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astralglam · 4 years ago

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𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 .

1. What does your muse smell like?

without soap or perfume, 683 smells bizarrely sterile, chemical-ish, like a dentist’s office, bleach or cleaning supplies. like hand sanitizer that kills 99.9% of germs. they have that faint smell of powdery clean cosmetics, only because they wear so much foundation, face powder and setting spray. humans like things that smell less artificial, so 683 takes to using cheap perfume (think a teenager who just learned to douse themselves with axe or bath and bodyworks spray), which is artificial in a slightly more palatable way. their clothes (which are almost all second hand) have that mothball-musty smell of a thrifted dress that hasn’t been washed yet, like an old book.

2. What do your muse’s hands feel like?

cold, frigid and icy, almost like a mannequin’s if you left the mannequin in the freezer. their skin is tight over their tendons and fingers, with almost waxy, plasticy skin stretched over their joints and knuckles, which makes them seem very fragile. sometimes their palms are uncannily clammy. their skin on their palms isn’t rough or calloused but they’re starting to get scars on their fingertips from their voyages into the realm of string instruments. they used to have very neat, clean and unpainted nails, but nowadays, they have divots and cracks because 683 is clumsy with the strings.

3. What does your muse usually eat in a day?

683 is often at the mercy of when their friends will decide to cook for them/buy them food. they don’t have any cooking skills and can barely wash and cut an apple (this isn’t because they’re stupid, on atomina they were used to communal dining with a designated set of people who cooked for everyone in their unit). 683 is naturally accustomed to eating plant matter and (unlike us humans) has a way better digestive system for breaking down cellulose and gets a lot more out of their vegetarian diet than you might expect (two stomachs aint for nothin). left to their own devices they just eat Whatever (orange? handfuls of spinach, unwashed, pesticides dont hurt them. microwave a tomato and watch it explode. brave cutting open an avocado and just eating it with a spoon). dinner is when priscilla either buys him take out or sid cooks something for him (and sid is an amazing cook!!!). sid isn’t vegetarian, but his family is, so he knows how to make all kinds of dishes perfect for 683 -- substitute the dairy for nondiary alternatives and 683′s getting matter paneer (with tofu instead), malai kofta (with coconut milk), and aloo gobi (no butter), all sorts of things !!!

4. Does your muse have a good singing voice?

sort of. 683′s voice, by itself, is nasally and weird and a little grating, but their devotion to music lets them make the most out of their “strange” voice and almost use it to their benefit to sound unique, different, super far out !11!11111 their lyrics, instrumentals and emotion combined is what makes them a talented musician rather than just a good quality voice. so while they might not have a very pretty voice, they’re still a skilled singer due to their delivery.

5. Does your muse have any bad habits or nervous ticks?

im assuming this is about bad (physical) habits rather than personality deficiencies (of which 683 has many). 683 stares, like, really just stares at people with reckless abandon, they havent figured out it’s rude. they arent good at even pretending to listen so if they’re disinterested in what you have to say, they’ll look elsewhere, pick at their nails, mumble or interrupt you. always finds a way to make the conversation about themself. very disorganized and messy, has a hard time taking care of objects even if they value them (ex. dropping his guitar, misplacing jewelry, yanking a belt off and breaking it). definitely self pities and has no problem trying to guilt you for everything and anything. is a pretty frequent smoker, but is polite enough not to smoke if you ask him not to.

683 is always a little nervous so their nervous ticks are just their baseline state of being (wringing hands, stammering, talking really fast, making insane gestures all around you but being too afraid to touch you, etc)

6. What does your muse usually look like / wear?

683 looks very put together at all times -- not necessarily polished or professional, but very intentional, in that you can tell they definitely made a conscious choice to dress the way they do. he wore the same dumb uniform every day for the first 20 years of his life, so he’s very excited to try new clothing options.

more femme-ish clothing preferences go to boxy, sleeveless a-line dresses, miniskirts, bright floral patterns, big plastic earrings, headbands, scarves, etc. they like clunky platforms and prefer to wear boots. very 60s mod and colorblocked. she loves bright eyeshadow but tends to go for more neutral lipstick. can never figure out what to do with her hair so she usually leaves it down or does a half-up half-down bun kinda deal.

more masc clothing preferences are bell bottoms, button ups with butterfly collars, paisley print, turtlenecks and fringe jackets, etc. earthy tones and weird nasty olive green. very late 60s / early 70s. prog rock flavor or glam rock flavor. never got into the disco style only because he cant pull it off because he’s so scrawny and twitchy and has no chest hair to impress the ladies.

one thing about 683 is that he hates tight long sleeves and goes insane if he has to wear them. his uniform was sleeveless, so even short sleeves feel really weird and horrible on his arms. prefers sleeveless, can do with short sleeves, 3/4ths sleeve or loose long sleeve, really tries to avoid tight/constricting long sleeves.

i have a pinterest board of potential fits for him although i havent updated it because i barely know how to use pinterest.

7. Is your muse affectionate? How much? How so?

to most people, not really, he’s kind of a weird cagey asshole. oscillates between fascinated with physical touch (suddenly wanting to hug his friends or snuggle with them or grabbing strangers when he’s trying to talk to them) to despising contact (cringes if you touch his hand when you pass him a cup). he didnt grown up with a culture very big on it, so he isn’t sure if he likes it or not yet.

to people he does care about, he tends to take his friends for granted but overperform affection for those he has romantic interest in. not that he doesnt also dearly love and adore his friends, he’s just not the best at expressing his care for them other than random bursts of kindness and dissolving back into his weird normal self. his understanding of romance has come from a very commercial, media-influenced place (he learns about it through television, novels and commercials, it’s not really inherent to his species) so he thinks romance is about buying flowers, holding hands, staring into each other’s eyes for three hours, etc. if he has romantic interest in you, he will constantly over and over again tell you how much he likes you and your company and you are soooo funny hahahhahhfhh, and will be unusually touchy (clings to your arm, sits RIGHT next to you, drops his head on your shoulder, etc).

8. What position does your muse sleep in?

683 didnt know what blankets were until he came to earth (or deep space nine) !!! his old room was perfectly temperature controlled and he already has a lower natural body temperature, so there was no need for blankets at all. human beds with big pillows and blankets are THE COOLEST, so he either curls up underneath a blanket with only the top of his head poking out or he sprawls out like a starfish to take advantage of as many pillows as possible. his special move is to roll up in the blanket like some kind of little alien lumpia.

he’s a fitful sleeper so if you sleep in the same bed as him, he’ll punch you or kick you on accident. he does appreciate company, though, and will also plaster himself up against you and leech your body heat with his weird cold body.

9. Could you hear your muse in the hallway from another room?

depends. they have a very average speaking voice and aren’t necessarily very loud (plus platforms dull footsteps), but if they were excited, they might raise their voice or yell or exclaim something. and then they’re very shrill, so yes, you would hear her.

Tagged by: @sampati im sorry i took like a week it was really fun i love to type letters and words on the computer Tagging: @dynaura or @pataparty (for whoever you want) / @phantombs / @ofgentleresolve (for lamon? or anyone you want, really!!) / @bystcrdust / @kyrieleisen / @baelends / @bup1957

#meme #tidbit #i can never keep 683's pronouns consistent and im too lazy to proofread this #keep your 'lectric eye on me ; queue

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hedwigstalons · 4 years ago

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Reunion

Something soft for @gumnut-logic‘s Fluffember. There is no way I’ll be able to do 30 separate fics but this kinda covers ‘reassure’, ‘special person’, ‘together’ and ‘bedtime’.

It’s not edited or polished but I wanted to get something out before inspiration abandoned me again.

xoxoxox

Brandon closed the holocall and slumped back on the couch with a contented sigh. Three months. Three long and agonising months in close quarters with the Lemaires for work meant that not only had seeing Alan been out of the question, their calls had been distinctly censored. Or rather the calls had been more guarded after the one attempt at being, ahem, intimate, that Madeline had walked in on. He still cringed at the memory. Nope, calls had been kept distinctly more bland after that incident.

He’d seized on the chance to talk freely the moment he had got home, not even stopping to unpack, and now he was exhausted. A wave of tiredness swept over Brandon, post travel fatigue mixed with the comfortable glow that came from talking to Alan and being back in his own territory. The sighs turned to a yawn which in turn gave way to gentle snores. Barely an hour later he was startled from his nap by a loud and insistent knocking at the door.

***

Alan turned up the track, feeling the road beneath the car getting bumpier and bumpier. While he was grateful to Parker for the lessons that enabled him to make this journey solo, his education in driving had been rather lacking in how to choose an appropriate car; the sleek, red sports car, which had looked perfect on the hire yard forecourt, now felt woefully ill-equipped to deal with the worsening terrain.

He checked and rechecked the address that Brandon had given him, wondering if he had taken a wrong turn but everything tallied up. The bachs that lined the lane at intervals were mostly in darkness, as would be expected for holiday homes out of season, and he struggled to imagine Brandon actually living in one of the small cabins. The one ahead of him, however, showed signs of occupation, a muted light shining out through the glass in the door. He turned into the empty parking spot next to the cabin and killed the engine.

Grabbing his duffel off the passenger seat, the car seemingly lacking a trunk, Alan steeled himself and headed towards the front door. He paused on the step, taking in deep breaths of the air that held the unmistakable tang of snow as it blew down from the nearby mountain. It had felt such a good idea at the time, rushing off to New Zealand the second he closed the call with Brandon, but now he was here he wondered if he was coming across as too needy, too forward. Perhaps he should have waited until morning.

Scott had pencilled in two days off rota the moment Alan had gone to him with Brandon’s return date, two days that he hadn’t dared tell his boyfriend about in case the world conspired against them and ripped that precious time away in a whirlwind of rescues. But for once the world had been obliging and so here he was, bag in hand, about to surprise the man who had barely left his thoughts during their enforced separation. Too late for doubts now, he was here. One more deep breath and he rapped on the door with rather more confidence than he felt.

***

The knocking, loud and unexpected, had Brandon nearly rolling off the couch at the intrusion. Rubbing his eyes he checked the time wondering who the hell could be calling on him at this time of night. It was probably just some lost holiday maker, struggling to find which rental was theirs in the dark and seeking help from the nearest cabin that looked occupied. It wouldn’t be the first time he had had to direct someone further up or back down the track depending on which cabin number they had failed to find. He was almost an unofficial warden for the lane being it’s only permanent resident, not that he was there much of the time himself as this latest work trip had proved.

Brandon hauled himself to his feet, preparing to point the way to whichever lost soul had found his bach this time. He shambled down the hallway, stretching the kinks out as he went, his eyes still bleary as he unlatched the door. He blinked sleepily, his brain not fully registering the sight.

***

From his place on the step Alan could see the familiar silhouette making its way down the hallway. Nervous excitement fluttered in his stomach as he waited for Brandon to open up. The butterflies intensified at the sound of the lock being opened. Moments later there he was, the ginger curls all mussed up and, Alan noticed guiltily, yawning and rubbing his eyes in a way that suggested he’d just woken up.

“Hey,” Alan greeted Brandon, smiling sheepishly.

“Alan?” Brandon steadied himself on the doorframe, exhaustion still keeping tight hold on his body.

“Yeah, uh, can I come in?” New Zealand was far colder than the island and Alan was feeling to temperature drop keenly, it probably didn’t help that he was still only in a t-shirt. Seeing Brandon completely thrown for a loop had him seriously doubting the wisdom of his actions.

“Oh God, yeah,” Brandon stepped to one side to let Alan in, the reality finally sinking in that Alan really was there on his front step, “I just wasn’t expecting you tonight.”

“I said I’d come as soon as I could,” Alan mumbled in explanation as he followed Brandon up the hallway and towards the lit room at the back of the cabin.

This was the first time that Alan had visited his home, it normally making far more sense for him to go to the island, and Brandon was suddenly uncomfortably aware of just how far removed it was from the opulence of Alan’s usual surroundings. Even on a good day the cabin was pretty shabby and the whole four roomed building could easily fit inside the lounge of the Tracy villa. Now, after three months of sitting empty the bach smelled musty and in need of a good airing, there was also a damp chill in the air which suggested the roof might have sprung a leak somewhere. He had been meaning to spruce the place up a bit before Alan arrived, expecting him in the morning at the earliest; he hadn’t counted on the Tracy definition of ‘soon’ applying to vacation time as well.

Alan followed Brandon into the lounge area and dropped his bag on the floor, noting that his wasn’t the only case in the corner of the room. He was really starting to regret heading over so quickly especially seeing as Brandon hadn’t even looked him in the eye since inviting him in, in fact he hadn’t even turned to face him since they reached the lounge.

Brandon scratched the back of his neck. He’d been foolish to invite Alan to stay. How could his little cabin compare to Tracy Island? He felt the overwhelming need to explain.

“So, welcome to Casa Berrenger. On the flanks of what has to be the greatest mountain in the world.” He gesticulated at blinds that were closed across the picture window. “I mean, I saw this place and thought ‘Hey Brandon, what could be cooler than having Ruapehu as your neighbour’. You might have seen it, in some of my vlogs...”

“Brandon…”

“I filmed the very first one right on the slopes out there. It was, like, totally awesome. It’s still my favourite place to board, hence the cabin. You should come stay when the snow’s right and I can take you on out the slopes, that would be, like, amazing...”

“Brandon…” Alan hadn’t heard Brandon this babbling since he’d helped pluck him off a mountain following an avalanche. Back then he’d initially taken Brandon’s non-stop chatter to be part of his natural exuberance but as he got to know him more he learnt that it was more a sign of nerves, a cover for the insecurities he kept hidden from the viewers.

“Except you’ve probably been there, right? I mean, you’ve been everywhere. But yeah, this little place isn’t much to look at now but in the morning when you can see her,” he waved vaguely at the shut blinds again, “man, the views more than make up for…”

“BRANDON!”

Brandon couldn’t put it off any longer. He turned, hardly daring to meet Alan’s eyes which he was sure would show some sort of contempt at the small space with it’s meagre and mismatched furnishings.

