#i just know their social circle is bone dry

[cringefailvox]

i love that between the vees, velvette has the worst diplomacy, val has the worst boundaries, and vox has the worst impulse control. kings of peer alienation

[boobo13cambridge]

Sheila Ki Jawani | Kylian Mbappé

"I know you want it, but you're never gonna get it.

Tere haath kabhi na aani

(I will never come into your hands)

Maane na maane koi duniya yeh saari,

(Whether anyone believes it or not,)

Mere ishq ki hai deewani.

(This whole world is crazy behind me.)"

The music was blasting from the Bluetooth speaker that Kylian had got you for Valentine's Day after you had complained to him that your iPhone wasn't enough to jam to your favorite songs while getting ready.

Kylian, ever the attentive one, couldn't possibly not buy his bébé anything she asked for. Carefully applying the shade Limitless on your eyelids from your Huda Beauty palette, you were jamming to one of your favorite songs of all time while getting ready for your friend's birthday party. You were so happy that Kiara decided to make it Bollywood-themed because you wanted to wear the gold saree that your mother had gotten for you from her trip to India last month.

"Ab dil karta hai haule haule se,

(Now slowly my heart wants,)

Main toh khud ko gale lagaun.

(Me to embrace myself.)"

You continued shaking your hips in a sensual motion while you curled your lashes and applied a coat of mascara. To be honest, you were running a bit late and hoped Kylian wouldn't come home too soon so you could blame any tardiness on him. As a girl, you felt that being on time was overrated; no matter how much you prepared in advance, it didn't matter. What can you say? Beauty can't be hurried.

"Kisi aur ki mujhko zaroorat kya,

(I don't need anyone else,)

Main toh khud se pyar jataun.

(I'll express my love to myself.)"

This was your favorite part of the song. While waiting for the eyelash glue to dry, you struck a pose at every line.

"What's my name?

What's my name?

What's my name?

My name is Sheila, Sheila ki jawani.

(My name is Sheila, young Sheila.)

I'm too sexy for you,

Main tere haath na aani.

(I will never come into your hands.)

No no no no Shei-"

"Having fun, mon amour?" your husband's voice cut through the music as you stood there, your index finger shaking in front of the mirror with your expression stuck in a deer caught in the headlights motion.

Smirking, your husband stood there leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed.

"Kyky! What a surprise! I didn't know you were going to be home so early!" you blushed, trying to quickly put your lashes on, while wholly ignoring the fact that you were obviously late.

"Early, bébé? Really? T'es sérieuse?" he said, raising his eyebrows and walking behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. "It's 8:00 pm, and we are supposed to leave by 8:15 pm."

"Honestly, Ky. When you really think about it, does it really matter? I mean, it's an Indian birthday party; no one's on time," you rambled on while applying your primer. "Besides, time is just a con-"

"Bébé,"

"-cept. According to Allen Bluedor, time is a result -"

"Bébé,"

"of humans interacting with each other -"

"BÉBÉ!"

"-and socialization processes," you trailed off as he spun you around in his arms and gave you a stern look that made you immediately shut up. Kylian looked positively over your antics, as his dark eyes peered into your soul. The stern press of his mouth made it clear that he was less than impressed with your incorrigible habit of not getting ready on time.

"Qu'est-ce que je t'avais dit la semaine passée quand on a failli être en retard pour la fête à ma mère?" he asked, his thumb tracing circles on your exposed hip bone. There was a predatory gleam in his eyes that had your pulse suddenly racing. A slight shiver went down your spine as you had a hard time looking into his eyes.

"Euh, que j'étais vraiment belle et que de toute façon on avait juste failli être en retard?" you said while fluttering your eyes at him. You knew you were in trouble when you felt his hands tighten around your hips, as he frowned and pursed his lips, almost surprised by your audacity.

"Et maintenant, tu mens, eh?" his growly voice sent a spark of heat into your lower belly as he slowly backed you into the counter. Feeling the edge digging into your back, you placed your hands on the planes of his chest, the soft fabric of his black kurta providing comfort despite the tension in the air.

His right hand, which was on your hip, slid up your body slowly, wrapping around your throat and giving it a light squeeze. Your breath hitched as you felt your panties dampening.

"I asked you a question, and I expect an honest answer, bébé."

"Okay, fine. You told me that if I were late one more time, you would bend me over your knees…"

"Don't get shy on me now, princesse. You've literally had my cock in your mouth."

"Oh my god, Ky. You're such a perv sometime."

"Answer me."

"You would bend me over your knees and spank my ass raw," you mumbled quickly.

"Unfortunately, mon amour, I don't have time to bend you over my knees but I'm sure this counter will do," he said while his left hand slid down your ass, giving it a possessive squeeze.

"Turn around, and bend over."

At this point, you were so turned on that you wanted him to do it, all previous traces of nervousness vanishing from your body as if it was never there in the first place. Gulping, you bit your lip, as you slowly turned around and bent over the cold countertop. you weren't wearing a bra underneath your silk robe, so your nipples were hard as they touched the cool surface.

You heard Kylian inhale sharply as he slowly lifted your flimsy robe, gradually exposing your derrière. You heard him curse as he caressed your soft flesh. A sharp smack on your ass had you whimpering as the sting left behind a film of ecstasy in your soul.

"You're going to count for me now, bébé," he said, his commanding voice slowly seducing you into submission.

"One…" The word barely left your lips when Kylian let out a snort, shaking his head not in amused disbelief at your antics. "T'es drôle. Celui-là ne compte pas."

