#dance workshops near me

[katerinaaqu]

Ismarus! Ismarus! (P2)

The second part Of my story! Continuation from Part 1 and kinda a late birthday gift for @h0bg0blin-meat Sorry I was late! As always the inspiration came from discussing complicated stories with my dear friend @artsofmetamoor

There wasn’t much to disrupt the silence of Ismarus and maybe that was why the tension was thick enough to be cut with a knife. It had been several hours since the moment they had refused to assist the Greeks out and now they seemed rather nervous. True they seemed like sailors and tired from a long trip but they were always veterans from Troy, a city that wasn’t taken before since Heracles and the look on that short man seemed alarming. It was as if he was much more than what met the eye. Something about him had been disturbing to the embassy. It seemed that his eyes had caused more than just a mere slaughter of a large city. The guards at the walls were always on the edge of their wits waiting.

“There is no sign of them anywhere” one of them said to the other in their dialect, “Maybe they got the message and left”

“Perhaps…”

The sound of leaves hustling was enough to make them jump. They didn’t know what was about to happen but they could feel it down their spines; all the way to the hairs in their napes that were now standing up in their worry. They were generally peaceful people. Their skills in battle were enough to keep invaders away from their area. And yet now that small person from another kingdom arrived there with a threat roaming over their heads like Apollo’s judgment.

“Did you hear that?”

“What?”

“There!” The guard pointed at some bushes, “The sound came from there!”

As his partner gazed over the walls to see at the spring leaves of the thick bushes and failing to see anything suspicious; maybe except the fact that the bushes were a bit closer than what he remembered! Where his eyes playing tricks on him or…?

“Go back and report!” he urged, “There is a high chance they-…”

His voice was cut of when the whistle of an arrow and the terrifying sound of metal cutting through flesh chocked the words down his chest and a shaft went through his tender neck. He collapsed chocking in his own blood.

“WE’RE UNDER ATTACK!” The other man yelled, “SOUND THE ALARM!”

No sooner had the words escaped his own lips and another arrow hit him to the shoulder, making him lose his footing and falling out of the walls inside the city’s perimeter. And then a storm of arrows fell from the skies. The Greeks jumped from behind the bushes and dozens of cords were pulled at the same time, singing like deadly birds.

“FIRE!” Odysseus ordered, voice roaring above them all

Flintstones cracked almost at the same time, sparks coming out of the friction and lighting arrowheads covered with cloth, sending a flaming rain upon the walls where the confused guards didn’t have the time even to gear up before hay next to them set aflame or their own clothes and hair setting on fire. Odysseus watched as flames and smoke rose.

“Give me that!” he ordered his squire grabbing the bow and the flaming arrow

Like a hunter who skillfully aims for the moving deer across the forest, Odysseus of Ithaca aimed and shot and the arrow pierced right through the wooden gate. He grasped upon a sling and span it, before throwing the material at the door. The small perfume bottle at the end of it which was now filled with a mixture of wine and oil, broke against the gate, sending wild flames to dance like Kaveiroi; Hephestus’s demonic helpers by the heath of his workshop. A smirk played at the corner of his lips as he watched the flames spark and consume the wood of the gate. His mind traveled back to their plans once more.

“How are we going to hit them?” Eurylochus asked, “They will throw stuff on us from the wall!”

“We shan’t get anywhere near the walls, Eurylochus” Odysseus replied in confidence

He took a branch and drew some circles at about shooting range of the city.

“We shall use vegetation as our cover. We will release the arrows like a storm before they have the time to shoot us. I believe we have plenty of hunting bows and arrows”

“Yeah” Eurylochus agreed, “At least a hundred bows and respective arrows”

“Good! We can use oil and wine as our assistance”

“Assistance for what?” Polites now asked

Odysseus eyed him. His eyes already sharp like the obsidian glass that is being forged under the merciless flames coming straight from the core of the earth.

“Fire, of course, Polites! We shall burn them down before they have the chance to aim! They will be waiting. They will be tensed! But if the plan works, we shall lose no men today!”

The defendants finally released some counter-attack, sending their own rain of arrows at them.

“DEFEEEENCE!” Odysseus roared

The shields rose over their heads, taking in dozens of arrows. One or two that got through and nicked a shoulder or a foot, caused some pained yelps. Odysseus didn’t have the luxury to look back. He prayed, though with all his heart that they would be fit to fight later.  So far so good, the Much Cunning man thought. He raised his arm in the air closing his fist. Eurylochus saw the signal and blew a hunting horn. It was a long, monotone note but it pierced the air even above the screaming of the men at the lines of shooting. And it only took a couple of seconds before some more fire smoke emerged, this time from the other way of the city. The heads turned towards that direction. Odysseus this time almost grinned. Yes, according to plan!

“The spies reported a tunnel for the waterfront at the back, here!” Odysseus said pointing his stick at the other part of the square that represented the city on the sand

“What are you planning to do with it? Send people inside?”

“I could, but it is risky. The path is small and it can fit one man at a time without armor and I shall not send unarmored men in enemy territory. No, my plan is quite simple, really”

He placed his stick to the part of the front gate again.

“I and the main team shall launch the attack here. If the plan works they will be too distracted. While they are occupied with us, a small team shall run as fast as the wind can carry them to the passage…and on the signal they shall start a fire”

The men at the back passage were already lighting more intense flames at the hay and dry grass they had hastily gathered. As the team of watchmen arrived at the spot before they could launch a counter-attack they were taken down by the last small team of archers, lurking behind the main task force that started the arson.

Odysseus made a move with his fingers, cross-way, opening his fingers in opposite directions with suggestive meaning.

“Distraction, division…Disorientation!” he said self-complacently, triumphantly

His eyes scanned his generals as they seemed to be literally hanging from his every word.

“Derange!” the king of the Cephallinians added

Back at the present, Odysseus placed the helm better on top of his head. The red and blue plume adorning the top of his boar-tusk helmet, waved gracefully at the breeze. His hand clasped the leather stripes tighter.

“Wait! Wait for them to open the gates!”

His nerves were at the peak; his senses seemed to be heightened. Like an experienced hound seeing the stag drinking water from the waterfront and already feeling to its teeth the taste of warm blood and flesh; legs and paws ready for the deadly sprint, Odysseus was feeling every tiny muscle in his arms pulsating in anticipation. He knew he had but one chance. He couldn’t afford striking before the exact proper time!

“I still fail to see how you will get is in the city, Odysseus” Eurylochus pointed out, “You say we bombard the walls but how shall we get in?”

Odysseus took a gulp of wine, his lips almost curling in a cat-like expression.

“They will let us in, Eurylochus!”

“They will?!”

“They will have no choice. They have fire to their front, fire to their back and they know they have better chances to face us at the open field. They shall open the gates for us and when they do, we shall be ready!”

He placed his cup at the side and played a bit with a small piece of skin coming out of the base of his fingernail. He thought for a second before looking at his second in command.

“Do you think my chariot can be used?”

“It is damaged” Eurylochus admitted, “But I suppose we can fix it for a battle real quick”

“Good” Odysseus said biting that piece of skin apprehensively, “Because it is an important part of my plan. I shall need it and two of my strongest horses. I shall lead the attack inside”

“Odysseus, no!” one of the generals protested, “You must not take reckless decisions!”

“If I don’t, no one will” Odysseus retorted, “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I will have you for cover. Send the order to fix my chariot!”

“Yes, sire!”

“The rest of you shall take position as agreed. If it works we shall charge through their defenses before their cavalry charges”

Horses were already plowing the sand with their hooves, as if their master’s nervousness and eagerness was being transferred to them. And Odysseus endured this bloodlust of battle that was making him restless, until he saw the gates opening slowly and he knew he had his chance!

“CHAAAAAAAAAARGE!” he ordered

His squire stirred the horses the exact moment the door opened and his chariot sped forward. The horses neighed and the sand rose in clouds as the squire forced the animals to drive the vehicle through the gates just on time for a couple of horses with their riders to come out. Odysseus raised his sword and cut one man right across the shoulder; blade cutting flesh and connections through the bones, blood oozing out of the wound as the rider fell to the ground. The second had no better luck for his hand was cut off from the base of his wrist and his horse’s legs crushed against the wheels of the war chariot. The animal screeched pitifully and fell onto the sand, taking the already wounded rider with him to the next world. The king of Ithaca drove the chariot triumphantly into the city, forcing his squire to turn the horses, facing the opponents arriving at the same time; one hand holding the leather stripes of the side and one holding a sword or a bronze spear. The army of his men coming behind him sprinting like ants attacking an enemy colony. The screams of the residents who didn’t have the time to evacuate sounded like a hellish music to their ears. The clanging of metal against metal and pained screams of the wounded was deafening. Blood splattered in every direction as the Cicones of Ismarus realized too late they had fallen into the trap of the Greek soldiers; soldiers molded, baked and hardened at war; men who now felt all the same battle lust and thirst for blood as they had when they invaded the city of Ilium, the holy ground of Troy, once more under the command and because of the plan of this very same man! This man that was now on top of his chariot, clearing the path for them, looking almost like god Ares himself who leads the troops of gods through the battle; his bronze and leather armor shining under the sun, the boar tusks in his helmet stained with blood and dust and yet showing the wild nature of war right there before their eyes; naked sword and spear at hand, bow and arrows waiting; Odysseus seemed at home. This familiarity of slaughter and war was the only thing they knew for almost a decade. For Odysseus too; the calmness of his childhood, the hunting parties in the forest, the quiet life among the quiet herding of the sheep and the goats in the plain; the change of season and the harvest of crops…all seemed forgotten. It was insignificant before this thrill of battle and conquest!

“Yes! Burn it down! Show the punishment of Zeus upon those who refuse his law!”

His eyes looked around. His men running around the city carrying torches and bronze. Fires were being set hither thither, screams were heard as helpless women and children were running out of their burning houses, coughing the sulphous smoke, some of them had covered their children with blankets, some were leading elders outside. They didn’t get to go far for many of them were grabbed by the hair by the bloodthirsty and now completely lost in battle soldiers and dragged out towards some other spot, crying or screaming, trying to hold onto whatever precious they had in hand; property or children.

“EURYLOCHUS!” Odysseus called his second in command closer, “Take the reins! Take over!”

He jumped out of his chariot rushing to assist some soldiers on foot.

“FIND THE KING! SIEZE THE CASTLE!” continued his orders on the way

His obsidian eyes scanned the massacre; men falling in the already bloody sand, women and children crying and running helplessly. One or two dragged behind corners. He had no idea what would happen beyond his optical field.

“No! No women and children! I said you shall not harm women and children!”

He slashed once more, feeling the blood splattering his already blood, painted face.

“MURDERER!”

And he slashed again…

“MONSTER!”

And again…everything almost seemed slowed down around him… It was as if his own breath was maximized to his ears…the neighing of horses and cries of the wounded… Some bloody lock of hair had escaped his helm and was resting against his brow, making the hairs almost touch his eye. It was bothering him…

“MONSTER! MONSTER! MONSTER!”

His breath hissing at the back of his throat; sweat running down his face, burning his eyes and salting his lips, transferring the metallic scent of blood alongside dust. His eyes seemed to be changing the scenery; it was night again; the streets were cobbled and not just covered in golden sand and dust; women and children were not tattooed or have their locks free running about but wore good veils and long skirts; women and children crying on top of their husbands or screaming at corners as soldiers would have their way with them in their lust for battle and thrill. He blinked repeatedly to bring the current image to his head instead. No, he wouldn’t think about Troy! Not now! However, was that image so different, really? He mechanically closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of dust and blood and fire. Suddenly all sounds were blocked; only the whistling in his ears was echoing and some distant cries coming straight out of the haunting past.

“NOOOO!”

“WE’RE UNDER ATTACK!”

“ODYSSEUS! YOU SPAWN OF THIEVES AND RAGGED SCHEMER!”

“ODYSSEUS! Odysseus…”

“ODYSSEUS!”

He gasped as the familiar voice of Polites reached his ears and just on time for his senses to heighten once again and blocking just on time a Ciconian sword a few inches away from his face. His counter attack was as quick as the man had his throat gushed from side to side, revealing the tendons and vocal chords. He choked on his own blood and fell. Odysseus needed a second to calm his heart.

“Thanks” he said to Polites half-heartedly

His eyes looked up at the top of the walls to see a man running accompanied by two others. He had seen that man before! He was with the embassy that met them. So this man was their king after all! His lips formed a smirk. He spat the bitter taste of blood and sand off his mouth.

“Cover me, Polites!” he ordered running up the stairs

His feet were getting almost sinking in the bloody sand as he ran upstairs. The arrows that whistled by his side were music to his ears as one of the king’s guards fell. The other bravely charged towards Odysseus but his sword was deflected. Odysseus pulled the man by the arm and threw him down the stairs. As he approached the top, breathing heavily, the man eyed him with his brown eyes and pulled his own sword. Odysseus moved his head a bit as if he was approving the man’s persistence. And then he charged. The two swords clang with each other. He was strong, Odysseus noticed, and fierce in his attacks. He gathered the sword and attacked again and then again, to be met with a counter attack. His opponent nicked his arm. He hissed.

“Shit!”

The attack came again but this time he was ready. Like two lions ready to tear each other apart over the best part of a carcass, the two kings were fighting for the price of the city and its treasures. Odysseus span once more, hitting the man’s stomach with his elbow. The stunned king turned back and chocked as he tried to counter his next attack. He also earned himself a gush to his arm.

“Surrender!” Odysseus demanded

The man spat something in his dialect, eyeing Odysseus with this kind of look that if it were lightning, Odysseus would have been stricken dead by now.

“I suppose this means ‘never’!” he smirked

He attacked again and again. The man was exhausted even if he was at least five years younger. Odysseus knew he wouldn’t go forever. His own muscles suffering from a day’s battle and from the light scratches he took upon during the battle.

“No! I shall not die here! This is not my destiny! My home is waiting! Not here! Not like this!”

He kicked the sand under his feet; some went to his opponent’s face. In that moment he stroke with his sword, piercing the flesh of his opponent’s stomach. Unfortunately for him it wasn’t deep enough. The man stepped back, holding his wounded stomach. He looked around, the destruction of his city that seemed to be already falling even if the day was not even over yet. He looked again at his opponent who so simply had managed to take his Ismarus with just a handful of men. He knew he was dying. He had realized his city was lost now.

“Who…are…you…?” he gasped

Odysseus rushed forward, like a wolf towards the wounded doe that was now making her last stand. His sword met the last weak resistance from his opponent. Fast like a cat he removed the small knife he kept in his armband and with one swift move he sank it to the side of his opponent’s neck. The king of the Cicones chocked as his own blood filled his mouth and lungs. He twitched and tried desperately to breathe. Odysseus leaned to his ear.

“I am Odysseus of Ithaca, son of Laërtes, the conqueror of the holy city of Troy!”

The man’s eyes widened in horror and realization as the shadow of death was already giving them a glassy appearance.

“The…S-Sacker…of…Cities…” he finally rasped out

And then the shadow of death passed over his face as he collapsed and never moved again. Odysseus sighed towards the heavens. The day was coming to an end; the sun was getting lost towards the horizon. He heard cries of triumph coming from down below. He looked down and saw that the city was taken over. The few men that were left alive, they were forced to throw their weapons; women and children were being led out towards the central square.

“Yet another city…fell in less than one night… Gods, it is so easy…feels so natural… Gods…war is inside me! The cries of all I destroyed are crying inside my head! The Sacker of Cities… Athena…patroness of war and wisdom, Pallas Athena… Why was this seed planted inside me…? Why me…?”

He ran his hand over his face, smearing some of the blood still on it. He looked down as the cries of triumph had increased now. He could hear them now form a rhythm once more…

“ALL HEIL FOR ODYSSEUS!”

“HOORAY!”

“SACKER OF CITIES!”

“SACKER OF CITIES!”

Odysseus closed his eyes and leaned back up towards the heavens. His sword fell from his hand and the knife that had taken the life of his opponent was long forgotten.

Sacker of Cities! Sacker of Cities! Sacker of Cities! Sacker of Cities! Sacker of Cities!

*

He inspected the area. The fires were still burning around but they were under control. At least no one seemed to be seriously hurt apart from some minor injuries and cuts that were taken care of very soon. His own minor cuts were barely of need of bandage. He felt exhausted and he wasn’t sure the battle was at fault. However he tried his best not to let anything show. Him feeling sorry for himself wouldn’t change a thing and in the end of the day they had chosen this. In a way they felt like they had to although he knew it was more the call for war inside them rather than the hunger in their bellies, which was a reason enough and yet…

“Odysseus! Look!”

The tired king followed the sound of Eurylochus’s voice as he led him to the granary. It was forcefully opened with axes and swords and revealed the treasure inside; grain, wine, dried meats and many, many more they could use for their trip just like as they had predicted. There were also cattle that were led to the square to be included to their sacrifices or offerings or prices and quite a few sheep and goats too.

“Look at all this food! We’re saved! By gods you did it!”

“Yeah…” Odysseus said absentmindedly

“And so many riches! Look!” Polites added, showing him some pieces of metal, weapons and jewelry, “This city was loaded with goods!”

Odysseus forced a small smile to his lips.

“Bring them all out” he ordered, “They shall be placed in the lottery to be shared with everyone. Foods and drinks shall be loaded to the ships”

“Do you want to choose, first?”

Odysseus stopped. He felt like he was re-living the conversation back at Troy when he was asked to take the pick of the spoils. Strange how often he was getting that question!

“No, Polites” he said, “We shall all take our share fair and square. That is the will of Zeus’s justice…”

Back at the square the few remaining men were tied up with secure ropes and brought kneeling before their conquerors. Odysseus walked over them, counting.

