#horribly unsynchronized

[theunmarkedtombstone]

Honey, I Blew Up The Kid (1992)

[finnickfan8]

“Thank you”

Pairing: Finnick Odair x reader

Genre: Hurt/comfort and smut

Warnings: smut, mentions of trafficking (very brief)

Your husband never slept well, so when he did you knew not to interrupt his one sense of peace. You loved hearing his soft snores and little noises as he nuzzled against you. Sometimes he would talk in his sleep babbling on about nothing, that’s how you knew Finnick, your Finnick is in a state of serenity.

His skin was velvet despite the scars and callouses that add a nice contrast in texture to the cashmere of his sun-kissed skin. His ambrosial scent was intoxicating and it filled your nose and then your mind with bliss.

The angelic man began to stir, his breath become more ragged and unsynchronized with your own. Finnick’s once somewhat swarthy knuckles became pale as he clutched the sheets near your waists. His nose twitched and his mouth dropped to let out a little ‘no.’ Finnick was in danger you knew it.

You stroked his messy tufts out of his face and shushed him, hoping to lull him back to sleep. To your avail he tosses over before flailing back in to you. You hold him still and start humming lullabies to him. “Shhhhh Finny, it’s me. It’s Y/N. You’re safe and I’m safe.” He starts to wake up and raises his tear stained face from your chest.

“We gotta go, the Jabber Jays, they have your screams. I’m so sorry.” He cries in to you, clutching your shirt. “I’m supposed to be here for you and here your ‘strong’ husband is, whining in your eyes like a child.” His sobs continue, the emasculation furthering as he cries in to you.

“Shhhhh, Finn, you know that’s not true. I love how you comfort me.” you pull his head up to look at you as tears rush from his sea green orbs. “Now it’s my turn to comfort you. What’s wrong, handsome?” He breaks eye contact and sits up.

“I saw them. The people i’ve killed, the people i’ve been sold to, and you. What I had done to them, the terrible, horrible things, was being done to you.” He pulls you up to sit between his legs, stroking his fingers through it, separating strands. “You were alone in the games, Jabber Jays screaming at you as the tributes took their turns taking a go at you in both ways. I stood there unable to do anything.” He shuddered a bit, braiding your hair to try to calm himself down.

“That would never happen, you have always protected me.” You smiled weakly at the love of your life, trying to reassure him but not knowing how. His hands go from your hair to your thighs, running them up and down.

“You’re always here for me and I want to thank you.” He trailed off, playing with the seams of your shorts. “Only if you want me to, because consent is very important.” He smiles down at you, kissing your forehead.

“You don’t have to use your body to thank me, Finnick. I wouldn’t marry you if all I liked was your body.” You were sure this was something he was taught to do in The Capitol, and you didn’t want him to feel like he had to.

“No, please.” He looked at you with glossy eyes. “I want to thank you this way. What do you say, Love?” You nod happily, knowing he did enjoy making you happy. Before you knew it, you were strewn in the middle of the bed and legs on Finnicks shoulders as his tongue took a lap around the inner edge of your labia.

Long strokes of his tongue went around the edge of your cunt as he avoided your clit, teasing you. A strangled moan escaped you as he flicked his tongue against your clit before going back to making zigzags across your pussy with a flat tongue.

His tongue dips in, slightly, just rimming you. His actions were so painfully teasing. “Please Finnick.” you whined, grabbing a fistful of his hair. Finnick obliged, kissing your clit gently. He started to suck and roll his tongue over the small bud. The way he used his mouth drove you crazy, within minutes, your legs were shaking and you were mewling.

“You look so pretty.” Finnick breathed out before kissing your cunt, looking up as you as he inched his long finger in to you. You moaned his name, feeling the stretch of his finger gliding in to your walls. “You’re doing so well.”

He starts to move his finger inside of you, slowly in and out as his thumb circles your clit. his mouth starts to kiss up to your breasts, taking one in his mouth and gently circling the nipple of the other. His thumb on your delicate nipple, flicked it up and down as he desperately sucked your other breast.

He pulls off with a ‘pop’ and adds another finger. Your cunt clenches around him as his nimble fingers find your spongy G spot. Finnick abuses that spot, hitting it over and over until you’re begging him.

“Please Finnick, it’s so good you’re so good. ” You choke out and he grunts in response. He was so focused on making you cum. He switched which hand was in you and moved the other, slightly lubricated one, to your nipple, toying it up and down.

“You’re so perfect baby, come on show me how good I make you feel.” His mouth lands back on to your clit, sending you over the edge.

You moan out, tugging at Finnick’s bronze locks as he relentlessly shoves his fingers in to you at a seemingly supersonic pace. Your orgasm is long and drawn out. For the first time, you squirt and in to Finnick’s mouth at that. He pulls you in to a quiet kiss, showing his love.

“Such a good girl for me my love. Let’s get you cleaned up.” Finnick begins to go get a towel to while you up with when you pull his wrist.

“Nope, your turn.”

[13fundamentals]

Me when my animation looks horrible and unsynchronized after saving it (because I made it during the alight motion lag) but I'm too lazy to go back to fix it:

[heavensenthearty]

Book One: Wind Snippet

TW // Blood

“Katara–”

“You have no idea what this War has put me through!” I whip to face him again, more tears itch my eyes, “Nobody has any idea what this War has put me through! They don’t know what this War has put me through!” I point in the direction we came from in this horrible but lush palace. “They never cared to know! They never saw all the times I was left without food because I gave it all to them and made it all for themout of scraps! I was left feeding of my own blood!” I pull down the sleeve of my parka to show the healed and shallow (but present) cuts above my wrists. “And after that I cleaned for them. I cured them when they were sick. I put them to bed so they got good sleep and I was left without covers – I made them those covers! I made them their clothes! And what did they do? Making fun of me? Leaving me? Lying?”

I can’t see beyond the hot fog of my tears. They abandoned me…

I feel sick.

It hurts–

It all dulls when Zuko crushes me into a hug. His heart beats so strong.

Both our breathings are hard, unsynchronized; his is hot and cold, close to my ear. It sounds agitated. My ribs ache for his arms crushing me, I don’t mind it.

The heat of his skin gets to me through his clothes. It feels feverish. My fists clench tight on his sleeve and chest, seeking that heart and warmth.

He is so much life.

[the-wintershade]

— things ain’t what they used to be

pairing: sam wilson x f!reader x bucky barnes summary: bucky’s words get into your head and your dancing skills falter, threatening the partnership you and sam have built, but he is always there to listen and to encourage. In the process, you get closer than you thought. wc: 4.9k+  genre: angsty, flirting, deeper talks, secrets coming out

Blue Shade: series — masterlist | 03

You couldn’t let yourself be as carefree as you once were. No matter how you tried to force out Bucky’s words, they were in there, ingrained in a part of your brain that you couldn’t access or change.

It became noticeable when you showed up for class the next week.

You were stiffer, heavier on your feet, and avoided Sam’s glancing eyes more intentionally. 

You felt awful, horrible that words that should have fallen on shut ears wormed their way into your head. Like you were a pawn, a slave to his bidding. You didn’t want the words there, you wanted nothing to do with his fowl corrupting phrases of false assurance. It was like a gambit, a lure of something genuine with the price of your soul attached to it.

You didn’t want to trade anything. You didn’t want the deal, but your mind already decided for you.

And Sam was suffering for it.

The instructor seems to notice as well as she stops and frowns more than once in your direction. Steve and Peggy are dancing fabulously, but have a diminished energy, as if your change has affected them too. Natasha mouths are you okay? over her shoulder as she twists around Clint.

You try to nod and put on your best smile, but it feels plastic, robotic. It’s more done out of habit than a truthful response. 

It was always like this being with Bucky, but if that’s what it took, you would pay the price. You could go back. It could be like it used to be.

You trip over Sam’s foot for the fourth time since the class began fifteen minutes ago and a heavy sigh spreads through you, your grip loosening on Sam’s hand. He holds your hand firmer when you falter, but doesn’t move any closer. 

“You alright?” His face twists with worry and you kick yourself mentally for letting Bucky throw you off this much. “Do you need to take a break?”

Irritation bubbles in your chest at the suggestion. It’s not his fault that you’re so off your game, but you didn’t want to quit. That meant that Bucky won. That somehow he’d made you a toy to play with that remained completely obedient to his beck and call. 

“No.” You breathe, knowing that your frustration was on display despite that you’d tried to shove it down. “No, I just….” You pulled your hand off his shoulder and ran it through your hair, collecting your thoughts. Glancing down, you practiced moving in a box like you’d done before, perfectly. 

“Okay.” He nodded and moved with you. “Try taking the lead. I’ll follow you.” His gaze was gentle and patient as he waited for you to get your stance in order before moving. You took your first few steps and he mirrored you completely, easily. 

He had no problems keeping up with you and your hesitating movements. He made it look simple, like he was just breathing, and it was your turn to be in awe of him.

“What, Coffee Girl?” He smirked, the first time he’d joked around with you since class started. “Surprised that I can follow as well as I can lead?”

You closed your mouth as you looked up to him. It was that same hint of playfulness and warmth that he always showed you. It felt unfair that he was taking the brunt of your internal war and your heart squooze at your behavior. Shame flared across your features, making your skin molten. 

