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forbidding-souda · 4 years ago

Note

for the kiss thing: what about 5 with souda, 19 with gundham & 33 with komaeda? gender neutral or female reader is preferred! tysm!

5: “Throwing their arms around the other person’s neck, hugging them close before kissing them passionately on the lips” Kazuichi Souda (fem reader)

x 19: “One person stopping a kiss to ask “Do you want to do this?”, only to have the other person answer with a deeper, more passionate kiss” Gundham Tanaka (fem reader)

x 33: “An unexpected kiss that shocks the one receiving it” Nagito Komaeda

I literally like felt butterflies in my stomach thinking about the Gundham one hhhhh anon you are <333333 for that.

THE GUNDHAM ONE BAHAHA I WENT TOO HAM LMAOO WHO LETTT MEE XX THE GUNDHAM ONE IS AAA A BIT UHHH NSFW KINDA NOT REALLY BUT KINDA

-Mod Souda

Kazuichi Souda

You wait impatiently, filing your nails to spend the time.

People around you stand with their briefcases in hand, waiting to return from their job. But that’s not what you care about. Not any of these normal, average people. The person you are waiting for is extraordinary. And he’s going to get off of that train.

Even though he got accepted into the best school in Japan, and you didn’t, there were no hard feelings.

Because you aren’t anything like these briefcase carrying average people.

You are the girlfriend of the SHSL Mechanic!

Now, you stare down at your nails, done perfectly and painted pink and yellows.

He’s coming home, finally, for spring break.

Every night he has facetimed you, telling you about his time, telling you about all of his friends and the fun times they have together.

You wonder if he misses you the same way you miss him.

In the distance you can see a train, white and smooth with the green front, and flashing characters for a name.

Ah!

Your heart leaps and you fight the urge to jump up.

Is he wearing the school uniform? His work jumper?

Does he have the patches you gave him? Oh, what a wonder!

You wonder if he still has that silly beanie he wears to hide his roots.

Calmly, even though you are about to explode, you stand up, leaning weight onto one of your legs before wrapping your arms around yourself.

You can hardly contain you breath, either, having to open your mouth to get more air.

He’s really going to be here!

The train stops, coming to a slow halt.

When the doors open, you can hardly believe it! He moves his way out, twisting through the crowd.

His beanie, his jumper, it’s all there! It really is Kazuichi!

You take a big step towards him.

For the last few months you have been waiting for this, hoping that he would return back to you. And now here he is.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, your lips meet before your bodies do. The drawback has him stumbling but he gains his composure, holding onto your waist, keeping you pressed against him.

He pulls back, letting your feet touch the ground, before diving back in for another kiss.

Nothing in the world can bother you anymore.

His arms feel like safety, holding you warmly.

Gundham Tanaka

“Be more productive.”

“Productive?” He scoffs. “I do not have time for such foolish things like that.”

You just shake your head, continuing to jot down notes onto your pad.

He sits at your desk, spending his time on your computer researching whatever it is the SHSL animal breeder researches.

And here, on your bed, is all of the work he should be doing.

“There are no cons to being productive,” you mutter.

In the swivel chair he turns, just barely, to glance at you from over his shoulder.

“My temper when it comes to mandatory tasks is rather faulty.”

“And it’s going to get worse if you don’t do it, Tanaka.”

Another scoff leaves his mouth as he turns back around. “Calling me by my given name. Touché.”

“What if I said I just want you to sit next to me?”

“Ah!” He laughs. “I will not be fooled by such tricks.”

“So you don’t want to be next to me?”

Damn you, woman! Pulling at his heart strings! Your logic has no flaws.

He gets up, his frame broad and confident, before making his way towards you. “Maiden of the night and the winner of debates.”

He plants himself next to you while you lean your back against the headboard.

“Taker of hearts,” you say. The proximity of you two thins, ever so slightly, on your behalf.

“Taker of a heart.” He matches your movements.

One of his hands reaches up, stroking your hair, the touch giving you permission to feel his poisonous skin.

You kiss him, and he draws you close, his hand making a fist.

Your hands pull up his shirt, sliding your hands underneath his layers to run your fingers up and down his body.

The touch makes him shiver, a small whimper coming out of his mouth.

So you pull back. Both of your noses touch, just barely, and he hovers over your face.

You whisper, “are you sure you want to do this?”

His beady eyes roll. And he answers with actions rather than words.

Pushing you backwards, up against the headboard, and raises your thighs up so they rub against his waist.

His knuckles turn white from gripping onto the bed, his hands gripping the wood, locking you in place.

You’re squished.

Every inch of your torso is pressed up against something, and you can feel him between your legs.

Then, he attacks your mouth again, slipping his tongue in and out of your mouth, forcing you to make the cutest noises.

Nagito Komaeda

After your stroll around the new island, you cross the bridge back to the cabins.

Nothing new was found, no more clues to why you were here.

You still search everyday.

What if you miss something?

So you make it your job to be the investigator to get everyone off this island!

“Still walking around, I see?”

The love interest, as you coined him. He lets you hold him when you’re scared, and he runs his fingers through your hair to calm you.

Now the two of you are on flirting basis.

“Are you feeding off of my hope?” You tease, walking up to him. His white hair is brushed, from this morning when you snuck into his cabin. He doesn’t look as tired as he usually does.

He joins you on your walk, which you don’t mind about.

“Are you making fun of me? How unfortunate...” He replies with his usual breathy tone, casting his gaze down to the floor.

“Oh, Nagito, you know I like you too much to do that.”

Quickly, you place a kiss to his cheek.

He stops walking, his hand going to the area.

The shock on his face almost scares you. Did you do something wrong?

Is he surprised at your words or your actions?

“What? It’s not like--”

You stumble back, but hands catch you, pulling you close.

He kissed you, and rough, holding you to him like it was his life’s purpose.

And knowing him, it probably is.

But he’s... actually kissing you?

Soon enough it ends. And he pulls back, embarrassed at himself, returning to the walk like nothing happened.

“You kissed me.” You gawk.

“Sorry I put you through that. It’s a shame you had to kiss someone like me.”

Truly, you never thought he could make you so flustered. You can hardly walk, cheeks heated and heart beating.

“Wh-Why did you?”

He turns to you, an innocent smile on his face. “You said you liked me, and I like you too. Simple, right?”

“Right...” you agree with a chuckle. Unbelievable. Hajime was right, he absolutely unpredictable. “Right.”

#danganronpa #danganronpa imagines #kazuichi souda #kazuichi soda #kazuichi souda x reader #kazuichi soda x reader #gundham tanaka x reader #gundham tanaka #nagito komaeda #nagito komaeda x reader

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shozaii · 4 years ago

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Mitra Mitra Mitra!!! I love you my precious child! Can I request aku x reader for looking after them when they're sick! You get to choose gender and whether it's headcanons or a scenario! Much love <3333

(a/n): cami cami cami!! i love you soooo much more mother!!🥺🥺🥺❤❤❤ i decided to go with a lil bit of both since you deserve this treat UwU💖 enjoyyyy!!! and i apologize for taking so long hhh😭

masterlist.

♗ akutagawa is pretty much the kind of person who would not understand what exactly is going on. he’s already caught up with his coughing and such, but when he sees you falling sick, his emotions are mixed up. ranging from, “did i infect them?” or “i thought they were strong.”

♗ he possibly found out after returning to your shared apartment, and suddenly he sees you wiping your nose with some tissues........definitely not ten more already being in the trash. aku panic mode? aku panic mode.

♗ he panics. the first thing he does is run up to you because he thought someone used their ability on you, making you go all weak and tired. i’d like to believe he would grab hold of your face and hands very softly, worried that he might be too rough🥺 literally i can imagine his first question would be “who hurt you?”

♗ he brushes your fallen hair strands away from your already heating up face. straight up paces back and forth when he finds you coughing too. walks up to you, and tells you to open your mouth.

♗ “why...?”

♗ “.....to check if you have blood, duh. you’ve been coughing non-stop.”

♗ he’s very, very worried. no doubt. he wouldn’t want anything to happen to you, moreover getting what he already has.

♗ there are times where he would give you baths— very rare tbh. most of the time it’s only you because he thoroughly enjoys the way you handle his body with care. i would say he learns little by little; and proceeds to use whatever he learnt on you.

♗ to which a huGE idea pops up in his head. he reminisces the times you have cared for him. anything that would make him cough less. always, always reminding him to take his necessary medication (he only got them after you came into his life. he does noT take crap from anyone but you). giving him warm bubble baths, as you massaged his back. trips to the onsen; chuuya helps you with that, though it could be a pain even if it’s just to bring him there. telling him to drink water is his throat gets dry. once he had a fever, so you placed a cold towel on his forehead. he wouldn’t admit it; but he was so, so happy he got to lay in bed, especially with you by his side.

♗ so yes. this time, for sure. he will do absolutely anything to make you feel better.

ˏ 𓏧 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓋒 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓏧 ˎ ˏ 𓏧 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓋒 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓏧 ˎ

he takes in a deep breath, grabs hold of both your shoulders, and looks right into your eyes. “l-.....let’s go get you a bath. under one condition.” still holding you, he looked down onto the floor - to which you could already tell he was blushing like crazy. your only response was a sniffle, with a soft “what?”, chuckling.

“just.....just let me know if i do hurt you, okay? i wouldn’t say i could execute it efficiently. i try.” your puzzled look turned into a softer, more calmer phase as you cupped his face with your hands. “you’re always doing amazing, ryuu. trust me. though i don’t want you to get sick—,”

“nonsense. the sickness is afraid of me,” he said, maintaining his sharp, stoic look.

sighing, you had to oblige. ryuu was a person tough to convince. but whatever he’s doing was definitely worth more than every treasure standing on mother earth. he made sure you got into the tub; not before putting his hand in to check the temperature. once you got in, he kneeled down and pulled his sleeves up.

what made your heart go all soft was that he did not complain one bit. no grumbling, not a furrowed expression to be seen. just a soft, concerned look in his face - with his hands trembling every once in a while.

“aku....? is everything alright?” you questioned, holding his hand.

“d-don’t worry about me. like i said, i don’t want you getting hurt.”

“and i would never get hurt by my love. i can tell, darling.”

his cheekbones was painted with a soft shade of pink, as he looked away from you, continuing the relaxing massage on your back. it was so good, all you could feel right now was that you were floating.

you felt your muscles relax even more, with your shoulders decrease in tension, your chest slowly unwinding from the tight knots it was once in. your body still had those uncomfortable pains, but just something from his presence began to take most of them away. you couldn’t help but smile at how good he was getting, and how capable he was when taking care of someone he cares for.

his sister came up to your mind; something that made you a lot more happier.

ˏ 𓏧 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓋒 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓏧 ˎ ˏ 𓏧 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓋒 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓏧 ˎ

♗ he knows you have a thing for his clothes, but half of the time he doesn’t want you to put them on. not because he hates it, but rather because he gets so flustered he would not and cannot function. try asking him for his clothes when you’re not doing well. he. would. never. hesitate.

♗ “do you need anything? what else am i supposed to do?”

♗ he is quite the picky eater and you do encourage him to eat a lot. so imagine him taking care of you. he gets advice from gin if he ever does need help with the types of food he should be giving you. otherwise that it’s just observation from what you have given him.

♗ he’s just vv nervous!!! doesn’t want you getting hurt; he wouldn’t forgive himself for doing so hhhhh ;-; other than that it’s just aku being aku, the cutie patootie he is ehehe !

♗ cuddles for you and you only. periodt.