“Are they all that are left?” he asked

“We believe so”

“You…believe so?” Odysseus echoed, suddenly eyes darkening, “You mean you are not certain?”

“There was a huge battle, Odysseus! You cannot expect us to know for sure if anyone escaped or not…”

He had to admit that his general was right. But this scenario was possibly what he feared all along.

“And this was no battle…it was a slaughter! Just like Troy…”

Although he had to admit at least the Cicones were given the chance to fight back. It wasn’t like they attacked at night while everyone slept, right? Right? He eyed at the men who glared daggers at him.

“Kill them” he ordered calmly

The voice he made was so calm he was surprised. He hardly batted an eye when his men slashed the throats of the surviving warriors and watched the light of life escaping from their eyes; their last breath drawn out of their lips.

“How easily do men die! How easy it seems to plunder cities and yet…plunder and steal lives is even easier… Cursed war! Cursed Troy! You made a monster out of us all! This was not supposed to be our fate! We didn’t deserve this!”

The sound of begging came to his ears. And he heard the common Greek. That drew his attention as his men were dragging a man dressed in luxurious robes. There was no doubt on his identity. His face turned pale.

“UNHAND THIS MAN!” he roared the order, “This man is a priest! He shall not be touched!”

His men got alarmed by his voice and let the man go. The man seemed frightened. His beard splattered with blood and dust. His robes seemed tattered and half-torn. He was obviously dragged out of the temple violently. Odysseus felt his blood boil! He hoped his battle lust men hadn’t done so when the man sought sanctuary. That would be the end of them! He ran to help the priest stand. His hair was a rare copper sheen. His long curly beard was of even brighter color still. His eyes had the sheen of hazel. He seemed no over than 40 years of age. Maybe younger.

“Are you alright?” Odysseus asked

“Thank you…” the priest mumbled, standing back to his feet, “I am fine”

“You speak our language”

“Yes” the priest spoke, “I had the honor of being taught by my teachers when I was an acolyte to the grace of the Silver Shafted!”

“Rest assured, your safety is guaranteed. No one shall touch you while I am in command! Who are you? What is your name? What is your line?”

“I am called Maron, my lord. Euanthes is the name of the man who claims my heritage. I have the honor of claiming both the Greek and the Thracian blood and language inside me”

“Maron of noble birth” Odysseus said officially, “You have my word that you shall be guaranteed your life. Flee Ismarus while you can. Forgive me for the destruction we caused. Trust me though your lords and masters had it coming. We arrived at their doors seeking hospitality and they refused. This blood shall fall on them”

He was lying to himself and he knew it. Perhaps part of him believed what he said. However not all of it. The lust for blood he felt before was no coincidence.

“I beg of you, my lord, can my family also go through? I have a wife, sons and daughters! Please be merciful and allow them also flee! In the name of Apollo I beseech you!”

Odysseus smiled reassuringly.

“You have my word” he promised, “Rest assured. Take all your kin and everything you can carry and go. No one shall harm you. No one shall take a single hair of your heads while you do so”

Maron, son of Euanthes bowed before the king of Ithaca and grabbed his blood-painted hand. He brought it to his lips and kissed it. Odysseus shivered. Such gratefulness coming from a man who had the chance to save his life and his family!

“He kisses the hand of the man who killed his masters! Just like king Priam kissed the hand of the man who killed his son! Is there hope then? For our souls in Hades? Or maybe we are doomed like Achilles who fell by the arrow of the weakest man in Troy?”

“Blessed you be, my lord!” Maron whispered, “May Apollo guide you with his light! May he grand you health and wisdom!”

Odysseus drew his hand back. Part of him wanted to scream for this man to realize whom he had before him; the butcher of Troy! The man who chose to fight by trickery and chose to take the holy city in one night.

“Enough, my friend…enough…” he whispered, “Just go…you are free”

“Please…let me give you a gift for your mercy, my lord…”

He dragged the astounded king by the arm, like a child taking his father to see his achievement. Maron led him to the temple that still smoked. His family was gathering everything they could. Maron took him to the cellar and presented him with a large sealed vase.

“Please accept this godly wine from me, my lord” Maron said, “It is a blessed, black-red sweet beverage for you and your kin. But be careful, for it is very special. One cup of this, needs to be watered at least 20 times before it is drinkable. Never forget it!”

Odysseus smiled once more. Such a valuable gift! Maron was being extremely generous with them. Somehow this kindness and response to mercy reminded him the small peace of mind he got when Menelaus gave him some praise despite the fact that the city of Troy was cussing his name to the grave. He caressed the large ceramic and then turned to the priest.

“I am beyond grateful for your gesture” he said, “I shall accept your godly gift and I shall heed your words to my heart, I promise”

Maron nodded. He then took his veil, covered his face and then took his family, placed them all to their cart and slowly left the city. Odysseus had made sure no one would be getting in their way. He watched the priest go. He knew he would never see him again. And yet his heart felt a bit lighter. At least some part of him was still human…

***

A very VERY special thanks to my commenters from my previous part @cjbolan @dionysism @freetyphoonfire @tumblingghosts @theyugiohfanartistwritersblog

So this is the actual attack of Ismarus! Hahaha! Sorry if my descriptions are all over the place here! You see I wasn't sure what kind of tecnique Odysseus might use since he doesn't claim he gets any sort of loss during the charge. So yup! Here's me trying to imagine how an "Odysseus style plunder" might look like! Hahaha!

The inserting flashbacks was a thing inspired heavily from movies such as "The A Team"

The part of where you read "Odysseus you spawn of theives..." etc was of course a wink to my fanfiction Guilt Part 2 The part where Odysseus speaks about his heart feeling lighter and remembering Menelaus was also a wink to my fanfiction's third part Guilt Part 3

The cries of "Murderer" and "monster" were actually a wink to a fic I haven't read yet and to give you a light spoiler is again a hint to the cries of Hecuba mourning for the loss of her children, Polyxena in particular.

The knife in his armband was a wink to my tiny story Philoctetes Inspirations 2

Once more inspired by music by Kostas Kapnisis this time the one called "Μάχη" ("Battle")

as well as the main theme of the movie aka the titles sequence music:

I loved the heroic theme being inserted by tragic music and some violent drums. Seems so fitting for this!

Originally I wanted to finish this second part with Odysseus warning his men on leaving immediately and sharing the spoils but I thought it would be more impactful to finish it at the mercy shown upon Maron and his family instead.

I will certainly write a 3rd part for this and I am not sure if I will need a Part 4 too! Hahaha! I will need to see how big part 3 will become.

As before I wanna thank a few accounts that honored me before with insights comments reblogs and ideas (again terribly sorry if I forget anyone!)

@loco-bird @smokey07 @adrift-in-thyme @superkooku @marieisnothere12 @dilutedh2so4 @ditoob @tunguszka20 @ilov3b00kss0much @fangirlofallthefanthings @cr4zy-cycl0n3 @shafeeyaart @hermesmoly @insomniphic @blueflipflops @venomspecs @styberusartz @freetyphoonglitter @simugeuge

[songmingisthighs]

Lonely Breeze

group : ateez

pairing : poly!yungi × reader

genre : angst, hurt/comfort

wc : 3.1 k

tw : angst, poly relationship, heavy stuff maybe; relationship issues, psychological issues, mentions of blood (injury), mentions of anxiety, ngl I'm just rambling at this point so if this is not your thing, pls skip lol.

a/n : this is why i don't listen to anything produced by mingi. I'm textbook kubler-ross every single time and idk how to feel about it. and yea i wrote this in 2 hours

buy me coffee ?

It had been three days since you ran away.

Can it be counted as running away? You're a full-grown adult with intact mental faculties and 'running away' sounds rather juvenile.

Life had gotten too hard and you were overwhelmed. Despite having wonderful boyfriends like Yunho and Mingi, this time you truly didn't know what to do but you knew that you had to get out of there before you completely exploded.

To be honest, Yunho and Mingi were one of the reasons you had to run away.

It was nothing against them per se but you felt bad for having to always rely on them all the time.

The three of you met on the cusp of adulthood, at a dance academy workshop. The three of you didn't mean to join that joint workshop because each of you was from different area branches of the academy but you all just clicked. From then, you and they planned your lives together even down to which university you three will attend. But it wasn't until nearing the senior year that you three decided to pursue a romantic relationship. You still remembered it like it was yesterday. How you, Mingi, and Yunho join your other friends on a countryside trip to celebrate the end of the 6th semester only to find out that the cabin was at maxed capacity so you three had to rent a small, dusty place on your own. Little did you know, you, Yunho and Mingi had each planned separately to come clean about your feelings. You were the first to confess after having a particularly tiring clean-up session (just so you won't inhale the dust that had accumulated in the cabin), accidentally telling them how you could see the three of you in your 30s cleaning the apartment you will share together. You remembered the dread that washed down on you when Mingi asked what you meant. Like the reliable pillar he is, Yunho was the one who helped you calm yourself down and told you that he could see the same thing, how he felt the same way about you and Mingi. Then Mingi confessed his own feelings and from then on, you three were even more inseparable than you had ever been before.

While it surprised people that the three of you decided to commit to a relationship that was far from orthodox, no one was really fazed. Everyone who knew the three of you had at least assumed you three were sleeping together which was why no one approached either one of you romantically all through university.

Some called it fate, some called it dedication.

You believed in the former more than the latter.

But recently?

You feared that you had trapped them.

Maybe it was a quarter-life crisis but you suddenly felt nauseous at the thought of your life. It wasn't like things were falling apart. On the contrary, the pieces of your life were finally falling into place; you were starting to really shine at work, and you were finally able to start saving whilst resolving some of your financial issues. Your relationship with your boyfriends was even at its peak, there was more love than the three of you ever needed and you three were beyond happy.

Then one day, one day a week ago, things crashed down on you.

You didn't know what it was, you didn't know what caused it, but you suddenly couldn't breathe. You remembered holding onto the bathroom sink while your body trembled, tears streaming down your face like a busted faucet and you couldn't move. The cool bathroom suddenly felt suffocating and the sound of your boyfriends laughing just on the other side of the door felt deafening. It took you a long while to break free from that state and you only managed to do so because Mingi had knocked on the bathroom door asking for you to let him in because he needed to use the bathroom. That night, you found yourself unable to sleep and even finding their presence too much for you to handle even after switching position with Mingi so you could be at the edge. You had slipped away and cried yourself to sleep on the couch, sobbing silently until fatigue took over.

That whole week you were distant until three days ago when you came home from work to see a note on the table from Yunho who let you know that they were out for a bit to get something special for you.

One second you were pouring yourself a glass of water to calm your trembling hands and the next, you were in a train with a duffle bag heading to the countryside, cradling your hand that had a gash and fresh dried blood.

When you arrived at the dark and lonely cabin, you finally broke down, wailing into the emptiness as you hugged yourself in the middle of the room.

Neither of them was aware of what happened.

Or so you thought.

The first person who noticed how distant you became was Yunho. He had sensed that something was wrong since that day in the bathroom. He could never forget the look on your face as you stepped out. Your usually lively eyes were empty and you didn't even react when Mingi pressed a kiss on your forehead. At first, he thought that you might have had a bad day and that you were just not in the mood but as the days passed, you seemed more silent and distant. Yunho wanted to ask what was wrong but he didn't want to make it seem like he was prying so he tried to let you know that he was there for you in different ways; soft touches, words of affirmation, little presents in the form of your favourite drink or plans of going on a trip. He wanted you to have all the space you needed.

Mingi on the other hand immediately jumped into worrying about you. Suddenly he kept texting about your whereabouts and your feelings. He had even asked if he should pick you up early from work and even showed that he was already in front of your building. Mingi knew what it felt like to be all alone stuck in a headspace and it had taken him so long and finally relent, letting you and Yunho pull him out and believing you two that you were there for him. So he wanted to repay all that especially since you were the one who gently washed his tear-stained face and slowly fed him until he regained his own strength. He remembered the pit and he didn't like the idea of you being there.

So when they were met with an empty apartment the day you left, they went into panic mode. The sight of a couple droplets of blood near the broken glass and your work bag thrown carelessly on the couch was enough to send them into a frenzy and sadly, they even turned on each other.

Yunho wanted to calm himself and Mingi down first because neither of them even knew what happened and where you had gone to while Mingi, pointing that out, stated that they both needed to catch you before you could even go far. Then they fought over the fact that they were fighting when they should be looking for you and it ended with Mingi leaving the apartment when Yunho ran into your shared room, trying to charge his phone to see if you had contacted either of them.

Essentially, the three of you were alone at that moment in time. Nothing made sense and none of you had any ways of getting an answer.

You were alone in the cabin, crying your eyes out about... Nothing. You felt stupid for feeling bad over your life that was going rather well and you felt bad for leaving your boyfriends without an explanation. It was simple, you could've simply grabbed the phone and texted either one of them to let them know... Something. You could tell them that you needed time alone. But do you really? You could tell them that you were sorry. But were you really? You could tell them that you were overwhelmed and that they were not making your situation any better by being so supportive. But were they really? You felt like you were not worthy to even send them a text because who the fuck were you to be acting like that and then asking for understanding?

Mingi was running around aimlessly with worry sitting deep in the pit of his stomach. He had gone to several of your friends' places, friends you trusted who wouldn't blab about your disappearance. He hated being in a state of not knowing because he felt helpless. He hated being helpless. Mingi was not a helpless person so he didn't want to be associated with the feeling. First things first, he had to find you. But where could you be? Why had he never taken the time to ask you places you wanted to go to, thinking that you had gone alone because he was too busy with himself. Seeds of doubt planted by the negativity of the situation started sprouting its ugliness. Was your leaving his fault? Was he too self-involved to not have taken the time to dedicate his attention to you once in a while? Was he taking too much of Yunho and your attention? His head hurts.

Yunho, in defeat, slumped against the bed you three shared. Your pillar, your rock finally broke down and with each sob, his mind found it even harder to make sense of things. All the decision in his life was made on a strong foundation, Yunho was a sure man, and he didn't regret the choices he made and the path he took. But was he too sure of himself this time? Out of the three of you, Yunho was always the tie-breaker because he makes his decisions carefully and with logic. He never found any reason to resent that part of him until you left. Did he miss something? Were there signs that you had needed a different kind of treatment? Had he gotten too overconfident this time? Had his so-called level-headedness cost him something important?

Whatever it was you hoped could happen or appear by running away alone never came. Each hour you spent trying to make sense of things or finding a way to calm yourself only made it clear that you were all alone.

Dark thoughts started plaguing your brain, skewing your happy memories into something that was far from reality. The memories you had of banding together into a trio with Yunho and Mingi turned into fear that maybe you had inserted yourself into their friendship. After all, they found themselves together first before you bumped into Yunho and told him how you were alone, effectively guilt-tripping him. The thought of how they have always had your back turned into anxiety that maybe you had leaned on them too much. You relied on them more than you should and now you were a burden to them. The things you told them, should you have told them? Especially the dark ones, the ones that stemmed from your bad mental state. Were you manipulating them without realizing it? Were your promises of the future even really promises? How could you be sure that it wasn't you pressuring your expectations to them?

It had been three days. Were you still alone because they thought you were better off alone? That they too, needed time away from you? Maybe you never needed your own space, maybe it was your subconscious telling you that you needed to give them space from you.

Loud bangs broke the train of thought and the more you came back to reality, the more you recognized the voices.

"Mingi?" you inhaled sharply, seeing the face of one of your lovers on the window as he banged the wall.

Thinking that you were hallucinating, you turned your head away and stood up. There was no way he could be there.

More bangs were heard and when you turned around again, you saw both Mingi who was now with Yunho staring at you from the window.

"(y/n), open up!" Yunho called out.

Normally, you would register his voice as is but your brain, in its unstable state, thought that he was demanding you to let him in. Mingi too, though he was only standing there looking at you, sending knocks on the window as he wanted to hold you once again, your brain took that as him glaring at you and being in fury.

Anxiety shot up and your head shook violently. "N-no..." you whimpered, bottom lip trembling as you took a step back only to trip on a carpet and fall.

The sight of you on the floor caused Mingi and Yunho to abandon all reasons and logic and all they wanted to do was to help you. They started banging and trying to pry the door open, needing to get inside to be there for you but all it did was send you into a deeper spiral without them realizing. Your body curled into a ball while they were yelling for you to open the door. The more you heard them, the worse you felt and before you knew it, you were yelling for them to leave you be, leave you alone, you didn't deserve them.

It wasn't until you started yelling at how you should have never burdened yourself on them that they stopped banging on the door. Their eyes welled with tears hearing the things, untrue things, you hurled at yourself. It hurt them to hear you think so low of yourself like that. You were everything to them, you were something so precious and special and to think that you believe they would be better without you, it was like a serrated knife had been plunged into their hearts multiple times.

"That's not true (y/n), please..." Mingi rested his forehead on the door as his eyes closed slowly, letting tears wet his cheeks, "Please let me in, I... We... (y/n), please," he whimpered.

Looking around, Yunho remembered that the owner of the cabin had told him about a spare key a long time ago. Thinking that it was worth a shot, Yunho was glad to see that there was still a key hidden under the cushion of the porch lounger.

You were too busy bawling to realize that Yunho had opened the door successfully which was a good thing because had you realized, you would have done something stupid like run out into the field in the cold January breeze.

Mingi tried to rush inside only for Yunho to stop him, holding onto his arm as he watched you cry with a broken heart.

"Yunho, wha-"

Wordlessly, Yunho pulled Mingi down to sit in the doorway while maintaining his gaze on you.

Though confused, Mingi followed along, sitting down and looking between Yunho and you.