By the time you were ready to form an answer, you were too devastated to form words. You just kind of gave a weak chuckle and kept trying not to step on his feet.

“Alright.” He dropped your hand and created distance between you two. You struggled to adjust to the drop in temperature, feeling strangely empty and devoid of energy. Sadness threatened to envelop you at the pain you were causing. Your eyes started watering uncontrollably. 

He cleared his throat excessively loud and everyone paused. “Excuse the interruption, but I think that we all deserve a break right?” He gestured at Steve and Peggy who stopped swaying mid swing. Steve looked from Sam to you and nodded his head. He turned to the dance instructor. 

“I think a five minute break wouldn’t harm anyone.” She agreed with a slight sly undercurrent underneath that felt directed towards you in a way.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I vote for a dance break. Perhaps with a selection of more danceable music.” Sam struts over to the speaker in a way that almost broke your tight lipped frown into a smile. Almost. The jazzy funk of Marvin Gaye began spinning around the hall, changing the quiet, cautious sounds of a piano and serenading trumpet into groovy percussion and a calming guitar. 

Sam nodded his head enthusiastically while Steve laughed at his antics. His eyes glimmered with a hidden inside joke that you wouldn’t get. 

He boogies his way to Steve and Peggy who fumble around in a mess of unsynchronized tempo and jerky movements but they began to fall into this 50s inspired groove that seems to work in sync with the music. You’re surprised at their knowledge of such an older style but it’s nice to see them break out of the formality that the waltz demands.

A man who’s name you learned was Vis, short for some extensive name you weren’t really paying that much attention to, got booty bumped by a funky Sam and looked like a deer in headlights. You almost giggled then and watched as Wanda began to shake and jump around. Vis’s face turned beet red, which happened every time he was even a bit embarrassed.

After some whoops and hollers from Wanda, Vis tried to move on the beat with her, holding her hands like he needed her for balance instead of guidance. They stumble through the steps together, but at least they are having fun. Wanda’s beautiful smile warms Vis to the core; it’s easy to see.

Sam attempts to drag Natasha and Clint into the action but both hold up hands, clearly conveying that’s never gonna happen. He shoots finger guns at them and spins around to make a b-line for you. 

You shake  your head furiously in denial and begin to back up, but Sam is insistent and presses in closer until he’s toe to toe with you. He draws your hands into his as you take a deep breath involuntarily and shakes his hips a little, teasing you with his eyes as he pours it on thick. “Oh, mercy mercy me,” He hums showing you that he won’t back down until you join him.

You begin to giggle and he alights with color, the whites of his teeth show. He tries to tamper it though and twirls his hand around to spin you in a circle. You follow his subtle direction and pivot around his hand as the orchestral part of the song begins to take over.

He pulls you in, wiggling his shoulders and guiding you through a modified waltz that’s much less challenging and more relaxing. It’s more about moving to the beat and adding pizzazz to what’s already there. It’s fun and you're smiling in no time, Bucky’s words drifting out of your mind.

He booty bumps you. You both fall into a bundle of awkwardly spasming bodies and outburst of mirth.

Sam watches you with laughter, his brown cheeks becoming little balls of happiness on his face. His eyes drip in amusement and enjoyment. He’s the party and the entertainment all in one.

You hold on to his light even as the song fades, even as the class resumes and you’re back in his warm, safe arms again, flowing through the moves in perfect harmony. He feels warmer now, renewed at the quick break that’s brought back your smile. You feel like Bucky’s words were nothing but a terrible, horrible dream that’ll dissolve by standing next to your sun, next to your Sam.

…

Sam digs into his burger as you take a reasonable bit of your own, watching him just as he watches you. It’s not creepy or intimidating, but more of a familiar thing to do. You’ve been observing each other for some time now, soon after introductions were established, so this was nothing unusual. 

But Sam’s gaze held something deeper, a twinge of confusion and dissatisfaction wafted through his deeply colored eyes. You wanted to ask, but waited. It might not be something that you were quite ready to answer yet. You resolved to finish chewing your part of the burger and look outside at the rushing traffic, at the way the light bounces off buildings and makes the sidewalk brighter.

Sure enough, when you’re ready to reach for your drink, Sam’s question beats you to it. “What happened yesterday?”

It’s a question that he has a right to an answer, especially with how it conflicted with your dancing abilities, but you don’t want to lay too much on him. After all, these were your issues to deal with, dumping your problems on him were unfair. 

“Nothing,” You compromise, hoping that the words would be just enough to convince him that some was definitely wrong but you weren’t ready to really get into it. “Just a little tired and irritated, that’s all.”

He doesn’t like the way you sigh. His shoulders hunch a little and his eyebrows furrow closer together when he hears something that upsets him. The fact that you knew that, surprises you, but you brush it off as getting to know each other over these past few days.

“(Name), be honest with me,” He pauses, his voice softening with an edge of seriousness. “I deserve that much.”

You almost cringe. He’s right, but you still don’t really want to say what really happened. You don’t want to upset him or make him angry for your sake. That, he doesn’t deserve. You also don’t want him to take on anything. You’ll solve this.

“If I tell you,” You fiddle with your straw, leaning back in your chair like you have the winning hand in a game of blackjack. “You have to promise me, that you won’t get upset.”

He leans forward, his concern rising in his eyebrows and darkening expression. “I can do that.” He tries to smooth out the creases that formed in the last few seconds, but a few still strain against him, telling you that he’s already upset.

You sigh and mess with your fingers in your lap, refusing to look him in the eye, to watch him become disgruntled with what you’re about to say. You explain what happened when you got home, how Bucky’s arms held you restrainedly tight against him and how he tried to convince you that Sam was just trying to use you, to play you in some way.

By the time you looked up, Sam wasn’t all the way upset, his shoulders were hunched still but his eyes were wide and hurt. That damaged you the most.

He leaned back when you made eye contact and looked away, his fingers running across his chin absentmindedly. When he was ready, which took some time, he dared to gaze back at you before sitting forward. “Do you not trust me?”

What? That’s the farthest thing from the truth. Of course you trusted him, this wasn’t about that. “I trust you.” You answered with more determination than you thought you were capable of and stared him directly in the eyes as you said so, assuring him that there were falsities in your statement. You know he accepts your answer as his shoulders drop in relief. 

He looks down and takes a breath before continuing. “Then why were you all over the place today?”

You close your eyes in frustration. “Because he doesn’t know you. Because I know you wouldn’t do something like that.” You sigh and stare at the table. “I was angry that his words got to me like that. I didn’t believe for a second that the words were true, but the fact that he knows just how to get a rise out of me made me unbelievably frustrated.”

When you don’t look at him, he reaches across the table and brushes his fingers against your deathly tight grip on your cup. Your hand loosens on contact as you take a sharp breath, a flush moving to your cheeks, a shiver riverbrating down your spine. “Thank you for telling me.” He murmurs, his gaze warm and more sultry than you remember.

Your hand inches out to that lightning strike that buzzes between your hands, but you restrain yourself and let it fall open onto the table. “Thank you,” You minutely smile. “For believing me.”

“Am I stepping on anything, by inviting you to dance with me?” He looks genuinely concerned and it breaks your heart all over again. His warmth and light that you don’t deserve.

“No. It was my choice to agree to dance with you and Bucky just has jealousy problems that he needs to sort out himself.” Your jaw locks when you say the words, but you’re much calmer now. The heat that runs through your veins isn’t from anger.

Sam nods and returns to eating. You do the same. 

A question bubbles up through your chest, an idea you previously ignored but now brought to your attention through its neglect. “That day I met you at the party, why were you there?” Your eyes are guarded, but not closed. You’re concerned that it took you so long to ask.

Sam smirks and finishes swallowing before responding. “Ah, so now you ask.” 

You bite your cheek to keep a smirk of your own from capturing your face. “I didn’t realize you were actively trying to keep it a secret.”

“No, not a secret. I was just wondering when your curiosity would finally get through.” 

You only hum in response, leaning away from the table, gesturing for him to continue.

He chuckles. “I know Willow.” 

The words hit you like a train and the smile fell straight off your face. The girl that Bucky disappeared with, while you were still there. The girl that knew you and Bucky had something going on but refused to keep her hands off him. Not like he was any better.

He watched your face harden and sobered up a bit. “I also met her in college. She invited me to a few art shoes she was doing as an amature artist. I knew there was something else behind her innocence.” He leans forward and sighs. “But when I explained my obvious disinterest in her, she backed off and turned out to be a surprisingly good friend.”

Your blood sizzled, a twisting knot of hot anger coiling and moulding in your stomach. It wasn’t about Bucky, but Sam and just as the realization caught in your mind, your inklings of rage dissipated in a second. Why is it all about Sam this whole time?

You closed your eyes and unfurled your fist, the half-moons the only remnants of your restrained vexation. 

Sam’s eyes drilled into your head. “Are you okay?” His voice was soft and deep, full of worry and anxiety.

“Yep.” You grit the words out between your closed teeth, allowing the flames to sputter and fizzle out before opening your eyes again. “Just...fine.” You peel your eyes open slowly and see Sam’s frown. Your face smoothes itself at his concern. You don’t like making him fret over you.

He doesn’t take your answer as satisfactory. “I’m sorry. I forgot Willow was a sensitive subject.”

