they were, and what they did. He often would be sent to deliver potions and tonics that they'd made to others, the community accepting the 'herbalists' as masters of the land. In a way, they were, but his father was also a Warlock, drawing power both dark and light from the world around them. Well respected in his craft, and a bit feared. Thorne had started learning how to channel it, and, it kept him able to Stay in human form and not shift as much in times of stress.

A group of hunters / trappers moved into and close to town, planning hunting down the infamous howlers in the woods that was said to stalk the area when Thorne was 15, and would often stop by the herbalists place in the mountains. His father kept him away from them, as they seemed particularly interested. Something about them was always.... off to thorne, and he made no complaints in making deliveries around that time. He knew he was being followed, hunted. What he hadn't expected was to be cornered by these men. They grabbed him, held a knife to his throat and told him if he fought them, they'd kill him. He couldn't help the small shift in him, fangs and claws showing themselves breifly before holding himself back from full shifting. It was all they needed, and wicked grins spread on their faces. He's was taken back to the house at knifepoint, back to where his father was. The brought him in front of the Warlock, and demanded he shoe his true self, when he tried to reason with them Thorne felt the biting of the blade in his body, before he was restrained again and two of the men moved to touch him as if the planned on assaulting him . His screams and pleas were enough to trigger his father into a blind rage, changing forms to his howler form. He attacked the men, but they had expected it and despite his best efforts, was soon stabbed in the eye with a silver knife, driving into his skull, body falling in front of his son.

Thorne was then taken away, the trappers setting fire to Ashbury's home before they left. They gave him a serum to keep him sedated and in howler form, sold him to a collector of cryptids, where he'd be shown as a sideshow piece before being used for the collector's personal scientist team, to poke prod and study. At times, he was used for entertainment, being baited in front of the collectors dinner guests. He wasn't sure if someone took pity on him, or if they just forgot, but, he found himself having more ability to think, to move, to be more than a creature reacting out of pain and fear. He heard whispers, not from some physical entity, but from all around him. The ground, the air, the shadows. Something.... called to him by name.

Use it. Take it, let go.....

He felt it course through his veins, stengthening him, steading him with its powerful thrum. He was the son of the Warlock, this was his birthright. For the first time in a long time he was fully awake. He was awake and alive. When they came for him this time he was ready, using the power in him to boil the blood of his captors. He didn't remember much besides the feeling of power and strength and satisfaction as he tore through them all, before escaping out and away. When he finally came to, he was drenched in blood, the metallic taste deep in his mouth and throat.

Thorne kept more to the woods, making his way back to his home, only to find out what had been done. He'd been gone for years, the woods refusing to claim the home that stood there beforehand, and a small well looked after headstone. One of him and his father. Thorne struck out on his own, following in the steps of his father, or at least the early days of his father, he was both howler and Witch, the darkness on his side and still whispered to him.

He forged his own place, an apothecary /herbalist place for both human and creature to visit. He still wanders the woods, taking the lives of humans that disrespect the forests and the creatures that resides in them.

Notes:

Aged around 25-31. He is bisexual and panromantic, though male leaning. Thorne has enhanced healing abilities, enhanced strength, sense of smell, and hearing. he can also elongate his canines into fangs.

He is what I classify as a 'dark witch' and I'd not afraid (and sometimes does enjoy) killing, depending on who, he will enjoy making it hurt. Easy deaths are for those he respects.

On his cryptid form: It is typically described as being around the size of a bear, with a thick body, stocky legs, black shaggy hair, and having prominent horns. Most agree that it is either black or dark in color. Its cry is often described as being a combination of a wolf’s howl and an elk’s bugle, still half human like a cougars call would be.

#muse : thorne

1 note · View note

tehuti88-art · 10 months ago

Text

1/19/24: r/SketchDaily theme, "Free Draw Friday." This week's character from my anthro WWII storyline is Gunnery Sergeant Evans (first name never given). He appears early in the story and uses some unusual means to help the new battalion get off the ground. There'll be more about him later in my art Tumblr and Toyhou.se.

TUMBLR EDIT: I believe I shared a bit about Evans in Sgt. Irene Beaudry's entry. I don't know a lot about his background as he's only meant to appear in the first part of Genesis, chronologically the first part of the main story (though for some unexplained reason, it's presented second). Corporal Drake's role in the story has grown a bit more nuanced--he deals with various instances of passive (well...mostly) antisemitism (his very entry to the story is when the military truck Sergeant Camo is riding in forces his motorcycle off the road as a "joke")--so I imagine Evans playing more of a role in this fashion, as he secretly develops an attraction to Drake. He likely attempts to intervene yet is prevented from doing much by Drake himself, who insists that he just back off and let things be: "Speak up, and it only makes things worse," he snaps.

Evans, at a loss, decides to focus instead on helping get Camo's idea for the First Battalion off the ground. Almost nobody in a position to do anything is interested in doing so, not even when Drake presents circumstantial evidence of what the Nazi Party is actually up to, and it's a lot worse than they'd thought. The prevailing attitude is "Well, it's not our problem." Camo and Drake are near-opposites in their worldviews--Camo is the idealist hoping for the best, Drake is the realist preparing for the worst--so in an odd way they complement each other, and Evans realizes that the two of them working together is the best way to get things going. He attempts to act as a mediator, as the two do not get along well at first (Drake mistakenly believes Camo was involved in the incident with the military truck, when in fact he didn't fully understand what was happening at the time, and once he did find out he lambasted the driver for endangering everyone's lives); he also tries finding ways to convince higher-ups to greenlight the Trench Rats project.

I don't know if he or Camo is the one behind it, but a skilled surgeon, who later receives the codename Burgundy (I have yet to determine how the characters are referred to before they're recruited, so MAYBE they deal with these names before the battalion is even formed?--unsure), agrees to join the battalion only under the condition that he not be placed in a senior leadership position--a rather awkward condition, given that he's a second lieutenant, whereas Camo and Drake are a sergeant and corporal. (This was my attempt to retcon an explanation why a lieutenant would defer to people of lower ranks.) Evans may have a hand in convincing the famously inhospitable Burgundy to lend his services as part of a team.

He also approaches Sgt. Irene Beaudry to ask for her aid interceding with authorities; her position in all this isn't clear to me, but she's in a sort of assistant position, and can be very persuasive. She agrees to put forward Evans's case in the best light possible...if he'll come back to her place for the night. Evans finally hesitates and wonders if this trouble is worth it: He's in the closet, and isn't attracted to Beaudry at all. He also wonders if she plans to blackmail him if he refuses. So his reasons for going along likely aren't 100% altruistic, though his main motivation is helping out Drake, and he steels himself for the possibility of losing his job no matter what he does. He agrees to pass one night with Beaudry. Beaudry afterward holds up her end of the bargain and presents to her superiors Evans's argument for forming the battalion to send to Germany not only to rescue the captured American soldiers, but to spy on the Nazis; she also doesn't blackmail him. She may have a skeezy approach to sex, but is otherwise known to keep her word. Evans is squicked out by the entire experience but decides one especially uncomfortable night is worth helping Camo and Drake realize their goal.

Evans realizes he and Drake stand no chance being together. Throughout most of his part in the story, in fact, he's pretty sure Drake doesn't even like him. He accepts this, even though as time goes on Drake's icy demeanor thaws somewhat and there are subtle hints that Evans's feelings are cautiously reciprocated. The Trench Rats are formed and they get their order to ship out before anything can come of it. Before Drake leaves, however, Evans does summon up the nerve to abruptly kiss him; Drake is too surprised to do anything, though when Evans pulls away, they're both flustered, and not unpleasantly so. "Good luck," Evans blurts out, and "Thank you," Drake manages to say, and they part ways for the last time.