Despite the dark lust clouding his deep brown eyes, a glint of mischief and a touch of affection shone through. You drove him absolutely mental but he loved every second of it.

"T'es méchant, tu sais," you retorted, a pout forming on your lips, challenging his authority with your audacity.

Smack.

"Deux," you said, your voice laced with defiance, determined to test his limits as the sting of his slap reverberated through you. Glancing at your reflection in the mirror, the person staring back seemed almost like a stranger. A flush of red painted your cheekbones, a vivid testament to the intensity of the moment, while your teeth sank into your plump bottom lip.

"You're such a brat. I shouldn't let you cum for a week," he admonished, his tone firm as he caressed the bruised flesh.

"No! How could you even think of doing that?" You protested breathlessly, alarmed that he would even dare deny you your pleasure.

Just as he was about to retort, the sudden ring of your phone sliced through the charged atmosphere of the room, the beginning notes of Standing Next to You breaking the intimate bubble that you were both confined in.

"Who is it, Ky?" Your voice was curious, a slight edge of impatience cutting through as you tried to peek over his shoulder at the glowing phone screen.

"Oh putain, it's Kiara."

"Oh shit, she's going to kill us. We're so late." The words tumbled out of your mouth, a laugh hiding just beneath the surface, acknowledging that your best friend was about to tear you a new one.

"I wonder whose fault that is, mon amour," Kylian smirked, his gaze teasing and accusatory all at once.

"Ugh, get over it, Ky."

Smack.

"Cheeky brat." His words were a playful growl, the affectionate smack a punctuation to your ongoing banter. "C'mon, let me help you with your saree."

"Je t'aime, bébé." you said blowing a kiss in his direction, giving him a quick peck.

He just rolled his eyes at your antics, the gesture full of love and a resigned acceptance of your playful nature.

╚══════╝ A/N╚══════╝

Hi lovelies! I had this in the drafts and finally decided to post it! Yay 😁

I think I’m leaning towards writing short prompts because i have a hard time doing longer ones.

Anyways, I hope you guys like it 😊😊

[jackiesarch]

— WHAT’S AT YOUR OC’S CORE?

tagged by mine beloved @corvosattano to destroy my children in cold blood with this uquiz — thank you! ❤️

tagging @shellibisshe @cptcassian @delicateweapon @thedeadthree @belorage @inafieldofdaisies @gwynbleidd @adelaidedrubman @firstaidspray @faarkas @risingsh0t @queennymeria @florbelles @shallow-gravy @socially-awkward-skeleton @nightbloodbix @henbased @roofgeese @marivenah (opt in or out here!)

— RESOUNDING TRUTH

you have a goal in mind, and others brush it off right away... why does everyone always tell you to follow your dreams when it's actually their dreams that they want you to follow? your memory is weak, and your conviction is even weaker on days when you're reminded of how alone you really are. it's hard to go on without someone pushing you forward... is this what life is? a cycle of monotony, fueled only by the desire not to trouble anyone too much with your passing? it would be nice to have something, or someone, to spur you on. i hope you find them.

— FRACTURED GLASS

no amount of orchestrated class is ever going to hide the fact that you’re doomed to be alone. you’re a puppet, you’re a weapon, but most importantly? you’re a fraud. your facade isn’t malicious, but that doesn’t change a thing. everything in your life is in your control now, and you chose to let yourself become stiff and distant. you’re guilty of everything you blame yourself for, and your misfortune is the fault of nobody but yourself. your selfish nature forges you into a man-made monster, so quick to blame and so desperate to escape consequence. i hope that you can become someone you’re proud of soon.

— SPUN GOSSAMER

the easiest thing to do is stay quiet when something’s up. you’re not bothered, and you know what? you shouldn’t be! it’s none of your business, even when it’s entirely your business. it’s difficult (read: impossible) to tell if your cheery demeanor is a cover-up for something sadder, or if it’s simply your natural state of mind. you see a lot of things: people coming through town, people leaving the house and never coming back, lies and deceit of the highest degree. what happened to you? will you ever be that kid again? your presence smells like cotton candy, and your fingertips sparkle like stars. whatever white rabbit you’re chasing isn’t going to lead you to wonderland if you don’t start reaching out when you’re not feeling okay.

— ANIMAL INTUITION

loyalty is the saint you pray to. if you ever were stabbed in the back by your beloved, you'd probably apologize. to your enemies, you're fierce. to your allies, even fiercer. you cultivate a thick inner circle built on promises and devotion, fit only for the best of the best. it's impossible for most to even begin to dissect the type of person you are, owing to your unbreakable emotional walls and confusing philosophies. dream careers? body guard, movie star, unwitting pawn. don't let people get the best of that loyalty.

— FLIMSY CONVICTION

your confidence in yourself seems fairly weak. it's easy enough for your friends and peers to ask if you're okay, but what's the point? you're just going to say you're doing fine, you're doing alright, you don't need anything at all. your selfless pursuit of what's important to you has stripped you dry, rinsed you clean like pork bones for soup. there's only so much to keep running from and only so much to hold back until you explode. it's okay to not be okay!

— SILENT ADMISSION

in tarot, the fool is numbered 0 – the number of unlimited potential. as the protagonist, he is ever present and therefore needs no number as well as no introduction. the world revolves around you in ways that i can't begin to describe, though you'd shrug it off if i were to begin to explain. i need you to know that time is running out. if you want to get this done, you need to start now. sloth is your greatest enemy in this world, and you can only run so far from the opposition when you start with such a disadvantage. keep your head high, yeah? the kid you were is still in there somewhere. you need to show him that it was worth it.

