#dancing windstorm

[lars-canyon]

GBVSR – 02-01-24 – Fennel (Vira/Grimnir/Nier) vs Wysteir [Yuel]

Another Sky Dancing Windstorm and Dance of a Thousand Years on Lumacie

[just-some-user-hunny]

Grey ghost as your dragon ...

. Grey ghost was a considerably shy dragon.

Although shy may not be the right word to describe him, more like introverted and prone to avoiding people. He isn't particularly fond of the ruckus that humans make. They're so noisy, and nosy.

. Cattle would disappear in the hours of daylight, often in days of heavy fog and engulfing dark clouds. All common folk know to herd in their livestock on particularly cloudy/foggy days as to dissuade the grey ghost from paying them a visit.

. Befitting his name, he hides in the clouds. shrouded with silver and dark shadow as he soars silently upon the wind like a haunting phantom, the beat of his wings like a windstorm or hurricane.

. He's a very silent flyer. Arguably the quietest dragon out of all of them. He drifts and skulks like a ghost.

. His wildness is that of a bird of prey. Poised and exact, silent and puffed with pride. If he were to bond with you, you'd get to delve more into his guarded personality. He's mostly withdrawn, but he certainly wouldn't mind your company.

. Humans, to him, are both predator and prey. He's seen what they are capable of, seen how the dragon-lords have captured and saddled his kind. At first he would be very hesitant of you, shying away and flying off whenever he was given the chance, but no matter how often he hid from you, he was never too far. You'll swear you can see him on the corner of your eye whenever your sights are set to the sky. You'll hear the beat of his wings as he'd silently cruise in the sky over your head, watching you. Observing you.

. Bonding with this wild dragon would take patience and delicacy, but once you were granted his precious trust? Oh he would be all over you.

. His leathery pale wings are worn from constant flight, so he would love whatever pampering you'd give him. Soothing Salves upon the aching muscles of his wings, cleaning his silvery scales around his face, or simply allowing him to sleep with his head nestled close to you or in your lap, he'd be a happy dragon. Humans have always been off limits to him, so he's exploring this side of humanity. The goodness. The kindness. The pack bonding that they seem to hold for anything and everything. You're his experience.

. He loves flying with you. He'd not even mind the saddle, almost eagerly letting you fasten the dragon-saddle upon him as he impatiently awaits for you to clamber on so he can show you how high he can soar. Be warned however- he's going to test you. See how high or fast you can tolerate his dance in the air, how much courage his little human has, and how worthy they are of riding him.

Be mindful to hold on tight to the reigns, you're going to need it.

. He'll take you over deep oceans, vast forests and treacherous mountains. He'll take you to the stars and the moon, fly you as close to the heavens that you can possibly reach your whilst within in your mortal body. He especially loves flying through billowing storm clouds and rainclouds. The rush of wind under his wings, the fresh cool rain on his scales, and the claps of thunder that makes his heart skip a beat. You may return from your flights a little drenched and shivering, but it'd be so worth it.

. He would probably not tolerate the dragon pits. He hates the confinement, and the thought of being cramped in there with other bulky dragons. All growling and huffing and bellowing fire, stepping on tails and talons. He's a solitary creature. Grey ghost likes the company of himself and you.

. Instead he would find a perch nearby. A cave perhaps, or a nice spot near the shoreline. He likes the bubbling seafoam and the glittering silver fish in the water.

. He loves seeing you every morning. When you leave the castle grounds, there you will find him. perched upon a cliffy hillside, or perhaps near the tide pools- his dark silver scales shimmering with seaspray. Your greetings are often reciprocated with a huff or a bellow of smoke, before he nestles his neck and wing down for you to climb upon his back.

. If you are bonded with him, it is possible you share a common interest. Perhaps you harbour some introverted tendencies, or maybe you are a little shy and anxious. You could also just want to go against the grain and do things at your own pace and style, whatever the case, you will both see a part of yourselves in one another. He gets it- he understands. Loud noises, gossip, prodding words and eyes- they're all too much. He'll take you to the tranquility of the clouds and stars, and he'll be your greatest strength and protection- just like you are his greatest peace and joy.

[tossawary]

Honestly, I don't think the Ents were scary enough in the LOTR Jackson films when they attacked Isengard. Like, it's great! It is great! It was amazing to see the first time; the effects are incredible for their time and they still hold up pretty well! I don't need to be told that they had various animation limitations. (More size variation in the Ents could have been nice. They could have been even bigger. But animation limitations and time constraints and such, I know!)

It's just that a lot of the camera shots were looking down on the battle (they're using bigatures and such, I know), so the Ents looked tiny, stomping on tinier orcs, or the camera is sitting with Merry and Pippin on Treebeard's shoulders, and that angle doesn't really get across how HUGE and NON-HUMAN trees are. I think the best shots in this battle sequence are the ones from the perspective of the orcs, where it's just utter chaos, and then some walking tree appears out of nowhere and it's ANGRY WITH YOU. Ideally, I think it would have been great if the storyboarding had leaned more into that bewildered and terrified human perspective more, getting more into the dirt of things, before then zooming out for the overview of the Ents overtaking Isengard for the end of the sequence. The boarding in the film does a lot of jumping in and out in regards to size and what's happening.

Like, have you ever been next to a massive tree in a windstorm? The sort that looms over the roofs of houses? When the whole tree starts swaying in the wind, hundreds of branches twisting like some kind of tentacled beast? And the rustling starts to sound like a dull roar? And you think to yourself, "Oh, if that tall tree ever goes down, it is taking that entire house down with it, cracking open the roof and bashing down the walls. It would smash that car flat. It would crush me easily and I don't even know how I would begin to get out of its way as it falls, because its branches and leaves would just swallow me."

And if you're ever in a heavily wooded area during a windstorm, it's even worse, because the old trees all around you are bending and shaking like they're about to pull up their roots and start walking. Like, you didn't forget that they're alive, did you? And it's beautiful, of course, but it's also dangerous. It looks like they're dancing in their own way, but the amount of wood being thrown around means that one good branch breaking could seriously hurt someone. And it's just a branch to the tree, the tree might be fine, it might just grow another, but that branch could easily be longer and heavier than a person.

It is cool to see all of the other Ents coming out of the woods to back Treebeard up and then go marching forward. But it does raise the question of "Wait, how did the other Ents get there so fast? Aren't they kind of slow?" (If there is lore explaining this, general movie audiences will not know it.) So, it would be fun if Treebeard made his call and the dramatic speech, all alone, and then we could cut away, so we have the plausible deniability of a time skip. There's also the tension of: "Oh, no, is Treebeard going to attack Isengard alone?"

And THEN we could pick back up with orcs on the walls of Isengard, boredly watching the industry below, before the ground starts shaking and the stone beneath their feet cracks. And a huge shadow looms over the wall as a MASSIVE TREE climbs over, basically falling over, and letting its sheer weight take down everything in its path. Followed by dozens more of these creatures. Making the machinery of Isengard look and all the orcs within feel very, VERY small.

If Ents are ever depicted again in any visual adaptation, even an illustrated version of the novel or a graphic novel, I feel like it should be a goal to really capture that feeling of being small and mortal by comparison. Some of the earlier interactions with Merry and Pippin and Treebeard get this feeling well enough. The LOTR films are over and done, obviously, and they did pretty well. But it could be better! I want to LEAN into those moments of smallness just a little more in future adaptations of Middle Earth. I would love to keep the camera LOW as much as possible and utilize advancements like more detailed models and better leaf animation. (Like hair, leaves are hard!)

We are not the Ents here. We are just witnessing them. You have to go out into a forest and ask yourself, "What WOULD it be like if trees walked around me?"

[hyper-fixates]

old man logan preview cause i #needthat

warnings: 18+ below — afab!reader (no pronouns/gendered language), unprotected sex, DOMESTICITY, established relationship, age gap due to logan’s mutation (reader’s age not specified), 1 allusion to death.

notes: fuck any context for this. we raw-dog like men.

Excerpt 1:

“Look at the snow. Look,” you say in awe when you hear him shuffling along the creaky floor behind you.

It doesn’t look like anything special to Logan. He’s seen every type of snow, every type of storm Alberta has to throw his way; however, this may be the most mundane snowfall he’s seen that he can remember.

“What about it?” He says. He doesn’t know what’s got you so excitable. 

You look at him over your shoulder. “I’ve never seen a snowfall before,” you explain. “The snowflakes are so fat,” you chuckle as he comes to rest a hand on your lower back, peeking through the window over your shoulder at the snow dancing in the wind.

“Mhm, it’s nice.” He still doesn’t get it. “Go get ready. There’s more wood coming in a bit,” he dismisses with a gentle kiss to your cheek, dense beard poking into your skin.

He goes to the bedroom. You should follow, but you keep watching the snow.

In the moment, you don’t realize that while this is your first snowfall, it’s probably Logan’s last.

Excerpt 2:

The windstorm knocked out the power.