“It’s not about Willow.”

Sam’s eyes lock with yours, the fire flashes behind your eyes for a second before you look away, waiting for it all to subside. Sam gently reaches across the table to you, brushing your blazing hot hand with his cooler one, trying to get your focus somewhere else. Where physical violence didn’t sound like a bad option.

“(name), look at me.” You strain against his voice, tears of frustration building in your eyes. He grasps onto your fingers tighter and tugs gently. You look at him then. “I’m not going to press you about what’s going on between the two of you, that’s your business, but I don’t like seeing you upset.” A soft warmth unfurls in your chest, smothering the wall of pain threatening to rise.”I’m sorry for whatever happened, but I am here to support you, even if we haven’t known each other that long.”

You laugh, it’s sad and bitter, but it’s better than crying in front of him. You’ve cried enough tears already over this, you don’t need more to the bunch.

But it’s nice to know that he cares about your well being and that he withstood Willow. It makes you happier to know that Willow can’t draw in everyone.

It just makes you peeved that it all comes back to the art gallery for her, that she feels she needs to get men this way. It should be about her work. It should be about something she’s passionate about, not just for an excuse.

You sigh and smile at him. Squeezing his hand, you manage to get out a sentence quietly. “Thank you, Sam. It means a lot.”

“Always.” His are dark and warm, filled with pools of light and sincerity. It gives the confidence to return back to the way you were. You give his hand one last squeeze before you let go and return to eating. Sam hesitates a moment, making sure you’re actually okay before continuing with his meal.

After finishing your food in a comfortable silence, the gentle movement of paper and liquid traveling through straws creating a white noise, Sam asks you one more question. “I want to show you a place next time. Do you feel comfortable coming with me?”

You smirk. “Trying to kidnap me?”

“Only if you’re okay with that.”

He smiles when you answer. “I’m down. Lead the way, Captain.”

…

Dance class provides a higher charge than originally seen between the two of you. His smirk lingers in your mind, making you tingle and blush rise. These aren’t things that you can really remember feeling with Bucky, but it’s been so long, how would you remember?

It’s probably a bad thing that you can’t echo thoughts of good times with Bucky, but maybe it’s just that you’ve never felt this way about anyone else before. Maybe these feelings are new.

Sam seems to feel the same way as you do. He’s not nearly as flirty or as talkative as usual, he doesn’t crack any one liners with you nor does he twirl you into any crazy moves. He’s all poise and following the rules, but his hands wrap around yours a little tighter, you dance a little closer, and the air hums with the electricity between you.

He stares more openly when all you can do is look away and smile. 

Your steps are steadier and accurate. You don’t stumble around like you did the day before, and you and Sam move as one unit, gracefully weaving around each other, your feet like feathers spinning through the air.

The teacher smiles appreciatively at you and every other person in the class, every couple moves in sync. The whole class appears harmonious and balanced, more comfortable and less worried for your performance. It’s preferable to the rough nature of Bucky and the challenging environment of your job.  It’s comfortable and nice, a place of relaxation and peace for you. 

It’s a place to come and dance with Sam and forget everything, forget the world exists.

…

Sam’s jacket falls around your shoulders, a soft barrier against the cooling breeze of the sea. You walk side-by-side down the boardwalk, the planks clunk beneath your shoes and the breaking of small waves provides a murmur of background noise. It’s enough to create a pleasant space to take in the beauty of it all.

There’s nothing more delicate and beautiful than a beach at sunset. It’s no wonder you’re here with him; it’s oddly fitting.

“I used to come here a lot.” Sam quietly murmurs underneath his breath, just loud enough for you to hear but careful not to pull you out of your admiration too fast. “When I was in my head too much.”

You nod politely and keep watching the waves lap against the shore. You want him to continue on his own terms, you’d never force his story from him. 

He clears his throat after a beat and drifts a little closer to you. Your heat grows for a half-second. “I used to be in the army and when you come back...life just isn’t the same for you anymore.” He sighs and your heart squeezes hearing the pain and the hurt in his words. “It’s hard to adjust and when life is too absurdly mundane, I’d come here. The roar of the waves could dull some of the noise up here.” He taps against his temple and smiles to himself.

You force yourself not to touch him, but it takes immense effort and your hand itches, pulls, wrestles against your mind's commands to keep still. You sink your teeth into the side of your cheek and hum in response to him, trying to keep your eyes from locking with his.

“Is it bad now?” The words slip out as your concern for him reaches a crux and not knowing is eating up every bit of self-control you’ve built into place. Your question lingers between you two, fragile and shaky, and you wonder if you’ve crossed some horrible line that you weren’t supposed to. 

A feeling of dread wells up in your chest as he takes a while to answer, your face begins to drop and your steps falter, but then he shakes his head in disagreement. “No.” He chuckles to himself. “It’s been getting better these last few weeks.”

His smile holds a secret that is intended for you to understand, but you try not to pay it too much attention. 

“You know, if you need anything, I’m here.” You fiddle with the sleeves of his jacket as you respond. “If you can be here for me through this Bucky mess, then I can be here for your bad dreams too.”

Sam watches you unabashedly and then smiles gently. “Thank you.”

You walk together to the end of the pier and sit on the edge, your feet reaching towards the waves. The wind here is colder, more cutting and you wrap his jacket further around your shoulders. 

Neither of you speak for a few minutes, just letting the wind and the sea make a music of its own. It was this comfortability in the silence that you wish you could share with Bucky. You wish you could be beside him and feel the way you do now, safe and comfortable. You don’t have to fight against him or his antics, his cheating behavior and aggressive personality. 

You could just be. 

You could just exist in the same time and space and that would be enough for you.

And the conversation wouldn’t always drift to your mistakes and failures. It wouldn’t be made into a spectacle of hate about you living your life and trying new things.

But Sam doesn’t make you feel stupid or dumb. He doesn’t make you feel like you’re doing anything wrong.

Sam must have seen your scrunched eyebrows and critical eyes. “What are you thinking about?” 

You sigh and fiddle with the palms sprawled in your lap. “My ‘boyfriend’ as you so affectionately call him.”

“Oh.” He looks back to the waves, steadily crashing but growing in intensity. The tide must be coming in. “And how are things?”

The mood changes. He grows more reserved, analytical and objective, like he usually does whenever Bucky’s name is mentioned. Your stomach twists. You don’t want him to close off or make him feel like he’s stepped on something delicate. You don’t want to hurt him with stories about him.

But you know that if you try to shield the truth, he’ll be just as hurt. He said he’d be there. You trust him.

“Tense at best.” You conceded, face sinking in despite the gorgeous scenery.

“Hmm.” He takes a breath and looks at your hands, balled together. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

He nods.

“I just feel guilty around him, like I’m doing something wrong.” It wasn’t because of Sam; it was because you knew your feelings were changing and they weren’t in favor of Bucky.

“Does the dancing thing...make you feel uncomfortable?” He spares a fleeting glance at your face and you watch his calm but worried eyes move over yours gently, just testing your reaction before he reveals the depth of his.

A similar alarm echoes off in your mind that this will have to come to an end soon, that this beautiful dream will dissolve from your mind. You don’t want this to end. You don’t like the thought of not seeing him again. 

“No! That isn’t the issue. I’ve been more myself dancing with you than I have been around him.” You fiddle with your hands, a spike of anxiety rising at your confession, but you spare a glance in your direction to see him staring at you directly. A jolt flares in your core.

“That’s...reassuring.” You bump his shoulder, reminding you of how close you are. If you placed your hands on either side of your body, you’d nearly be touching. He smiles at your teasing. “But,” His tone dips to a lower pitch, a lingering sigh hinting at the transition from euphoria to reality. “As nice as that sounds, it doesn’t sound like you’re in a good spot.”

“We’re not.” Your face droops in frustration. “And I’m not sure what to do.”

He watches you for a second before he responds. “Sounds like you need to talk to him.”

When you turn to look at him again, the sun is splayed so beautifully on his features that he looks like an angel, swathed in gold and sunlight. You can’t stop staring. And even if he was embarrassed by your pointed gaze, he doesn’t seem concerned. He’s too busy gazing back at you.

You’re surprised when you start to lean in, but the thought only registers in some part of your mind that’s far away from the decision making part of your brain. What brings a present shock is the fact that he begins to lean in too.

Your temperature increases and you can feel your breath quickening, but you keep going anyway, ignoring the nagging feeling of guilt that’s increasing by the moment. Sam’s nose brushes against your own and your eyes begin to fall, but it’s as if your vision clears when your eyes shut.

You stop and he immediately follows suit.

But you take a moment to savor the feeling, being so close to him, being close enough to touch and hold. These are treasonous thoughts that carry a weight that you don’t fully understand, but it feels good. You haven’t felt this good being around someone in years, despite being with someone else all this time.

It’s horrible that you’re just starting to figure all of this out now. “Sorry.” Your whisper is jagged and breathy, but it’s all you can manage. You don’t think you have full control of your mental functions to do or explain more than that. 

Sam seems equally as lost because all he can do is hum in response. You know his eyes are open, watching you, waiting for you to look at him, but you can’t. Because if you do, you’ll lose all over again.