[oddhellscape]

watched saltburn (1 am brainspill/analysis)

tldr; oliver is a fucking psychopath and worships until his knees are raw to the bone but that won't stop him in the slightest

i thought this was an incredible story centered around obsession and a worship of the top of the top, the rich, the Circle (tm) and the abhorrent things someone would do to be at the pinnacle of social class.

and no, this is not an "eat the rich" film. oliver had no intention of "dismantling" the system or anything like that; yes it uncovers how dysfunctional extremely wealthy families are, but that isn't the core point of the movie. he wanted to be a part of it, he wanted to be them, so badly it wholly consumed him.

oliver really had it, though. felix kissed him and invited him places and put him in the center (also because oliver let himself be seen that way) ((and because felix grew up in a household with no control himself. all kids w strict parents understand that the second you go to college, it's balls-to-the-wall freedom. his lack of control gave him a sense of power upon meeting oliver-- now, there was someone he could take care of, exert power that he never had)) but oliver had him by the collar. he was in felix's goddamned mansion, and hell, felix probably loved him too.

but oliver, the psychopath, had to keep taking. he was obsessed with the prestige-- of being revered--probably hence why he went to oxford, and he knows nothing else besides taking.

but that was oliver's fatal flaw-- he actually fell in love. of course, love is used as a broad term here but (keep in mind ive only watched this once) oliver loved him both as a person, as felix, and as a concept. his obsession doubled (first with the power felix holds with just his last name, and then getting to actually know him) oliver so so badly wanted to be who he was it translated over into i must be him. hence the emotional bond he built with the mother (men are so dry) and taking felix's place once he passed.

oliver loved felix like humans love god, i think. Humans fashion a god made from a mirror and devote themselves to embodying Him so much they consume Him entirely.

^ which is to say, by absolute worship. GOD the religious imagery was delectable. the scene where he kissed the top of the cross... amazing. I also loved the many scenes with oliver on his knees - over farleigh, over the bathtub, over elspeth, over felix's grave... how easily he kneels to those he reveres in order to take what he wants, but it comes easily because he's completely enraptured; his desire is carnal, all-consuming, looming, deplorable, yet so freeing (hence the ending dance scene. of course, no psychopath is satiated with just one victory)

i'll have to rewatch it to precisely follow the storyline but this was a nice change of pace. im a huge fan of offputting media and freaky little dudes so i absolutely enjoyed this film going in blind. definitely not what i was expecting, but something i definitely enjoyed :]

[dailyaudiobiblechronological]

10/11/2023 DAB Chronological Transcription part 4

Announcements

Daily Audio Bible, That's home base. Check it out if you have not downloaded the app. It's a great place to be a great community to be a part of, and there's several different ways for you to be a part of this community, especially if you are just feeling alone and isolated. There are people here, Waiting for you. They've been waiting for you, and you can just jump on in. The door is always welcome and the welcome mat says come as you are, we'll talk about those ways that you can be a part of this community, in just a second. if you would like to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, we thank you so much for this Partnership. We could not do it without you. DAB PO Box 1996, Spring Hill TN Tennessee 37174. If you're giving by mail or if you've downloaded the app, you can hit the give icon up at the top right hand corner of your mobile device. Or lastly, look for the icon on the website as well. if you need prayer, That's one way to be a part of this community. If you'd like to pray for someone that's previously called in several different ways for you to do so, 800-583-2164 or utilizing that app again, hit the red circle button. It's up at the top right hand corner of your app. You have two minutes on the prayer line. Hit submit, turn the wheel to chronological and it will get to the right place or look for the Prayer wall that is both on the website and the app itself. Just hit the menu icon, look for the prayer wall and that will be a situation where you type it out rather than speak it out. And there are people there willing ready available to pray for you no matter the time of day this is Global community. So while some are sleeping, some are working and vice versa. While it's light somewhere, it's dark somewhere and vice versa. And that's a beautiful thing. There is always a log burning on the global campfire. That's going to do it for me today. We will turn the page together tomorrow and I look forward to it every day. We will learn more about Jesus. I look forward to that very much so I'm Jill until then.Love one another.

Community Prayer Line

Hey, my dynamic DABC found this. Kingdom Seeker Daniel. Family, I Want to lift up a couple of our DABCer’s, If you join me, I'd appreciate it. Father, I lift up Kira, contrite spirit and her beloved son Niche. We thank you in advance, God that Salvation belongs to you. And that's what we're coming on behalf of Niche for. We want to see this young man saved. We want to see him healed, We want to see him delivered, and we want to see him with the mental breakthrough over these drugs of meth. Father, there's nothing You cannot do, and therefore God, we are calling upon your name, because your name is the name that every demon of drugs must bow. And so I pray in the name of that name, Jesus the Christ, that the demon Behind meth would bow and be scattered from niches Life in the name of Jesus the Christ. And then, Lord, I pray for our beloved sister Diana from Florida. Oh God, As Ezekiel said, you know You know that the dry bones in Diana's marriage Can live again. I ask Father, that you would speak to the father wound in her husband's soul. That man is obviously wounded because of the fact that he cannot seem to reach across the Isle of his emotions to his wife. Father, will you Bring restoration to that man's mind. Will you cause him to lean in to you?And get the healing that he needs, and perhaps through counseling, do it for your glory. In Jesus name. Amen.

