#hm: rai-con

[cardnompfs]

Let me ask you the same question as Sketch: if you all were locked in a room with no food, how would the noms happen?

Weeell it not like many of them are all uh, Chubby or Fat that makes it so they will get hungry easily, definetly not-

Anyhow if taking perspective and assuming, Tao, Rai-Con, Faust are definetly someone who'd just ask anyone if they wanna be eaten or do so if they seem to need of being eaten afterall- Ikala might have the hunger crave due to the mushroom growth that they need more than enough nutrients so maybe they eat someone out of hunger- But for sure Falkov, Litchi and Shade gonna be the one who would eat someone because they are hungry for sure..! I can see Falkov and Litchi trying to be the one who try and get a meal or argue eachother, while Shade gonna snag someone for sure-

And Oculiv and me can be fine with it all, Although me being hungry foodie myself i might wanna eat someone too- And although Shade being a void themself who feels hungry, they don't exactly need to eat..! They can survive for many days without having to eat afterall, Oculiv just eat if they want to as Shade just eat preys or food because hungy-

Soo you most likely see after opening the room, Falkov or Litchi has eaten eachother or got eaten by Shade (Although voreception whether or not the two has eaten eachother aswell-), Ikala might of eaten Faust, Tao might get themself eaten by Rai-Con due to concern of their well being ofcourse..! And Oculiv seems to be eaten by Sulavin because Oculiv decided to let the slug eat him-

That's my thought how it might end up anyhow!

[andersonfilms]

❝ LONG NIGHT, LONG RIDE ❞ ✶ ABBY ANDERSON !

★⠀warning y disclaimers — eighteen+, nsfw themes, country!abby, petname usage (sweetheart, darling), mechanical bullrider!abby, abby is a big ass flirt, kinda shy!reader, dub-con (alcohol involved). 

RAY RAMBLES ★ idk a random thought and i kinda ran with it. if you like, i have a part in mind with smut for my slutty friends. to be continued ...

you’ve never seen a woman move like she did. it wasn’t the first time you’d seen her there. nestled deep in the heart of texas, tattered-blue denim jeans hugging her thick thighs deliciously, white tank top accentuating her toned abdomen. worn-in brown boots on her feet, blonde hair as carefree as she appeared, hips in sync with the mechanic bull as her skillful hips ride as the operator strategically tries to rid her off of it. s’not an easy task by any means. 

she has the face you can’t quite seem to forget. you never really do. it’s become a ritual of yours. every friday night, you end up in this rundown bar, the only one in this nothing town. maybe it’s pathetic to pine over someone so clearly out of your league. but she’s easy on the eyes, the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen. surely, it wouldn’t hurt to just look. 

the girl of your dreams is riding the bull again, and looking goddamn hot doing it. possibly even hotter than this texas heat in the beginning of summer’s warmth. someone as muscular, toned, and broad as her shouldn’t be doing it so gracefully. it’s been a month of watching her. every friday night you nurse the ice bear, condensation dripping down to your fingertips, soaking your wrists as the liquid drips further. 

she’s making quite the show of it tonight. anderson, ever the performer. 

the only name you’ve heard being used, quite loose lips of the small town groupies. apparently, anderson, is the talk of the town and tonight the girls next to you at the bar are as chatty as ever. you only pick up remnants. bits and pieces of their drunken gossip. 

she broke up with her girlfriend. been two months actually according to nora. time to make a move. 

anderson wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole. 

whatever. i’m going to make sure she’s riding me tonight. you’ll see. 

you force yourself to disengage the eavesdropping and look away from the scene of her riding the bull. you’ve seen her do it so many times you know it’ll be over soon. it’s pathetic how you know that in the first place. 

you’ll leave soon, the commitment of work bright and early looks over your intoxicated brain. but then you hear loud boots stomping their way to you. looking over you notice it’s her and she makes conversation with the bartender as she sips on the chilled bottle of beer. 

“seen you here every friday for the best month, darling. do you like the show?” anderson chuckles as her body inches forward. her thumb picking at label on her beverage.

she’s noticed you before? 

“mhm, not sure. still trying to figure out if i do.” 

she nods smoothly, amping you nerves as she scoots the bar stool closer to yours, before taking a seat. meaty, strong, legs opened wide as they rest on each side, supporting the weight of her built frame.

“hm.” she hums, watching as you take another swing of your beer. 

she opens her mouth, more of her southern drawl seeping out but the girls from before manage to squeeze through the small space between you and the mysteriously hot woman who occupies your brain. 

“anderson, you look really good tonight.” the girl from before resurfaces, her sultry tone sharp enough to cut through the entire room, her hands making connection with her toned, freckled bicep descending down her forearm. you make yourself scarce to the bathroom, not enjoying the sudden storm in your stomach. 

it’s just there. 

jealousy storming it before you could even stop it. it’s clear anderson is more than sought after. she’s everyone’s dream, yourself included. you’ve had one short lived conversation. maybe she’s an asshole, a cheater, an ego the size of this massive state.

it’s what you told yourself as you washed your hands in the washroom. it’s the only thing you could tell yourself. the hint of rejection was even more unsettling so you decided to pay your tab and get the hell out of here. 

the vibrator tucked in your nightstand drawer had never done you wrong. why break a good thing? right? god, there’s never been a more pathetic moment on earth. you and your wand against the world of scorned loneliness. but then she’s in there with you. you’re frozen, unable to move as walks in. confidently, resting her broad back against the wooden door. the single use bathroom does not give you much room to breathe. 

anderson crosses her arms, muscles flexing as her arms visibly look bigger, as if they weren’t already delicious enough. she looks down as you’re slightly bent over the short sink, suddenly taking interest in your ass. 

well, it seems sudden to you. 

“you really didn’t have to run off.” she tuts, as you find her frame in the mirror. you swear she bucks her hips slightly but you must be imagining it. taking note of her golden locks flowing past her sculpted shoulders, brown stetson hat concealing her eyes from you, for the most part.

“i don’t know. you seem pretty preoccupied. didn’t wanna put a damper on your night.” once you were done rinsing your hands, you turned around, arms placed at your side. every single bone of your body incredibly nervous to speak with her. especially to be alone together.

“besides, it seems like you have a lot of fans mesmerized by you, anderson. everyone seems to talk about you.” 

“maybe? but i wanna talk to you, darling.” pushing off the door, anderson inches herself closer towards you.

“would this be something you want? my attention?” raising her head, tilting it to the side as she awaits your response. 

“you’re… forward.” you grasp at straws, trying to find the right words but nothing seems right. 

“jus’ know what i want when i see it.” anderson admits. you’re not sure what to think. the sinfully hot woman, everyone’s vying for her attention, and she’s decided to extend her interest in you. why? you’re not sure. “what?” 

“i-i just don’t know what to say to you, anderson.” she smirks, the sly smile of hers on display. “anderson, huh?” 

“isn’t that your name?” you perch yourself onto the sink. clearly, you’re not going anywhere anytime soon. “sort of. it’s what everyone here knows at least. but you should call me by my name. my real one.” 

you’re honored with a privilege, a simple one, just for you. it’s intoxicating how special she can make you feel. your heart beating out of your chest the more she takes. affecting all and any rational thought occupying your brain. it’s just her. 

“abigail, but you can call me abby. abs.” she takes a few steps forward inching closer to the space between your open thighs.

“whatever you want, really. as long as these pretty lips are talking to me. hm? how does that sound to you?” 

you visibly gulp as  she inches closer and closer…

“uh, um, abigail’s pretty.” she’s got you now. utterly fucking trapped. 

abby chuckles. if she wasn’t this hot, it would be downright condescending. “mmm, think i’m pretty, sweetheart?” she’s so sure of what she wants, eyes set on you and it’s s’much to handle. the trap’s been set and you’re falling into her southern charm far easier than you would have if it were anyone else.

you barely nod your head, shyly biting your lip. finally, giving her something to work with. abby’s thinking about devouring you whole, eating you right up, bringing you home with her, pulling you into her bedroom, tearing you apart in every way she knows how. 

the light shining in your eyes makes her think you’d let her. 

“y-yeah, i do.” abby makes home between your thighs, standing at her full height, stammering six feet tall. firmly grabbing your legs before wrapping them around her torso. “bet you do, sweetheart. i’m sure you think about all sorts of things, especially about me.” 

your breath hitches as abby removes her hat, shaking her blonde hair to the side, sunkissed skin even more exquisite up close. freckled cheeks, the adorable bump in her nose, her nipples hard and now poking through the tank top, chest nearly against yours as she wedges herself impossibly close to you. perfectly shaped lips moving closer to yours. 

“why don’t you tell me what you think about when i’m riding the bull? when my hips roll, my head tossed back, and my back arched. be a sweetheart and tell me, darling.” her hat is placed in free hand while the other softly grips your chin, thumb smoothing over the soft skin.

“be real good and tell me.” 

you pause for a moment, doing your best not to fumble over your words, just this once. 

“most of the time, i can’t stop looking at your hips. how in control you look, so confident and my mind just…drifts.” you linger, eyes meeting her baby blues and fuck. fuck. fuck. 

you’ve never been so doomed to fall. 

“darling, don’t leave me hanging. what does it drift to?” abby asks, dipping her lips to your neck, ghosting over the access point, until she lightly kisses at your collarbones. so light, it makes you question if this is just some cruel, fever dream you’ll wake up from.

“shit.” abby takes it as a sign to continue her lips dip into your chest, hardly divulging to where you need her, before she’s ascending back up to your neck. “you gonna be good for me?” she whispers in your ear, her breath calm and even. 

you nod and abby bites your ear playfully as you moan, pulling her in by your legs. “hm, if i keep whispering pretty little things in your ear? can you handle me, sweetheart?” her southern accent further cementing you in her honey grip. 

“maybe? i don’t know. fuck, yes?” abby giggles, her voice dropping an octave as she goes in for the kill. “oh sweetheart. i might just kill this pussy of yours with what i have to say next.” on instinct, your hands tangle themselves into the root of her blonde hair, tugging her closer to you. wanting to suffocate her in your scent, but she’s already halfway there. 

“abigail, just say it. please?” she nods, loving how you’re already using your manners. fuck, so good for her already, not even having to ask twice. abby feels the heartbeat of her clit stirring in her pants as it chases the sound of your voice. she’s so feral, already. yeah, you may feel like a goner but if only you knew she is by far so much worse. 

“i noticed you the first night. those pretty fucking eyes staring at me. wouldn’t fucking leave me for anything, even when the bartender was trying to get your attention. those bambi eyes on me, bright eyed and practically begging for me….” abby’s purposely whines in your ear, causing you to grind into her. she can’t stop the chuckle leaving her lips. 

“you’re being mean. just tell me.” abby pauses as she grins like the cheshire cat. you tug her hair back tightly, the moan she emits is loud. her eyes nearly roll back into her head, but she’s able to stop it before it goes too far. before you push her to the subspace she can so easily get to when push comes to shove. for now, she’ll bask in the dominance. 

all of it so new, so fresh. “oh, i’m being mean?” abby threatens cockily. “i have  been awfully mean, huh? letting those pretty girls flirt with me right in front of you.” she kisses lightly underneath your ear before continuing.

“been thinking about you the last couple of weeks when i’m riding.” abby teases.

“you do?” your jaw slacks, your grip on abby’s head releases. “sure have, darling. m’thinking about how you want to ride me instead. pretty thighs rubbing together when you’d look my way.” abby’s hand drops to your thigh, rubbing your inner thighs with her thumb. basking in how you open them even wider, unprompted. just a small mention and you’re right back to her riding the bull. whimpered out for her, needing her to do anything, something. 

“why don’t we get out of here and you can come home with me?” she pleads, pressing a kiss to your temple. sweet and sultry with half-lidded eyes looking at you. your eyes looking at the hat in her hands. 

you nod, “yeah, i’d like that.” shyly, scratching the nape of your neck. 

“are you going to put your hat back on?” 

“mhm, not sure.” abby bites the inside of her cheek, anxious as the next thought plagues her mind. you won’t know what a big deal it is, but everyone in the bar will know. she will know, but you won’t and somehow it makes it easier when the request flies off her lips. 

“you could wear it? if you want, sweetheart.” abby asks sweetly. you’re quiet for a moment, pondering. “who knows. might be too big or too small.” you shrug your shoulders as if you’re not interested. 

“well, why don’t we try then, sweetheart? won’t know until you do.” she maneuvers the white cowboy hat, placing it carefully in your head. 

you smile happily at her. “look! a perfect fit.” 

abby knows there’s not a damn soul who looks better than you. “yeah, sure is perfect.”

DAILY CLICK + DONT BUY TLOU + DONATE

[lmh8903]

Benny Rodriguez x Reader Pt 8

Y/N's POV

The decision to reveal our relationship weighed heavily on my mind in the days that followed our late-night picnic at the Sandlot. Benny and I had discussed it at length, weighing the pros and cons of coming clean about our relationship. While a part of me longed to shout our happiness from the rooftops, another part feared the potential consequences of exposing our secret to the world.

The anticipation of what lay ahead left me restless, tossing and turning in bed as the minutes stretched into hours.

As dawn broke, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold, I found myself unable to resist the pull of the Sandlot. It had become our sanctuary, a place where our love had blossomed in the quiet moments shared beneath the stars. Perhaps there, amidst the echoes of our laughter and the whispers of the wind, I would find the courage to face the uncertainty that lay ahead.

Slipping out of bed with practiced stealth, I tiptoed across the room, careful not to wake Yeah-Yeah or my parents. The floorboards creaked beneath my weight, each sound magnified in the stillness of the early morning hours. With a final glance over my shoulder, I slipped out the door, the cool morning air brushing against my skin like a whispered promise.