♗ will even go as far as to wrap you up in a blanket, and then providing extra warmth by holding you close. he has this smug expression whenever he teases you, so consider seeing this during the cuddle session UwU!!

♗ “i’m going to try something.” and he plants kisses on your cheeks, your nose, forehead, bare shoulders. he doesn’t show it, but he’s very attentive of your sensitive parts. he needs to see you smile because he knows falling sick is tough. painful and full of sorrow. so when you start giggling, he gives off this smile.

♗ “ryuu,,, thank you,” you buried yourself deeper into his embrace, sleep finally taking over.

(a/n): omgomg finally!!! i got this done kjskdjshjdbj!!! camiiiii i really hope you enjoy this grrrhrhrrh🥺i honestly have no idea how exactly it turned out but right now i’m hoping that you enjoy this hhhh :’))))

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moonmeg · 4 years ago

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any digital art tips???

I'll try... hopefully this might be helpful! <3

Experiment!

Experiment not only with art styles, colors and brushes but also with different drawing programs! There's quite a lot accessible art programs that are free and do not require any payment like Photoshop, Procreate or ClipStudio Paint do, which is not to say that you can not use them. If you can, do that! (Although Adobe seems to be a prick atm with the prizes so think about whether or not you want to have that stress)

Free programs you can check out are:

-ibisPaintX

-Krita

-FireAlpaca

-MediBang Paint

-Autodesk Sketchbook

Just to name a few! There's a lot more drawing softwares than the ones I named but those are the ones I used at one point (except for Krita). Currently I'm very happy with MediBang Paint. What software suits you best is up to you of course, which is why I'd recommend you try out some and stick to your fave!

Also note that the software you use barely has an impact on how well you draw. People can even create amazing artworks with Microsoft Paint! It's not the program or software that makes the art, it's the artist and their skills.

Still, you should feel comfortable with your drawing software!

Equipment

You should also be comfortable with your equipment. Do you want to draw on a drawing pad connected to your laptop or PC? A tablet (with a pen) like an iPad (note that there's many other brands that produce tablets in good quality you do not necessarily require an iPad and Apple pen)? Or are you alright with your phone and fingers?

Artist equipment, no matter digital or traditional, is very expensive (I know that-) which is why you shouldn't be upset when someone draws with "better"/"more professional" equipment than you. Not everybody has the money to afford those expensive pads and tablets and not everybody has the room for a whole PC. This is totally fine. Because here too: of course equipment can be helpful in making it easier for you to draw and maybe even help improve your art but in the end the artist and their skills make the art. Not the equipment or software.

You can create amazing works with only your phone and fingers. No necessity for a whole tablet for example! Do not let anybody pull yourself down because of the equipment you use/have!

When I started digital art I also only had my (compared to my phone today) tiny Samsung, ibisPaintX or Autodesk Sketchbook and my fingers. Here's some examples if what that looked like:

Then someday I switched to a drawing pad and stayed with that equipment for years before getting a tablet for Christmas last year.

Drawing pad - beginning

Drawing pad - middle

Drawing pad - end

And everything post Christmas last year is made with my tablet. (Not trying to say my art was amazing then or is it now hhhhh)

Blending modes

Digital art gives artists the opportunity to use options their traditional counterparts don't have: blending modes aka. "multiply", "add", "overlay", "darken", "screen", "soft light", hard light", "color", "hue", "brightness" etc.

It's those options that can make your artwork go from

I recommend you experiment with those too! They should be found under "blending mode".

[P.S. you can use multiple blending mode layers over each other]

Use references! Use your features!

Finding references for all kinds of things is something every artist would recommend. It is done with a quickly with a Google (or any search machine of your choice) search or some scrolling through pinterest. Digital devices allow you to download or screenshot the pictures and insert them onto your canvas! With the invisible layer feature you can easily make the reference disappear and appear again as you like.

You can also sketch your motif on paper with pencil all traditional, take a photo of it and insert it onto your canvas/ make it your sketch. That way you even include both traditional and digital art! Quite some artists do that. Of course, it is up to you whether or not you want to follow this process.

What I'm trying to say with this section is: use the features and advantages you have with digital art!

Just have fun.

Art is a constant learning process. You develop and improve your skills over the time. And maybe now you're still insecure and unsure but one day you'll just know what to do and how. You'll get the hang of it! You're doing art for YOU and for YOURSELF most of the time (gifts or commissions for someone else not included). Have fun! Don't pressure yourself!

-Meg <3

#ask answered #idk how to give tips #i tried okay 😭

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thicctails · 4 years ago

Text

Summer of Whump Day 10 [Camping/Trapped]

Hhhhh I am so behIND SCHEDULE

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

Omega shifted on her pile of blankets, trying to get comfortable. Pillow’s quiet snores were all she heard as she stared tiredly into the darkness. Her salamander friend hadn’t stopped growing, and he was beginning to take up quite a bit of space. He was more of a “Bed” than a Pillow at this point. His large tail swung around as he dreamed, the appendage catching her in the side. She let out a quiet cough, pushing the heavy tail off of herself. Enough was enough. She obviously wasn’t going to be getting any sleep like this.

Grabbing her favourite datapad, she jumped down onto the floor, not worrying about the slight noise that came as a result. Almost everyone was out gathering needed supplies, leaving Wrecker as her sole guardian for the night. Wrecker was, as usual, trying to sleep off his headache. Omega wandered throughout the ship, eventually deciding to curl up in the pilot’s seat to read. The seat dwarfed her, and it still amazed her that, someday, it wouldn’t seem so big.

The datapad’s gentle glow was soothing, but the story it held wasn’t all that long. It was a children’s story about a little Porg that was different from his other siblings. She loved this story, because at the end the little Porg found a family that loved him, even if he looked different. After she’d reread it a few times, Omega set the datapad down and stared out of the windshield. The night brought a sense of calm to the planet they had been staying on for the past week, and as much as she loved the energetic hustle and bustle of the marketplace during the day, a break was always nice.

Her eyes widened as she spotted something that she’d never seen before. A blink of light appeared before her, just outside the protection of the windshield. They glowed for a moment, then faded, then appeared again. Omega sits there, watching the lights in wonderment. Then, one lands on the glass, and she sees that it’s a bug that’s glowing.

“Whoa.” Omega breathes.

She wants to see the fascinating bugs up close, so she opened the Havoc Marauder’s door and steps out into the warm night air. She walked around to the front of the ship, staring in delight as the blinking insects flit around her. One lands on Omega’s nose, blinking every few seconds.

The young girl giggled, the light shining in her large brown eyes. The insect slowly lifted off, its tiny wings buzzing slightly. Omega followed after it, wanting to see where the little bug was going.

The glowing animal led her beyond the ship, and more and more bugs joined them as they neared an open field. Nocturnal flowers bloomed under the combined glow of three moons, and unseen animals chirped in the trees. Omega ran her hand along the tall, soft grass, feeling the dew that had formed. A frog jumped out of the grass, its bulbous throat expanding as it croaked. Omega, who had only ever seen the animal in datapads, crouched down and stared in awe at the smooth amphibian. The frog croaked again, hopping into the grass again. She followed it, hopping as it had. She giggled as she jumped up and down, her head popping up above the grass every few seconds.

Suddenly, her foot slipped, and Omega yelped as she began to tumble downwards. Rocks and roots scratched up her skin, and to top it all off, she hit something hard once she reached the bottom of whatever ditch she’d fallen into. Coughing, she rolled onto her side, wincing when she felt her shoulder scream in protest. Biting her lip, she used her legs to maneuver herself into a sitting position. Now that she was no longer face down in the dirt, she blinked, taking in her surroundings. Within seconds, she spotted something white laying in the dirt. Confused, she peered at it, leaning forward. It looked like…

She gasped, scrambling back.

That was clone trooper armor.

Panicked, she pressed herself against the side of the ditch. She tried to get to her feet, but a sharp pain in her lower back had her sliding back down. Her breaths came in shallow pants as she curled up into a ball, hoping beyond hope that her lack of movement might save her life.

A long, tense moment passed, but the clone trooper showed no sign of movement. Afraid, but curious now, Omega crept forward, her body shivering in pain as she moved. Now that she was closer, she could see that, like the armor of the Bad Batch, there were stripes of colour on this clone’s armor. Lines of blue decorated the scuffed white suit, and she found herself reaching out to touch them. The paint was chipped in some areas, and she could feel scratches in the armor. Whoever this was, they’d been around for a while.

She paused for a moment, trying to sense with the Force what exactly she was dealing with here. No buzz of danger had appeared, and she actually felt a pleasant, warm feeling in her chest. This person, it seemed, was not unknown to the Force, and it seemed to like him. Deciding to take the risk, she used her good arm to remove the clone’s helmet. She needed to find out why he had collapsed here, and to check if he was even alive. Breathing could be hard to see under plastoid.

She was surprised to see that the man’s hair was blonde like hers, and she wondered what gene had been modified in the two of them to give them both the unique hair colour. Placing the helmet aside with care, she saw a small prick of dried blood on the clone’s neck. Had he been shot with something?

Omega pressed two fingers to the man’s throat, holding her breath as she waited. There was a good chance that she was touching a corpse right now, and that idea didn’t sit right with her.

Lub dub… lub dub…

Oh good. Not touching a corpse.

Exhaling in relief, Omega sat back down, hissing as the pain in her lower back started up again. As much as she liked the high level of movement her normal clothes gave her, perhaps she should start looking into ways of making herself a suit of armor. With all the trouble she got into, it might be worth the effort.

The nighttime animals sung all around her, and despite her less than awesome situation, she smiled. She wasn’t alone, and she wasn’t in total silence, two things she was very grateful for, even if her company was a stranger who could, at any given time, wake up and decide to kill her.

Actually, maybe she should take his blaster.

Just as she started to reach over, a sound made her freeze. Something had just stepped on a stick.

Moving into a crouch, Omega peered upwards towards the ditch’s ridge. The tall grass swayed, obscuring her sight. She kept staring, sure that she had heard something. However, when nothing appeared, she looked away, easing herself back down into a sitting position, rubbing at her sore shoulder. Distracted by her pain, she failed to notice the growing buzz at the back of her mind. Until, of course, it became a screaming alarm bell that was yelling “LOOK OUT, MORON!”

Omega’s head snapped up as a snarl shattered the night’s calm existence. She flinched back as a lithe figure leapt down into the ditch. It looked like a long Loth Cat, bigger in size and sporting a thin, spine-covered tail. The animal stared at Omega, it’s large, silver eyes making her tense up in fear. It considered her for a moment, then turned towards the downed clone. It opened its mouth, saliva dripping down its fangs.

“Oh no you don’t. You’re not eating him!” Omega yelled, grabbing a nearby rock and throwing it at the cat. The feline hissed, jumping back. It growled at Omega, its tail flicking back and forth.

The command to get back passed through her head, and she listened to the instinct. Her body made its displeasure known as she threw herself away from the animal, landing on her back as a spray of quills embedded themselves into the dirt. The pain stunned her for only a moment, but it was for longer than she could afford. A weight appeared on her chest, pressing down on her collarbone. Curved claws pricked her skin, causing beads of blood to seep into her shirt.

Omega yelped, trying to kick the cat off with her good leg, but the animal simply scratched the limb with a hind paw, slicing the skin of her knee open. Tears pricked at her eyes as adrenaline kicked in, her body going into panic mode. Her brain shoved the memory of one of Hunter’s lessons into her immediate thoughts, and she swung her fist up towards the cat’s face, trying to catch it in the eye. She managed to land a hit, and the animal screeched in pain. Its head jerked back, and she punched it again, this time in the throat.