Hello DABC, This is Aaron from Houston calling in for prayer requests. We have kind of a situation going on in my church Between a couple of people. Umm.Somebody who Tends to burn bridges sooner than they need to be, honestly. But.There's just general communication problems. General misunderstandings, general lack of trust. Just a lot of kind of social issues. But Something that I'm trying to help navigate in And now it's kind of it's reaching ahead, but I can tell that things are slowly getting better between the two individuals that that involved in this. And it's just taking It's taking a while and they requires a lot of discernment, not just on my part but on others. So just pray over the whole situation. Like I won't give any names, just be praying that reconciliation can happen. That there Will there be a peace over The church groups over the leadership, over everybody involved and that ultimately, whatever sin, if any sense needs to be confessed that it happened. If any misunderstandings need to be voiced, that they be voiced and dealt with. Ultimately, that whatever whoever needs to find help gets the help they need. Not just so that there's one incident can be handled, but that it can be avoided in the future and that they can truly build meaningful relationships. Again, there tends to be Difficulty with that for for particular people in this situation, but I'll be praying over that and be praying over me so that I kind of know.How much involvement I need to have and how much I can rely on others as well, so be praying for that thank.

Good morning, DABC. This is Sonya calling from Suffolk. I wanted to lift up Jennifer that she has now moved to Wyoming. Thank you, Lord God, for that safe travel. I want to lift up her sister. She's having bowel resection surgery on October 13th. Heavenly Father, I lift up this young lady to you. Lord God, lift up your child.Do you follow that the surgery that she's gonna have on October the 13th, father would be a safe surgery. I pray Lord that you meet her there on that day. Lord God be with her throughout the surgery. Lord God touch the surgeon hands that will be performing this surgery on her father and I speak a speedy recovery right there in your son.Jesus name as always to have. See I love you guys. Continue to be encouraged and know that God can do all things but fail. I thank God for my dad see family. I also want to lift up China and prayer along with her her bundle of joy. Father asked Lord God that you just meet her there on that day as well. Lord God that that bundle of joy.Father, we're coming to this earth, the Lord God in your time. And I'm just trusting believing father, that she will have a safe delivery, Father, and she will have a speedy recovery as well. I'm buying postpartum depression right there in the mighty name of Jesus. Father, I speak divine happiness. Lord God I speak to.Vine Joe a lot. Lord God and Lord God just have your way. Lord, we just believe in trusting right now. In the mighty name of Jesus. Amen. Death. See you guys. Have a wonderful and blessed weekend.

[dzpenumbra]

8/2/23

Welp, I weathered the storm. And I had a good day today. :)

I had the whole "wake up after 3 hours of sleep" thing happen again. Still don't know what that's about. I think it was dry eyes and dehydration this time, I don't know. I got up, got a snack and decided to dust off Factorio for the first time in a long time. Mini Motorways inspired me, I actually feel like Factorio is much less stressful now.

See... as with a lot of things in life... I suffer from attachment. Though I have been releasing attachments for a tremendous amount of time, and I'm much more adept at letting go and being okay with loss in healthy ways than most I've ever met... I still struggle with it in a lot of places. Namely... some of my art techniques, and in social anticipation stuff.

When I was playing Mini Motorways, I realized at one point that I was just... stubbornly sticking to the roadways I established in the beginning, and just... making it work. And it was just fucking everything up. I would just find ways of tweaking and elaborating, but the bones would just stay the same and when the bones were no longer efficient, it just all collapsed. But I hit this point where... when I'd get hit with a big change like one of those circle buildings or a new residential cluster popping up that I'd have to manage... I'd start to just rework everything... as if from scratch. And if the stuff I put in in the beginning was still effective, it would stay. If it wasn't, it was immediately pulled and that stuff was treated as if it just popped up. And this just completely revolutionized how I played. By just... not getting so stubbornly attached to how things were, to my familiarity with the system... I ended up making new systems that managed the ever-changing ecosystem better. And everything ended up working better.

So... I brought that mentality over to Factorio. Which... obviously has a lot more moving parts to it. But I have a feeling that... I mean... No one likes losing something they worked really hard on, but... there is no loss in rebuilding things in Factorio. You reclaim 100% of the materials. There's no penalty for it other than time and production. It's really not a big deal. So constantly reassessing, tweaking and optimizing really should be something I add in.

Doing this mandala piece has been shockingly liberating. I... I'm going to tentatively say I "finished" it today. I finished the detail work. I want to go back in and do highlights, and it still needs its nose and tail, but the bulk of it is done. It looks fucking sick. I'm very proud of it.

I... broke out the compass again with it today. The circles within the biggest gold petals were just too big, freehanding them was just stressful. So I used my compass as a general guide, added some reference marks and made the circles from there. So, just disclosing that because... you know... it's relevant to what I'm going to say. This piece evolved into a test of me being able to work in a "permanent" medium... on something valuable... and to make "mistakes"... and be okay with that. To embrace the "mistakes".

My way of looking at it is... when a plant is growing, no leaves are exactly alike. So what I did was make the "mistakes" just... relative to the petal they were on. If the leaf was lopsided... warp the rest of the detail within it to match. That kinda thing. So it really did look like each leaf, each petal, was genetically coded to have a pattern... and my "mistakes" were the individual growth mutations that distinguished... individuality. Identity.

So yeah, the whole... practicing letting go of things... practicing making "mistakes" and seeing the lessons and value in them... and the whole "jazz" approach to artwork... it's been very helpful for me. I completely freehanded the last 4 circles and rushed my ass out to the skatepark.