The Sandlot was bathed in the soft light of dawn as I made my way across the familiar terrain, the grass damp beneath my feet. Memories of our late-night picnics and whispered confessions filled my mind, a bittersweet reminder of the journey that had brought us to this moment.

As I reached our usual spot, a secluded corner hidden from view by a cluster of trees, I found myself drawn to the old wooden bench where Benny and I had shared countless conversations beneath the stars. Sitting down, I allowed myself a moment of quiet reflection, the weight of our impending decision heavy on my shoulders.

Lost in thought, I barely noticed the sound of footsteps approaching until a familiar voice broke through the silence, scattering my thoughts like leaves in the wind.

"Y/N? What are you doing out here so early?" Benny's voice was tinged with sleep, his eyes still heavy with exhaustion as he took a seat beside me on the bench.

"I couldn't sleep," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "I needed some air."

Benny nodded in understanding, his gaze searching mine as if trying to decipher the thoughts swirling behind my eyes. "Is everything okay?" he asked, his tone filled with concern.

I hesitated, unsure of how to voice the doubts and fears that plagued my mind. "I just... I don't know if I'm ready," I confessed, the words tumbling out in a rush of emotion. "To tell people about us, I mean."

Benny reached for my hand, his touch gentle yet filled with warmth. "Hey, it's okay," he said, his voice soft against the backdrop of chirping birds and rustling leaves. "We don't have to rush into anything. We'll do it when we're both ready, together."

His words offered a sense of solace in the midst of my turmoil, a reminder that I wasn't alone in this journey. With Benny by my side, I knew that we could face whatever lay ahead, no matter how daunting it seemed.

As we sat together in the quiet of the morning, the first rays of sunlight filtering through the trees like shards of gold, I felt a sense of peace settle over me like a warm embrace. Our love may have been born in secrecy, but it was built on a foundation of trust and understanding that would withstand any obstacle in our path.

With Benny's hand in mine, I knew that our future held endless possibilities, each one more beautiful than the last. And as we watched the sunrise together, I couldn't help but feel grateful for the unexpected journey that had brought us to this moment, and the countless moments still yet to come.

"The carnival" I said as I raise my head off of Benny's shoulder.

"Hm?" He replies.

"The carnival is in a couple of weeks" I say nonchalantly and I continue to say something else, "The boys love the carnival. They'll already be so pumped and excited that we should be able to tell them without it upsetting them. We go public at the carnival. Even Phillips will be there" I said giving Benny my idea.

Benny's eyes lit up with excitement at the mention of the carnival, his smile mirroring my enthusiasm. "That's a great idea, Y/N," he exclaimed, his voice filled with anticipation. "The carnival is the perfect place to share our news. It's festive, fun, and surrounded by everyone we care about. And it gives us more time to process this decision."

I nodded in agreement, feeling a surge of confidence wash over me at Benny's encouragement. "Exactly," I replied, a sense of determination creeping into my voice. "And besides, what better way to celebrate our officialness than with cotton candy, carnival games, and a Ferris wheel ride under the stars?"

Benny chuckled at my words, his laughter echoing in the quiet of the morning. "You always know how to make everything sound like an adventure," he remarked, his gaze softening as he looked at me with an expression that spoke volumes.

"Well, life with you is an adventure," I teased, my heart fluttering at the affection shining in Benny's eyes. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

As we sat together on the bench, lost in conversation and laughter, I felt a sense of excitement building within me like a gathering storm. The thought of sharing our love with the world filled me with a newfound sense of purpose, a belief that together, Benny and I could overcome any obstacle that stood in our way.

With Benny's hand in mine, I knew that our future held endless possibilities, each one more beautiful than the last. And as we watched the sunrise together, the promise of the carnival looming on the horizon, I couldn't help but feel grateful for the unexpected journey that had brought us to this moment, and the countless moments still yet to come.

"Let's make some memories, Benny," I said, leaning in to press a soft kiss against his cheek. "Starting with the carnival."

[primevein]

The Prime of His Youth: Book II: Quest for Fire: Ch14: Tough

Jack stood at the crossroads, and remembered the last time he had been here.

"Which way did you go?" Smokescreen asked.

"We went..." Arcee said, until she caught sight of Jack's eyes closed, with a look of concentration, "You okay, Jack?" she asked.

"I can feel... something..." Jack voiced.

"Something?" Smokescreen asked. Arcee turned to Arcelia, and gave her an understanding look. "What was that about?"

"Oh, nothing." Arcee said, and looked back to Jack. She then looked back to Smokescreen, "Just that she thought something would happen." Arcee looked down to Jack and kneeled down around him. "You okay Jack?" she asked, as she embraced him.

"On one hand, I don't want you to let go, on the other hand I need to concentrate." Jack said, and Arcee didn't move.

"So, which is it?" Arcee asked.

"It's pointing the same way it did last time." Jack stated, "Just... a bit lower."

"How much lower?" Arcee asked.

"I'm going to try and wait until we get there."

Arcee transformed, and he climbed on top of her. "Oh, before we go?" she asked, "I think this is the bridge the Insecticon came from."

Windblade's turbines gently spun up, "If I am to understand, it was an elder?" she asked.

"Heavy, tough carapace. It's horn could transform into a blaster as it flew after you."

"Bring it!" Miko shouted.

"I like the little Wrecker's enthusiasm." Smokescreen stated.

"Haven't you learned anything?" Arcee asked.

"I've seen Miko wreck with the best of them." Smokescreen replied, causing Arcee to Tsk.

* * *

"Hey, Smokey?" Bulkhead asked.

"That's Sergeant Smokey to you." Smokescreen jovially stated.

"Isn't that what it means?" Bulkhead asked.

"It means sheriff." Miko stated.

"What's the difference?" Bulkhead asked.

"Where's that from?" Smokescreen asked.

"A movie you would absolutely love." Miko stated. "You should come by sometime and hang out."

"Wish I could, but I'm in Iacon, and we don't exactly have days off like you do on Earth."

"Terra." Arcee stated.

"Why do you keep saying that?" Smokescreen asked.

"Ratchet?" Arcee asked, "Apparently the international name for Earth, or whatever."

"If Smokey can't come visit us," Miko stated, "why don't we go visit him?"

"I could load the BLU-rays in my back, and we could head out." Bulkhead stated, "I'm sure we could teach the new recruits a thing or two."

"That sounds like a fantastic idea." Smokescreen said, as they drove along. "Anyways, what did you want?"

"You still using that one blaster?" Bulkhead asked.

"I'm better with one blaster than most people are with two." Smokescreen replied.

"Good to see you've still got your self-confidence." Arcee chided.

"That's not me blowing smoke up your tailpipe." Smokescreen replied, "On the range, I can hit moving targets quicker than most people can static ones. I haven't picked up another weapon, because I don't need one. Have I asked Arcee why she has her arm blades? No, because it works - for her. It works very well for her. Like Bulk's wrecking ball does for him."

"I also have a cannon." Bulkhead stated.

"I don't need power, I need accuracy." Smokescreen stated, "I could make more killshots with my blaster than you could with you cannon."

"Oh, really?" Bulkhead asked.

"I also can't body 'Cons like you do, even if I had a wrecking ball." Smokescreen replied.

"Hm." Bulkhead uttered.

"You've probably taken out more 'Cons with your wrecking ball than I've even seen." Smokescreen stated.

"Don't cut yourself short, kid." Bulkhead stated, "I've seen you taken out a group of 'Cons with nothing but your blaster and dance lessons."

"Thanks, Bulk." Smokescreen said to him.

"Yeah, he doesn't need a bigger head." Arcee stated, "Apparently modesty is not one of the things you've learned."

"It's not about modesty or glory." Smokescreen said, "When you're in the field, you have to know what you can do, and know what your enemy can do. And THEN you have to try and figure out how you can beat them."

"Or just come in like a wrecking ball." Bulkhead stated.

"Yeah, that's why you're a Wrecker, and I'm not." Smokescreen added.

"Sergeant Smokey?" Windblade asked.

"Smokey IS his rank." Miko stated, "It means sheriff."

"Smokey Smokescreen?" Windblade asked.

"Yeah, I see them." Smokescreen stated.

"Just don't want to get your hands dirty?" Bulkhead asked.

"They can't catch us until we stop." Smokescreen stated, and angled his mirrors to see the Hardshell-type Insecticon Elders behind them, "We've got one flyer, so it would be better for us to wait until we cross the bridge."

"I could take most of them out, myself." Windblade stated, "If Smokey Smokescreen could support?"

"Captain?" Smokescreen asked.

"Approved." Jack stated, "Bulkhead, just keep going, if me and Arcee pull back, take the civies to the other side of the bridge."

"You got it." Bulkhead stated, and dropped the throttle hard. Arcee, Arceelia, and Roxana pulled off to the side to let him pass, as Sirenia dropped low enough that they could feel the rotor wash over them.

"Siren, when you get across, orbit high enough to see what's going on."

"Master." she asserted.

"BUT KEEP YOURSELF SAFE!" Jack shouted.

She was shocked enough that it took a moment for her to reply, "Yes, Master."

Smokescreen transformed and skidded to a halt. He dove into a transformation in the opposite direction as Windblade flew by. There were six of the Insecticons flying at them. They transformed their horns into blasters, but Windblade evaded them all. She transformed at the last moment and cut one in half with her sword. She transformed back and pulled up where she knew they could not fire at. Smokescreen still drove towards them. Windblade peaked and dove back down. Her engines on full burn. She transformed at the last second, her sword passing through another. She fired her turbines to knock her toward the third, which was again cut in half. She transformed, flying under the bridge to build up momentum. Smokescreen transformed and skidded to a stop overtop of where she was, and started blasting the wings. Three shots, three Insecticons falling down. Two transformed as they landed on the bridge while one was off to the side. His struggle to right himself caused him to fly into one of the pillars.

Arcee screamed up from behind him with Jack on her back. Smokescreen turned around and transformed. Arcee jumped off his front as a ramp and a moment later he accelerated away. Jack leapt off of Arcee, rolling as he hit the ground. Arcee transformed, striking the Insecticon in the head before moving off to the side. Jack wrapped the Insecticon's legs and shocked him. This caused him to fall to the ground, twiching. With a reversed grip, Jack buried his sword into the top of the Insecticon's torso plate and ripped it open. A crack, but large enough. He then drew his bolt pistol with his left hand and fired a couple of rounds. They exploded a split second after impact, causing Energon to spray out, but the Insecticon still moved. Jack took aim again and fired two more rounds. When they exploded, the Insection stopped moving, aside from the occational twitch.

Windblade transformed just above the last Insecticon, her sword cutting him cleanly in half, before the Energon flowed out and onto the bridge.

"That's one hell of a sword." Arcee said to her.

"I don't know what hell is, but yes." Windblade stated, and turned towards them, walking over, "Yours is quite interesting as well."

* * *

Smokescreen transformed into a run as Bulkhead was hitting one with his wrecking ball. He swore he could see the Insecticon's skull compacted by the blow. Miko was throwing a second into the third. Smokescreen ran up to the one Bulkhead had hit, shooting him point blank in the head without slowing down. He made his way to the second and third, shooting them each in the head. While it definitely did damage, it didn't stop them. Smokescreen ducked as Miko punched one of them, and it flew over his head. He fired into the head of the one on the ground a couple more times, and it was not dead, but now only twitching.

"What does it take to kill these things?" Smokescreen asked.

Bulkhead's wrecking ball stuck him in the torso plate, and crunched. He struck again and again, and on the third time he broke through. He lifted it in the air and brought his left hand to hold the wrist before dropping the spiked ball into the Insection's chest cavity.

Smokescreen looked over to Miko flipping the living Insecticon over her hip. She pinned it and ripped off the arm, Energon bleeding from both the arm and the socket. She then punted him into the air, right into Bulkhead's wrecking ball.

Smokescreen transformed and drove off to the first, that was still barely moving. He transformed back. He fired into the body, and repeated this a dozen time before he stopped.

"Now what do you think?" Bulkhead asked him.

"I think that even if you give me a wrecking ball, there's no way I can do that." Smokescreen replied.

Arcelia transformed, appearing out of the rubble, and walked up to him. Roxana transformed and walked out as well. Sirenia flew down and transformed behind them.

"I have schematics." Arcelia stated.

"And what good would they do me?" Smokescreen asked, "We can only copy?.."

"So, it is a lost technology?" Roxana asked.

"What do you mean?" Smokescreen asked.

"We can transfer the date straight to your T-cog." Arcelia stated.

"You can what?" Smokescreen asked.

"Well, Roxana can." Arcelia replied.

"And why do you have weapons schematics?"

"Because?.. I'm an archivist?" Arcelia asked. "On an epic quest? Why wouldn't I have weapons schematics?"

"I thought archivist meant records and stuff?" Smokescreen asked, "But then, Iacon's Hall of Records held a lot of the most powerful weapons used in the war."