“We should get back.” He stands and only when he isn’t in your sights that you open your eyes. You notice how the ocean quieted down, the roaring in your ears in your ears isn’t as loud, how the wind has died. 

When you turn, his hand drifts in front of your face and you hesitantly reach out to take it, knowing the jolt that’s going to spike through your arm at the contact of your skin with his. It’s stronger than it’s been before, but he supports you as you stand like he didn’t feel it. 

You straighten on slightly wobbling legs, still buzzed from a second ago. Only when he’s sure that you’ll be able to walk on your own does he let go, holding on for much longer than necessary. You miss his heat right when you let go.

He treds next to you faithfully until you reach your car. You unwrap his jacket from your shoulders and gently give it back to him, thanking him for lending it to you. You prod over to him and press a feather-soft kiss to his cheek, making sure to keep it to the appropriate amount of time, but wishing you’d just let it linger a bit longer. When you look back at him, a low warm heat spreads through your stomach at the way his eyes look like pools of fresh, heated chocolate, moving in elegant swirls.

You force yourself to turn away and get into your car. You give him a small wave as you pull away and then immediately crank the AC despite it’s only 50 degrees outside. 

You can’t stop smiling, even when you make it back to your apartment.

[fvcking-orb]

What he says: "I'm fine"

What he means: "In "I am my own best friend" and "nowadays" in hit musical Chicago, Velma's insecure character is emphasized by her coming second in the unsynchronized portions, showing her to be a follower. This point is pushed further by the choice to put "class" and "nowadays" back-to-back, making it clear that Velma molds herself to her companion and reflects them instead of being her own character. Velma's character, overall, in the show is handled extremely well, with her confidence being completely shattered by the end of "i can't do it alone (reprise)" and being replaced by false confidence and jealousy. If you pay attention to Velma's arc, by the end of the production you'll find yourself horribly dissatisfied... The show portrays truly well executed fall from grace."

[sasorikigai]

- ; phrases that really hit you where it hurts || @paindealt || accepting 

His heart and fingers remain entwined against love, against Kuai Liang’s cold, seemingly lifeless hand, as Hanzo’s eyes render into a pair of stars exploding beneath the canopy of the velvety night. How his breathing turns into thick miasma, potent and deadly than all the accumulations of stale air hanging rather ominously above his head like a celestial haze, no more frown would be etched on his face as desolate demolition deepens further as his heart slams against his ribcage, unsynchronized with the cadence of his crackling rapid fire beneath his core. 

Such gripping guilt clenches his gut, overriding his own unbearable, excruciating exhaustion as the last stretch of the afternoon’s illumination spill onto both of them. The fire that spreads through his body remains, rather than breaking through his skin from the inside. Kuai Liang seems to bleed ashen paleness and metallic rust all the same, through the tightly wrapped bandages not only around his head, but around the upper torso. After such briefest wakening, the Lin Kuei continues to slumber, his visage crisped with pain, yet lips slightly curled as if the seared warmth from Hanzo was releasing enough light and hope for both. 

Above the cryomancer, Hanzo bleeds darkness, despite the intertwining light, hopelessness, despite even witnessing as Kuai’s heavy lids finally flutter open after unforeseeable amount of time has passed. Through the impression of his hazy consciousness, his strong arms supporting his torso gives in, as the echoing cadence of his own breaths slow down, begins to resonate through his head as his ever-straightened posture slants, then finds itself atop Kuai Liang’s shoulder. 

A scalding heat, salty tear brimming with effervescent emotion threaten to trail down his cheek, gathered and caught between thick lashes in a watery discharge. Then, it quickly recedes back behind his dead as still orbs, the gleaming intensity, that little spark of excitement he had been teased with swiftly draining as the tears splashed and gurgled over the glassy chocolate pools. How gut-wrenching and horrible it was, to be threatened to lose another love to trade in with an absence of fierce, passionate love which only death could snap with its vicious fingers. Death only had taken more, more and more, as a sense of hopelessness and damnation exacerbated with each passing second. 

“I’m right here,” Hanzo mumbles against the clammy coolness of Kuai Liang’s skin, as his senses briefly come alive above the slick puddle of his emotional discharge. “I will be swimming in unconscious to build more dreams about you.” The hardened voice mellows and sways with irresistible lull of Hypnos’ arms as stinging warmth of his eyes feel as if he had exhausted an ocean. But his exit, is a blessing. As he immediately falls asleep to find his heart ironically grow much fonder with melted tension, because his plastered cheek grows colder and colder with each minute’s passing. And Hanzo knows, Kuai Liang will soon regain his full strength. 

[dorkyungsoowrites]

Spontaneous Attraction Ch. 19

Pairings: Kyungsoo x You

Genre: Fluff/Angst/Smut | Ambiguous AU

Warnings: Phone sex, masturbation, cumplay

Word Count: 4k

Description: A late night phone call.

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"Thoughts?"

That was the caption you put under the message you sent to Kyungsoo. Two and a half painstaking weeks of mulling it over and discussing with your friend about Kyungsoo. She was moody about it. Sad at first, then ecstatic you were getting along so well, then upset again because her best friend was leaving her. You told her it wouldn't make you two any less close, but she knew better, and honestly you did too. That was the biggest hang-up. Your schedules were already so unsynchronized, and without the dusk and dawn chats you had every day it was going to be harder to see her. You talked it out logically with her.

"Answer with the first thing that comes to your head. Forget everything else," she had prompted. "Do you love me?"

"Of course," you grinned, laughing a little.

"Have you loved living with me?"

"Also obviously yes."

"If I were to say I wanted my partner to move in would you still be hesitating to go?"

"...no...not as much," you admitted.

"There. See? I want you to be happy, hun. Say yes to the handsome bastard. I've seen the way he looks at you when saying goodbye in the morning. I can get along fine alone honestly. I never really needed a roommate for rent purposes. You better visit often, but you're always welcome back."

That was that, really. You didn't have to worry about your friend, you had a good feeling about it. To top it off you held fast to your logic that if you have to debate on doing something or not for too long then you already know the answer. It's never failed you before. You agreed to move in with Kyungsoo. You weren't surprised when the timing was horrible. They were leaving on tour. For two months. Of course.

You chose to view the silver lining. It gave your current roommate time to transition, and gave you time to apartment hunt and plan out the details. That way when he returned you could check out the ones you liked best in person. Kyungsoo would exchange listings with you in his rare spare time. Typically while eating. He had been giddy at first, but for once you were the one pulling him back towards reality. He had never been apartment hunting before so the minutiae was lost on him. It took a week of you sending him links to better prospects for him to start grasping what to look for. Searching by area, price range for one bedroom versus two, were utilities included in that, is there laundry in the unit or in a separate communal area, was there designated parking spaces, etc, etc, blah blah blah. It was monotonous, but research was crucial to find a decent place so you weren't ripped off or stuck somewhere that turned out to be poorly managed. Been there. Not doing that again.

However, the aforementioned text had nothing to do with that. You decided you were missing him a little. A lot, actually. So you shot a short clip while wearing lingerie. It was meant to be a surprise for when he returned, but that went out the window rather quickly. It was all black, stockings held up by a thin, almost all sheer garter belt. The matching underwear and bra were decorated with lace. You liked this set when shopping because of the bit of optional flare you wore. A delicate, slightly elastic ribbon that circled your throat like a necklace. Only where the pendant usually sat on a necklace the ribbon continued in a straight line under your bra between your breasts to a small loop where it could be unhooked at the top of the thong. It gave the illusion everything was connected. So you pulled on one of Kyungsoo's shirts he left behind and set up your phone camera. You stood in front of a mirror, recording your hands gently gliding up your body while taking his shirt with it in the process. You swayed your hips and turned your torso slightly as well so it really showed off how good you looked. When the piece of clothing was close to your chin you giggled and dropped the material then stopped recording. It took you a few tries to get a video you were satisfied was sexy enough before sending it.

When your phone told you it sent successfully you changed back into regular pajamas. Kyungsoo would be performing so you didn't see a point to keeping it on. It took several hours for him to reply. By then it was the middle of the night and you were close to falling asleep when your phone began ringing. You pushed yourself up on a forearm, squinting at the bright screen when you picked up the phone from your nightstand. Upon seeing his name light up you wiped the fatigue from your eyes and flopped back on your pillow. You cleared your throat before answering so he didn't worry he was waking you up.

"Hey Kyungsoo." You did your best to sound cheerful. "How are you?" His deceptively mellow, deep, almost breathy voice sent chills along your skin.

"You know damn well how." He sounded far too calm for his biting words. "Did you think just because I'm busy with touring you could get away with teasing me like that? Do you understand how close the others were to seeing that video?" You smirked and replied innocently,

"It's been so long since you played with your pet. I was only letting you know I'm thinking about you." He sighed quietly into the receiver. "It's getting really hard to be good."

"I know it is, jagi. Only two more weeks."

"Did you at least like my outfit? I was going to surprise you, but I got excited."

"Of course," he answered flatly.

"What did you like about it?"

"Jagi, I have to be awake again in five hours. Can we please save this for when I come back?"

"I meant it when I sent that text," you complained. "I want to know what you thought when you saw the video." A long pause. You chewed on your bottom lip anxiously. There was a heavy click like a door shutting and fabric rustling on the other line.