Before I skip to that, man... I was just in the fuckin zone today. I got my groceries, gave my building manager my lease renewal form and she was super nice, despite me being really out of it. I worked on the grip tape and listened to Heilung in my earbuds for like 3 hours straight. It was surreal, I'm really falling in love with them. What was super surreal was doing yoga while listening to them. I felt like I had just teleported back a few hundred years... minus the AirPods...

Then I went skating. I took the neighborhood route and I definitely preferred it. I got to see lots of people out walking their dogs, which I like a lot. I miss dog-time so much. :( But I got to cruise and that electric board is so fucking fun to cruise on. I really want to get up early one of these days and just go cruise the whole city, like go for a big trip out on the town. I'm a bit scared of the battery dying and having to walk back... but that thing can go like 17 miles so... I think I'm gonna have to work up to doing something that ambitious, given the furthest I've ridden this in one go was probably... 2.5 miles? Hell, maybe I could take a trip up to Michael's, it's not THAT far... is it? Okay, Google Maps is saying it's 2.2 miles each way, and that takes me through a college campus and a hotel parking lot. Michael's is a tricky one because it's right by the Interstate, so it's tough to get to. I'll come back to that idea.

Anyway, I went skating and I had a great time. There were 4 guys there practicing nollieflips and filming each other. They looked a bit older than college age. I was very full of energy and all-smiles, trying to sorta... overtly react to things they were laughing at as a group. But they barely acknowledged my presence. So I just put the earbuds back in and skated, they left shortly after. I had fun. I worked on getting my nosemanual foot position in a better spot. I can never really figure out where to put it. If I have my toe hanging off the board, it makes shove out a lot more unpredictable. If I'm too far on my toe I can't steer toe-edge for shit. So... I've been just kinda trying to find that sweet spot for balance and try different foot positions until I find one that works really well for me.

I worked on BS boardsliding the sloped box today. The one I usually noseslide. Boardslides on boxes and ledges have always been weird for me, I never get "on them" because I'm afraid of my wheels hitting the deck and screeching to a stop instantly, bucking me from my board. But a big chunk of that is a mind game, and my justification for it was... powerslides. This box was made from the same material as the ramps I was using to turn around on, and I powerslid those every time. So I just got myself to intentionally stand on that boardslide like I was sliding on a rail or... like I was on a snowskate. And I actually slid a substantial distance, like 2-3 feet. It didn't just immediately throw me off. My whole strategy with it is... to get myself to get more used to getting on top of my slides. I keep poking the board out and sliding on it, but it's like I'm reaching in a fire with a stick to rotate the logs or something. I'm really far out and super hesitant, and I can feel that the combination of me hesitating, not putting my weight on it, and not getting on top of it, and my lack of speed are really the big factors in why I can't hold my noseslides. It's really weird, I did a noseslide the last session and I could distinctly feel myself much more above it. But it felt so slow that I bailed. It felt sticky. And I know how taboo it is to wax shit at a skatepark, I wasn't about to do that, even on the rusty shit.

So yeah, that was my session. I worked mostly on nosemanual, nosemanual - shove it, and boardslide on the box. I was out for about 40 minutes, I guess? The mosquitos got pretty bad towards the end. The ride back was nice.

And the coup de grace for the day? I got some Brillo pads with my groceries, along with some cheap replacement heads for my new electric toothbrush. My goal was to find a better solution for these blue beads. And good lord did I succeed.

The toothbrush thing ended up basically being a bust. I might take one of the heads and strip the bristles off and glue a piece of sandpaper to it or something, but I'm not sure it's really necessary. The Brillo just kicked fucking ass. Like... standing ovation, good lord. I take the bead, I pop it on the end of my old paintbrush, I dip it in water, I super gently work it on the Brillo pad for like... a minute? Making sure I go really light, but keep working until I don't feel resistance. Then I wash and wipe all the excess ink off, then work the whole bead with a piece of a brown paper bag. I'm getting a better finish on these beads, in a fraction of the time. Definitely adding this to my process, god damn. This is making the big strings of natural wood and yellow-green dyed beads look much less intimidating. So... bummer on the toothbrush idea, I liked the idea of a rotary tool that makes an apartment-friendly amount of noise... But not only do I not mind sanding by hand... I actually prefer it. It's insanely meditative, and I would like to think it would increase the value of my work.

I really need to just make ASMR videos of me polishing these beads. I just... okay, confession. Not just with the beads, but with the grip tape. I didn't film or stream these because... I can't fucking sit still when I work. Especially with the grip tape. I was constantly moving the board and going from lying to sitting to kneeling to squatting to leaning over the board. I'm all over the place. Same with the beads, but to a lesser degree. It's just how I work. So... filming is messy. Because I'm supposed to keep shit in the shot and not block the camera. So... yeah. That's a big reason why I haven't done that.

Anyway, yeah, that's basically it, I guess... OH. I got BIG inspiration this morning. At like 8AM when I woke up. I guess if there's any good side to waking up after 3 hours of sleep, it's getting super detailed and vivid inspiration. Let me share my vision.

My idea is a piece with a base made of cardboard. I have been thinking this over and I might just double the cardboard to make sure it doesn't warp, cardboard likes to warp when you put shit on it. The cardboard would be cut into huge block letters (I mean like... as big as I can get them, ideally like... really big boxes found in the recycling room so... like... at least 3 feet per letter?) that says "MORE". And superimposed on each letter, probably Mod Podged on, are plastic labels and bags and shit that are cut into block letters to say "FASTER" and "CHEAPER". Over and over and over, layer and layered and layered. All made from my recycling, anything mass produced. It will take a tremendous amount of time. But I really like the concept.