[reginadeinisseni]

Pirati dei Caraibi "La Maledizione della Prima Luna" - trailer ita

JOHHNY DEPP, Evgenij Prigožin E I DITI MOZZATI

JOHHNY DEPP SI MOZZA IL DITO MEDIO (AL CENTRO) QUANDO ERA IN AUSTRALIA PRIMA NAZIONE A CONOSCERE LA PEDOFILIA DI EMILIO ANZA. CUGINO I GRADO

EVGENIJ  PRIGOZIN  AVEVA L' ANULARE SINISTRO MOZZATO, DOVE DI SOLITO SI METTE LA FEDE MATRIMONIALE

La maledizione della prima luna, FAMOSISSIMO FILM DI DEPP, VEDE IL PROTAGONISTA (JACK SPARROW . in italiano GIACOMO PASSERO, COME IL CANARINO UCCISO DAL MIO CUGINO ROBERTO)CHE E' ALLA RICERCA DELLA PERLA NERA E UN BEL MEDAGLIONE CON UN TESCHIO AL CENTRO, MALEDETTO COME GLI UOMINI CHE LO PORTAVANO

La maledizione della prima luna (Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl) è un film del 2003 diretto da Gore Verbinski; prodotto da Walt Disney Pictures e Jerry Bruckheimer Films e distribuito da Buena Vista International.

Ideato e scritto da Ted Elliot e Terry Rossio, il film è il primo capitolo della serie di Pirati dei Caraibi e ispirato all'omonima attrazione dei Parchi Disney. Il cast principale comprende Johnny Depp nei panni di Jack Sparrow, Geoffrey Rush, Keira Knightley, Orlando Bloom, Kevin McNally, Jack Davenport e Jonathan Pryce.

Caraibi, 1720. La piccola Elizabeth Swann e suo padre, il Governatore Weatherby Swann, sono sulla nave inglese HMS Dauntless che li porta a Port Royal, quando un ragazzino di nome Will Turner viene portato a bordo. Quando Elizabeth si accorge che Will ha al collo un medaglione d'oro con inciso un teschio, lei glielo sottrae e lo nasconde perché può essere la prova dell'appartenenza di Will alla pirateria. Norrington si dichiara a Elizabeth, la quale però, soffocata per il corsetto troppo stretto, cade dagli spalti del forte finendo in mare; così facendo attiva il medaglione, che attrae la Perla Nera, ossia la nave vista otto anni prima Gibbs si lascia scappare la verità su Jack: quando arrivò la prima volta a Tortuga e creò una ciurma per recarsi a Isla de Muerta, egli era il capitano della Perla Nera, ma a pochi giorni di navigazione il primo ufficiale Barbossa pretese di sapere la destinazione.

gli Aztechi consegnarono a Cortès un forziere di pietra con 882 pezzi d'oro, sui quali le divinità scagliarono una maledizione che fa diventare gli esseri umani né vivi né morti: costoro sembrano vivi, ma quando arriva la luna piena svelano la loro identità; inoltre, chiunque abbia sottratto un medaglione del tesoro di Cortès, per spezzare la maledizione e tornare vivo, deve restituirlo con il proprio sangue. Quando la ciurma di Barbossa arrivò sull'Isla de Muerta prese il tesoro, ma presto i pirati si accorsero che non provavano più sensazioni e che non sentivano più niente, cosicché restituirono tutti i singoli pezzi, tranne il medaglione d'oro ora posseduto da Elizabeth.

Benché Jack abbia vinto e salvato tutti, ora è condannato all'impiccagione perché la sua ciurma ha rubato la Perla Nera; Nel mentre, la scimmia domestica di Barbossa si avvicina a nuoto al mucchio di ricchezze nella grotta dell'Isla de Muerta. Arrampicatasi sul forziere di pietra, ruba uno degli 882 pezzi d'oro e ritorna ad essere non-morta.

Il film è uscito negli Stati Uniti il 9 luglio 2003[2], mentre in Italia il 5 settembre 2003, dopo un'anteprima nazionale il 27 agosto.

Doppiaggio italiano La direzione del doppiaggio e i dialoghi italiani sono a cura di Carlo Cosolo, per conto della Cast Doppiaggio S.r.l.[3] Curiosamente, per l'edizione italiana, è stato tolto il riferimento a Davy Jones, nemico principale dei due film successivi, detto da Will Turner a bordo della Perla Nera, e anche il titolo del film è stato modificato.

Edizioni home video Il film è stato distribuito in DVD e VHS nel mercato italiano il 29 gennaio 2004,[4] disponibile in edizione disco singolo e disco doppio. Nel 2007 è stata messa in vendita la versione del film ad alta definizione Blu-ray Disc.

Candidatura ai Migliori costumi a Penny Rose Candidatura alla Miglior coppia a Johnny Depp e Orlando Bloom Candidatura alla Miglior performance comica a Johnny Depp Candidatura al Miglior film straniero a Gore Verbinski Eroe più sexy a Orlando Bloom Miglior bugiardo a Johnny Depp Miglior bacio a Keira Knightley e Orlando Bloom Candidatura ai Migliori modelli e miniature (l'intercettatore) a Charles Bailey, Peter Bailey, Robert Edwards e Don Bies Candidatura alla Miglior fotografia a Carl Miller, Michael Conte e Tami Carter Miglior combattimento a Tony Angelotti e Mark Aaron Wagner 2004 - American Choreography Awards Miglior coreografia nei combattimenti a George Marshall Ruge Candidatura al Miglior attore del decennio a Johnny Depp 2004 - Publicists Guild of America Maxwell Weinberg Award Candidatura alla Colonna sonora originale dell'anno a Klaus Badelt

Pirati dei Caraibi - La maledizione del forziere fantasma (2006) Pirati dei Caraibi - Ai confini del mondo (2007) Pirati dei Caraibi - Oltre i confini del mare (2011) Pirati dei Caraibi - La vendetta di Salazar (2017)

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

#gustavopetro #colombia #DONALDTRUMP #TRUMP #BOLSONARO #DORIGHEZZI #STRISCIALANOTIZIA #FRANCESCO #RUTELLI #PROPAGANDALIVE #ELUANA #ENGLARO #ELUANAENGLARO #CRISTIANODEANDRE #twitter #facebook #skyrock #linkedin #instagram #okru #tiktok

[multishipper-baby]

💔🌪️ ray, y 💧 eva (aunque su vida entera es angst, al menos en snowgrave(¿)),

💔 BROKEN HEART - what could their partner do that would absolutely break their heart?

Hm... Probablemente ponerse distante, ah. Ray trata de aparentar que no le afecto, pero que Owynn se haya perdido tanto de su infancia le dejo problemas de abandono graves, así que la idea de que alguien que le importa quiera dejarlo le daría mucho miedo.

Esto también va para ser emocionalmente distante- si Springtrap se volviera más callado y dejara de hablarle de sus problemas u otras cosas del estilo lo más seguro es que se pondría histérico ante la idea de que arruino todo y ya no lo quiere :c

🌪️ TORNADO - what is the biggest change you've ever made to them? how have they changed from their original version?

La verdad es que Ray en su mayoría se mantuvo más o menos igual durante los años; tuvo un par de cambios, pero casi todos fueron bastante sutiles y no afectaron demasiado su caracterización.

Diría que lo más diferente es su introversión? Cuando apenas lo cree como que tenía más la idea de que fuera un lobo solitario sin amigos, pero cuando empecé a hacer a mis otros OCs como que me puse a pensar "oh podrían ser amigos de Rayray!", y al final caracterizando su relación con cada uno como que terminó siendo más bien el extrovertido del grupo xd Good for him.

💧 DROPLET - random angst headcanon.

Nunca llegó a conocer a Rudy, así que todo lo que sabe de él es por Asgore y Toriel (+ la mamá de Noelle cuando se digna a darle dos segundos de atención). Paso gran parte de su infancia tratando de saber todo lo que podía sobre él, así podía llenar el enorme hueco que sería el lado de la familia de parte de su madre, pero al final sólo termino por sentirse más vacía al darse cuenta de que nunca tendría la oportunidad de tener una figura tan alentador cómo él en su vida.

Y eso sin mencionar a Dess... En general toda la familia del lado de los Holidays es como que un dolor muy profundo para ella rip.

[takahashitakeda]

.

[itsbeaconhillsbaby]

(cruel) summer || tom holland x reader

a/n: well...this took me a lot longer than I expected. I can only apologise for how long this has taken, especially since the absolutely wonderful @glahmouur​ requested it so many months ago. I hope you’re still excited to read, and that I’ve done it justice for you. clinging onto the last of these summer vibes before my favourite time of year - and hopefully plenty more writing to come over the next couple of weeks! I’ve missed you all so very much. enjoy x  word count: 3735 (oops) warning: swearing, gross paparazzi, little bit of angst summary: it’s the summer of your dreams with your favourite people, something was always going to try and ruin it

The trip had been booked for months.

Tom, Harrison, Harry, Tuwaine and yourself. Mexico. 

Two whole weeks. 

No interruptions. No work. Just pure bliss. 

And, it was shaping up to be the most perfect break.

The first couple of days since you had landed included a lot of amazing food, sightseeing around the quaint picturesque villages and cultural landmarks, tackling hiking trails and joining in on the sports activities set up for you and the boys on the crystal white beaches. 

Your favourite part however, was the amount of quality time you got to spend with Tom. Both of you were considered workaholics, and you loved your jobs, but it meant that for the majority of the year you were in separate locations working on your own individual projects.

You both deserved, and needed, this break.

The timing couldn’t have been better, as across the two weeks you would be celebrating your 23rd birthday. Birthdays weren’t always something you and Tom could share together in person, but you would always make it work with FaceTime calls and the promise of a do-over when you were together again. 

“Hey!” 

You tore yourself away from the soft paperback that was resting warmly against your thighs.

“Hm?”

You look up at your boyfriend, strong arms hauling himself up against the hot paved edging of the pool. He shook his wet curls out of his hair, droplets springing from the tips. Tanned, freckled shoulders peeked out from beneath the water. The sun, strong and intense, commandeered the bright blue skies. A far cry from the cold, rainy weather you’d left back home in the UK. You were unwilling to make your way back to your hotel room in the sticky heat for your forgotten sunglasses, and were instead using your hand as a shield from the glaring rays. 

“The water looks good on you,” you flirt, smiling across at him from your position on the reclined sun-bed. 

He grins back at you, cheekily. 

“It’ll look better on you. Aren’t you coming in?” 

You pointed to the book nestled between your legs, “I’m reading, plus the water is freezing.” You teased him, training your eyes back onto the page. You heard brief splashing alongside the laughter of the boys as they continued to play their water basketball game. 

A shadow blocks out your sun, dripping water onto the hot concrete. 

“Yeah, no. Sorry, but that’s just not going to cut it birthday girl.” 

Before you had a chance to take in his words, Tom had scooped you up from your position on the sun-bed. The light droplets from his wet, messy hair chilling your tanned skin. 

“Tom! No! Put me down! What are you doing?” You laughed, lightly kicking your legs, “Wait, at least let me put my book down first.” 

You felt the grumbled laugh against your body, as you gently tossed your book onto the lounger. 

“Okay, go ahead.” 

He pressed a sloppy, wet kiss on your mouth - your hand knotted in the back of his wet, tangled hair as you pushed for more.

“Love you.” He said, before dropping you into the pool with a splash. 

“You suck, Holland!” You shouted back to him, once you’d come back up for air, shaking water out of your ears and trying to scoop your tangled web of hair out of your eyes as he laughed, eyes twinkling. ****

You continued to watch from your perch on the side-lines, legs tracing patterns in the water whilst the sun beat down across your back and shoulder blades. The boys continued to mess around in the water. Your book had been long since abandoned on your sun lounger, pages now curling with the heat. You couldn’t contain your laughter when Tuwaine jumped on Tom’s back, Harry on Harrison’s so the two teams could race from one end of the pool to the other, legs peddling in what seemed like slow motion under the water; raucous fits of laughter emanating from both parties as your cheered on your boyfriend.

You couldn’t help but be automatically drawn to Tom, his smile so wide and eyes creased with laughter as Tuwaine casually slung his arms over his shoulders. His hair was completely dishevelled from the water’s attempts to flatten it entirely. You could see a smattering of freckles breaking out across his nose, complete with a small shock of pink on his cheeks as he was officially branded by the sun. 

“Hey, pretty girl – forgive me yet?” Tom whined, swimming up to the edge to meet you. He gently pulled your legs further into the water, sliding himself between them, wrapping his arms around your waist as your legs wrapped themselves around his. 

You laughed, pushing against his broad shoulders.

“Not sure yet. I’m thinking about it.” 

He gave a toothy grin before peppering a small cluster of kisses against your lips, “You look so good.” He mumbled quietly against your mouth.

You rolled your eyes at him, before returning the kisses.

“Oi, get a room you two!” You laugh as Tom covers the front of you, ultimately taking the hit of water from Harry.

He gives you a light squeeze round the waist, and a soft kiss on the cheek whispering a quick, “Hop on.”  

Wrapping your arms across his warm shoulders, you eased yourself fully into the water, feeling the immediate chill up your sides before wrapping your legs around Tom’s waist. Leaning forward against his back, he held onto the backs of your thighs – propelling you both through the water.

As you arrive next to the boys, you lightly floated away from Tom and were pulled into a one-armed hug by Tuwaine. As Harry held up a fist for you to bump against, you flicked your wrist just under the surface of the water – splashing him as payback.

Tom tread water with the cheesiest grin on his face as all the boys’ eyes immediately trained on you.

“Come on then, what’s this ‘mermaids’ game you were talking about – and how do we play?” ****

The air con hummed lowly, wispy curtains gently blowing in the cool breeze from the open balcony doors. The ocean twinkled in the late afternoon sunshine. You were sprawled out on the large king-sized bed wrapped in one of the hotel’s fluffiest white towels, legs dancing in the air behind you. Lounging on your front, wet curls drying in the cool air you could hear the faint sound of spraying water from the en-suite shower. It soothed you as you continued to follow the written words on the pages of your, now slightly wrinkled and rough to the touch, paperback.