Alan reached out and gently took hold of Brandon’s hand, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the back of it. “I don’t care where you live. I didn’t come here to see the mountain. I came because I wanted to see you...because I’ve missed you.”

Brandon looked up to see only warmth and softness in Alan’s gaze. He closed the small gap between them, melting into the embrace as he rested his chin on Alan’s shoulder and felt a fool for worrying that Alan would be so shallow as to judge him on his home. Despite their riches the Tracy family had never shown any signs of looking down on those who had less than them but he’d hardly ever let anyone cross the threshold of his little mountain sanctuary and it left him feeling vulnerable.

“I missed you too, three months is far too long,” he sighed as he gently planted a kiss on the warm neck. Feeling the arms around him pull him in that bit closer he raised his head again so see a need darkening Alan’s eyes, a need that he felt mirrored in himself. “Y’know, I was just off to bed when you got here.”

Alan quirked an eyebrow, knowing full well that Brandon had already been asleep despite being still fully clothed. “Now that sounds like a nice idea, I could probably do with turning in too,” he yawned, “you aren’t the only one that’s been travelling, ‘cept I’ve been working too.”

“Uh, one slight problem,” Brandon smirked. “This place isn’t as large as yours and, uh, there’s no guest room. D’you think Virgil would have a problem with that?” he asked, referring to the rules laid down when they first hooked up which meant he always had a guest room available on the island, even if he never used it.

Alan cocked his head to one side as though giving the issue some serious consideration. “Oh, I think we’ll find a way to manage.” The lust in his eyes deepened as Brandon pulled away and led them back up the hallway towards the bedroom.

“Well then, I think it’s bedtime.”

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction #Alan Tracy #Brandon Berrenger #Spacebears #fluffember2020

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sunaddicted · 4 years ago

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Between Us, In The Dark (Nandermo)

Writing Guillermo getting accidentally turned into a vampire and dealing with it is quickly becoming a trend for me - sorry not sorry.

***

When he opened his eyes, Guillermo knew that he was dead.

He couldn’t exactly point out the reason why he instantly knew - it was an overall feeling of being… lifeless.

And apparently buried six feet under, in a casket that smelled old and musty - it probably was one of those coffins Nandor insisted on keeping in the basement for unlikely guests, despite the fact that they were rotting away and fell apart if one looked at them a little too closely. He wondered about where the vampires of Staten Island had seen fit to bury him, a little shocked that they had thought about granting him a honourable burial rather than just tossing his broken body away once it was clear that it couldn't be of any use to them anymore.

The air around him - what little air filtered amidst the dirt anyway - smelled foul, of rot and decomposing bodies; of rusty blood; of stagnant water and other liquids he didn’t exactly want to think about.

So, the garden.

It made sense - why log a casket around town, in search of a cemetery you wouldn’t probably be able to get in because of the ground being consecrated when you already had a mass grave in your own yard? One corpse more, it wouldn’t change a thing.

Guillermo supposed he should have been glad of the fact that he was close to home, at least he wouldn’t scare anyone away after emerging from the earth like some kind of Hollywoodian zombie; he just had to drag himself through the garden and hope that someone answered the door - or maybe he could just kick it down: he didn’t need permission to enter a vampires’ household, did he?

Maybe he did.

Considering he had wasted more than a decade of his life with servitude in the hope of becoming a creature of the night, Guillermo was a little appalled by his own ignorance. He knew he had given up on learning about vampiric customs and traditions at some point, his curiosity and faith in Nandor eroded year after year of getting nothing in return for his devotion.

Guillermo sighed: he had to get out of there.

Clawing his way back out to the surface was at the same time smoother and rougher than it had ever looked like in the movies; the earth wasn’t liquid, it chafed and it itched against his skin, but it also wasn’t as vicious of a trap as its compactness suggested, easily breaking beneath his fingers - though, he supposed that could be chalked up to the fabled inhuman strength vampires possessed.

Cool.

Breaking the door down if nobody answered was still a viable option, then. And even if he couldn’t step inside without an invitation, he sure as hell could scream until one of the vampires was annoyed enough to come and check out what was causing such a racket; it was a plan that lacked any finesse but Guillermo didn’t think he should be too concerned with that when he was covered with slimy earth and the bloodstained clothes nobody had seen fit to change him out of before burying him.

He knocked, feeling already weary at the thought of having to cause a scene in order to get some attention.

Which was why he jumped when the door gave away beneath his knuckles, his loosely curled fist almost into Nandor’s face.

“Guillermo?”

“Afraid so, Master”

“You’re-”

“-alive. Well, dead”

Nandor narrowed his eyes: could it really be Guillermo? He had buried his familiar with his own hands, had even gotten his cape dirty to dig a hole that would be comfortable enough for the other man to rest in forever.

He had cried a little too - not that he was advertising that, though: it was a secret shared only between himself, the dark and his familiar’s corpse.

“How?”

How could Nandor trust that it wasn’t some shapeshifting witch trying to trick him?

How could Guillermo have come back to life?

“Can I give you the details inside, it’s kinda chilly out here”

“You can’t feel the cold anymore”

Continues on ao3

#my writing #my fic #nandermo #nandor #nandor the relentless #guillermo #guillermo de la cruz #light angst #miscommunication #lack of communication #unresolved emotional tension

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dailysuna · 4 years ago

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(I can ask less if you're getting overwhelmed) I don't honestly know much about the internal structure of suna. Could you outline the power structure, in as much or as little detail as you please? My fic needs it and you're waaaay more interesting then the wiki pages. Also are there any other named players in the village who have political influence or who helped during the shift in power?

Hahaha I'm glad I'm more interesting than the wiki pages, I try 😤. So yeah lemme lay it out for you as best I can.

Like everything else with Suna, we know pretty much nothing and so I have accumulated my knowledge from the other mods and I painstakingly researching through 500 different wiki pages some of which provide conflicting information with one another and then trying to tie things together where we could. I've seen a few things describe Suna as a monarchy and I will say that is completely incorrect based on the information we do have. I assume this comes from there being a thing on some wikis called "Kazegake Family" which is false. There is no canonical implication at all that any of the kazekage are related and in fact they all tend to look extremely different from one another. The only two related as far as we are aware are Gaara and Rasa. Monarchy doesn't necessarily need to be hereditary, which is the most common type of monarchy, as far as I'm aware. Basically, being a monarchy means one person has complete control and power when ruling. This would be closer to Konohagakure actually, where we see a Hokage who is the only one with the ability to pass laws or just do things. They have advisors, but these advisors actually have no power or say in what the Hokage decides.

So, what is Sunagakure? Well, upon further research because I am really no expert on governments, Suna holds similarities to a Monarchy, one ruler with checks and balances from something such as a parliament, but even that doesn't fit very well. Maybe its more of a combination between a few types. Basically this search has shown me we really can't compare the kages to our own political forms of government because Naruto is, in fact, fictional and I, in fact, am no political science expert. Let me just explain how Suna does function to our knowledge instead.

The kazekage does seem to have the most power, but even then is more of a figure head leader. It seems to us that the council and kazekage work in tandem to deal with political matters, assign government officials to tasks, and do whatever else needed. The kazekage alone cannot make and pass decisions and likely a majority vote is needed, if not a unanimous one. Thus making the kazekage, to my understanding, this figure who has the power and leads the village but has the same power as the council members in political matters (likely containing powers they don't have in less political matters such as assigning shinobi missions, although consulting the council is still likely with certain things). The council seems to be made up of those recognized to be intellectuals and those possibly with power and experience, it is mostly made up of crusty old farts anyways.

As far as other prominent members go, there are some names we have for council members. To be honest I am unsure how accurate they even are as I keep seeing new information, but we've recognized there to be smelly old men on the council named: Joseki, Sajo, Goza, and Ryusa. There was also Yuura, not an old man but just as musty as them. Of course our wonderful angel Baki is on the council too. To my knowledge, Kankuro is also sort of a member of the council, whether that is because he was elected to it or because he is Gaara's top aide/advisor. Yes, Kankuro has an important spot in the government (Kinda scary but also I support him)! He seems to mostly serve as an advisor to Gaara though. Frankly that's all we really know about the council.

Hope this helps!

#dailysuna #naruto #naruto shippuden #sunagakure #asks #headcanons #mod k

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ijustwanttoexist · 4 years ago

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An Almost First Date

This is a sequel to LIJAWITP, just a small little something I wanted to do because I haven’t written in a while and I thought it would be cute in a “I like to make my muses suffer” kind of way.

Also, I have a ko-fi. If you like my writing, please consider sending a bit of financial support my way.

Pairing(s): Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin

Warning(s): Geno gets food poisoning in this, descriptions of throwing up past the break

Their first date is almost tragically bad. Geno imagines he’s in a movie as it happens, because in what other universe except one taking place on film would so many almost comically bad things in confluence.

It takes them nearly a month to make it happen. Sidney has playoffs, and spring is--for some reason--the time of year when people start getting dogs en mass so they’re both stupid busy.

They talk on the phone when they can. They text back and forth throughout the day, and have a few actual phone conversations, but they can never seem to get their schedules to match up for any meaningful time together in person.

The day of the date starts poorly. Geno’s phone charger had apparently died in the night and had taken his phone’s battery charge with it, so his alarm hadn’t gone off. He was two hours late two work, because he’d had to stop at an electronics store to get a replacement charger.

He’d apologized profusely to Angela, but she’d said it was no big deal. She’d looked a little wild-eyed from dealing with pretentious and asshole customers though, so Geno had given her a two hour lunch.

Geno doesn’t know how it happened, but he gets food poisoning at lunch. It’s a place he goes to quite often, and he’s never had any problems with them before, but about a half hour after he eats his lunch it’s making a disgusting return in the employee bathroom.

Angela tries to convince him to go home early, but he refuses to do that to her. She has her own schedule and her own life outside of work, and he refuses to let her take on extra hours when she’s already had a hectic day thanks to him. He sends her home on time, and makes it through most of the last few hours feeling gross and kinda sweaty and nauseous enough that moving too fast makes him gag.

He closes up a whole hour early after he gives all the animals their food and ensures their environments are clean and any bathroom breaks have been taken care of.

He takes some pepto and takes a nap when he gets home, because he still feels tragically awful. He feels better enough when his alarm goes off that he feels perfectly fine not informing Sidney of his early mishap and continuing on a date he’s pretty desperate to actually have happen.

His good slacks don’t fit anymore, is the problem. He hasn’t really gained weight, but he has lost some muscle mass since he doesn’t really work out a lot anymore, and the pants hang off him pathetically. Two of his remaining pairs of slacks smell slightly musty from being left to hang in his closet for who knows how long, and somehow his third pair has a large, dark stain around the crotch.

He goes with the good slacks, and hopes he doesn’t look like a child playing dress up in his dad’s clothes.

And when he goes for a button up, he realizes that he’s got two clean ones, having meant to do laundry for the past week and never quite getting to it. His choices are an off-white one with slightly grey pit stains or a pea-green one that he’s sure will make his slightly sick looking complexion even more washed out.

He settles for a baby blue polo and hopes Sidney doesn’t mind that he’s not dressed super formal.

He thanks his lucky stars that his dress shoes are still in good condition and still fit him.

Geno puts on his fanciest watch, and swears when he looks at it. Is it really that late? He checks his phone and swears again, because it is that late. Even with his usual speeding habit, there’s a good chance he’s going to be late.

He sends a text to Sidney letting him know, then jumps in his car. And gets pulled over for doing ten over. He tries to sweet talk his way out of a ticket, or at least get the man to write faster than his mother types, but by the time he gets to the restaurant he’s a full half hour late.

He has five glorious minutes of peace and quiet. The waitress kindly leads him to a semi-isolated table in the back. Sidney looks bored and a little put out in the moment before he lifts his eyes and sees Geno approaching, and then his face lights up and Geno can forgive the frankly awful beard when it surrounds a smile that beautiful and sweet.

He gives Geno an appreciative up and down look, and Geno preens.

Sidney stands as he approaches and pulls him into a hug, which Geno returns happily. He just wants to stand there in the arms of this wonderful man and never leave, but they’re in public and the waitress is still standing close by--presumably to get Geno’s drink order--so the hug is just shy of perfunctory and then they’re both sitting.

Geno gets water, and then they’re left alone. Geno finds what he wants, and when he looks up Sidney is watching him with a soft smile on his face. Geno reaches a hesitant hand across the table to him and Sidney takes it and laces their fingers. It makes Geno’s chest feel fit to burst with happiness.

And then someone passes the table with a tray of plates full of steaming food. The smell of food wafts over to their table and Geno can feel himself go green as he breaks out in a light sweat.

“Be right back,” Geno says, and nearly jumps to his feet. He walks as fast as he can without seeming frantic to the nearest bathroom, then locks himself in the first open stall to dry heave until he pukes bile.

At this point he can tell that he’s sweated through his shirt and his hair is soaked. He’s sure the only color in his face right now is grey.

He must be in the bathroom for longer than he thinks because he hears someone enter the bathroom and then a tentative, “Geno?”

Geno groans, partly because he feels like shit, and partly because he can’t believe he’s ruined their first and long awaited date because he ate some bad chicken. He kind of wants to curl into a ball and die.

“Yeah, Sid,” Geno asks from his stall, and he knows he sounds rough. He hears Sidney walk over to his stall, and reaches behind him to undo the latch on the door.

“Oh, buddy,” Sidney says, and then he feels a hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles, “Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling bad?”

“Wanted...” Geno gives a shallow burp-gag, and spits more bile into the toilet, “was so excited for date with you. Knew you were excited too. Didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Sidney is silent for a moment, still rubbing gently at his back.

“How about,” he said slowly, “you head home--“ Geno groaned in protest. “Hold on, G, let me finish.

“You head home, and get into something comfortable, and I’ll meet you there.”

“No fun when I’m sick,” Geno said sadly.

“Look, whether we go to some big fancy restaurant, or go to a movie, or we stay in and watch Netflix and cuddle on the couch, I just want to spend time with you.”