The blazing fire will probably be your only source of light for the rest of the night and into the morning.  

So, without power, there’s not much to do. But, you and Logan sit on the floor with him resting against the front of the couch. You sit between his legs, feeling the heat of him on your back while you watch his arms reach over and around you to set various sized coins on the coffee table to entertain—and educate, as he would say—you.

“That one’s so big,” you point out, leaning forwards and reaching for the gold coin. 

Logan wants to make a joke so badly, but he settles for a small smile at what little he can see of your perplexed expression from the side.

He rests his chin on your shoulder when you set yourself back against him.

You feel sparse little kisses to your neck and jaw, and you instinctually tilt your head a few inches to the left to let Logan wander where he pleases.

Excerpt 3:

The final night in the state was the breaking point. You had unburned, pent-up energy and cramping muscles that needed to be worn out if you wanted to survive the last day on the road before you got to the border.

So you pulled over and fucked in the passenger seat. 

Logan let you bounce on his cock until the lactic acid in your thighs made you cry out in pain and you physically couldn’t ride him anymore.

He made you drag it out—for both of your sakes. He wanted your hearts to pump hard and your lungs to sting with each inhale. He wanted your bodies to be fucked into a state of relaxation afterwards.

So, he didn’t help you ride him like he usually does. He didn’t help guide you by your hips up and down his cock. He let you do it all by yourself while he licked and sucked over your collarbones and teased your clit with his fingers.

You both came hard, laughing at the fogged-up windows while cleaning yourselves up with those rough, brown napkins everyone has in their glove compartment for some reason.

Then you continued on, satisfied.

[incorrectbatfam]

Dick: You never dance?

Tim: I'm told that I look like a marionette in a windstorm.

[panic-point-blank]

Orientalist Paintings

Jean-Léon Gérôme - The Carpet Merchant 

Jean Leon Gerome - Pelt Merchant of Cairo

Frederick Arthur Bridgman - An Afternoon in Algiers

Osman Hamdi Bey - Islam Priest Reading Qura'an

John Frederick Lewis - The Midday Meal, Cairo

Ludwig Deutsch - The Tribute

Frederick Arthur Bridgman - The Messenger, 1879

Jean-Léon Gérôme - The Harem in the Kiosk, 1870

Frederick Arthur Bridgman - In The Souk, Tunis (1874)

Jean-Léon Gérôme - Prayer in the Mosque

John Frederick Lewis - The Kibab Shop

(The Reception) by John Frederick Lewis

Frederick Arthur Bridgman - Return from the Festival, Algiers

Gustav Bauernfeind - Forecourt of the Ummayad Mosque

Ludwig Deutsch - At Prayer (1923)

Frederick Arthur Bridgman - Young Woman On A Terrace

John Frederick Lewis - The Harem 1841

Ludwig Deutsch - The Qanun Player

Rudolf Ernst - The Carpet Seller

Martinus Rørbye - outside the Kilic Ali Pasha Mosque

Léon-Auguste-Adolphe Belly - Pilgrims going to Mecca

Amedeo Simonetti - The Rug Merchant

Eugène Fromentin - Windstorm

Jean Leon Gerome - The Whirling Dervish

Giulio Rosati - The Dance

Jean Discart - The Pottery Studio Tangiers

Osman Hamdi Bey - Young Woman Reading

[weirdmorefics]

Hello! May I request a Az x reader (she/her) x Crowley where the reader loves the wind and has long hair (she grew her hair out specifically for this reason) and so to mess with her, Crowley and Az decide to play a prank where Crowley generates strong winds to play with the reader’s hair? Thank you so much and have an ineffable day!

Wind and Ducks

Aziraphale x Reader x Crowley

A/N- Have ineffable day as well!!!

Readers Pronouns- She/Her

Warnings- None

Word Count- 767

Summary- The three of you are spending the day in the park on the same bench you always do and feeding ducks but the wind seems to be following the reader wherever she goes.

"Who has the frozen peas?" Y/n shouts.

"Darling, I think we are out. There is bread where I keep the tea." Aziraphale responds.

Y/n gasps "Have you no decency for life!"

"Pardon," Aziraphale's head whips back to face her.

"Angel, you know bread causes obstructions in ducks," Crowley reminds.

"Sorry darling, I was distracted new shipment of books came in. Couldn't wait to open it," he smiled sheepishly.

"But we neeeed peeeaas," she whines.

"Then peas we shall get," Aziraphale kisses the top of her head.

"Let's get a move on then," Crowley ushers the two of you out of the store.

The door swings open with ease the wind blowing it back. Y/n's hair whips back into her face a small gigle escaping her lips.

"I hope the wind doesn't disturb the ducks, I do love the breeze though," she smiles.

"I am sure the ducks will not care about the wind once they see your smile," Aziraphale grins.

"Oh you big softie," Y/N pushes his shoulder.

The three of them spent way more time in the shop than was needed. Aziraphale looks at sweets, Crowley judges the plants' quality, and Y/n looks for the best peas to please the ducks. As the group exits the wind seems to have picked and Aziraphale and Crowley exchange knowing smiles unbeknownst to Y/n.

Y/n giggles a strand of hair gets tucked between her nose and lip. She turns to Crowley with a big grin, "You like my mustache?" She twirls the end of her hair as if it were a curly mustache on her face.

Crowley rolls his eyes but his smile tells another story. The wind comes in and goes and each time it picks up Aziraphale and Crowley would exchange silent glances. Y/n starts to pick up on these glances as they become more frequent but does not make the correlation.

She turns to face them pointing an excusing finger at them as they make their way to the park, "What are you two up to?"

Crowley raises his hands up in defense, "I have no idea what you are on about darling."

Y/n ignores Crowley and sends her glance to Aziraphale expecting him to be the more likely one to break but he says nothing and shrugs with an innocent smile.

She puts to her eyes and back to the duo, "I've got my eye on you two." She turns back around and continues to make her way to the duck pond.

Crowley and Aziraphale sit on the same bench as always and Y/n sits closer to the water to accommodate the ducks. She hands out the peas delicately and more and more ducks seem to surround her. Crowley looks at the ducks with envy to be treated so kindly by Y/n was a gift what did these birds do to deserve it. As his jealousy gets the best of him the wind picks up the heaviest it has today making the ducks scurry off. Y/n frowns but the wind causes flowers from a nearby bush to land gently in her hair. She stands smiling letting her hair flow more wildly and dancing around. She followed the direction which the flowers came from and picked some more for the boys.

She sat on the bench once she returned and tucked the flowers in the men's hair, "Crowley if you were jealous of the ducks all you had to do was say not make a windstorm."

"I haven't the faintest clue on what you're talking about," Crowley plays coy.

"Aziraphle," She states.

"We just love seeing you so happy when the wind plays with your hair," he smiled sheepishly.

"See love it wasn't out of jealousy it was for joy," Crowley argued.

"Whatever you say," Y/n giggles.

"I am serious Y/n," he says defensively.

"You are fooling no one, Crowley. Even the angel doesn't believe you," She smiled as the angel looked away hiding a smile.

"Come on, let's leave. I am getting quite tired of you two ganging up on me." Crowley ends the conversation leaving Aziraphale and Y/n smiling and chuckling.

"I must say I did enjoy seeing you so happy with the wind today. I am glad it was accompanied by a signature Crowley tantrum," He whispers into her ear.

Y/n smile widens even bigger and she whispers, "Me too."

"Oi, what are you to whispering about over there? It better not be about me! Let's get a move on," Crowley shouts and the giggling pair follow.

[terrence-silver]

Does Terry Silver get nervous butterflies when in love? I like to think about his sensitive side, if such a thing exists.

---

Oh, it exists alright.

He's pacing up and down, trying on several different outfits, putting his stylists through hell because the impression he wants to leave matters more than anything else right now --- he's overthinking, he's overplanning, his mansion is practically under siege, the long-suffering Margaret is reminding Mr. Silver that he should please, most respectfully, calm down before he blows a fuse because here he is, practically vibrating with excitement and buying expensive gifts in advance...and then buying several additional ones while soaking in his jacuzzi because the first one seems somehow insufficient to what he desires (and he's imagined you'll desire). He's making call after call that is meant to ensure he's delivered every bit of information, intel, every purchase, every commission, that every order is put into motion, that every piece of the puzzle that'll ensure him, say, a perfect outcome to something he's envisioned or planned with his beloved is completed to his specific instructions; he's all movement, all enthusiasm, all euphoria, he's weaving schemes in advance like he just made the business deal of a lifetime. He's been at it since one in the morning. Now, it's two in the afternoon...the next day. Man hasn't slept in over twelve hours and nobody knows exactly where he seeps the energy or endurance from; but whatever the source, there seems to be an infinite abundance of it. He's all giddy, all smiles, all laughter and that's Terry Silver in love for you. The human incarnation of a happy pill.

Impossible to contain or calm down.