"We should go in there. She needs us," Mingi said, voice cracking as he shook Yunho slightly, trying to convince him to go inside. He knew he could definitely go inside himself, but for some reason, he felt like he shouldn't.

For once, Yunho didn't give any explanation and just shook his head one more time. Soon, however, his hand took one of Mingi's and they sat there with you with hands linked, waiting for you to... Well, they weren't sure what they were waiting for but they were sure they would understand soon.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You must have passed out from crying because you remembered feeling cold and alone but the moment you came to again, you realized that this time, you were... Warm.

Sitting up, you noticed that the skies outside were dark and when you turned your body around, you saw Yunho and Mingi attending to the fireplace. The cabin was dark save for the illumination provided by the warm fire.

It took a bit of time for your eyes to adjust but when your eyes really focused, you noticed that Mingi was holding onto your favourite blanket that you forgot to bring. How did they even got inside?

For a moment, you only watched them do their thing, comfortably sitting in silence as if enjoying conversation done by the soft crackles of the fireplace.

Mingi felt something on the back of his neck and when he turned his body slightly, he saw that you were staring at him with puffy eyes. His instinct told him to run to you and envelop you in a hug and tell you how worried he was and how much he regretted things that he thought he did. But his better judgement stopped him from making a move forward. Instead, he cracked a gentle smile and ducked his head down, carefully opening your folded blanket as a silent invitation.

Your body moved automatically towards him and before you knew it, you were suddenly sat in between Mingi and Yunho.

While Mingi draped you with your blanket, Yunho made final adjustments on the firewood before he sat down close to you and even moved so that you and he were shoulder-to-shoulder.

You were sure that they were going to ask what happened, what was wrong with you, why you ran away. But minutes passed and all there was was... Silence. You were sure that when you saw them again you'd be anxious because you had to explain yourself but all you felt was a sense of calm. It was rather ridiculous but you could feel the anxiety melting off of your body.

"I'm tired," finally you opened up even though your voice cracked due to how hoarse your throat felt. "I'm so tired," you exhaled as you closed your eyes, your bottom lip trembling once again.

This time, Yunho moved to sidle even closer to you so he could guide your head gently to rest on his chest. "You... Can you find it in your heart... To rest in mine?" Yunho spoke up finally, voice cracking as well. Mingi then moved closer until he was able to wrap his hands around your waist whilst leaning his head on Yunho's strong shoulder, effectively caging you securely between them. "You can rest in our hearts, love," he added, ducking to press a gentle kiss on your shoulder.

Nothing else needed to be said because nothing else should. The three of you had been through so much together in your youth that it felt like you were all alone. But, with the stars as your witness and the fire as your companion, you realized something that was always true. Even lonely, you were always together and your inadequacies made you whole. While pain exists and will always find its way back to remind you of your faults, it allows you to remember who and what you are, but most importantly, what you now have from that.

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[casper-spills]

| Tarot Cards: Places they represent |

✩░▒▓▆▅▃▂▁𝟑𝟎𝟎 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥!▁▂▃▅▆▓▒░✩

Hey guys! Welcome back to another post ♡

We reached 300 followers! And I'm gonna do a special for you guys because I seriously am so grateful for all of your support. My blog has been growing so fast and I literally never expected to be where I am today. Thank you! ♡

This post will be a little different to my usual stuff. I was thinking I might start a series like this where I give some tips on how to read your tarot! I'll also include the sources I use at the end in case you wanted to check those out too.

Anyway, here is a list of places that the cards represent ♡

Sincerely,

Cassy the friendly ghost ♡

✦Masterlist ✦Paid Readings ✦Support me through Kofi

𓆩♡𓆪 𝙎𝙐𝙈𝙈𝙀𝙍 𝘿𝙄𝙎𝘾𝙊𝙐𝙉𝙏 50% 𝙊𝙁𝙁 !! 𓆩♡𓆪

Ends on September 22nd

| KO-FI SHOP |

| MAJOR ARCANA |

1. Magician - Kitchen, labatory, shows, music, magic, performances

2. High Priestess - Secret place, secret society, library, somewhere quiet, reading rooms, theatre, halls

3. Empress - Old/stately homes, old school building, old hospital building, boutique, beauty parlor, restaurants

4. Emperor - Royal palace, business establishments, schools, univerisity

5. Heirophant - Church, univeristy, temple, place of worship, corporate building

6. Lovers - Sweet shop, date locations, love hotel, honeymoon places

7. Chariot - Car ralley, racing fixtures, garages, horse racing, highway

8. Strength - Zoo, petting zoos, gym, fitness studios

9. Hermit - Cave, retreat centres, hill walking

10. Wheel - Ferris wheels, london eye, casino, lottery tickets, shops selling wheels

11. Justice - Court, arbitration offices, counselling institution, police department

12. Hanged Man - Bungee jumping, sky diving, thrilling activities

13. Death - Church yard, funeral parlor, butcher, cemetary

14. Temperance - Cocktail bar, queues, waiting rooms, chemist dispensary

15. Devil - Adult shops, clubs, casinos, brothel, strip clubs

16. Tower - Chop shops, tall buildings, skyscrapers, stormy areas, fire

17. Star - Water, ocean, river, stargazing

18. Moon - Nighttime, stargazing, movie, stage, theatre

19. Sun - Birth centre, midwifery unti, hospital, holidays, tanning booths, abroad

20. Judgement - Rehabilitation centres, church, treament centres, spa

21. World - Airport, flying, dance studios

| MINOR ARCANA |

☁︎ 𝒔𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 ☁︎

Ace - Editor's room, skyscrapers, office, library, radio tower

Two - Statue of liberty, new york, seashore

Three - Hospital, rainy place, cloudy areas

Four - Bedroom, quiet places, funeral parlor

Five - Debate club, near water, themepark, competitive environments

Six - Boats, river, cruisers

Seven - Archery, secret location, casino, bomb shelter

Eight - Prison, therapy

Nine - Psychiatric hospital, confessional

Ten - Surgery room, accupuncture clinic, dentists

Page - Fraternity, rowdy places, sports arena

Knight - Windy places, windmills

Queen - Fenced off places, great walls, boundaries, spikes fences

King - Lawyers office

🕯 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔 🕯

Ace - Workshop, construction site

Two - Balcony, overseas, historical travel, boat

Three - Seaside, boat travel

Four - Fastfood, cafe, outdoors, wedding, celebration

Five - Sport centre, pool game

Six - Market, downtown, show, event, someone/something noticable

Seven - Competitive/violent environment

Eight - Road trip, highway

Nine - Competitive environment, barrier, wall, bouncer, high security

Ten - Workplace, labour, sweatshop

Page - Disco, dance, party

Knight - Hot and dry place, bonfire, abroad, holiday

Queen - Social events

King - Active place, fast moving environments

꒦꒷ 𝒄𝒖𝒑𝒔 ꒷꒦

Ace - Lake, pond, birdbath, birds

Two - Luxury, home, common dating places

Three - Bar, pub, party

Four - Under a tree, graveyard

Five - A place of regret, place of bad memories, hospital, flooded areas, bridge, after party cleanup, alone in a bar

Six - Flourists, schoolyard, playground, nostalgic places

Seven - Highup places, views, drug suppliers, spots where people do drugs, drug shops

Eight - Bookstore, library, cave, quiet

Nine - Bar, party, pub, dinner, home

Ten - Family gatherings, park, outdoor, bbq party

Page - Aquariums, fish tanks, sea parks

Knight - Picnics, peaceful/romantic areas

Queen - Bathtub with cancles, home, skinny dipping, swimming

King - Beach, lake

˗ˏˋ 𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒄𝒍𝒆𝒔 ˎˊ˗

Ace - Dispensary, bank, currency exchange centre

Two - Circus, arcade, carnival

Three - Fashion show runway, art gallery, boutique, museum

Four - Uncle scrooge's home, gold reserves, saferoom, secret hideout, vault

Five - The streets, people living in powerty, homeless spots,

Six - Pawn shops, currency exchange shops, trade stores

Seven - Nursery, orchard

Eight - workshop, construction site

Nine - Gardens, green parks

Ten - Market

Page - Field, farm, family business

Knight - Workplace, chores, school

Queen - Home, nursery room

King - Bank manager's office

♥Thank you for your support!♥

Dividers by @cafekitsune, @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Source

[callahanisms]

burnt out passions

because i watched the red shoes and this idea just popped into my head.

tashi duncan they can never make me hate you. i am a tashi duncan defender until i die. (sorry art)

character: tashi duncan

context: stanford. 2007 - 2008.

you and tashi understood one thing: passion was everything.

your lives revolved around your passions. for her, it was the sport of tennis. and for you, it was the dance of ballet.

your step-father was quite rich, bringing you and your parental figure out of poverty. it was through him that you started going to tennis matches. and you were a fan of tashi duncan.

she was meant to be a star. she was meant to go far. she was meant to have that grand slam career title that most, if not all, tennis players envied.

you always admired her from afar. but when you walked into class on your first day of class in your freshman year, you were not expecting to see tashi duncan.

the class was your typical writing 101 class, the kind that was meant to prepare students on research and how to write. within the class were workshops. after all, part of making a good essay was to proofread and have everything peer reviewed.

"you have a great voice."

your paper was dumped in front of you. there were barely any corrections on it. just a lot of underlining and side notes. looking up, you saw the woman that was tashi duncan.

"thanks." you hand her paper over to her.

tashi flips through it. she sees a lot of doodles on her paper that express your annotations through speech and thought bubbles.

"i also thought your voice was great. your passion for tennis really comes through. although i think having seen you play enhanced the reading experience."

"so...you've seen me play?" she crosses her arms over her chest.

"my step-father loves tennis."

"fun. i learned some new things in your paper. you really like ballet?"

"ideally i'd like to be professional. but who knows how stable that is." in comparison to being a famous tennis player. "which is why i'm here. to get a degree in...something."

tashi glances down. you're wearing red shoes. "so...do you wear red because of the movie you mentioned?"

"maybe. it's been a thing since i was a kid."

a small smile begins to curl on her face. "you wanna get lunch?"

"so you do ballet? do your feet ever hurt?"

"all the time." your feet hurt just thinking about dancing again. "i can't imagine my life without ballet."

"i can relate to that." she lifts her cup up and you gently tap your own against hers.

"you should come to the show. we're having one near the end of the semester."

"so soon? we just got here."

"i need to train. keep my muscles flexible and ready."

"you should try tennis. you might actually be really good at it." ballet took a ton of control and coordination. tennis would be a perfect sport for you. or, at least, a decent fit.

"i tried. i'm terrible at hitting balls with a racket."

"who said you had to be good?"

"i would like to think that if i'm playing with tashi duncan...at least i should be mediocre."

you became one of tashi's favorite people to hang out with. and you were also her favorite gym partner. your schedules just lined up perfectly.

every time you guys went to work out, you would lead the stretches beforehand.

sometimes, you guys would visit the dance studio and you would teach her some basic moves. when your finger tips grazed her arm, she would shudder. you were careful when touching her and asked her all the time if you could hold her waist.

"you don't need to ask (y/n)! we're friends." tashi has that soft look in her eyes. she always looked at you with those eyes.

"still!" you say. "don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"you won't! you could never."

you took a deep breath when she said that, trying to ignore the heat beginning to swirl in your body. your body so close to hers. her smile. her smooth skin. her voice. and her smelled.

she always smelled divine.

tashi never knew ballet could be so intense.

she came with art to the show, holding a bouquet of flowers. you had been working hard and she wanted to make sure your efforts were acknowledged and received by her.

you moved with such precision and fluidity. she swore you turned into a blur.

your body was nimble. and that outfit...well, she could see your body. she had a boyfriend. but you were right there and a lot more present than patrick, who was currently on tour.

she has to push the thoughts aside, not noticing the fact that art sees the way she looks at you.

"you were fucking amazing!"

you were surprised when you feel just how hard she hugs you. she squeezes almost a little too tight.

and yet, you accept it. you lean into it and savor her touch.

"thanks for coming tashi. i saw you in the crowd."

finally, tashi lets you go. she takes the flowers from art. you could feel your face heat up. "t-tashi...you didn't have to."

"nonsense!" she playfully hits your arm. "you worked hard. remember that breakdown you had?" a small laugh leaves you when thinking about it.

it happened at the dance studio in the gym. you guys were stretching and all the emotions from midterms, finals projects, and your upcoming lead role came crashing down.

"you deserve it. you were amazing. if you're not hired when you get out of college..." she shakes her head. but she cannot stop grinning.

you bought flowers for tashi. it was the first game of the season. her and art have been training for this. and you were excited to see her play not as a spectator, but as her friend!

earlier during the week, you had convened with art to try to pick out which bought to get her and exactly how big.

when you got there though, it was just art. you were expecting to see another white boy. and you sit on art's right. "so...what happened to patrick?"

you wanted to see for yourself who tashi duncan's boyfriend was. who exactly managed to bag tashi duncan? you wanted to meet him. not that you were jealous...

but you were.

art leans back in the seat. "he's not coming. him and tashi had a fight."

you frown and continue holding the flowers. "...he sounds like an ass."

"tell me about it."

when tashi tore her acl on the court, you swore you could feel the pain in your own leg. a sort of phantom feeling.

you were frozen, trying to determine if what you saw truly happened.

art was quicker than you, rushing down and even jumping over the net.

you're walking to the infirmary room when you can hear the argument.

"out! out!"

"listen-" says the guy with messy dark hair. he looks disheveled. and like shit.

"patrick get the fuck out of here!"

you've never heard art yell. ever. he never even raised his voice.

patrick seems defeated and he abides by them, leaving. his eyes meet yours. "nice flowers." he notices the card attached to a string.

For the best tennis player I know: TASHI ♡

"have fun. now's your chance too. but you should know. art's restless."

you clench your jaw and walk past him. art was right. he was an ass.

tashi glances at the door when your head pops in. she doesn't say anything, but her shoulders slouch a little bit. you take it as a sign to come in and walk over to her side.

she looks at the flowers and at the card attached to the string. "i don't deserve those."

"if anyone deserves flowers...it's you." you could feel your eyes tearing up. you feel her pain. you understand her frustration. and most importantly, you feel her devastation.

tashi takes the flowers from your hands, her fingers touching your own. she takes a deep breath and inhales their scent. it was nice. you chose a good bouquet.

little did you know that it was the death of her career. and you had brought flowers to her funeral.

your next role was a challenging one. it had you straining your legs every day while you trained, trying to get your tempo right. nothing seemed to work though.

the stress of midterms also didn't help. you had a lot of work on your plate. many papers, almost too many exams. you didn't sleep much. you couldn't sleep.

tashi felt some guilt towards you helping her. you were taking time out of your own day to get her back into shape.

you were her cheerleader. you believed that she could heal and return to the court. you helped her with her exercises, woke up early to go to her room and help her stretch.

her frustration continued to boil over when she couldn't do the things she wanted to do.

not only was she a failure, but she was also letting you down.

"are you disappointed in me?"

you look at her as you stretch her leg for her. it was bent beneath you and you're careful when adding the pressure. she's staring up at the ceiling.

it was still dark outside.

"i could never be disappointed in you."

"don't bullshit me (y/n)."

"i mean it tashi. i could never be disappointed in you." she looks at you. there are tears threatening to spill.

"...i'm afraid my only skill is hitting a ball with a racket." and that without it, she was nothing. you didn't need her to voice it. you could see it in her eyes, in her posture, in her demeanor.

"no. it is not. you're tashi motherfucking duncan. you're smart, you're gorgeous, and you're ambitious. you can write! you're great at organizing! you give awesome advice! and most importantly, you get shit done. if anything tries to stop you, you find a way around it. and you see to it that you have a way to participate."

her heart skips a beat.

"you're kissing my ass." a smile cracks on her face.

you wanted to tell her that you loved her. it threatened to spill from your tongue.

"i would love to."

tashi laughs, covering her face with her hands. she takes the opportunity to wipe away her tears as you pull her leg back into a resting position.

"today's dress rehearsal, right?" she sits up as you stand and grab some of the bottles of gatorade you put in her fridge to keep cold.

"yeah. you don't have to come if you're not up for it."

tashi gently rubs her knee before looking up at you. "i could use the time to rest."

"is art coming?"

tashi purses her lips. "art and i...aren't really talking anymore..."

you frown. "i'm sorry to hear that." you decide not to ask or push it. but part of you felt elated that he was gone. it always felt like a crowd with you and tashi. and art.

while working out and practicing earlier, you decided to ignore the throbbing pain in your hip. when tashi asks if you want to come with her for a break, you tell her that you wanted to keep training. you were close to nailing it.

you were perhaps overconfident when it came time to dress rehearsal.

at the climax of the shower, the music surging, your heart beating, your costume flaring out, you hear a loud pop. and when you land, you hear another pop.

it seemed that fate decided to fuck with you that night.

the pain in your right side was nearly unbearable.

tashi recognized that cry of pain. she heard it when she went to bed, when she reflected upon her life at night. she rises out of her seat, getting over to the stage as fast as possible.

you overexerted yourself, tearing your achilles and your labrum. at the very least, it would take you out of your role currently. at the worst, it would inhibit your movements for the rest of your life.

tashi was with you the whole time. you could only stare blankly at the x-rays.

without knowing, you're leaning towards her. until your head is against her body. she puts an arm around you, keeping you close in silent understanding.

you heard a knock at your door. ever since your injury, you had barely come out of your room, only for class and to eat to spend your dining dollars.

you groan, sitting up and carefully getting off the bed. you use your crutches and open the door. "tashi...it's late..."

tashi holds a bag of snacks and drinks. "you look like shit."