“Me too.”

Geno stands with help and washes his face with a damp paper towel. Sidney guides him to the front, and apologizes profusely to the waitstaff. And then Geno is deposited into his car with the promise that Sidney will be over soon.

Geno drives carefully home, afraid that if he doesn’t he’ll throw up in his car. He leaves a trail of clothes to his bedroom, then puts on his most comfortable sweats and a t-shirt. He grabs a heat patch from the box in his bathroom because all that heaving has left his back twinging, and then drags his duvet from his bed to his couch.

Sidney shows up twenty minutes later with takeout chicken noodle soup, in beautifully tailored jeans and a soft looking cardigan. Once they’ve both eaten, Sidney lays lengthwise on the couch and pulls Geno until he’s laying mostly on him, practically swaddled in his blanket. Sidney sets an alarm on his phone for the morning, presses play on some boring documentary sure to put Geno to sleep, and then runs his fingers through Geno’s hair.

“Sorry I ruin our date,” Geno says as he begins to drift off.

“This is still good,” Sidney assures him. Geno falls asleep with a small smile on his face.

#sidgeno #previous fic continuation #omg poor geno I had intentions of making the suffering equal but...yeah......#anyways hope you guys like it #food poisoning warning

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lowkeyaesthvtic · 5 years ago

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Evil Karma - Chapter 13

Chapter 1 - Chapter 12

Word Count: 2,944

Summary: The Lost Revenge Crew finally has Ben in the palm of their hands. Sofi knows exactly what to do to make him snap and fall even further into their trap.

Pairings: Harry x OC, mentions of Ben x Mal, possible Ben x Evie, Uma x OC

Rating: T for minor language, mentions of gore, and quite a bit of violence

Warnings: Minor language, mentions of descriptive gore and dead bodies, violence (both including and excluding weapons), and Ben is kinda in a hostage situation so there’s that?

Tags: @newtshairdryer @descendantofthesparrow @hookedradge @haden-oftheisle @batmanwearsabowtie

Author’s Note: Not gonna lie this might be my favorite chapter I’ve written so far. Also, I’m really sorry for the inactivity. School is kind of being a pain in the butt right now.

The walk back to the Chip Shoppe was relatively uneventful and silent. Harry was laser focused on getting back to Uma and making sure Mal held up her end of the bargain. I was laser focused on getting down to the ship’s lower deck and making sure I could do everything in my power to tear the royal beast apart. I had been so previously fixated on carrying out every small step of this plan that I had little time to focus on how it was affecting me emotionally. But, as Harry and I arrived at where we would take our separate paths, I realized that all I was seeing was red at the mere thought of Ben’s name. I could easily go in there and slash him up until his stringy intestines were burst out of his chest for me to use as jump rope. There were many fibres of my being that wandered into a euphoric haze at the idea, but my daydream was broken when Harry took my face into his hands and looked directly into me. While my mind’s eye saw red, my real eyes could see nothing but the wide sea of blue and the warm air of Harry’s eyes. “Are you ready for this, duckling? You know what to do?” He asked, grounding me in what my limits were. As much as it upset me to admit it, Ben had to come out of this alive. But it didn’t mean I wouldn’t make him wish he were dead.

“Yeah. You’ll keep an eye on Mal when she comes in?” My mind raced to Uma when I responded. We knew Mal would come to the restaurant no matter what. Whether her and Ben were on good terms or not, it’d be idiotic and a sociopolitical suicide for her to leave Ben to be tortured by a bunch of ‘wharfy pirates.’ What we weren’t certain of was whether or not she’d try to pull something. “I don’t even want to think about Uma getting hurt…” I started to speak when Harry gripped my hands tight, a tiny laugh peaking through the cracks of his rarely seen sweet smile.

“Sofi...Uma’s our Captain for a reason. Even if Mal had the balls to pull something, which she doesn’t, Uma would be able to handle her pretty quickly. Not to mention that Gil and I will be watching them the whole time. You need to take a breath and focus on the goal, here. Can you do that for me, duckling?” After a moment's hesitation, I took in a slow breath and nodded. Harry lightly kissed my head as he pulled me in for a quick embrace. “That’s my girl. Now go get us our magic, will you?” He said as he let me go and walked away.

The lower deck of the ship was definitely fit for Ben. It stood nearly bare with only me, him, the chair he was tied to and the millions of cobweb strings hung high and low across the musty room. Tiny drops of water would occasionally drip onto the creaky wood floors, adding a bit of sound to the otherwise dead silent room I walked into. Ben’s head hung low, not wanting to look me in the eye. Too bad he didn’t have a choice. Unconscious or not, he was going to be a part of this game. He had to be. I knelt down in front of him and swiftly swiped my hand across his pale cheek, sending a loud slap through the air and jolting him up. “Rise and shine, your Majesty! Nap time’s over.”

Ben looked around frantically and began to chaotically struggle at his restraints. “Where am I? What is this! You better get me out of here or I swear I’ll -”

I had trouble holding back a laugh. Clearly Ben had never been held captive before. “You’ll what? I’m already stuck in this shithole your father built. Besides, you clearly have no idea how to get out of those ropes. Not that anybody would, Gil’s gotta be the best guy with ropes on the entire Isle. So tell me, King Ben...what are you gonna do?” I smiled and confidently cocked my head to the side. Ben speedily eyed me up and down, scanning me to see if he recognized me. It took him only a few seconds of this scanning to realize that we had seen each other before.

“You...we saw each other on the street. You could have killed me.”

“But I didn’t. You’ll find out why soon, don’t worry. I could kill you now, too. But...I’m not gonna.” I replied simply as I took my dagger out of my pocket and fiddled around with the handle. His eyes widened slightly as he looked down at the blade. I smirked and pointed the tip of the blade down toward his crotch. “Relax, as long as you do what I tell you, you’ll get out completely unharmed. And I promise you, your Majesty, I don’t ask for much.”

I stood up and began to wander around the room, taking in the smell that really started to peak through once it combined with the King’s fearful sweat. “I’m going to ask you some questions. All but one will have a simple yes or no answer, but we’ll get to that one question at the end. The rules of this little game are simple, you’re going to answer each and every question with complete honesty. If you try to ask me questions, dodge your questions or even think about lying, I will know. And you’ll get a nasty cut from this little friend of mine here.” I lightly waved my dagger in his eyes like a carrot to a rabbit. “Not anything deep enough to kill you. But definitely deep enough to hurt. But as long as you follow the rules, you won’t even have to worry about it! Are we clear?” My face went from playful to a dark glare as I stood awaiting his answer.

“Why are you doing this? Do you think that tying me up and interrogating me like this is really going to get you off the Isle?” I groaned and rolled my eyes before making a quick slash up the side of his left arm. He gritted his teeth, attempting to hold back the immense amount of pain that just shot through his body.

“What did I just say? You don’t get to ask questions, Beastie Boy. All I’m asking for is your complete honesty, is that really so hard? Especially after all the shit your family has put me through?” Ben opened his mouth to speak, but was quickly silenced when he noticed the tip of my dagger edging ever so closely to his other arm. He shut off his words and quickly shook his head, finally abiding by my commands. “Good boy. Now, firstly, your father made the decision 20 years ago to bring back every single villain that had been killed...only to imprison them on an island with no magic and no way out. Yes or no?” Ben leaned back, confused at the simplicity of the question. He nods his head swiftly, allowing me to continue.

“Alright, good. Next question. A couple months back, you decided to give some of the kids born on said island a chance for redemption. So you brought to Auradon who you thought were the baddest of the bad. Son of Jafar, son of Cruella De Vil, daughter of the Evil Queen….and of course, daughter of Maleficent. Yes or no?” There was a pause in his response. A shred of hesitancy. I wasn’t going to tolerate hesitancy. I lunged my dagger into his right leg, causing an extremely pained yelp to cry out from the King. “Yes...or no?”

“Yes, yes I brought those kids to Auradon...but I didn’t think they were the baddest of the bad. I had seen one of them before and...I wanted to meet them, but I knew that one wouldn’t come without the others.” I leaned back in a bit of shock. How could he have already known about the core four if this was his first time on the Isle? “Evie...I saw her in a dream. I wanted nothing more than to meet her, to see if she were real. But I knew she wouldn’t come if I didn’t bring the rest of her friends with her.” A devilish smile crept across my face. Evie had found some way to sneak into Ben’s mind and plant the seed that lead to her and her friends escaping the Isle.

“So...even though Evie was the one you wanted to meet, Mal was the one you ended up falling in love with once these Core Four came to Auradon. Then again, I guess you didn’t fall in love with Mal naturally. She spelled you, then somewhere along the way, with her magic mixed in, she caught your eye. Yes?” With a hint of regret, he nodded his head. There was a part of him that still felt that desire to know Evie. I could definitely use that to my advantage..later. “So, given that you fell for Mal, even after the love spell wore off...she probably tells you everything. Yes or no?”

“Yes. Especially after I became King. Her and her friends came to me with a whole bunch of information about the Isle. Like she told me about-”

“Slow your roll, Beastie Boy. I decide what info you share, here. Next order of business, Mal and her friends were the ones who informed you about the corruption behind Peter Pan. Yes or no?” With a hint of reluctance, Ben nodded his head. Hopefully now he’s starting to get a hint of the kind of information I’m in need of. If not now, he would get it really soon. “So when Mal and her friends told you who Peter Pan really was, you sent her, her friends, and your strongest Auradon guards to Neverland to capture Pan and bring him to the Isle of the Lost where you felt he belonged. Yes or no?” After another swift nod, I leaned in close to the captured King. “Alright, Benny Boy. This last question’s a little different. This ain’t a yes or no kind of question, but I still need one hundred percent honesty. You think you can do that for me?” Absolute silence. Then, a slow, fearful nod. “I want you to give me the same order you gave Mal, and her friends, and those Auradon guards. The exact same order. Word for goddamn word.” I removed my dagger from his right leg and placed it against his throat. I knew for sure that I wouldn’t slice him up. But he didn’t. I had to make sure he was scared enough to give me the information I needed.

“I told them to go to Neverland, find Peter Pan, capture him and bring him to the Isle of the Lost by any means necessary.” Of course. Of course it’d be those four little words that would drive Mal and her friends and those guards over the edge. As I saw all those bloodied, gory bodies laying across the beach, staining the sand’s white pigment and leaking into the ocean, I wondered what could possibly drive someone to do something like this to a bunch of innocent boys? Now, I know. I cleaned Ben’s blood off my blade with my shirt and placed my dagger back in its sheath. I stood and couldn’t help but to slowly pace around the room silently. At first, I thought it was all Mal’s fault for telling Ben and being the one to dig the swords into their skin. It still is...but now I realize that they might have been a bit more merciful had Ben not used those four little words.

“By any means necessary, huh? Yep, there’s the ticket. You know, as a fellow leader...I should probably give you a valuable piece of advice.” I slowly leaned closer to his face before letting my fist collide with his right cheek. “Be careful what you say when you’re giving orders. Otherwise, your own words could kill hundreds!” My blaring voice rang through the musty room as I fought back the urge to continue decking him over and over again. His face showed a blatant and pained confusion.

“Fellow leader? What the hell are you talking about? Isn’t Uma the Captain?”

“You seriously haven’t gotten it through your head by now? Whatever. Who I used to be doesn’t matter. What matters is what you did. Those four little words that you threw around like they were nothing? Those words killed hundreds of innocent boys. All because you and your stupid kingdom wanted to lock up some bastard who you weren’t even gonna find anyways!”

“Okay, is this about Neverland? Because Mal told me that all of the Lost Boys were taken care of.”

“That means MURDERED, idiot! Your girlfriend and her friends went to Neverland looking to lock up my father, which they never would have been able to do anyway, and saw my Lost Boys as some kind of obstacle they had to slaughter their way past. All because of your orders.” A short growl involuntarily came from the King’s mouth. It was finally starting to work. “Do you hear that, Ben? That’s your own guilt coming to eat you alive. Do you think it’d get worse if I told you that no matter what your girlfriend did, the only place she would’ve found my father is rotting away deep in the ocean? Peter Pan’s been dead for years. We had quite the utopia going on Neverland before your army ruined it. Every boy felt loved, wanted, special. We didn’t have a whole constitution of rules tying us down. And you….you took that away!” Tiny, dark brown hairs started to grow from Ben’s face as yet another roar flowed through the room.

“What are you doing to me?” He asked worryingly, his voice starting to morph into something more animalistic.

“I’m not doing anything. Correct me if I’m wrong, Your Majesty, but you and your father shift into Beast form when in pain, yes?” Nothing but a gruffy huff in response. I can only assume that means I’m right. “One thing I’ve learned from living with hundreds of teenage boys? There is nothing more painful to a teenage boy than his own guilt consuming him.” As more of his beastly hairs continued to grow longer and thicker, I grabbed the tiny glass vial from my pocket and popped open the cork. As I quickly plucked the hairs needed for the elixir, I relished in every pained yelp he gave and smiled when his beastly roar turned into a cry of regret.

“If it makes you feel any better,” I darkly spoke as I put the cork back onto the vial, watching the beastly hairs inside turn into a cluster of gold sparkles. “Your painful guilt is about to make a lot of wharfy pirates very...very happy. Ciao.” I gave a small, playful wave before walking out of the room and to the upper deck of the ship. There, close to the mast, was Uma. Similar to when we had our first close connection, she sat looking straight out to the ocean. But this time, there was a different sort of air around her. She was waiting for something, but not very patiently. Her angelic sea smile spread across her face when she turned to see me walking towards her.

“How did it go? I heard screaming.” She asked as she softly moved closer to me.

“We’ve got everything we need. Now we just wait for the Doctor to come back with everything else. As for the screaming, let’s say that Beast is a lot easier than we thought he’d be.” I tried to keep my mind focused on the plan, how close it was to being completed and how perfectly it had been going so far. But, what I found out about my boys remained on my mind. Uma knew that too. She took my hand into hers and began smoothing over my skin with her thumb.