Your phone vibrated from the opposite side of the room, plugged in and charging atop the rustic, vintage vanity table where your new camera, battery pack and Tom’s wallet had all been left.

The camera had been a special gift from Tom which he’d surprised you with on your birthday, celebrated only the other evening. He’d been so giddy the morning of. The carefully, yet haphazardly, wrapped parcel had protruded just slightly from under the bed in the hotel room you shared, where he’d attempted to hide it. You pretended you hadn’t noticed. Puppy dog eyes shone as he eventually handed it across to you, surprising you in bed as the sun was going down, casting golden specks across your bodies, as he whispered a soft ‘happy birthday’ against your lips. Beaming at you once he saw your sheer shock and joy at his thoughtful gift, he had kept the first photo you’d taken in his wallet from that evening. Just the two of you - both sleepy shadows, full from all the sweet lemon sponge cake that has been especially ordered up to your room - cuddled together, legs entangled as you fell into each other’s embrace.

You’d all taken a boat to one of the smaller islands for a special celebratory dinner the next evening; where Harry had surprised you with the battery pack, his smart quick-thinking leaving Tom with a pink blush upon his cheeks. You thanked him with a smile, the rest of the crew spoiling you rotten with drinks and food. As the boys parted ways, you and Tom had waited around for the sunset, high off the sparkling, sweet tasting wine you’d both consumed all evening – bewitched by each other’s titillating company. A small wrap was knotted around your waist, as you had all stayed in your beachwear, black bikini top on show as a server snapped a picture of you both with your new camera per Tom’s polite request. The sun burned low behind you both, it’s vibrant orange glow glistening across the water towards the cove. 

Posting the photo in your wine induced haze, you captioned it with a simple 23 and a golden heart before tagging Tom in the blurry, sepia quality polaroid.

You knew the vibrating would be your phone going into overload. A common occurrence that happened anytime you posted a photo with your boyfriend, the hordes of fans coming in full throttle to interact in some way.

Leaving it to buzz in the background, you turned your attention to the bathroom door opening. Tom stepping out as he shook his wet hair, towelling it dry as it stuck up in multiple directions haphazardly.

“Come here.”

You sat yourself up, legs crossed beneath you as he walked over to you – that soft smile high on his lips.

He sat on the end of the bed as you brushed through his temperamental curls, “Please leave it curly,” you murmur, pressing your lips to his tanned shoulder blades, running your hands through the brown locks.

“We’ll match.” He said, turning to you as your hands fell back into your lap.

“Would it be too much?” You asked, as he gently tucked a rogue drying curl behind your own ear.

“Oh definitely. But I love it.”

With that, he pushed forward. Noses brushed as you both relaxed into each other’s embrace, mouths eagerly seeking out each other, the sweet smells of lotion and ocean spray engulfing you both.

****

“Right, it’s my round! Get your orders in!” 

The whole group hollered at Tom, who pressed a firm kiss onto your forehead as you tilted it upwards towards him, his two hands cradling either side of your head. Your eyes closed involuntary at the warmth before you turned to watch him leave the table and join the small crowd up at the bar. Dressed in a tropical patterned shirt, unbuttoned and billowing just slightly due to the aircon, you took a minute to admire him from afar. He worked hard to look the way he did, muscles contracting and relaxing again with each breath. 

You pulled the thin material of your summery dress down further, eager to cover up some of the bare skin you had on show after seeing Tom’s. You paled in comparison to the web-slinging actor, and sometimes if you focussed on it too much you couldn’t understand why such a gorgeous man would be interested in you. 

“Hello. Anyone in there?”

A hand waved in front of your eyeline. Shaking your head, you returned your attention back to the table where the boys were trying to mask their laughter. 

“She can’t take her eyes off him for two minutes. Outrageous.” 

“What? I’m on holiday, leave me alone!”  

Tuwaine smirked slightly, as Harrison patted your arm reassuringly.

“Why did we agree to have a couple on this trip again?” Harry complained cheekily, grinning his cheesy grin at you. You reached an arm across the table and pushed a hand against his forehead, playfully shoving him back.

“Shut up, you love me.”

As Tom came back with the tray; a colourful array of cocktails, shots and ciders, the group continued to laugh and joke around, cheers-ing to your recent birthday and to the remainder of their holiday under the heat of the Mexican sun. 

**** “Uh oh, incoming Tom.”

Everyone was rosy cheeked as they tumbled out of the restaurant, laughing and giggling as the sun cast its low golden glow over the glistening blue waters. Waves gently caressed the edge of the shore as you revelled in the drunken clinginess of your boyfriend, and the support and love of your friends. 

You walked with Tom - the pair of you in your own little bubble, as he tucked you into his side, his arm slung casually across your shoulders as you wrapped yours around his waist. You could hear the thumps of his beating heart beneath the now buttoned up fabric of his shirt.

As the words spilled from Harry’s mouth, catching you all off guard mid conversation, Tom whipped his head round; immediately sobering up as his arm tightened around your shoulders. You peeked over his.

Behind a cluster of people, the striking black camera was obvious as the paparazzi pushed forwards, eager to catch a glimpse of the web-slinger himself.

You felt a brush of cold air sweep over your body, the hairs on your arms rising like tiny pinpricks as little goose bumps littered your skin. You straightened up, unwrapping yourself from Tom’s side.

“You okay?” He murmured into your ear, eyes hardening as he focussed on the path ahead of him whilst navigating the drunken, bustling crowds.

You nod.

“How did they even find us?”

You could sense Tom’s frustration and anger at the situation, resting a comforting hand on his arm. You knew what this meant, if the paparazzi had caught wind of where you all were, it wouldn’t be long before they figured out where it was you were staying and you couldn’t imagine that they’d leave Tom alone for the rest of his trip.

“I posted a photo the other night. Someone could’ve recognised the restaurant.”

It was during your worried ramble that the shouting started, camera-wielding men desperate to get a photo of Tom.

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault, okay? Let’s just head back.”

Your heart was racing as you were led through the dimly lit cobbled streets of the small village, losing Tom’s hand you were flanked by Tuwaine and Harrison – Harry hurrying up ahead with Tom. The camera shutters were getting louder and louder, the constant clicking ricocheting off the stone walls surrounding you as you attempted to block out the shouting and the grabbing hands of the people around you. The once happy, bustling streets now felt claustrophobic.

It was so easy to forget who Tom was in regards to his public image and celebrity status when you were together. Forcing you to recall that he wasn’t just your boyfriend, he was suddenly an A-list celebrity, ‘Spider-Man’ himself. Back home you could easily be together in public without too much attention – only having to accommodate for the occasional fan photo or dinner interruption. Premiere’s and special events weren’t so bad because the press was supposed to be there, and whilst extremely intimidating, you understood it was part of the job.

You noticed Tom and Harry slip down a small alleyway to the right, a blink and you’ll miss it move – as you and the boys continued up the cobbled paths to the main street. It was a distraction technique discussed every time the five of you went out together and had to deal with any irritating situation.

“They said they’re getting a car, and they’ll meet us back at the hotel.”

As Harrison organised your transport, you reached the main road – twinkling lights from the city and the roaring of cars sweeping past you. The paparazzi slowed behind you, their shouts less desperate now that it was obvious Tom was no longer with the group. Their frustration was obvious as they all grouped together, scanning through the photos that they had managed to sneakily take.

Then there was a stupid comment.

As the paps brushed past you all, one leaned in far closer than you had anticipated, stabbing a pointed finger straight into your chest and leaning in close.

“Think you’re so special. Girl like you. So many other beautiful girls out there.”

Whilst the language was slightly broken, you pieced enough together before Tuwaine stepped in front of you both.

“What the hell man! Fuck off, you’re just a bully, why don’t you just leave her alone, yeah? Pick on someone your own size!”

You grabbed at Tuwaine’s arm, shaking your head in silent surrender.

“Just leave it. It’s okay. It’s not worth it.”

“I just hate them so much. Never let anyone have a bit of privacy. Constantly looking to bring people down, and start fights - assholes!” He shouted down the road at the small cluster of men as they continued on their way, “Are you okay?”

You nodded, “I’m fine. They’re just mad they didn’t get their picture. Let’s just get out of here. Should probably make sure that they don’t follow us back to the hotel.”

Harrison came jogging over, hand beckoning to follow him to a sleek black car parked just around the corner.

“Car’s here,” He paused for a minute. Noticing your smaller stature and Tuwaine’s puffed out chest and frown, he tilted his head, “We all okay?”

“Yeah, we’re good. Let’s go.”

Smiling a small, grateful smile you gave Harrison’s arm a comforting squeeze before sliding onto the black leather seats.

***** “Can’t even give us a couple weeks off. I love this job. But I would pack it all in if it meant that paparazzi just fucking left us alone.”

“Tom. Think we should call it a night.”

Harrison nodded over at you. Whilst your body was curled into Tom’s frame, your eyes unfocussed, having found a spot on the wall to gaze into as the boys all had a drink in the private hotel lounge.

You didn’t want to admit that the photographer’s words had any impact. And you really didn’t want to bring down the light-hearted, fun energy that your vacation had been full of. You were usually so good at brushing off any unwarranted comments, which were usually inevitable seeing as your boyfriend had such a large fanbase. There was no way everyone was going to like you, and you could cope with that. It wasn’t like you hadn’t been doing so for ages now. But whether it was the alcohol you’d already consumed, or something else – you just couldn’t stop thinking about what the man had spat at you.

Tom’s body shifts beneath you, holding out a hand for you to take as you both rise from the luxurious chaise. Shaking your head out of your daze, you smile softly as you grasp his hand and haul yourself up.

“We’ll see you guys tomorrow okay. Thanks for tonight boys, and sorry for ruining it.”

“Tom, you didn’t-” Tom waved them off with a shrug, before sliding his arms across your shoulder and entwining your fingers at the other side.

“Night guys.” It came out as more of a whisper, as you processed to walk with Tom up to your floor, your head nestling gently into his collarbone.

****

The hotel room was suffocating.

You lay on your side, facing the firmly locked balcony doors. The room was cold. The air conditioning incessant with its obnoxious whirring. There was a rustle. The thin cotton sheets slide across your body as Tom hops in next to you.

“I’m sorry.”

His soft words caused your entire tension-filled body to exhale.

“Tom.”

You turned to face him. His eyes were closed, tiny creases etched into the space between his eyebrows. Tom didn’t like being vulnerable, you knew he was staving off his true feelings – the striking anger that was coursing through his body. Gently smoothing the creases out with your fingers, he leaned ever so slightly into your touch.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault.”

You pressed a soft kiss on his brow bone before settling in next to him, bodies warm to the touch.

“I love you. You know that, right? Whatever they’re all saying, it’s rubbish.”

The lump in your throat that you had been impressively swallowing down all evening came back to the surface, the pressure building.

“How did you know?”

He shrugged.

“I saw some of the comments.”

The pictures had been released pretty quickly. By the time you had all arrived back to the hotel they were already circulating across the internet, which people took as the perfect opportunity to hurl insults at your social media pages.

He shifts his head to the left to look at you, eyes softening.

“Hey. You can let it out. It’s just me. C’mon.”

You curl further into him, as his lips caress your forehead.

“People suck.” You mumble into his chest as he wraps himself around you, lightly trailing his fingers up and down your arm, the skin bursting with tiny goose bumps. You revelled in the soothing comfort.

“Sometimes I just forget. I forget that there are thousands – maybe even tens of thousands - of people out there who just don’t like me,” Tom squeezes you that little bit tighter, “And it’s okay. I don’t mind, really. I just wish they didn’t have to be so vocal about it – about how I look, how I act, how I dress. About whether I’m good enough.”

“You are good enough. You’re more than good enough. You’re amazing.”

Your lips pull up into a small smile as you look into those concerned brown eyes.

“You’re biased.”

He let out a small huff, chest vibrating beneath you, “Am not.” He sighed, those fluffy brows saying a thousand words, “I’m supposed to make all that crap better, not make you feel worse because of some so-called fans on the internet, and those stupid idiot paps; I’m so sorry.”

“Maybe if you just…weren’t so damn attractive. That would help.”

You both laughed.

“Oh, really?”

You nodded, as he pulled you in, peppering more soft kisses along your temple until he made his way down to your mouth.

“You’re ridiculous. And beautiful.”

Another kiss.

“And smart.”

Another kiss.

“And kind.”

Another kiss. “And I am so in love with absolutely everything about you. You’re enough. You’re everything.”

You felt your eyes glossing over. Scrunching your nose to avoid an onslaught of overdue tears, you felt Tom move beneath the covers – his arms wrapping around your torso, his curly messy hair resting on your stomach.

“I love you too.”

[cardnompfs]

Me and @fastfur07 had an art trade recently, and i would be uploading them..! Here's my Part, Featuring some of my headmates eheh..! And their distinct taste-

[dlthedescent]

TWENTY-FOUR: LOOSE ENDS

“Bzzt!” 

Static resounded in Jack's ear like an unwanted worm. 

“Jack. What a surprise.”

She ignored the dulcet tones snaking their way into the comms. If GRE had surveillance devices, then Alexander would certainly have seized them for his own benefits. 

So hijacking the channel was child’s play. 

It was nothing but stalling. The criminal lord’s loyal mutts hounded after her and Freakazoid. Some tried to climb the rooftops, one cutting close to grabbing the woman in red.

Only for the bloke to get roped by the hooded man instead and be pulled right off the edge. He plummeted, splat onto the bloodied pavement - another misguided soul removed from the face of a shattered city.

“Not only have you been putting your nose into my business, but you’ve got yourself an interesting-looking pet.”