His butterflies are absolutely on steroids and hitting new highs, loudly flapping away hard enough to cause a windstorm in his gut that'll put a pep in his step like he's a child about to meet his most cherished playdate after being separated for merely a day for all we know, running on excess energy, forcing everyone around him to just try and keep up with his overall stamina and increasing demands --- and good luck with that one. Milos Dadok could be there, diligently almost running behind a long-legged Mr. Silver, carrying bouquets containing a hundred and one red roses because it's go big or go home at every hour of the day in this dojo, grimly and very seriously attempting to pace himself to his Boss' wide, eager strides as he hauls the flowers forward followed by a team of staff members marching where Terry wants and needs them to be. They're on a tight schedule here! They've an agenda! Man could be any age at any time and he'll behave like a school boy about to go a first dance.

So, not only can he be sensitive, he's...I mean, look at this beautiful face?

☝️I envision Terry Silver in love is like that 24 / 7.

It's everything or nothing with him.

Guy beams infectious, boyish, unspoiled happiness like a nuclear reactor and when he truly cares and it's written all over him, I feel. All over his body language. His face. His expression. His energy. His behavior. His deeds. All of it. There's no doubt in mind this guy's enamored because when he is, emotions are open and raw. Beloved walks into the room and he immediately has this triumphant, shit-eating full mega-watt smile with two rows of teeth entirely on display at the mere sight of them as he runs towards them and his whole face along with his eyes just laugh with him. He lights up. I wouldn't say it is nervousness in the classical sense because I don't feel he ascribes to feeling, cultivating or nurturing any emotion he might view as limiting to his ambitions (in this case, his ambitions being beloved's affection), but nonetheless, it is the type of love one cannot hide and definitely the manner of reaction everyone dreams and yearns to be greeted with. He's just overjoyed. If anything, Terry Silver's very courageous and even adorably overbearing with his butterflies.

He can be the sweetest person ever or a literal nightmare.

Best pray he doesn't see you as an enemy.

[oddmawd]

THE SIGHT UNSEEN - Chapter 24: "Rei's Nine Lives of Conversation Avoidance"

SUMMARY: Yamato Rei pays the bills by telling fake fortunes to unwitting suckers... or so she thinks. Turns out half her customers are demons and her lying ass has been predicting the future with uncanny accuracy for years. On account of her growing reputation, Rei just landed on the radar of the same demon who murdered her aunt, and her only hope of survival is a mirror haunted by the ghost of an ancient warrior queen, her burgeoning psychic powers, and a certain Spirit Detective and his friends. Specifically the pretty one with red hair who seems to see right through her... Kurama is as mysterious as he is beautiful, and when Rei must stay at Genkai’s temple for protection on the eve of Yusuke and Keiko’s wedding, she finds herself growing closer and closer to the one man who’s sworn to keep everyone at arm’s length. But both Kurama and Rei hide behind high walls of their own creation, and it’ll take more than their eventual friends-with-benefits arrangement to see those walls come crumbling down — provided the demons hunting Rei don’t tear her limb from limb, first.

TAGS & CONTENT WARNINGS

PAIRINGS: Kurama/OC, Yusuke/Keiko

RATING:  E(xplicit) (MDNI, 18+) (but this chapter is T+)

WORD COUNT: 12.3k for chapter 24

GENRE: Supernatural Romance

FANDOM: Yu Yu Hakusho

TAGS: Opposite of a slow burn, friends with benefits, mutual pining until it explodes, mystery, being stalked by demons, fortune telling, supernatural powers, inheritance, hair loss (main character has alopecia and is mostly bald), insecurity, family trauma, found family, new friends, weddings, 

WARNINGS: N/A for chapter 24

This fic is exclusively hosted on Archive of Our Own

CHAPTER 24: "Rei's Nine Lives of Conversation Avoidance" - Excerpt

As soon as Rei ascertained with (somewhat relative) certainty Kurama would no longer be able to see her bright red face, Rei covered her face with her hands and screamed.

Well, sort of. She kind of mimed screaming, if that makes sense, with lots of air rushing up her windpipe and her face contorting into an impressive mimicry of Edvard Munch’s most iconic work, and she was only just a fraction louder than that particular work of art. She whisper-screamed into the void and staggered haphazardly around the unfortunate stretch of porch that bore witness to her dramatics, throwing herself at railings and support poles and sliding down them until she lay in a heap upon the floor. Then, as a bamboo deer scare popped nearby, she rolled around a bit, face still buried in her hands, dragging her fingers down her cheeks as she held back screeches of embarrassment, mortification, and shock at her own goddamn audacity.

Because holy fucking shit, gang — Rei was a bad bitch of the highest order with confidence to spare and an ass that just won’t quit, but propositioning Kurama to his face was bold even by her standards. She was long past her fun party-girl phase and hadn’t been so forward with a potential sexual partner in years. She was pursuing a master’s degree in library sciences, for fuck’s sake! What the hell had gotten into her?

Rei was a confident person, sure. She’d taken her clothes off in front of a crowd, danced in a tiny dress in front of judges without breaking a sweat, and worn a wig in a windstorm for a photo shoot, but even she wasn’t usually that brazen with an overture. She’d all but crafted an engraved invitation beckoning Kurama to waltz his (very fine) ass right back into her bed!

But then again, it was easy to be confident when you had a cheat code. A little inside scoop, if you will. Because a certain very interesting prophetic dream glimpsed in the bottom of Rei's teacup still hadn’t come true. That future moment hadn’t happened yet, and that meant…

Still lying prone upon the porch, Rei shivered. Things were not over between the two of them, she was sure of it.

Eventually she managed to scrape herself off the floor and head indoors. Sooner was better than later for floor-scraping, Rei thought. After all, Kurama had indicated he would follow her inside for a cup of coffee (a literal one, not the metaphorical cup one might use to lure a hookup to your apartment for the evening, but Rei digressed as she was wont to do when held in the grip of slutty panic). Seeing her rolling around like a cat who’d gotten into the nip stash would probably kill any chances she had with the reserved man, anyway. As it stood, despite her inside scoop leading the way, she wasn’t entirely sure if he’d ever want to speak to her again — not with the level of intimacy they’d been sharing up until that point, at least. He’d probably back off a bit now that so many lines had been crossed. Or maybe “playing it cool” meant he’d never speak to her again for as long as they lived.

Either way, she’d follow his lead. That much she could handle.

And in what was perhaps a bit of cosmic foreshadowing, Himiko had given Rei the silent treatment. After tucking Kurama in for the night, she’d worried the old queen would give her an earful as soon as her head hit the pillow, but nope. Himiko had remained as silent as the grave she had avoided by sealing herself into that ancient mirror. No dream visits had occurred, not even to scold Rei for co-sleeping with the fox demon Himiko loved warning her about. That seemed like a prime moment for a great-great-great-great-grandmotherly lecture. Rei wasn’t entirely sure what the unexpected silence might bode in its stead.

Dreams untroubled, Rei had awoken that morning to find Kurama sleeping soundly at her side. Bastard was pretty even with his hair rumpled and teeth unbrushed, clothes hanging off his toned chest like a model carefully staged to look both elegant and disheveled in the early morning light. God, Kurama was in way better shape than Rei had expected him to be. He had a dancer’s body, by Rei's estimations: lithe and strong with muscles easily hidden beneath tailored slacks and collared shirts. But with his shirt unbuttoned and tits out, so to speak (scratches from her nails still trailing down to his taut abs, she noted), he was positively delicious. It had taken quite a bit of willpower to not wake him then and there and discover how down to clown he was without alcohol flooding his system. Instead she’d left him in her bed and gone to bathe, scrubbing herself from top to bottom with some of the fancy, strongly scented soap Botan had brought with her to the shrine. No telling how good demons’ senses of smell were. She knew Kurama would want privacy, and she had done her best to accommodate his expected anxieties by stripping the lingering scent of roses and earth from her skin.

How she’d kept a straight face in front of Hokushin when she ran into him in the hall just afterward was beyond her. He’d come storming through just as she exited the onsen, the demon clearly panicked about something, and his eyes had bugged when he saw her coming. In his fist he carried an empty bottle of sake — the exact same bottle a furtive Yusuke had asked Keiko to put away somewhere the night before. Rei had gone with Keiko at the time, and they’d placed it on a table with the other liquor. Neither had thought much of it in the moment, but now, seeing the look on Hokushin’s face…

“Yamato-san.” He held the bottle out, beady eyes intent on her face. “Did you see who drank this?”

“Drank…?” She blinked at him innocently, quick mind was already doing some rather unfortunate math. “No, sorry. Was it important?”

While he babbled about precious wedding-night gifts and unbreakable Alaric consummation traditions and mildly aphrodisiacal wines, she’d crunched the appropriate numbers and realized exactly what Kurama must have been sipping on all evening. But while she felt bad for Hokushin, who was even balder than she was and therefore an automatic friend to Rei, she hadn’t told him she suspected Kurama had imbibed the dubious wedding present. Instead she’d directed him toward Chu, wherever he was, in a classic misdirect toward the insatiable drunk.