“I heard screaming from you too. Are you okay?” I leaned her head onto my shoulder and let go of her hand as I began to run my fingers through her braids.

“Honestly, it hurt a little bit thinking about that day again. I’ve been so busy with this plan and getting settled in the Isle that I’ve never really had the time to let it sink in. I haven’t really talked about it with anybody.”

“You can talk about it now, if you want. I’m usually not the best listener, but I can try.” That little bit of bite in the tone of her voice brought a smile to my face, just as it always has since the day I met her. I brushed off the topic and planted a soft kiss on the top of her head.

“I appreciate that. But the best thing we can do right now is make sure this plan stays in motion. Will Mal be at the ship tomorrow?” I asked, shifting the topic away from any kind of emotional struggle.

“No doubt about it. Knowing her, she’ll probably bring her friends as backup. So, what do you say, Island Girl? You ready to break some bones and melt some brains?” She asked, leaning up from my shoulder and grabbing my hands tightly in excitement.

“My dear Captain, I’ve never been more ready for something in my entire life.”

#harry hook x reader #descendants 2 #descendants harry hook #uma descendants #uma x reader #disney descendants #uma daughter of ursula #gil legume #sea three descendants #harry hook x oc x uma #descendants harry #harry hook x oc #uma x oc #harry x uma #huma x oc #huma #huma x reader

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thebibliomancer · 4 years ago

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Shadows of the Dark Crystal liveblog pt 20

Shadows of the Dark Crystal by J.M. Lee because Naia is at the castle!

Last times on book: Naia was on a journey to Ha’rar to defend her brother from a treason charge until Tavra told her to go home. Naia decided not to go home, had a fight with traveling companion Kylan, had a spooky time in the woods AGAIN but this time with the Hunter stalking her, and arrived at the castle!

Chapter 22

Naia enters the castle and is present for a very weird and confusing conversation between Tavra and the Skeksis. Things just keep confounding this poor Naia.

Naia reached the castle!

There’s a picture! It does a really good job selling how small she feels - and is! - next to the castle.

The path of engraving snaked around the warped castle base, below the extended leg-like buttresses until it finally arched in again, leading to an enormous set of thorny doors that made Naia feel like nothing but a fly at the mouth of a gate made for giants.

That’s some good scale.

Also, Tavra is also at the gate and Naia is like ohshit but also ah ha.

Because she might get in trouble but this confirms to her that she made a good, smart decision to go to the castle because its where her brother is.

Instead of getting angry, though, Tavra only paled in the bright gold torchlight. Her eyes widened, and she gripped Naia’s shoulders.

“Naia, in Thra’s name, what have you done?”

The urgency and fear in Tavra’s voice took Naia by surprise.

Tavra, what do you know?

Also, there’s a shadow to Shadows of the Dark Crystal that tells Tavra’s story and its gotta be mostly Tavra fretting about this child who keeps throwing herself into danger while flipping the double birds.

I’d like to read that story, honestly.

The doors groan open and Tavra desperately grabs Naia’s cheeks (making a stupid sandwich?) and tries to dreamfast with her.

Naia realizes that Tavra is trying to tell her whats going on but refuses the dreamfast and declares she’ll hear the truth from Gurjin instead.

Tavra tries to dreamfast again but the Chamberlain shows up. God only knows what he makes of one gelfling grabbing another gelfling’s face.

Lets get some good Skeksis prose here.

Seeing the creature sucked the breath from Naia’s lungs. Although she had seen Lord skekLach and Lord skekOk in Sami Thicket, it had been from a distance. Now, tall and decorated, here was another standing before her, so close she could smell the musty sweet perfume that saturated his robes and oily skin. His cloak and mantle were propped high above his head with a complex structure of ribbed boning, adorned with jewels and shining metals.The cloak itself was crimson red with beaded patterns in black, studded here and there with furry black kiznet tails. Protruding from the mass of shining fabrics and extravagant ruffles, the Skeksis Lord’s pale-eyed face dangled off a long muscled neck, sinewy lips pulled back in a wide smile as he took in the Gelfling standing before the gate.

Tavra immediately stops squishing Naia’s face, I assume, and falls into a kneel, dragging Naia down into one too.

Which is a bit I always appreciate when I see it in visual media. The person who doesn’t know or doesn’t care about etiquette dragged down by the person who does.

Tavra also claims that Naia is her retainer which is surely to be a road to hilarity.

Also, why is Chamberlain answering the door? Is that... what his job is?

When he spoke, his voice was high and bleating, almost in singsong as it resonated through his hornlike face.

“Katavra!” he cried. “Daughter of Mayrin! Come, come! Retainer, yes! Bring, bring! Everyone in!”

Geez, that is top-notch dialoguing. I can hear that in the movie and series voice.

Also, ha Tavra’s full name is Katavra.

Kind of makes Brea the odd name out with Seladon and Katavra on the table.

Naia is kinda screaming internally as she realizes that Tavra is the All-Maudra’s daughter and feels stupid for not realizing it all along. Story of Naia’s life.

Ahead, Lord skekSil weaved back and forth in eccentric zigzags, as if his two feethad differing minds of their own, in a constant battle to dominate his trajectory.

Sil, are you really so tricksy that even your feet are at odds? Whats going on with you, man?

Naia can’t be mindblown about Tavra for long because then she gets mindblown by the opulence of the castle which she had long imagined.

Two long tables were arranged in a cross formation, draped in gathered silk sheets and dozens of runners and linens. Metal platters overflowing with squirming savory-smelling delicacies were lined up, one on top of the other, barely leaving room for the goblets of wine and glass decanters that poked out of the banquet settings like saplings. Banners and curtains in gold, red, coral, navy, ivory, and white dropped from the high vaulted ceiling like sails, drawn and bunched in an array of textures and colors with braided, tasseled cords and chains. Seated at the banquet table, in feasting thrones resembling the hands and fingers of the castle itself, were the purple-skinned razor-beaked Skeksis.

And their table manners are about what you’d expect from the movie.

So, wait, not only did Chamberlain answer the door, he answered the door during dinner?

Guy lost a coin toss, didn’t he? ‘Someone go get the door!’ ‘Make Sil do it!’

Story of his life, right?

Naia also notices a pair of guards at the dining hall door but they’re so silent and unobtrusive that she wouldn’t have noticed them at all if she hadn’t been wanting to see what her brother’s duties looked like.

“Gelfling! Gelfling! Silverling and Sogling!” cried Chamberlain skekSil. He held their shoulders and shook them slightly, as if giving them motion would attract the attention of his brethren.

‘Pay attention to meeeeeeeeee’ - skekSil.

The other Skeksis are confused and suspicious that the All-Maudra’s daughter is here but the Emperor tells them to shut up.

He was not the largest of the Skeksis by size, but the immediate response his sharp voice garnered carried more weight than any of the others were willing to contest.

Then he spills soup all over himself. Or more like his various jewels dip into stew as he bends over his food.

The Skeksis experience: grand, terrifying, a little messy!

Naia is panicking because she didn’t expect to be in front of all the Skeksis, she expected to deal with underlings. And here she is in front of the lords, covered in mud from her run through the spooky woods, and with Tavra desperately trying to tell her something.

Whoops. Too impetuous.

The Emperor questions why Katavra is here and also looks at Naia and basically goes ‘is this a gurjin?’

Did the Skeksis know their guards so little they mistook her for her brother? He’d hardly acknowledged her, much less looked at her long enough to realize she was a girl.

Tavra says that Naia isn’t one of the guards that the All-Maudra was asked to find. So the Emperor asks why Tavra is wasting his time instead of being out and looking.

“I wished to directly report to you, Your Greatness, the status of the assignment with which you have so honorably endowed us.”

“Waste of time!” Emperor skekSo repeated, so harshly the spines along the sides of his head jutted out like quills on a muski. “Gelfling are the ones causing problems, so Gelfling the ones that do the fixing!”

That sure is an argument.

But hey, Tavra said that Gurjin had been found and held captive and then came to the castle where the Skeksis are like ‘hey why aren’t you finding gurjin?’

What do you knooooooow, Tavra?

The Emperor tells Tavra to gtfo, get back to work, and search everywhere for the troublesome missing guards.

Tavra uses some etiquette judo though, saying of course she’ll go back out and search but I mean geez there’s a storm tonight and all and of course the All-Maudra would happily extend the search if she knew it had the support of the Skeksis.

The Emperor starrrrrrrres at Tavra and then goes yeah fine leave first thing in the morning but make sure you search all the places specifically outside the castle.

“To Ha’rar, to the Silver Sea. To wherever, and for however long it takes to find the traitors. Let all Gelfling know they are nothing but lies. We love Gelfling, we do, we loves them, of course, but traitors... No one loves traitors, Silverling... No one.”

This fits with a thought that Naia has that the Emperor seems weirdly defensive about some Gelflings spreading lies. But what could it meeeeean.

Tavra dismisses Naia by using the retainer ruse to order Naia to go prepare a chamber for her while she stays in the dining hall for a time.

Naia realizes she’s being dismissed but not out of contempt more excuse for her to leave.

Also, one of the Skeksis is just staring at Naia.

A familiar watching, like holes burning into her back. At the far end of the room, one of the lords was poised with his claws laced together, chin resting on his thick bony knuckles, red eyes fixed on her. His cloak and garb were all in black, giving him a countenance that seemed too wicked to befit a lord, or perhaps it was just the way he watched her.

... Is this skekVar? Whats your game, General?

So, yeah, Naia is happy to take the excuse to leave when some of the Gelfling guards come to take her to the All-Maudra’s guest chambers.

... with all the restraint she could muster, she fled, feeling the weight of the Skeksis’ stares on her shoudlers even after the doors to the banquet hall had closed.

Oof, tense conversation, amirite?

Castle isn’t so great as your imagination, I guess, Naia.

#dark crystal #the Dark Crystal #Shadows of the Dark Crystal #liveblog #Naia #Tavra #SkekSil #the Chamberlain #also every other skeksis at the castle

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testifytime · 4 years ago

Note

do everything for me, you already know about me BUT: im described as "chaotic faggot" by my friends, i have no filter, I can switch from being outgoing to really nervous in a second, i like drawing, dice, and divinitation. i hoard candles and incense, and i like paintball.

- A Pokemon team/type theme (+ fun facts abt your team!)

Your team is full of Poison types! They’re used the most often for rascly lil fucker trainers, so, it fits :3c

Your signature Pokemon is Toxtricity, though your team also consists of Whirlipede, Haunter, Gloom, Toxicroak, and Crobat!

Fun facts!

Your Toxtricity was sent to you by your juggabro. In his words, it’s a “cool Pokemon to fit your aesthetic but keep you on track”. It can be pretty overprotective, but sometimes it turns a blind eye to the more chaotic things you do.

Your Whirlipede is just an entire baby. Even though it’s got toxic spikes on its shell that COULD kill you, it’s pretty much a lapbug. You just have to try and remind it to be careful before it goes in for snuggles.

Your Haunter and Gloom actually kind of hate each other! Having them out at the same time often ends up with you either getting paralysed or put to sleep. They’re super sweet when they’re apart, though, and both LOVE scritches.

Toxicroak used to be really loveydovey when it was a Croagunk, but now it acts like it’s too cool for school. It’s really not. If you pay more attention to another Pokemon it WILL jab you in the stomach. And then it’ll pretend like it totally wasn’t even because it was jealous.

Your Crobat is the sweetest of the bunch!! It likes to collect (read: steal) things for you that it thinks you’ll like, and is almost always attached to your back out of its Pokeball. Sometimes without you wanting it to be. It can be a bit of a pain, sometimes.

- Bloodcaste/lusus/chumhandle as if you were a Homestuck troll (+lore)

You’re a purpleblood with a seaserpent lusus! Your chumhandle is acquiredTalisman.

You live with your lusus in a hive that boarders where the jungle forest ends and the beach begins. It’s a pretty popular spot for violetbloods, admittedly, but it’s also the only place your giantass Seaserpentdad can actually fit; the mouth of the river is deep and leads directly out into the ocean, where he spends most of his time. The hive itself is pretty cluttered - because man, you suck at keeping shit tidy - and filled to the brim with your dice collections, your religious paraphenalia, and all the random junk you’ve stolen (of which there is a lot).

You have a few interests, of which the main is your religion. You’re a diviner of sorts, oddly sought out by your fellow purplebloods to tell them what their purpose is in life as stated by the Great Mirthful Messiahs. You’re not entirely sure that they really do speak through you, but your readings are scary-accurate, and not only does it mean that you’ve made more friends, but you’ve made a fuck tonne of money, too. You’re more fond of practicing with your friends, or on your own, sneaking what you can beneath your lusus’ snout; so far, he hasn’t seemed to question the candle collection you have, or the alter with the Faygo bottlecaps, or the cards, or pendulum made from a grubbone you got from one of your customers. Actually, he hasn’t noticed much of anything? You’re hesitant to go TOO far, but you do like pushing at what you can get away with every now and then.

On top of that, you love to draw - mostly as a form of worship, but also just for fun with your juggabros. You send drawings back and forth, even though you’ve never been able to meet them, and it’s pretty fun! You hope one day that you can get them to your favourite hangout spot to cause a little chaos - which usually means trashing the violetbloods’ rich boy shit and stealing things you know they’re too proud to tattle about. You don’t... always remember doing those things? But you definitely remember the amount of violetbloods that give you nasty glares whenever you walk past. It’s okay, though. You have a rifle and you’re not afraid to use it.

Beyond that, though, you’re... kind of lonely. There’s nobody that you really consider a friend around you, and when your friends do visit you, it’s only every few months. Having all those customers and the nasty violetbloods hanging around is great, sure, but... sometimes you wish you could move your hive closer inland to be near your juggabros. You could, you guess. But then where would your lusus go?

Your lusus is kind of ridiculously huge. You really couldn’t miss him even on the horizon, his giant form standing stark against the two moons. Not that he spends a whole lot of time above the water, though. He pretty much only comes back to get fed and throw a fit if he sees any of your purpleblood customers hanging around.