"that's because i feel like shit."

you guys were kind of matching. her in her brace and you in your splint.

you move aside to let her in and she closes the door for you. "i bought all your favorites." she says, putting the drinks into the fridge to keep them cold. she sets the bag of snacks down on your desk.

tashi watches you go back to your bed and set your crutches aside. you try your best to get onto the bed using your upper body strength, but your arms were failing you.

she walks over and gently lifts you up at your thighs while you push yourself up with your arms. it works, and you're able to sit on the mattress topped by a mattress topper.

"can't even...get on my fucking bed!" you grit your teeth. and you didn't have the strength to adjust the height of your bed either.

tashi frowns. "there's no shame in needing help." you showed her that.

"i know. i just..." you lick your lips, looking at her. "i wish i took that break. i wouldn't be in this position if i did." you sniffle.

tashi's eyes glance down at your lips before going back up. "i spend too much time worrying about the what ifs."

"i shouldn't. it's...stupid."

there's a comfortable silence between the two of you. you look at tashi. the way her hair frames her face. her big brown eyes. her lips that you desperately wanted to taste. she was still gorgeous even dressed down in her stanford sweater and athletic shorts.

she leans forward, her kiss soft and gentle.

your hand goes to rest on her neck, kissing her back.

tashi kisses you harder, her mouth moving in hungry motions. you match her pace, kissing her with just as much hunger.

you let her push you down onto the mattress so she could be on top. her hands begin to trail down your body, finding the end of your sweater. she slides her hand beneath, feeling your cool skin.

you pull away, your breathing heavy. "are you sure?" you didn't understand why tashi duncan would want to kiss you of all people. even if you wanted to kiss her.

"i'm sure." she kisses you again and you moan against her lips, letting her tongue slide past your lips and dance with your tongue.

[tparker48]

Request from Anonymous

Evening had arrived as the streets of the neighborhood began to quiet down. Cars pulled into their driveways, people from inside heading into their homes. In a car resting inside a garage, would be a man named Hogan. He yawned as he got out of the car, tossing his safety cap to his workshop tool table near the front of his car. He dragged his feet toward the main door, and the cold breath of the air washed over him. The corners of his construction gear bulged into his arm pits, the sound of tears seething from his shoulders. He lowered his bag toward the wall, and his body became lighter, like a boulder had just been lifted from his back.

“One down, now I just gotta get these..” He sucked in his gut, grabbing the zipper of his uniform as his stomach bounced across his waistline. Sawdust splashing into the air, casting its particles into the sunlight as they danced from the laundry room window. He took to his pants, and let out a satisfied grunt as he kicked his boots off. “That’s better.”

He kicked the leathery shoes next to the washer machine, tossing his clothes into the opening as he walked bare into the living room. He grabbed his headset from the living room table and put them on. He crashed to his stomach on the floor, his console turning on along the shelf. After hours of work, what better way to unwind than through quality gaming.

He crashed to his stomach on the floor, his console turning on along the shelf. "Let's see what the boys are up to on deathwatch."

He flipped through the screen to his game, turning on his microphone as he searched through the lobby.

—--------

An hour had gone by since Hogan started to relax, enjoying the peace of enjoying the peace of with his online friends. The screen flashed with chaos as effects danced around the frame, Hogan’s call outs booming through the acoustic’s of the living room. But  another chaos brewed in the shadows, as a small pair of eyes peeked from the folds of a crumpled towel. Inside, would be Peppe, staring at his hubby’s backside.

“He’s finally home.” he said, a low giggle escaping from him. “Took longer than expected, but at least it gave me time to prepare.”

He dug into his pocket and fetched a tiny piece of gum, unwrapping its plastic blanket as it overtook his chest. He folded into a cubed shaped ball, and chewed at its end until the entire thing fit into his mouth. He savored the fruity flavor filling his mouth as he slinked out from beneath the towel, the smell of gas fumes polluting the air as the giant soles raked through the fibers of the carpet. 

He crept faster, the path narrowing as it centered toward Hogan. A mountain of hairy muscle rose before him, the elastic fabric over the mounds spreading atop like a blanket of snow.  After many times of venturing to his ass, he got tired of the view. It reminded him of being on an island, guarded by a musky volcano as it swayed overhead. He’d think he’d feel bad pranking his hubby all the time, but damn did it feel good to watch him squirm. And with an opportunity like this, it was too good to pass up.

He approached the crease between Hogan’s legs, the lining of crack rocketing over the bubbled ridge. He stepped upon the bulk of his crotch, sweat oozing from its surface like a leaking sponge. Must’ve been working hard out there on the construction, he thought, even after an hour of cooling still his backside was wet.

“Typical, Hogan. Big guy’s certainly not making it easy.” he rolled his eyes, gripping into the white fabrice along the left leg.

He clung to the bushed of hair, pushing into the thick borders sealing the mounds inside. His foot creased into a loose fold, warmth from beneath the fabric against as the smell of fresh sweat poured into his nose. He puffed his nose to ease its stinging sensation, continuing his climb aboard the mounds.

Sausage fingers reached from the other mound, piercing the lining of his crack Peppe dragged to the center. “Damn sweat’s going in the wrong places.” Hogan said, sliding his now glistening palm from the crack.

"Easy horsie, can't have your rider bucking off with the reins." Peppe whispered.  

He climbed to the top of Hogan’s ass and caught a glimpse of the horizon. A slope met before him as it climbed to a meaty neck above, the Tv screen flashing behind Hogan’s frenzied hair. He cherished the view for a moment before digging through his pocket, pulling a bulky string from inside. He opened his mouth and stuck the end of the string against the sticky mass, molding it with his tongue to ensure it was secure.

 Phase one of his great prank was complete, now it was time for the main event.

He approached the top of the elastic fabric, peeling a corer for himself as he tucked his feet inside. He shimmied himself between the mounds, watching the warm flesh rise as they spilled over his chest. Hogan’s fingers returned, stamping just a foot from Peppe as it stirred in place. 

“That works.” He said, shimmying the rest of his body as he slipped beneath the surface.

 The damp fingers wagged above as he dove into the mounds, flesh molding his body as they swallowed the light. Strands of hair snagged at his limbs, the scent of dry cement reaping his nostrils as sweat dashed into his clothes. After all was said and done, he had to remind Hoga to take a shower. Any more scents added to his musk and he’d be a walking gas station. The hairs thickened as they spread into him like a brush, revealing a red puckered star as it winked with sweat. It blew kisses as Peppe wisped past its folds, cushioning at the bottom as his foot sank between two soft boulders. 

“Target acquired,” He spat the gum from his mouth. “and just enough hair to strap on.”

He placed the wad against the ridge of the hair taint, cherry picking bunched hair as he molded them into the gum like clay. Hogan’s  legs shuffled, scooping Peppe close as he planted against the warm testicles.  

"What’s this guy teabagging for? Our team won that fair and square! Let me get a crack at him, I'll give him some nuts he can teabag!"

“As competitive as ever” Peppe mumbled, peeling from the damp skin. He spun a portion of the string to anchor Hogan’s hairs. They sprawled out like a row of vines, their sweat soaked surface brushing against him as if it were a paint brush. Before long, the task was complete, hairs wrapping around the gum as if they were holding it up. “Like a bouquet of smelly vines.” he patted at the top of the gum.

He crawled toward the bottom of Hogan's balls, the dampened fabric appearing as it stretched behind him. Peppe followed its path until it curved upward, taking to the thick hairs covering the mounds as he crawled back the way he came.  They slid through his fingers, his body cast back down as he tumbled into the mustache covering his anus. Its bristles tickled his nose as he swatted them away, grabbing a handful in a bunch as he climbed up its length. 

“Yeah that’s right, take all these nuts!”Hogan roared, his own thighs moving as the sac below squished into the fabric. 

Peppe fought its sway, gripping harder at the strands of hair as he reached  toward the slanted lighting of the crack. He slithering his palm back into the cool world of the living room, shimmying the rest of him through the caked mounds before Pulling the rest of the rope out of his pocket.

“Alright..that’s my workout for today.” Peppe wheezed.

 He climbed back to the top of Hogan’s waist, and looked to his head. Still he faced the Tv screen, even after traveling through his underwear. Just what he was expecting, and now it was time to retrieve the fruits of his labor. Wrapped the end of the rope around his wrist, the line straightening as it darted beneath the fabric like an anchor.

“Oh ho, prepare for a sting of your life Hogan.”

"Well done guys, we managed to pass that squad without setting them off. Too bad we can’t say the same for you..”the mute icon appeared on the side of the screen,Hogan batting an eye backwards. “..Peppe.” 

He froze at his words. “Huh?!”

 the string tightened as he yanked him beneath the underwear, like a fish caught on a hook as he burrowed through the mound of flesh. The dimmed space greeted him once more, his face dragged along the hairs resting in the bubbled valley. From what took minutes turned to mere seconds as he was dragged beneath the bulk of the testicles, fingers fiddling at the string as if it were a spider retracting its web. His back clung to the wad of gum at the taint, the fingers taking to his side as they jammed him beneath the muscular boulders. He gritted beneath its weight, the clammy skin spooning his ears as they acted as restraints on his head.

The ground shifted as  fingers pulled the waistband apart, Hogan’s face peering inside. "What do we have here, a munchkin taking a dip in my underwear."

Peppe shuffled a fold from his mouth. "What gave me away?"

"Come now, as many times as you explored my body, don't you think I would know if something complex was in the way?" He dwindled a finger through his pubes decorating the round spheres between his legs, swirling a patch of Peppe’s into the mix. "Hair pulling. Tsk, you gotta do better than that, dumpling."

"What can I say? It's a classic."

"Uh huh, charming. You know you're getting  punished for this right? I missed a lot of shots because of your meddling. Naught, naughty." He squeezed his legs together, Peppe’s lips smacking as they puckered like a fish. "Unfortunately we’re still in a game, so consider this a taste of what’s to come."

His smile disappeared as the waistband clamped at his waist, a gust of musk washing into Peppe before the thighs shifted, and  Hogan’s weight pushed at his back. "Hubby! Come on, you can’t be made at this face. You can’t do this to your dump-" a solid surface cushioned his chin, the bulk of the giant testicles plonking atop his head. “pling..”

A soft chuckle vibrated the walls. "Oh no, you’re not getting off that easy, hun. No matter how adorable that face is."

Taking the slow route huh? Just like him to toy with him slowly. Peppe rolled his eyes forward,wiggling his head to relieve pressure from his chin. Sloshing muffled from the orbs cupping his face, like giant silos filled to the brim with water. Its body heat grew hotter as its muscle flexed, the shaft knocking out of place as it drooled into the white fabric. He was getting off at my capture, and he called him the naughty one.

But even caught, he wasn’t going to give up just yet. He shifted his gaze into one of the orbs, inhaling the dried sweat coating the skin as he leaned his fingers to his jacket. He pulled the bottom of the fabric from his pants, shedding from its layer as he pressed it into the clammed ceiling. He gazed into the maw of the musky cave, the loose skin sagging as if were going to collapse. 

 There wasn’t enough room to pull the string, but he wasn’t without options as he looked to the flexing muscle.  He laid upon his back, taking a handful of the soft skin as he pulled himself upward. The humidity between was rough feet, his skin skidding against Hogan’s as it peeled off like a sticker. The skin only grew firm as he reached the stem of Hogan’s cock, its barreled underbelly cushioning his chin. After moments of climbing, he sighed as the ever growing pressure slipped from his feet, the bag of sac collecting as the length of the shaft rested upon him.

He planted his feet upon the balls, and Hogan shifted. "What are you doing down there?"

"Putting my plan into motion. I'm gonna make you submit to your dumpling!" Peppe declared.

"Sure. And just how are you going to do that."

A smile crept along Peppe’s face, a foot peeling from one of the testicles. "Creativity." He spread his toes across the bulging testicle, and wiggled them into the tender muscle. He added his other foot, and pressed it to the other as he marched over them. 

A groan rumbled through the air, a thigh thrusting and a clunk came from outside. “Mmm..kneading my balls huh? Bold, I’ll give you that, but it's gonna take more than a few foot rubs to get me to cave.”

"That's for sure. This is just the appetizer." He cradled his limbs to the corner of the member, holding it against his body as if it were a body pillow. He worked himself beneath its underbelly to the top of the shroomed head. Its flesh radiated with warmth greater than the balls below, a salty stream spilling upon his shoulder as it guzzled from the slit. He ringed his fingers between its lips, the stream widening as it spilled at his neck. "You know the thing about being small? You can reach just about anywhere?"

He wiggled a palm over the slit, and jammed it inside. Its creamy fluid lubricated his arm, driving it to his shoulder as the lips clamped onto his shoulder like a sleeve. He plunged his other hand inside, and began to twist them through  the soggy folds as it trailed through the tight opening of the shaft.

Hogan’s body bucked, a sharp moan piercing the air as the sounds of buttons clacked from above "Oh..ff.."

Peppe's eyes became starry eyed. "Gotcha now."

He wormed more of his body toward the front of the underwear’s pouch, clinging his feet to the puffed edges as they peeled the hood away. The muffled grunts turned to purrs, Hogan’s entire waist beginning to thrash as if it were in a trap.

"Still thinking about surrendering?" Peppe giggled with excitement, grinding his elbows to circle the rest of his arms between the tight tube.

A digital voice announced that the game paused, the sound of a controller toppling to the side. "Give me 2 minutes,boys." Hogan's voice boomed, the space shifting as. Gravity tossed Peppe atop the bulging cock.

The inner tube tightened his arms like a vice, its girth nudging between his legs. The fabric yanked off and light blurred his vision, forcing Peppe to wince as his eyes raced to adjust. His gaze eventually relaxed, As Hogan’s met his, peering from the mountainous torso  high above.

"Now you done it, dumpling. You managed to make me cave?”

"I did? I mean yeah, I did! Take that, Hubby.” He declared, but looked up to a smile peering across his face. “You uh..you aren’t mad are you?”

“Me? Not all. In fact, I'm ecstatic.”

“You..are?”

“Yeah..” He replied. A palm raised beneath him, clasping at the center of the shaft. It pumped at a steady pace, getting stronger as it gripped at Peppe’s arms. “I get to do punishment early.”

Oh shit. Peppe tugged at his arms to get them free, shimmying his shoulders to lighten the pressure, but a suction locked them down, the cock’s throat pulsing as they tucked his arms together. Fingers curled around his back, hoisting his lower half into the center as it tilted toward the cock slit. He wrestled between the thick fingers, a thumb pressing his head into the lips as they  gummed the sides of his cheek.

The thumb trailed over his neck to the rest of his body, plunging Peppe deeper into the urethra. He was caught in the pull of the suction inside, guiding him through the tight crawlway of the tube as seed lathered into his side like lotion. The tender walls manhandled his body, thrashing him about in its attempts to gobble him up. The lips slipped higher, funneling to the tips of his toes as he sunk deeper. The cool air left from his feet, and the shaft became alive as its walls tenderized his body.

Outside, a lump traversed through the cock's underbelly bulging, sliding down at snail's pace as it flattened against Hogan’s twisting palm. He gritted his teeth, pumping harder to knock the protruding bulge from its spot as he massaged its soft ridges as it parted the walls inside. It bobbed over the base of his shaft, a finger tilting it for Hogan to see for himself. With a simple clench, the bulge launched and it plunged past the surface of his crotch, its form wisping through his inside as it curled down to the meaty low hangers throbbing below.

The World was dimmer in this region of Hogan’s body, the waves of muscle squeezing him like toothpaste through the tubes. He couldn’t move his body, his blood rushing to his head as he tried to face upward. He doubted it’d help with the surrounding fluid, gunks of slated goo lathered his face, sending his senses ablaze as his head began to swirl. The wall hugged closer as an opening arrived, his head smothered as  more salty fumes spewed into him like a ventilated shaft. 

He found himself in a round chamber, white goo secreting from the walls as they collected into a large body at the bottom of the fleshy dome. 

"Your balls?” He shouted, the sphincter encircling his neck. “Who shoves their love life into their balls?"

“Consider it a special treatment just for you. I was going to just shove you into one of my boots, but then you went and got me hard.”

Lumps caved from the walls, and the chamber became slanted. The white goo rose like a roaring tide, submerging Peppe’s head beneath its surface. It shrouded like a fog, the pink walls near him blurring with white smudges.

“Quite the load isn’t it dumpling? All thanks to you.” 

the tight tube squeezed at his body, rocketing him into the milky mess as he flailed to the surface. He inhaled the tainted air, splashing to keep himself afloat. "Okay, foul play! You’re playing dirty, how am I supposed to have fun in here?"

“Sorry, hun, that’s not my problem. You’ll just have to sit in timeout like a good boy.”

 The chamber flipped once more, spiraling Peppe  from wall to wall as if it were a tube mixer. He felt nauseous as he dunked and emerged from its gooey surface, his efforts to cease derailed as his palmed slid from the soft wall. It was only when the pool flipped to the ceiling did the swirls cease, and it crashed atop of him.

Hogan’s laugh vibrated the walls, crusts forming into the seed as it rocked in place.. "Ready to call it quits?" 

"You..can't possibly think..I'd give up after that." Peppe panted, his head spinning amongst the seed.

"Yeah I thought not, you’re too stubborn for that. Ah well, perhaps a little marinating will teach you to behave yourself." The chamber swayed as steps rang through the walls, the fluid jumping as it crashed upon a solid surface. "I'm back boys, what I miss?"

Peppe groaned as Hogan faced his attention elsewhere, his head bobbing against the milky waves as he tilted to the ceiling. He looked to the shriveled star in the ceiling, seed squeezing from its folds like a wet rag. That was his way out of this filled chamber, but it was too out of reach to grasp. He pawed at the doughy walls for leverage, hoisting upon the soft lumps to escape the milky pond. But their surface melted upon contact, spilling him into the seed once more.