"Use your imagination." How could he be so frustrating? It was an easy question. All he had to do was say you looked sexy. That's all you wanted. If he was going to be stubborn then you would just need to try harder.

"Okay then, I'm imagining you were on your hotel bed. You replayed the video a few times, but you couldn't stop yourself from getting turned on. After all it's been just as long for you unless you've been bad, and I looked sexy as hell." That earned a soft chuckle. The bright sound chimed in your ear and made your chest ache to be with him in person. "Maybe the tightness in your pants got too uncomfortable so you decided to call me to distract yourself. Although you said the other members almost saw it so maybe you were riding back to the hotel when you checked your messages. In that case I can see you blushing and trying to hide your phone. I wonder if you got hard and had to try and cover it up. You are adorable when you're flustered, sweetheart. You get all fidgety and giggly, and your face goes all red. I think you were so frustrated you tried to palm yourself a little bit and got caught. It would explain why you sounded so irritated when I picked up."

"That's some imagination," Kyungsoo breathed. "Totally wrong, but creative."

"Then tell me the real answer. Please?"

"You are something else," he muttered. "Alright, jagi. You want to know what really happened when I saw your message?"

"Please," you repeated.

"Junmyeon needed to borrow my phone because his ran out of charge, but when I saw your message I had to snatch it back and make up an excuse so he'd go away. On our way to the hotel I couldn't get you out of my head so I decided to call you when we arrived." He paused briefly. You thought that was the end so you opened your mouth to speak, but he continued at a lower volume. Slower; so that you heard every syllable clearly. "I kept imagining what it would be like to rip that little outfit off before fucking you until you lost your voice. It looked like you had on a fucking leash. I wanted to pull you down to your knees so you could fix the problem you made. The one thing you got right? I am currently sitting on the hotel bed."

"Alone?"

"Did you think I'd speak to you like this in front of the other members?"

"Not really, but you're making this so difficult." He took the bait.

"What is?" You trailed your fingertips down so your hand rested on your lower stomach.

"Trying not to touch myself while you talk." His breath hitched. You smiled triumphantly and settled back into your pillows. "You know how much I love your voice, Soo. It makes me want to misbehave."

"Don't you dare," he growled back. "Only I get to touch your pussy. And only you can touch my cock. I don't care how needy you get. Those are the rules, pet."

"Maybe I'm tired of your rules," you purred. It was the first time you were actually trying to shift the power dynamic. You'd disobeyed before for the fun of it, but you never took full control. Not being able to see him made you bolder it seems. And the fact it's been over a month since you were together. You might have been a bit desperate.

"How disappointing to hear. Don't you still want to make your sweetheart proud of how well you follow orders?"

"What's the harm if you're on the phone with me? You're still involved. Wouldn't you like to listen?" The gap of silence was too long. You slipped your fingers beneath your underwear and hissed softly at the sudden stimulation. A fire lit inside your gut, eyes falling closed. "I'm so wet already Soo," you sighed. His sweetness vanished, replaced with a huskiness that you've come to recognize as Kyungsoo trying to hide how his steely, calm composure was crumbling.

"Take your hand away," he ordered. "Do it now and apologize."

"No," you answered. You couldn't help the smile that formed at the thrill it gave you to hold some of the power. "I don't care anymore. This feels too good. Should I use my creative imagination to picture you're the one here touching me? Will hearing me moan your name make you realize how much I miss you? How much I miss those hands, and that mouth, and that gorgeous cock." You took a trembling breath, voice lowering to become raspier. "I miss the way you play with my pussy, master."

"Disobedient little brat," Kyungsoo gritted through his teeth. "You know how much I hate that name." You moaned happily.

"That's right, sweetheart. Tell me how bad I'm being. Scold me so I'll listen to you." A throaty groan hit your ears through the phone. You began pumping your fingers in and out of yourself, breath coming more shallow. It wasn't near as good as having his fingers. His were thicker than yours, soft from never building calluses playing guitar or working a more manual job, and they could reach deeper so they curled into just the right spot. You did, however, hold a very vivid imagination. So the pleasure you felt wasn't lacking. There was another rustle that came through the speaker paired with a huff of air.

"Fuck," he whispered. "How can you be so selfish? You don't think I'm just as frustrated? It would've been so easy to get off before now, but I wanted to save everything for you." His voice strained. "Only you."

"Are you touching yourself right now?" you teased. He moaned quietly, breathlessly. The phone speaker was thinning the sound through the static over the line. It was just a hair off from how his voice actually sounds like. It sent another jolt of heat through you, and you squirmed against the sheets, spreading your legs wider. "So much for sticking to the rules, huh Kyungsoo?"

"Shut up," he snapped. "You have no idea how hard I've been ever since that stupid video. Teasing me with that outfit and that pretty, perfect skin, waiting for me to mark it all over again. You couldn't have waited just a little bit longer. I think I've spoiled you too much. You need to learn better patience." He must have changed something he was doing because there was a small whimper that was cut off, voice snagging in his throat. You remembered he was in a hotel so he was probably trying to stay quiet. When he spoke again his pitch was higher, tone almost pleading. "It hurts." That was a problem you were glad to fix. You were getting closer, fingers speeding up a little as some of your muscles started tensing. You did your best to not sound as breathless as him.

"How are you on the bed?"

"Laying at the end. Feet on the floor," he panted. The new image of Kyungsoo in a hotel room, phone pressed to his ear, bucking his hips up into his hand, hair sticking to his forehead, was more than enough fuel. The fire in your gut stretched and spread.

"Close your eyes and picture I'm there. What would I do, Kyungsoo? How am I touching you?"

"You're teasing me through my boxers," he struggled to answer. "Hand running up and down my cock."

"Do you want more? Or are you going to keep being stubborn?"

"More."

"Put me on speaker and take off your pants," you exhaled shakily. The sound quality lessened, but somehow you were able to hear more. The a/c was rattling in the background. You heard the distinct sound of a zipper. He huffed and grunted softly while fabric scratched and wrinkled over the receiver. "Did you listen?"

"They're off," Kyungsoo sighed pleasantly.

"Take off your shirt, too." The break was shorter that time. He hummed in questioning, waiting. "Stroke your cock nice and slow for me, sweetheart."

"Fuck your hand feels good." He sounded winded already.

"Run the other hand up your side and play with your nipples." You moaned as you switched to circle your clit. "You're doing so good for me, sweetheart." A sharp intake of air overcame the static on his side.

"Shit. You're gonna make me cum too early."

"As long as I can hear it."

"You're so naughty today." You weren't sure if he was annoyed or aroused by that fact.

"I can't wait to see what punishment you'll give me."

"Plural," he replied. "Punishments."

"Tighten your grip and go faster. Then scratch at your skin and pull your hair." Your quick orders didn't disappoint. You knew how to exploit what he likes. He sucked in a trembling breath and whimpered. "Does that feel good? Do you like how I'm touching you?"

"P-please...it hurts so fucking bad."

"What hurts, Soo?"

"Y-you..." He started over. "I do. I hurt. All over. It's been too long. It's so difficult not to cum." He was attempting to say it without saying it. That just wouldn't do.

"Be direct, sweetheart, or else I won't understand how to make it better. Where does it hurt the most?"

"My cock. My fucking cock hurts and my thighs are burning. Is that enough?" he practically begged. "Pulling my hair isn't working. It's just making me want it harder." His breathing grew louder and more ragged, drowning out any other noises in the background. Kyungsoo groaned angrily. "I'm fucking lightheaded, sugar. It's so fucking hard and slick from my precum and you're fucking around to amuse yourself."

"That's right..." you pretended to recall. "You said you were saving yourself for me. Do you think now's a good time?"

"I'm so ready for you, jagi. So ready to make a fucking mess everywhere. Anywhere you want it. Fucking take it all I can't--say it. Please say it."

"You want to cum with me, sweetheart?" The only answer you got was a whine. "Cum on my stomach. Ruin my pretty, unmarked skin. Give me what I want, Kyungsoo." He choked out another, more depraved whine. His panting grew louder, catching on every inhale and exhaling quickly in an attempt to prevent being too noisy. He sounded wrecked and you drank it all in, admiring how easily you could make him like this when you tried. In between one of his gulps of air he whispered your name reverently. You felt it like a gentle caress across your cheek. Eyes shut, your mind conjured the tingling sensation of his breath down your neck as if he was beside you, and it pushed you over the edge. Your grip on the phone shook as you arched off the mattress, falling on the pillow by your head. Your moaning triggered his release. He sounded far away and muffled, groans fracturing and tapering off into tiny, simpering mewls while he worked all the pent up frustration from his body. You eased yourself down before putting the phone back to your ear, satisfaction settling in your bones. You called his name softly.

"Sugar," he crooned tiredly. His rough, rich voice made your stomach do flips. "Thank you."

"Do you feel better?" He simply moaned, still trying to catch his breath.

"You sounded really sexy. Fuck you're amazing." Finally, you thought. He called you sexy. "I tried to keep myself quiet by biting my arm, but it really stings. How do you put up with me?" You laughed softly. Rolling to your side, you reached out and grabbed a pillow to hug. It was dark, but since your eyes adjusted you could see clean across to the window on the opposite wall. No body to block your way hogging all the covers and constantly moving around in his sleep. A weight pressed on your chest, so you curled more in on yourself. You really were missing Kyungsoo more than you thought. But he didn't need to hear you mention it all the time. He couldn't do anything about it, and you wanted to be as supportive as possible.