Obviously, Evans and Drake do not end up as a couple; Drake gets involved with French partisan Papillon while in Germany, and reunites with him following his captivity by the Nazis. He's badly traumatized by his experiences, but Papillon promises to stand by him no matter what and help however he can. Following the war, he invites Drake to return to France with him, and Drake accepts. In the United States, Evans is kept informed of what becomes of all the Trench Rats, including Drake, so he has no cause to wonder what happened to him; I imagine he feels rather wistful about what could have been, but wasn't. Just as before, however, he accepts this.

I haven't really explored Evans's post-war life, though I have reason to think he doesn't end up alone. A scenario started forming in my head of him briefly encountering another military person--possibly Navy--who offers him a friendly smile that makes him wonder; when they have reason to run into each other again, the other man's banter leads him to suspect he's interested in him. The only other time this happened was with Drake, and that never got the chance to go far, so Evans is really not good at figuring out how this works. When the sailor finally invites Evans to join him for a drink at a particular bar, that's about as clear a message as he can get, and he tentatively agrees. Upon arriving at the bar he notices there are no women there, only men, and that at last makes the situation crystal clear. He pushes down his nervousness and the two of them share drinks and have a long, pleasant talk. On the way out, the sailor kisses him, and it's nice, though Evans isn't really ready to do anything else just yet. He flushes and averts his eyes afterward, stumbling over an excuse to head home alone; the sailor smiles again and gives a soft laugh and says it's fine: "No hurry. We can go however slow you want."

Evans lets out his breath; it's amazing how just a few words can settle nerves. Still, "I think I'd like drinks again, sometime," he says, then manages to add, "And maybe we see where it goes from there." He briefly worries that he's doing it wrong, yet the other man merely smiles wider, and nods, and Evans feels pleasantly flustered just like all those years ago, after a different kiss.

[Evans 2024 [‎Friday, ‎January ‎19, ‎2024, ‏‎12:00:15 AM]]

#artists on tumblr #ibisPaint x #SketchDaily #original characters

0 notes

robboyblunder · 2 years ago

Photo

My 2022 summer commissions are finally here! I've updated my sheets with some newer examples and information! I'll be starting off with five slots, so if you're interested please feel free to inquire! :)

transcript under the cut!

(please don’t repost or use any imagery in my sheets, and leave my description; thanks! reblogs are super helpful!)

Start transcript:

Header: RobBoyBlunder commissions. To inquire, email me at [email protected] OR DM me on tumblr via robboyblunder.tumblr.com.

Sheet 1:

Prices in USD (darker color = base price, lighter color = added price for extra characters). More detail = higher cost.

Sketch: Bust is $10 (+$5 for added character), waist up is $15 (+$10 per added character), full body is $20 (+$15 per added character).

Line art: Bust is $15 (+$10 for added character), waist up is $25 (+$15 per added character), full body is $35 (+$25 per added character).

Flat color: Bust is $20 (+$15 for added character), waist up is $30 (+$20 per added character), full body is $40 (+$30 per added character).

Sheet 2:

Cell Shading (includes soft light): Bust is $30 (+$20 for added character), waist up is $40 (+$30 per added character), full body is $65 (+$45 per added character).

Full Color: Bust is $35 (+$25 for added character), waist up is $60 (+$45 per added character), full body is $85 (+$70 per added character).

Sheet 3: Backgrounds

Simple/transparent: Free.

Medium detail: $15-$30 (more detail = higher cost).

Rendered/Detailed: $40-$60+ (more detail = higher cost).

Sheet 4: Character design

Get a custom design from scratch; starts with base price that includes front & back full body with flat color. Extra can be added at higher cost (ex: bust, extra detail, etc.) More detail = higher cost.

Toon: base price of $40-$75.

Character: base price of $120-$150.

Complex: base price of $175-$200+.

Sheet 5: Rules and Minis.

Minis/toon (also available in chibi style): Simple is $20 (+$15 for added simple mini), Complex is $30 (+$25 for added complex mini).

Rules:

1. payment is required via invoicing

2. Payment is upfront unless discussed otherwise – no refunds for completed art, half refund for partially finished if cancelled (but please speak to me first)

3. Full references are required unless asking for design commissions – lack of reference will be priced as design commission otherwise

4. Respect me, have patience, don’t haggle prices!

5. More detail = higher price

6. Major/repeated changes will cost an additional charge

7. You can request only one commission at a time per person, but comm again after it’s done! (If you have questions, please ask!)

8. Will draw: Humans/humanoid, robots/cyborgs, complex armor, monsters/creatures, animals, furry/anthro, mild injury/blood/gore (feel free to ask on this!)

9. Will not draw: anything offensive/bigoted (racism, homophobia, transphobia, incest, pedophilia, etc.), NSFW, realistic/heavy gore, certain fandoms

10. I have a right to refuse any commissions!

end transcript.

#commissions #commission #commission sheet #commissions 2022 #commission 2022

169 notes · View notes

taekooktimeline · 2 years ago

Text

November 24, 2022

Hi everyone 👋🏾

I haven’t posted any reminders since about August, so I thought I’d just share a few friendly reminders, more so for new followers, while I’m thinking of them and have a moment:

I’ve said this before but it doesn’t hurt to reiterate. Please remember I do my best to be objective, but sometimes I like to voice my opinion. In that instance, I disclaim where I want to speculate. Clips are provided for you to draw your own conclusions. Taekook speak for themselves so letting their actions and words do the talking is very easy to do☺️I have a total blast chronologically archiving their beautiful bond over the years, sourced by fan cams and official videos. When there are opinions, or even controversies surrounding a moment, I add those for posterity as well. With time, moments get forgotten, or antis try to distort things (which is incredibly sad). I’m determined to do my best to archive Taekook interactions for preservation. Anything that delves into theory will always be disclaimed as such. I addressed this more deeply late 2021 but here’s the recap - https://at.tumblr.com/taekooktimeline/hello-in-light-of-some-comments-ive-come-across/te337t9us2jm

I only have one Twitter (kakostel) and I just set up a fan IG (KaylaTK9597). The IG page will probably collect dust since Twitter is still existing😆but feel free to follow and I’ll follow back.

Because I have a tendency to follow back, especially if it’s not a brand new account and we have moots in common, it should go without saying but I’m not responsible for opinions expressed by others. Everyone is entitled to their opinion on things. I refuse to police, nor do I care to. I also can’t possibly keep track of what all my moots are up to. The big reason why I’d break being mutuals is if someone is not equally supporting and respecting both Taehyung and Jungkook. That’s an absolute must to me. Otherwise, you do you and I’ll do me❣️

I’m NOT in DMs❌ This version of the timeline and my tweets speak for me. There’s nothing I need to say in private.

I’m equally Taehyung and Jungkook biased☺️

I’m here to support Taehyung and Jungkook - individually and together, in all the ways I can, to the best of my ability. I’ll never stop saying that the sky's the limit for them because it’s true, and I’ll forever be proud of these two. They’re beautiful humans inside and out and I have all the confidence that things will always work out for them in their favor.