- Symbol/guardian/chumhandle as if you were a Homestuck kid (+lore)

Your symbol is a and your guardian is your big bro! Your chumhandle is augmentedTemptation.

You and your older bro kick it in a sweet lil bottom-floor apartment. It’s kinda dingy, kinda shitty, but it’s the best he can afford and you’re not really one to complain when you know how hard he works just to keep the leaky roof over your head. It’s got everything you want out of a home, anyway; separate bedrooms, tiny bathroom, sweet hangout pad that doubles as a kitchen (which you’ve got a curtain draped over so that it looks like they’re two rooms) - it’s pretty neat. It’s also got a fire escape out the back and easy access to the lobby doors that’re easy to pick, so you figure it’s kinda home.

You absolutely fucking love to play paintball. You’ve got a painball gun that you maybe stole from the store once, and a couple pellets you’ve been buying for cheap online whenever you have the money. You don’t... actually have anyone to play with, but hey, cop cars make a great target. It feeds into your general need for chaos, which isn’t limited to - but has involved - petty theft, breaking into cars, and spray painting defametory phrases against racists and homophobes on billboards. You’ve never actually been caught. Okay, you got caught once, but you’re really good at crying. You’re pretty sure your bro doesn’t know about that.

You like to practice witchy shit in your spare time. You’ve got altars set up for your patrons, and a candle collection that you really don’t know that you’re ever gonna burn through. Plus, incense! Your bro kind of hates the smell, but you just crack open a window and it’s like he doesn’t even know. You’ve also got a pretty fair collection of crystals, but that’s more because people just keep giving them to you? It’s wild what they’ve thought were just normal rocks, and you’re pretty sure some of your collection could sell for a pretty buck, but they make way better offerings.

Of course, you also love to talk to your friends online. You have a bunch! You’re pretty easy to get on with, you think, so you end up just kinda collecting people into one giant group of friends that never stops growing. You share art, play games, chat, make them worried sick when you do dumb shit - it’s great.

Sometimes at dusk you like to go up to the roof of the apartment block you and your bro live in and stand right on the edge. It’s so high up you can see around for miles, and everything below you looks like a speck of dust beneath your feet. The stars twinkle above you in the darkening sky, just barely visible, and you think, every now and then, that you are very, very small.

- A FNAF animatronic design and name

You’re a broken down animatronic, probably one of the earliest of your kind. Maybe even a prototype? Nobody really remembers anymore. You’ve just kind of always been there, at the back of the store, half a body and more coherent than people expect you to be, but never fully quite there. Your head lulls back and forth, your arms moving sluggishly, and in order to get around, you drag yourself across the floor.

You can speak, but not by much. It’s glitchy and switched out more often than not, absolutely terrifying to hear in the dark - but you’re a pretty sweet soul, all things considered. The few who’ve been brave enough to slip back behind the old, abandoned doors, past the cobwebs and through the narrow halls, who haven’t run at the first sight of you, tell tales of a sweet carcass who seemed more scared of being found than anything else.

There are a couple kids who routinely come back to visit you. They like to give you things they’ve found outside the pizzaria, mostly coins and old dice and things that smell sweet to try and cover up how musty you are.

You’ve never hurt a soul the entire time you’ve been there, but your reputation has been built on the whispers of kids who’ve seen the rotting maw of your muzzle, the glint of your endoskeleton and the shine of your eyes in the dark. They call you Thing - as if giving you a name will make you come to life.

The ones that know you better call you Peppi.

- A BNHA Quirk and hero title

Your Quirk is Corroding Touch. Despite its name, and how terrifying it sounds, your quirk is pretty simple! Anything you touch wastes away, and you can control how far along its own personal timeline it decays through. For instance, you could touch a flower and have it start wilting, and stop there on its timeline - or you could have it waste away to a point that it decays completely and turns to mush.

The drawback here is that what you’re doing is essentially speeding up a natural process. Things that don’t waste away without outside forces - such as rocks through erosion - won’t be affected by your quirk. Things that live very long lives before decaying - such as turtles - will take up a lot more of your time to speed them through their natural timeline. Finally, you can’t reverse what you’ve done. Once you’ve sped it through its natural timeline, there’s no going back; another quirk will have to undo the effects.

Of course, it also means that if you plant an oak seed, instead of waiting hundreds of years for it to grow into an oak tree, you can just use your quirk to speed up the process. So it’s a good-bad thing!

Your hero title is the Wasteful Hero: Corrosion. You’re a sort of last-resort hero, and you don’t like being in the limelight. Your quirk is dangerous if not handled correctly, so you work on a team with another hero who has a counter-effective quirk to yours (essentially Hyper Growth!). A lot of civillians are scared of you, but that’s okay. You know that what you do is important, and that your ranking doesn’t matter so long as you’re saving lives.

You are a little bitter, though, that your partner is several ranks ahead of you.

#turnfagshithead #long post//#heartless prince rambles

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yumi-michiyo · 5 years ago

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Tempo [5/?]

Rating: K+, may be subject to change later

Genre: Humour/Fluff/Slowburn

Pairing(s): Kristoff/Elsa (Kristelsa), some Kristoff/Anna (Kristanna)

Summary: Their pace varies; sometimes fast, sometimes slow, but always in harmony. Canon!AU, takes place immediately after the first movie. A series of drabbles.

Part 1 here

Part 2 here

Part 3 here

Part 4 here

Five: Con Slancio – with enthusiasm

“Do you think we could see it?”

“See what?”

“Your house.”

Kristoff hesitated. “Uh, it’s not really fit for visitors at the moment.” That was an euphemism, really; he hadn't been back in months. His house (really a hut) was probably musty and leaky and generally uninhabitable.

"I don't mind,” said Elsa gently, “you know that.”

Of course he did. Even now, closer to acquaintances than friends, Kristoff knew that Elsa wasn’t the type of person that cared about appearances. He just didn't like the idea of bringing her somewhere unpleasant; especially not after he had finally broken the chain of bad luck that dogged their little trips together.

It was also rare that Elsa made requests; enough that Kristoff would have given her the moon if she’d asking him for it.

He realised Elsa was still waiting for an answer.

Clearing his throat, Kristoff said: "Let me go take a look and clean it up before we head there, okay? Wouldn't want you to think I live in a garbage dump."

Her laughter was musical. "Kristoff," she protested, "I would never think that."

Kristoff decided to go for humour. “You say that, but wait ‘til you see it.”

He was busy, and the trip kept being postponed. Gradually the promise fell from his mind.

Until the day he, Anna, and Elsa were delayed on their way back from a trip to the ice lakes. It was dark by the time they were halfway through. “We shouldn’t have dallied that long,” he fretted.

“I’m sorry,” said Anna dejectedly. “I shouldn’t have insisted on meeting Jovnna’s family.” She slumped lower in the seat beside him.

“No, it’s okay. I should’ve kept a better track of time.” Kristoff wrapped an arm around Anna’s shoulders and squeezed. “C’mon, cheer up, Fiestypants. You were just being nice.”

Inwardly, though, Kristoff’s mind was racing, calculating their options. They risked being attacked by wolves if they continued on, not to mention the dangers of pitfalls and crevasses; the moon was a slim crescent, not enough to light the path reliably.

“Oh,” he said suddenly.

“Oh?”

“My house.”

“Your house?” It was Elsa who had spoken this time.

“Yeah, I have a hut around this area,” said Kristoff, deliberately not meeting Elsa’s gaze. “We can spend the night there and continue travelling next morning.”

“You have a house?” asked Anna, wrinkling her nose. “Don’t you, like, live with your family?”

Kristoff snorted. “And sleep curled up among the rocks? Yeah, no thanks.” He flicked Sven’s reins. “You know the way, buddy,” he said to the reindeer, who snorted. Turning back to Anna, he continued: “I got my own place once I was old enough to look after myself.”

“And how old were you when that happened?”

“Uhhh…” He didn’t know when he was born. Kristoff vaguely remembered a faceless woman tell him he was six winters old some time before the accident. He couldn’t remember exactly how much time had passed between then and the time he’d run off to the trolls. “I’m twenty-one winters old this year, I reckon; so I must’ve been… fifteen?”

“You reckon? You don’t know how old you are?” Anna put her hand on his arm. “Kristoff, when's your birthday?"

Kristoff shrugged. Heat prickled the back of his neck. “I dunno. Look, it wasn’t really important then, and it still isn’t. What matters is that you're old enough to work and look after yourself. Me and Sven just add a year on the first day of spring; that’s easy enough to remember.”

Whatever Anna said in response was lost when the sled jerked; Sven had darted forward.

"Whoa! What's the big hurry, Sven?" Kristoff squinted ahead. He glimpsed a familiar trail marker and whooped in excitement. “Alright! We’re close! Home, buddy!”

The reindeer harrumphed excitedly and sped up.

"Don't think we're done with this conversation, reindeer boy," huffed Anna.

Kristoff pretended not to hear as he pulled up the sled in a clearing in front of a hut. He hopped off, already fishing out the key from inside his shirt. "Uh," he said, "welcome to my house."

"Oooh, this looks nice." Anna bounced eagerly on the balls of her feet behind him as he fumbled with the lock.

The smell hit him when he got the door open. It smelt musty, and every surface Kristoff could see had a thick coat of dust. Luckily, it was mostly intact otherwise. Kristoff exhaled in relief.

"Oooh," repeated Anna brightly and with more enthusiasm, unwinding her scarf. "This looks nice."

"Oh, shoot, hang on." He darted forward, scooping up a dirty plate from the table and shoving it into a cupboard, out of sight. "Sven! Can you wait outside for a bit while I get your stall ready?"

Sven froze in the doorway, snorted his assent, and then backed out. Elsa stepped into the house around him, looking amused.

“No, wait.” He retrieved a broom from the cupboard in the corner of the hut. "Uh, can you guys wait outside in the sled?" Kristoff surveyed the place; his eye traveled over the untidy dining table and the cold hearth full of ash. At the very least, he'd remembered to strip his bed before he’d left, so the cupboard was full of clean bedding.

He'd been perfectly content with all this before, but now it seemed shabby and small compared to the castle.

Anna bounded over. "Can we help?"

"It's fine."

"Please?" It was Elsa who spoke this time.

Kristoff hesitated. "Look, I don't really wanna be the guy who made the queen and princess of Arendelle do housework…"

"But this is kinda survival work." Anna waved a hand. "It's fine. Is this where you keep your cleaning stuff?" She pointed at the cupboard.

"Actually, can you two help me get a fire going?" Kristoff said.

"Consider it done."

"Great. There should be firewood in the other corner – " he pointed "– and a box of matches next to it." Kristoff caught himself. "Wait, do you know how to start a fire? You need to sweep all the ashes out of the hearth first."

"I'm on it," said Anna excitedly. She grabbed the rake.

"Wait, Anna! Set out the cloth on the floor first!" He dropped the broom and snatched up the cloth – just in time for Anna to sweep a large pile of ash onto it.

"That worked out fine," said Anna. "We make a good team." She stacked logs in the hearth, quickly getting the fire started.

When Kristoff straightened up, he noticed Elsa had picked up his discarded broom and was finishing up the work. "You don't have to do that," he said, holding out his hand for the broom.

"It's fine," she said. "Like Anna said, this is survival work." Elsa smiled at him, and resumed her work.

Kristoff blushed. "Uh, well, if you say so." He busied himself with cleaning up Sven's stall, going to the storage shed outside to fetch clean straw.

He paused to knock snow off his boots on the step. In the short time he was gone, there was a fire crackling in the hearth and a mound of blankets in front of it. Kristoff frowned. The mound was… cackling…?

"Elsa found a cupboard full of blankets and cleaned it out," said the blankets. Anna poked her head out, her hair a complete mess. "This is gonna be the best blanket fort ever."

He dumped the clean straw in the stall and called Sven in. "I guess we don't need that anymore," said Kristoff with a sigh as the reindeer clumped in, spotted the blanket pile, and excitedly burrowed into the mound.

"Oops. I'm sorry," she said.

"Nah, he's just ungrateful that way."

Sven brayed indignantly, and Kristoff laughed. "Okay, what do you need for this fort of yours?"

"Can you fetch me some chairs, please?"

He'd never built a blanket fort before. Anna didn't seem to care, and cheerfully bullied him and Elsa (who had finished sweeping) into following her directions until they had a snug nest.

"Perfect," said Anna. "Sven?"

The reindeer – his antlers part of the fort's structural support – lifted his head, creating an entrance. She crawled in and sat up on her haunches. "Come in, guys."

"Glad you think so." Kristoff obediently occupied the space Anna indicated to him, on her right. On Anna's other side, Elsa tucked her legs under her and yawned.

"Goodnight, everyone." She crawled into the space between them, tucked a pillow under her head, and fell asleep.

Kristoff was exhausted. Sleep tugged at his senses, willing him to rest. But he fought it, sitting upright and glancing over at Elsa. "Are you comfy? Are you cold? I have some furs somewhere."

"I'm fine," said Elsa around a huge yawn.

It was the most unqueenly thing he'd seen her do, and only his own exhaustion was stopping him from bursting into laughter. "Okay. Uh – let me know if you need anything else."

She nodded. "Kristoff?"

“Hmm?”

“You don’t live in a garbage dump.” She lay down and closed her eyes.

“That’s because you guys helped clean it,” he muttered, but she was already asleep.

He woke to the sound of rocks grinding.

It wasn't unpleasant; he'd been raised by trolls, and the harsh grating sound was common when their rock bodies collided. But it was much louder than Kristoff was accustomed to, and he was also very snug and warm – something not associated with trolls.

Kristoff opened his eyes.

The grating sound was coming from Anna, who was snoring loud enough for a valley of trolls.

He squinted at her. Kristoff vaguely remembered Anna falling asleep between himself and Elsa… and now she was on top of him, which meant…

Kristoff glanced to his left, and saw white-blonde hair.

His chest was currently a pillow for Anna, like how his left arm was Elsa's pillow. He was lying on his back and completely immobilized by Arendelle's queen and princess.