"Is it as big of a mess as you thought?"

"Yeah," he replied. You heard the smile in his voice. "I missed this feeling." A small hum and an overexagerrated smack of lips. "You would love the taste."

"Fucking tease," you muttered.

"See? It would've been better if we had waited. Then you would be able to see me."

"You could take a picture."

"I'm not that simple, jagi."

"I can hear your smug smirk," you shot back, making him chuckle. "You should probably clean yourself up so you can get some rest." More rustling and you recognized the little moan he made while stretching. It sounded clearer. He must have taken you off speaker.

"In a minute."

"Whatever you say. Just don't neglect your sleep. I'll talk to you again soon."

"Wait. Hold on." It went silent for a solid minute or so before he called your name in questioning.

"Yeah?"

"Don't send any more videos. Please. I don't think I can take it."

"Alright. I promise. I'll wait until you come back."

"Good, because when this ends we all get four days off in a row, and I don't think we're leaving bed."

"Four days with just you? Sounds like heaven," you agreed.

"I can't wait to see you again, jagi."

"Same here. It's lonely without you."

"Don't worry. I'll be back soon, and then we can move somewhere where I can make sure you're never lonely."

"You're such a sentimental dork," you grinned. His chuckle chimed through the phone again. You halted your farewell when there was a muffled, shocked shout on the other end of the call. A door slammed shut.

"Fucking at least put a sign on the door or something!" a new voice grumbled. "Jesus christ, Soo. You're usually more discreet about this. Miss Y/N much? You look like a hot fucking mess. Here's a towel. You shower first."

"Sorry jagi," Kyungsoo said to you. "Jongin came back. I need to go."

"Th-that...s-she was..I'm so sorry," the other boy stumbled over his words. You could practically hear his face getting red. "Please tell her I'm sorry. I-I swear I didn't mean to interrupt. If I had known I-I never--"

"He's funny when he's embarrassed," you mused.

"She doesn't care," Kyungsoo relayed. "We're done anyway." You snickered at his candor. You loved how blunt he was. It was part of his charm. Then he was back to talking to you. "Goodnight, jagi. Rest well."

"Sweet dreams, Kyungsoo."

After hanging up you got a message from him. Tapping on the notification, a video was downloading. You played it and immediately thanked every entity in existence you were alone. Kyungsoo was zoomed in too far as usual, dark hair falling away from his face and jutting out in odd angles, forehead shining with perspiration. He had a full face of makeup on. You were taken aback at first. He almost didn't look like him. His tiny blemishes and moles were covered and smoothed out, contouring tricking the camera into making his cheeks appear thinner. Shimmering highlighter swept across his cheekbones, and his eyes were much more prominent on his face. A thin line of eyeliner and precisely applied eyeshadow was smoked out to bring out his natural eye shape. His lips looked glossy and pinker than usual as well. You didn't have a lot of time to take it in, but it wasn't bad. Just...unexpected. The camera zoomed out, and you bit your bottom lip hard. The frame cut off at his navel, but you swore you felt your heart stop working for several seconds. His entire chest and stomach was smattered with his release, angry red marks clawed into his flesh randomly from his short fingernails. One line of liquid by his ribs was cascading down his side about to stain the overstuffed white comforter on the hotel bed. He used his free hand, starting at the 'v' in his hips. The camera was unstable, but you caught the irritated horseshoe teeth marks on his forearm. The pads of his fingers dragged slowly up his torso, smearing a few of the erratic, crooked lines. Up his heavily rising and falling stomach, over a nipple all the way to his clavicle. Halfway up he stretched and arched his back towards the camera. Staring transfixed while his skin pulled taut over muscle and bone briefly, a trail near the bottom of the frame crept upwards before he eased back onto the bed. The white contrasted his tan skin in such a tantalizing way. It did not help in the least that Kyungsoo had sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and was watching the camera. It was relaxed. Lazy almost, but the intimacy of it made it seem less pornographic. You were less lusting after him and more just in awe that he could do something like this at all. It was so outside his normal comfort zone. He must have been delirious from lack of sleep, you reasoned. As he brought his hand to his mouth, what had gathered dripped once on his chin before his tongue could go out and lick the stickiness from his fingers, an obscene moan falling past his lips. It was juxtaposed in his own perfectly strange way with those owlish, innocent eyes. They twinkled with amusement as his hand dropped tiredly onto his chest, uncaring of the steadily drying mess covering himself. He must have muted his mic to record this while you talked. The corner of his mouth quirked up, and the video ended. The message beneath:

"Thoughts?"

[groovepawn]

Beat.

It was a rare event for her to do something like this—to act on impulse without doubting her instinct and doubling back before she had the chance to ruin things. It was like her heart always led her astray, nothing good ever came from her true feelings, desires—anything that made up the “real” Shiki... but before she could prepare for the worst, he was already returning the impulsive gesture with the same reckless enthusiasm as her. The hair on her neck stood on end as he pulled her closer yet—to the point where she was nearly sitting in his lap. A pathetic little whimper barely resounds in her throat as she’s caught between horrible reluctance, and not caring about anything else at all.

The feeling of someone who found her appealing enough (“beautiful” even,) putting his hands on her, kissing her like this, to want her at all… all while having seen the ugliest side of her personality not moments before?

It was dangerously addictive—and Beat was an enabler.

He pulls away, but just barely—heavy exhales falling from their lips unsynchronized as he rests his forehead to hers. He didn’t look at her right away, and she was almost glad; she couldn’t hide the humiliatingly vulnerable expression she wore, her face burning up as if over the metaphorical flame she’d lit. His words start to half-pull her back to reality, the tone of his winded voice so remarkably smooth in comparison to her entire being, but she still doesn’t know what she’s supposed to do in a situation like this… what do you say to a person you just did something like that with? Well, he seemed to know.

“That was hot.”

Like whiplash, she snaps back to reality with his profound proclamation. That, dear Beat, was where you hit her limit. “W-What?!” her voice squeaks. She’d never been called beautiful before now—so she’d certainly never heard that either. “N-No, no, you—!” As if just realizing the situation, she practically throws herself from him, fumbling for a second before she can turn away to hide this fluster that was somehow different and worse than every other, in her entire life, up until this point. “I’m not—I’m—nothing like that!” She was a good little Christian girl in all but the going to church and believing in God and being Christian part.

She pauses for a second, hands lifting to hide the embarrassment on her face as she realized she didn’t disagree. “But, you can…” a nervous exhale as “they” were still undefined—matching a voice so timid, he may not have heard her if he wasn’t listening closely, “do that whenever you want to.”

[verkoh]

It’s (̶n̶o̶t̶) fine; A morbid nightmare.

Arms. Legs. A moving, disjointed mass of limbs and eyes, all moving unsynchronized. A cacophonic tragedy.

A catastrophic horror.

Eyes, too many, look this and that way. Seem to want to seek out each and every person, simultaneously. Blues, greens, browns. A gut-wrenching testament to how many souls were lost in the creation of such a morbid creature.

It moves, and this time it is not Aurhik who stands in its way. Not Lily or her shield, or Kyza and his blades.

It is Hathaway, unarmored, with his mysterious bruises and worn out eyes. Looking so small and tired in the path of a rampaging monster, without even a glance towards his would-be destroyer. She has no breath, no air to use to scream for her friend; blue eyes not so unlike her own stare straight at her, and it is Rhysa who must look away, ice clawing at her heart, half-seconds before she would witness the death of her very first friend, and then...

...She blinks, and the scene is changed.

When she looks back, the mangled monstrosity is gone. Hathaway is gone. Each without a trace, and not a single imprint left to indicate they were there in the first place. Not only vanished, but replaced.

A feathered hat adorns a woefully familiar figure, and the Keeper can do naught but stare in mute horror for a long moment. ..No. No. Why would he be here? Black liquid pools around midnight boots, and it is with a horrible jerk that Rhysa recognizes the terrible, damning liquid. Poison. Yet still, she cannot move, rooted where she stands, only a dozen fulms away.

Unlike her snowy-haired friend, Vasir'li does not look at her. Does not look at anything. Vile, viscous liquid seeps into his clothing, and she can only watch as it seems to climb. Finally, when black ink spreads over a beloved gold chain, and shambling corpses begin stumbling out of ruined architecture, the low-hanging brim of his hat finally tilts up, but it is not silver that meets her gaze.

It is black. Pure, solid black. No pupil, no sclera... Just like that child.

She screams, but no sound escapes. His—Its mouth opens...

"Rhysa?"

With a sharp jerk, her eyes open wide at the soprano call of her name, flashing to meet concerned blues of another shade. Rhysa can feel her heart racing, and knows she must look terribly spooked, if the furrow of Liri's brow is anything to go by. Throat bone dry, she is still working to bring some kind of moisture to it when the Seeker speaks again, voicing the inevitable question.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Her reply comes hoarse, spoken too quickly on a freshly-awoken voice. It is not the most convincing of answers, and yet still it is the only one she can bring herself to offer; Anything else would betray too much. Would mean admitting to more than only herself just how affected she's been by all that’s happened.