I’ve done my best to make the platforms I use safe and positive spaces for me to support and love Taekook. My anxiety dictates firm boundaries and I’m determined to keep them. I’m not interested in anyone’s background noise, negativity or insecurity. All of that is irrelevant. I am here for Taehyung/ Jungkook / Taekook. I posted this on November 7 but think it’s good to share here -

For Twitter, this tends to mean I RT posts, with the occasional fun Taekook video edit when I have time to make it. I’m not as active as some in being vocal but, again, I think the blog and my video edits speak for me. I addressed this around August 2022 but here’s the recap - https://at.tumblr.com/taekooktimeline/hi-everyone-i-hope-youre-all-doing-well-i-feel/z1pmufm4scky

I think most who follow me know but I’m studying Japanese. It seems to help my mind when I get too anxious, though it’s a very hard language to learn (とてもむずかしいよ😭). Some pieces in the blog have Japanese translations I worked hard on. I’m quite proud of those because it shows my progress in my personal life, while also giving me a means to verify a Japanese subtitled Taekook interaction, or J ARMY sighting, without the need for translators (I still have so many years to go, though. I tend to panic when someone speaks the language and my mind goes blank. I’m at a third grade level with kanji which means I still tend to fall back on hiragana, which is a problem when kanji is pretty prevalent). Two links to posts I built around my studies -

Winter Package 2020: https://at.tumblr.com/taekooktimeline2020/end-of-november-december-2020/sf0hh6q335o1

February 2022 post related to spotting Taekook at Ahgassi Gopchang in LA: https://at.tumblr.com/taekooktimeline2022/taekooktimeline-february-19-2022-released/3q1uckm8yapo

I provided a Taekook Spotify playlist link in my mini update but here it is again. Please keep streaming and supporting them 💜

Taehyung’s “Christmas Tree” MV:

youtube

Jungkook’s “Dreamers” MV:

youtube

We’re getting into the holidays, which is my favorite time of the year. Please remember to prioritize yourself and your mental health, and set boundaries where they’re needed. Social media is quite draining and toxic so take breaks if you need them. I’ve been fortunate to meet a lot of ARMY in person, some I consider best friends. Please believe me when I say ARMY outside of SM is a massively stark contrast to the ugliness you see when there’s anonymity behind screens. Keep that in mind and try to ignore the noise of others. And remember that real life should always comes first💜

#taekook #taekooktimeline #2022 #asks #discussions #Youtube

42 notes · View notes

shingia · 4 years ago

Text

✗ HQ BOYS DOING YOUR MAKEUP

-> this random idea popped in my head recently and i thought it was pretty cute so here it is ( ͡❛ ‿ ͡❛)

-> general plot : basically, you broke your arm and need them to do your makeup for you

-> suna, akaashi, tsukishima, semi, bokuto, kenma

— SUNA

• he’s living his youtuber fantasy, let’s be honest here

• and by that i mean that he records every step of the process. he also does this thing where he shows the products to the camera with his hand behind to make the lens focus

• i’m pretty sure he would sit you up on the counter and make you wrap your legs around him to keep him close (bye i’m evaporating)

• getting your eyeliner right on the first try is a huge flex for him. getting it even on both eyes is an even bigger one

• and he brings this up every time you��re mad at him

• « ok yeah i forgot to make dinner. but that eyeliner from last week tho… »

• most definitely has a playlist playing in the background, and you get to choose the songs because you don’t have anything else to do

• he only realizes how much he enjoyed doing this after many hours, and he probably ends up asking you to do it again at like 1am or something

• and if you accept, watch him go above and beyond to do better than the last time, because this time he is committed

• even if he knows you’re not going anywhere btw, he doesn’t really care he just wants to take a few pictures of you before you take it off and go to bed

• (he made her promise not to say anything but he definitely asked his sister for advice just because he wanted to impress you)

• oh and, he puts too much lip gloss on purpose, because he obviously has a good idea to take half of it off :)

— AKAASHI

• obviously he immediately accepts - with your arm in a cast, you could ask him anything and he’d do it in the blink of an eye

• he insists on watching a youtube tutorial because he’s not confident enough to do it without any guidance, and he follows it diligently from a to z

• he’s probably the slowest of all but that’s just because he’s scared of messing up

• and also because he thinks you look really pretty when your face is so relaxed, he can’t help but give it a few kisses every now and then

• after every stroke of the brush, he takes a step back just to make sure that it still looks good - and it does

• he also starts humming at some point, and he would be very pleasantly surprised if you started humming with him

• he refuses to use the eyelash curler because he thinks it’s absolutely terrifying (i have to agree with him)

• however, he asks a lot of questions about the rest of the products because he’s genuinely interested and wants to learn new things

• but tbh i don’t think he would be completely clueless, for him the basics of makeup is just general knowledge

• he also keeps a few samples of your products in his bag in case you need to do touch-ups during the day

• also he cleans the brushes when he’s done <33 what a king

• and he definitely offers to do your hair afterwards since he knows you’re struggling with it too

— TSUKISHIMA

• « not doing that, no way. ask someone else » is his first reaction. but it’s just because he knows he’s going to be terrible at it

• but he accepts after a few minutes of negotiation (because he wants you to stop whining)

• so you drag him to your bedroom and sit between his legs by the window to have a better light ; honestly, it’s ideal work conditions

• surprisingly enough, he does a very good job with eyeshadow. which means that his confidence is now through the roof

• but it all goes back down in a second when he gets started on the eyeliner

• he tries to avoid this step by telling you that you would look much better without - but you really really want to see him try, so he has no choice but to give it a chance

• it looks awful

• he gets it right after his fifth try tho, but your eyes are very irritated

• because he put so much effort into this eyeliner wing, he spends the rest of the day making sure that you won’t rub your eyes and ruin his work

• although he will never admit it, he thinks it’s actually a pretty fun thing to do and he wouldn’t mind doing it again

• but he would rather do it on a day where you don’t have anything planned, because he could start making out with you without hearing that « we don’t have time for that »

— SEMI

• oh it’s definitely not the first time, he’s already pretty experimented

• which means that you don’t have to check on everything that he does, just let him do his thing and you won’t be disappointed

• he probably asks you to show him your outfit so that he can do a makeup with matching colors <3

• there’s one thing that drives him absolutely crazy, and it’s dark red lipstick. so brace yourself because he will put it on you no matter what

• oh and, remember that tongue thing he does before his serves ? yeah well he does that when he’s applying the lipstick as well

• i think he would eventually want to try bolder makeup looks, and if you’re too shy to wear them outside, he would !hype!you!up! until you change your mind

• if i’m being honest : your makeup has probably never looked this good

• it’s pretty frequent that he ends up putting on some eyeliner on himself, and he wears tf out of it

• since he can get pretty protective, he’s usually not a big fan of other people praising you. but he won’t mind if someone ever compliments your makeup

• but what semi loves more than makeup itself is that he gets to take a very good look at your face from every possible angle

• and he loves to discover new things about you, like a hidden mole next to your ear or a dimple under your lips for example

• honestly he knows your face so well that he could probably draw a realistic portrait of you without looking at any reference picture

— BOKUTO

• really really excited about it, and also honored to know that you trust him enough to do that !