He sighed. He tested his right arm and found it occupied by Sven. "You too, buddy?"

Sven huffed sleepily and settled closer to them.

What light he could see was bright enough to penetrate the roof of the blanket fort, which probably meant it was close to midday. Kristoff was amazed by how late they'd slept; he was normally up with the sun.

His head rolled to the left towards Elsa. She was still sound asleep.

When he flexed his arm, she muttered something in her sleep and clutched his hand.

Kristoff froze.

#fanfic #frozen #my writing #kristelsa #kristoff #elsa #anna #story: tempo #tempo: part 5

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spookysnicket · 5 years ago

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ANON: i apologize immensely if this isn't something you're comfortable with writing, but could i maybe get some headcanons for how Bubba Sawyer and Vincent Sinclair would be with a s/o who has an eating disorder, specifically anorexia? i've been kinda having a Not Fun Time lately with some struggles and could use some fluffy boyos. if this isn't something you're comfortable with though, i 100% understand

---

(Hey love, don’t you worry about a thing! I’m so sorry this took a bit to get out, I spent the past few days doing research and taking notes on EDs, hopefully to get these as accurate as possible- and then I saved this in my drafts all night thinking I posted it. I want to make a disclaimer though, that this whole post has the potential to be triggering, so big trigger warning in advance! I also have never personally dealt with anyone who’s had an eating disorder, so please let me know if any of these are harmful or inaccurate and I’ll edit them immediately. With all that aside, please be safe and take care. HCs below the cut)

Bubba Sawyer 🐓

🐓 If we’re being honest, at first the brothers just think you don’t want to eat other people- which isn’t wrong, but not correct, either. This dawns on Bubba when he puts together seeing you cook with Drayton, yet not having any of the meals yourself

🐓 His first reaction is concern. Out of the way of his brothers, Bubba will approach you with a bowl half full of chili and anxious babbling- the poor guy just doesn’t know what's wrong. He understands how difficult it can be to struggle against yourself, so if you aren’t ready to open up just then, he’ll worriedly relent until you are

🐓 Once you break it to him that you have an ED, you’re going to have to explain a little more. Bubs was only raised by the rules of family and food. He doesn’t quite grasp the concept of you not being able to eat regularly

🐓 When the light above his head finally flickers on, he’s full protective mode. Considering how crude and brutish Nubbins, Chop Top, and Drayton can be, Bubs is officially taking no chances with their remarks. “Hey, Y/N looks-” No. “Y/N, you should-” No. “Oh hey Y/N, you want-” No. He’s putting his big boy foot down, even if it’s on his family- he’s not letting anyone or anything mess with your recovery. You’re in this together!

🐓 Bubba immediately starts worrying that whatever long forgotten canned goods in the cupboards and cabinets aren’t well enough for you, so he'll sit you down and make a list of your favorite foods. The next few days Bubs spends pleading and whimpering and crying at Drayton’s feet until he finally goes grocery shopping- praise the saw

🐓 In their usual valiant attempts to be supportive, Chop Top and Nubbins add their own rather ridiculous requests to the shopping list so they too can protest with Bubba (Any reason for them to cause a ruckus is a good one)

🐓 Since you’re a part of the family now, you’re expected to uphold the “Sawyer clan values”.. That’s the phrase Drayton used in his speech to give you chores, anyway. The younger three always try to swap out their less exerting duties with you though, especially on the days which you feel excessively fatigued or worn out

🐓 Effectively, you have an entourage of caretakers! As much as Bubba would love to be physically attached to your side (he’s probably thought about it), he carries the bulk of the workload- meaning he’s stuck downstairs busy as a bee more often than not. Regardless, his brothers always manage to stay nearby and on the lookout for any signs of wooziness from you while you go about your chores

🐓 Now, with that considered, the boys know good as anyone that you don’t need to be babied. You get Drayton’s crap and Nubbins and Chop Top’s pranks just as much as everyone else- because you’re a part of them. You’re as strong as any Sawyer, and Bubba couldn’t be any more proud

Vincent Sinclair 🕯

🕯 A part of being Vincent’s S/O is being his muse- which is why he’s a tad shell shocked when you start tearing up at the sight of a drawing he’d made of you

🕯 Prior to this, Vincent had likely done plenty of stalking- at least enough for him to determine that you suffer from some sort of disorder. This was partially why he had mustered up his confidence and shown you his art in the first place- with hopes that it would help. Unfortunately, it had unplanned adverse effects. Vinny spends the next few hours feeling horribly guilty, and attempting to properly educate himself with your aid

🕯 Vincent reacts similarly to how Bubba does in regards to his brothers and their insensitivity. Lester’s quick to show understanding, but Bo .. well, is Bo, and takes longer to cut the jokes and respect your afflictions. It’s a rare occasion that Vincent makes his stance clear, so his brothers will both do their best to give you their support too

🕯 If you’re one to exercise a bit excessively, the boys will come together and make accommodations. Lester’s cleared out a small pathway around Ambrose for you to jog along, that passes by all the major buildings where they typically can be found. Bo is, without a doubt, the guy to have a workout room. You two can schedule times to spot each other and exercise there together. Vincent, in hopes to find less physically trying ways to get your fitness fix in, has dedicated a whole space just to you in the museum where you can try out yoga

🕯 Vincent’s picked up on how you silently struggle with your self image. Finding little wax trinkets on the sink counter in your bathroom is a common occurrence, as well as sticky notes plastered onto your mirror. The notes are short but sweet, written in Vinny’s trademark cursive, and usually compliment your eyes, hair, outfit, etc.

🕯 There isn’t exactly a whole bountiful list of things to keep yourself occupied with in Ambrose, and Vincent often worries about you not having any creative outlets of which you can take out your frustrations with. Knowing this, Lester came back from a roadkill run with one big word he’d heard from a passerby: aromatherapy. If you’re outdoorsy, try going into the woods and scavenging for any pleasant smelling flowers that grow nearby- Vincent will take them and, after some trial and error testing, turn them into scented candles

🕯 You getting sick is one of Vincent’s biggest concerns. He knows he’ll be too preoccupied with work to be able to properly care for you- meaning that it’s up to his brothers to nurse you for a majority of the day. It’s not quite as bad as he thinks, Bo and Lester mostly do a fine job of checking in on you, but you’d be lying if you said that they’re better than the extra cuddly and extra clingy Vincent you get once he’s home

🕯 Vinny is a huge cuddle bug on the down low. I HC that aside from all the psychological and mental struggles he faces, sleeping is difficult for him due to his injuries as well. If you have a hard time getting rest, you both will often lay in your shared bed, all wrapped up in one another long into the late hours of the night, and early on into the first morning lights

🕯 Whether it be surprising or not, Vinny has quite the wardrobe. It mostly consists of cozy earthy tones, with an excess of large musty sweaters tattered by, from what you could guess, is either wear or moths. Seeing as they’re somewhat loose on Vincent himself, his oversized sweaters drape over you heavily, and conceal your form. Once he notices you’ve taken a liking to a handful of them, Vincent will happily tailor them to better suit you- pinning up the baggiest areas that rub uncomfortably against your skin, while still leaving enough material to cover and alleviate some of your insecurities- if just for a while

🕯 In the event you get so cold that even your comfy sweaters can’t stop you from shivering, you’re more than welcome to go down to the basement and warm up with Vincent. While there’s a chilly draft all through the passageway, the combination of steam, lit candles, and open fires in his workshop make it just comfortably above room temperature

#tw #im honestly so dumb i thought i posted these last night (((:::#but i hope youre doing well and you enjoy these despite the wait #also #if you ever need to talk to someone #my dms are and always will be open #<3 #bubba sawyer #texas chainsaw #TCM #x reader #slasher x reader #slasher fandom #slasher headcannons #headcanon #slashers

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sunflowershayne · 6 years ago

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mortal kombat au

bc i’m a dumb thot that’s severely attached to MK and smosh so.... uwu

ian hecox: liu kang. one of the most recognizable characters, generally considered the “hero” of the MK universe, one of the most powerful human characters, has fire magic and idk i just strongly relate ian to fire sometimes. also very fiercely protective of those he cares about, and will do whatever he can to help others. stubborn and vengeful, even when it can be petty.

noah grossman: ermac. has probably stolen at least 1,000 souls in his lifetime, has an unspeakable aura, has green magic (weed), has that one fatality where he takes out your stomach and noah is v picky so it fits i think. currently has free will and chooses his battles in self-preservation, and wants what’s best for his home and the world he grew up in. has a very strong connection to family due to having the former outworld king’s soul inside of him.

olivia sui: skarlet. is a very strange little creature with an obsession for others’ blood, one of the most powerful girls in the MK universe due to her magic, has the potential to take everything over but just wants approval. is also incredibly brutal but in a subtle way, has an ethereal and almost elegant way to her. basically i just see them both as weird gremlin women with insane amounts of power.

keith leak jr.: kung lao. very close with liu kang, iconic hat, is one of the more mundane humans due to not having a power, but is just as formidable as other kombatants due to his rage and his sheer knowledge of fighting. has a legacy he wants to live up to (the great kung lao is kinda like kung lao sr. right?), and is protective of his family (the shaolin monks). is generally more pissed off than liu kang.

courtney miller: cassie cage. sassy wlw (cassie’s not a confirmed wlw but like... come on, she’s. not straight), has latent magic within her, strong ties to her family, doesn’t rely on her power to fight with others despite being able to. strong badass woman that supports others, literally could kill a man by kicking them in the nuts. uwu-loving, selfie-taking, snapchat-filtering, ass-kicking lady that takes no prisoners.

shayne topp: johnny cage. muscular blond actor that is not-so humble about how they perceive themselves, very jokey and sarcastic, REFERENCES REFERENCES REFERENCES, pop culture, will flirt with anyone if it means he can be out of danger. consistently shirtless, but also incredibly loyal and steadfast, and has a very good heart. will do ANYTHING for his family and friends, including defeat a literal elder god in combat.

lasercorn: scorpion. fire man made of vengeance and anger, loves his clan more than anything, literal hellspawn, has a thing for sub-zero, is actually just a skull under a ninja mask, has actual flame hair, impulsive and has a short fuse. wants nothing more than to avenge his family and clan, and does absolutely anything he can to make sure that he gets what he wants. becomes besties with sub-zero (more than besties but like.... i’m not gonna say it Out Loud lest Ed Boon come murder me in my sleep!!!!!!!!)

jovenshire: erron black. gunslingin’ rowdy boy that tries to flirt with unsuccessful results, has his own interests and goals in mind when he makes decisions, chooses battles based on how much he can gain from each possibility. listens to country music and unironically does the boot-scootin’ boogie, has strong beliefs that people are allowed to make their own decisions and do what they want. a strangely coy and erotic cowboy.

mari takahashi: kitana. ethereal princess of an entire realm, goes from wanting to please others to making her own decisions and being loyal to herself, can kill a man with just a kiss, is besties (i mean in canon they’re dating but like. Not Here!!!!) with liu kang. has hopes for the future, will do whatever it takes to prevent bad things from happening, surprisingly very violent despite being so nice.

sohinki: sub-zero. generally a chill guy that will kick your ass mercilessly when given the chance, may or may not be lasercorn’s true enemy, initially was kind of a strict dude but now he’s just chill and wants to have a good time. always seems to show up whenever others need him, and basically just takes things in stride. all around good addition to a team, but can be stubborn and unmoving.

wes johnson: mileena. very giddy at first, but calms down a bit later on, desperately wants to be considered part of a family, has a strong temper and craves some sort of control, wants stability and prosperity for themselves. proud of their accomplishments and are always looking for people to acknowledge them, big eaters. is like a younger sibling that pesters you for candy. more powerful than they know.

boze: sonya blade. no-nonsense, won’t hesitate bitch, will kill you within a moment’s notice if you cross her, strong and independent with a soft spot for her friends, idk i just really associate boze with army green, was almost definitely a very emo teen. expects a lot from cassie but loves her with all her heart, is ride or die, ambitious and knows what she wants. go-getter through and through.

damien haas: kenshi. is almost definitely a psychic, values honor, besties with shayne, is a GOOD DAD!!!!!!! (fuck mkx’s portrayal of kenshi as a father tbh!!!!!!! takeda deserves better and SO DOES KENSHI!), is 1000% a cat person, has telekinesis probably, kitanas. knows a lot of shit, is lowkey shady af, helps scorpion in the new timeline (which... damien and lasercorn are... mind brothers), helps the Kombat Kids train bc they need it

flitz: kotal kahn. sun god, can and will turn into a lion at any moment, probably just glows sometimes for fun, is real into jade (which. aren’t we all.), is less interested in conquering and more into internal affairs and uniting people, proud of his body (bc kotal’s always shirtless, y’know.), would definitely drink blood for youth and sustenance. is able to teleport and has telekinesis, but it’s just w/e y’know!

rhett & link: raiden. the protector(s) of earthrealm and savior of the MK storyline, all-powerful immortal gods, are like WAY too fucking tall, did i mention that raiden is an elder god and that rhett & link literally saved our asses? gods, truly.

defy executives: shang tsung. old-ass, musty-ass, soul-stealing bitch, is liu kang’s arch-nemesis, brought sindel back to life which literally almost killed everyone in the MK timeline until they were brought back due to the time shenanigans. fuckin’ dusty soul-grabbing bastards that don’t even have good fatalities smh.

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emomemelordess · 6 years ago

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Running home to you

Chapter 1/?

You were floating just above the surface of the lake, looking towards the cabin Stark cabin. You had givin your condolences, and said goodbye to everyone, but just couldn’t bring yourself to leave, just yet. Thor had offered you a place in New Asgard, but you couldn’t accept his offer. You knew where you were going. And you also knew that everyone would object. You finally turned your back to the cabin, and pushed a small pulse of magic through your hands, to propel yourself father away from the surface of the lake. You rose above the trees, then turned to the north, and speed off.