No. She was fine. She is fine.

It’s fine.

Everything was fine.

Maybe if she continued to say it, she’d eventually believe it.

Mentions: @vasir-li , Hathaway Snow, @lirivahnis . (Briefly) @themyriadmen , @kyzacakes , @aegis-fate

[underconstruction2017-blog]

The Script

Under Construction by Charles Mee Reconstructed by Kaley Bunce, Sofia Cassidy, and Juliet Shelton

ORDER

Younger No Pig & Hairbrushing

Middle L.A. & The Woman in the Red Dress & Film Noir & Women

Older The Arts & Bad Stuff & I Remember & Mrs. Bridge

Younger Scenes:

Scene 68. No Pig

[A guy comes out to speak. After a few moments, while he speaks, another guy comes out and begins to dance— without any musical accompaniment— dancing not even to the spoken text, rather just dancing in his own quiet world.]

We ended up living in a tiny apartment in a house owned by an Indian couple in Flushing, Queens. My stepmother cried the whole first night. We've come to America, and look at this apartment! It was one of those Archie Bunker neighborhoods. You know when you watch All in the Family, that first aerial shot with all those tiny homes right next to each other? That's exactly where we lived.

I got left back a year at the local public school because I didn't know English. I didn't know how to say "May I go to the bathroom?'

or "I don't know what you're saying." My desk was right in front of the teacher's desk and I would sit there all day and not go to the bathroom until I went home. Then I got a little picture book and I would point to a picture of a toilet and the teacher would know, OK, it's time to go to the bathroom. My teacher told my stepmother at a parent-teacher conference that I wasn't learning English fast enough.

When I came home my father was extremely upset with me. He told me, in Farsi, that I must be stupid. I had the hardest time trying to tell the cafeteria lady that I couldn't eat pork. My father taught me how to say, NO PIG! NO PIG! It took about a month for the cafeteria lady to realize I couldn't eat pork. Whenever they were having pork products, she would make me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, which was horrible, because I hated peanut butter and jelly! So I didn't eat anything. Then my father told me to say chicken, but I would say "kitchen" instead of chicken. It took me so long to differentiate between the two. Imagine me: "KITCHEN! NO PIG! NO PIG!"

Scene 5. Hair Brushing

four women all brush one girl's hair and then each other's

SOMEONE SAYS What they say is there are rules. And everyone knows what they are. Number 1. Have dinner ready: Plan ahead, even the night before, to have a delicious meal—on time. This is a way of letting him know that you have been thinking about him and are concerned about his needs.

SOMEONE ELSE SAYS Number 2. Prepare yourself. Take 15 minutes to rest so you will be refreshed when he arrives. Touch up your makeup

put a ribbon in your hair and be fresh looking. Be a little zestful and a little more interesting.

SOMEONE ELSE SAYS Number 3. Minimize the noise. At the time of his arrival eliminate all noise of washer, dryer, dishwasher or vacuum. Be happy to see him.

Greet him with a warm smile and be glad to see him.

And then there is a radio voiceover? and the girls answer variously yes, no, etc etc all in a jumbled unison

RADIO VOICE Are you fit for marriage? To help you decide for yourself, the author presents in this article several tests that are being used throughout the country to determine individual fitness for marriage. By taking the three tests that follow and studying the results, you can measure your own marital aptitudes. Give serious thought to the result and you will find it's likely taking out a personal love-insurance policy that pays dividends throughout your married life. Are you 21 or over?

VARIOUS VOICES Yes Yes No Yes No

RADIO VOICE Are or were your parents happily married?

VARIOUS VOICES Very happy Average Above average I'd say average Unhappy

Were you happy as a child? Very happy Unhappy Average Average To what degree were you punished as a child? Often and severely Rarely but severely Never Often but mildly Mildly Where did you first learn about sex? Don't remember From other children From strange adults books What is your present attitude toward sex? Disgust Necessary evil Indifferent Pleasant anticipation Intense interest Have you ever wanted to be of the opposite sex? Never as a child, yes As an adolescent As an adult As an adult? Yes! How do you rate with your partner in mental ability? Slightly inferior Definitely inferior Very similar Slightly superior Very superior How do you rate with your partner in willingness to cooperate? Definitely inferior Very similar Slightly superior Very superior Is your religion the same as your partner's?

Yes No Yes Yes No Have you a tendency to be careless or disorderly? Yes No Yes No Are you uncommonly bossy? Yes No Yes No Yes For the Man: Does he insist on having his own way? Always Frequently Occasionally Seldom Never For the woman: Has she a mean disposition? Frequently Seldom Never Never When his luck goes bad does he brood over it and look for your sympathy? Yes No Sometimes Yes No Does she try to please you? Always Frequently Occasionally Seldom Never Is he usually stubborn and insistent in his demands? Yes No sometimes Yes No Can you get him to change his mind? Always Frequently Occasionally Seldom Never Does she try to make you miserable if you so much as look at another woman? Yes No yes, no Yes Does he expect you to shower him with attention and affection in public? Yes No Yes No Yes Does she create scenes in public places?

Yes No Yes Yes Yes Do you believe implicitly in your partner's: Good Judgment? Yes No Yes No Honesty? Yes Yes Yes No Fidelity?

[silence]

Middle Scenes:

Scene 472. L.A.

This could be spoken by a man or a woman:

My head is a lot better in LA There's always a feeling when I am sitting here driving around in the car, coming back into the studio, in and out in my head, and in and out of reality.... If you know my work, you know that things are never finished.... so then you have a lot of narrative threads that interweave self-portraiture fictional characters cultural commentary and much more drama humor slapstick critique theatricality enrepreneurship attitude quests discoveries self-sampling internal recycling auto-cannibalism

revelations cosmologies. Coming together and coming apart and becoming something else free-form random non-hierarchical

everywhere and nowhere. And then you need an overview because or at least a point of view because all trees and no forest means there isn't any difference between here and there even though you still want to be everywhere and nowhere. It's all a blur and the blur could be permanent that would be OK a blur, that's a cool thing, too. I understand art as the pursuit of something. As it is pulling me in this direction I don't quite understand why I am going in this direction. It is important that each piece creates a territory for me to go in like a direction that is opening up. In this piece, which is called Perfect World, the thing is you can fall off of it and it can kill you. You can walk on this surface but it has these holes these cracks and then these soft spots, these traps, where it's just papered over. I wanted to build this thing which somehow mimics real life. I am not interested in artists who close things down, I am interested in situations which open things up. That is just an optimistic perspective. I want to build a work which includes the public but does not exclude the artist.

If you imagine you have children one is a drug-addict with crack one is a drug addict with ecstasy one is thirteen and has four kids and one is kind of a genius.

It is important to see each one in relationship to the other one in relationship to yourself. It is about seeing where all the positive parts are in the things that you have created.

You have to deal with them. You have to like them all the same. Because what we have come to learn is that the future is made not by arguing well but by speaking differently. And speaking differently: that's the job of poets. Because truth is not something we discover; truth is something we create. How it is to be a human being is something we decide not because of how it has always been but because whether or not it has ever been that way before, this is who we want to be and how we want to behave now. Just because, in the past, there have been slaveholders and patriarchs we are not destined to live the same way forever. The reason people study history is so that they can see the way things are is not the only way they have been or the only way that they can be. It is up to us to see what human nature can become.

Scene 92. The Woman in the Red Dress

music overwhelms the scene and the woman in the red dress enters dancing

then a guy enters another guy enters a bunch of people are entering from every direction wild music

unsynchronized frenzy until finally all 10 or 12 are making the same gesture together, scattered over the stage, but dancing the same gestures and moves and maybe this could happen, too:

at a certain point, a woman is lying on the floor a guy leans down and locks lips with her and raises her from the floor into a flamenco-like dance with lips permanently locked in a kiss they go on and on and on and on and on until he passes out and falls to the ground in a heap she turns to another guy and locks lips with him immediately and they dance but she stops them, interrupts the dance to tell him he is dancing the wrong way they lock lips and dance again she stops to correct him again ditto ditto until she spins around, grabs the sleeve of his shirt and rips it then he is pissed they argue they argue and argue and argue and argue and argue till the guy turns front and takes a dance posture and flexes his bicep he flexes his bicep to the music 5 guys join him in bicep flexing dance all in unison then they all do a hip thrust very macho then turns upstage and wiggle their butts (not SO macho) they move through other male display dance moves finger snapping,etc then three women step up and do the same male display moves

Scene 79. Film Noir

NARRATOR When they reached the dark hallway, she slowed their walk.

WESLEY Tired?

VANESSA No. It's just that I want to be kissed.

NARRATOR She looked at him gravely. He walked away, and she followed him. It was a long time before he spoke.

WESLEY When you get to be my age, you won't take things so lightly.

VANESSA I don't take them lightly now.

WESLEY You may be a minx, for all I know.

VANESSA I'm not sure what that means.

WESLEY Look it up. VANESSA Where?

WESLEY Well, I have a fine dictionary in my cabin. Let's both look it up.

NARRATOR He wished that he could have cut that last speech.

VANESSA Let's go to mine where there are no dictionaries at all.

NARRATOR With a surge of dizzying feeling he wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything. Vanessa led him toard her cabin. The night steward sitting in the corridor said, Good evening, and vanished.