• so get ready to spend the next thirty minutes sat on the bathroom floor surrounded by literally every product you own, because bokuto is very curious about a lot of things

• he is so frustrated to see all the different eyeshadow colors and not getting to use them all

• so he’ll probably ask to do your makeup another time just because he’s really intrigued by ‘this sparkly purple shade’

• he’s also very interested in touching all the different textures of your products, so he tries them all on the back of his hand (which looks like a mess by the end)

• he has a hard time finding the angle he’s most comfortable with so he probably moves a lot

• one second he’s sat in front of you, the next he’s behind your back and tilting your face up

• i think he would definitely squish your cheeks with one hand while putting lipstick on with the other

• he also needs constant approval on his work so he keeps a mirror within reach and waits for you to confirm that it looks good every now and then

• you might have to lie to him on his first tries tho, because he’s definitely not a natural (but that’s ok, he’ll get better)

• however, he is always proud of his work and shows you off 10x more than usual for the rest of the day

• and he gets really sad when you take it off in the evening (cue sad puppy eyes)

— KENMA

• if kenma’s going to do your makeup, he’s going to do it right

• both sat on your bed, he’s holding your head still with one hand on your cheek. and don’t you dare sneeze, smile or breath too loud : he needs to focus

• he is so concentrated that he even sticks the tip of his tongue out, and he has a frown on his face the whole time, like a painter working on a million-dollar canvas

• especially for mascara, he’s so scared to poke you in the eye that he requires absolute immobility

• and yes, he will get mad at you if you start to laugh or move too much, i mean come on he’s trying to do serious work here!

• but he just looks really cute when he’s so focused <3 you can’t help it

• however, he goes back to being his laid-back self as soon as he’s done. and he spends a lot of time staring at you for the rest of the day because he’s lowkey proud of the result

• also, don’t let him do your makeup in his bedroom, because the light coming from his setup is probably terrible - so you’ll have to drag him out i’m sorry

• he might lay you down on the couch and straddle you so that he can rest his elbows when he leans forward to reach your face

• oh and : seeing you wear « his » makeup and his clothes simultaneously drives him absolutely crazy

@toworuu @catwithangerissues

716 notes · View notes

tiramisiyu · 3 years ago

Text

Thoughts on Xia Yan’s Anniversary/Kiss Date

Not a translation, but rather an unleashing of the many thoughts I had for his date because it made me feel so many emotions and think so many things;;

Wordcount: 2.8k

Date Translation

Preamble

Tears of Themis’ 1st anniversary features one of the most significant in-story events you can view within an otome game - the confession event between MC and respective male leads. The gravity of this confession event, however, is intensified with respect to the ML Xia Yan, as their emotions towards each other is not the only focus of said confession - he must also reveal the heartbreaking truth that his life is likely to end in three years.

In the below sections, I will discuss the significance of various components that comprise Xia Yan’s anniversary date. My primary focuses will be on Xia Yan’s internal struggles, his care for MC, and the nature of the confession, and I aim to ultimately express why this date had such a major effect on me and whoa if you’re still reading this rambling part, I applaud you. I’m really just doing a fancy thoughtdump here.

The Nature of the Confession Event

From the beginning, XY never intended for the confession to be full of pomp and circumstance - and this was out of concern for MC, fearing that she would be too swept up in emotion to make it. Based on how the other guys’ cards look (them being outside and MC’s all dressed up), I assume that there was some ceremony-like aspect to their respective confessions, and I think that this draws a stark contrast to XY’s (who staunchly refused Yang Xiao’s offer to help make his confession just as ceremonial). In XY’s, MC’s not dressed up the way she is for the others, and both have been drenched in rain and are dissolving into tears of sadness as they speak. In addition, their desires are conflicting (rather than a situation where both parties confess and get together, and thus have coinciding interests) - despite what XY has said before, he does not want MC to be with him, while MC wants the exact opposite. It’s not a beautiful or gorgeous scene by design - instead, it’s very raw, very 狼狈 as the two lay bare their own painful emotions, discuss/cry about heavy topics, and show very vulnerable sides to each other, trying to get through to the other person.

Speaking of showing vulnerability, the fact that Xia Yan is so anguished by what he has to say that he has to sit down and cry hits particularly hard because he has always, always tried to put on a strong face in front of MC. Whenever his illness strikes and MC sees it, such as in aquarium date or Neruda poem date, he’ll smile and/or joke about it after. When the two were talking about his posthumous letters during the RRG date, he still had a calm smile on his face. Even when he talked about being shoved into a car trunk to be “disposed of”, he was still calmly smiling. As MC noted, his job has taught him to have extreme control over his emotions, so it’s almost overwhelming, trying to imagine how much sadness pushed him to that point.

Pathetic fallacy also plays a part in increasing the impact that the confession event had. In the days leading up to the last part of the date, storms keep striking suddenly, such that it’s even described as “strange”. Storms are, of course, generally associated with less-pleasant things, such as conflict, anger, depression, difficulty, and so on. The meaning behind why they appeared suddenly or frequently is a little harder to understand, but my assumption for the frequency of the storms (rather than an ongoing storm or gloom) reflects how things could not completely “clear up” (despite uplifts in emotion from time to time) until they confronted each other with their feelings. During the confrontation, not only is the storm still going on, but they’re also harshly drenched in the cold rainwater. It is only after the kiss, after their interests finally coincide, that the storm lifts and the beautiful starry sky casts its light on Xia Yan, who was holding the majority of the conflict/sadness/depression between the two of them. (This is also highlighted in how MC notes that Xia Yan feels slightly cold (during the kiss), and she tries to transfer her warmth over to him, trying to alleviate that heavy emotion that’s wrapped itself around him.)

The Location

The attic of their old home remains an important location for these two, and I pretty much can’t think of a better choice to set the confession. It contains their childhood memories, and it also came into play during Xia Yan’s first birthday after his return (i.e. the idea of continuing to make memories there). It’s also interesting to note that Xia Yan, from his rational mindset, did not intend to see MC… yet he still came to this place - a place that was equally meaningful to both of them, and a place where he’s likely to get lost in emotion. He may be restraining his emotions for MC’s good, yet they still show in small places. (At least, there doesn’t seem to be any logical reason for him to be there, since he wasn’t setting anything up there…)

The Humanizing and Internal Conflict of Xia Yan

I call it “humanizing” because I’ve done some commenting before on how Xia Yan has felt a little superhuman - so many skills everywhere, and rarely a moment of weakness. Now, this date really drives home that he is just human too, with the harsh reality of imminent death hanging over him (especially since we also learn a few more concrete details on exactly what his illness is). This point is brought into attention when he talks about how he’s neither able to be as brave as Schumann (who acted based on emotion) nor as silently strong as Brahms (who acted based on reason). He’s pulled in so many directions for all the things he wants - a desire to stay by MC’s side and do so much with her, whether as family or as something more, versus his rational mindset that tells him to not see her at all, to disappear from her life after, or to push her away even after her confession. There was also his “rationally” created plan in which he would give her the letter and let her decide, yet he still tries to convince her to not be with him.

The Schumann/Brahms comparison shows how he keeps getting pulled back and forth between reason and emotion. He reveals his feelings to MC (Schumann), but wants her to make the optimal decision, which he believes is to not be with him (Brahms). He then kisses her after hearing her conviction (Schumann) and then gives her the gift that’s linked to Brahms. In realizing that he’s not able to stick to either path, he calls himself a coward - but he doesn’t need to be like either person. As MC says, his restraint is a part of his own background, and his emotional wavering is because of his care for MC - all in all, his motivations are because he is Xia Yan, not Schumann or Brahms.

Personal Story Chapter 2 Parallels

In Xia Yan’s personal chapter 2, Yang Xiao sets up the story of 零/Zero and 玛丽薇莎/Marivisa to mirror MC and Xia Yan (respectively). The mention of what will bring Zero and MC happiness is starkly similar in these two situations:

⊳ Personal Ch.2-9

Xia Yan: 因为...这样，零会更幸福... 她不是在牺牲，她只是用自己的方式让零能幸福。Because this way, Zero would be happier… She wasn’t sacrificing herself. She was only using her own methods to make Zero happy.

MC: 但零的幸福就是她啊。But Zero’s happiness is her.

Xia Yan: 她已经无法给零幸福了。 It’s already impossible for her to give Zero happiness.