After hours of flying, and rest stops to get food, or aextra layer, as it got colder. You finally, after 15 hours of flying, got to the place you called home. You were in a mountain cave, that you had created. It was kinda like the old Stark home, but more homey, less.. Stark. When you landed in front of the door, you took a deep breath, before you entered.

It smelled a little musty, but that was to be expected. You looked around and silent tears streamed out of your eyes, which were now all black. You went to the one wall that was all picture, and looked at them. There in the middle was the biggest one, the one of the silhouette of Loki, looking out at the ocean, as the sun set, siding the sky a beautiful blue to purple to pink to orange gradient. You had taken the picture right before Loki had given you his ring, promising you his heart would only ever belong to you. That was the day you knew you truly loved. Him, and that he was going to be the man you spent the rest of your life with. The pictures surrounding the middle one was all of you and Loki, some were of him kissing your cheek in front of places. Others were of you and him and his family. You finally tore yourself way from the wall, and walked to your bedroom.

You walked down the hall and fresh tears sprung to your eyes, as picture after picture and memory after memory sprung up. When you went into the bedroom and fell to your knees, and a silent sob escaped your lips. There was the present you had gotten Loki. It was a black ring, made of a rare Asgardian metal, with old Norse runes imprinted in the metal with a gold, that translated to ‘Mine Forever’ with your name stamped into the inside of the band in green. You was going to propose to Loki, in the same place he asked me to be his girlfriend. You already had a matching (but smaller) ring, that had his name stamped into it. You was still sobbing, but you picked myself up, and walked over to the box that held the ring. You opened it up with having hands, as you took the necklace he got me off my neck. You slipped both rings through the chain, and put the necklace back on.

Then you walked to his closet, and got a pair of his plain black trousers, a deep green shirt, that tied up in the front, and the ‘Loki’s Army’ hoddie that you had gotten him for our three year anniversary. They still smelled like him. You walked to the shower, and took a freezing cold one. You got out and changed, and then braided my long black hair, and went back to the bedroom. I got a few books, mostly picture books, and memory books. But you grabbed a few books we had read together. You also grabbed the book on his night stand. Your tears were most likely permanently tear stained, and were just getting worse as you went through all the books. At two A.M. You had went through all the books, exsept the one that was on his night stand. You opened it to the page the bookmark was on, and a letter fluttered out. Youput the book aside, and opened the note, and your already uneven breath hitched. You recognized Loki’s handwriting instantly.

Y/N,

If your reading this, that means Thanos got me. I want to tell you a few things. First, don’t cry, I know you probably still will, but try bot to cry to much. Second, remember I will always love you, even if I’m dead, I will always love you. Third, there is a little box in the very back of my dresser, open it, and in there is something I was going to give you for our five year anniversary. Fourth, is I will do everything I can to come back to you, my Cherry. And Firth, you are my everything, my last thought will be, or was, about You, it will always be about you, everything that I have done and everything (if all goes according to plan) I will do, will always be about you. I love you, and always will.

The sun will shine on us again,

Loki

The note only brought fresh tears to your eyes. You got out of the bed, and walked over to Lokis closet. As the note said, there was a small box in the back of the closet. You got it out and put it on the bed, you also took all the books off, and put them on the floor. You got into bed and put the box in your lap. You opened it up and inside was a jewelry box. Inside the jewelry box was a silver infinity ring, with small black white and green diamonds inlaid in it. More tears gushed out of your eyes as you slipped it on, and it fit perfectly. There was a note in there too, ‘This ring is a sign of my undieing love for you, my cherry. P.S. It’s enhanced with magic, so that is willl always fit, but never come ove unless you want it to.’ You looked at your right hand ring finger, and stared at the ring. You eventually fell asleep, and dreamed of Loki, telling you that there was a way for him to come back. But that you were the only one that could do it...

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satanayouth · 6 years ago

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ranting about life

Well hi im gonna rant and its gonna be a a long ride, a mix of English and Greek, and a also a bunch of mixed feelings. First of all I am finally happy after a really long 2018 of dealing with bipolar disorder, toxicity in friendships and school and just being sad-melancholic all the time for no particular reason really. Last year was a really long, really bumpy ride, that taught me to get organized, logical, goal oriented, do things that benefit me, make me feel good and not just trying to just please somebody else. Overall, I just finally found myself, learned to stand on my feet and to not get emotionally attached to anyone because it only causes trouble. All this I went through, drastically shaped how this year is and its perfect already. Since the start of the school year I’ve been doing perfect in school which makes me feel so confident and productive because I learnt how’s the more efficient way for me to study and set a routine that I can actually cope with. I’ve been also doing great in cheer and progressing, trying to be just as good as the best girls in the team. In addition, I started a health and fitness program trying to get healthier and losing weight, and also getting an acne treatment so that I can have finally have clear skin and no pain, in result, feeling so fucking confident and beautiful. Something that brings me down though is people’s opinions. No, I don’t mean the meaningless ones from like people you don’t like or don’t care about, but from people you are actually attached to. Something else that brings me down is the fact that I can’t keep up with my friendships in result losing everyone because all my friendships have a lifespan of 3-4 months. Also the fact that my friends usually selfishly brag about how hot they look, or how many guys like them, or how popular they are really annoys me and makes me feel self-conscious because no, im not the ideal, and no im not completely comfortable with myself yet. Yes you guys, I know that u don’t realize it when it happens but I feel really awkward not knowing what to say and i admit im kinda of jealous that you can get anyone want, while I haven’t even had my first kiss (ik pathetic, what?) and no guy has ever legitimately actually liked me. All this makes me feel pressured to rush things up and yea im from those kind of girls who want things to be meaningful and I don’t want to just make out with some random guy thats not worth it so I can just brag about it, cause thats nothing to brag about, ecspecially if he’s one of those musty guys we got in Greece. Tbh I lack affection and all this relationship and friendship stuff is what made last year miserable. Im stuck in a dark hole. I don’t know what I should do, ignore the problem and guys in general, or actually try it and fail again, and again, and again. And what about my friends? Cut them off like I usually do with people, or just talk to them once again? Well all I have to say is all this is going to stay unsolved for another year and im being dramatic, probably.

-c

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distant-rose · 6 years ago

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Seal of Fate Ch. 1 (2/8)

Notes: I actually love this chapter a lot for all of the wrong reasons, mainly because I’m kinda turning this entire selkie thing on its head. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. Please note there is a lot of discussion on the icky side of the male selkie myths which I find problematic and have decided to voice here. So, yeah, there’s talk of dubious consent and sexual harassment but nothing overtly triggering in my opinion. A special thank you to @aerica13 who is my amazing beta and a godsend because I’m shit at editing my own work. Also a thank you to @shireness-says and @katie-dub for being my cheerleaders. I really appreciate you guys. Also a special thanks to @cssns and @drowned-dreamer for making my CS Supernatural Summer pretty epic. Kerry did an amazing job making me art for this story. Check it out below! It’s absolutely gorgeous and unfortunately the kiss in this chapter isn’t as romantic but we’ll get there. Summary: Emma Swan is looking for only one thing - answers. Abandoned outside a police station in Menemsha, Martha’s Vineyard, Emma has dedicated her life to finding out where she comes from and why she was given away. She finds an unlikely partner in Killian, a selkie she inadvertently summons in a fit of frustration over her cold case. Word Count: 4,600+ Chapters: Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Epilogue Rating: T+

Emma hated the Vineyard. Though she wasn’t a people person, she preferred the anonymity that came with living in the city and the phenomena of being alone without actually being alone. It was easy to lose yourself in the hustle of the city, to turn your brain off and just walk aimlessly until you found something to distract you from the world for a while. There was no word to describe Menemsha except empty and she could feel that emptiness echoing inside her. While she had found some sort of companionship in Ruby whenever she went to the diner, it never went beyond casual conversation. Emma wasn’t necessarily looking for friendship - she was a loner by nature - but she found she couldn’t lose herself in Menemsha the same way she lost herself in Tallahassee, Boston and Portland. The silence of the village amplified the violence of her thoughts and her mind had become a torturous reel of her darkest moments. She couldn’t sleep with the echoes of the loud piercing shriek of a baby she would never hold, the compassionless voices of police officers reading her Miranda rights and the false platitudes of the countless foster parents who gave her away ringing in her ears. Normally when her demons came to bite her in the ass, Emma would throw herself into work but she found no solace in researching on her own case.

Emma knew when she decided to finally look into her own case that it was going to be a difficult and thankless job. She knew that it was possible that her attempts to unearth the truth of her past might end in disappointment and failure. It was a fact that hung over her head like guillotine. She had been born into an era before computers and in an age where social services was less than careful in their documentation. It was possible that what she was looking for didn’t exist or, even worse, had been destroyed.

Menemsha was a small village and technically a part of the town of Chilmark. Though it had a police station, it did not have a town hall, a library or even a post office. Rather, Memensha had more restaurants that it needed, a fish market, one bed and breakfast, a general store and an art gallery that belonged to the Mills family. The more essential amenities were located in Chilmark which was a twenty-five minute trip by car. Normally such a distance wasn’t such a bother to her but when gas was five dollars per gallon, Emma couldn’t help but be a little resentful of it. Though, the librarian at the Chilmark Free Public Library had been helpful and had campaigned on her behalf to give her access to the archives in the Town Office.

Emma had nearly cried when she saw the state of the archives. She didn’t have high expectations to begin with but it was literally a hundred boxes of old documents that had been shoved carelessly into a musty basement to be forgotten about. On top of the distant lack of organisation, there was obvious water and mold damages to some of the boxes which made her nervous at the state of which actual documents inside were in.

It took her more time than she would have liked to go through all the boxes and pick out all the files marked 1983 but once she was able, she was left with four boxes out of the bunch. She didn’t bother asking for permission when she loaded them up into her car. It wasn’t worth the headache and Emma strongly suspected that they wouldn’t be missed considering the state of the archive.

Nearly a week into her time in Martha’s Vineyard, Emma found what she was looking for.

Or so she thought.

Her heart nearly stopped when she found the thin file that had been marked with the her case number. It was covered in watermarks and already she could feel her optimism fade away as she noted how thin it was. There couldn’t have been more than a few documents in it.

The sight of her Chapter 46 Section 1A certificate was nothing new. The documentation that marked her as an abandoned child had long since been in her possession and she was still fighting with the Massachusetts Department of Children and Families for them to release documents made by her social worker in regard to the circumstances around her initial adoption. Despite the fact they were nearly thirty years old, the Department had a tight hold on them and wasn’t at all sympathetic to her cause.

Aside from her foundling certificate, there was only the police report. It wasn’t a long one but it was written in messy shorthand that seemed to convey the officer’s disinterest just as clearly as his words. Under the description section, they had written: “Just another unwanted souvenir most likely left behind by one of the fishing boats coming in from down south. No point in interviewing them, they’ll just deny it anyway.”

She read the lines over and over until her eyes blurred over, breath shortening and skin feeling too tight over her bones. Suddenly, Ruby’s house which had felt too big before now felt suffocating. Every cell in her body was screaming at her to run.

Without bothering to put on her shoes or her coat, she sprinted out of the house and ran out onto the beach. She stumbled when her feet hit the sand, entirely unfamiliar with the sensation and lack of give. She collapsed along the shore line, pressing a hand to her throat and vomiting into surf.

When she was finished, she stared out at the ocean, trying to calm herself. It was nearly dusk and there was no one around to witness her hysteria, something which Emma was incredibly thankful for. She didn’t need her nosy neighbors to witness her existential crisis.

As her panic attack subdued, Emma closed her eyes and reviewed once more in her mind the callous words on the police report.

An unwanted souvenir.

The term brought tears to her eyes once more. She had to bite her lip to keep back the scream that was burning her throat. She couldn’t remember the name of the man who had written the report, only his words, but she had never felt such an intense hatred for another human being before, not even when Neal had set her up and sent her to prison.

How dare he! How dare he not think she was worth investigating! She wasn’t a souvenir! She was a person! A person who deserved a real investigation and deserved to know the truth! This man, this nameless officer who had become the focal point of Emma’s anger, had robbed her of the truth, of the justice that an abandoned little girl deserved.

More angry tears slipped down her cheek. Emma didn’t bother to wipe them away as she stared out at the setting sun, more heartbroken and more alone than she had never felt in her entire life.

“Hello love.”

Emma jumped, she hadn’t realised she wasn’t alone. However when she saw her uninvited visitor, she let out a loud yelp. A pale man was emerging from the surf, naked as the day he was he was born, and coming towards her with purpose. She stumbled backward into the sand, wincing as her ass landed on a decidedly sharp shell. She grabbed an abandoned beer bottle and tossed it at him. She missed by a mile.

“You’re naked! Why the hell are you naked? Does Menemsha not follow any public decency laws or something!” Her eyes bulged as another thought occurred. “Oh god! Is this a nude beach? Is my house in front of a nude beach? What the fuck!”

The man stared at her in a mixture of startlement and confusion. He tilted his head to the side, regarding her the same way a dog did when it realised its master had tricked it out of a treat.

“In all of my years, I’ve never gotten that reaction before!”

“Dude! For real! You’re naked! Put some goddamn clothes on!”

The man ignored her. Instead, he advanced forward. She took a few steps back but his stride was longer than hers. He touched her arm gently with one hand and framed her cheek with the other, thumb wiping away a stray tear.

“Your sadness called to me. I couldn’t ignore it.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” Emma asked in a harsh whisper, trying to pull away.

“I can make it go away…if only for a little while…” he murmured before leaning down and shocking the hell out of Emma by capturing her lips in a fierce kiss.

She let out a shriek of surprise before pushing him away with all of her strength. As soon as she broke free, she struck him against the face with a closed fist and then raised her knee to strike him in the groin. He let out a groan of pain before crumbling to the sand and swearing violently at her.

“Bloody fucking hell! What was that for? You nearly destroyed my nadgers there, love!”

“Because you’re a fucking pervert!” She hissed hotly at him.

“Not a pervert! I’m a selkie!”

“What the fuck is a selkie!?”