“Chu?” Hokushin’s brow furrowed. “He prefers his ogre-killer.”

“True,” said Rei sagely, “but he was coming onto me all night, and if that liquor has the effect you claim it does…”

Hook, line, sinker. Hokushin had taken the bait and stormed off with gutting Chu like a fish on his mind, and Rei — feeling accomplished at her subterfuge, and mildly vengeful toward Chu after the evening prior — had gone to the kitchen to make coffee. That’s where Kurama had found her, and then he’d pulled her into the woods, and then she’d propositioned him because oh god oh god oh god, she’d lost her damned mind! 

But dwelling on her lapses in sanity wouldn’t do anyone any good, least of all Rei, so right back into the kitchen she went. She’d made allusions of breakfast to Kurama, after all, and she wasn’t the type to go back on a promise.

This time, however, she found the kitchen occupied by Keiko, who stood over the brewing coffee pot with eyes like a sleepy hawk’s. Botan yawned behind her at the kitchen table, looking in similar need of caffeine. Sleepy though she appeared, Keiko glanced at Rei askance, eyes roving over her in an assessing sweep.

But it was Botan who spoke, smile drowsy and soft. “You’re up awfully early, Yamato.”

Rei laughed as she slipped into the chair beside Botan. “Back atcha.”

Keiko nodded at the coffee maker. “You put the pot on?”

“Yeah.”

“Bless you.” Keiko sighed, relieved. “I need it.”

“Up late?”

“Yes.” Keiko fought back a yawn. “But I’ve got too much to do to be sleeping in.”

“You should let Yusuke know,” Rei said with a slow smile of her own, “before he drags you off for another midnight garden makeout session.”

Keiko gasped. “You saw that!?”

“A good Fixer has eyes and ears everywhere.”

While Keiko grumbled about Yusuke keeping his hands to himself, flushing a pretty shade of pink all the while, Rei busied herself prepping breakfast and pretending she hadn't just intentionally deflected the conversation away from whatever the hell��she had been up to last night. Far better to embarrass Keiko into changing the subject herself than have her ask the reciprocal question of “Gee Rei, what did you get up to everyone else was sleeping? Fuck any foxes?” And with Botan sitting right there, this was a question Rei simply could not tolerate. Yes, yes, shift the narrative, Keiko…no one will suspect a thing…

And the tactic appeared to work, because Keiko immediately looked away, cleared her throat, and launched into a monologue. “Anyway. I have a lot of my plate today,” she said, looking anywhere but at Rei. “Mostly just making sure the logistics are in order. Flowers on time, the cake delivery, and of course the guests, more decor…” She stopped counting on her fingers when the dulcet sounds of ‘Fur Elise’ began to play from her pocket on tiny speakers. “Oh, speak of the devil, that’s probably the wedding band. Give me a second…”

Leave it to Keiko to have such a classy ring-tone, Rei thought to herself. She watched with a satisfied (dare I say it, smug) smile as Keiko left the kitchen. The bride-to-be looked quite grateful to have somewhere else to be if Rei was judging the sheepish look on her face accurately…

But Rei had lightly miscalculated the situation, because Botan was definitely still in the kitchen and absolutely gearing up to ask a question of her own, if the serious expression she aimed in Rei’s direction were any indication. Luckily the grim reaper had other things on her mind and asked an innocuous question; privately, Rei’s nerves deflated somewhat.

“Say, Yamato. Keiko and I were talking, and we were wondering — what do you plan to wear to the wedding?” Botan spoke with a degree of hesitation Rei didn't quite understand, as if worried about causing offense. “You packed in an awful hurry, and you didn’t get much warning that you’d be attending a wedding of all things…

Oh, so that was it. “Don’t worry,” Rei said. “I came prepared.”

Botan looked surprised (and Rei felt nearly offended after all). “You did? Really?”

“My friend,” said Rei with grave solemnity, “|I don’t travel anywhere without at least two evening looks in tow.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Oh yeah.” She had to suppress a laugh; to someone like Rei, the alternative was positively absurd. “Former ballroom dancer, hardcore girl’s girl — I have never traveled light in my entire life, and no amount of homicidal, eyeball-eating demons could hope to cramp my style.” But because Botan still looked adorably skeptical, Rei explained, “I brought three full sized suitcases on this little venture, if that tells you anything. At least two dresses in them ought to work for the wedding. I could even do an outfit change for the reception.”

The I-don’t-want-to-offend-you expression was back in full force. “Keiko will want to see the looks, if you don’t mind. Is that all right?”

“What, it’s not a color-coded dress code or something, is it?”

“No, she’s not that fussy.” Botan hesitated a moment. “But she does want to make a good impression on the demonic dignitaries.” Her eyes dropped, nervous. “So…”

Ah. So that was it. When it came to event attendance, Botan and Keiko had only seen Rei in some of her more egregious outfits: the men's-suit-with-no-shirt-on-underneath-and-a-neon-party-wig ensemble she had worn to the bachelor party, and her truly unfortunate Eastern European fortune teller get-up from the first night they’d all met, neither of which was sure to inspire much confidence in Rei’s ability to dress herself for a formal wedding. But Rei wasn't offended that Botan and Keiko wondered if she had packed wedding-appropriate attire before their madcap rush to reach the temple. Rei had been running around in spandex workout gear while training with Genkai, too, which was also the opposite of good wedding attire. Hell if Rei would ever begrudge a bride for caring about the appearance of her guests, especially if some of them were dignitaries from another dimension.

Another dimension. Jesus tap-dancing Christ. Rei would never get used to that.

“Oh, don't worry,” said Rei. “I have just put the doctor ordered. Or just what the wedding planner ordered. Whatever whoever is in charge ordered, I have, so — ”

The kitchen door burst open. Keiko stormed inside. She paced over to the stove and swiped up a coffee cup before snatching the coffee pot from its cradle. The coffee was still dripping from the filter, but she didn't appear to care, letting precious drops of it spill all over the overflow tray in her haste to get caffeine in her system. As soon as she could, she tossed back a shot with a grimace, face red, but probably not just because she had downed a scalding mouthful of coffee.

Call it a hunch, but when Keiko exclaimed “Oh, this is terrible!” with the expression of a person who’d just slipped and fallen in cow manure, Rei got a feeling her prediction was right on the money.

“Are you OK, Keiko?” Botan said. “Whatever is the matter?”

Keiko’s eyes flashed wild. “The band just canceled!”

“What?!”

“The band, the wedding band — they canceled!” Keiko threw up her hands, coffee sloshing over her bare wrist. She cursed and said, “They just played some festival and they all came down with the flu. The singer could barely even talk on the phone, he was so sick.”

Botan put a hand to her cheek “That’s terrible!”

“The wedding is the day after tomorrow.” Keiko moaned, cradling her singed wrist. “What am I going to do?”

“He didn’t have a replacement for you?” Rei asked with a frown.

“No. Should he have?”

“Most bands have friends in the community they can call if something like this happens." She had worked with enough of them in her day to know that much for sure. “And most contracts have a cancellation clause, too.”

“Well, he didn’t mention it, and I don’t remember what the contract said.” Keiko wrenched out her phone, fingers tapping franticly at the screen. “Do I have a copy handy? Oh, what am I going to do?”

“Could we call Koto, Juri and Ruka?” Botan asked. “They’re attending the wedding, so maybe their contacts — "

“Wait.” Rei stared at Botan in rapidly mounting shock. “Not that Koto, Juri and Ruka, right?”

The Demon Trio — an idol group that had debuted some years prior and reached meteoric heights in the Japanese entertainment world, whose fame and notoriety soon went international, cementing them as bonafide superstars all over the world. Their whole schtick was that they wore fake ears and tails (Juri and Koto) and did magic on stage as part of their act (Ruka), staying strictly in-character as supernatural beings while singing, dancing, and performing their very pretty asses off. Hell, their first album was called ‘Sirens,’ and it goes without saying they’d leaned into the gimmick whole hog.

At least, Rei had assumed it was all a gimmick. Like the rest of the world, Rei had chalked up their anatomical accoutrement to some kind of bizarre costuming choice. But with everything Rei had learned about the world (or worlds, to be more precise) over the past few days, she got the sense the Demon Trio’s little act may not have been an ‘act’ at all.

And like a guillotine coming down to sever Rei’s perception at the neck, Botan looked at her, sighed, and admitted: “Yes, that Koto, Juri and Ruka.”

“Oh my god,” said Rei.

“They’re old friends of ours,” said Keiko.

“Oh my god.”

“And they’re an instrumental part of the integration of demons into the world of humans,” added Botan.

“Oh my god!”

Botan smiled sympathetically at Rei, who had begun staring at the wall with the expression of a particularly stressed-out lobotomy patient. “You doing OK there, Yamato?”