⊳ Date

Xia Yan: 如果你选择别的男人。。。只要他能给你幸福。我只会带给你不幸，我没有时间了。。。If you choose another man… As long as he can make you happy. All I can bring you is unhappiness. I don’t have much time left…

MC: 你怎么可能带给我不幸，你怎么可能做不到给我幸福。你在我身边，你的存在本身，就是我的幸福。How is it possible that you can only bring me unhappiness? How is it impossible for you to bring me happiness? You being by my side – your very existence – is my happiness.

Yes, the Zero/Marivisa story was intentionally made to parallel these two, so it might feel moot to compare them like this. However, I still really appreciated that they brought this discussion of what brings MC/Zero happiness back, especially since XY’s chapter 2 was very major in developing his character. Back then, MC is vehement in that Zero would have been happier spending all the time he could with Marivisa, as well as even having the choice to spend that time with her. I think that this part was instrumental in Xia Yan eventually deciding to tell her the truth and letting her make her own decision (as he explicitly stated to Yang Xiao in part 1 of the date). However, he still wasn’t fully convinced by what MC said back in chapter 2, so we satisfyingly see this discussion of happiness come full circle by the end of this date, when Xia Yan finally trusts MC to make the best decision for herself.

Xia Yan’s Considerateness

Xia Yan’s enduring consideration for MC displays itself in nearly every single action within this date.

The flashback, when he thinks about MC potentially having to go through what the widow is now experiencing, and how his own happiness for three years isn’t worth that

His conviction to give her the right to decide in this matter that involves both of them, because he can’t be the one to decide everything

He insisted on not making it a romantic event, because he wants MC to make the best decision without having a mind clouded by emotion. He’s also made peace with the idea of not being with MC, for the sake of her long-term happiness. All he wants is for her to know the truth of his feelings and illness.

His decision to still make MC a gift to retain some aspect of the romance in the confession (but he only gives the gift after MC has made her decision, again to ensure that her mind isn’t clouded). I think the concept of the gift is particularly beautiful - the little, happy holograms of them inside the glass, as if ensuring that he will always be by her side in some way; the music that brings back their childhood memories and alludes to an enduring, quiet, and protecting love that puts the recipient first (i.e. Brahms to Clara); and the rainbow, which has its childhood memories and treasure implications that are already mentioned in the date, but it also reminded me of the miraculous double rainbow in his Lost Gold date. That double rainbow was the trigger for Xia Yan to proactively seek out a future with MC, when he took the initiative to ask MC if she could be with him to seek out more miracles. Overall, there are a lot of beautiful memories and implications wrapped up in that music box/snowglobe.

The little comical segment where he worries about the optimal time to deliver the letter, worrying about MC’s sleep or if she’ll be able to eat well.

His stress over what he should’ve done after the letter was delivered, and how he immediately answered MC’s call out of pure worry, despite being so resolute about not answering her calls that he’d turned on airplane mode before.

Their ensuing discussion in part 3 is just full of Xia Yan’s consideration for MC at its peak -

Rather than being ecstatic about MC’s confession, his first instinct is to tell her to take a few days to think about it logically. (But really, emotions aren’t logical to begin with, so it’s not like MC would’ve stopped liking you after mulling it over for a few days, haha)

His immediate apology after yelling that he has to mention his death

His worry about how MC will cope after he’s gone, going so far as to saying that she would be better off with another man

I think that this particular (above) line got a particularly visceral reaction from Xia Yan fans, including myself. Because like MC, our initial thoughts fell along the lines of “How could I ever choose someone else when the only person I like is you? There’s just no way someone else could make me happier…”. Another reaction that I’ve seen among Xia Yan fans (yep, including myself) is how we originally viewed the story in third-person, seeing “MC” in the story, but this date (and this particular scene, where MC says nearly everything that I myself would want to say) dragged us into a first-person position.

The heartbreaking scene where Xia Yan cries from being unable to give MC the happiness that he wants to give her (or so he thinks).

He’s just so painfully selfless. I also really like the line during the kiss where MC tries to transmit her warmth to him, trying to balance things out between them and have him feel better, when he had already written himself off by thinking that his happiness is better off sacrificed for hers.

Jin Xian’s Voice Acting

Jin Xian’s voice acting deserves a whole section to itself, because I think that he did an amazing job of portraying the intense emotions Xia Yan feels during the date. Just going to list some lines that really hit hard - both because of the content, and because of the voice acting that really considered how Xia Yan would be feeling then.

我可以去追她，我甚至可以和她结婚。我可以把最后的三年过得很好，过的毫无遗憾，但是然后呢？她一个人要怎么办。。。谁陪她走出来，谁来照顾她。。。(“I could pursue her. I could even marry her. I could live my last three years happily, without the slightest of regrets. But what about after? How will she cope on her own… Who will be with her as she handles this? Who will take care of her…”) The ups and downs of this section’s voicing really hit hard.

The gentleness with which he speaks about what he plans to tell MC, especially the line 她从来都是这样 (“She’s always been like that.”)

He’s so cute in Part 2!! The tone’s a lot happier and relaxed and it’s really nice to see and hear.

In part 3, the vehemence with which he talks about how the risks of MC’s work aren’t comparable to his established time limit, which then softens into something sadder when he talks about how Yang Xiao’s efforts haven’t extended his time by much.

The intensity when he says 我必须说 ! (“I have to say it!”) (when MC reacts to him using the word “death”), and how he immediately softens his tone after. But then his voice starts to rise again as he worries for how MC will bear his death… and then he takes a break to calm down, and then makes the suggestion of MC finding another man with a near-inflectionless tone that gradually slips into a whisper

His whispering voice makes the impact of 我在乎。。。！(I care…!) hit even harder because it’s suddenly loud, and you can clearly hear the tears in his voice. Once again, he takes a breath to calm himself down and quiet his voice. But even as he keeps talking in a voice that descends into a whisper again, you can tell that he’s still on the verge of crying…

Also the 我也。。。好喜欢，最喜欢你. (I also… like you. I like you the most) line left me screaming with how it was whispered but really strong and adamant-sounding aaaaa

Anyways I could list more but at that point I might as well list Jin Xian’s entire script lmao. He did such a good job!!!!!!

Sound Effects

I’m laughing at myself for including this section - if you turn off the music that accompanies Xia Yan’s card, you’ll… hear some very interesting sound effects [狗头]

They’ve got to make the most of their limited time together, after all, and this is the only date out of the set of four that’s indoors… it makes sense…

Other Thoughts

Two kisses!!

What sort of treatment would leave Xia Yan infected with drugs with prohibited components? What were they even trying to do?

The date was short relative to the other, super-long Themis dates, but I’m personally alright with that because it places focus on the confession itself. It hit all the points that I personally was expecting for Xia Yan’s confession, including his past struggles with the idea of staying with MC, his confession about both his feelings and his illness, and how resolute MC is about staying with him vs. how hard he tries to get her to understand the implications of being him, considering that he doesn’t have much time left.

I think now’s a good time for the two of them to get married if they’re well aware that Xia Yan’s time is limited, so Xia Yan, where’s the ruby ring?

I wonder what implications this will have on the main story - e.g. will the rest of NXX find out about Xia Yan’s illness in Chapter 7.2? Or will they never know? Actually, I wonder if they’ll have MC be aware of his illness in the main story because… that implies his confession happened, which might anger fans of the other boys.

Conclusion

I love Xia Yan and I love this date.