“This is getting me nowhere, how’s a guy supposed to move when everything around you is muscle?” He tried again to reach for a fold, its surface slipping into the fluid as it glossed the wall beneath.

A moan erupted from above, the walls caving as waves splashed him in its epicenter. He resurfaced, looking to the walls as they battered the fluid along his borders. “He felt that?” He puzzled, swimming to the wall behind him. 

He smeared a layer of gunk from the lumpy surface, cupping his palm to split its flow to the rest of the seed. When clear pink muscle appeared, he pressed his fingertips into the soft wall, twisting it as it sunk breath its surface.

The walls shook again, and Hogan’s moans returned. When it finally settled, a smile crept upon his face. To think Hubby’s sweet spot would be right at the source of it all.  He swam closer to the wall, tapping his foot at the submerged flesh. When soft ground touched his toes, he shifted his legs into a running motion, his feet pattering against the muscular wall.

A sharp moan echoed the walls, Waves splashing in the seed. "What are you doing now?" Hogan's voice muffled.

"Improvising." he turned himself toward the wall of flesh, grabbing a handful as seed lubricated his hands. The chamber unraveled, globs of gunk slamming against the opposite wall as it crashed at the ceiling before it pattered onto his shoulders.

Hogan’s grunts turned to whimpers as the folds compressed and expanded,it battered its contents. "Stop being.. a brat." he strained, the walls beginning to pulse..

The seed’s current grew stronger, sweeping Peppe from the walls as he swirled around the rim.The walls compressed, and the ceiling closed in as the sphincter spasmed in place.

"Almost there, just one more push.." he assured himself, clinging to the corner of the folds to continue his efforts.

 The once spacious chamber shrunk to the size of a quarter, a mere gap separating Peppe from the chamber’s quivering lips. He massaged its folds to the best of his ability, the substance overtaking his arms as they splashed about his wrist. The walls squeeze closer as the fluid reached his chin, forcing him to tuck his nose close to the salty folds. 

"Here goes nothing." he managed to muster, taking a breath as he kissed into the center of the sphincter.

He sunk beneath the seed’s surface, suspended in the middle of the sac as the walls surrounding him became restless. Hogan’s grunt's grew louder, distorted as they became strained. Hard thumps shook the chamber, and the star above winked before it opened its entrance like a floodgate. A suction dragged at his body, pulling him against the widening entrance. Its lips barely passed his shoulder, the current flowing through his armpit as he held his breath.

A watery slosh echoed the chamber, before Hogan’s roar overwhelmed it.

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

Hogan’s body tensed, the controller in his hand slipping to the pocket of the couch. He stared weakly at his seed soaked palm, its grip still stroking his shaft as his hips bucked. "Can’t.. Hold it in..I.." he choked on his words, his head launching back into the cushion of his sofa. 

His hips locked, and seed erupted from his cock. Its warm fluid flowed like lava from an active volcano, a creamy stream filling his shorts as another drenched the corners of the chamber. He huffed as he regained control of his body, looking down to his member. its meaty length throbbed against his inner thigh, satisfied as it returned to its flaccid state.

In his weak stare, he looked to his bulging sac, the swollen orbs drooping over the side of the couch. "You kinky bastard.." he huffed softly, staring at the right nut that rocked slowly.

Inside, the pond had all but drained from inside the chamber, reduced to a hollow husk as fluid dressed the walls in webs. Stuck against the ceiling, Peppe remained, smothered by a wad of gunk as it dripped to the bottom of the chamber.

"I told ya..I wasn't finished." He smiled weakly, peeled from the ceiling as if he were a sticker. The chamber softened his fall, as it rocked slowly.. "How'd your game go?"

Hogan looked toward the screen, bits of his fluid dripping from the corners of the frame. Banter boomed from the microphone, gamertags from both his team and the opposite team flashing,

"Eh, they’ll.” he said. "Really wanted to get that streak. Was gonna get it too, until a twerp decided to get frisky.

"oo bummer." Peppe said. “Guess it goes to show you can’t shove something in your balls and not expect consequences.”

A flick shook the testicle. "Don't be so high and mighty, Dumpling. You're still in punishment time. But since you saved me the trouble of unloading in there, it’s only fair you do your part in making it.”

“You want me to make the pool all over again, didn’t you just climax?” Peppe asked, picking up a soft huff from the walls. “Wait a second, you’re not trying to get me to build up all that just for you to enjoy it personally?”

“I..I have no idea what you’re talking about. It’s simply a fitting punishment for a brat like you.” he said. “Just be sure to rub them deep. So..so I’ll know if you’re doing your task.”

Peppe places his hands at his hips. “Uh huh, sure.” he traveled through the mush  of seed toward the wall, reaching at a palm as he scratched at its surface. The chamber jostled in place, heavy thumps returning as they shook the walls.

“Oo..just a little to the right..”

“Do you want me to pleasure you with both my hands, Hogan?”

“Yeah..Er! I mean no-”

“Hah, gotcha. You’re totally into this!”

“Why you little-..this is supposed to be punishment. You’re not supposed to be enjoying this!”

“It’s not like I’m going anywhere. If I’m gonna be put to work, I might as well have fun with it, right? Oo! Now that I think about it, this space is just enough to bounce around it.”

“Dumpling, I forbid you to even try- Mm! No stop-mm..eassy in there!”

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

I LOOOOVE Ur Alfie fics. Could u do just general headcannons about being married and starting a family with him? ❤️

Hi bb!!! Im so glad you like them! I hope you enjoy these HCs, I know I kind of went overboard! Maybe I’ll do a continuation?? Maybe I’ll focus on different aspect of life with him? Idk we’ll workshop it. As always, sending all my love 💕💕💕

Married Life with Alfie Solomons - HCs

In planning the wedding, you initially were planning on a small wedding. Nothing too extravagant, just close family and a party at the house.

That’s what you planned anyway. It grew and grew with every family member that “HAD to come treacle!” Both of your families are rather large and extended. Mixed with business associates that had to be invited for sake of peace… it exploded into a 200 person affair.

Despite the fact that Alfie prefers to not be disturbed, it ended up being a grand affair. Drinks flowed. Laughter was raucous. The dancing never stopped! And there were only 3 fights, which Alfie involved himself in only 2 of them. Needless to say, it went rather well!

But your favorite part of the night above all was when you got home. Still giggling and warm from the party, you’re pulled into the parlor by your darling Alfie. Shirt half done, and hair a disaster, he looks so so handsome. His eyes so soft, he puts on the radio, bringing you in close to him, “Mrs. Solomons… would you give an old man a dance?”

And you do. Song after song, twirling around the parlor, enjoying the life that had a new layer of meaning.

Despite Alfie’s insistence that you shouldn’t keep working because, “No love of mine should be lifting a finger.” You kept your job at the distillery as his secretary and head of the jewelry shop. You insisted to Alfie that keeping your job that still made you feel like your own person, not just Alfie’s spouse.

There was something so intimate and special in waking up every morning with him, walking to the office with him, going through the work day, and coming home with him. If Alfie was clingy before, it had only grown worse since your nuptials. He loved having you near. He never wanted you away from his side.

Though the mornings were sweet, the evenings were by far your favorite with Alfie. Coming home, drawing the curtains closed to hide away in your own little oasis of solitude and quiet.

Instead of leaving you to do all the cooking and cleaning for the evening meal like other men of the time, Alfie stays wrapped close to your apron strings. As you craft a soul warming meal, he stays chopping and cutting, washing up the dishes as you go to ensure that the evening is free of any impediments.

Alfie takes Shabbat incredibly seriously. He is on a strict schedule on those days, and actually forbids you from working on Fridays, to let you prepare anything needed for the Sabbath. Many times your family joins you in your home, and Alfie takes the lead in prayers. Though you didn't think it was possible, your heart grows with adoration each time you watch him quietly go through the ritual. Watching his devotion and care to the faith and your people's history reminds you of the type of man he his.

Marriage with Alfie does not come without some arguments. It is Alfie Solomons. Both of you stubborn and passionate, it’s what makes you a formidable force together, but it also brings some… loud outbursts.

It usually is about whether or not he’s being wise in his decisions. But it also comes out when he thinks you’re not being careful. When a jealous flare rises up in him. Or just when he gets a little snippy.

But it doesn’t take much to make up. Once you and Alfie have let it all out, either one of you will go to the other and bridge the gap. When he’s particularly cross, all it takes is for you to find him in his favorite chair. Lean over the back of it, draping your arms across his neck. “I’m so sorry Alfie,” you whisper in his ear, a particular weakness, “I know you’re just looking out for me. Forgive me?” A few kisses in his neck and he’ll be dragging you into his lap, grumbling about how much of a vicious siren you are.

When you’re cross… Alfie pulls out all the theatrics. He comes to your room where you’ve holed up, seething. He gets on his knees, taking your hand in his, “Awe treacle… have pity on an old man. I’m sorry my love, I am. Don’t punish me too harshly now! Please give you husband a kiss yeah? This life is so short! Let’s not go to bed angry my love!”

And of course you forgive him. How can you not when he kisses you so sweetly, and begs so beautifully.

It will be a few years before you and Alfie have children. Alfie was worried that he wouldn’t be a good father due to his age, but in his heart of hearts he wanted little ones. He yearned to play with the kids on the floor with the dogs. To swing them around in the garden. Watch you be an incredible mother. Though he was afraid, you knew he would be the perfect father.

Once you both confessed your mutual desire for kids, it happened shockingly quickly. But is anyone really shocked? Alfie is determined and disciplined above all else.

Once you do get pregnant, Alfie does put his foot down. You are not coming into the office. It is far too dangerous for you to be coming in around all 'that business'. And Alfie heard from someone (he made it up) that working isn't good for birthing or babies.

He benches you for the entire pregnancy, and brings his former housekeeper Sarah out of retirement to help tend to you.

Every night Alfie would come home with something new for you. Brilliant and fragrant flowers. A sweet from the bakery. A new necklace or bracelet that you just had to have. "Growing a baby is hard work love! Especially with my kids! Big ol brutes growing in there eh?"

Whenever you became shy or uncomfortable about your changing body, Alfie would just croon in your ear, "Oh my love, you are absolutely radiant. An angel from God yeah? No no, a goddess. You're an absolute goddess yeah?" He'll rub your swollen feet as you cry, kissing your ankles as you release your stress and worries about the day.

As you can imagine... naming the baby (or babies as he liked to remind you of the possibility) was an incredible ordeal. No name was suitable.

"No no, he'll get hit. If I knew a little boy with that name in school, I would decimate him." "Now treacle that doesn't even sound good with Solomons!" "Mmm no. I don't like the meaning of the name. Not a good omen." "Can't do that name. I killed a man with that name."

After six days!! You both are able to come to an agreement. Joseph for a boy. Chava, after his mother. In the evenings, Alfie takes to reading to the baby, referring to them by both names. "Alfie dearest, there's only one in there!" "No no treacle. I know they're both in there. You may only feel one, but that's because Joseph is just a little shy ain't you my boy? Chava is going to be a little spitfire, just like her mum. They're in there, I know they are."

At night, Alfie pulls you to his side as he always does, with a protective hand splayed over your swollen belly. It's getting harder for you to sleep at night, so many times you lie awake, staring at your husband, running your own hand over your stomach, feeling the kicks and turns.

The prospect of twins is near impossible. But Alfie... he is so certain. And sometimes... sometimes you feel an extra flutter. An extra bit of energy that is almost missed.

The labor is hard. Long. Your mother comes to help along with Sarah and the midwife, and you had never felt pains like that before. Despite Sarah's admonishment, Alfie pushes himself into the room, wanting to be right next to you the entire time. He never leaves your side, brushing the sweat off your brow, kissing your head, reminding you how strong you are.

After 12 hours of labor, Joseph finally makes his appearance in the world. A large baby, with fat cheeks and long limbs. After a few announcing cries, Joseph settles into the arms of his father, fast asleep after his long journey. Alfie rejoices with you, holding up his son with joy, "Joseph! My boy! Welcome my son!"

You smile, a final sense of relief washing over you, until you feel another push coming.

7 minutes later, Chava comes careening into Earth, as loud as the choirs of heaven. Alfie catches Chava, marveling at how such a little body can produce such a sound. As Alfie cleans her face he just whispers, "This one... she will be an opera star."

Alfie joins you in bed once everything is settled. You spend the rest of the evening in and out of sleep. When awake you and Alfie just take turns holding the babies, marveling in how precious they are. How absolutely beautiful they are. While you sleep, Alfie walks around the house with both in his arms, just talking to them.

“Now you might not know this yet my angels… but you have the absolute best mother in the world. No I know, I don’t know how I got to marry her. But she is perfect. The best. We gotta protect her yeah?”

Alfie is the one who gets up in the night. Doesn’t want you to do more than you have to. And you’re already doing so much. Plus, he feels like he missed so much already, waiting till he was older to have a family and all. He doesn’t want to miss a single moment.

Alfie becomes even more soft and tender with you. Each morning he starts his day worshipping you almost. Telling you how much he loves you, how much he loves your children, how much he would give to protect you.

But he does become more paranoid about the dangers surrounding him. There’s two men posted at the door of the house at all times now, and you aren’t to go anywhere without either him or another trusted member of the gang. Though you fought him on it at first, you relented when you saw the palpable fear in his eyes.

He loves to show off the kids. He’s just so proud. He loves how much they look like you. “Better for them eh treacle? Glad they got the more beautiful out of the two.”

And while they did favor your features, they both carried Alfie’s eyes. Both gentle Joseph and powerful Chava carry that roaring ocean behind those dark lashes that brought you to Alfie all those years ago.

As the years go by, you only grow to love each other more and more. And every risk and every trial is worth the beautiful dream you get to have with Alfie.

[timotey]

This is absolutely precious, they were asked about what impressed them on each other, and it's really long so I will cut the translation, but the sweetest moment? At -2:00! Billy talks about how much he likes Babe being just... Babe and talking and dancing etc. and Babe reacts to that:

Babe: But you're so quiet. Billy: But I look. Babe: You're quiet like you don't even care. Billy: But I'm looking at you.

That's just! My heart grew three sizes, it honestly did. Billy is such an introvert. And that Babe never realized until then that Billy might be quiet but he sees him? Gosh... 🥺

Billy: Seriously​, I like when he enjoys what he does Such as, the morning, dancing in the morning, Dancing while putting on makeup. I saw the look in his eyes. He was happy to dance or even walk around and talk to others like he was a village headman on set. Babe: But you're so quiet. Billy: But I look. Babe: You're quiet like you don't even care. Billy: But I'm looking at you. Billy: Look or not, because I'm not yet awake. Babe: Is it real? Billy: It's his charm when he talks and is himself. When he talks to someone and chitchat. He is a very fun person to talk to. When he's chitchating He tends to have strange words. Babe: Words. Billy: Words that are enjoyable to listen to. It looks happy. I was more and more impressed from the beginning when he was the blond guy who asked me if Did you won the lottery? Babe: For me, I was impressed, in the beginning that Billy's attempts to get to know me. There's a little funny, During that time it was a workshop period. Then everyone came to practice. At that time, our relationship with all of our friends was not yet close. And then he wants to spend time with me outside of schedule. He tried to invite me to eat But because there is no time. So he tried to make arrangements. He clearly liked to arrange. He is a very arranged person, which I have neglected to arrange like this for a long time, And I came to found him "We have to go to class at 3 p.m. We'll be here at 2:30 p.m. I will leave at 2.20 p.m." I feel like, eh, why is it so detailed? Billy: Just went to eat together nearby. Babe: Went to eat, went to eat together near a gas station. Nearby the workshop place. We went out to eat together. I came and he came over And then we went together.

(Source of vid and transl.)

[alarici]

(mention of purging as in the ed kind)

ballet au overtook me

ballerinas, apprentices—lowest rung of the company—mello and near are understudies together and lie on each other’s backs in the mornings and mello isn’t the one that puts glass in near’s pointe shoes. near is the one who warns mello about the artistic director, four times before it happens. in every class, every corps role, every workshop they are pitted against each other and it takes until they’re sixteen for it to show in the way they stand opposite each other. you used to be such good friends. near hates mello’s boyfriend. mello dances firebird with a broken foot and bites down on her own knuckles after the banquet. they’re frequently nasty and often inseparable and the company circles them like fish in a barrel. the ballet masters know that this is a duet that needs its hatred, are perplexed by the depth of its care. the rehearsal schedule for Sleeping Beauty goes up on a Thursday in February.

[bluegekk0]

I can't find the ask but what does everyone's day to day activities look like? Like for an example, fpk waking up, talking Lewk to school and then tinkering in the workshop before hunting.

Ooooh this is actually such a fun ask to answer, let me think.

Will put under a read more cause it's very long haha

---

FPK - he wakes up usually much later than Grimm, they both go to sleep late but Vyrm isn't much of an early bird compared to Grimm. If it's school day, he gets up earlier to help Lewk get ready, and walks him there if it's his turn (though if it's Grimm's turn, he'll often join him as well, it makes Lewk very happy when they both take him to school). Then it's time for the twins' breakfast, which consists of soft meat and mashed fruits. He takes care of them, giving them cuddles and playing with them, until they go back to sleep.

Afterwards, he eats breakfast himself - usually there are some leftovers in their fridge (or whatever they use for that purpose) from whatever Hornet caught/gathered so often times he doesn't need to go hunting himself. However, if there's no food left or he's craving fresh raw meat, he prepares to go hunting - usually leaving his cloak at home so it doesn't get damaged. He eats a lot when he hunts, which means he usually doesn't have to eat again for the next day or two. After he returns to Dirtmouth, he takes a shower to wash off any blood and dirt, puts on his cloak (either the old gray cloak or his casual cloak, though he prefers the latter) and then usually goes to the workshop.