The large feline fell back, allowing a bleeding Omega to put some distance in between them. Her body shook as she tried to figure out what to do. She didn’t have much time; the animal was already rolling back onto its paws. She reached out, trying to connect with the Force. If she really did have a connection with it, than she should be able to do something!

A feeling of strength and power rippled through Omega suddenly, settling in the palms of her hands. It felt as though she could grab anything within a few feet of her, although she wasn’t quite sure how. However, she didn’t have a chance to try, as the cat was now coming at her again, claws unsheathed and fangs bared. Terrified and out of options, she focused on the cat, closed her eyes, and swung her hand to the side as hard as she could.

The animal yowled in shock, flying into the wall of the ditch. Stunned, and now feeling tired, Omega stared at the animal, her eyes wide. She… she had done it! She’d used the Force!

The cat shook its head, whipping around to snarl at Omega. The girl’s excitement disappeared. Apparently, she hadn’t used it well enough to dissuade the predator. Omega shrunk back, too hurt and tired and scared to think of another plan. The feline dropped down, its eyes locking onto her as it pounced forward, jaws open wide. Omega shut her eyes and covered her face with the arm she could still use, awaiting the attack.

…

But it never came.

Instead, the sound of a blaster being fired made her open her eyes and lower her arm. The cat was on its side, unmoving but still breathing. She looked to her left, and there was the clone, holstering his blaster. She felt relief wash over her when, upon noticing her, the man didn’t move to shoot her too.

“Are you alright, little ‘un?” His voice sounded groggy, like he’d just woken up from a nap.

Omega nodded, not sure she could do much else.

The clone stared at her, his head tilting slightly. He blinked, like he wasn’t sure if he was seeing things right.

“I’ve seen a lot of clones in my lifetime, but never one that looked like you.” He smiled at her, before looking around cautiously. “Where did you come from? Are you runnin’ from the Empire too?”

“I-I am, but we’re not in any danger right now!” She said, stuttering a bit. Her pounding heart was making speech difficult. “I’m here with my family.”

“Family?” The man asked.

Omega’s cheeks turned a bit pink in embarrassment. “S-sorry! I meant my squad, not family...” She trailed off a bit at the end. Were they a family? Echo, Hunter, Wrecker, and Tech were all brothers, but she was something different, a clone that was even more different than they were. What was she to them?

“Your squad? What’s your squad number?” The other clone, who was getting to his feet, offered her a hand as he stood. She took it, not minding when he supported her with a second hand when her legs wobbled. The adrenaline was beginning to wear off, and she was starting to feel exhaustion seep into her muscles.

“Omega! Omega, where are you?!”

Omega looked up, a smile coming onto her face.

“Wrecker!” She yelled back.

“Wrecker? Wait…” The other clone seemed to come to a realization just as Wrecker appeared at the edge of the ditch. The enhanced clone tensed at the sight of someone holding Omega, before he realized who exactly he was looking at.

“Rex!” He cried, his face lighting up.

Omega felt Rex laugh, and she turned to look at him. The blonde was smiling and shaking his head.

“Of course.” He said, looking at Wrecker with a grin. “Of course it’s you crazy bastards.”

“You know him?” Omega asked, not really sure who she was directing the question to.

“Oh, for sure! Rex is an old friend of ours!” Wrecker said. “Now get up here so I can hug ‘ya!”

“I would, but this little one is hurt. I doubt she can climb out on her own.” Rex said, letting Omega lean on him. Side by side, they almost looked like they were a father and daughter.

“Oh kriff!” Wrecker cursed, just now noticing the bruises and cuts. “Hunter’s gonna kill me- what happened?!”

“A cat tried to eat Rex, but I distracted it.” Omega said, finding it hard to stay upright. “Then it tried to eat me.”

“While I’m not glad you got hurt, I must thank you for keeping that thing off me. You’re a very brave and very strong girl, Omega. Those Quill Prowlers are quite scary. I’m surprised you didn’t get hi-!” Rex cut himself off, looking down at Omega’s boots. “Oh dear.”

“What?” Omega and Wrecker asked at the same time. Omega looked down.

There was a quill sticking out of her boot.

“Oh.” She said, before promptly passing out.

#the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #star wars #omega whump #omega bad batch #wrecker bad batch #captain rex #rex clone wars #tw animal harm #summerofwhump #summerofwhump[10]

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c-atm · 4 years ago

Text

Fighting Flirty: Bonus Match pt4

'Why didn't anyone tell me that submission was so deliciously sweet?'

This was the thought of one Connie Maheswaran as her hands clenched the fabric underneath her. Biting her lips as the strokes of Steven’s brush graced her skin with the flavorful paint, breathing in the aroma of blackberries as her stomach flexed in reactionary response. The sound of his deep chuckles didn’t help either, or rather.

It made her more receptive to his movements.

“You’re so cute, Heartberry.” Steven's voice teased her auditory senses with its playfully sensual tone.”The way your muscles twitch ever so slightly by my movements.” His brush slid under her breast from one side to the other, leaving a curved line on her deep chestnut skin.

“The sound of your surprising gasp.” Steven chuckled as he dipped his brush in again before decorating her skin, this time along the left side of her trunk, stopping at her panty-line, getting a gentle giggling sigh from the woman.

Her hands flexed slightly, a reflexive movement of pleasure. A slight squirming of her waist at the chilling slide crossed her body a few inches below her navel to the right side.

”What...Hhm~mm... Are you drawing?” Connie sighed, feeling the brush leave her body, only to inhale when it made contact again, the bristles making their way tickling up her right side.

“I’m not sure yet.” He admitted, “Right now, I’m just enjoying watching you move under me.”

“Someone as…” Connie was interrupted by her giggles when she felt his brush start to poke around her tone stomach, gingerly; the smell of lemons in her nose.

“Tickles, Wifey?” he grinned as she licked her lips, enjoyment on her nodding face.

“Yeeaa~ah.”She moaned gently.

“You seem quite sensitive, Heartberry.” Steven poked her again, dotting her with a yellow splat.

��Well, I can’t see Mister.” Connie licked her teeth under her upper lip as he dotted her more and more, getting involuntary flexes from her torso. “All I can see is pink...Your wonderful, unique pink.”

“Well, someone’s quite the complimentary woman.”

Connie blushed at his flirty utterance,' You certainly make it easy.' Connie's thoughts were kept to herself as she whimpered under the relaxed feel of the paint.

"It's true, though…" Connie sucked in a breath as she felt let another of his strokes in her stomach, "don't like pink all that much, but I love yours."

"You love my pink, huh?" He teased, dipping his thumb into the pink strawberry paint and decorating her lips pink before kissing her deeply, placing her lips between his.

She shivered gingerly at the feel of his suckling on her lip and his tongue massaging her gums as he continued to mark her with his brush.

"Hmm~mm!" Her back arched, her wrist strained against her bonds, and her lips pressed against his own, heightening the kiss—her hunger and neediness on full display. She whimpered slightly at the feel of the air as they separated with a -CHU!-, her lips still parted with the slightest tremble.

"Whoo.." Steven sighed with gentle carnality by her ear, "Someone feeling affectionate."

"Your fault." She sighed out a mewl as watermelon began to slide along the curves of her hips, and coconut traced the upper and outer of her thighs, marking the alluring muscles with a form of loving care and meticulous sensuality.

"Oh, is it now?" He bit on her neck, gently evoking a purr from her lips as she leaned her head to the right, allowing for more access. Steven chuckled darkly and hungrily, watching her nod her head.

"Can you tell me what you're draw-ah!" She wiggled as if trying to avoid his brush on the side of her legs, heading down to her ankle and back up again on the other leg.

"What was that, Jump-berry?"

"Hmmph!" She pouted slightly at his teasing voice.

"You're so lucky; I'm bound right now." Connie teased in jest as she bit her lip. "Can you tell me what you are drawing?"

"Can't tell?"

"I thought I knew until you kissed me as you painted me." She grinned impishly, Didn't know what was more...Erratic...Your icy brushes, making a mess of my skin or your hot mouth, assaulting my own."

"Oh, I say the kiss." He gave her a gentle teasing brush upon her lips with his own, urging her to rise after his, just missing as he got more paint. "Seeing how hungry you are for them." He chuckled, looking as she bit the corner of her lips.

"Then you should feed me." Her tone laced with eros and adulation, "You know you want to," she teased, snuggling her crown gently onto his lap. "I can FEEL it."

"You can feel it, huh. "He stroked her neck and shoulder with orange and lemon.

"Part of the reason why I wanted you In sweats." Connie laughed teasingly before the scent of kiwi hit her nose, feeling the brush strokes across her chest(above her bust), skipping the center as they continued from shoulder to shoulder.

"Hey, open your legs for me."

Connie giggled with a bit of maroon on her cheeks, "That's a bold request, thought you would want to lick me clean before you make me scream."

She heard him kiss his teeth and breath deeply from his nose.

"Oh, I can already see you blushing over my words, that pretty pink of bashfulness." She giggled, even more, feeling him nip the tip of her nose.

"Maybe," he admitted, evoking a victorious laugh from his living art, "You gonna listen to my request?"

"Hmm?" She pecked him gently on his lips. "Hhhhhhmm~mmm?" She kissed him again, this time with more carnal intentions, nibbling in his upper lips, teasingly chuckling as she felt his palms rub her own.

"Is-" He breathed out after breaking the kiss with a -Chu!-.

"Heh~heh~heh...Minx got your tongue?"

"Oh, you're just..." He shook his head before pecking her again. "So can I take your kisses as a yes to my request?"

She shook her head, smirking behind the visor.

"Hey, I thought you were my canvas?"

"Oh, I am, but when does a canvas move?"

"When my canvas -Chu!- is also -Chu!- my muse. -Chu!-"

"I...O~Oh, Really?"

Steven smiled at that emotional tone in her voice, thumbing her bottom lip as he gazed at her, "Of course, you are a work of art already. I even made some music thinking of you...Of us."

"Play some for me?"

The way she asked, so generally and hopeful, warmed his heart. "Tomorrow, I'll have one of the gems bring over my guitar. Serenade you while I compliment you to hell." He chuckled, seeing her pout playfully.

"You just wanna see me blush like-"

"A beautiful strawberry!"

His laughter made her cheeks darken with heat and warned her heart all the same.

Now, my bratty background, open your legs so I can get into your inner thighs." It took him a moment to realize how that sounded, and his face glowed in embarrassment.

"I can feel you pii~ink." Connie laughed, "It's so hot; your words must really have embarrassed you. Silly, truly," her voice became unconcerned and salacious, "since you were in between them twice earlier."

"Ah, well. That is.."

"Hey… Thank you for always being a respectable gentleman… I would boop your snoot, but I'm your captured canvas."

"Always, Heartberry." Steven clicked his tongue before sharing another kiss with her, "I love you, Wifey."

"Love you too, Hubby."

They sat in silence before both broke into burning cheeky giggles

"It's things like that that make people think we're together." They both said in tandem, only to laugh more and share yet another kiss.

"So about my request? You're gonna open so that I can paint those well-trained thighs."

"Hmmm...Nope." She nearly witch cackle at the very light 'hmph,' that came from her Mister. "Now, now. That isn't to say you can't paint my inner thighs." She bit her lip, "just that I'm not going to just let you in so easily, gotta give me a reason."

"A reason, hmm?"

Connie gulped as her toes curled to his teasingly suggestive voice and the feel of his slightly soft lips, brushing her ear as his sweet breath tickled her inner ear canal.