“Oh, y’know. Just recalibrating my view of society and reality at large. Again.” Rei draped her arm over her eyes, head tipping backward over the back of her chair. “Every day at Genkai’s shrine is a new revelation for me, ya boy.”

Keiko hummed under her breath. “That’s not a bad idea to reach out to them, though. They have to know someone, right? At least a DJ…” She let out a groan. “And the band was supposed to play the wedding march!”

Keiko left the room in a hurry to make the call, Botan looking appropriately horrified on her behalf. Rei felt terrible for her too, of course. The wedding was the day after tomorrow, and here they were without a band for the reception. Sure, Rei could offer to DJ the party with her phone hooked up to a speaker (she certainly had an extensive enough music library for the job), but that was hardly the same thing as having a live band. Certainly less impressive, and it lacked the ambiance Keiko no doubt wanted to provide her royal guests. This was, without a doubt, an absolutely awful turn of events…

A pang of guilt speared her, cold and cutting. She squashed it down, though, ignoring the nagging voice in the back of her head as it struggled to be heard — and either Botan had eats like a bat or was a little psychic herself, because she looked at Rei and brought up the exact damn thing Rei was trying very hard not to think about. Rei often thought of herself as a cat with nine lives, but it seemed she’d used up all her subject-avoidance chances for the day in her earlier preemptive deflection with Keiko. Fuck.

“Well, Fixer.” Botan’s magenta eyes opened wide and plaintive. “Any ideas Keiko knows the Demon Trio, but you know some entertainers of your own, don’t you? Maybe your burlesque friends have connections we could leverage?”

“Yeah.” Rei swallowed, studying her coffee cup. “Maybe.”

But ‘maybe’ was a damn lie, because Rei did have connections she could leverage. One in particular she had no doubt would come through for her in a flash, in fact. In spite of that certainty and her loyalty to Keiko both screaming at her to make the call, Rei did not get her phone out of her pocket. Instead she waited, sipping her coffee in silence while Botan fretted, until Keiko returned to the kitchen looking equal parts panicked and morose.

“Koto and the others are so busy, I can’t get a hold of them,” she said, slumping into a seat and putting her forehead on the table. “Their manager couldn’t even get them on the phone.”

“Oh no!” Botan turned to Rei again, looking more plaintive than ever. “Yamato? You said you maybe had something?”

Rei sucked in a breath. “Well — “

She started to say no, because dammit, that’s what she wanted to say, what she needed to say. But then Keiko swung hopeful eyes her way, and the words died on Rei’s lips.

“Yamato? Do you have an idea?” she asked.

And Rei's willpower crumbled like a sand castle on an angry shore, because Keiko’s tentative smile and pleading eyes cut to the heart and dissolved her defenses in one heavy wave. Rei sighed and patted her wig, slowly getting up from the table as a hollow formed in the pit of her belly.

“It’s not a sure thing, but yeah,” Rei said, every word heavy on her tongue. “There’s a call I can make.”

CLICK HERE TO READ THE REST OF CHAPTER 24 ON AO3!

[emophil1981]

Posted by Sebleloot found on Deviantart

Finn and Caleb - a shared secret!

Finn Matthews had always felt like he was balancing on a tightrope, high above the chaos of Crowley High School. At eighteen years, with dreams as vivid and wild as the graffiti that adorned the school’s crumbling walls, he was both a student and a secret keeper—guarding two identities that were stitched together like a patchwork quilt, each square woven with longing and hidden desires.

The bell rang, echoing through the bustling corridors like a clarion call to chaos. Palms sweating slightly, Finn brushed back a stray lock of dark hair that had fallen across his forehead, taking a deep breath as he stepped into the familiar classroom, the scent of chalk and old textbooks mingling in the air. He found his usual spot at the back of the room, where he could partially hide from both the teacher’s gaze and the pupils' bewildering social dynamics.

As his classmates settled in, the low murmur of chatter filled the air. Finn watched as Caleb Dawson, the star athlete, kicked off his sneakers under the desk and stretched his legs, the fabric of his worn socks a tapestry of bold stripes—each color pulsating like a heartbeat. Finn’s heart raced, an electric current coursing through him, mixing thrills of both admiration and yearning. The delightful dance of feet, the squeeze of toes, the way socks slid against each other—it pulled at something deep within him, a yearning that felt like an inexplicable magic.

He could hear snippets of conversation that drifted through the classroom, punctuated by laughter and playful banter, but to Finn, it was all background noise. He let his gaze drift, focusing on the way Caleb absentmindedly twirled a striped sock between his fingers while his other foot playfully scratched at the carpet tiles beneath the desk. There was something intensely vulnerable about that simple act—something raw that hinted at an uninhibited side of his usually polished classmate.

Yet Finn’s secret was a perilous thing, dangerous and intense. Each time he lifted the fabric of his own experiences, the threads of fear tangled into knots. Would his friends, his family, accept him if they knew? Would they recoil from him? He couldn’t even find the words to express his true self, let alone the peculiar fetish that whispered to him in shameful tones.

He jumped at the soft sound of laughter erupting from a nearby group of girls who had just finished sharing an inside joke. Their jovial energy was magnetic, pulling Finn's eyes away from the rhythm of Caleb's foot movements, but the spell was short-lived. The bell rang again, disrupting his spiraling thoughts, and the chaos of students filing out created a rush of bodies, breezing past him like a windstorm.

Knowing he had a brief moment of freedom before the next class began, Finn slipped out of the classroom and headed for the locker room, adrenaline spiking in his veins. It was a risk, but the thrill was intoxicating.

The locker room was dimly lit and smelled of sweat, rubber, and the odd lingering aroma of fresh detergent. Finn walked lightly, his heart thudding pleasantly against his ribcage as he navigated the chlorine-saturated air towards the rows of lockers. He could almost hear the echoes of laughter from the gym, a distant melody of camaraderie that both drew him in and pushed him away.

There, tucked away in the corner locker, he found what he was searching for—a pair of sneakers left unattended, laces untied, the unmistakable scent that spoke to his hidden fascination drifting through the air. He cringed at the guilt bubbling within him but silenced it for a moment, overcome by curiosity.

Finn knelt then, inhaling the warmth of the worn fabric, captivated by the secret world held within each thread. Time slipped away as he lost himself in the fragrance of youth, sweat, and secret stories told only through the remnants of forgotten socks and the contours of fading sneakers. Each breath filled him with dizzying exhilaration, moments of heady escape from the confines of his hidden reality.

But the sound of footsteps approaching jerked Finn from his reverie, heart racing at the thought of being caught. He hastily backed away, slipping silently out of the locker room before he could be discovered, the exhilarating mix of fear and thrill flooding his senses as he re-entered the bustle of the hallway.

As he navigated the throngs of students, Finn’s thoughts swirled with conflicting emotions: the tantalizing pull of his hidden desires and the anxiety that lingered like a shadow, always close behind. Would he ever find the courage to unveil the layers of his heart? The question haunted him as he wandered through the hall, searching for a place to belong, a sanctuary where he could be both unique and unashamed.

But for now, Finn knew, he was simply a spectator in his own life, balancing precariously on that tightrope, waiting for the moment he might finally dare to leap.

Finn had promised himself that he wouldn’t return to the locker room, that he would take the long way around the school from now on to avoid the dangerously intoxicating scent of old sneakers and the thrill of the forbidden. But with the weight of another long day pressing down on him and his heart aching with turmoil, he found himself drawn back as if by an invisible thread.

This time, the locker room felt different—charged with a sense of urgency as he stepped stealthily past the row of metal lockers that loomed like sentinels in the fading light. The familiar, intoxicating aroma wafted through the air, wrapping around him like a delicate embrace. Finn knelt beside a pair of sneakers, inhaling deeply, feeling the tension within him begin to dissolve under the warmth of his secret.

But as he lost himself in the fabric and scent, he didn’t notice the soft creak of the door swinging open behind him. A sound—footsteps on linoleum—snapped him back to reality.

Before he had a chance to move, Caleb Dawson entered the locker room, his tall, athletic frame filling the space. The sunlight that filtered in through the frosted glass cast a halo around him, a rare moment of vulnerability juxtaposed against the brash confidence of the quarterback persona Finn had known. But now, Caleb's face was contemplative, curious—watching him.

“What are you doing, Finn?” Caleb's voice was soft, almost hesitant, piercing through the enveloping silence.

Finn’s heart catapulted into his throat as he turned to face Caleb, dread and embarrassment colliding in a jarring wave. He fell onto his bottom, scrambling back, his mind racing with unthinkable scenarios. Would Caleb laugh? Would he tell everyone? Would Finn’s existence in the high school hierarchy shift to a crueler order, the target of jokes and disdain?

Yet, as he looked into Caleb’s deep-set brown eyes, he found not disdain but a perplexing warmth. What Finn didn’t know was that Caleb had been navigating the same treacherous waters, hiding a part of himself he felt he could never share. Caleb had long admired the quiet guy who lingered at the edges of their social sphere.