#tears of themis #xia yan #luke pearce #rambles #this whole thing is kinda messy so kudos if you made it through

102 notes · View notes

sailorhyunjinz · 4 years ago

Text

~ ℙ𝕦𝕣𝕡𝕝𝕖 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕀𝕀 ~

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: SMUT! Dom!Minho x sub!reader criminal!skz, gang!au, angst(?), criminality, mentions of scars, mentions of blood, mentions of injuries, explicit language, mentions of robbery, mentions of police, mentions of cuts, alcohol consumption, mentions of fights, public sex, PIV, fingering, unsafe sex (STAY SAFE), orgasm (m/f), cum, slight bulge kink, squint to see the degradation.

PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS SINCE THIS PIECE CONTAINS VIOLENCE!

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 2.6 k

ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖: EEEEP part 2 of purple hearts that is more of a background story to the first one so if you haven’t read the first one please do so here!~ (also jesus fucking christ did i struggle with this sooo... don’t expect much lmao)

OH if you want a song recommendation; A good song never dies - Saint Motel (fits this fic heheh...)

A loud bang erupted through the room alerting the 7 other boys. Bangchan’s fist was firmly planted on the table as he looked at the shoked faces off the seven boys.

“We can’t go on like this anymore”

He spoke in a raspy voice, his breath quivering as the other boys avoided eye contact with both Bangchan and between themselves.

“Did you see what happened out there?!” Felix flinched at Chan’s loud shout as Changbin smirked, spinning in the office chair and staring at the ceiling.

“It’s not that serious, Chan! Just a couple bruises tha-” Changbin started speaking but was soon cut off.

“Nonsense!” Chan growled out. “All of this because that son of a bitch won’t get a job, we included you because you were a detective. You were useful once, Minho”.

The entire room glanced over at Minho. His cheek scarred, a droplet of blood desended down from his knuckles as he swept his hair back with one hand.

“Not my fault, you wanted me to plan the different robbing schemes so how the fuck can I work, huh? Ever though about that?” He spat on the floor as his gaze was locked with Bangchan’s. The leader getting visibly annoyed by Minho’s tone.

“Calm down everybody” Seungmin said, carefully nudging at the curtain infront of the window and looking down at the blue and red lights that was flashing all over town. “Continue like this and we’ll all be dead meat for the police”.

Hyunjin was sitting across from Changbin, only the big white table seperating them as a lonely lightbulb hanged in the middle.

“I agree with Chan, Minho used to help by getting access to information only the detectives had but now... well, he’s not doing much” he scratched the back of his neck while talking.

Minho was aggrivated by his words, ready to lunge at anyone that dared to open their mouth about how he wasnt helpful after he’d been fired from his job as a detective.

“I-I’m gonna find a job, not like you fuckers sitting here and living off others pain”. He tried to defend himself but only earned a scoff from Felix.

“Please,,, don’t try to judge us when you’re in it yourself” Felix remarked snarkily, sitting on the cold stone flooring. A first aid kit was laid out infront of him as he treated a big wound on his forearm, wrapping bandage over the cut and hissing as the material stinged against the raw wound.

“I’ll find my ways, don’t worry” he devilishly smirks, many of the boys sighing and rolling their eyes. All except one. Bangchan. His blood was boiling. Did Minho not see how the whole groups future was hanging on by a thin red thread? The red representing how much blood has been shed by these boys in order to survive in this vile world.

Silence filled the room, only the faint sound of police sirens could be heard from outside. Minho clenched his jaw, looking around at the silent boys before grabbing his coat from the wobbly coathanger and exiting the mobs headquarter, shutting the door loud enough to startle both Jeongin and Jisung. Confused glances were exchanged while Bangchan just stood at the end of the table, staring out into the dark night.

---

The nightlife was well and alive in the big city. Music blaring, people chattering and cars humming. The neon lights were all around him as well as the vast crowds of people enjoying the night. Minho walked into a bar that was a couple of blocks away from where he and the boys had been moments earlier, robbing a jewely store and beating up the owners until puddles of blood formed around them. Most of the times it was easy but today the police were a step ahead and bad planning by Bangchan almost led to the boys in handcuffs. Luckily, all eight managed to escape, leaving the bodies and the spray painted SKZ mob logo on the old fashioned walls of the jewerly store.

The bar reeked of alcohol as the lights were low, only a couple of silhouette visible. Unsteady bar chairs decorated the dim bar along with a wall of fancy liquor bottles and as Minho sat down he looked down at the bar table before croaking out;

“One boulevardier“

He licked his lips as he looked cockily at the bartender that quickly nodded, intimidated by the wound on his cheek. Minho rubbed the back of his neck whilst comtemplating his life choices. Graduated with a law degree, once being a well respected detective but what was he worth now? He was just a dirty criminal, ruining lives in order to survive. The drink was placed infront of him, a coaster on the bottom of the wide glas as the drink condensed, forming beeds of liquid on the rim. Just as he lifted the glas to his chapped lips you tapped him on the shoulder.

“Excuse me”

You stood behind his hunched figure and met his gaze as he turned around, drink in hand. You show your detective badge before speaking.

“y/n, y/l/n. Happened to see any commotion here tonight, sir?

He scoffs which makes you confused as you look him straight into his cold brown eyes.

“Detective? At least you got to keep your job”

Minho turns back and you stand there, wondering if he’s drunk or just refusing to cooperate.

“Sir, I asked you if you’d seen anything that could lead us to the SKZ mob? I’m pretty sure you know who they are. You know, the ones that makes the entire city shake of fear.”

“Sure, I know of them.” He smirked with his answer.

He patted the empty bar chair next to him, signaling for you to sit which caught you off guard. You were hesitant since he didn’t look like the friendliest type but you nodded, slowly sitting down next to him.

“Look, I might even surprise you about how much I know” he remarked, steadily raising the glas to his dry lips.

“Is that so? How do you know so much?” you asked, geniunly interested in him and that scar on his cheek.

“Former detective” he stated simply.

Your eyebrows jerked at his words. ‘Former detective?’ you thought, losing his job must have been hard on him judging from his scruffy appearence and by the way he waved his finger at the bartender, ordering another drink.

“Then why did you lose your job?” Curiosity was going to be the death of you.

“Aren’t you asking too many questions, baby?”

Who was he calling baby? The two of you had met minutes ago but something in the way his voice rang through that word caused shivers to descend down your spine.

“I’m a detective, that my job and you should know that” you replied sassily, not knowing what to do with the butterflies in your stomach upon hearing him call you baby.

“I could help you but it comes with a cost.”

He moved his hand in a circular motion, swirling the liquor as the floating ice cubes bumped against eachother, the sound being completely masked by the distinct chattering of other guests.

“Well,,, what do you want me to do?” You looked at him as he stared straight ahead, his silvery earring swaying as he turned his head towards you, grinning.

“A job and you.”

His deep brown eyes seemed to draw you in but you had to resist, you were on a patrolling shift after all.

“I’m s-sorry,,, This is not appropriate behaviour” you say as you try to get up before being abruptly pulled back by your wrist, the purple heart on your bracelet reflecting in the minimally lit bar.

“I know damn well that there is a promotion looming in the air” he said, not breaking eye contact with the bracelet on your arm. He was right. If he had valuable information it could change your career, make you climb higher in the ladder of success and peer down at all your co-workers that were once laughing at your lack of skills.

“H-how’d you know?” you said, flustered at his big hand that was still tightly gripping your wrist. He flashed his devilish grin before yanking you by the arm, dragging you to the bathroom.