“Do you not know your legends, woman? Have you never heard of the seal folk?”

“Am I being punk’d?” Emma looked around, trying to find any hidden camera men but there was no one around. She looked down at the man still keeled over in pain with narrowed eyes. “What the fuck is going on!?”

“You dropped seven tears in the ocean…”

“And what does that have to do with the price of tea in China?” She asked, placing her hands on her hips.

The man let out a pain chuckled, still holding his tender parts as he looked up her with a look that was caught between amused and disbelieving. “You honestly know nothing, do you?”

“I know how to work a taser and frankly, I think that’s all I need to know at the moment.”

“I don’t know what that is but it sounds menacing.”

“You bet your ass it is. Start talking. Now.”

The man licked his lips for a moment, eying her warily. “You really are a fearsome lass.”

“And you’re stalling.”

“You dropped tears into the ocean, love, and not just any tears. Tears of genuine distress and loneliness. Selkies are attracted to loneliness. It’s a siren’s call to us. We thrive on turning loneliness into pleasure.”

“Right,” she replied with a snort. “Pull the other one.”

“It’s the truth,” he replied seriously, looking her straight in the eye.

Emma studied him closely. Though he was complete pervert with zero sense of personal space, he didn’t seem to be lying. If he had, her superpower would have picked up on it.

“You know I’m not lying,” he whispered.

“I know one thing and that’s that you believe all of this. That doesn’t mean it’s true. What it means is that you’re certifiable and there’s probably a mental institution nearby.”

“I’m not from a mental institution,” he frowned.

“Maybe not,” she said before she finally noticed the wet pile of black fur next to him. Her eyes widened as she realised it looked exactly like one of the seat pelts hanging on Mr. Gold’s property. “Maybe the local jail? Considering you’re a thief and all.”

She reached out to pick up the pelt but the man let out an inhuman snarl and snatched her hand than she could blink. When she looked up at his face, his eyes looked more black than blue.

“I would prefer if you didn’t touch that,” he said in an eerily calm voice. “I find myself in less than ideal circumstances when a woman touches my pelt.”

“You’re not human,” she whispered, fear rising up her throat.

“No,” he agreed as he released her hand. “I’m not.”

That’s when Emma’s self-preservation kicked in. As soon as she registered his words, she ran back to the safety of the beach house. She proceeded to lock the door and all of the windows, parking herself on the ancient loveseat located in front entrance. She toyed with her cell phone, passing between her hands as she kept her eyes trained on the door.

If she were anywhere else in the world, she would have called the police. However, Menemsha only had three cops whom Emma had met and found incredibly lacking. She had more faith in a mall rent-a-cop than she did in the men who were supposedly Menemsha’s main law enforcement. She could always call the Chilmark police but she had a sneaking suspicion that they were just as helpful.

On top of that, what was she going to say? She highly doubt that they would believe the naked man on the beach wasn’t human. They would probably just brush it off as the ramblings of a woman who had blown the issue of a nude bather out of proportion.

Instead, Emma went to sleep with her bedroom door locked and her gun underneath her pillow.

When she awoke the next morning, she found neither the windows or locks on the doors had been disturbed. Satisfied, she made her morning hot chocolate and nibbled at a strawberry poptart before deciding to finally retrieve the Vineyard Gazette , which had arrived faithfully at her door everyday despite never applying for a subscription.

She almost screamed when she saw the man from yesterday sitting casually on her front porch, stilled naked save for the pelt that was draped over his lap, and reading her newspaper.

“Staying attuned to happy accidents is a part of art, don’t you agree?” He said, not looking up from the newspaper. “Or at least that’s what the local potter is saying about the newest design on her trade. She calls it ‘the Wave,’ because it’s a deep blue glaze with a white line through. How original. Though, as someone who is more intimately acquainted with the ocean, I can tell you right now that water isn’t truly blue.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you.”

“Why?”

“Because I answered your call.”

“I didn’t call you,” she replied in annoyance, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“Ah, but you did when -”

“My tears went into the ocean. So you said,” she cut him off. “I didn’t mean to call you. I didn’t want anyone in that moment, let alone a naked weirdo.”

“I’ve gathered that,” he muttered, finally looking up from the paper. “I feel I must apologise for yesterday. Normally, I’m better at sorting out which type of company women want. I should have known you’re a lady-loving lass.”

“Wait. What?” Emma stared at him in confusion.

“Yesterday. You were not receptive when I kissed you. I’ve never seen that happen before but there’s a first time for everything.”

“Me not wanting you to kiss me has nothing to do with my sexuality!” She hissed, clenching her fists. “That was me not wanting to be sexually harassed!”

“Sorry,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Normally the women I come across are quite happy to be kissed by me.”

“You must come across some strange women then because most I know don’t like being randomly kissed by a stranger no matter how attractive they are!”

He perked up at this and a sly grin crossed his face. “You think I’m attractive?”

“You entirely missed the point of what I was saying and I’m seriously not afraid to tase you.”

“You keep using that phrase...tase...what exactly does it entail?”

“It entails me shocking you with 50,000 volts of electricity, mate ,” she replied, mocking his accent on the last word.

“That doesn’t sound particularly pleasant.”

“That’s because it isn’t.”

“I going to reaffirm my previous statement and say you’re quite a fearsome lass.”

“And don’t you forget it,” she responded, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Look, I need you to leave, dude, because as wonderful as this conversation is, I would really rather my neighbors not see you and ask uncomfortable questions.”

He raised his eyebrows at her, newspaper crumpling under his tight grip. “Oh, lass, you really think if I was able to go back to the ocean, I would be on your porch right now? If I was capable of that, I would have left last night after you ran away.”

“What?”

“I cannot return to the ocean until you feel some form of happiness,” he said seriously.

“You gotta be kidding me! No way!”

“I’m afraid I’m quite serious. That’s how it’s done. That’s how it’s always been.”

“That’s some Grade-A bullshit!” She protested.

“It’s never been a problem in the past,” he said with a huff.

“Well, it is now. Look, how about this? You leaving? It would bring me tremendous happiness.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” he replied, looking mildly offended.

Emma sighed and rubbed at her temples before looking at her watch. It was nearly seven in the morning and the few people who actually lived in the neighbourhood would be up and about soon. She really needed to get him out of sight.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this…” she said with a shake of her head before opening her door. “But get your ass in here.”

“How hospitable of you,” he remarked sarcastically before tidying up. He grabbed his pelt and slung it against his hips the same way any man would with bath towel, except the pelt was much larger and pooled around his feet.

“Just get inside.”

He obeyed her, following her into the house. She didn’t miss how his curious eyes seemed to drink in the style and makeup of the interior. When he met her gaze, he raised both eyebrows at her in question.

“This is….quite cheery, love.”

“It’s not mine,” she replied shortly. “Listen, have a sit in the kitchen and don’t touch anything. I’m going to into the basement and see if I can find you anything to wear.”

It was a long shot but Emma was hoping that there was at least something he could wear. She didn’t know how much longer she could handle talking to him while he was just in his birthday suit. It was making her uncomfortable and his complete nonchalant attitude towards it wasn’t helping.

She couldn’t help but feel like she was retreating again as she descended down into the half-finished basement of the beach house. The cement floor was uncomfortable underneath her feet but she braved through to peruse through the plastic bins next to the washing machine. It was a little invasive to be going through Ruby’s things like this but Emma reasoned that if she left them behind then she wouldn’t mind too much.

There wasn’t much in the top bins except blankets and table clothes but the bottom one held some promise in the form of old sweats. Much of it looked too small to fit her uninvited guest but she found a tent-sized cat sweater and a large pair of hot pink sweatpants. They looked as if they belonged to a robust-sized grandmother and smelled like mothballs but Emma figured beggars couldn’t be choosers.

When she returned to the kitchen with the clothes, she found the man hunched over her kitchen table and looking over the files she had left there from last night’s research. Her face coloured in annoyance.

“I said not to touch anything.”

“I’m not touching, I’m reading,” he replied airily.

“Same concept. It’s rude to read someone else’s stuff.”

“Sorry, love. Though, if it’s all the same to you, you shouldn’t be leaving things like this out for anyone to read.”

“I wasn’t expecting company,” she snapped, shoving the clothes in his lap. “Look, put these on, okay?”

He raised them up, inspecting them with a look of disgust. She couldn’t help but feel so much satisfaction at his obvious irritation.

“These are ghastly,” he stated, wrinkling his nose.

“They’re temporary. Quit whining and put them on.”

He made a frustrated noise before standing up and unceremoniously dropping the pelt around his waist right in front of her. Emma’s jaw dropped.

“Dude! Seriously!”

He gave her an amused look, lips tugging up into a smirk that made her want to smack him. “I’ve always found it amusing how human beings get so hung up over nudity. Nakedness is natural, clothes are not.”

“Spoken like a true nudist.”

He didn’t reply, merely pulled the cat sweater over his head and down over his torso. Emma knew that it had been large but it practically dwarfed him with the sleeves limply hanging over his hands and the stretched out collar went nearly half way down his torso. She held back a snicker.

“Can I ask you something?” He asked after he had pulled on the sweatpants.

“I’m pretty sure you’re going to anyway.”

“Who was he?”

Her eyebrows furrowed at the question. “Who?”

“The man who broke your heart and abandoned you…”

In her mind’s eye, there was a flash of crinkling brown eyes, dark hair and the sound of rich deep laughter. She turned away from the stranger at her kitchen table under the guise of turning on the kettle.

“Who said it was a man…”

“So, it was a woman then.”

Emma opened the cabinet, pulling out two mugs and placing them down on the counter a little harder than necessary. She emptied Swiss Miss packets into them instead of giving a response to his comment. After filling the mugs with water and half-heartedly mixing them, she returned to the kitchen table and shoved a mug in his direction. He caught her wrist, the sudden stop causing the hot chocolate to slosh over the rim and splash across his front. He didn’t pay it much mind, but rather kept his unnervingly intense focus on her face.

“You’re an orphan.”

“Was I?”

“Not was. Are. You’re something of an open book. You’ve got a look in your eye. The look you get when you’ve been left alone for too long.” He released her hand and tapped his fingers against the police report. “And this. This is you, isn’t it?”

“I’m a private investigator,” she responded.

“It doesn’t make this any less about you,” he said softly, still studying her face with such severity that she had to drop her gaze.

“What are you doing?”

“Waiting for something normal to happen.”

“What’s normal about this?”

“Normal would be you kissing me, love.”

“You’re going to be waiting for a long time then.” She snorted, placing his hot chocolate in front of him and putting some distance between them by sitting in the adjacent seat. She clenched her mug with both hands like it was a lifeline.

“Human women, especially women attracted to men, normally aren’t so resistant to selkie charm. You’re unique.”

“Or maybe you’re not as charming as you think are,” Emma shot back.

“I don’t think you quite understand…” he said with shake of his head, drumming his fingers against the table in agitation. “We aren’t like your human blokes. We, as a species, have a...it’s sort of a hypnotic charm, if you will...to make women more receptive to us...it sort of a preservation technique…”

“Sounds more date rape-y to me,” she replied, narrowing her eyes at him.

He jolted at the accusation. “We never take what isn’t freely given.”

“You say that but you’re basically “dazzling” them into sleeping with you. How is that not sketchy?”

He ran his fingers through his hair, looking distraught by the very thought. Emma watched him warily, wondering if leaving her gun upstairs was a bad idea. He let out a huff, pushing his mug away.

“I..I see your point...but rest assured that was never my intention...you’re immune to the “dazzling” as you say, so you need not worry about that and you need not worry about me placing an unwanted hand on you.”

“Oh, I’m not worry,” she responded with a snort. “If you did, I would tase your ass so fast that I would be serving fried seal at my next barbecue.”

“You’re quite fond of that threat.”

“It’s very entertaining to see a scumbag get shocked with 50,000 volts.”

“I will take your word for it.”

Silence fell between them and they sat, drinking hot chocolate and studying each other. Since the moment she met him, Emma had avoided looking at him. However, now that she had the chance to, she could slightly see why the women he spoke of weren’t so quick to kick him out of bed. Even while wearing stained grandma sweater and hot pink pants, he was attractive; messy dark hair falling over startling blue eyes, feminine lashes and a strong but sharp jawline. He looked lost though, a fish out of water in this situation just like her.

“What would make you happy, love?”

“Emma.”

“Pardon?”

“My name is not love, it’s Emma,” she said, looking back down at her mug. “I would prefer you to call me by name rather than love or sweetheart or any annoying pet name you could come up with.”

“Alright, Emma,” he affirmed with a nod. “I’m Killian.”

“Killian,” she repeated, testing it out. “It’s...unique.”

“It’s a name,” he shrugged. “But, really, Emma, what would make you happy? Because it’s obviously not sex. You’ve made that quite clear.”

She snorted at his bluntness. “I know you’re a seal but I’ve gotta tell you, sex rarely ends in happiness as far as I’m concerned. It leads to disaster.”

“I’m sorry you think so.”

“I don’t think so. I know so. It can be great, don’t get me wrong, but once that high is gone, you’re back to square one. It doesn’t solve anything. If anything, you find out he’s married and his wife’s on her way back early and it’s just messy.”

“We’re getting off topic,” he said, looking uncomfortable and fidgeting slightly. “What would make Emma happy?”

She pulled the police report out from underneath his elbow, staring at the callous words scribbled messily across the page.

“The truth,” she said, meeting his eyes. “The truth would make me happy.”

“What truth do you seek?”

“I want to know who they are and why they left me. I want to look them in the eye and make them remember me, to remind them that I was a person, not something that could just be left behind.”

“Okay. How do we do that?”

“We?” she looked at him in surprise. “When did this become a we?”

“When you called me, Emma. Haven’t you been paying attention? I can’t go back until you’re happy and if that means finding your parents then it means finding your parents.”

“And how the hell is a fricking seal going to help me?”

He smiled at her and it was a smile that was so blinding that she wondered for a moment if he had succeeded in finally dazzling her.

“Oh, love, I think you’ll find that I have an honest knack for reading and research.”

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