Crane could have protested - snap at him and say “Who are you calling a pet?” The way this convict accentuated that name…actually made his thick skin crawl. 

“You haven’t lost your touch,” Alexander droned.

“I don’t disappoint.” A jab back at him, even though Jack knew it wouldn’t make a dent.

“Hm,” he hummed, ruffled. “I could spend the next minute asking questions. But you know how business is.”

"There she is!"

BANG!

A bullet strayed past her head the moment she slid down the asphalt shingle and ducked behind an air-con vent. 

“You're kidnapping people and testing them for the Harran Virus. What's more to it?” Right to the point, Jack had never held back her punches.

“Is that why you’ve been snooping around?” Alexander countered. Feigning his shock. “Heroism is not your shtick.”

She dashed around her hiding place. The shifting shadows gave it away - a convict trying to get the jump on her first stared right back at the woman with shock.

The close distance became his disadvantage as a sharp parry to his dominant arm rendered him helpless with a hard, brutal shove of his head to the vent.

THUD!

“Always modest. But that’s also one of your biggest flaws,” Alexander continued to drone. “Ever heard the phrase, ‘the need of the many outweighs the need of the few’?”

He added a chuckle as if he found it hilarious. 

“Everyone wants a solution to this pandemic. What’s so bad about a few infected people helping out our cause?” he explained with no shred of morals. “We only live once.” 

Always reasoning people. Bring them to his vision. And putting that fine print in between the lines.

It’s easy to lose a life anytime, anywhere.

“Watch your back, Jack,” Alexander warned. “Because this time, I won’t give favors.”

There was a history Crane couldn’t deny in the lines. From everything he’s been learning about the current news in Scanderoon, the man named Alexander has made ‘his business’ even before Kyle regained his humanity. And almost mirroring his own problematic deal with Rais, Jack also had treaded carefully - or vivaciously with intent - around this guy’s feet.

But the thing about favors…

“And I’ll be sure to take that pet off ya,” the Greek convict pointed with fascination in his voice.

“Give it your best shot.”

Freakazoid shouldn’t have done that - but Jack didn’t try to stop him. 

One startled laugh escaped from the comms. Then came the excited, loud burst. A surprise to Alexander in the middle of everything, hearing first-hand something that should have been deemed fiction.

“So he talks?!” he gushed. “He really talks!”

To Crane, hearing a man cackle like that made him growingly uncomfortable, sprouting out Greek words of excitement. If this was Rais, he would definitely jump to the idea of capturing a sentient infected. 

Jack, however, drowned out the bellowing. Kept her feet going, eyes up front. The furthest they were away from that man, the better.

He was entertained. And a pleased Valchos was the last thing Jack wanted.

“Oooh…” Alexander ended with the same, usual reticent tone. “Keep making this interesting, Jack.”

And like that, the chase crawled to an end - either the convicts had given up or the duo had indeed killed a great number on the go. Anti-climatic, disconcerting and yet, reassuring at the same time.

Jack scouted back to see themselves far from the outpost. It had been on the spur of the moment when she just decided to go one direction and didn’t look back. 

That also meant Ender and Riza headed off in their own directions, away from the danger.

“Ender. Riza. You two all right?” Jack quickly called over the comms. 

It took a few seconds for any response, clutching at her worry. Then she felt it lift off once she heard Ender’s voice. 

“We’re good,” he assured through bated breath. “Got Peri and the kid to a safe place.”

"You didn't see any infected in robes?"

An odd question that Freakazoid picked on but left the other speakers puzzled.

"Robes?" Ender repeated.

"Are we talking about those cultists?" Riza intruded. "Didn't see them."

Jack didn't go into context, uncertain on what she had seen…

She moved on. Some other time on this strange story.

"Whole neighborhood's a mess now." The aftermath of their little trespassing could be seen over the urban landscape; smoke and wails in the distance.

“We can take these two back to the Junction.” No play on words, not witty banter from Riza either. The two Grads had their priorities already set that lighthearted talk could be done another time.

“Don’t stop for anything.” 

The silence comforted Jack that they’d follow through. No matter what, they couldn’t get caught. Not when Alexander was in that kind of mood now…

“So.”

She wheeled back to her partner. 

“Not only do you have GRE looking for you. But you also have the most dangerous man after your head… What did you do before you met me?”

She ushered her usual, nonchalant laugh. “There’s a lot of things I’ve done.”

“Shocking,” he countered out loud.

“Isn't it better to keep your friends close and your enemies closer?"

“You don’t see this as a problem.”

“Never have. I see this as an opportunity.”

“Opportunity,” Crane finished just as she said it. He almost was in rhythm with Jack - a scary thought to be ending her sentences. “Remember that when you’re six feet under and I’m put in a cage again.”

Again, Jack shrugged it off. There was a fine difference between being overconfident and being too gutless - but he kept that to himself.

“You can’t stay in Scanderoon.”

And who decided that? However, Jack refrained from saying it. She thought it over; she knew full well before she left the Outskirts that she’d have to make both friends and foes. She just didn’t anticipate seeing an old face...

“Technically, my contract with the Junction is finished.” She glanced at Freakazoid with the usual grin. “I got the Day Hunter. Found Crybaby. And we put a stop to those disappearances.”

Jack strode about casually as she pondered to a conclusion...

“Why not?" she said to herself. "We can go sightseeing some other place.”

Crane huffed. “You mean Harran.”

“It’s not like I can go anywhere else, can I?”

Crane didn’t rebuke back at the jesting joust. It did leave him in knots but…

This was it. Things had slowed down but now, nothing held Jack back. After all, her destination had been Harran from the start.

Looking over the circumstances now, a trip there might be for the better. Until things could cool down. 

Maybe.

“So. Think you can hold off on your own for a while?”

That offer… Jack may be the most unreadable and enigmatic person to him. But never had she forcefully tug on his leash to do her bidding, not like Rias. Above all, Crane had shown her many times he didn’t want to go back to Harran.

He couldn’t stop her. Nor could he stall for time. Or reject the one request he’s been given the entire time: be her Lifeline all the way.

“And leave you to do something reckless?” he complained. “Hard pass.”

The brunette chuckled. “So you’re not sick of me?”

No rebuttal. That didn’t mean he wasn’t at times.

“Then it’s settled.”

The sudden ‘final verdict’ nearly took him by surprise - underneath his scarf, he grew more worried.

“First thing first, the Junction. Can’t just up and disappear on them,” she uttered. “Then we’ll head for Harran.”

Crane felt…disheartened.

“Yeah… Harran.”

Story continues on at these links: FFN and AO3.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

The Long Con Part Nine

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader Rating: T Notes: I hope y’all had a good week! 💕 Warnings: Cursing, fluff, me pretending that I know literally anything about art history or art forgery— again. Summary: You wound up spending much of the day holed up in Marcus’ room, sitting at his desk with the numerous print-outs, a marker, a notebook, and his laptop. 

You offered to help Marcus with the wedding errands that needed to be done, but he could see how distracted you were by the print-outs he’d been able to get of the x-rays and craquelure of Leda and the Swan. He shook his head, nodding to where you’d already set up shop at his desk. “Don’t worry about wedding stuff today,” He reassured, smiling. Then he tipped your head up for a quick peck and left.

You wound up spending much of the day holed up in Marcus’ room, sitting at his desk with the numerous print-outs, a marker, a notebook, and his laptop. You looked for comparisons between the x-rays of the Mona Lisa, Da Vinci’s sketches of Leda, and the other reproductions that you were more familiar with. Jill actually had to come up and draw you out of the room by taking Marcus’ laptop charging cord hostage. 

When Marcus returned that evening, he found you folding programs with laser focus. 

“Having fun?” He teased, settling down beside you on the floor. You were leaning back against the couch, as you had when you and Marcus had been putting the favors together. 

“Mhm,” You hummed lightly, peering down at the program and lining up the corners of the paper before smoothing down the middle. Marcus picked up an unfolded program, beginning to fold them as you did. 

“How were um-- Errands, how’d they… You know?” You asked absently. “They were fine. Tuxes have been acquired, venue’s got the final headcount, seating chart and favors, photographer’s got the shot list.” “Has Marnie called the hotel they’re staying at and found out if there was an upgrade available?” You glanced at Marcus, “Might be able to get something if she mentions it’s her wedding weekend.” Marcus’ brows rose. “I don’t think she has, but I’ll find out.” “Should probably check in with wherever the rehearsal dinner is being held, too,” You added, turning back to the programs. “I’ll keep that in mind...Are you okay?” Marcus asked as you dropped another folded program atop the pile. “Mhm.” “Hey,” Marcus reached out, setting his hand on your arm. You glanced over at him. “S’wrong?” “You seem a little tense,” He scooched closer, thigh pressing against yours, “I can take over program folding,” He added. “She’s mad at me,” Jill called from the kitchen. “I am not mad!” You called back. “What happened?” Marcus frowned, glancing between the two of you. Jill came into the living room, leaning over the back of the couch and peering down at the two of you. “I made her come out from hunching over those photos that you printed out this morning,” She told Marcus as you pointedly folded another program. Busted. “How long were you in there?” Marcus asked, rubbing his hand over the back of your neck gently. “Since you left. I only got the damn cord away from her half an hour ago,” Jill answered, pushing off of the couch, “Speakin’a which, you hungry, Marky?” You snickered, muttering, “Marky.” “No thanks, mom.” “What about you, honey?” “No thank you, Jill,” You glanced back, offering her a smile before dropping another program atop the pile. Marcus watched her go before he leaned a little closer. “Were you able to work anything out?” He asked, picking up another page. “Nothing substantive,” You grumbled, folding the page and setting it aside. Marcus set his on the pile before he drew you into his chest. You pouted a little, slouching against him as you reached for the next page. “You know I’ve got the team working on this, too, right? And the team working out of the Louvre.” “I know,” You mumbled. “So relax,” Marcus murmured, turning his head and pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m incredibly relaxed. I’m also very focused on folding these programs.” “Sweetheart, programs do not need to be that perfect.” 

“Agree to disagree.” You felt Marcus’ fingers tuck under your chin and turn your head to look at him. You paused in your folding, blinking up at him. “You sure you’re alright?” He asked gently. You were not— but what was one more lie in this house? “Yeah,” You murmured before you leaned up, taking a chance and pecking Marcus’ lips. You felt him smile as he cupped your cheek, keeping you close as he deepened the kiss. You sighed, relaxing a little more and resting a hand on his thigh. As the kiss broke, you rested your head against his neck, closing your eyes as Marcus rubbed his hand over your shoulder. “...Feel better?” He asked quietly. “I think so.” “I can do that anytime,” He added after a moment, and you smiled, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

-- “You still doing that?” Marcus asked. “Hm?” You glanced back at him, catching sight of him in his pajamas. Jill had relinquished the laptop cord shortly after dinner, and Marcus had freed you of program-folding duty. “What...Time is it?” You asked, frowning. “It’s a little after midnight,” Marcus walked over to stand behind you, bracing his hands on the back of your chair and looking over your work, “You comin’ to bed?” You knew that you should— it had been a long day (after Jill had finally ceded the charging cord), and you were a bit tired. “Uh… N--No, not yet—” “C’mon,” Marcus murmured, leaning down and wrapping his arms around your shoulders, “You need to get some sleep.” “I know, I’m gonna, I just— I think I’m really close to something here,” You admitted, looking up at Marcus, “I wanna chase it down. I’ll take it into the living room so the light doesn’t keep you up,” You added, starting to gather up some of the materials. “If you’re sure,” Marcus conceded softly, “But get some sleep, huh?” “I will.” “Promise?” You glanced up at Marcus, smiling. “Promise.” He nodded, leaning in and pressing a kiss to your forehead before heading to bed. 

-- 

You leaned away from the markups on the coffee table, dropping your marker with a shaky hand. 

You’d made a call to where she’d been sent, and found out she had had her sentence shortened. She’d been out for nearly three years— she’d missed parole; there was a warrant out for her arrest. You hadn’t wanted to believe it was her work, you hadn’t, but you’d found the messages she always left. One was in the x-rayed under layers of the wreath of flowers around the swan’s neck: ‘Dominus ad ludere’. And then, another x-rayed layer, within one of the grey layers of the painting, near the darkened fold of the swan’s wing: ‘Ad opus domini’. The master at play, the master at work.  The lettering was small, difficult to spot, but you knew that handwriting, and you knew exactly where to look. You couldn’t help the sick, twisting feeling in your stomach as you picked up your phone. You grabbed your notebook where you’d jotted down your notes on the sketches and brushstrokes, the notes that she’d left behind, and you hurried out to the porch. You sat on the porch swing, peering out into the dark and settling your notebook on your lap. You tucked the phone against your ear, listening as it rang. “Special Agent Melinda Yuen,” Came the answer when the phone was picked up. You were fond of Marcus’ colleague; aside from Marcus, she was who you’d worked the closest with. “Hi, Mel, it’s me,” You said quietly, glancing toward the door. “Hey, professor! How ya been?” “Fine,” You smiled a little at her question, “You?” “I’m alright. If you’re calling looking for Marcus—” “No, I… I wanted to talk to you. Marcus sent me some of the stuff from that da Vinci picked up in Orléans. I took a look at it, it’s definitely not authentic.” “You got notes?” “You have a pen? I’m going to tell you exactly where to look.” You listed off the points and layers that you were able to identify, as well as the suspect for her to look into. Melinda went quiet on the other end for a moment. “Professor, isn’t that your grandm—” “Yes,” You answered hurriedly, “It is.” “...Shit.” “My feelings exactly— Look, Mel, I’ve gotta ask you a favor.” “Sure.” “Don’t...Don’t tell Marcus who called this in until he’s back in D.C.” “Why not?” “Just, please?” You pleaded softly, glancing toward the door. “...I don’t know, professor—” “I’m not asking you to keep it from him forever, just-- Couple’a days.”