“W-wait,,, what are you-”

Pushing the door to the bathroom open, he slammed you against a cubical as he crashed his lips onto yours. Luckily the bathroom was empty leaving Minho without any hesitation to fuck you so hard that you’d be longing for more, fuck you so that you’d be left with no other choice but to hire him. You melted in his touch and as much as you knew how wrong this was something about his mysterious aura had you answering his kiss, pursing your lips and slipping your tongue inside of him. The kiss quickly got heated, sparks flying as his fingertips lightly nudged on the band of your jeans. Minho tilted his head, cupping your warm soft cheek with his brittle and bloody hands as you moaned into the kiss, adrenaline rushing through you at the thought of getting caught at any moment.

Minho pulled you into a cubical, your bracelet jingling from the sudden movement. Locking the door, he put his hand by the side of your head and towered over you making you feel helpless. You needed him inside of you.

“Deal?” he leaned over to your ear, his hot breath tickled your ear and all you could do was nod as you desperatly clenched around nothing.

You reattached your lips on his, the bitter taste of liquor spreading in your mouth as your tongues fought for dominance. Minho stroked your hair until his hand slowly moved to peel off your shirt, exposing your bra strap. His touch on your bare shoulder made you shudder and your core quivering in anticipation, feeling a wet patch on your underwear. His hand unbuttoned your pants causing you to gulp loudly, holding the back of his neck to deepen the kiss. Without warning his cold fingertips slid down beneath your panties, grazing your sopping folds and feeling himself get painfully hard, not wanting to admit the effect you had on him.

“Already this wet, babygirl?”

He broke the kiss, looking at your pained expression as he inserted a finger into your dripping pussy. Your eyes tightly shut as your hands wrapped around his arm, needing something to hold on to before your trembling legs gave up on you. You quickly stripped yourself from your pants and underwear, the fabric pooling around your feet and touching the surprisingly clean bathroom tiles.

“Needy I see” he scoffed, inserting a second finger and sending you over the moon with pleasure, your hands still wrapped around his wrist.

“s-shut up, you m-made me like this” you stutter back at him, trying to impose some sort of dominance but Minho only swiped his tongue across his bottom lip, looking at you with hungry dark eyes. A broken moan escaped your lips that glistened from saliva, Minho curled his fingers upwards, grazing your g-spot with every move. Before another strained moan managed to escape your lips he retracted his fingers, lapping off your juices from his long fingers with a mischievous look in his eyes.

“Turn around”

His cold voice pierced your eardrums and as if you’d been hexed you complied, your body moving to his command. Your hot cheek pressed up against the cubical door as Minho’s body was dangerously close to yours, his clothed bulge rubbing against your bare ass. The sound of his belt unbuckling echoed as you pressed your ass up against his bulge, desperate for his cock.

In a swift motion both his pants and underwear dropped down to the floor, his erect veiny member springing out, the tip shining with precum. He pumped his length a couple of times before rubbing the tip against your dripping heat making you mewl out in suspense, the burning feeling in your core growing stronger. Minho alined himself with your entrance, slowly pushing in the tip to which you hissed, a momentary sting hitting your senses. He teased you by dragging his fingertips across your buttcheeks and up your spine, goosebumps erupting.

Not being able to control yourself you pushed your butt out making you sink deeper on his length, earning a groan from the dark haired boy.

“Desperate much?” he cooed from behind you.

Your hands formed into fists as they held you body up from the door.

“F-fuck,,, hurry, I’m still on my shift you know?” you spat out at him, your legs shaking from how his dick stretched out your tight walls.

“Whatever you say”

He laced his fingers through your hair, grabbing a fistful before turning his hand and yanking you towards him, your back arching as his hips slam against yours causing your butt to jiggle. You choked on your own moan as Minho’s hand tightly held you by the roots.

The movement repeated and got harder by each thrust causing you to bite your lip in order to stop from screaming out in pleasure. Heat rose to your cheeks as your eyes rolled back into your skull, stray pieces of hair landing infront of your hair. Sweat beaded on Minho’s forehead, his groans getting louder as he neared his sweet release.

“S-so tight,,, fuck.” He spoke haltingly, hating the fact that you made him weak. In order to hold on for longer you clenched around him not knowing that he’d grunt loudly.

“Now you’re c-clenching around me like a little whore?”

A string of moans ensued from your delicate lips upon hearing his new nickname to you. How did he know that you liked it? You could only nod, your speech all slurred from the impact of his dick burrowing deep into your cervix. The knot in your stomach tightened, your head dazed as Minho’s thrusts became uneven, the grip on your hair tightening. Not feeling your legs any longer the knot unraveled, your body shivering from the orgasm that washed upon you, your juices coating Minho’s dick that was still pounding into you at an immense speed.

“A-aah,,,s-shit!” you screamed out as he rushed after his own orgasm, overstimulating you in the meantime. Tears prickled in the corners of your watery eyes as Minho’s last moan echoed in the room, the moan being high in pitch. He pulled out of you leaving your cunt dripping as he pumped his length a couple of times, throwing his head back before his white cum spurted onto your butt, feeling the warm substance drip down your leg. The two of you panted, chest heaving as your forehead made contact with the door, legs weak.

In your peripheral vision you see the boy stretching out a paper towel, his chest heaving as he wiped off the small sweat beads with the back of his hand. You shake your head in order to come back to earth before taking the paper towel from his hand, muttering a small “thank you”.

“So what you say, babygirl?” His dick turning flaccid before pulling up his pants, looking at you wonderingly. You wipe off the cum and discard the paper in a small waste bin before you reach down to grab your panties and pants, pulling them briskly up. You reach for your back pocket, holding out a business card between your pointer and long finger with one hand, the other hand messing with your hair, making it look presentable.

“Call me on Monday” you say before stumbling out of the cubical, leaving the grinning boy behind you.

199 notes · View notes

huebris808 · 3 years ago

Text

Dr. Hofnarr’s Horrible, No-Good, Very Weird 15 Years Of Being Dead.

a tribute to fanon interpretations/character study(?) that was going to be a bonus chapter in a post-canon/au comedy fic im working on! might come back to expand on this when i do start posting it (or if mpn gives him more background story lore that i’ll have to work with aoAHGHOAUGH)

happy madness day! :o)

“Where should I begin… Perhaps at the very beginning? OH! Christoff and I first met years before our Nexus days! Back in our freshman years of college, to be precise! You know, I was actually a theater major before switching to- ... A-Aah, too far back. Much too far... Let’s start from the point where the notes I supplied to you ended then, shall we? After our dissension...”

.. “Good luck, old friend...” ..

The first years on the run from Nexus was stressful to say the least. Hofnarr and Christoff had split up to better their chances of survival. He knew the process would be grueling, having talked to Christoff almost every night about it to calm his nerves. While he played calm for the cameras, Hofnarr truly wished he could have held him close one last time. No communications. No physical contact. Day after day, month after month, nothing. He would be separated from his husband for a very long time…

It wasn’t all bad after a while. He had a comfortable new apartment, went under a new alias, and his questionable new job paid him enough to buy food. His apartment even had cable! He could watch marathons of Slaughter Time whenever he got home! In hindsight, he wondered if that had an effect on his mental state at the time...

Hofnarr had taken the last of his S3LF regulator with him, having shipped them out to an undisclosed location prior to dissension. Dissonance exposure did a number on him and his research team, leaving them to track their “normality” through daily blood tests and injections. While they met their fates early on, Hofnarr had gotten lucky. That is, until the doses began to run out.

Stressful as it was, he knew what he had to do. Hofnarr rushed back to what remained of the labs, knowing it had been abandoned by now. It was ironic, he and Christoff’s work, the work that was turned against them, was the one thing keeping him alive. For days, he worked to make more doses from the materials he brought with him. But there was only so much he could do with limited supplies… Hofnarr made many attempts to prolong the inevitable, lowering his dosage amount, injecting it weekly rather than daily, but he eventually ran dry.