The concept was really playing off of this whole... the whole fucking Western world is obsessed with more right now. It's getting to absurd levels now. And MORE is... addiction. And faster and cheaper feed that. Honestly, the first time I made that connection was listening to a poet that was featured on a Sage Francis album... fuck, what was his name... Buddy something. I'm gonna see if I can find the exact quote. Buddy Wakefield, an excerpt from Human the Death Dance:

Dillon’s drug of choice was more So he took more And more Until the day he woke up Babbling in a pool of his own traffic jam Realizing he is killing off the best parts of himself And claiming he could read people's skin When he looked down at his heart flap It read Boy, "go find your spine and ride it outta here"

And though Buddy's imagery speaks to so much more than the tiny snippet that stuck with me... it made a difference. Most people I've met are addicted to more. To the point where they snub their noses at things that just years ago would have been considered luxuries. Really, the most important things driving the world economy right now are More, Faster, Cheaper. And I started to equate those to... the Seven Deadly Sins. More = Gluttony. Faster = Lust. Cheaper = Greed. And it's just... fucking everywhere. No wonder we have such ravaging addiction problems tearing our culture apart. We are indoctrinating generations with a bottomless compulsion, a hunger for the the next thing, the next funny gif, the next trending TikTok, the next post, the next, the next, more, more, more. And we need it faster faster faster. Weekly releases. Daily releases. Multiple daily releases. Shorter multiple daily releases and more of them. Quality tanks, substance tanks, but the flow rate on that feeding tube is fucking peaking right now. It's just... if people can't see how many problems this causes? How it will literally destroy the global ecosystem if we can't just fucking TRY to dial it back a bit?

Look. I get it. I do. But like. Please think of it this way. Is it ever worth it? Is it ever worth it? If these things we need to consume and hoard and chase are so good... if they're so worth chasing... then why are we still searching after we've found them? Why do we rarely remember them?

My work has really been dedicated to giving my pieces all of my attention and time. I could easily outsource, or take shortcuts, use power tools, buy premade components. In some cases, I do... like the stone beads. But I do everything I can to preserve the aspect of my bare hands touching the final product for extended periods of time. It's the core of my work. Because that is what makes it important. That is what makes it special. That is what makes it one-of-a-kind.

So yeah, maybe that was the last final steaming shit my PTSD had to dump out about this whole "cheapening my work" thing. The whole "I love your style, you should design coasters for my bar, here's my idea that's in a style that you've never done before, showing I've very clearly not looked at your art ever." It hurts, man. And I guess this was like... my creative purge of that. To put that concept of like... how fucking hungry and impatient and greedy people are. And how normalized it's become. Or hell, maybe it's always been and I've just had my head in the sand, I don't know. I just... it's really nauseating.

There's no harm in going out and sitting in a chair and watching a sunset, folks. Try it sometime. And if you can find and reconnect with that part of you deep inside that truly appreciates that sunset, and that silence and stillness... that doesn't just sitting there faking it, but actually is in awe of the splendor of nature, and finds this... almost supernatural, movie-like feeling in the calm. Then you've found something that can actually start to scratch that itch. The itch More claims to scratch, but never really seems to.

Getting off my soapbox now. Glad for a good day. Hoping tomorrow will be another one.

[othernaut]

Just throw me out with the trash.

“Orange rinds,” said Burney, up to the arms in filth. Someone in the thick cavern darkness, Les or Maxim maybe, went, “Really?” He nodded, his thick chin pressing into a warm half-moon at the height of his chest, a gesture for no one in particular. We all had our own shit to sift through.

“Yeah,” he said, quietly, and then once the thunder of his voice had returned, “Yeah. Just something about them, you know? They feel like something trying really hard to be skin.” A beat, a slow-rolling sift of trash and bones from Burney’s place midway up the midden. “Not that I don’t like oranges. Love ‘em. I’d have a Terry’s Chocolate on my desk every Christmas. It’s just the packaging, you know? The presentation.”

“Would love an orange rind right now,” said a voice in the darkness. Definitely Maxim; I could hear his wistful lisp at the end of the sentence, the tonal signifier of his ascent into imagination. ”I’d slice it very thin and boil it with the sweetest thing I’ve got. Or just as a tea, drinking the juice. Just for the memory of it.”

“What the fuck, Max?” echoed a voice from the far end of the cavern. Apex, further away than we thought they’d gotten, so distant that their usual thoughtless shouting dimmed to an echoing average. “You could daydream about anything. You had a chocolate orange right there. Boiling orange rinds?”

“Eyes on the prize, boys and girls,” said Burney, some ancient managerial impulse stirred to life by the barest threat of social decohesion. “Let’s keep the game going. Les, you’re up next. Name a question and a trigger.”

I could hear Les rifling through a drift of cloth, somewhere above and to my right. There was a plastic click, and then the lime green reading light Les used as an ersatz miner’s lamp clicked on, illuminating the bottom half of her pale, round face. Off again, something clinking into the bottom of a bag. You navigated by feel, in the piles, but sometimes you had to check. Lights weren’t, couldn’t be a constant thing down here. You had to be circumspect.

“Okay. Okay. The question is this. What’s been your greatest failure? And the trigger is the first two people who find something that would be worth more than fifty dollars on the surface,” she said. It was quiet, but the enormous chamber made all sound both sourceless and intimate. I could hear the grinding, gastrointestinal slosh of Maxim’s hungry stomach. Far and away, I could hear Apex breathing hard, no longer muffling their exertion into the tattered black T-shirt they wore like an oversized ascot.