"Y-Yeah, if you can." She purred, trying to keep her rebellious persona a bit longer, which was harder to do once he started to kiss behind her neck, and dye the middle of her throat in Carmel, stroking downward toward her chest and lower.

'That being said, this experience is something I didn't expect, or at least I didn't expect to respond the way I am, currently. Must be the bit of 'diamond essence' in the paints.

Even still, the feel of his bristles igniting my skin, my senses, bringing about small chilling shocks through my nerves. Compounded with the blindness, the restrictions, the variety of sweet aromas, and the heat.

His warming, loving heat of his body, currently holding my head upon this lap and gently brushes again at me as Steven dresses me in his colors, his creativity… His passion.'

"Hhhhh~Mmmist~Hah!" Connie released a breath she didn't know she was holding as his fangs sunk deeper into her collarbone, hitting 'that spot' that she or any massage tool couldn't reach.

The feeling of his canines rubbing, etching themselves onto her skin, yet again, as the pleasurable agony caused her to hike her chest up against the velvet silk ribbon serving as her bra, almost as if it were offering itself to be unraveled, her hips to swirl and rise gently as her toes clawed at the comforter under them, opening her legs a bit more as her 'heart' touched down again.

"H-handsyman." She gasped with a giggle as she felt his fingers ran down her inner thighs, the smell of lime hitting her nose. "Thought you would brush against me not, finger paint me."

You don't seem too against it." He joked, "but if you want the brush and not the touch."

"I always want the touch!" She said quicker than expected. "I mean…" she pursed her lips to keep from talking.

"I feel the same. He whispered, truthfully, " I want your touch a lot."

"That's good…" She smiled, "cause I'm going to touch you a lot as soon as possible." She wiggled her bonded hand while giggling.

"Well, I should prepare for that. But first.," He moved from under her, laying her head down on the comforter.

Connie's eyebrows rose, hearing Steven move around her, "Mister?"

"Give me one of the sexy poses that you usually do."

"Oh?... Gonna take my captured, covered, and coated picture." She impishly smirked, sticking out her tongue just enough to be naughty and alluring; her leg slightly slid back, raising her knee a little.

" Ohhh, you look good...good enough to feast." He grinned before taking a couple of pictures.

"Good thing this paint is palatable." She flirted, hearing him snap his fingers, and the constructs vanished. "Freedom and sight," she mockingly cheered, rubbing her wrist. She turned her black eyes to the man standing in front of her, phone in hand

'-Chu-' she kissed at Steven as he took another picture."let me see your art, Mister."

He felt his heart pound at the velvet voice. Steven gingerly turned the phone to face her, showing a collage of the three pictures he took.

Connie stood up and stared at the phone in her hand as her panther-colored eyes stared at the three visages.

The first two were the same picture, just one in reverse, while the third was of her giving the camera a charming glance with her lips puckered.

"Whoa." Connie praised, as a feeling of prideful bashfulness swelled inside her heart. "I look so...Exotic and artsy."

There was no real rhyme or reason to his painting; the fruity colors seemed to swirl together around her stomach with stars of different colors splattered about, while some stretch as lines and covering sound her legs, and her chest area looked as if she was wearing jewelry and the top of a dress. Still, it all made her feel...

"Mystical."

Connie turned to Steven arching her eyebrow, "What?"

"Mystical." Steven said, "That's what I drew on you."

"I don't get it?"

"It's how I think of you." He rubbed his head, "You're Mystical, and you always leave me in awe, with everything you do… " He chuckled, "as I said, art like this isn't my strength, but I wanted to show off my feelings for you. You know paint you I my aff-"

He never got to finish before Connie cupped his cheeks, brought his face down to her, and kissed him, slowly, tenderly, and lovingly,

Their lips pressed, and tongues twisted as his hands folded on the curve of her back—the tell-tale popping single end of the kiss.

"You have me in a spell as well, Mister. She grinned lovingly, breaking his grip, and stood back, "that being said, " she turned her back to him before taking his right hand to the ribbon, pulling and unraveling it, and trying it around his right hand and showing her bare and topless back to him. Untouched by his paint.

"You're only halfway done." She grinned back at giving him a 'come hither glance from behind her shoulder.

Steven was awestruck by the appearance of Connie bolden back and sensual words(despite having seen her back, many times already); he grinned and licked his lips as he dipped his brush down into the paint ( marshmallow) and gave her a long stroke along her spine watching her tremble at the touch as she let out a pleasing gasp. There was more artistic fun to be had.

#steven universe #connie maheswaran #connverse #steven universe future #steven universe fanfiction #steven and connie #older steven #older connie #connverse fanfic #fighting flirty #special match #sensuality #body painting #mister #heartberry

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scoooby · 4 years ago

Text

The Reason to Live (is to Die For This)

Read on AO3

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Beta: @tenderlyannoyinglight

Word count: 6.3k

Trigger warning: descriptions of pain, death and violence.

Relationship: Merlin/Arthur *if you don't like merthur it can be taken as gen if you skip the last hundred words

Summary:

"I don't want to leave him. He thinks. I can't.

It shouldn't be the first thing he thinks of. He should be thinking of his mother, Gaius, Gwen. He should be thinking of how Kilgharrah had said he was an immortal, but Kilgharrah is also a big lying liar who lies, so he shouldn't have believed him. But he doesn't think of any of those things, after ten years of sacrificing, his brain is wired to think of Arthur, only of him."

In which Merlin is stabbed instead of Arthur. Oops.

Merlin doesn't know where the blood came from, flowing down and not stopping. There's so much of it staining the ground and his clothes, forming a puddle, he feels dizzy and nauseous looking at it. It's been almost ten years, but the sight of injury still repulses him. It scares him even more because he can't find its source. No, it terrifies him. Whose blood is it? Where is he, exactly? But he tries not to dwell on it and wonders where Arthur is. Wasn't he just here? Silly Arthur, always disappearing.

He giggles, then sobers up. He has more important things to worry about. Like the blood. Blood is so red. Like strawberries. He wishes he could make strawberries right now, Freya likes them. Speaking of which, he should probably talk to her soon.

He touches his hand to his abdomen, startled when he feels something wet and sticky. Oh.

Oh.

It's his blood. He's been maimed. He's the one dying.

I don't want to leave him. He thinks. I can't .

It shouldn't be the first thing he thinks of, and he should be thinking of his mother, Gaius, Gwen. He should be thinking of how Kilgharrah had said he was an immortal, but Kilgharrah is also a big lying liar who lies, so he shouldn't have believed him. But he doesn't think of any of those things, after ten years of sacrificing, his brain is wired to think of Arthur, only of him.

It shouldn’t be. He should be more carefree and alive and happy, like he is now. And he’s so happy.

He distantly hears a thud behind him, as if something heavy, clad in metal, had fallen. Swords are made of metal. So is armour. Stupid armour. It takes so fucking long to put armour on Arthur.

He feels hysteria rise up in his throat, he feels like laughing, He doesn’t know why. He’s been stabbed, he should care more. But those thoughts don’t even hit him. He wants to run, to jump. He could fly, like Kilgharrah. Or Aithusa. Can Aithusa fly? He would have to ask Morgana.

But Morgana doesn’t like him.

Maybe Balinor would know when dragons start to fly. He knows a lot, right?

Oh, but he can’t. Balinor is dead. Balinor is extremely dead and rotting. Hunith would be sad if she found out, he doesn’t want her to be sad. She deserves the world. He won’t tell her.

“Don’t worry,” he coos, even though there’s no one there. “I won’t tell.”

He tries to get up, but his knees are weak. He doesn't know why his ears have started to ring. Hhhhh. Hhh. That’s all he hears. It sounds weird. Weird. Weirdweirdweirdweirdweird. What a word, All words should be like it.

Everything is just a blob of grey and black. All he sees is a spinning world and green spots in the corner of his vision. He doesn’t mind, he likes green. He tries to say something, to scream maybe, yet all that comes out is a small, meagre groan.

He feels his eyes closing- And that's it. That's all there is-numbness, and then nothing.

Arthur is not ashamed to admit that he killed Mordred. The knight almost killed Merlin and dared to smile after doing so. Arthur couldn't just let him get away with it, no matter how much it pained him. Guilt doesn’t even come to mind. Mordred isn’t worth it - he tells himself as he walks, knees shaking, towards his manservant's body laying still on the ground.

He's bleeding at an alarming rate. His eyes are closed; his face deathly pale. Arthur doesn't bother with modesty as he rips the stupid brown jacket off (one would think he would come into battle wearing proper armor, at least). He had imagined doing it many times before, in entirely different circumstances, maybe with a bed underneath them.

Merlin torso is littered with scars as wood is with lines. Most of them are healed, so that only white lines are painting Merlin’s pale skin, while others are red, but still no cause for intervention. An enormous hole inflicted near his lungs, however does. Arthur’s not new to blood or injuries, but looking at this one does make him wanna vomit.

He stops, unsure of what to do. His hands hover over the body. What can he do, dammit? He knows first aid, Gaius taught him some when he was little. Nothing has ever come close or as grave as to this. He has been taught to call for the help of nurses, never to do it himself. He has to stop the bleeding, but how ? He's supposed to tie something around it; he remembers that much at least. He looks towards Merlin's face, exhausted and un-moving, a red cloth loosely tied around his neck. All he has to do to stop the blood temporarily, until he delivers Merlin to safe, more medically trained hands, is to tie the stupid red neckerchief around and hope for it to be the right thing.

He prays as he puts it around the gash. He's not entirely sure who he's praying to. It’s an unconscious reflex to beg for health. To be able to say it is someone else's fault, because he knows it's his. He should never have let Merlin come in front of him; let the sword pierce him. Damn him; damn Merlin; damn Mordred; damn the War; damn Morgana; damn everything.

It sickens him, all of it. This cave, this life. The air is dirty. The metallic smell of blood engulfing everything and making it its own. Throwing up would sound like a good idea if Arthur didn’t have more pressing matter at hand.

The air also smells of disappointment. What is he even doing? He's just two years into his reign, the army is practically gone. So many knights are dying in his name, right now, with their belief in him. And now Merlin is going to die too.

No. Merlin can't die, I won't allow it. His resolve hardens as he picks him up in his arms, Merlin’s head on his shoulder, back bent so gravity can keep the blood inside. and carries him through the mass of dead bodies. Arthur places him on the horse and climbs on behind him, arms on the reins and still supporting Merlin’s head.

It's a long ride home. You have to make it. For him. Is the only thought he clings to.

The aftermath of the war lingers everywhere. Bodies within quarter of a mile of another, their sunken eyes staring at them as the ride past.

No one stops them, too busy focusing on their own injured. Arthur's head is down to not see them. They probably hate him. With all of his being, he agrees.

Morgana, from an early age, showed to be better fitted for the crown. Might have even made Camelot a better place, once upon a time, in a time long gone.

Now they're both just as terrible and ill-fitted for his home.

He tries not to think of her, it’s too painful. So, he focuses on saving Merlin again. Merlin. His best friend, who he had always hoped would become something more. His rock, the only one he could trust. Something he has proved over and over again, but something he had realised only during his father's funeral.

Uther’s death is a recent memory. Arthur had cried until there were no tears left to shed over anyone else after. Not out of love or grievance. His father’s love for him was long gone before he himself was. But because the moment Uther’s life ended, Arthur’s reign began and the feeling of no support or companionship with it. Morgana was gone. Ygraine had never been there to begin with, and the overwhelming responsibility hit him- hard . He had felt so alone. There was no one there for him. No one cared.