Refusing to turn to darker alternatives, he felt the only thing he could do at this point is record his final findings through video logs.

“It was… interesting revisiting the footage, to put it nicely. Christoff had actually kept the video files on a drive after he originally found all my things in the lab! I barely remembered what happened back then, so I rewatched them out of curiosity.”

On the first night, Hofnarr recorded a message for Christoff. One filled with sorrow, but also with gratitude. For the time that they spent together. How special he made him feel. All the memories they made together...

On the next, he recorded a log detailing his findings during Project Nexus. The effects of dissonance, the Other Place, what it did to him and his colleagues, everything and anything he could.

The next, he reported on the progression of his symptoms. Fever, brain fog, insomnia, joint pain. He felt like his organs were melting, his skin bursting at the seams.

The next night he saw something and remembered. Scars. The scars on his head. That week he was in the staff hospital. He thought it was a dream but the scars were there. Phobos. Director Phobos brought him somewhere that week. He knew he felt off when he woke up in the office that night. He knew something was off when Christoff asked him where he was. He thought he passed out from over-working. That bastard Phobos. Nausea was replaced with rage as he began to scream, his throat becoming raw. What did he put in him? What the hell did he put inside him!?

On the last recorded log, he was face-down on the ground. Groaning as his body occasionally convulsed. Until the video feed eventually cut off.

His body would lay there dormant, dead, for fifteen years.

But to Hofnarr, he felt like he was dreaming.

.. “LET’S GIVE IT UP FOR OUR NEXT CONTESTANT!” ..

“Huh?” The doctor sat up and looked around, the area around him pitch black. Wasn’t he sleeping just a moment ago? He got up and took a step forward in the seemingly endless void. “H-Hello? Who’s out there?”

“AWW, DON’T BE SHY NOW! ESTEEMED AUDIENCE, A BIG ROUND OF APPLAUSE FOR OUR GUEST; THE UNFORTUNATE DOCTOR HOFNARR!”

A light shined down on him from above. A crowd seemingly began to cheer all around him. He was in the center of what looked like a talk show set. Hofnarr awkwardly scratched the corner of his face. “‘Unfortunate’? W-What do you mean? W-Who are you?”

“FIGHT FIRST, ASK QUESTIONS LATER!” The voice above him called out again. “AFTER ALL, IT’S…!” Hofnarr drowned out the noise while trying to think. It sounded familiar. Like it came from…

Hofnarr’s thoughts were cut short. He looked down at his torso. Terror set in as he recognized an entire stop sign had been lodged through his chest.

“DON’T GET COLD FEET NOW! THE SHOW’S ONLY JUST BEGUN!”

The words echoed in Hofnarr’s mind as he frantically tried to pull it out, his vision growing muddled, his hands slipping with blood until…

He blinked.

No stage. No sound. No pain.

Nothing around except for a single white door in front of him.

He stood up again, cautiously reaching for the doorknob.

When he entered he seemed to be in a vintage styled home. It was a kitchen with checkerboard flooring, a table with two chairs, and cheerful music playing through a small radio. It smelled of pastry and medical equipment. Suddenly, there was a knock coming from the door. A familiar voice called from behind it.

“I’m home, dear.” “J-Jeb?!”

Hofnarr rushed towards the front door. Christoff wasn’t trapped here too, was he? “Jeb! W-where are we!? What is this place? What happened to-”

As he opened the door, the clapping returned.

His husband was there, briefcase in hand, his face replaced with a black hole dripping with an unknown inky substance.

He slowly began to back away as “Jeb” moved closer.

The applause, the laughter, was deafening.

Before he could question or run away, Hofnarr was hit by something. His vision blurred, but refocused to be face-to-face with something. It seemed to be a shadow of himself. He tried to run again, but was pinned down by his doppelganger. The clone raised a clawed hand above him and then...

Like waking from a nightmare, Hofnarr quickly sat up once again. He gasped for air, dripping with cold sweat.

Was this really happening? Was it finally over? Was he free?

And then the spotlight focused on him again.

“It… got very surreal. Despite fight after fight, death after painful death... I would suddenly be somewhere else! There was a gameshow, our old apartment, a cat cafe, a... strip club of sorts, a tea room filled with these small armless doodles I used to draw on my research notes trying to offer me snacks… One time there was a sort of singing contest, but I won’t bore you with the details of that one. But when I wasn’t in those places, I felt like I was fighting for my life. It felt like an eternity! And the strangest part of it all? It… it became addicting.”

At first, he felt as if Hofnarr used all of his energy, physical and emotional, to fight back. It reminded him too much of his escape from Nexus. But as time went on, he focused less on escaping and more on surviving. The more he fought, the more he began to lose himself. He was anticipating what sudden whiplash of combat would be thrown at him next. He chuckled at the thought of what excitement would be heading his way. He wanted more. The fights became too slow. Too predictable. Too boring. He began toying with whatever was thrown at him. Turning his shadowy hunters into the hunted. Why let his audience watch the same old fights all the time?

Suddenly, the fighting stopped.

Why?

He was having fun, wasn’t he? He grew impatient.

“WHAT’S THE HOLD UP!” He yelled into the void, seething with anger. “AREN’T WE SUPPOSED TO BE FIGHTING? ISN’T THAT WHAT I’M HERE FOR?!”

He stomped his foot down, lodging something out of the ground.

The stop sign.

He looked over it curiously. How familiar…

Grabbing hold of it, quick flashes of memories appeared to him.

Nexus, the Science Tower, Phobos, the Other Place…

A man with long hair standing next to...

Hofnarr…

Who was that? Was that him?

No…

Only Tricky remained.

Footsteps echoed throughout the halls of the abandoned lab. Heels quickly clicking, cautiously stopping every so often. A lone Nexus Core agent entered through one of the doors.

Perfect timing.

“HAY! YOU THERE!!” A voice stuttered and glitched out, reverberating through the emptiness of the lab. The quickly soldier whipped their head around. “YEAH! YOU, STUPID. PLAY WITH ME!!”

“Who’s there?” The agent pointed their magnum towards the noise. “Show yourself!”

Gladly. The cackling figure emerged from the shadows, posing with a peace-sign, causing the agent to recoil. He grinned, slowly moving towards the cowering goon on the ground. They wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Who are you!?”

They couldn’t kill him.

“FIGHT FIRST. ASK QUESTIONS LATER! AFTER ALL…”

CAN’T KILL CLOWN.

��IT’S MURDER TIME!”

“My body had been there, regenerating and repeating the enmeshment process for years. And by the time I woke up, I was a completely different person. I became a creature of unfiltered impulse… A personification of chaos itself.”

The room grew silent before Hofnarr spoke up again.

“I-Is it horrible to say it was… kind of cool?” He said with a nervous chuckle, twiddling his fingers.

2BDamned was quiet for a moment. They recalled the many times they had to stitch their comrades back together due to Clown Moments. They placed their head in their palms and let out a sigh.

“... You have the right to your own opinion.”

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

BONUS: songs i was listening to on loop while working on this instead of doing my damned writing assignment. Enjoy

lady gaga ft. dorian electra - replay

vestik - tricky's vengeance ft. monocronic

#madness combat #Madness Project Nexus #Dr. Hofnarr #Tricky the Clown #MY WORKS #MY FIC #happy madness day these old dudes are gay. [Vine Boom] gay as hell. [Vine B

34 notes · View notes