“Alright,” Melinda sighed softly, before, “How do you know when he’ll be back, anyway?” “Oh, he uh— mentioned he was going to his sister’s wedding. I don’t wanna ruin his weekend, you know. Figured if I got you on the first ring on this number he must be down there, ‘specially with this big of a case in the office,” You fibbed quickly. “You figure correctly,” Melinda chuckled, “I’ll get these notes over to the team. Night, professor.” “Night, Mel, and thanks.” “Hey, thank you.” You lowered your phone, hanging it up and peering out over the backyard again. You sighed softly, pushing the swing back and forth with one foot. “Can’t sleep?” You jumped at the sound of the question, huffing a shaky laugh at the sight of Marnie. “No,” You confirmed, “What about you?” “Nope,” Marnie sighed, walking over to sit beside you, “I was working on my vows.” “Big speech-writing day in the Pike household,” You teased. “That Marcus’?” Marnie nodded to your notebook. “O-Oh! No. Some uh… Stuff on that painting. Inconsistencies, little things,” You set the notebook down between the two of them, giving Marnie the option to pick it up. She left it be, giving you a little bit of relief in what had been a mostly hellish day. “Think it’s serious?” You shrugged, “Could be inconsequential.” You were already lying to Marnie so much, what was one more? Though, frankly, it made you feel a little crummy. You were growing very fond of Marcus’ family. They were warm, and welcoming. You’d always imagined having a family like them. “You and Marcus seem good, you know?” Marnie said, nudging your shoulder with hers, “I mean...Happy.” You smiled, lowering your eyes. “Your brother is... amazing. All of you are, I mean— I don’t know any family that would open their home to someone they don’t know for a night, let alone an entire week. And your mom— the way she pulled me out of Marcus’ room earlier,” The two of you chuckled, “Well. I’ve appreciated everything since I’ve been here, how kind you all have been.” “Oh,” Marnie reached out, patting your hand lightly, “We’re happy to. ‘Sides, Marcus is clearly smitten with you.” Your stomach churned with unease as you peered down at your hands. Marcus was a better actor than he gave himself credit for. You knew you’d make a liar out of him. “Makes two of us,” You mumbled. Damn, but that was the truth. Tag list: @hufflepuffing-all-day-long ; @spideysimpossiblegirl ; @blueeyesatnight ; @elen-aranel ; @yespolkadotkitty ; @artsymaddie ; @phoenixhalliwell ; @lunaserenade ; @winniedaboo  ; @empress-palpat1ne ; @randomness501 ; @nutmeg-20 ; @leonieb ; @the-feckless-wonder ; @lou-la-lou ; @captain-jebi ; @supernaturalgirl ; @naturenebula21 ; @evelynseventyr ; @giselatropicana ; @heatherbel ; @marydjarin ; @annathewitch ; @absurdthirst ; @hnt-escape ; @writingletterstothefire ; @misswriter ; @bison-writes ; @xx-small-town-witch-xx ; @ajeff855 ; @hellovanessax​ ; @drinkingwhileblogging​ ; @strawberryperegrine​ ; @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan​

[vitafurtiva]

Atlas ran through a list of things in his head. Had he had enough to eat? Did he have his phone, Sloane’s keys, the whiskey? The container of sliders on the counter he knew he could grab just before they left. There was a pricking in the back of his head. He chewed his thumbnail, considering what he needed to do still, weighing the pros and cons of drinking more blood, just in case. The ring Rory had given him was on a cord around his neck, tucked under his shirt. It would be the first time he’d been able to be in the sun in a long time.  Sloane poked their head into the living room, still half dressed, hair still wet from their shower. “You ready?” They asked, adjusting the bathing suit top. He couldn’t quite keep himself from ogling for a moment.  “Hm? Yeah, just about. Are you?” He asked, grabbing the keys to Sloane’s car.  “Grabbing my shoes and my Bag of Holding and then I think so.” She responded, bracing one hand against the wall as she pulled on her shoes. The Bag of Holding in question contained a blanket for sitting on, a few bottles of water and one of his flannel shirts that they’d stolen from him eons ago.  “I’m driving,” he insisted, grabbing the container of sliders from the kitchen counter and moving toward the door.  “Yeah, yeah. I’m driving home,” they responded.  “Nuh-uh. That’s me too.” He opened the door to let her pass him and then turned and locked the door behind him as he left.  *** He’d forgotten about the checkpoint, but was pleased to see Ray there. Sloane was just behind him as he approached the detective, a smile breaking onto his features. “’Ey! Sucks they’ve got you workin’ today. Got someone you’ve been wantin’ to meet. This is Aut- er, Sloane.”  Sloane stopped just behind him, and pulled her sunglasses off, choosing to place them on her head rather than over her eyes. Her dark eyes met Ray’s as she looked him over for a moment, trying to hide a smile. “You must be Ray. Joey told me about you.”  Atlas turned and pressed a quick kiss to Sloane’s temple and her face broke into a full grin. “If you find time later, come find us. I made some buffalo chicken sliders that Sloane’s trying to hoard for herself. And whiskey.”  @detectivegoldstein

[system-of-a-feather]

Was sending this to a mutual but I’m proud of my Evil and Bad Persecutor™ move here so I felt I would share how Evil and Bad™ I am being and how Psychopathic and Narcissistic™ I am.

You see, Riku and I randomly went off the deep-end and got stuck in a loop of triggering each other and thus getting really tense and we like, do that from time to time when we aren’t supervised or checked in on by another part. Ray ended up hitting us on the head, scolding us and telling us how we’re dumb then prescribed us “healthy hang out times” so we can get back to being on the same page and not destroying each other which included us playing Kingdom Hearts Re:CoM.

Which for those that don’t know is #source for both of us. That game in particular is probably one of the largest say like - three - specific “eras” of KH we were from, and I’m like a mixed bag of the “darker Rikus” but like, largely Repliku. ANYWAYS, KH bullshit aside, Riku’s been playing the majority of it cause I couldn’t care for the disney worlds (and I don’t think they do much either at least in Re:CoM but they have more tolerance for it) and they struggle with the weird card system combat system and I’m like “lol bet I’m better than you at it”

And like Riku isn’t really that big of a “oh Im a great gamer” or even too particularly competitive (unless its like, Pokemon or some shit) and actually enjoys watching others play games and since we can actually co-con relatively easily they were like “aight you can deal with these bosses I’m struggling with / are annoying” and I’m actually significantly better at handling the card combat system

Anyways, so I was blowing through a few annoying bosses - Jafar, Larxene, yada yada, figure before I close up for the day I’d quickly blow through the 100 Acre Minigames and much to my surprise, the very next boss after finishing 100 Acres.... was me.

And so I had to pause and laugh at it for a bit cause man I don’t wanna fight myself man. Its not me but ya know, it also kinda is? And I was like hm..... You know I think this is a GREAT place to close up for the day.

I’m sure it would be great to just let Riku have fun with this boss. I’m sure it would be great to let Riku just sit there and get frustrated since they - in their own words - are admittedly not that good at this game’s combat system.

I’m sure it would be pretty funny to sit and snicker at “game me” just kicking Riku’s ass over and over.

I’m actually even more sure it’ll be funnier when we unlock Riku’s (character) route and literally get to have Riku VS Repliku.

This was a great idea Ray. 10/10 lets me be a petty toxic bitch in a way that really isn’t problematic / a big deal and just a large troll.

Cause honestly, big bitch energy is strong with me and I gotta let it out somehow.

-XIV 

[mythrilhusk]

Korosensei Never Dies - Chapter 5

Words: 1689 Ao3 Version Chapter 4 (Last)

Chapter 6 (Next)

AN: This is NOT RPF, this story is based solely on the characters of Dream SMP, not the people playing them.

====

It's a hobby some would call obsessive or even creepy. Wilbur Soot doesn't care what anyone thinks, it's his world and everyone else is just living in it. His pencil scrawls on the page, scratching black onto white.

--Tommy needs encouragement. He's latched onto Philza as a fath- role model worryingly fast. Have I not been enough for him? He told me he wants to kill Technoblade, but I could see the lie in his eyes. He's too kind, and now he's being torn in two directions. Should I ease the strain? Or should I see how long it takes for him to break?--

Wilbur doesn't care what others think of him. His sly gaze flickers from person to person, lingering on the bright ray of sunshine that is Tommy. 

--Tubbo worries me. He's been mostly silent ever since Technoblade showed up. Is he planning something?-- 

--Eret wants to kill Technoblade purely for the money. I saw the way their eyes lit up at the bounty. Which brings to mind another question. Why hasn't anyone outside of this class actually tried to kill Technoblade?--

--Ranboo never lets go of that notebook. I could swear it had a different cover. He's creepy. Avoid him.--

--Quackity has an intense grudge against Technoblade. But he's always with his gang, so I haven't been able to talk to him.--

--Hannah Rose started sparring with Foolish and Charlie last week. She's good. Too good. I don't trust her.--

--I can't get a read on Sapnap. He's always with Quackity, so I never have a chance to have a nice little chat, a good old tete-a-tete.--

--Connor wants to kill Technoblade. Boring.--

--Charlie hasn't shown any bent towards one side or another. He goes around with his saccharine "humour" and fails all his quizzes like he doesn't want Philza to train us. Maybe I should get him expelled.--

--Foolish says strange things. I don't like him.--

Wilbur pauses when he's finished silently dissing all his fellow students. The teachers are next. 

--Ponk just sort of showed up one day and then stayed as the math teacher. His quizzes are so goddamn annoying. He hasn't shown any signs of wanting to kill Technoblade, though.--

--Punz was here for like a day, and then was sent to the hospital as the result of Techno's completely just and righteous defense of Philza. Unknown if he will find the guts to return or not.--

--Philza. Ah, Philza. Mere words can not convey the sheer respect I have for that man's dedication to chaos. Why, just the other day, I saw him feeding birds as they perched on him. He then used them for target practice. Magnificent. If we all endeavor to succeed in our classes, he will teach us how to kill his friend.--

--Technoblade is an enigma. Seriously. Does this mutant man ever sleep? By all accounts, he should be a terrible teacher, yet somehow he finds the time and tenacious willpower to teach all the subjects in a concise and understandable way. Not to mention his casual sprinkling of anarchy propaganda. I wish to know his secrets. I will drag them out of him if need be.--

"Whatcha writing?" Tommy inquires. 

"Nothing!" Grinning innocently, Wilbur snaps his notebook closed. 

"Is it about me? Are you writing how good I am at luv?" 

"No, Tommy." Wilbur ruffles his friend's fluffy hair, ignoring Tommy's complaints. "I'm writing a diary. You can't read it." 

"Fuck off, I'll write my own diary!" 

Wilbur smiles and sits back, listening to Tommy rant. It would be interesting, wouldn't it, to see how he deals with the conundrum of looking up to Philza while being pressured to kill Technoblade. Wilbur can't wait to see him break. 

++++

Badboyhalo paces in the Duckling's treehouse, wincing with every step. Antfrost binds George's wounds. "This has gone too far, Bad!" George complains. 

"Shut up! I know we can think of something!" 

"Our reputation is on the line! If anybody looks even slightly deeper into our pasts, we're all screwed." 

"Shut up!" Bad screeches. "We are Professional Assassins, that's all we ever have been, and nobody is going to question it unless you two screw up again!" 

Antfrost glowers, tightening a bandage on George's arm. "You screwed up, too." 

"How was I supposed to know?? He's a highschool student, a teenager, he shouldn't be good at fighting!!" 

"He's better than us. You think Dream taught him?" George tries to scratch at his bandages, but Antfrost smacks his hand away. 

"I don't know, you muffinheads, but we need to figure something out. Maybe take some martial arts classes." 

"You want us to go back to school??" 

"No! Yes?? Maybe? I don't know." Bad replies miserably. "We've gotta get outta here before Quackity and his gang show up." 

"Too fucking late." Quackity snarls behind Bad, dropping through the window. "Why the fuck didn't your motherfucking special weapons do a single goddamned thing??" 

"Language," Bad mutters half-heartedly. 

"Why the fuck are you buffoons planning to take classes for fighting?? You said you were professionals!!" 

"That is true, we are professionals. But we may have been a teensy bit misleading about our line of work." 

Quackity's scowl darkens and he draws his revolver. "I want blood, Bad. I want your blood so motherfucking badly right now. Fucking tell me the truth." 

Bad raises his hands, heart in his throat. "Wait, wait! I- we're not actually assassins, okay? We're just, uhh, our business is in, uhh-" 

Quackity cocks the gun. His eyes show no hint of mercy. 

"Wait-wait-wait-" Bad cries, trembling. "We're just con-men! It's our business! We go around, telling people we can take care of whatever their problem is, then we take the money and dip! Haha!" 

"We bit off a bit more than we could chew when President Skeppy paid us to help you kill Technoblade." George sighs. "Go ahead and shoot Bad, he's our leader. It was all his idea." 

"N-no!!" Bad screeches, glaring at George. "Don't shoot!! Please!" 

"Fuck you." Quackity flicks open the casing and empties the bullets onto the table. "Fuck you and your motherfucking lies. You don't even have a supplier, do you?" 

"No, we stole the prototype weapons from HBomb's lab!" 