Finn’s breath hitched, layers of fear and shame boiling over as he burst into tears—shaking uncontrollably beneath the weight of his secret being exposed. "I’m sorry! I shouldn’t be here—I didn’t mean to—it’s just—” words tumbled out, twisted and broken, as Finn pressed his hands to his face, hot tears cascading down.

But then, to his shock, Caleb stepped forward. With a grace that belied his size, he knelt down beside Finn, strong hands reaching out to touch his shoulder, grounding him when he felt like he might drift away. “Hey,” he murmured softly, “it’s okay. You don’t have to apologize.”

Finn blinked through his tears, stunned. “You don’t understand… I mean, I—”

“No, I do,” Caleb interrupted gently, his voice steady despite the vulnerability in his own eyes as he wiped the tears from Finn’s cheeks with the gentle brush of his thumb. “I get it more than you know. Trust me.”

Caleb’s admission hung in the air, raw and electric. The quarterback, idolized and invincible in the eyes of their peers, revealed a fragility mixed with depth that directed the course of Finn’s rushed emotions into a torrent of relief, confusion, and something that felt very close to hope.

“But, I’m…” Finn struggled to articulate what he had kept locked away for so long, but the words got trapped somewhere between fear and desire. “I’m gay.”

Caleb’s gaze softened, and a silent understanding passed between them, a silent acknowledgment of their shared reality. “So am I.”

Finn gasped lightly, caught off guard by the concreteness of Caleb's admission. “You?”

The quarterback nodded, his own voice trembling as he continued, “I’ve felt like I had to hide it forever. Everyone expects me to be this... perfect athlete, and I can't let them see me as I am.” Caleb's façade cracked, and a tear glistened in the corner of his eye. “And I’ve got my own… peculiar interests, like you. I thought I was the only one. I swear, if I saw you doing this even two minutes earlier, I would’ve lost it. But all I could think about was how the world can be so cruel to us, and here we are, where we shouldn’t feel ashamed.”

Finn looked up at Caleb, their realities peeling back layers of isolation and fear. This unexpected connection felt electric, a profound knot tying their fates—two young men, seeking solace in what society deemed forbidden.

Caleb reached forward, pulling Finn into a gentle embrace, enveloping him in the warmth of understanding and acceptance. Finn melted into Caleb’s hold, feeling the tension ebb away as he buried his face against the sturdy breadth of the quarterback’s shoulder. It felt safe there, a sanctuary of shared secrets.

“I thought I would be punished for this,” Finn murmured through his tears, voice muffled against the fabric of Caleb’s shirt. "But… you’re okay with it?”

“More than okay,” Caleb replied, his voice steady and sincere. “This is a relief for me, too. No more hiding.”

They sat there, wrapped in each other’s embrace as the enormity of their secrets bore down. The locker room, once a place rife with danger and shame, transformed into a cocoon—a space where they could begin to untangle the threads of their identities together and finally breathe.

As the seconds passed, they drew strength from one another in the middle of a world that had seemed so isolating. For the first time in a long time, the weight of their double lives felt less suffocating. They had both reached across the chasm of judgment and fear, finding companionship in their shared truths—a trembling hope flickering to life against the odds.

The sun dipped low in the sky, casting long warm shadows across the parking lot as the final bell of the day resonated through the halls of Crowley High. Finn and Caleb lingered by the exit, their nervous excitement crackling in the air. The heaviness of secrets they had shared hung between them, now mingling with something new—a burgeoning friendship that felt like a lifeline, anchoring them against a world that often felt chaotic and unwelcoming.

“Hey,” Finn said, fidgeting with the hem of his T-shirt, his heart racing. “If you’re free after school... I mean, I was thinking maybe you’d want to come over. My parents are out of town.”

Caleb’s eyes widened slightly, his expression shifting to one of genuine intrigue. “Over to your place?”

Finn nodded, cheeks flushing. “I promise I won’t put you to work or anything—I just thought maybe we could hang out. You know… get to know each other better.”

Caleb’s smile broke through, easing any lingering tension. “Yeah, I’d like that. A lot.”

They walked to the parking lot together, hearts drumming in synchronized excitement. Finn's palms felt sweaty, a good kind of apprehension settling in as he led the way to his car. He felt lighter than he had in years—he was no longer alone.

As they pulled up to Finn’s house, Caleb’s eyes widened in awe. The mansion loomed large, framed by well-manicured hedges and lined with intricate stonework that spoke of historic elegance. “Whoa,” he breathed, chuckling slightly as they parked. “You weren’t kidding about living in a nice part of town. This is incredible.”

Finn chuckled nervously but felt a sense of pride. “It’s just a house, really. It was always just my parents’ thing. I usually prefer being outside or at school.”

When they stepped inside, a cool wave of air greeted them, starkly contrasting the warm summer day outside. The interior was expansive, adorned with tasteful art and subtle hints of luxury. “Make yourself at home,” Finn said, his voice echoing slightly in the foyer.

Caleb slipped off his sneakers, the casual move revealing a soft ocean of colors in his socks—delightful reminders of the spirited person Finn had come to admire. Finn followed suit, freeing his own feet from the confines of his worn sneakers, revealing striped socks that looked decidedly less pristine by comparison.

As they settled into the spacious living room, an unexpected silence settled between them, filled with the buzz of quiet exploration. Finn felt almost shy as he caught glimpses of Caleb’s sock-clad feet, curiosity blooming within him. “I know it sounds strange,” Finn murmured, glancing sideways, “but I like socks. The way they feel… the way they look.”

To his surprise, Caleb's eyes sparkled with delight. “I get that! It’s kind of fascinating, isn’t it?”

The conversation surged forward as they began to share their thoughts on different fabrics, patterns, and colors, laughter spilling out during each exchange. Finn felt the tension dissolve as they navigated their interests, an intimate bond unfurling in shared confessions and animated discussions.

“Wanna see my room?” Finn asked, emboldened by the warmth of their growing connection.

“Sure!” Caleb said, excitement lighting up his features.

Finn led the way upstairs, his heart racing with anticipation. The moment they entered his room, the atmosphere shifted into something cozy and private, a sanctuary where secrets could flourish. The walls were adorned with posters of his favorite bands and splashes of vibrant colors, a testament to his creative spirit.

“Nice digs, Finn,” Caleb said, clearly impressed.

“Thanks!” Finn grinned shyly, motioning to the plush rug at the center of the room. “Want to sit?”

They settled on the rug, legs crossed. As they faced each other, a lingering sense of curiosity remained, the space between them pulsing with anticipation. Finn marveled at the sight of Caleb’s feet, adorned in soft cotton socks, and felt a pull that he hadn’t anticipated. “Can I—um, can we sniff each other’s socks?” The words tumbled out, laced with a nervous thrill.

Caleb blinked, a grin spreading across his face as he nodded. “Are you serious? I thought I was the only one who did that!”

With shared laughter—an expression of new vulnerability—they both lifted their feet, bringing them closer. Finn inhaled the earthy scent of Caleb’s socks, a mix of musk and fresh fabric that sent a ripple of exhilaration through him. Caleb reciprocated, giving a soft chuckle as he brought his face closer to Finn’s feet, the moment imbued with something deeper than mere curiosity.

The intimacy of the act made the air thick with something new, a tidal wave of connection that washed over them, pulling them closer. Finn’s heart raced at the realization that this was beyond mere infatuation—it was a shared exploration of raw honesty.

As they both pulled back, snickering, bricks of tension had crumbled, making way for something even sweeter. Caleb reached out, brushing his fingers along the back of Finn’s hand, the gesture electrifying in its simplicity. The thoughtful caress transformed into something deeper, an unspoken invitation.

Finn felt his cheeks burn as the space between them began to shrink, the uncharted territory beckoning just beyond reach. They leaned in closer, tentative at first but fueled by an impulse that seemed impossible to resist.

When their lips met, it was soft and tentative, sweet as the first notes of a beautiful melody. Finn wrapped his arms around Caleb, pulling him tighter as they melted into each other. The warmth of their bodies created a bubble where the outside world faded away—school, expectations, fears—all slipped into the background.

They stayed entwined in each other’s embrace, sharing soft touches and tentative kisses, relishing the moment as their fears melted into newfound hope. Finn’s heart raced, not with anxiety but with the promise of acceptance, with the joy of companionship—of being seen for who he truly was.

As they pulled away slightly, both breathless with the sudden rush of emotions, Caleb’s smile mirrored Finn’s—shared delight, warmth, and an understanding that they were not alone anymore. There was a spark, a glimmer of possibility in the air, and both knew they were embarking on a journey far richer than the secrets they had kept locked away for too long. In each other, they found both solace and the potential for something special, a connection that transcended the ordinary—a friendship, perhaps, blossoming into something deeper.

[incorrect-riordanverse]

Lavinia: so you never dance?