She whispered:

VANESSA Won't you come in? I'll make you some scrambled eggs.

NARRATOR She laughed, stepped into the cabin, held open the door, and he was drawn magnetically in. She closed the door. They stood in the blackness and she waited a full minute before turning on a light. She moved to the table and fixed two drinks.

WESLEY Not until I know who you are.

NARRATOR She handed him his glass and took a thoughtful sip from her own.

VANESSA Vanessa Foley

NARRATOR she said

VANESSA and I'm sort of mad about you.

WELSEY Sort of.

VANESSA Really.

Another story:

NARRATOR They passed from the road into a meadow. The long grasses whispered to their slow tread. He ignored the heavy dew which soaked his shoes until he realized that he was not caring for her....

WILBUR Sakes alive! You'll catch your death of cold. Let's sit on this gate.

NARRATOR He had spoken so softly that the charm was not shattered, and, swathed in glory, they perched on the three-barred wooden gate of a barbed wire fence. She sat on a lower bar and leaned her head against his knee. He instinctively stroked her cheek.

WILBUR I've never felt so happy before. I don't want ever to lose you. Can't we be married? I'm not worthy....

MYRTLE Wilbur, you don't love me! It's just the moonlight and walking with a woman. You don't know what you want yet. You wouldn't propose to me if it were a hot afternoon, a muggy, wilty afternoon, and we were walking down Main Street.

WILBUR But you do like me. And when we're both lonely....

MYRTLE Probably no one will ever love me as I want. Why should they? I'm just a little hat trimmer with a love for tea and cats!

WILBUR You aren't. You are the one person I could love if you could only understand how much I mean it.

NARRATOR And as he said it he knew he didn't quite mean it; he knew he was merely living up to the magic moment, and he listened to his own high-pitched voice going on in poetic periods unnatural to him....

WILBUR When I look into your eyes I see all the fairy stories my mother used to read to me....

MYRTLE But you don't want a lady story teller. You want a nice home and somebody to send out the laundry for you. I understand. I often want a home myself. But I'm funny. I distrust sentimentality. You ought to think what you're saying....

NARRATOR Suddenly she was crying in sobs accumulated through years of loneliness. She crouched on the lower bar of the gate

and hid her eyes against his knee. Her hat fell off and her hair was a little disordered. Yet this touch of prosaicness did not shock him. It brought her near to him, made her not a moon wraith, but a person like himself. He patted her shoulder till she sat up and laughed a little, and they strolled back toward the town.

And he: the overwrought self that had sung of love and fairy tales was gone. But he felt toward her a sincere and eager affection.

Scene 103. Women

THE WOMAN SAYS The blue-collar worker is the backbone of our society, Society needs the services and products they provide, whether the workers themselves dream of something better or not. Many of them love their jobs, too— that doesn't change that quite a few of them aren't qualified to do much else. There's no shame in that.

Not that this is why I did it. Not that I am saying that. Luckily, that was never my reason. I was not forced into it in that way. It was my choice.

Not everyone can be a prostitute. You do need a special talent. It's definitely a hell of a hard, fucking job. You need enormous amounts of patience,

enormous amounts of compassion. You have to put up with a lot of shit. It's like being in a war— you're in a war zone.

You're in a society which is misogynistic and full of sexual guilt, and you take that shit on. It can get to you. I compare it a lot to being a nurse.

I had a transsexual, hermaphroditic lover for a while— a female to male, transsexual, surgically made hermaphrodite.

A new option for people. That's one of the great things about living these days. My new lover is totally androgynous. I think it's beautiful.

These days, you see men dressing as women wearing monkey boots, and women dressing as men but with false eyelashes. Now, everything's getting mixed together which I really like.

And strap-on dildos, of course, are really being used a lot to play with gender. Women are getting these big dicks— it's great. And they really know how to use them. It's so real. And of course it never gets soft.

My friend Trish is really good at thrusting. Women aren't generally as good at thrusting, but she has really got it down. Her dick is totally real to her

and I suck it like it's real and I feel like she feels everything that I do. It's just beautiful. The technology has vastly improved. When I first got into porno movies they were tied on with pieces of elastic and were really flimsy. These were invented by men, but now women are designing these fabulously beautiful leather strap-on things.

Older Scenes:

Scene 68. The Arts

A country store. A string quartet comes on, finds chairs, adjust their instruments, tune up, and we just listen to some beautiful Bach while how-to drawings from the Great Artists school or paint-by-numbers paintings are projected

And after a while, over the music, Bill Dow steps up and reads his poem:

BILL DOW Many people from many lands Are living here as one. They work together, learn together For them living is fun.

This nation of ours is a powerful one, It's known from shore to shore. But as it grows, as everyone knows, Cooperation is needed even more.

Rivers, valleys, mountains, plains, Make up our beautiful land. America is a wonderful place, Made by God's own hand.

Scene 49. Bad Stuff

A guy comes out with bloody hands, blood up to his elbows and he stands and shows them to the audience as three young women wearing Victoria's Secret lingerie are brought in on leashes by a guy with a whip and a black cripple, badly burned from head to foot, stumbles in, falls, and writhes on the ground and another guy brings in a guy on a leash who hops up and down and an old Mafia don comes in wearing sunglasses and stands there and a guy comes in on his knees,

walks on his knees along the front of the stage and goes out again all the while some great popular music is playing.

And it may be that on the rear wall is projected a still, or moving scroll with as much of this Jennie Holzer text on it as seems enough:

a little knowledge can go a long way a lot of professionals are crackpots a man can't know what it is to be a mother a positive attitude means all the difference in the world a sense of timing is the mark of genius a sincere effort is all you can ask all things are delicately interconnected ambivalence can ruin your life any surplus is immoral anything is a legitimate area of investigation at times your unconsciousness is truer than your conscious mind bad intentions can yield good results being alone with yourself is increasingly unpopular being happy is more important than anything else children are the hope of the future decency is a relative thing

don't place too much trust in experts eating too much is criminal enjoy yourself because you can't change anything anyway every achievement requires a sacrifice everyone's work is equally important exceptional people deserve special concessions good deeds eventually are rewarded grass roots agitation is the only hope if you live simply there is nothing to worry about ignoring enemies is the best way to fight illness is a state of mind it's better to be a good person than a famous person it's not good to operate on credit it's vital to live in harmony with nature just believing something can make it happen keep something in reserve for emergencies killing is unavoidable but nothing to be proud of listen when your body talks men are not monogamous by nature murder has its sexual side

pain can be a very positive thing people are responsible for what they do unless they are insane people won't behave if they have nothing to lose raise boys and girls the same way redistributing wealth is imperative religion causes as many problems as it solves remember you always have freedom of choice romantic love was invented to manipulate women sometimes science advances faster than it should sometimes things seem to happen of their own accord starvation is nature's way sterilization is a weapon of the rulers the desire to reproduce is a death wish the family is living on borrowed time the idea of revolution is an adolescent fantasy the new is nothing but a restatement of the old the only way to be pure is to stay by yourself true freedom is frightful you are a victim of the rules you live by you can't expect people to be something they're not

Scene 99. I Remember

While television news footage of war— and, or, if there is more than one screen, of war and race riots and other violence— is projected, this text is spoken by one man. or else one man begins and then one or two or three others join him.

I remember many Sunday afternoon dinners of fried chicken or pot roast.

I remember my father's collection of arrowheads.

I remember loafers with pennies in them.

I remember game rooms in basements.

I remember "come as you are" parties. Everybody cheated.

I remember drugstore counter stools with no backs, and swirling around and around on them.

I remember two-dollar bills. And silver dollars.

I remember "Double Bubble" gum comics and licking off the sweet "powder."

I remember catching myself with an expression on my face that doesn't relate to what's going on anymore.

I remember the little "thuds" of bugs bumping up against the screens at night.

I remember when polio was the worst thing in the world. I remember my first cigarette. It was a Kent. I remember my first erections.

I thought I had some terrible disease or something.

I remember the only time I ever saw my mother cry. I was eating apricot pie.

I remember when, in high school, if you wore green and yellow on Thursday it meant you were queer.

I remember an American history teacher who was always threatening to jump out the window if we didn't quiet down. (Second floor.)

I remember Liberace.

I remember pony tails.

I remember driftwood lamps.

I remember potato salad.

I remember salt on watermelon.

I remember lightning.

I remember my father in a tutu. As a ballerina dancer in a variety show at church.

I remember getting erections in school and the bell rings and how handy zipper notebooks were.

I remember not looking at crippled people. I remember chalk.

I remember daydreams of dying and how unhappy everybody would be.

I remember the sound of the ice cream man coming.

I remember once losing my nickel in the grass before he made it to my house.

I remember that life was just as serious then as it is now.

And then, at the end, hard rock music comes on, they all dance in the same way the women did at the beginning of the piece— a wild, ecstatic, enraged, abandoned, insane messy hair dance at the end of which they simply stop and walk off without ceremony.

Scene 36. Mrs. Bridge

woman in red dress entering, dancing solo with floor lamp looking for a place to put it no dialogue here, just music? Benny Goodman or Guy Lombardo or Bing Crosby trying the lamp here, not liking it,

trying it there, not liking it, trying it somewhere else, finally placing the lamp and exiting