"I'll forgive you on one condition." Quackity gives them a small, hard smile. "Break into the lab and get us actual weapons that'll actually fucking work on Techno. Nothing explosive, just knives and guns."  

"Deal." Antfrost says. "Do we still get a cut?" 

"Ten percent, but that's only if you don't fuck up again." 

"Ten??" Bad cries, forgetting his former fear. "That's only one billion!!" 

"That's about a billion times more than you fucking deserve, so don't test me, assholes."

Bad clenches his fists. Quackity is just a kid. He's just one kid. Bad, Antfrost, and George could easily win. 

But that's what they thought about Ranboo. Bad huffs. "Deal." 

++++

Creeping around in the forest is not exactly what Awesamdude expected his career to lead to. But here he is, laying down a perimeter, alone. 

Not quite alone, however. The two kids stalking him could do with some more practice staying silent. He's already learned their names from their hissing whispers. 

"Niki, Jack, you shouldn't be here." He straightens after planting another post in the ground. 

A girl with violently pink hair drops down from a tree. A boy with clashing heterochromatic sunglasses hops up from behind a stump, brushing the leaves off himself. "How'd you know we were there?" Jack whines. 

"You were hardly quiet." 

"What're you doing?" Niki crosses her arms, scowling. 

"Do you want to die?" Sam asks darkly. He's bluffing, of course. He wouldn't kill innocents. 

"Can you kill people?" Jack asks, excited. 

"I could, if I wanted to." 

"Can you kill Technoblade??" 

"No." 

"Why isn't anyone else trying?" 

"His location was a secret." Sam sighs. "It's not anymore, but I'm going to ensure nobody else interferes." 

"How are kids expected to kill an immortal??" Niki cries. "Why is the bounty so high?? Why is he teaching school instead of rotting in a prison??" 

"Curious, aren't you." Sam scratches his head. "Well, I suppose I can answer the first two. You're not expected to kill him, you're being used to keep him in line. And the bounty is so high because he wanted it that high." 

Niki glares at Sam. Jack's expression is unreadable behind his sunglasses. "Why-"

"Shoo." Sam waves a hand at them. "Go home before I lose my patience." 

The two converse for a moment in hushed whispers. Then, simultaneously, they cry, "Teach us to kill Technoblade!" 

Sam represses a smile. "No." 

"Why not??" 

"Because I have a job to do, and that involves not interfering." 

"Is President Skeppy stalling??" Niki snaps.

"I can't answer that." Sam raises his crossbow upon hearing cautious footsteps sneaking past in the shadows of the trees. Niki and Jack both leap back into cover, but Sam ignores them. "Show yourself, or I put an arrow through your ribs." 

"Please don't." Another teen steps out, raising his hands. The hidden weapons on his person wouldn't be obvious to someone less experienced, but are painfully visible to Sam. 

"What are you doing out here?" 

"I don't know?" The teen replies plaintively. "I was just taking a walk." 

"Hm." Sam lowers the crossbow slightly. He activates the sensors in his false eye with a blink, scanning the teen. The scan glitches and sends a flash of pain through his skull. "Agh!" 

"Are you okay, sir?" The teen steps forward. Warning bells chime in the back of Sam's mind, danger, danger, but Sam ignores them. This is just a kid. He's harmless. 

"I'm fine. You should go home." 

"Oh." The boy lowers his hands and opens the book he was holding. For a moment, Sam's eye glitches again, and the boy's form distorts; scales crawl across the boy's arms, twelve wings fold like fractals- Sam winces at the twinge of pain and the hallucinations fade. "I have a home, now." The boy mutters, and then wanders off. 

Sam sighs and continues his job of setting up a fence around the school building for class 3-E. Niki and Jack have scampered off already. He's alone again.

Chapter 6 (Next)

[nerianasims]

Billboard #1s 1984

Under the cut.

Yes -- "Owner of a Lonely Heart" -- January 21, 1984

The full version of this song is way too long. Not surprising from a former prog rock band. The music is good and interesting, but it loses me before the end even in the shorter single version. There's too much stuff. As for the lyrics, maybe that prog rock gloss made people think they were profound, but they look like self-help. Some incredibly 80s Reagan-era individualism, better to be alone than to be hurt, you're the only one you can count on, blah blah blah. Not for me. 'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.

Culture Club -- "Karma Chameleon" -- February 4, 1984

The video to this song has nothing to do with it, unless there's supposed to be a connection between the con artist on the fantasy world 19th century steamboat and the guy who keeps coming and going whom Boy George is singing to. And I didn't fully realize the "you come and go" double entendre until just now. I like the video, anyway. And I like the song quite a bit. It's a very cheerful-sounding song about being strung along by some asshole.

Van Halen -- "Jump" -- February 25, 1984

Van Halen was something boys were into. It's weird how we delineate these things. At least back in 1984, if it got coded as a boy thing, then if you were a girl and also found it interesting, you'd damn well better hide it or certain other more socially powerful kids would tear you to shreds. That was my experience, anyway. (And if other girls were into it and you were not, you were also in serious trouble.) So though when I heard Van Halen songs I thought, "hm, I'm intrigued," I did not dare pursue that interest. Except for this song. This one was allowed. It's fun.

Kenny Loggins -- "Footloose" -- March 31, 1984

Footloose is a pretty good movie. At least I remember it being so when I eventually saw it in college in the 90s. Anything that stands against censorship, and for art and people having fun, already has an in with me. Also Kevin Bacon's great. The song isn't about the movie particularly; it's just about how dancing is wonderful. Though there is a hint at the movie: "You're playing so cool/ Obeying every rule/ Deep way down in your heart/ You're burning yearning for some/ Somebody to tell you/ That life ain't passing you by/ I'm trying to tell you/ It will if you don't even try." Yeah. Agatha Christie at one point lamented that young people in the 1950s were far too serious and self-righteous, and really needed to go dance in fountains. I feel the same now as she did then. Though wait until after the covid vaccine's been widely taken. Anyway, this is a good dance song.

Phil Collins -- "Against All Odds (Take A Look At Me Now)" -- April 21, 1984

It's a lament about being dumped. Apparently, Collins wrote it about his wife leaving him out of the blue, taking the kids and the dog with her. Ouch. There's a great drum part, which keeps the song from being too boring, but I still don't like it. Phil Collins' serious love/heartbreak songs don't do it for me. I find this one depressing without being cathartic.

Lionel Richie -- "Hello" -- May 12, 1984

I remember this video from when it was on the air. Mostly because of the Lionel Richie clay head. But also because I was like... is she his student? Isn't that a bad thing? Even though she's an adult in college, I still thought you weren't supposed to do that? I've had a major squick against teacher/student relationships, even in fiction, since I was a kid. Possibly this is because I come from a family of professors. (I didn't get a PhD and am therefore the black sheep.) Without reference to the video, the song is terrible. The lyrics are just repetitive cheese, whatever, but the song is so slow and blah and I don't like Lionel Richie's singing.

Deniece Williams -- "Let's Hear It For the Boy" -- May 26, 1984

I keep being surprised that there are people who think someone is worthless if they don't have a lot of money and don't dress fashionably. In this song, the titular boy also can't dance, but is that a thing that people get dinged for in reality? I don't know, maybe. This song was in Footloose, and it's the same sentiment as "My Guy"; her boy isn't some smooth-talking rich brat, but "he's my lovin' one-man show." He's like Edward Ferrars, not Willoughby. It's a fun song.

Cyndi Lauper -- "Time After Time" -- June 9, 1984

This is one of the greatest songs ever. Not just pop songs. Any song, of any type.

Duran Duran -- "The Reflex" -- June 23, 1984

These lyrics make no sense. That doesn't matter for this song much, which is all about the music. Which is not the best of Duran Duran's music. For all the many, many, MANY different musical ideas in it, it's actually kinda boring. They'd have done better to simplify. I imagine this sounds something like cocaine feels, though drinking way too many Mountain Dews to pull an all-nighter's my only comparison. Duran Duran were never my favorite, but I do enjoy many of their songs. This one, meh.

Prince -- "When Doves Cry" -- July 7, 1984

Prince only two songs after Cyndi Lauper? Is it my birthday? The song's lyrics start out being about the amazing chemistry between the narrator and "you." That establishes why they're together. Then Prince moves on to how they "scream at each other," and it's what it sounds like "when doves cry." He's accusatory -- "How could you just leave me standing/ Alone in a world so cold?" But then he goes right into thinking maybe it's his fault: "Maybe I'm just too demanding" etc. It's a sexy, thoughtful, and anguished song about a relationship in trouble. I like to think they'll overcome their problems and stop screaming at each other. Trust me, it's very possible. Also the music is great.

Ray Parker Jr. -- "Ghostbusters" -- August 11, 1984

Um. I have no idea how to evaluate this one. I heard it first in the theatre when I saw the movie, but I heard it years after every week when I watched the cartoon. It just... is.

Tina Turner -- "What's Love Got To Do With It" -- September 1, 1984

I have an overwhelming memory of hearing this song when I was alone in the grocery store as a teenager. I have no idea why the memory's so strong. Maybe it was the first time I went to the grocery store by myself? Maybe I ran into a guy I had a huge crush on, though I don't remember that? (If I was 16, that could have been one of any three guys... Romance is my secondary aspiration, after all.) In any case, it's a good song. The attempt to pretend love is a bunch of chemicals and doesn't truly matter is a pretty common one for the broken-hearted. And Tina Turner's great as always.

John Waite -- "Missing You" -- September 22, 1984

Two songs in a row about being in denial over matters of love. Interesting. This isn't the most fascinating song ever, but it's a good solid song about heartbreak that isn't gloopy at all. In the main vocals, Waite keeps insisting "I ain't missing you," but in the background is a soft voice that sings "missing you" over and over. That's a smart artistic move.

Prince and the Revolution -- "Let's Go Crazy" -- September 29, 1984

I liked a lot of pop music when I was 7, but I didn't get Prince. His songs sort of slid out of my brain as a "thing for grownups," and who could understand grownups? He was short and wore fancy outfits, and that's about all that registered. When I hit puberty, though... yeah. This song is more adult than that, though, and I don't mean sexually, though there is plenty of sex in this song. "You better live now/ Before the grim reaper come knocking on your door." The song is about sex, partying, and death. Also Prince was an astonishing guitarist, along with everything else. It's not one of my favorite Prince songs, because the lyrics are pretty depressing and it's super loud, but it's still great.

Stevie Wonder -- "I Just Called To Say I Love You" -- October 13, 1984

I never really listened to the background beep-de-boops in this song before. I've wondered before why this song, with its simple lyrics and melody, didn't bore me. It's the beep-de-boops. They, along with Stevie Wonder's perfect delivery, make this song musically complex. And the simple lyrics, with the more complex musical counterpoints, absolutely work. It helps that this is the kind of thing people really do.

Billy Ocean -- "Caribbean Queen" -- November 3, 1984

That heavy breathing after the line "I get so excited just from her perfume" is unfortunate. Otherwise, it's a song about how he met this "Caribbean Queen" on vacation and she "tamed" him so he's no longer looking for "love on the run." Sure, why not. I'd like a little more story to it, but that's me. It's got a good beat though, and is enjoyable enough as-is.

Wham! -- "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go" -- November 17, 1984

I just realized I don't like this song. The beat and hook are sort of irresistible, and as a dance song the music absolutely works. But there's too much nostalgia about stuff that George Michael actually wasn't old enough to be nostalgic about. He was only 21 at the time, born in 1963, and yet he was singing about Doris Day. You can homage anything at any age, but... meh. And speaking of age, it's kind of a childish song and George Michael's voice was always more on the mature end, even if he was young at the time. For me, it hits a jarring note.

Daryl Hall & John Oates -- "Out of Touch" -- December 8, 1984

The beginning makes it sound like this is gonna be a relatively hard rock song, but that ends after a pretty short time. It's still really loud, with huge drums, and Hall pretty much shouts the song. Hall & Oates were great when they stripped stuff down. All this noise doesn't work for them. There are neat parts when all the noise suddenly stops and there's total silence, but then it goes right back to the rather uninteresting loudness. Not for me.

Madonna -- "Like A Virgin" -- December 22, 1984

And so it begins. Backstory: Madonna went to the same high school as my mother. She was friends (maybe more? he won't talk) with one of my uncles. When my grandmother saw the Like A Virgin album on the rack at the store, she said, "I'm so glad [he] didn't marry that girl." When my mother told me that, my reaction was "Are you kidding? We'd be rich!" But my family cares about PhDs and not money. My uncle ran wild in high school, but eventually became a successful career diplomat (and stopped being a jackass) after the woman he was in love with told him he'd better shape up or else. Also he looks a lot like Guy Ritchie, so that was weird for a while. I'd be in the grocery store and for a second think, "Why's my uncle on The Enquirer with Madonna?"

So anyway, the song. The way Madonna sang it in later iterations, I like it. I can't stand the version that became a #1 hit. The Betty Boop voice is just ugh. I love a lot of Madonna's music, and she would be something of an inspiration to me in later days, with her unapologetic persona as a woman who liked and wanted sex -- and enjoyed shocking the censorious -- but I was 8 at the time. I didn't get any of it, I just knew she sounded squeaky in this song and it bugged me.

BEST OF 1984: "Time After Time" by Cyndi Lauper. WORST OF 1984: "Hello" by Lionel Richie

[polvillodecanela]

OC TOBER  DAY ONE: Sunrise

In english and spanish under the cut. 

@oc-growth-and-development

Arthur woke up just at dawn. Faint pale rays streamed through the small room window and fell right on the body beside him. Under those warm rays, Indulala's body seemed to glow. It seemed almost magical to him. The magic of Indulala's body had left him a few days ago.