We had to do these things, this obscene crossbreed between work song and online quiz, or then we’d be alone with each other, in the dark, nothing to think of but the foul work we were doing and how we came to be here.

It went quiet. I rooted through my own slice of detritus, letting the question circle in the back of my brain. This kind of scavenge-work was wholly sensory. You felt, you smelled. You ran your fingers around the edges of metal cylinders and over the faces of plastic squares. You felt along long, thin spans of dry and flakey material, testing with taps of your fingers, feeling for the knobbly ends of bone. Sticks were useless. Bone meant, maybe, a whole skeleton, and they might have something good in their pockets.

We all had our methods. I wore a rubber gardening glove over my right hand, nothing on my left. Burney was safety-focused, wore a pair of jaundice-yellow oven mitts over cheap, dollar store skeleton gloves, valuing his nine remaining fingers over touch accuracy. When Apex first started with us, they’d used a rake, noisily dragging the trash out onto a flat section of cave floor and then going over it quickly with a light; that had lasted until the tines caught in the grill of an ancient, leaky riding mower. Unsalvageable but for the blades.

Bit by bit, in frantic half-seconds each, lights bloomed in the darkness. Burney, working by candlelight carefully screwed into the shelf edge of a firetruck-red plastic coffin, pulled out bits and pieces with his yellow oven-mitt crab hands, holding them to the light for inspection. Maxim, working with a square, grey LED flashlight lashed to his head with a bandana, clicked it on for long sweeps over vast drifts of trash, his whisper-thin body a photo negative silhouette. You heard more of Apex than you saw of them, but they had the Maglite; when they needed it, huge blares of luminescence shone like a foghorn made visible over piled grit, sludge and bodies. No sense of smell, you see, so they had no trouble working with the newer dead.

A rustling below me. A careful series of grunts. The square window of an LED headlight blossomed, remained on. It illuminated an unquestionably nice overcoat. Blue wool, oversized, definitely floor length. No belt, but still with a full line of bright buttons down the front. Maxim stuck his arm through the collar, hung it on his forearm like an ersatz clothes hanger. It had suffered for its time in the midden, but it had no visible rips or tears. Everything else would wash out.

“Shit,” Maxim said, “I think I’m number one.”

“You’re up, kid,” said Burney. We all stopped, or at least slowed our scavenging to listen. Maxim worked his arm through the sleeve, hung the heavy greatcoat over his thin shoulders. The empty left arm kept its shape, filling out his asymmetrical silhouette. It couldn’t possibly get dirtier as he worked, after all.

“I almost killed my sister,” he said.

“Aw,” said Les, “That’s sweet.”

“No, that’s not... This isn’t coming through very well. I almost killed my sister. I didn’t fully kill her. That’s the mistake,” he said.

The work, perfunctory as it was, slowed to a stop as Maxim spoke. Even enlarged as he was by the coat, it was hard to imagine Maxim intentionally doing harm to anyone. He just had that affect to him, a dreamer’s quality. He was like the ghost of a priest, drifting through caverns as if they were confessionals, wanting to understand people, wanting to forgive people. With this assertion, he had made a stage for himself.

“I had one sister, younger than me by three years. My parents, they had to work very hard for us, to make it look like everything was okay. They didn’t want any of us to be thrown away, not at first, so not long after my sister was born, both of them had to go back to work. They tried to work it out so that one of them would be home all of the time, but there were always a few hours each day when it was just me and her. They tried to teach me everything I would need to take care of her, but I was very young. Four, maybe, or five. Young enough to be very stupid, to not have older experiences, to be able to translate them into new ideas.”

“Compared to everyone else, our pool was very small, but I loved it. I would have lived in it if I could. And one day my parents were out, and I wanted to show my sister this thing that I loved. I watched my father splashing her up and down in the pool and thought that I could do the same thing. The idea that I was smaller and weaker than my father did not occur. I was made from him, so I could do anything he could do. Of course, i dropped her a few times. She floated once or twice, but sank, too. And I didn’t notice. I was just so happy to be in the water, sharing the thing I loved with someone I was responsible for. Like feeding your dog chocolate. I just wanted her to feel the joy I felt.”

“She was lucky that my mother came home when she did, and that her work’s hospital subscription was very good. The oxygen deprivation hadn’t been debilitating. She would still be able to walk and talk. But after that, everything my parents had went to her. They were so afraid of losing her that they gave everything to keep her. And as she grew older, she knew this, too. All she had to do was stay away from home for half a day and they would do anything to bring her back. I don’t think they resented me for almost killing her. After a while, life got so hectic that I don’t think they even remembered. ”

“I don’t resent my sister. She was just trying to live as best she knew how. I don’t resent my parents, either, but I was always the person that they knew they could rely on, and she was always the person that they knew they could lose. There were big consequences and little ones. When the credit report came in, when one of us had to be thrown away, there was no question who it would be. But even before that, they knew that I would forgive them for missing my birthday, where they knew that she would not. Her crying was an emergency, while mine was an inconvenience.”

“I wonder, sometimes, how things would have been if I had fully killed her. Maybe, instead of relying on me, my parents would have hated me. Maybe they would have forgiven me, or just the same as it happened in truth, forgotten. But, at least, the credit report - the one that said that the world could only afford to bear one of my parents’ children - that wouldn’t have changed anything. I wouldn’t be down here. I wouldn’t have accepted it. I wouldn’t have thought it was okay to forget me, because then, I wouldn’t have been used to being forgotten.”