Most of his work is orders from Dirtmouth folk, be it fixing some mechanism or crafting something for them, so once he does that, he either takes the time to wait for them to pick up their order, or visits them at their house if he feels like he needs a walk. If he's busy with a specific project it's not rare for him to disappear in the workshop until late in the day, but most often he will take breaks to spend some time with the family members who are currently at home, or take a walk around Dirtmouth to see what everyone is up to.

Lewk's school doesn't last long so he'll pick him up if Grimm is at work. If Lewk is hungry, they usually visit Ogrim's diner place to order something, and either eat there or take it back home. Once that is done, it's usually nap time for Lewk, though Vyrm often joins him. That's how Grimm usually finds them after returning from his work, napping on the couch. Then FPK returns to his workshop and stays there until late in the evening.

Near te end of the day, the family often gathers in the living room to relax by the fireplace, and Vyrm sometimes falls asleep cuddled to Grimm, especially if he's listening to Grimm's stories from work or his travels. Grimm then either wakes him up or carries him to bed so they can both go to sleep. Otherwise, he usually stays up very late, especially if he's busy with something in the workshop. He has to get reminded of the time, after which he will go to bed and join Grimm, who's often already asleep by that time.

---

Grimm - his schedule is probably one of the least consistent in the family. He will either go to work at the Troupe, stay at home, or occasionally visit the city. There is a work schedule he usually sticks to, but since he's the one who made it in the first place, he'll often change it on a whim.

If he works, he wakes up earlier to get ready, gives Vyrm and the kids a little goodbye kiss, and then leaves. The Troupe is usually on its feet very early in the day, so by the time he gets there, he can get right to work. Most often he takes part in the rehearsals, either as a supervisor or as part of it. The performances are theatre-like in nature, with individual roles, performed scenes, or even circus-like shows with magic tricks, dancing, special effects and such. There's choreography, acting, directing, and many other things Grimm has to supervise to make sure the quality is the best it can be, and if he partakes in one of the roles, he also has to make sure he's giving it his best.

There is also a lot of organization included, he assigns the Grimmkin to each role in the performances, as well as plans their travels so that they can perform in other lands and return before their link to his Nightmare King self weakens, to avoid potential side effects. If he's taking part in the performance, it means he has to plan his journey, including the entire schedule and the fastest routes so that he can return home soon. And if it's time for him to replace his body, he also makes preparations for the rituals, picking the time and place it will occur. Very often he schedules the ritual to happen close to the performance he's a part of, so that he can kill two birds with one stone and only travel once, even if it means he's replacing his body while it's still in a good condition.

Because of the organization in the Troupe, he periodically has to deal with a lot paperwork - reports from performances, the earnings, the training results of each Grimmkin novice, promotions and so on. He either handles it while he's at the Troupe, or packs it up and takes it back home to work on it there. Regardless of which he chooses, his work days are very busy and once he returns home he usually takes the time to rest - it's not uncommon to find him napping on the couch or even passed out at the desk with all the paperwork. Sometime during the day he will eat, usually some fruit with tea, unless he decides to visit Ogrim or Hornet prepares a meal at home.

If he decides to stay home all day, he usually spends that time with the kids. For example, he prepares Lewk for school during school days and walks him there, those are the days where it's his turn. He also looks after the twins, keeping them company even while they sleep. Aside from that, he frequently checks what Vyrm is doing at the workshop, or what Holly is up to, or even takes walks around Dirtmouth (joining Vyrm during his breaks). He occasionally visits the traveling merchant carts on the other side of the town, either to buy something or act intimidating for his own amusement.

Once or twice between every ritual, he travels to the City in search of blood to drink. This happens either when he himself chooses to, or after he gets a letter from Lurien informing him of a target he wants eliminated. Regardless which one it is, he goes there, locates the target, and quickly leaves after getting his dose of blood. If the blood was a "bounty reward", he informs Lurien's guards that the job is finished, and then promptly returns home. He takes a shower afterwards and washes his cloak if necessary, and then his day continues as if nothing happened.

He often stays up quite late in the day to read and then waits for Vyrm to join him. Sometimes he goes to the workshop to remind him that it's late, and then they both return to bed. Other times they decide to spend some private time while the others are asleep, be it at their bedroom or Grimm's private room at the Troupe buildings. Grimm is usually the first one to fall asleep, though if Vyrm is feeling anxious, he will stay up until the latter has calmed down and fallen asleep.

---

Hornet - she's the first one to wake up, after which she quickly gets ready and leaves for her morning patrol around Dirtmouth and the neighboring regions. She takes her needle and some hunting/gathering gear to collect food, she checks the animal traps she left the day before to see if she caught anything, and then she brings everything she gathered back home. Since she spends the first half of the day on her own, she often makes a little campfire and cooks some food for herself before heading to Dirtmouth.

Occasionally she will plan a trip to Deepnest to visit Midwife, and whenever that happens she wakes up even earlier than usual, long before the sun rises (though with how cloudy it is most of the time, she doesn't really pay attention to it). She either tells someone she's going to be away for the entire day or two, or leaves a note at the door if everyone is still asleep at the time.

Otherwise, she returns home sometime around noon, bringing all the food she gathered to the kitchen and preparing it. She is quite fond of cooking so she usually prepares a soup or a different meal for the others, and then puts everything else in the fridge (she leaves some raw meat for Vyrm since she knows how much he enjoys it). She lets the others know that food is ready, and then disappears in her room.

She spends a lot of time maintaining her needle and tools, as well as reading. If she's feeling especially social, she takes the book and moves to the living room and sits on the couch, so that the others can join her or talk to her as they walk by. Occasionally she visits Holly's room to see what they're up to, and if they're not there, she heads out to the outside garden or Bretta's house as that's where she usually finds them. She hangs out with them, usually sitting on the side in silence, though she occasionally joins them when they decide to play a game or do something else that catches her attention. Then they return home together.

If Grimm and FPK are busy, she looks after the twins and Lewk, often helping the latter with school homework and playfighting with him. When he inevitably gets exhausted and falls asleep next to her or on her lap, she patiently waits there until Grimm or Vyrm get him to bed. The twins sleep for most of the day, so she just checks on them to make sure they're doing okay and feed them or play with them if they need it. She's a pretty good babysitter all things considered, though she does get irritated pretty easily.

Like Vyrm and Grimm, she's fond of taking walks around the town, though she's not as social as they are, so it's more to just kill time and get some fresh air instead of socializing. When it gets dark (well, darker) she comes back home and gets some food, usually just grabbing a fruit or some leftovers from the previous meal.

While she does join the family gatherings whenever those take place, she usually spends the rest of the day reading in her room, and just like the previous two, frequently stays up very late. Eventually she does fall asleep, though she often forgets to take off her clothes and just passes out on the bed.

---

Holly - they wake up just before Grimm, so they often hear him get ready for work. They leave their room to wave goodbye to him, and then wait for their father to wake up.

In the meantime, they keep themselves busy. They enjoy tidying up the house, they like when things are in order, plus seeing the others' positive reaction makes them happy. They'll organize the pillows in the living room, wipe the dust from the furniture, and wash the dishes left from the day before. If Vyrm hasn't woken up by then, they go outside to tend to their little garden.

After their dad is finally up, Holly makes sure to greet him and help him if he's preparing Lewk for school. After that, they join him during breakfast, and if he decides to go hunting, they look after the twins while waiting for him. Once he returns, they accompany him in the workshop for a bit. This usually involves him checking their prosthetic arm and tweaking things if necessary - they sit and watch as he tinkers with it, and attentively listen to him describing exactly what he's doing. Once that is done, they leave him to his work, and either go to their room or meet up with Zote and visit Bretta.

At their room they spend some time drawing or sewing, making sure to keep things tidy and organized, a stark contrast to Vyrm's disorganized workshop (which they try to keep tidy from time to time, but more often than not it ends with him unable to find something because Holly put it somewhere else, so they leave it alone as much as the mess bothers them).

When they visit Bretta, they always take their sketchbook or sewing supplies, neatly packed into a little bag. Then they hang out at her house, sketching things inspired by her new writing, listening to her ideas and giving her feedback (written on little notes she then adds to her writing drafts). If they planned to make plushies, that's what they focus on - Bretta's got a lot of skill with that so they ask her for advice and feedback on their craft. They also often play board games together with Zote, and if Hornet passes by after returning from her patrol, she'll occasionally join them as well.

They return home as the evening approaches, eat dinner, and then wait in the living room for the others to gather there. They greet Grimm when he returns from work, and spend some time with Lewk. Very often he approaches them with his drawings, and asks them for help with coloring them, which they gladly accept. If everyone else joins, they spend time with them, listening to Grimm's stories and trying to keep Zote from starting fights with Hornet.

They're usually the first to leave to sleep, since unlike the others, they keep a consistent sleep pattern - they find comfort in schedules so they try to stick to it whenever they can.

---

Zote - he doesn't live at the family house (he has his own little hut quite a few houses away from theirs), so his morning routine doesn't involve any of them. He wakes up quite early, eats breakfast and polishes Life Ender so that it's in top shape (despite being a wooden nail, but if you say that to his face he'll bite you).

Then he leaves to take a walk around the town, sometimes descending into the Forgotten Crossroads. If he doesn't get himself killed, he returns to Dirtmouth and visits the merchant carts, particularly the ones selling gems and trinkets from other lands, boasting about how he's seen them in person before and that they're worth far more than what they're being sold for (he's making things up, shocker). After he inevitably gets shoo'd away, he begrudgingly heads towards the Vyrm house to meet up with Holly.

After that, they visit Bretta, and Zote hangs out with them, occasionally making fun of them for doing "girly things" or commenting on their work acting like he's knowledgeable on the subject. He joins any board game they play and more often than not loses, making a big fuss about it.

Once evening approaches, Zote joins Holly as they return home, and usually hangs out there until the end of the day, staying for dinner (Hornet always leaves some fruit and other non-meat food for him for that occasion) and joining the rest of the family as they gather in the living room. After adding his three cents to every story Grimm tells, he leaves after Holly heads to their room, and returns to his house. He gently places Life Ender on the table next to his bed, and goes to sleep.

---

Lewk - on school days, he gets up before Vyrm and even before Grimm, usually being the one to wake them up in excitement. School in Dirtmouth doesn't happen daily, since Quirrel is the only teacher, he gives them lessons whenever he's in Dirtmouth - they happen once or twice a week, on a somewhat regular basis.

His fur needs some maintenance before he can leave the house, so FPK takes the time to brush it and make sure it's all tidy, very often the morning routine includes giving Lewk a bath. Then he eats breakfast, and after that he packs for school. School preparations are simple, he takes a notebook and some crayons, puts them in a small bag alongside some lunch, and then walks there with Vyrm, Grimm or both of them. The school most closely resembles a preschool, so the classes consist of Quirrel teaching them history and culture, reading lessons as well as some group activities, usually art related. All very simple so that it's easy for the kids to comprehend.

He meets with his friends (I don't have designs or names for them yet, but I imagine it's a small group, probably two or three excluding him) and together they enter the school building and sit in a circle around Quirrel. Lewk is very attentive and listens to everything Quirrel says, though he still struggles with reading and writing.

After the classes are over, he hangs out at school for a little bit with his friends, and once the parents start showing up, he patiently waits for his dads to pick him up. The school isn't too far from their house, but he's still very young and doesn't feel brave enough to walk there himself (besides, FPK and Grimm want him to be safe above everything, so they prefer to keep an eye on him).

Once he gets home, he usually takes a nap until Grimm returns home. He's still young so he sleeps a lot, though after each nap he gets a huge energy boost and can be a bit much. He excitedly tells his dads about what he was up to at school, asks Holly or Hornet for help with his homework, and plays with Zote (though in Zote's point of view it looks more like pestering). Once he gets tired, he curls up on someone's lap and falls asleep, waiting for Grimm or Vyrm to pick him up and tuck him into bed.

If he doesn't have school, he hangs out at the house, usually accompanying FPK in his workshop, or Grimm if he's at home. Sometimes he spends the day under Divine's care alongside the twins, if there's no one else to look after him. Then the day continues as usual, he returns home and goes to sleep fairly early. Sometimes if he can't sleep he will ask Grimm and Vyrm if he can cuddle with them, to which they agree with no hesitation.

---

Asta and Milo - this one's going to a bit repetitive, as they don't really do much during the day since they're basically like very young kittens. In the morning, they get up and eat breakfast given to them by Vyrm (or Grimm if he's taking a day off). After that, Asta usually wants to play, while Milo sits on the side and watches, hugging his Tiktik stuffed toy. They inevitably get tired and go back to sleep.

They wake up at random points during the day, and if they're alone, they cry out for attention until someone comes into the room and stays with them. That being said, most of the time there is someone at home who babysits them, so they're rarely left by themselves. FPK looks after them during his breaks, as does Holly and Grimm whenever he's not working, and Hornet after returning from her patrol. They get fed multiple times during the day, and most of the time they either sleep or playfight. If there's no one to babysit them, Grimm approaches Divine to ask her to look after them, which she is more than happy to do. Under her care, the twins like to watch her and her crew at work from the little bed in the corner of her office, especially Asta, since Milo tends to just sleep.

They join the family during their gatherings, either watching whatever is happening or sleeping on Grimm's or Vyrm's lap. After that, they are moved to their bed and tucked in. They occasionally wake up in the middle of the night and cry for their dads, Milo in particular as he often gets scared and wants to be cuddled. In those cases, they often join Grimm, Vyrm and Lewk in a cuddly pile, and fall asleep surrounded by warmth and love.

---

Ohhh man now that's a wall of text huh. Thank you so much for this ask, this was so fun to answer!! I tried to make the formatting a bit easier to read through, I hope it's not too bad! Also apologies if there's any typos or inconsistencies - though I suppose the latter could be explained by their schedules varying every day haha

[liminal-storage]

IV- The Emperor

Prompt: Halcyon

Characters: Cygni Marlowe, Florian Marlowe

Content Warnings: None.

"Grand-père? Are you in here?"

"Back here, Cygni. Have a care where you step." The workshop was a marvel, a wonderland of modern innovation. Crowded and cluttered and smelling faintly of mechanical grease, and a six-year-old Cygni Marlowe's favorite place in the entire world.

Stepping past spinning gears and winding spirals of copper tubing, and careful not to kick the boxes of bolts and spare parts, little Cygni sought out the back of the shop where her grand-père Florian sat. Light streamed in through a massive, gorgeously-fashioned window. Half regular clear glass and half a deep, emerald-stained glass, Florian liked to take afternoon tea at the window and watch the birds flying over the street below. And it just so happened that he always had a spot open for her.

Weathered but sturdy hands lifted stacks of papers and books out of the way so that his little granddaughter could sit, skirts tucked properly and demurely into place. Her white-blonde hair caught the warm afternoon sunshine, bright eyes dancing with happiness as her grand-père fixed tea in a delicate cup painted with pink roses.

It looked out of place in the dusty workshop full of copper piping and model dirigibles. Small and dainty and very floral, the teacup nevertheless bore signs of wear, use, and love. A tiny chip in the ceramic near the handle. Flecks of missing glaze. A small crack in the matching saucer. Like the girl they belonged to, the cup and saucer had their own special place in the workshop.

Florian presented little Cygni with a tin, which upon opening revealed a colorful variety of baked culinary masterpieces. She made her selection and set it upon her saucer...not entirely appropriate, but Florian was never one to scold his grandchildren. In this space and in these moments, he would give them what little peace he could offer.

Cygni lifted her tea with her pinky raised, and grand-père mimicked her.

"So, little swan. Tell me about your day."

[tina-aumont]

I finally met the great love of my life, the most accomplished, the most complete, the quintessence of all my amorous wanderings. It’s thanks to Tina Aumont, the daughter of illustrious Maria Montez. I was back in France after living in Miami for about seven years. My wife, Nicole, had arranged a home for me with her mother, Jeanne. It was temporary, at least for me. I was in a bad state. I had just narrowly saved my left leg and the treatment had taken over my savings. I had no idea what I was going to do or even what I wanted to do. The only positive point of my forced return to France was to be at home, in my country, in my hometown.

The only one who was delighted to welcome me was Tina who lived in social housing near Belleville. It was an indescribable mess, clothes everywhere, magazines, the sink always full of dirty dishes from several days and the bathroom difficult to use. I was supposed to clean at Grandma Jeanne's house, but ultimately it was at Tina's house. I went to see her every other day and sometimes I even slept on the sofa, after cleaning up. She was delighted, we shared our memories, I sang to her Bob Dylan which she loved and despite her emphysema, she seemed happy.

Tina has experienced all kinds of tragedy in her life, ups and downs like all of us but hers were very intense. The premature death of her illustrious mother when she was only five years old left her alone in the world. Her father Jean-Pierre was far too busy with his life, his career and later, his new love affair with Marisa Pavan who hated Tina and did everything to keep her away from her father. Then at just senventeen years old she married the worst man, Christian Marquant! It was he who plunged her into the world of drugs. This narcissistic man destroyed all chances for Tina to have a normal life. She became trapped, for lack of love and also to escape her family who had neglected her and left her floating in the wind. This emotional lack certainly favored the excesses to which she indulged throughout her life. Claude Olievenstein who founded the Marmottant hospital wrote in his book that he only knew one person with whom he could do nothing to get her out of the hell of addiction, Tina Aumont! I have seen her transform over the years in a dramatic way.

We were nine years apart and for me she was like a big sister. She came to see us and often spent the night with us, my mother and my two brothers. It was always a great joy for me, she always had a little something to give me, you know how children are, they love being given gifts. My mother loved her very much and did everything to make her life easier. And then, Tina always had stories to tell, her last shoot or the one that was to come. Tina was a tornado in our life, we didn't see each other much because she was always on the move but each visit left me exhilarated.