Then Merlin had placed a hand on his shoulder, whispered to him, told him he was going to be a great king and that he was sorry. As if Merlin was at fault. As if he wasn't the only reason Arthur was still standing.

It made him see more clearly that he might not ruin the kingdom- his kingdom. A spark of heat, mixed with joy and sorrow ignited like wildfire spread all over his chest, then back, arms and legs followed soon, and finally his face; he returned Merlin’s sentiment with a warm smile.

Maybe that's when he had fallen in love, or when he had realized that Merlin was the only one he could trust. He's still not sure which one it was, maybe the love had come slowly, or maybe, and just the seed had been planted back then, or maybe it had come fact and crashing.

And now he was going to be gone too. Arthur sighs, his eyes drooping from a week of no sleep. Everyone leaves. They always leave. Maybe he still had some tears left.

The dark is disorienting. Is he sleeping? Is he even alive? He has to be, he has to make sure Arthur gets back home.

"Emrys," he hears someone say. No, not someone- Morgana. Her voice is unmistakable, ragged and sickly sweet at the same time. She had always been like that, even before, a dizzying array of opposites.

"Witch," he whispers. "Why have you brought me here?"

The smugness in her voice is apparent, "That's very hypocritical of you, isn't it? After all, you're magical too. More than me, even." She didn't answer his question. "All alone now, aren’t you? No one to save you." He shakes his head; how did he manage to get here? The last thing he was doing was shouting at Arthur to bring him along ("I always thought you were the bravest man I knew." “That’s not fair.") Arthur's face had been so disappointed, and it had broken Merlin's heart. But if the war was still going on, then no one would be coming for him. He will have to get out of this by himself.

"What. Do. You. Want." He grits out, he doesn't have the patience, nor the time for this, he has to help them. The knights are strong, but even the strongest of human kind wouln’t last long against an immortal army. He has to be there with them, to help them, to keep them alive. No matter how much his words hurt, Merlin will still save them, because that is what he does.

She laughs. " You."

"I don't have time for games, leave me be."- turning his head around trying to locate Morgana’s voice; the darkness, the nothingness, hasn’t changed.

"Oh, but why would I do that?" Her cold hands are taking hold of his chin, nails digging into his face. She's right in front of him. Her silky dress pooling onto his feet, the edges of her dirty hair grazing his arms. "I have you right where I want you, no one is going to come to save you. I only need one thing from you." She pauses, her fingers snap; there are fires surrounding them in a circle. He struggles against the bonds of rope he didn't realize were tied onto him, but it's of no use.

She’s clearer now, seen better days too. Bags under her crazed eyes, a ragged and torn black gown, a cloak is gracing her hunched back. Frankly, it looks like she hasn’t taken a bath in months. She doesn’t even resemble the Morgana he used to know, the compassionate and cunning one.

This is his creation; he is the reason she is like this. He never should have listened to the fucking dragon, he should have told her about his magic, maybe things would be different then.

"I won't do anything for you,” he hisses. “I would rather die.”

“Oh, you will.” She says it like it’s a fact as if it’s inevitable that he will die soon, and a tremor goes from his head to his toes in a matter of a second. He’s supposed to be immortal, supposed to live for a long, long time. He’s not scared of dying, he supposes. He’s scared of what will happen afterwards. “And it will hurt, I can tell you that, it will hurt so much.” She inches even closer, impossibly so. “But that won’t be the worst part, no. The worst part will be that no one will care . Arthur won’t care. No matter what you have done for him, he won’t even notice you’re gone.”

He’s silent as her words sink in. Sow themselves into his brain, into his heart, tries to convince himself it’s not true.

“Arthur won’t rescue you. You need his help, but he doesn’t have your back. He’s not even looking for you. If you’re drowning, if you’re about to crack, will he even care?” Something on his face makes her look smug like she’s already won. “Face it, Merlin.” That’s the first time she’s called him Merlin and not Emrys since she found out. “You don’t matter to him. He thinks you’re disposable, But I know better.”

Merlin looks up at her. "You're sick," he spits, although it sounds small, unsure. "He would look for me. I know he would." The statement is more for himself than her.

She gives a small, cruel smile as if to convey to him how pathetic he is. “All I need you to do,” she continues, “is to tell me where you are once this ends.”

He's about to ask her what she means, when the fires go out and it all turns dark again.

He stops in the forest, to rest, though he's not sure if Merlin will even survive by the end of it. He lays him down against a rock and lights a fire. He has to make something to feed them, or they'll die of starvation before Morgana's knights get to them. He surveys the clearing they're in, and he's about to walk towards what he is almost sure is an edible plant (emphasis on the almost, kings don't always learn about herbs), when he hears Merlin whispers. He snaps back, his eyes are open, a once tantalizing clear blue now murky and grey.

"Arthur" he murmurs. "Art- I-"

He holds up a hand "I'm here Merlin," he says. "I'm here but don't speak, you need to preserve your energy."

He doesn't listen. "I-I need to tell you something and," he gasps, trying to breathe, "and I need you to listen without interrupting."

Arthur wants to tell him whatever he needs to say probably isn't as important as his life, but the look on his face tells him that it might be.

Merlin shudders, clearly exhausted. "I ha-have magic," he rasps. Arthur's mind goes blank. It's a joke, it has to be. Merlin can't have betrayed him too. He takes a step toward him, to reach out maybe, but thinks better of it.

"Stop being silly," he commands, but it comes out shaky.

Merlin eyes seem wet. When he opens his mouth to speak, all that comes out is a bare whisper, "I ne-needed to tell you. In, in case, I-I, uh, die."

"You can't die." He clasps Merlin shoulder this time, leaning down. "But stop delusioning yourself Merlin. You don't have magic, I would know." It's not real, he would've been able to tell. This can't be true, it can't.

"And I use it for you," he continues, seeing his expression. "Only-only for you."

"Shut up," Arthur whispers. Merlin flinches back. "Shut up, shut up, shut up."

"I-," he starts, but he cuts him off.

"Do not speak to me."

Arthur looks at him, something rising in his throat. He thought it would be bile, but it's laughter. Of course, of course, the only person he trusts has magic.

He stands up and walks away, until he's sure Merlin won't be able to see him.

Merlin’s heart sinks as he stares at Arthur’s back, she was right. He told him about his magic, and now he was leaving him to die in a forest, never mind the reason he was dying was that he had taken a sword for Arthur. Never mind that he had spent a decade protecting him, trying to stop hundreds of people from killing someone he himself hadn’t particularly cared for at the beginning. Never mind the fact that he had sacrificed so much, just so he could be comfortable living in a castle built on the sins of his father and the corpses of magic users. Ten years, all down the drain. Merlin wants to laugh, of course, it comes done to this. To Arthur abandoning him because he told him something he didn’t want to hear. Fuck him, fuck the pendragons. Couldn’t let him die in peace.

He stews in it for a while, too tired to cry. Too sick of everything to even care anymore. He won’t tell her though; couldn’t let it all go to waste. She’ll find out anyway, he knows, she has her sources.

Yet, he has more important things to focus on, Arthur will either come back, or he won’t. But his wound stays. The giddiness is gone, replaced with something else. Something warm, like a fire in his stomach.

He presses down on his abdomen. as he sighs sharply through his nose, it helps with the increasing pain, stabbing his bone and overtaking his senses.

His lungs struggle to breathe, it feels as if they’re filling with water as he drowns; his whole body burns as his back arches and writhes. It’s like there’s thousands of needles being pushed into him from everywhere, as if the needles had been pulled out from a fire before being inserted into him- red hot and painful, so painful. He wants to stand up, to run and jump into a lake, but his legs feel like jelly, he can’t move. It hurts so much. He hears distant echoes of screams; they’re probably coming from him. And just like that, it starts to ebb. The needles being pulled out hurts more, but the small burns they leave behind are definitely better than it was before. He slumps down against a tree, numb.

He feels his eyes droop. His pain is still shooting through his body, but at least he has some time before he has to feel it again.

He wakes up again in some time, not sure when. It doesn't hurt as much as it did before. He’s just tired. He lays there for what feels like hours, but the sun hasn’t even set, so it was probably a few minutes.

To his immense surprise, he comes back. Arthur… comes back.

"Come back to finish the job, huh?" Merlin snarls, refusing to believe that maybe he came back to help him because he cared for him. It's too good to be true. Arthur is compassionate and he is kind, but not to magic users. "One stab wound wasn't enough for you?"

Arthur's already been saved from the imminent death of his which has been prophesied for a few centuries already, Merlin no longer has to worry, and he doesn't want to either. If this is his reward, to be called a coward, to be ignored and hut out, what everything had been leading up to, he might as well have died years ago. He used to wake up with only Arthur in mind, He loved him, still does. He’s not going to go out any other way.

He was the reason he lived, and he is the reason Merlin is going to die.

Arthur recoils in shock, his mouth is hanging open a little.

Good , Merlin thinks, he needs a wake-up call.

"What?" He asks.

Merlin hopes his expression can convey his feelings and how unamused he is because his throat is clogged up and he's too exhausted to say a word more. He may be a warlock, but it doesn’t change the fact that he is in unbearable pain.

Arthur looks at him as if he's grown a second head. "You- you thought I was going to kill you?"

There's no reply. Arthur comes forward, stops when he sees how scared the other man becomes. He sits down onto the cold, hard ground. "Merlin," he says softly, "I, I'm angry at you, I'm not going to lie, but I would never, never kill you. I- how could you even-" he trails off, he kicks some dirt glumly. "Just, we’ll talk about this when we're back home, okay? When you're better."

Arthur doesn't know how Merlin could think that. He would never- he didn’t even imagine doing anything other than demoting him, at most. He feels betrayed, and he feels let down. But this is Merlin. If he practiced magic, there must have been a good reason.

Fuck. Has he been that bad of a friend? Has he been so distant that Merlin thought Arthur was going to kill him? He knows he should be angrier, and just a few hours ago, he was. He was ready to yell and to scream and to rage, but then he thought of Morgana. About how he used to love her, and how she changed when he turned her away, He doesn’t want the same to happen to Merlin, doesn’t want him to change too. If Merlin dies because Arthur abandons him, he will never forgive himself.

So, as he snuffs out the fire and tries to cover up his tracks, because he knows Morgana will be looking for them, he doesn’t say anything. When he picks Merlin up and places him on the horse, he tries to be as gentle as he can. When he squeezes Merlin's hand in what he hopes is comforting, he just hopes Merlin doesn’t hate him completely.

Merlin floats in and out of consciousness for what he thinks is a day, but he can’t be sure. When he first wakes up, he’s trotting along on a horse, Arthur behind him, and then he’s in front of a fire, sitting on the ground, then the horse again. Once, he wakes up to strangled screams, but he’s not sure what was going on. He’s too scared to ask. The fifth time he wakes up, however, it’s different. It’s not a coincidence, it’s on purpose, Arthur is shaking him awake. He makes out that they are next to the lake, where he has sent away so many corpses already.

It's calm and serene, obvious to all that is happening around it.

“Wha-” he starts to say blearily, he knows they haven’t reached Camelot yet, so what is going on?

Arthur silences him by placing a hand on his mouth. “We’ve got company,” he whispers. Merlin stiffens up, never a good thing. Not when you’re trekking through the woods, your companion and you both in bad conditions, both starving, one run through with a sword. Not when your companion is the ruler of kingdom which has war being waged against it.

“Arthur,” he says, his voice still sounding heavy and drowsy.