Lester: I’m told I look like a marionette in a windstorm

Meg: *nodding in the background*

[vgperson]

Vocaloid Highlights: April 2023

No foolin', she IS the star. Highlights Archive

========== Stand-Outs ========== April Star Toe Loop Cheap Property King Queen Jack Dance Samsa Heart-Fluttering Star☆Land! Nero Misfortune All Ameri A Brief History of Us Gourami Kiss Spring Express Train Unclear Wisdom Requiem Startling Dystopia Kotonoha Dance Da-Da-Da-Dance Strobe Caster Euphobia Record of Exile Simulcaster Know Misery Rain Shelter Babel Obscured Mad Head Worm Open Eyes Lost in Void

========== Worth Your Time ========== Anomaly You-Colored Sky Non-Inevitable Greed Gazer One Day At A Time Ms. Dummy Insomnia Meaningless Music FROM A TREASURE BOX On a Night of Red Ruin Be The MUSIC! Closing the Distance to You Absolute Status Quo Keeping Imitation in the Mirror Burnit!! Plant Human MAGIC CITY NIGHT Diva In Praise of Youth Apple and Pomegranate Retro Future Being Dream Dancer Rainy Noise Words Are Longing To Get Out Happy End Konpeito and Love Horoscope Let Me See Water Space Ultramarine Let's Die Together With the Piano After It Breaks You Don't Listen To People, Huh Fleeting Eternity RED Final Correspondence Muddy Bouquet Demo Song Dream Girl I'm Home Haustier Conspiracist I Just Can't Live SUSHI-GO-ROUND Destruction Girl The Same Outcome Gerbera Lost Forever Impurity save to heart Aster Stop the HICCUP Midnight Railroad Crossing Last Order Spring Haze, Clouding in Windstorms If Life Has a Weight Happy Creator Te-Te-Te Metamorphose Lost City Girl Love and Sakura are Moments. Season's Cheeks and Wonderland Night Walk Gold Prize Rainy Raine-chan '89 Da Da Dawn Our Experiment Sound of Spring's Departure Trash Can Search Climber Wind Sprint Won't Kill Divine Possession Parallel White Clouds Lethal Pervert Waiting in the Sea Sorrow's Pocket Nothing to Sell But Kindness Light Blue Damage Fashion Poor Loser Gymnastics #1 Seriously Sick Blossom Scar PAREIDO (Parade) Anaphylaxis X-Mark Batter Your Point of View The Day I Learned Love PLUG→OUT Labyrinth Lamentin' Bein' Sick (Special Version) Reminiscence Poetry Vanity L Violet Refrain & Remind Round and Round and Under Teto-Teto-Toteto Monologue The Day's End Boiling Isol-ization (2023 ver.) Beyond Sleep, It Doesn't Rain. You said you love me

[lucyav13]

Dimentio

A more deep investigation about this emblematic character.

His name is a pun on "dementia" and "dimension". Like Mario and Mimi, he can flip between dimensions, but he can also manipulate them (an ability he shares with Merloo).

A theory says that the surviving son of the pixl inventor is his ancestor.

In the english version, Tippi seems to inmediatly recognize Dimentio upon encountering first. However, in the original Japanese script, her reaction is more ambiguous, afirmaning that Dimentio is one of the Count's minions.

Dimentio originally intended for Dimension D to multiply his power by 256. Upon winning the battle against him, the player character claims that the dimension made them more powerful as well, leaving everyone's stats unchanged relative to each other. This may be a homage to 8-bit storage capacity: 8-bit integers have 256 possible values, so adding 256 (although not multiplying by it) will overflow the integer and result in no net change.

 The void is absent from the background of this dimension.

According to Carson, Dimentio approached the Count on his own, wishing to join him. While he was turned down once, he was hired after Bleck read about someone having a similar role in the Dark Prognosticus...

My theory: Dimentio is impure. But not the son of Blumiere or Timapni. The tribe of darkness knew the power and monstrosity of the impures thanks to him. As the tribe saw how dangerous it was and the consequences it would bring, he was left forgotten along with his parents. Maybe that's why he's an impure. For this reason, Timpani, in one of his many visits, was able to see him and his family being thrown out of the tribe. Since he has floating hands and teleportation powers, just like the Count Bleck.

But his mask doesn't let us see how he really is...

Aditional information:

Catch Card: 195

HP Max: 80

Attack: 4

Defense:

Score: 8000

Card Description: Dimentio is Count Bleck's dimension-bending mercenary. The question is, do psycho jesters get good benefits?

Tattle: That's Dimentio... A magician who works for Count Bleck... He's like an evil clown... He'll use many magic tricks, including making doubles of himself... It's hard to get a read on this suspicious character...

Quotes:

"And so I arrive, like a sudden windstorm at a kindergarten picnic!"

"Ah ha ha. Finally, you arrive!"

"Yes, yes, no one likes the icky stuff... Yessss... A perfect world... Sounds magical!..."

"It would be so very DULL if your journey ended so easily... Instead, it ends with...magic!"

"It is truly enchanting to finally meet my hapless victims."

"You must be Bowser. I knew the moment I saw the flailing nubbins you call arms."

"Well met, lady. Your beauty is as refreshing as a slap to the face on a crisp winter day!"

"At last, the hero... I know of you from the festival of hair that dances upon your lip!"

"Now we must duel, like two gleaming banjos on a moonlit stoop!"

"Can you pierce this...illusion?"

"Your blows are like miniature jackhammers wielded by tiny, angry road workers!"

"The next time we meet, you will feast on a deadly eight-course meal!"

"I am not violent by nature, you know. I'd prefer to settle this peacefully, in fact."

"Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. Again, for dramatic effect! AH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA."

"You've proven to be worthy foes in the past, so I'm not going to make it easy."

"I'm saying that you no longer have value to me, so I'm ending your games."

"And so I strike, like an unseen dodgeball at an echoing gymnasium!"

"Ciao!"

The above text is from the Super Mario Wiki and is available under a Creative Commons license. Attribution must be provided through a list of authors or a link back to the original article. Source: https://www.mariowiki.com/Dimentio

(A:N) If you want to share any theory that you have had, let me know in the comments and I will rate your theory in a part of this book. Bye!

[diosama27]

Yami Sukehiro

It was such a beautiful night as you were walking back home worn out after work. There were no people around as it was pretty late into the night. You just enjoyed the late night summer breeze along with some perfectly fit aesthetic music.

You walked alongside the road humming to that one particular song which you simply couldn't get off of your mind, as you plugged in your headphones and played that same song which had the necessity to be heard more than once, the feeling was beatific.

You enjoyed your night vaguely noticing some tried figures of other late workers walking, as they dragged themselves home the same way as you. Well atleast you had your songs.

It was Saturday so you could just blow off your pent up steam tomorrow atleast. You walked alongside the road while millions of thoughts lingered in your brain.

Suddenly you noticed something pass by but couldn't figure out what it was, you only felt the speed of the passing body through the force of the air with which it hit you. Before even you could realise that it was a motorcycle, it was long gone and now out of your sight.

You heard a faint siren of the police which caught your attention now that your headphones were plugged off while you searched for the source of that windstorm you experienced before.

The siren was roaring louder than before ringing in your ears as the vehicle was now in close proximity.

You waited in the same spot to feed your curiosity as to why was a patrol car out there chasing someone this late while it's sirens were blaring across the street, since it's not a usual thing in your place.

As you stood there another motorcycle was coming towards you fast but not as fast as the previous one and you could see the police were just behind him.

He was using only his left hand to balance the motorcycle steering and the other to support his head as his elbow rested on his thigh.

He saw you for a brief moment, and he honked pretty hard while he was passing by, but you didn't mind it though. Even if you were the only person around as other late workers were far ahead as a result of your stupid curiosity.

It started to feel uncomfortable as he kept staring your way even after he passed by. He was freaking chased after by the Cops and still this guy had the guts to ogle his eyes at other people.

But to be honest that momentary eye contact from this stranger made your heart flutter and gave you butterflies.

Time stopped for you and you could say the same for him by the way he was looking at you.

The rest of the world kept moving forward but you were static and only the different types of emotions were briming within you.

The way his eyes grew wider and wider as he came close to you. You have never believed in love at first sight, that was bullshit to you but now you have a whole new hypothesis.

His wide eyes, the slightly parted mouth, the way his dark ebony hair swayed and danced along with the gusting wind.

The eye contact you shared with this stranger didn't even last for a couple of seconds but the it felt like decades.

He could've gotten into an accident by the way he turned his whole head and was staring right into your soul. But right before the police caught up to him he vanished into a turn.

He took a cut at a narrow alley ahead as he escaped the chase. The police were not able to further the case. So they moved forward in hope of catching the previous guy.

Now you preferred only some peace and no songs in your walk because your phone was about to die any minute and at the exact moment you hear the same horn again but now with certain pauses.

You turned to confirm wether your bizzare guess was right, well guess what? It was.

It was the same guy who was freaking holding his damned head by supporting his elbow on his thigh as the "police were chasing him"; who had the audacity to ogle at people while being "chased"; and who was freaking shifting himself perfectly to see you even after passing by on the motorcycle while "being freaking chased", now he came from behind you once more honking his way towards you.