We lost touch, she was living in London with her horrible husband and her acting career was really starting to take off. We met again when she started her life with Frédéric Pardo, I was twelve years old. I remember coming to their apartment and singing Bob Dylan on Frédéric's guitar. I liked him, firstly because Tina liked him and then his sensitivity touched me. Then they left for Italy and I never saw Frédéric again.

So I found Tina when I returned from the United States. After all her glory days, her incredible trips, her excessive parties, and all that drugs. She had finally calmed down, she still smoked despite her emphysema and lived almost in poverty. The city had allocated her social housing and a pension, just enough to live on! Fortunately, we were able to offer her a few moments of joy, for example the New Year's Eve dinner in 2002. Blaise, Tina's last companion, brought her to the workshop where I lived with Nathalie. It was an excellent evening with all our friends, we sang, we danced and I think that for one evening she was happy.

***

Very touching moments in Tina's life explained by someone who was very close to her. I want to thank this person so much for sharing the memories lived with Tina, it's much appreciated. Merci beaucoup!!

[ladydoesfieldwork]

Leg rattles in southern African music

Question (@culmaer): I've been slowly making my way through Percival Kirby's book on South African instruments (published in 1934), and I assume the spellings he uses for words from the various 'Khoisan' languages are ad hoc, phonetic transcriptions and not the standardised spellings in use today. part of me was hoping there was maybe a contemporary survey of instruments, or perhaps just easily accessible dictionaries/word-lists I could go through to check the spellings he uses

Kirby mentions ankle rattles made of springbok ears of the "Qung Bushmen" and cites the name from Bleek and Lloyd's Bushman Folk-lore as |keriten. I assume by Qung he means !Kung, but I'm not sure how similar !Kung and |Xam are, or if Kirby is making an attribution error ? nevertheless, are you able to verify that name and spelling ?

then, I'm particularly curious about a springbok horn flute, per Kirby, "used by the Kalahari Bushmen near Haruchas, SWA, [which] they call |garras or |garris" as well as a similar instrument used by the "Berg-Dama" called ǂnunib, although their version apparently stopped the horn with wood to create a more specialised embouchure, which I would love more details on. are these instruments still played ?

!Xun (<!Kung>) and |Xam belong to different language families: !Xun is a Kx’a language spoken along the northwestern Kalahari Basin fringe (northern Namibia, southern Angola, northwestern Botswana). |Xam was Tuu language of the !Ui subbranch which was spoken in the west of South Africa, all the way down to the Cape. |Xam went extinct during the first half of the 20th century, while !Xun is still a vibrant language with multiple dialects. !Xun and |Xam speakers were probably not in contact with each other in historical times, but received both influence from Khoekhoe herders (who speak an unrelated language of the Khoe-Kwadi family).

Kx’a and Tuu are resident language families exclusively spoken by foragers, while Khoe-Kwadi languages were introduced from the east around 2,000 years ago; at present, they are spoken by foragers (“Kalahari Khoe”) and herders (“Khoekhoe” and the extinct Angolan language “Kwadi”).

The ‘leg rattle’ word you cite here seems pretty widespread:

Interestingly, the root *ǀɢani (my reconstruction) is indeed distributed across all three families. The underlying uvular onset (uvularity is still visible in N|uu) is responsible for the sound changes /a/ > /u/ and /n/ > /r/. It is impossible to say which of the three families is the source and I am inclined to believe that this root may be very old and refer to a very widespread cultural practice (i.e., dancing with leg rattles) (this is not to say it is evidence for a “Khoisan” family; just for a very old contact area).

I wonder whether Kirby’s “|garras or |garris” ‘springbok horn flute’ is actually the same root. The word is certainly from Khoekhoe because it has the feminine singular suffix -s. The location where it was recorded, Haruchas, also seems Nama-territory to me, so I strongly doubt this was recorded among “Kalahari Bushmen”. Haacke & Eiseb (2002) have an entry <ǀgȁríb>  ‘quick grass, esp. Cynodon dactylon’, but that does not seem to make a lot of sense here - unless, of course, Kirby got confused and the word he lists actually denotes a grass flute. Damara  ǂnunib appears to be the standard Khoekhoe word for ‘flute, play flute’ (Haacke & Eiseb 2002: 415).

Leg rattles are still very common in many San and San-descendant groups from southern Africa. They are also used by some Bantu groups like the Tswana, probably due to influence from neighboring hunter-gatherers.

In the Botswanan San group I worked with for many years, leg rattles are especially used in ritual performances which are not meant for strangers to witness. However, I have videos from a cultural workshop in which a San group from Zimbabwe performs with leg rattles. I'll share the videos as soon as I am back in office next week.

The Khoekhoe flutes are, to the best of my knowledge, no longer used. I will make a post on that (and the terms associated with the flute ensembles) tomorrow.

[aroseyetbloomedwrites]

LFRP: Francel de Haillenarte

(Looking for: Contacts, friends, acquaintances, and more!)

The Basics:

Age: 25

Race: Elezen

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Queer

Marital Status: It may be Complicated now...

Physical Appearance:

Hair: Blond

Eyes: Blue. Oceanic

Height: 6'7.5"

Build: Slim and softly padded.

Personal:

Occupation: Overseer of the Reconstruction and Operation of the Firmament.

Hobbies: All things musical, namely; Piano, cello, and learning vertical keyed flute. Baking.

Residence: Ishgard, The Last Vigil, Haillenarte Manor

Religion: Halonic Orthodox/The Twelve.

For a Basic Profile:

Likes: Music. The Piano is his favorite, but he plays other instruments. Coffee. Sweets. Greenery and flora. Karakul & other such fauna.

Dislikes: Wine. Presumptuousness. Blizzards.

Strengths: Discerning. Attentive. Earnest. Honest. Tight-lipped.

Weaknesses: Idealistic. Talkative. Insecure. A bit nosy. He can be absent minded.

RP Hooks & Currently Looking For:

Investment Opportunities: Including business operations and entrepreneurs. The acquisition of business from the three major City States was an excellent exercise into what the new District could be, but now he would like to make sure success can grow from within. It was important to bring business back into Ishgard, starting with her people.

(If you are looking for High House connections, this may be your stop!)

Hint: Anything which may aid the Skysteel Workshop in the Firmament, and the Manufactory in the City Proper would also be a stepping stone.

Idea: He may also have a vested interest in baked goods, and sweets.

If you can get close enough: Not quite a rumor, as lord Francel has been hush-hush about it... A scene not dissimilar to the past; goods he had shipped in to the new district come in damaged with a pristine box. Leading him to believe in an outside source of sabotage. While not the leading reason behind why it's being built, he has become the face and driving force, with his leadership, steadily upsetting an internal, or external balance. Will he, and yours, be able to get to the bottom, or is there some aid which may be proffered? (this would be an extensive and cooperative endeavor, across many platforms, with intertwining stories.)

Low Stakes RP Hooks and Opportunities!

Would You Like To Dance?: Francel is, for all intents and purposes, a young lord, as such one would think him versed in the multitude of arts which may be related to music to some extent. Alas, since he was but a child, and despite many lessons, the habit of sneaking out and shirking such duty prevailed, and he wiles away the gala and gatherings in the gardens. He has two left feet now, is it possible then, that one could show him the way? Such world as he lives in, he can no longer get away with being a wallflower, or hidden away with his new public position.

Snowbank Blues: Does your character wander Coerthas? What about Ishgard's city proper? Lord Francel does; between Camp Dragonhead, and Skyfire Locks, as well as near to the ruins of the Steel Vigil and thus, Providence Point to a certain memorial with frequency... He does not always squirrel himself away, and one may find him praying in the cathedral, nestled in a bakery, or at those old encampments. Is that a look of melancholy as he wanders, and as he sits?

Ever Sleepless: The morning is subjective, right? This is said because lord Francel has little (a lot) of trouble sleeping. Is he up early? Or did he go to sleep late? If at all? He can be safely visited at odd hours. Does your character serve a lesser House which would be in contact with House Haillenarte? Lord Francel may just be the easiest contact to have, as a go-between, from their House, to His. Meetings of most any nature can be held in the late, or early mornings, and he will ever lend and ear to any plight with which he may be able to assist.

OOC Outlines & Communication

Hi there! Francel mun here, you can call me Francy, or Fran or other such variations as please you.

The muse and mun are 21+ and respectfully request all who approach to be.

My expectations are maturity, respect and communication. Such facets as I play Francel as, commanding of maturity and respect can be unlocked with our friendship and story progression! Communication is key.

I accept mature themes with communication, romance centric plots, angst, slice of life, adventure. Anything outlined in the hooks are a possibility. But do know, the hooks listed here are not all there is in the world of possibility! But if you are lost, they could be a starting point. I am open to all kinds of possibilities, and would love the chance to explore with you. Please know, interaction is NOT limited to just within Ishgard and Coerthas, he can travel abroad now! And will have to, from time to time, for business.

Response times vary, but I like to think I am very considerate of your time! I also write to match, most times. Short-form and long-form, or, from several sentence story lines, to multi length paragraph plots. Simplistic, or introspective. Flavors can change.

In-game roleplay is a little harder for me, but I do enjoy it, this will take some planning and cooperation.

First contact me here for communication purposes before we move to such platforms as Guilded, or Discord.

(divider by samspenandsword)

Hope I have done this right!

@mooglemeet

[silverskye13]

“I don’t know how to make friends,” Tanguish lamented to the bustling street in front of him. No one was listening, except maybe the bedraggled looking alley cat sitting on a nearby trash can. That was fine, because in all honesty, Tanguish didn’t want to be heard.

His plan had been simple in theory: wander innocently around some of the busiest places in hels, strike up a few conversations, and bam! New friends to show Tango. Except so far all Tanguish had done was stand in this alley watching people walk around, being mildly terrified. He was trying his best, really. It’s just, every time he manages to talk himself into stepping out into the street, he realizes just how many people are out there. And this is hels. Some of those people look really scary, or just generally like striking up a conversation is the last thing they’d ever want. So Tanguish danced on his feet nervously, waiting for a good opportunity to strike, and finding none. 

“I’ve never had to make friends before,” Tanguish whined to the cat currently licking an oily paw. “I always had Tango for that, you know?”

The cat continued grooming apathetically. Tanguish pulled his coin out of his pocket and looked down at his reflection. Tango. He wanted to ask his counterpart for advice -- or just hear his voice really. The reassurance would be nice. And he and Tango could workshop ideas, how best to approach the problem. Tango was good at talking to people. He was funny and charismatic, and really, so much better at this kind of thing than Tanguish was. He did the talking, the planning, the everything when they were together.

(Really it was kind of alarming how much Tanguish was realizing he had trouble thinking for himself. In theory he could do it. He did it all the time unintentionally! But trying to do it on command, right now, when he had no idea what to do--)

Tanguish sighed and slipped the coin back into his pocket. The whole reason he was doing this was because the more he relied on Tango -- and the more Tango relied on him -- the worse their situation was. Tanguish was on his own on this one. That was… fine. He’d been on his own before. He couldn’t really remember being on his own before but… it had happened at some point. Tanguish bounced on his toes, took in a few deep breaths, and willed himself to step out into the street. The cat on the trash can paused in its grooming to judge him silently.

“I’m working my way up to it,” Tanguish muttered placatingly. The cat twitched an ear and twisted into a knot to reach some patch of fur near the base of its tail. Tanguish huffed out another sigh and, gathering up what little bit of courage he had, walked into the street.

It was weird being on ground level and not stealing anything -- though the thought did cross his mind a few times. Mostly watches and chains, small trinkets he could feign having found to start up a conversation. It's just, he was used to running on rooftops. The ground seemed claustrophobic by comparison. Bumping into people was almost a foregone conclusion, and there were some people in hels who really didn't want to be bumped into! And Tanguish was bad with people. Even aside from the general awkwardness that came from not carrying normal conversation often, he just wasn't great at reading people. He knew Tango's mannerisms. He knew familiar sarcasm, and sparks in conversation, and the general assumption of good will and humor. The people he passed on the street were nothing like Tango. Here he passed a young lady bristling with swords who glared him down when he approached. There he passed a gentleman with soft features and a wicked iron crown, who gave off an aura of command. Tanguish stalked by the cart he normally stole baked goods from, and guilt stayed his hand and his tongue. What was he supposed to say to them? Hello! Its me, the vagrant who regularly steals your baked goods! Wanna be friends?

(He could say that. It would be a fantastic way of getting a hand taken off as punishment. For as rampant with theft as hels could be, it was punished heavily when it was caught.)

Tanguish lost track of the times he walked up and down the street, looking for someone at least generally on his level. He didn't lose track of the times he wished Tango were here though, wished he could ask his hermit for advice, or really just for a break in the tension. He palmed his coin and his arm itched with the insistence to use it, to just pop over into the other world and be done with the nerve-wracking experience of trying (and failing) to be known. And, really, why should he be known? The whole reason he was in this mess was because he was a bad friend. Well, a good friend, but in a bad way. Time consuming. Dependent. Needy. Appeasing.

Parasitic. 

Tanguish was starting to feel things again. Complicated things. Things that turned his guts in circles, and made his chest tight. 

(Things like: if he hurt Tango while being his friend, wouldn't he hurt someone else? Things like: the only reason he and Tango were friends at all was because they were made for each other, hermit and helsmit. Things like: what if he had no choice but to be Tango's friend? What if this was fate? What if, because hermits and helsmits were the way they were, Tango was the only one who had a choice and he'd made it. What if Tango -- player, stronger, made in a world meant to exist -- had decided for them who would come out of the struggle between hermit and helsmit, and no matter what Tanguish did -- helsmit, weaker, made in a world that was never meant to be in the first place -- it would make no difference. What if he was going to lose Tango anyway, because that's how the world was?)

Tanguish was feeling too many things, actually. Way too many things. It made his head spin. It got hard to breathe. It made him want to cry, and he was very frustrated -- another feeling he didn't want to feel -- because all these feelings were stopping him from the very important (and now, he feels, very pointless) task of trying to make friends to save Tango and---

Tanguish reclaimed his sense of self, not because he found a way to stop all the things he was feeling, but because, like all things in his life, he ran away from them. Tanguish ran down side alleys and back streets like he was being chased by Evil X himself. (Though, rumor held that Evil X could teleport, so if that were the case, it would be a failed race from the start.) He scrabbled over gates and slammed past people holding conversations and skittered onto rooftops and as soon as his feet hit deepslate and netherack tiles he felt like his lungs expanded three times wider. Tanguish ran and he breathed and he stopped thinking and feeling things until he circled back to his favorite rooftop, the big church near the fountain in the market. He climbed up familiar buttresses and gargoyles and scraped his palms on familiar roof tiles and he collapsed on the slope of the roof's tallest side, panting. 

Tanguish stared up at the glass and glowstone ceiling, and like an ache in his teeth, his feelings crept back to him again. Tanguish wanted to cry, or he wanted to throw up, or he wanted to do something physical to rip the feelings out of his guts. If he could just purge them somehow, he was sure he could figure out what to do. If he could just dump them on the roof tiles and leave them behind. If he could just do anything besides laying here gasping and panting and swallowing half-wretches and being overall incredibly pathetic over -- what? Not being able to figure out how to start a conversation? Not knowing how to act normal? He didn't talk to people he never could have imagined it would be this hard to do. There was too much weight attached, too high of stakes if he did it wrong. He didn't know what to do. 

(He was trying hard to remember how he and Tango became friends, but all he could remember was their first accidental meeting, and how Tanguish had been utterly silent his entire life, as far as he remembered, until Tango spoke first. That was the nature of hermits and helsmits surely. But there was no hermit here to speak first. No one who knew their thoughts and emotions well enough. No one with a firm hand and patient optimism to drag Tanguish along until he stumbled out of his shell. There was only hels, and the angry, bitter people inside it, all of them too busy worrying about their own borrowed time to help Tanguish with his.)

Tanguish lay on the roof, freaking out, watching gasts swirl so high in the cavernous ceiling they could've been clouds, and felt wretched and pitiful and hopeless.

(Tanguish was really, really starting to hate feelings. He needed Tango to hurry up and get stronger, so Tango could take over feeling things again. Tanguish desperately, desperately longed for the times in his life when things were simpler and he didn't feel feelings. How own despair over it all annoyed him, and he hated feeling feelings more.)

There was a knock on the roof. Not the knock of something falling, or people throwing rocks (People did that sometimes -- throw rocks at the churches in hels. There were a lot of people who thought breaking pretty glass was fun). It was a knock like knocking on a door, and Tanguish was so surprised by the unexpected noise, that for one entire heartbeat, he forgot to feel too many things at once, and just blinked confusedly at the sky. Then the knock came again, and Tanguish started searching for it. His eyes settled on the bell tower, and he saw Helsknight, looking as dour and serious as the gargoyles Tanguish had climbed past, his spiked armor mimicking the spines of their stone and deepslate wings. He was frowning (Helsknight was always frowning) in a way that suggested something like annoyance (annoyance was the most frequent emotion Helsknight seemed to feel -- at least, around Tanguish he did). Tanguish was used enough to Helsknight's expressions to know whatever the look was, it wasn't anger. Angry on Helsknight was subtle and sharp, like a blade sunk in something -- or someone.

(Angry Helsknight was something Tanguish wouldn't inflict on his worst enemy, much less himself, so it was very, very important he knew what that looked like.)