“What?” His mouth feels swollen, and he is incredibly tired, but he can tell he’s agitated, so he doesn't beat around. “Use the sword."

He looks surprised, the expression he hates. The one he uses whenever he realises that he underestimates everyone around him. "I think I know how to use a sword better than you do, Mer lin."

Prat.

"I mean, don't use your old sword, use Excalibur. It can kill anything. " Saying even this much feels like he just ran from Ealdor to Camelot without break, but he manages.

He opens his mouth to reply, but then his eyes widen. "Did you hear that?" His voice is low but urgent. Merlin blinks, he didn't hear anything other than the wind and- oh, he hears it now. There's distant screaming, coming from a woman from what it sounds like. It's barely noticeable, but the sounds of footsteps and something heavy being dragged on the forest floor towards them is much, much louder.

They exchange glances, only for a second. Merlin gestures towards the sword and Arthur nods, not questioning him for once.

Merlin tries to speak, he wants to help, but his throat is becoming clogged, and his vision is becoming blurry and- I am not going to survive. He thinks, before his eyes roll back into his head, and he passes out once more.

Arthur does not dare to say anything, or to do anything, other than stay frozen in his spot, sword in hand.

The noises are coming closer and closer. The screams have subsided now, but the steps have not. He knows he should highball out of there, but he has a feeling that whatever is coming their way cannot be outrun, and 50% of his lessons in swordplay focuses only on telling him to follow his gut.

"Emrys," says a voice. He inhales sharply, he recognizes that voice; knows it better than he has any right too.

"Morgana," he breathes.

She pouts, looking disappointed. "Seems like our Emrys isn't awake. Shame, I wanted him to see you die." She says it casually, as if she tells her once-brother that she’s going to kill him every day.

He reminds himself - this is not his sister, not the woman he grew up with. If he doesn’t kill her, she will kill him. And she will take his kingdom.

But he never meant for them to get caught up in this, he had to control himself. He can’t rush to hug her or stab her. He can see a flicker of what she used to be, the brave, young woman. He needs her to hold onto that. If she doesn’t, he will have to do it. And he really, really doesn’t want to.

But as she lunges at him, the flicker ebbs out. She has slipped through his hands, and she has changed. She has been carried away by the waves of sorcery, and it has ruined her. He remembers her being his hero when they were young, when they used to sneak out of the castle to look at the stars. Her arguing with Uther over whether it was right to commit genocide, the irony of which has stuck with him. Her teaching him to use the sword, having already mastered it herself. Her forcing him to make friends with Gwen, who grew to become his ex-lover and best friend and surrogate queen. The memories keep on coming, and they don't stop. But she, like everyone else, changed. No matter what time, she is different now. It will never come back. He wants to go back, when they were innocent and naive, when everything was left for them to discover.

But he can’t.

So he fights back instead.

It's all he can do to make his hands steady as his blade sinks into her stomach, as he buries it deeper and deeper until it comes out on the other side. She looks surprised, then grim. She'll be alive for a few days, at most, a few minutes, at best.

But he can't bear to leave her suffering, alive but dying, tortured. So, he stabs her again, this time aiming for the heart, and again. And again. And again. When he is sure that she's dead, he stops, sliding onto his knees. He glares at the sword in contempt. He killed her; he killed his sister.

No .

He killed the woman who wanted to burn his kingdom to the ground. He had no other choice.

But what sort of person is he? He's killed both his knight and his former sister on the same day, with the same sword.

He grips it harder, then looks at the lake. He needs to get rid of it, that's what he needs to do. No one can find out what happened today, he can't let them. He raises it and throws it in. He had thought it would land on the banks, considering how heavy it is, but it doesn't. Instead, the sword flies out of his grip, and cuts through the air, towards the lake. He swears he can see a hand reaching out of the water to catch it, but it's probably a trick of the light.

He turns to her body laid on the ground, eyes open and unblinking, mouth looking as if gasping for breath, cloak sprawled around her like wings. She's dead.

Somehow, he knows if he had used the other sword, she would not be; he knows enough about magic to realise that the high priestess cannot be taken down by a normal weapon.

But Excalibur was not normal, was it? Just another thing to add to his list of questions.

It takes him thirty more minutes to dispose of her body in the lake, staring as it sinks deeper into the water. He doesn't look away, no. He deserves this. He has to remember, and he will.

He doesn't move for a long, long time. Only goes so when he realizes that, although she is dead, Merlin is not yet. Arthur intends to keep it that way. He turns his back on her. Every step drains him, but he does it.

He can't be left alone again.

It takes them two more days to arrive in Camelot. All of it passes in awkward silence, with Merlin getting paler and paler with every passing second. Arthur doesn’t say anything out loud, but his mind is racing. He doesn’t think of them. He can’t. So he focuses on magic instead. He’s not sure if he trusts magic fully, even now, but maybe he should be more open-minded. Maybe he should give it a chance. Maybe it'll be different than it was with Morga- her.

When he arrives, it is completely different to what he had expected. There are mourners, of course. People in white, downcast expressions, closed windows, doors painted black. But there are also red banners hanging everywhere, citizens cheering as he rides past, ignoring Merlin behind him. Cries of "she is dead" and "the war is over". People are grieving, and there are those celebrating. He doesn't ask how they know of her death, he doesn't want to know. They tell him anyway. Apparently, the army stopped attacking, all of a sudden. They had cried, and shouted, and had turned back. It is unclear why, but Arthur knows he is the reason. Morgana dying at his hands is the reason.

Some help him get to Gaius', seeing how unamused he looks. They clear out the road, offer them water. Arthur is grateful for them, glad that at least some of his people acknowledged the dying man and had tried to help.

The physician is busy when he throws the door open, Merlin in tow. There are many, many people here. All with varying degrees of injuries. Arthur can’t bear to look at them. It’s his fault. It’s all his fault. So he ignores them, marches up to him.

“He’s- he’s been stabbed,” he chokes out.

Gaius’ eyes widen, and he rushes to follow Arthur. He lays Merlin out on one of the few empty beds, his body sprawls out on it. It’s sickening to look at as if he’s dead already.

He sets to work immediately, ordering Arthur to fetch herbs and vials and all sorts of things he doesn’t know the uses of. The people around them stare at him blankly, as if they know he’s the king, but they don’t fully recognise him.

He knows when he is not needed anymore, and backs away to watch. It's odd, and it feels so wrong. It's wrong to watch as Merlin is cut open and healed. Like he's invading his privacy. Merlin deserves better than to be put on a show in front of so many people.

He does try to help. Tries to tell as many people as he can to move to the castle, where he is sure more doctors would be willing to help, but some are in too bad of a condition to be moved as they are tended to by nurses. So he elects to focus on his friend instead.

Gaius' hands have always been steady, for as long had Arthur had known him. He cuts open bodies without worry, without even flinching. Which is not the case today, he notices. No, his hands are shaking. Not much as to be obvious, but he's known the man for far too long to not be able to tell when he's scared.

He thinks Merlin is going to die .

Arthur recoils violently. He doesn't know where the thought came from, because it's not true. It can’t be.

Merlin is going to survive. He tells himself.

Merlin. Is. Going. To. Survive.

Merlinisgoingtosurvive

MerlinisgoingtosurviveMerlinisgoingtosurvuveMerlinisgoingtosurvive

He repeats under his breath, rocking himself back and forth on his heels until he almost believes it. He has to.

He's not sure where the time has passed, because Gaius is in front of him all of a sudden but Arthur remembers him standing over the table just seconds ago.

Gaius shakes his head and it takes a few minutes for it to register in his mind. Arthur can't be looking at him, and his heartbreaking face. Just like him, Gaius' only support was Merlin. Was. Not is, was. Merlin is barely dead, and Arthur is already starting to think of him as a memory.

The physician knows what it feels like, but Arthur doesn't care.

"You should've done better," he hisses. He doesn't regret it. Doesn’t regret causing the shock he’s caused Gaius. But it's his fault too. He's the one Merlin took a sword for. But he needs to blame someone else. Because he doesn't want to think of the implications of Merlin dying at his hands. Gaius looks at him as if he is about to break, so Arthur walks away. From him, towards the corpse. He can't bear to face another person he's hurt.

It can't be true. There's got to be something he can do, something. He can't die, he can’t fucking die. Not when there's not much left to say. Not when they've just won. It's supposed to be a thing to celebrate, a war ending, he can't mourn. He can't give a speech to his kingdom which wasn't written by his best friend. Can't lose him. He doesn't think he'll be able to live without him.

He doesn't want to. He won't.

Merlin looks too much at peace, content in a way Arthur hasn't seen him in a long time. His long lashes casting shadows onto his freckled skin, his lips are twisted into a scowl, but he is at peace. He still looks the same, though. Beautiful and striking. Arthur's rock.

And dead.

Arthur’s hands move at their own accord, to stroke the side of his face. A sob escapes him before he can stop it, pushing through his throat. His people need assurance, and him crying like a bloody fool won't help. But that's the last thing on his mind. All he knows is Merlin is dead.

He isn’t able to stop staring, can't help wondering what he will do now. Whether the body will be burned or buried. He will be given a hero's funeral, it's no less than he deserves. He will be clothed in Camelot’s colours, or maybe his Ealdor's. Hunith would know better.

Oh lord, Hunith. She will have to find out through a letter. No. Arthur will have to go to tell her. He can't let her go through it alone.

He's about to turn away, to tell someone to help him move the body when his lips move.

Merlin's mouth opens, just a little bit, but enough to tell that he's alive.

Arthur feels a shock go through him. It was just an illusion.

Right?

"Merlin?" he asks. It can't be true, no matter how much he wants it to be. It was probably a trick of the light, but that can't be right. Because Merlin's eyes are opening and he's staring at him and some colour is returning to his cheeks and oh-

This the man he loves. And he waking up.

"Ar- Arth," he begins but Arthur shushes him. He’s alive, he’s speaking. He doesn’t know how, but it’s real. It’s actually real.

"I'm here," he assures him "I'm here." He shocks even himself as he leans down to kiss him. He's even more surprised when Merlin kisses him back. It only lasts a second before he pulls back, but he just kissed Merlin. It was rough, it wasn't perfect. But he's breathing. They're both here. He can't ask for more.

"Wha- what was," he exhales through his nose, as if speaking taxes him, "that for?"

"I wanted to," he says, shrugging, still not over the euphoria. He just lost him, he’s never going to again. The least he can do is not hide from the truth. "And, I, I also kind of love you. Like, I’m in love with you."

His eyes widen a fraction, but Arthur can tell he’s too tired to question it further.

He wants to say more, he has so many questions as to how he's still breathing, when he started practicing magic, why, but he doesn’t. He has time, they have all the time in the world.

He turns his back, yelling for Gaius. The physician shows up immediately, face lighting up when he takes in the sight of his son very much not-dead.

"We'll figure it out," he says, though he's not sure he heard him over the noise. "We'll figure it out." He grins. Yeah, they'll figure it out.

He swears, Merlin is beaming right back at him.

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seanfalco · 4 years ago

Note

Fic/drabble prompt: After seeing a better look at Klaus' room and then remembering your PWF 'verse and Klaus clutching a guitar in episode one, maybe something about the writing on Klaus' wall is lyrics Klaus and reader wrote together? And them playing guitar together when they were younger? If it can't fit or you don't feel inspired, I'll totally understand. I just thought it would be some decent fluff or maybe a flashback? 💖

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy Pairing: Klaus x Reader Word Count: 1k Rating: T a/n: hhhhh thank you for this prompt, I’m in love with this idea and I’m always down to write more PwF’verse

——

[ Sixteen Years Ago ]

“Klaus!” you cried, the note you were playing cutting off abruptly as you began to flail your arms around your guitar, “I need pen and paper ASAP! If I don’t write these lyrics down right now I’m gunna forget them!”