It seemed incredible to him that so little time had passed since they left everything on fire and decided to live this way. It seemed incredible to him that they had survived with little more than their own lives. It seemed, even more incredible, that last night had happened.

He remembered, very vividly - perhaps too much - the exact texture of Indulala's hair in his hands, the ups and downs that his pores made when he kissed a piece of his skin, the sounds - God, the sounds - he never expected to be the receptor, the cause, of those sounds. He smiled. He hoped with all his might that it wasn't the only time he could have the luxury - yes, the luxury - of having time like this with him, just the two alone.

Arthur found himself too focused on the light hitting Indulala’s bare shoulders to notice that there were a pair of eyes staring back at him. He was startled when he felt a finger shyly brush his arm.

"Hey," he said and smiled.

Indulala looked beautiful like this: his long hair severely disheveled, his supernaturally pale cheeks with that blush that only a good night's sleep achieves, his amethyst eyes awake and alert, but with a veil of tranquility. Of desire, Arthur noted with some satisfaction. Indulala was beautiful at night, it seemed that he belonged to the lunar brilliance and the paleness of the stars, but in that yellowish light of the sunrise it seemed to recover every inch of humanity. It made him look so ...

"Beautiful, stunning, incredible," he whispered in his ear.

Indulala smiled.

“Thanks, you're not bad.”

Arthur allowed himself those two seconds of childish laughter that invaded his chest. The other had blushed a little more and seemed to want to cover his body with the sheet. Summer was raging and it seemed that this was an impractical gesture. Still, he supposed, they had been in hotter, more humid summers. He was going to grant him that new armor. For now.

Arthur, then, fell gently onto the bed. He looked at the ceiling and slowly allowed Indulala to lean against his chest. It seemed like he was thinking. Arthur could almost hear Indulala’s thoughts in his head. Almost.

“What’s wrong?”

He waited about two minutes, maybe more. Indulala did not move. He just hugged him tightly.

“ don't get used to it.”

“Hm?”

“On a morning like this”, he paused rather long “things would be different. The routine was very comfortable.”

“Would you rather be teaching than ... here?”

“Oh. No. I think not.”

“You just <<Think>>”, He gently pulled his hair “I did something wrong last night then.”

Two or three heartbeats passed.

“No” Indulala said and his voice sounded supernatural every ounce “it's just that ... I still haven't recovered from what happened.”

“It would be impressive, in a somewhat twisted sense, if you had already done it. It hasn´t been long and I imagine that ... it all fell very quickly for you.”

“Don't you miss them?” He looked at him “your family? They too…”

“I didn't spend much time with them, I’m more hurt for Francis.”

“ I understand.”

The air was starting to get heavy. The sun kept rising slowly. The room had turned a pretty creamy color and the heat was starting to rise too. Under his arm Indulala began to stir with the intention of getting up. Arthur grabbed him closer. He wasn't going to let those seconds go to waste. Very carefully he lifted Indulala’s chin.

“Don't get up”  He said after they kissed.

He kissed Him again. On his lips Arthur could feel that the other was smiling. Indulala's hands melted at the back of his neck. Gently pulling the short hair that was born there. When they parted, Indulala took a rebellious curl and tucked it very carefully behind his ear. He was smiling sweetly. And then Arthur allowed himself to hug him. That pleasure of being able to put his hands on Indulala was another of the thousand things that were incredible to him. How had he lived all those years just fantasizing? How could he have survived all this without taking his hand? Hug him? kiss him? How? He had been too strong and he feared that now that he had everything he wouldn’t be able to live without having it all the time.

Time.

That was another thing that seemed incredible to him. The amount of time in front of him was almost vulgar. Hong had warned him that overthinking the future was going to make him anxious, but he wasn't thinking about the future right now. No. Arthur was thinking about the abstract concept of time, what time would do with them, with him, more than anything. Indulala did not seem to care about time, always keeping the future in close quarters. Fortunately, the aforementioned prevented him from eating his head with mindless worries when, amid a mischievous giggle, he climbed onto his lap and made him sink deeper into the mattress.

“This is a surprise” he said and looked at Indulala who had his hair falling all over the place.

“There will be something I could do to prevent you from looking like this.”

“Like what?”

“As if you wanted to blow the door with your mind.”

“ Can do it?”

Indulala seemed to consider it seriously. Then he moved his head. Denied.

“Without a door there is no ... that”

“What a horrible blackmail.”

“Those were my terms”

Again, Arthur found himself laughing. Laughing like what it was: A young man. There was no tragedy, there was no blood, dramas, souls, gods and demigods. It was just him. The idiot boy who decided to fall in love with the least suitable person. And then there was Indulala who also decided to fall for the really less convenient person. "Look where your curiosity took you, dear." He felt a prick on his cheek. Indulala had made a very uncharacteristic pout.

“Again.”

“I'm sorry, I'm thinking about ... that.”

“I don `t believe you.”

“Why?” He smiled all charismatic.

“Because I'm on your lap. I would know.”

Shameless.

Arthur felt slowly how the heat of his body was directed to two very specific areas.

“Now it seems that you're thinking about that.”

“Where did you get the confidence to talk to me like that? Bold.”

“Sorry, my good lord, but I think that up here I do not get all of your whining.”

This was the last straw, Arhtur used all his strength to straighten up and hug the other in a particularly heated kiss. Using some momentum he managed to swap positions. He had a vague memory - or not so much - of having done that many times last night. Indulala laughed in a stream of sheets, pillows and silver hair. He parted curtain of hair to reveal his face. He was smiling just as shyly as the night before, only he had bold edges that were very new. They suited him well. The blush on his cheeks marked his cheekbones strongly. His eyes were two crescent moons. He kissed Indulala’s lips again. There would be time to face the vast amount of time that lay ahead. There would be time to face the abyss into which they had thrown themselves. In those sweet minutes it would be just them. Nobody else.

____________________________________

Arthur despertó justo al alba. Los tenues rayos pálidos se colaban por la ventana de la pequeña habitación y caían justo sobre el cuerpo a su lado. Bajo aquellos tibios rayos el cuerpo de Indulala parecía brillar. Le parecía casi mágico. La magia del cuerpo de Indulala se había marchado hacia unos días antes.

Le parecía increíble que hubiera pasado tan poco tiempo desde que dejaron todo en llamas y decidieron vivir de esta forma. Le parecía increíble que hubieran sobrevivido con un poco más que sus propias vidas. Le parecía, aún más increíble que lo de anoche hubiera pasado.

Recordó entonces muy vivido – tal vez demasiado – la textura exacta del cabello de Indulala en sus manos, los relieves que sus poros hicieron en el momento en el que besaba algún trozo de piel, los sonidos – dios, los sonidos – nunca esperó ser el receptor, causante, de esos sonidos. Sonrío. Esperó con todas sus fuerzas que no fuera la única vez que pudiera darse el lujo – sí, el lujo – de tener un tiempo así, a solas.

Arthur se encontró demasiado concentrado en como la luz golpeaba sobre los desnudos hombros como para notar que había un par de ojos mirándolo de vuelta. Se sobresaltó cuando sintió un dedo rozando tímidamente su brazo.

-          Hey – dijo y sonrió.

Indulala se veía hermoso así: el largo cabello severamente desordenado, las sobrenaturalmente pálidas mejillas con ese sonrojo que solo una buena noche de sueño logra, los ojos amatista despiertos y alerta, pero con un velo de tranquilidad. De deseo, notó Arthur con cierta satisfacción. Indulala era hermoso en las noches, parecía que pertenecía al brillo lunar y la palidez de las estrellas, pero, en aquella luz amarillenta del amanecer parecía recobrar cada centímetro de humanidad. Lo hacía ver tan…

-          Hermoso, despampanante, increíble – le susurró en el oído.

Indulala sonrió.

-          Gracias, tú no estás mal.

Arthur se permitió esos dos segundos de risa infantil que invadieron su pecho. El otro se había sonrojado un poco más y parecía querer cubrirse el cuerpo con la sábana. El verano arreciaba y parecía que ese, era un gesto nada práctico. Igual, supuso, habían estado en veranos más cálidos y húmedos. Le iba a conceder esa coraza nueva. Por ahora.

Se dejó luego caer suavemente en la cama. Miró el techo y con parsimonia dejó que Indulala se recostara en su pecho. Parecía que pensaba. Podía casi escuchar sus pensamientos en la cabeza. Casi.

-          ¿Qué pasa?

Esperó unos dos minutos, tal vez más. Indulala no se movió. Se limitó a abrazarlo con fuerza.

-          No me acostumbro

-          ¿Hm?

-          En una mañana como esta – hizo una pausa más bien larga – las cosas serían distintas. La rutina era muy cómoda.

-          ¿Prefieres estar dando clase que… aquí?

-          Oh. No. Creo que no.

-          ¿Solo crees? – le haló con suavidad el cabello – algo hice mal anoche entonces.

Dos o tres latidos de corazón pasaron.

-          No – le dijo y la voz le sonó cada onza sobrenatural – es solo que… aun no me recupero de lo que pasó.

-          Sería impresionante, en un sentido algo torcido, que lo hubieras hecho ya. No ha pasado mucho y me imagino que … todo cayó muy deprisa para ti.

-          ¿No les extrañas tú? – lo miró - ¿a tu familia? Ellos también…

-          No pasaba mucho tiempo con ellos, me duele más Francis.

-          Entiendo.

El aire estaba empezando a ponerse pesado. El sol seguía subiendo despacio. La habitación había tomado un bonito color crema y el calor empezaba a subir.  Bajo su brazo Indulala empezó a removerse con la intención de levantarse. Lo asió más hacia él. No iba a permitir que esos segundos se perdieran. Con mucho cuidado levantó suavemente su mentón.

-          No te levantes – le dijo después de haberlo besado.

Le besó otra vez. Sobre sus labios pudo sentir que el otro sonreía. Las manos de Indulala se fundieron en su nuca. Halando suavemente los cabellos cortos que nacían ahí. Cuando se separaron Indulala tomó un rizo rebelde y lo puso con muchísimo cuidado tras su oreja. Sonreía dulcemente. Y se permitió abrazarlo. Ese placer de poder poner sus manos sobre Indulala era otra de las mil cosas que le resultaban increíbles. ¿Cómo había vivido todos esos años solo fantaseando? ¿Cómo había podido sobrevivir a todo ello sin tomarlo de la mano? ¿abrazarlo? ¿besarlo? ¿Cómo? Había sido demasiado fuerte y temió que ahora que tenía todo no iba a poder vivir sin tenerlo todo el tiempo.

Tiempo.

Esa era otra cosa que le parecía increíble. La cantidad de tiempo que tenía delante se hacía casi vulgar. Hong le había advertido que pensar demasiado en el futuro le iba a producir ansiedad, pero en esos momentos no estaba pensando en el futuro. No. Estaba pensando en el concepto abstracto del tiempo, de lo que el tiempo haría con ellos, con él, más que nada. A Indulala el tiempo parecía no importarle teniendo siempre el futuro en close cuarters. Para su fortuna el susodicho evitó que se comiera la cabeza con preocupaciones sin sentido cuando en medio de una risilla traviesa se subió a su regazo y lo hizo hundirse más en el colchón.

-          Esto si es una sorpresa – dijo y miró a Indulala que tenía el cabello cayendo para todos lados.

-          Habrá algo que podría hacer para evitar que te veas así.

-          ¿Así?

-          Como si quisieras hacer estallar la puerta con la mente.

-          ¿Puedo hacerlo?

Indulala pareció considerarlo seriamente. Negó.

-          Sin puerta no hay… eso

-          Que horrible chantaje.

-          Son mis términos.

Nuevamente se encontró riendo. Riendo como lo que era: Un joven. No había tragedia, no había sangre, dramas, almas, dioses y semidioses. Solo era él. El chico idiota que decidió enamorarse de la persona menos conveniente. Y después estaba Indulala que también decidió hacerle caso a la persona realmente menos conveniente. “Mira donde te llevó tu curiosidad, querido”. Sintió un pinchazo en la mejilla. Indulala había hecho un muy poco característico mohín.

-          Otra vez.

-          Lo siento, es que estoy pensando en…eso.

-          No creo.

-          ¿Por qué no crees? – le sonrió todo carismático

-          Porque estoy sobre tu regazo. Lo sabría.

Sin vergüenza.

Arthur sintió lentamente como el calor de su cuerpo se dirigió a dos zonas muy específicas.

-          Ahora sí parece que estás pensando en eso.

-          ¿De dónde sacaste la confianza de hablarme así? Audaz.

-          Perdón, mi buen señor, pero creo que acá arriba no me llegan la totalidad de sus lloriqueos.

Siendo esta la gota que rebasó el vaso usó toda su fuerza para enderezarse y estrechar al otro en un beso particularmente acalorado. Usando algo de momento logró intercambiar las posiciones. Tuvo un vago recuerdo – o no tanto – de haber hecho muchas veces aquello anoche. Indulala reía en un reguero de sabanas, almohadas y cabellos plateados. Se abrió una cortina de cabello para que se viera su cara. Sonreía con la misma timidez que la noche anterior solo que tenía unos bordes de audacia que eran muy nuevos. Le sentaban bien. El sonrojo en sus mejillas le marcaba con más fuerza los pómulos. Sus ojos eran dos medias lunas. Besó sus labios otra vez. Ya habría tiempo para enfrentarse a la gran cantidad de tiempo que tenían por delante. Ya habría tiempo para hacerle cara al abismo en el que se habían arrojado. En esos dulces minutos serían solo ellos. Nadie más.