Tanguish slowly got to his feet, brushed off his shirt, and tried valiantly to pretend he was more put together than he actually was. Helsknight waved him over, scowling, and Tanguish sheepishly approached the bell tower, scrabbling clumsily up the bricks to perch on the railing. He figured Helsknight was about to yell at him for something, probably (Helsknight yelled a lot). Probably because he was on a church roof, and Helsknight was a knight of some church or another, and this was probably disrespectful to his knightly tenets, or something. Tanguish was halfway through coming up with some kind of excuse for being up here, when Helsknight spoke first.

"You alright?"

Well… that was unexpected. About as unexpected as Helsknight being here at all, to be honest. 

"Uhm… I think so?"

"Saw you running through town like a bat out of hels," the knight snorted, his expression somewhere between annoyance and disdain. "Figured I should make sure you weren't being chased by someone."

"Oh," was all Tanguish could think to say for a shamefully long time. He was still learning Helsknight. (Maybe disdain and annoyance was what worry looked like on someone covered in serrated plate mail?) 

Helsknight's lip curled in an expression that could have been disgust or impatience. "You going to tell me what that sprint was for, or are you going to make me drag it out of you?"

The way Helsknight said the word "drag" brought to mind the image of someone yanking a sword out of a body. Tanguish shuddered, and reminded himself that Helsknight's sword was firmly set in its sheath, the leather thong resting securely over its hilt to keep it from bouncing free during a run. (Tanguish, that he could remember, had never felt the business end of a sword, outside of the times he'd respawned too quick to really feel it. He thought maybe that's what drove his unease.)

"It was nothing."

"Well, glad I climbed all those stairs for nothing, then." Helsknight snapped, and kicked something at his feet. Tanguish realized there was a trap door in the floor of the bell tower, revealing a tightly curling staircase. Then he realized Helsknight was starting to step back down that staircase, and it suddenly struck Tanguish that, no matter how unpleasant company Helsknight might be, the last thing he wanted right now was to be alone. Better a bristly knight than being trapped on the roof to feel feelings again.

"Wait--" it was only when Helsknight batted Tanguish's hand away that he realized he'd reached a hand out to grab his shoulder. Tanguish gaped for a moment, not sure how to recover.

"Thorns," Helsknight told him matter-of-factly. Then, when he got no response, "My armor. It has thorns. The enchantment. Don't touch it."

"Oh." Tanguish stood there awkwardly for a moment, fidgeting beneath Helsknight's glare. It occurred to him belatedly that the knight was waiting for him to say something, so he mumbled, "Have you, uhm, ever been on a roof before?"

Helsknight raised an eyebrow at him in reply. 

"This one." Tanguish continued, trying to sound friendly, or at least not as weird as he felt. "Specifically."

"No."

"Do you… want to?" Tanguish asked falteringly, wincing at his own awkwardness. 

If Helsknight noticed, he ignored it, instead demanding: "Are you going to push me off?"

Tanguish tilted his head to the side questioningly. "Why would I do that?"

Helsknight waved a hand, gesturing to hels in general, as if to say pushing people off roofs was a thing that happened often. (It probably was something that happened, though probably not often enough to warrant so much suspicion.)

"I won't push you off," Tanguish promised. Even if he wanted to, he really doubted he could win in a fight against Helsknight and his thorns-enchanted armor. Helsknight studied him a moment longer before looking up towards the sky in a mental shrug and leaping smoothly over the banister. The drop down to the roof wasn't far, though he clattered like a tin can when his armor hit the tiles. Tanguish joined him, landing much more quietly. Helsknight steadied himself against the bell tower, taking in just how perilously high he was with a scowl that could've cut obsidian. 

Tanguish wandered along the spine of the roof, stepping with practiced ease around the spiked crockets that made gothic roofs look like they were baring their teeth at the sky. When he got to the far end of the roof he crouched, his tail twining around his legs, hunched like the gargoyles clinging to the buttresses. Helsknight joined him, swearing once or twice when his armored boot caught on the iron tipped shingles and nearly tripped him. He stood a step behind Tanguish, leaning over him to look down into the square, at the oil-black fountain in its center where people mingled and hawked their goods and gossiped. Helsknight made a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat as he watched, something thoughtful or approving, or maybe just a noise for the sake of making noise.

"This is where I used to respawn," Tanguish told him, feeling a bit nostalgic, and enjoying this feeling a lot more than his previous ones, "before I started sleeping on your couch anyway."

"Sounds…" Helsknight kicked at one of the iron roof spines experimentally. "Uncomfortable."

"It's a beautiful view though."

In the square, a group of rough looking helsmits jostled by, the street crowd parting for them like a rock in a river. They all sported half-moon circle tattoos on the side of their necks, marking them as some of Cleo's gang. Rumor had it when she had first started her crime ring, she had bitten every one of her henchmen. Something to do with her hermit being a zombie. Tanguish was pretty sure those were just rumors.

"Is anything beautiful in hels?" Helsknight asked melodramatically, his lip curling in disdain.

"I'm supposed to be making friends," Tanguish said, blurting out the words without really knowing why he said them. Probably because feelings were starting to crawl back across him again, and he was desperate to get them out. "Me and Tango have this deal and -- well, I'm bad at it."

"Is that what this is?" Helsknight asked, shuffling a step away from Tanguish like he was a snake getting ready to bite him. "We're not friends."

"Oh… I didn't think we were."

"Good."

"I just… I don't know. I don't know what I'm doing."

Helsknight watched him, eyes narrowed, guarded. Tanguish really didn't understand why the knight was always so suspicious. It seemed like the only things he ever did was yell and size people up. Whatever he was measuring Tanguish against, it seemed to appease him, because he said, "Obviously. About the only thing you can make friends with up here are pigeons." Helsknight kicked the roof spike again. "Or ghasts."

"Pretty sure these are made to deter pigeons."

"Didn't deter you."

"I'm… not a pigeon?"

"A pest is a pest."

Tanguish looked down at the street again and pretended that comment didn't sting. Helsknight shifted his weight on his feet uncomfortably, eyeing the perilous roof. 

"How the hels do you sit down on this thing?"

"Oh. Uh." Tanguish stood up from his crouch. "Further down the roof, where it levels out." He clambered down the tiles to where the roof leveled, showing Helsknight where to step. Tanguish didn't like sitting on the shallower slopes. It was harder to see the road and all its busy people. As soon as they got someplace level though, Helsknight sat down between two rows of crockets, sighing heavily. Tanguish hovered over him.

"Are you okay?"

"I've been on my feet all day," was all the knight said in elaboration. Then, much to Tanguish's surprise, he started undoing the straps and buckles that kept his armor on. Helsknight was efficient with it, used to donning and doffing the stuff at least once a day. He fanned the pieces out in a neat semi-circle around himself, a halo of glittering, enchanted metal. Tanguish wondered if it was all netherite. It was hard to tell. Helsknight stained it black, and the purple glow of enchantment made the texture hard to make out.

Helsknight surveyed his armor, making sure all was as it should be, before pulling a flask, a brush and a rag from his inventory. He grabbed up a pauldron and got to work polishing. Tanguish watched him silently for a moment, then asked, "I just showed you the best view in hels, and you're polishing your armor."

"You like church  roofs, I like polished armor," the knight snapped. "Sue me."

"You could polish that literally anywhere else."

"If I polish it down there, someone will steal it," Helsknight told him matter-of-factly. "Besides, I'm up here because you're in trouble. So spill."

"Trouble? What makes you think I'm in trouble?"

"Sprinting across town. You've made a deal with your hermit about something. You've got the overall look of someone who just jumped in the ocean and realized they can't swim--"

Tanguish couldn't help himself. Anger pounced on him before he even realized what he was feeling. "And that's your business?"

"Call it a hobby." Helsknight answered, thoroughly unimpressed by the bite in Tanguish's voice. "But if you're planning to keep sleeping under my roof, your trouble is my trouble. So spill."

Tanguish’s anger abated just as quickly as it had come, and he disliked that nearly as much as feeling it in the first place. He hovered awkwardly above Helsknight, watching as he quietly and stubbornly worked. He inspected the pauldron he had been polishing, then neatly placed it down back where it had been in his halo of armor before moving on to the next piece. Tanguish stood there for several minutes, coalescing his thoughts and watching. It was… oddly soothing watching the knight work, watching each piece of armor get checked over with dutiful care. And the whole time Helsknight worked, Tanguish never felt like the conversation dropped. Not completely. There was a weird sort of attentiveness, more like an aura than anything physical. Helsknight never dropped his guard, or forgot Tanguish was there. He simply bided his time with the patience of someone who had… probably done this before. It was vulnerable, and weird, and scratched an itch somewhere in the back of Tanguish’s head.

Tanguish told Helsknight about his deal with Tango, ignoring the scoff the knight made. He told him about feeling too much, overwhelmed, and scared, and he told him again: “I don’t know how to make friends. And if I don’t, I’m going to lose Tango, and I don’t want that.”

Helsknight was quiet for a long moment, glowering down at the greave he had just finished polishing, running his thumb over a scrape that his polishing hadn’t buffed out. Then he snapped his hand back and wrung out his wrist, having worried at the armor enough to get stung by his own thorns.

"Have you tried not being useless?" Helsknight asked, not looking up from his task. He was too distracted to add his normal venom to his voice. It was as much an insult as a thorn on a rosebush was (and it was hard to count the comment as an insult when Tanguish mostly thought it was true).

"I've never had to make friends before," Tanguish continued as though the knight hadn't said anything, "I always had Tango."

Helsknight scoffed again and held his greave up to the general light of hels, looking for more imperfections. He gently placed it on the roof and surveyed his handy work, his hands on his sides. He picked up his helmet and set to work again, pouring the oily liquid from his flask onto it and beginning the long task of rubbing it in.

"How do you make friends?"

"I wouldn't know." Helsknight answered curtly. "My line of work doesn't make friends."

"You work?"

Helsknight paused briefly to sneer and raise an eyebrow. "I buy the groceries you eat and pay the rent for the roof you're under."

Tanguish held out his hands placatingly. "I just figured… you know…" (What had he figured exactly? Of course Helsknight worked. Most normal people weren't thieves and leeches. Weird. Tanguish had never considered that he wasn't normal for hels.) "... I mean, you've got to be a royal guard or something right? Paid by Evil X?"

Helsknight gave a sharp bark of a laugh and got back to polishing. “Me and Evil X don’t get along.” (Helsknight and most people didn’t get along.)

Tanguish must have said that last thought out loud, because Helsknight laughed, and it sounded more genuine than any others Tanguish had ever heard. It was sharp and staccatoed, and faintly hoarse, like it didn’t fit in his throat right. “Evil X is evil, idiot. I’m not. We clash fundamentally.”

“... oh.” Tanguish supposed that made sense. “But, you’re like, the strongest knight around, right? Wouldn’t he want you working for him?”

Helsknight shrugged, and lapsed into silence again. His conversations, Tanguish was realizing, came in waves, a literal incarnation of the phrase ‘picking his battles’. As if sensing Tanguish’s thoughts, Helsknight said, “I’m not a part of your parasitic bullshit. I have boundaries. You don’t need to know everything about me.”

“I was just asking a question,” Tanguish snapped, that anger (or maybe it was just annoyance? Annoyance that Helsknight could be kind and cruel at the same time) creeping up on him again. “You’re the one who got in my business first.”

“And it's stupid business.” Helsknight retorted. “You should just let your hermit die. It’s better for you that way.”

“That’s--” (unthinkable, cruel, something he doesn’t even want to consider) “-- evil.”

Helsknight rolled his eyes eloquently. He finished buffing out a ding in his helmet, then set about the task of buckling and clasping and shuffling everything back on. Once again, Tanguish found himself falling silent and watching.

“You eaten anything yet?”

The question came while Helsknight was in the middle of buckling on his right vambrace. He barely even had to look at all the fiddly little belts and snaps. He just felt for them through his gauntlet and fashioned them on.

“What?”

“Food,” Helsknight snapped patronizingly, tugging at various places on his armor to make sure they were all snug (they were). “Steak. Potatoes. Carrots. Bamboo--”

“No, I haven't eaten anything yet. Do you have to be so mean about it?”

“I don’t ask questions twice,” Helsknight snorted, then jerked his head in the direction of the belltower. “I’m going downstairs. Feel free to take them -- or do whatever you normally do. If you get yourself killed falling off the roof, I’ll just meet you at the house.”

Helsknight left, and Tanguish watched him go, feeling generally confused, and like nothing productive had happened outside of him just talking about things. Granted, the talking about things did feel… not like it solved anything, but like it was better now. Watching Helsknight clean his armor had been… not fun. Interesting? Soothing. Even for how abrasive the knight was. (Tanguish decided there was a lot he still didn’t get about Helsknight, and a lot he would probably never get, and that maybe that was fine for now. He had just been offered free food, it seemed like, and Tanguish enjoyed food.) So he followed the knight downstairs, and into the street. Helsknight got them some food from a stand, hot and greasy and comfortable. They walked home. They didn’t talk, the sense of Helsknight picking battles again, distant and thoughtful.

Helsknight woke him the next morning, severe and unquestionable as ever. “Get up. You’re going with me to the colosseum today.”

_________________________________________________

This is chapter 6 in the Redstone and Skulk series! You can read the full fic on AO3.

[solar-sunnyside-up]

Just rebloged that “solarpunk community center” art and now I’m thinking a Solarpunk Community Center. Like, how cool would it be? I wonder what they would have inside? Definitely some eco friendly arts and crafts inside. Maybe some stuff to make paper? For people who want to like, restock the paper used for the arts and crafts (maybe there’s an area where people can bring in their paper scraps and they use that to make the new paper?) maybe a little area for workshops to cycle throughout the week/month like in a library. I can totally see a day where someone comes in to teach people how to make paint and ink from plants and rocks (mostly paint from rocks). Maybe they would also have some toys made out of cloth and wood for the younger kids and like, maybe a little daycare like area? Board games for the older kids and adults, an area to work on computers and study, maybe an area that’s like a lounge/commons room? And definitely an area to fix things, like your clothes and electronics. Maybe they even have a little kitchen area for people to come and go with food and drinks. Idk I never actually been to a community center before 😅

Oh totally!! I think a community hub becomes something entirely different we see all over the place once most places becomes third spaces.

Like they could be a cafe/public kitchen/food distribution space, they could just be a neighborhood library with all the organizational stuff. It could be an event center. It's amazing to think about!

The community center near me, which is actually holding a vollunteer thank you tea today (but it's-35 and I don't wanna take a baby in that) but here's some of the services they already do so you should find the nearest community center and see what they got:

Little library/pantry/blockbuster outside

Fresh veg/fruit drop off is boxes for 35$ from local farmers

Game night - weekly until end of winter (mostly board games)

Movie nights - adult and kid ones (with snacks)

Free ice skating/garden plot when you get a membership

Jellybean dances

It's also got a pub in the basement where they sell a local beer primarily and have pool/darts/other pub games

A shared free circular store where ppl donate stuff and anyone can come and pick up whatever (lots of books/toys/clothes but also dishes and other stuff!)

Yoga, Dodgeball, and kids music classes

And hopefully next year a communal kitchen and girl guide meetings once the halls renos are done!!

[cashthecomposer]

tell me about your musical :3

Of course!

I have my debut musical premiering this Halloween, called:

Fantasmagoriana

It's about the summer of 1816 at the Villa Diodati. Lord Byron invites several of his contemporaries to holiday with him, to dance together, to drink together, and to read ghost stories. He challenges them to write their own. A slew of drama ensues; romance, storms, duels, and near death experiences alike, sparking inspiration in all. Byron's personal physician creates the modern Vampyre, but Mary Shelley wins the competition through the creation of Frankenstein... But at what cost?

I've taken the story of Mary's composition of Frankenstein, and turned it into an allegory for the Frankenstein story in itself. It's a show about what it means to create, what it means to have a legacy; and it's a show about mistakes, consequences, and death. The characters are all young adults, 18-28, so it's about the things I struggled with through those years; particularly, coming to face one's own mortality.

My dad had the idea back in 2016, the 200th anniversary of that summer. I was 19, the same age as Mary- it was kismet. I went ahead and wrote down some ideas, and began research. A few years ago, my dad was diagnosed with cancer, and I was hit by a car, so I got acquainted with the idea of mortality very suddenly. I wrote the show while heavily concussed, and workshopped it once I was better.

I'm producing it this Halloween as a one night only immersive experience, and I have a film crew recording the show to stream on my Patreon early next spring.

At the same time, I'm writing a new show, working title:

Six Miles

It's about the local legend of Lavinia Fisher. According to myth, she was a serial killer who ran a hotel with her husband, John; when they were caught, he was hanged first, and she went to the gallows in her wedding gown, but when no one would save her through matrimony, she announced-

If anyone has a message for the devil, tell me now, for I'll be seeing him shortly!

And jumped to her death.

Now, this isn't the truth. The truth is, Lavinia was a slave, owned by John's uncle. When their relationship was discovered, she was sold down to a doctor in Charleston. John stole from people until he got enough to secure her freedom, and together, they ran a little hotel for a while. Eventually, their relationship was discovered, and they were framed for highway robbery, and sent to jail. John escaped, and tried to free Lavinia yet again, but couldn't- he chose to be recaptured rather than being free apart from her. They were hanged together, and buried in a pauper's field- until that doctor who bought Lavinia, the surgeon general of South Carolina, had her dug up, and her remains hung in a museum for over a hundred years.

I'll be showing both sides of the story- a ghost tour guide will present the legend, while a pair of actors will play the pair, showing us the actual history.

I'm documenting the process of writing this new musical on a YouTube channel, starting from its conception, all the way through production! A new video comes out every other Sunday, including tomorrow! The videos are released early on my Patreon fyi.

So those are my shows, I hope you'll stick around to watch them! I'm all about women in horror. Not sure what that says about me. 😅