Klaus jumped off the bed and rushed to his messy desk, snatching a pen and holding it aloft triumphantly. “Got it!”

“Paper?” you asked, desperately repeating the words in your head so you wouldn’t forget them.

“Uhhh,” Klaus floundered, opening drawers and rifling through them, “I don’t have any paper.”

“Why not?”

Klaus shrugged before an idea occurred to him. Jumping back on the bed he scooted closer to the wall, uncapping the felt tip pen in his hand.

“What are you doing?” you asked as the tip of the pen hovered over the faded paint.

“What are the lyrics? I’ll write them down for you,” Klaus exclaimed, shooting you a grin. Grinning back incredulously you repeated the words to him and he quickly jotted them down on the wall. Leaning in, your gaze slid over Klaus’s tiny hasty scrawl. Taking the pen from him you added another line to it, your fingers tingling where they’d touched his. Klaus read them and nodded.

“Oooh, poetic,” he murmured and you smiled.

Setting the pen down you gripped the neck of your guitar again-- the guitar Klaus had helped you save up to buy. It wasn’t the best or most expensive, in fact, it was only a beat up cheap old pawn shop instrument, but it was yours and you were gunna write the best damn song on it.

Singing through what you’d had, Klaus watched you, a dreamy look stealing across his face as he rested his chin in his hand. Every so often you’d stop playing to write down more words on the wall, catching his eye and smiling, a soft flush creeping across your face.

Finally stumped, you gave a frustrated huff. “Hey Klaus, what do you think about this line?” you asked, your brows furrowing. “Does it sound too awkward? What about if I use a different word here…?”

Klaus straightened, chewing his lip in thought. “Ah! What about this--”

As the two of you bounced ideas off each other, taking turns scribbling on Klaus’s wall you barely noticed how close he’d scooted until your knees were touching.

“Hey, Klaus, can I tell you something?” you asked, resting your guitar in your lap and looking up at him.

“I’m all ears,” he replied, batting his eyelashes and smirking, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands to listen.

“When we get outta here, I’m gunna join a band, or start one, I dunno yet, but I’m gunna do it. And we’re gunna play at the bar every weekend--”

“And I'll be standing in the front row at every show, cheering you on,” Klaus insisted, grinning ear to ear at the thought.

You hadn’t planned on kissing him, but before you knew it you were leaning forward and your mouth was on his, teeth clicking awkwardly before you pulled away quickly, worried you’d gone too far, but Klaus followed, his hands pressing against your thighs as he leaned into you, chasing your retreating lips.

His emerald eyes flicked up to yours as if asking permission as he hesitated, his breath mingling with yours until you closed the distance, kissing him properly this time.

“Ew, get a room, you two!”

Diego’s voice at the door pulled you up short and Klaus sprang back from you, both your heads whipping toward the open doorway.

“Diego!” you hissed throwing Klaus’s pillow at him, though he ducked and it sailed past him.

“I hate to point it out to you, bro, but we did have a room,” Klaus laughed, unashamed despite the pink dusting his cheeks. “It's not our fault you walked by at the wrong time.”

Diego rolled his eyes, tossing Klaus’s pillow back at you. “Well next time, shut the door.”

Sticking his tongue out at his brother, Klaus made no move to follow his advice as Diego stalked away and you cleared your throat.

“So, how about the rest of that song, huh?” you said, chuckling awkwardly as you picked your guitar back up.

Klaus took the hint, but he proceeded to sprawl out, tucking his pillow under his head next to you.

“Please, serenade me [Y/N],” he exclaimed dramatically, a lazy grin pulling at his lips which you had to tear your gaze from with effort as your fingers sought their positions and you strummed the opening chord.

——

[ Present Day ]

Rolling over, you groaned, Klaus’s tiny old mattress creaking slightly and you stretched, careful not to wake him as he shifted in his sleep, his arms tightening around your waist.

Rubbing at your eyes you settled back against the pillow, letting your gaze travel the posters, abstract drawings, and random notes that littered the faded and chipped paint on the walls. Your gaze stopped at the uneven lines of writing not far from where you lay and you reached out, running your fingers over Klaus’s cramped scrawl mixed with your neater handwriting.

You’d almost forgotten the song the two of you had written together so long ago, using his wall as your notepad. It was a bit rough, but still a good song. Maybe you could rewrite it sometime, just freshen it up a little…

Your thoughts cut off as Klaus stretched against you, his skin warm to the touch and as you looked back down you found his dark rimmed eyes watching you blearily.

“What are you doing?” he asked, sleep still heavy in his voice.

“Nothing, just thinking about something. Go back to sleep, Klaus.”

“Not unless you go back to sleep too,” he protested, squeezing you tighter, his face nuzzling at your shoulder.

“Okay, okay,” you relented with a soft smile, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “Let’s both get some more shuteye.”

“I still love that song, by the way,” he murmured and you froze in his embrace.

You should have known he was paying attention. Even half asleep Klaus was more perceptive than most gave him credit for.

Brushing a kiss to his forehead, you pulled him closer. “I do too.”

#the umbrella academy #tua #klaus hargreeves x reader #klaus x reader #klaus hargreeves imagines #klaus hargreeves #my writing #the umbrella academy fanfiction #prompt request #imagine you are #PwFverse

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knivesandwives · 4 years ago

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Can you give an excerpt (is that the word?) or a pic from the book about Hannibal and Clarice's little date thing? I'm intrigued lol

Oh lol I'm honestly still reading it! Thank you for facilitating my venting though, and I will gladly share my incomplete knowledge. I haven't even finished this scene, which continues into another chapter. I had to take a break and cool my head because it makes me want to gag like I was a 5 year old with an aversion to kissing scenes (which is not usual for me. I just. I don't know about this). I could take the time to finish reading it in the time I'm writing this buuuut I'm too heated to do so atm, even though it would spare me the embarrassment of having very incomplete context. I don't even know whether Thomas Harris intends for the reader to want them together, but his treatment of Hannibal Lecter has generally verged on salivating over him, imo, so. I'm gonna take it as implied that I should like this a bit more than I do. I could be very wrong. Under the cut because it is a Rant

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I’ve got the fun wacky stuff first because this book is Wild. Bonkers. Then I have semi serious stuff and Thoughts thoughts in the second half

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

WACKY FUN STUFF PART

it is So over the top corny. Highlights so far:

-Hannibal is playing the harpsichord when Clarice walks out. In other scenes he’s played his theremin. He is insufferable

- the piece he's playing is called ‘If True Love Reigned’ and was composed by Henry VIII, which is a red flag if ever I heard one

-he dresses up in white tie for her and spends FOREVER decorating the house *just so* and inspecting the dinner table from various angles to check whether the Aesthetic is right, because the house he's rented out is only so-so and he's gotta make up for it:

I mean. He decides to add a shit ton of flowers to make it intimate and create a hanging gardens effect, realizes that this looks bad, and decides that the solution is More flowers. Maybe he’s right, but I think with the rest of the decorations this is probably looking like a mess right now.

-Uhhh if I remember correctly from the Freudian Daddy Issues chapter (hhhhh I want to have a word with Thomas Harris), the reason he makes the peonies in the flower arrangement “white as SNO BALLS” is because she has some sort of (dad-related) childhood memories about these fucking Hostess twinkie-level snacks. There are Levels to his floral arrangements

-Similarly, the cocktails he prepares for them have orange slices on the side because it’ll remind her of her father slicing oranges and Hannibal wants to be daddy

-The landlord he’s renting the house from (where he’s keeping Clarice and holding Date Night) has a fixation on Leda and the Swan, to the point that he has four statues of it and eight paintings of it in that one house alone. Hannibal likes the horniest one with the best “anatomical articulation.” Make of that what you will. There was indeed a reason for Bryan Fuller including such a pussy out painting in the set for Hannibal’s dining room. Hannibal covers the other Leda statues and paintings that don’t live up to his standards

- He brings her clothes to wear?? Special Fancy clothes for Date Night. Ugh. And I thought it was pushy and anal in SOTL when he gave her tips on how to improve her fashion

- Hannibal wears an ascot over a white shirt. No jacket. I don't know if I trust the taste level of this man. I like Freddy from scooby doo but his look seems like a stretch in this context

-he uses candelabra like he's the phantom of the opera and has this incredibly fucking extra mirror in his rented house:

-he tells her his goals for the evening in one of the trademark Long Confusing Hannibal Monologues we’re so used to seeing in the show, then asks Clarice if she understands, and her response is: no I don’t so I hope your food is good at least

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

Actual Serious Thoughts about it (content warning: some vaguely psychosexual things involving characters’ family, drugging and non-sexual consent issues)

I think my reaction is definitely influenced by the context that's been presented so far for their relationship in this book, which includes (briefly):

--Hannibal has a fixation on Clarice as a potential replacement for/idealized version of Mischa, his dead sister. The moment he lays eyes upon her again in this book he starts having uncontrollable flashbacks that directly associate Clarice with Mischa and overlays their meanings and iconography. So... that's something. It shows up constantly whenever we get a glimpse into his POV. I have thoughts about what Hannibal finds appealing about Clarice RE as an idealized version/teacup reversal of Mischa; the book tells us he admires her courage and her spirit as a warrior despite having been victimized, and so Clarice is in some ways a version of Mischa that was capable of surviving despite the odds. That was (crudely) my working theory, anyway. Might have to reevaluate that now because I'm less certain now about Hannibal's intentions and how much his appreciation for Clarice is really *respectful* of her potential, versus how much he sees her as some sort of vehicle to replace Mischa and be some sort of walking talking idealized doll that he crafts into his dead sister. I wanted it to not be *as* weird and psychosexual as I thought it would end up being, but this book definitely leans into some weird sexualized Freudian shit, and I'm concerned that Mischa and Clarice are part of that despite my best efforts to rationalize it in a way that I would have preferred. Really, who fantasies about their lover being a reminder of their sister?

--Freudian hell part 2: Hannibal has rescued Clarice from the Verger farm (after she rescued him, which was quite dramatic) and has her drugged at his house and undergoing the type of hypnosis we see suggested with Will and Miriam Lass in NBC!Hannibal. Hannibal suggests things, she follows those suggestions with apparently little agency of her own. He probes into her history and traumas and causes her to see things. Among his goals here is to have her make peace with her dead father in some way (in a scene which strongly resembles Abigail's therapy with GJH's corpse as seen in the s3 flashbacks), and to give her some form of control over her memory of him. This is accompanied by some very squicky speculation from Hannibal about Clarice having taboo sexual associations with her father, which she projects (among other things) onto other father figures in her life like Jack Crawford or her fallen FBI partner. I didn't know before I got into this book whether it was going to legitimize the Electra complex angle on Clarice this much, and maybe I'm wrong to accept Hannibal's viewpoint as sacred, but. So far, that seems to be the take.