You gasped as he was just straight away from you and as to why this man is here or is he not afraid of getting caught or wether this other guy from before was caught by the police or not and all those thoughts which every random stranger would've had in this scenario.

He speed before you and parked his bike dead ahead of you.

Well now it was obvious that you somehow got yourself entangled into something which could be alot harder to get away with.

Why was the guy who was being "chased by the police" glancing at me?? I don't know.

So why is he now standing before me?? I guess we'll never know.

Is he a criminal? Maybe. Wait what the hell yn.

If so, could he be a kidnapper? No way, just look at him, he's attractive, but maybe, like who knows.

Even if he's one, there's no way he's gonna take me even if he want to, he just couldn't "perks of being a big girl".

(AN: Laughing in cardi)

(AN: Gurl let's be real; he... You mean him, he could freaking sabotage a tank if he wanted to)

As all these stupid thoughts kept flooding your brain he just stood before you. You saw him and took a few strides opposite to him and made sure there was enough space between the two of you.

"Heyyy?" You heard him speak, you knew it was you who he was calling out to but you pretended to think that you were wrong.

It could be creepy, a guy starting a conversation in an empty road in the middle of the night with no fucking people around, just before when you witnessed him on a motorcycle while the police were after him, "It's some creepy ass stuff even if the guy is attractive as hell, it is sure creepy"

You hear him call out more and abruptly he races before you and blocks your way. "Well, well, it's you I'm calling to darling".

Now he was infront of you, shoulders hunched to reach your eye level. You could smell alcohol and a mix of cigar in his breath as he speaks. "Maybe he's drunk" you thought.

"Hellooo... Earth to miss beautiful here" he says while snapping his fingers infront of you to take back your attention.

"I'm sorry, I don't know who you are" you say as you try to walk past him. Instead he just strides past you and stops you again.

"I know you don't know who I am, that's why I think it will be my pleasure if we both could get to know each other" he says in a flirty tone as a coquettish smirk creeps on his face. He moves his raven hair out of his face.

His right hand travels to grab your right hand as gentle as possible and holds the back of your hand moving it closer towards his face.

"May I ???" he asks for your permission to kiss your hand.

If this man didn't smell like fucking alcohol or if you didn't personally authenticate him being pursued by the police, you would've thought that he was "one hell of a gentleman who you would die to get".

You loose your composure even with the minimum share of physical contact with this resplendent stranger. He makes you nervous, well who could not be? Literally he was furtively moving towards you the whole time.

As you stand there in a daze, he motions his face, inching towards the back of your hand, you could feel his "steamy" hot breath, as your heart starts to pump more red blood cells to that one particular area of your hand where you could feel his breath which started to induce heat all over from your face.

You pulled your hand away before it could touch his lips, those beautifully drawn, glossed lips, which could captivate you in the state of a more blissful nirvana that you could never attain by yourself.

If only you could just fall right between those heavenly lips of his, you would get consumed with the darkness and lust of your soul and his while exploring a new and different world in them, which I assure you that you would love and proclaim as yours.

"Now.... Did I just take the awkward turn. Shitttt" he cussed. "I'm sorry, but i hope we could start again. I'm Yami Sukehiro. Could I be honoured to be acknowledged by your presence and blessed by your name" he says as the pounding in your heart was about to go silent any minute now.

This night with this creepy handsome stranger could result in 'literally' taking your breath away.

You stand there as steam radiates from your body and as you're imaginary nose bleeding makes you anemic.

"I'm sorry, I'm not interested. It's late I should get going" you say as you walk away, when you feel him not persuading you anymore you felt the relief what you'd feel when your almost full bladder which was about to burst just a minute ago is now being unloaded slowly intensifying the relief, yeah, exactly, that's how you felt.

Promptly you heard his heavy steps approaching you as you darted ahead on the road as nimble as you could only for him to block you again.

Now he coerced a piece of paper into your plam and signalled you to call him using his hand and waited for your reply.

You just nod your head without making any eye contact as you hear him say "Is that a yes?" For which he didn't get a reply as you swiftly paced away from the scene with hearing no more chasing and approaching foot steps you further crumbled the paper in your hands which was now gonna sit on your nightstand forever or in your apartment trashcan considering it as some paper scrap as there is no way in hell you would willing call a stranger who made you feel soo many ways within a couple of hours.

The tranquillity that this incident would just be a "I was creeped out by a weirdo on a late night Saturday" in your dairy or notes but instead beginning to collapse the serenity you obtained as you find him again and again on the same road to your apartment for it to be more than a mere coincidence as days pass by. While you persistently try to avoid him, you knew that you fucked up real good this time.

[fiberturkey89]

Wind Dragon of the First Realm headcanons/lore pt2.

Whilst the Lightning Dragon is often considered to be the fiercer sibling of the Sky Serpents with its crackling lightning and thunder, make no mistake. The Wind Dragon is often associated in smaller folktales with the likes of hurricanes, typhoons, cyclones, dust devils, blizzards, and even sandstorms.

Wind Dragons are capable of producing sonic booms by cracking their tails with so much force that it is said to rival the constant roar of hurricanes by drowning them out and anything similar momentarily. Lightning Dragon's may be loud, but a Wind Dragon will always be louder.

Previous to the Oni and Dragon War, Wind Dragons were often seen as either positive or negative omens to various farmers dependent on the season. Inland farmers would view many Wind Dragons travelling to the coast as an omen of rain. Too few across the interior lands would mean either a drought or sandstorm.

In fact, Wind Dragons are often considered the most peaceful. Many tales from the Dragon Hunter's predecessors the Eclispan People, old stories of how they would request rainstorms to aid their crops in dire times and other locations would request for them to take sandstorms and blizzards away.

Wind Dragons were once widespread across the First Realm. Found anywhere from open oceans in the sky, vast deserts to the shearing cold of the mountains or tundra's that are found in the northern most reaches of the First Realm.

However..

Wind Dragons would be hunted en masse during the Oni and Dragon War- for the Oni knew of the great power the second Sky Dragon held over the weather and feared it. There were also rumours of the Wind Dragons being able to possess Lightning, like how Ice can use Water and vice versa. Yet, this has not been proven even in recent times...

During the war period, the Sentinels (Term used for the rank above Arc Dragons in the First Realm) of Wind and Water Dragons known as Squall and Current would be killed early on by the Oni Warlords named Hollow and Chasm. Their souls, alongside many others, would later then become the being known as "Mala-Wohira." The Ampithere of Wave and Storm.

Whilst Primordial Wind Dragons are native only to the First Realm, it is thought that the various types that live in Djinnjago are distant descendents of the immigrates who were looking to leave their war torn home, even as they took on the other Elements.

Culturally, the Primordials in the First Realm believe that heavy weather in the form of windstorms will allow the souls to pass easily as they are being picked up and taken to the afterlife realms. This is why they often share final resting places with Ice Dragons up in the mountains.

Whereas it is the opposite in Djinnjago. There, they are of the belief that open skies whether day or night will allow the souls to ascend easily to the Departed Realm and Realm of Remnants. (Zanth is one of the few remaining of her realm who practices this)

Celebrations wise, tornados of First Realm Wind Dragons will congregate in locations that are extremely windy to perform dances and rituals to usher in a new years beginning thats only happens once a year. Other than that, it is a way to reconnect and remember those who have fallen/greet newcomers to their world.

[justlarkin]

Yoshitsune gremlin this, Yoshitsune unhinged that. Let's discuss how fucked Ainurakkur is lol. His mother was accidentally reduced to everburning charcoal by his dad and since it says her remains are forever providing warmth for him, I guess he just carries around her corpse. Normal behavior. Casually massacres any opponent. Burned down an entire realm, murdering everyone there. Brutalized a wind goddess for being annoying in the most passive-aggressive way ever lol. Murdered his wife's brother when he tried to stop him from kidnapping her and threatened to do the same to her if she didn't comply. Just in Housamo alone, he's a brainwashed, child soldier, who was raised with the sole purpose of taking down his enemy by any means necessary and sacrificing himself. We're sleeping on this creature too much.

-Keep thinking about Ainurakkur occasionally mentioning that his mother is always with him and patting his chest, and everyone just assumes that he means figuratively, in his heart. While he actually just keeps her charred remains in his breast pocket. She's still warm. 

-The Wind Goddess story is actually really funny because why did she decide to decimate an innocent village by dancing up a windstorm because she got bored and then get mad when she couldn't destroy his house?? That's why he showed up to her house later like "That was a cool dance, here's mine," and destroyed her home and fucked her up to an inch of her life before being like "Just kidding" and reversing all the damage. Bro was crazy for that.

-I always forget to mention it, but Kanna probably is the dragon whose protection he has in Housamo since his weapon is blessed with Kanna's power. It can summon lightning to annihilate evil, so what I'm really saying is that he's He-Man.