----

So that's the context for the leadup to this romantic dinner scene. Hannibal has decorated his house specially for this date night type thing and given her a slinky, fancy dress to wear in his fancy house. Clarice has been heavily under the influence of drugs so far, and this night is no exception. This chapter so far has been a treasure trove of the more romantic dialogue repurposed for NBC!Hannibal, but I kind of can't stand it here in this book as anything remotely romantic. It's almost entirely him talking *at* her and it seems like this is more about him and his idealized fantasy of her than it is actually about her. The text does refer to him as "the monster" more frequently in this chapter, and it calls him out directly for his vanity and self congratulation, so I'm not entirely sure if I'm even supposed to like it, but. Anyway. You asked for excerpts! This particular scene is probably the densest part of a very dense chapter (the highlights are a mess rn):

There's a lot of interesting stuff in here, some of which really raises my hackles in ways I wasn't anticipating. Clarice has just emerged in the outfit he chose for her to join him. Clarice's first question to him is to ask about how much he's invaded her privacy without her knowledge, and he has a very bullshit answer where he pretends that this situation he's manufactured, in which he drugs her and creates a fantasy world for them, is okay because it exists outside of reality. It doesn't. It's an interesting idea but it's bullshit. This is not his memory palace, this is reality and it does exist as a part of time that Clarice has had to experience (or not, as the case may be for her level of consciousness throughout this). And he turns around from this question about him being intrusive to reiterate his attraction to her. Squick at that. Her plain (possibly curt?) answer to his compliment, even though it's a thank you, causes him annoyance. This is where I really, Really start to have, like, flashbacks to Jessica Jones and the playing house plotline. Real strong flashbacks to that. Clarice's (apparently unintentional) failure to meet his standards and reciprocate in the exact way he wants her to makes him Annoyed. Clarice identifies this and holds her ground, interestingly enough, and Hannibal has a moment of awe at her stubborn individuality, but immediately falls back on self congratulatory wanking at his choice of woman. Then, there's more talking at her, to which she eventually says that she basically doesn't know what the fuck he means but she hopes he plans to make dinner worth her while. I appreciate Clarice holding her ground so well here, especially given the circumstances, and I don't know quite where this is headed, but I guess the gist of it is that in this context I just really want to slap Hannibal about and see him burn

#ramblings #knives reads thomas harris #and vents about things i shouldn't #but thank you!! i need to and i appreciate interaction #but keep in mind i am a fool who is willing to vent about this without knowing everything #just think of it as liveblogging? i guess

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nc7dr3am · 5 years ago

Text

LILY’s RELTIONSHIPS WITH THE DREAMIES

MARKLY:

so their ship name is just his full name LMAO

they love it

so yknow how dream clowns mark?

obviously she does too

but she’s more gentle and has a TON of respect for mark

“minhyung oppa is extremely hardworking ... he’s always working to be his absolute best and he is so kind and down to earth”

they’re actually a really soft duo

because like. mark is truly her big brother

he cares for her a lot and helped her so much during her debut

he helps her practice her dancing (even after he left dream)

because she trusts him a lot and he know the exact way to help her

but yeah she still clowns him

calls him old man all of the time

but she was full on SOBBING at their last concert with mark

like she had to move her mic because it was so bad

mark isn’t too big on the pda but when they’re together he always lets his baby sister give him so many hugs

when sm told them that mark was coming back and they were a fixed unit ... god she cried a lot then too

she was so happy

“lily is actually so sweet guys. like, she’s so genuine. she cares a lot for all of us and she’s also so intelligent? she’s always reading” - mark when asked about her on vlive

he’s trying to teach her guitar but the only instrument she formally knows is violin

her skill with the bass is self taught and she doesn’t know actual notes so she applies that to guitar and mark is trying to ACTUALLY teach her

mark also understands her well because they were both raised in the west

she expresses herself better in english and mark is always there to understand and listen

they’re just actual siblings and love each other so much

LILJUN:

firstly

lily makes renjun look a lot taller

she doesn’t ever make fun of his height and gets mad at the other dreamies when they do

she clowns his voice crack tho HAH

lowkey the savage duo

lily is more secretly savage though

renjun is the one allowed in her room the most

he works on his art and she reads or writes or practices violin

they have a lot of quiet moments

but they also get silly together

so lily doesn’t think about the universe deeply because she lowkey thinks it’s a waste of her time

like .. she’ll never know and she’s fine with that so why dwell on it

HOWEVER she really believes in aliens and she and renjun legit have sat for hours looking online ab alien shit

they’re also both so smart

and she’s always talking about how much she admires renjun’s brain

stans his vocal talent. like. she’s loud about it

fans love this duo a lot nd they have a lot of romantic shippers

even tho .. they have never liked each other that way LMAO

at the airport she links arms with him a lot and they look like they’re gossiping hhhhh

when the dreamies are being too much they just look at each other and fans love that shit

also they’re both arguably the scariest members

renjun because... duh y’all know him

but lily doesn’t get annoyed often. when she does... there’s hell to pay and she has a good punch

“renjun oppa is so good at korean! i’m actually korean and he speaks it better than i do!”

“that’s because i’m smarter than you”

“do you want to die?”

basically just a really close pair! they’re always there for each other 🥺

JENLY:

she openly says that jeno is the cutest member

“he’s the most adorable person ever! his eyesmile is too cute”

the way she laughed when jeno ripped his shirt off-

she clowned him for DAYS

every time she was wearing a jacket or cardigan she ripped it off and mocked him

also whenever she’s drinking something around him she recreates his milk cf

also!!! she thinks jeno is so funny

she loves him and his humor

she and jeno have a really really deep bond.

he saw her journal (refer to my post about her room) and he’ll take what he read to the grave

he checks in on her a lot because he knows when she’s hurting

when they were trainees she was struck by how kind he was to her

and they were stuck together ever since

lily hasn’t ever been mad at him ONCE

they’re arguably the softest duo

they have a lot of romantic shippers too but

again

it’s a no

she’s a big nomin shipper too like unironically she thinks there’s something there

she always hypes his vocals!! he doesn’t get to sing enough >:(

he’s also her biggest cheerleader and when she cries and gets upset about her dancing he always pulls her aside and consoles her 🥺

he helps her with writing songs too!

wholesome beautiful friendship

they go out to eat a lot

jeno also helps her paint her nails LMAO

and they ride bikes together a lot

can’t commit to working out with him though because it’s way too much for her to do all that

lily also bakes a lot. and jeno appreciates that. a LOT

they’re best friends. she even bought them stupid girly heart bracelets that connect together LMAO

JIHYUCK:

so much affection!!!!

she is such a hyuck stan

“haechannie is my bias!!”

always calls him fullsun (in english)

number one hyuck skin enthusiast!! she thinks he’s gorgeous and glows brighter than all of them

also she loves his singing and thinks his vocal tone is so unique

always laughs at his jokes and finds him hilarious

he doesn’t prank her as much as the others because he’s actually so sweet to her

he’s used to having a younger sister and thinks of lily as his little sister

they constantly text and facetime a lot since they live in different dorms

she’s lowkey whipped for him and he’s whipped for her

not in a romantic way tho!

another member who always eats her baking

they learn girl group dances together

now we all know damn well that hyuck is the sweetest boy and so full of love

but we also know he annoys the shit out of the members

jimin is NO exception

he pokes fun at her and mocks her all the time

so she slaps him in the back of the head LMAOO

when does she actually get mad tho? when he shows up at the dorms and enters her room without permission

cue her chasing him around the dorms with murder in her eyes

yknow the vine where it’s like

“let me see what you have?”

“a KNIFE”

“NO”

that’s the other guys making sure hyuck doesn’t get brutally murdered

because lily can pack a punch

all in all though, they’re a great duo and they’re always so proud of each other

JAEJIMIN:

okay jaemin babies the FUCK outta her

he always takes care of her and talks to her about her concerns and vice versa

he was so happy for her when she debuted and was sad he couldn’t be there for it

she visited him all the time when he was gone

and she was heartbroken that he wasn’t with dream

she is a BIG 8dream stan because they are a family

but yeah fans can’t even ship them romantically because they know lily is his lil baby

she helps him with his english

and he always compliments her singing and dancing

proud of her songwriting

so much affection

even tho she hates when he pinches her cheeks n calls her cute

when he came back during go she was overjoyed

“go is our special era! we were all reunited~~”

he always wanted a sister and now he has one <3

she drinks a lot of coffee but not as much as him and was so worried about his health

they’re the biggest flirts w czennies

you’ll always find them with their arms linked in the airport

and everywhere really

during empathy era she was always hugging jaemin’s side

they also do a lot of lives together!!

such cute bffs

she is a big nomin stan like i said

name twins and they always tell everyone that they’re actual siblings

jaemin’s mom is so fond of her and treats her like her own daughter

HE REALLY TRIES TO GIVE HER FASHION ADVICE AND GIVE INPUT ON HOW HER HAIR SHOULD LOOK FOR COMEBACKS

they’re really true siblings and best friends 🥺

LILLE:

THESE MFS ARE BEST FRIENDS

01’ liners and so similar in ages but he ALWAYS brings up that he’s older

they compete over a lot

literally everything is a competition

she’s at her most childish with him

they also make lots of bets and she usually wins

clowns him for those predebut pics LOL

SHE ALWAYS SEND THEM IN THE GC AND EVEN POSTS THEM ON BUBBLE N SHIT HAHA

they can be really soft but will never admit it even if they are caught on camera

they’re pretty calm if they’re cooking together

he is Banned™️ from her room and she won’t budge at all

“chenle isn’t allowed in my room because he will disturb my peace”

remember on that one ep of weekly idol where chenle was SCREAMING while they did aegyo

yeah it’s louder when lily does aegyo

u didn’t hear it from me but her aegyo is SO cute it’s not as cringey as the others

but chenle hates it because she’s cute and he wants to clown her but he CANT

really proud of each other. super proud of each other

chenle has sat with her as she’s cried a lot. and comforted her. and it always stays between them.

she’s always there for him too

a LOT of fans have suspected that there’s something there

his mom loves her so much!!!!!

when she and jisung went to his house they were BAFFLED and impressed

“something bothers me a lot. one day, chenle woke up and looked grown up. he used to have chubby cheeks and looked like a kid and now he looks like an adult and has such defined cheekbones. it’s so strange”

when they became adults they got SHITFACED DRUNK

they definitely don’t say it a lot and when they do it’s in private (even tho everyone knows)

but they really love each other 🥺

LILJI:

jisung and lily is

p o p u l a r

with fans

because fans put together the pieces that jisung had a crush on lily during debut

lily thought it was sweet because jisung was always so cute and young

she saw him as a little kid

they used to not have MANY interactions

she always laughs when jisung is bein funny

and is in AWE of his dancing

he always assures her when she gets upset about her dancing

lilchenji is an ICONIC friendship

they watch a lot of movies together

she’s been on chenjis this and that a few times

remember that live when nomin got all in each other’s faces while chenji just froze and looked at them and then looked at the camera and looked real shocked

she was there and the three of them were like 😶

so yeah when jisung started getting really tall lily was real confused

and then somehow

during go and we go up

jisung started looking different. like. more grown up

and he had more confidence and talked to her more

and lily was like 😳😳

but spoilers so i won’t go too deep into that

they’re really good friends these days tho

the fans LOVE THEM it’s such a popular ship

at the dream shows when they sing bye my first

the song that lily famously LOVES

yknow that one line jisung has where the music goes quiet and he goes

“na geuttaeneun cham eoryeosseo”

blessed line it was beautiful

anyway at the dream show jisung would hold the mic to lily and have her sing the line or they’d duet it

and their eye contact!!!! and lily’s SMILE IS SO BRIGHT

stars in their eyes

um anyway!! they’re great friends nd very shippable for. reasons!

author’s note! i’m also a ‘01 liner! so don’t think it’s weird if i’m writing a jisung romance LMAO or who knows if it’ll be jisung? 👀👀

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