The silence had a different texture when Maxim stopped speaking. There was a downward drift of garbage, up and to my right. I saw a heavy body sliding through the glare of Burney’s candle. Les came into Maxim’s headlight like a burgundy rhino, both arms wrapping around the thin man, enfolding him. “I’m so sorry, you’re okay,” she said, but he doesn’t move. Just stands there, still, waiting for it to be over.

I looked up, past the tip of the cold, clogged heap of human refuse that I must, again, soon, begin digging through. Up to where the cover has been pulled over the cave mouth, blocking even the memory of starlight, leaving us down in the dark. I didn’t want to filter Maxim’s experience through my own, but I couldn’t help it. Old memories drifted outside the cave cover, locked away, never to be seen again.

I didn’t want to believe they were right, up there. That we deserved to be forgotten. But what else is there? What else, after all, is the purpose of an oubliette?

[purecantarella]

My Ball of Sunshine

my tags and posts are still blocked, but i hope that the people who see this still enjoy❣️also, BELATED TZUYU DAY! also, i live for clichés so leave me be HAHAHAHA highschool AU : nerdy!chou tzuyu x athletic!reader disclaimer : some hate speech and curses, just be wary and don't do this to other people.

Since you were a freshman, you were the school's golden student. Perfect grades, linebacker for the school team even a candidate for captain, running for team captain, healthy social life, and it helped that you were easy on the eyes for both men and women. Everyone wanted to either be you or be with you. There was no in between.

You were the sunshine of the entire school.

So it came to the surprise Chou Tzuyu, the resident quiet average student, when she caught your eye.

The both of you had gone to the same school since you were in elementary school. You'd always briefly passed one another while never actually acknowledging each other's existence. But even so, both your eyes were on each other when neither of your attention was on the other.

It had been one of those serendipitous moments. The rain had started coming down hard, cancelling your team's practice, when you'd formally met Tzuyu for the first time. You were driving home when you saw her fallen over, picking up her soaked textbooks, scratched up knee, dirtied uniform, and wiped away the tears that had had melded in with the rain the chilled her to the bone.

You pulled over hastily and got out the car to help your peer. You covered your head with your hand, squatting down to help her collect herself. Her eyes went wide seeing you of all people. You looked up at her surprised face, a laugh bubbling up through your chest as you picked up her books.

"Come on, let's get you out of the rain, yeah?" You offered, beckoning her to the car.

Once inside, safe from the rain. You reached into the back to grab one of the many hoodies that you had stashed there in case of emergencies. Carefully, you placed the jacked around her, brushing the wet hair from her face. A blush coated her usually pale features as you fussed over her.

When you were sure that she was at least relatively dry, you offered her your usual bright grin. Tzuyu's heart jumping at the sight of your warm smile. As for you, upon seeing her curious brown eyes, pink lips, and her soft and adorable aura, butterflies erupted in your stomach. You bit the inner layer of your cheek gently before saying, "Uh, hey, I'm Y/F/N."

A her lips quirked up into a fleeting but blush-educing smile. She shook her head. "Yeah, I know who you are." Tzuyu leaned back shyly, in attempts to hide the blossoming color that had begun to stain her cheeks. "I'm Chou Tzuyu."

From then on, it wasn't like you could ignore her any longer. The Taiwanese girl was in every one of your classes and even on some occasions you caught her eyeing you during lunch when before her friends giggled at her broken demeanour.

Not long after that, you gave into your desire and began courting her in secret. It was often that Tzuyu would find notes in her locker talking about how amazing she was or how you were happy to be there for her if ever you were needed. Of course the apex came when you were both partnered together for a project.

Like what was previously mentioned, it'd felt like serendipity.

"Chou!" You called, running down the busy school hall. The tall girl had looked back to you, the flutters in her stomach appearing at the sight of your familiar smile. "How about I drive you home again today? So we can work on the project today." You offered, the sparkle in your eye mirroring that of a pup seeing their favorite chew toy.

She tilted her head to the side curiously. "Don't you have practice today?" Tzuyu asked softly

Again, you chuckled softly. The aura around you remaining the warm and welcoming one that brought the other girl so much comfort. "As important as football is to me, I want to give time to other things that are valuable to me." Your teeth snagged your lower lip softly. Thinking for a moment. "That is, of course, if you'd want me to."

Tzuyu controlled the urge to coo at your adorable blushing face, the way your head tilted down in a way it never did usually. You were confident and it took a lot to faze you. So seeing the way you played with your fingers, shifted from side to side, the warmth from your aura had seeped so far into her chest. She could only nod, making your eyes light up like stars.

"Great! Here let me..." You trailed off, taking her books in your hand before leading her to your car in the lot. Catching the eye of almost all the by standing students. You walking some random girl out, holding her books, and most especially, driving away with her was a huge deal.

In a matter of hours, people were texting both of you non-stop, which did trouble Tzuyu a little but she couldn't dwell too much on that with you being a mere table away. Your eyes were dedicatedly trained on the laptop in front of you. Typing away, researching everything you needed for the project. A smile graced her lips, you really were the golden student everyone praised. As you craned your neck, seeking some relief from the tension, your eyes landed on the tall girl startled and her gaze shooting back down to the references before her.

You made an attempt to conceal your smile as you stood up to sit beside her. Wordlessly continuing your work. After a while, both of you gradually scooted each of your seats closer to the other until both your hands were flushed against one another. Tentatively, you moved your hand slowly to intertwine your fingers with hers.

Tzuyu honestly had no complaints, she sat there, reading the same page over and over again. Her focus long gone from the books in front of her. Then again, the soft tapping from your side had ceased a little bit ago as well.

The two of you just sat there, feeling the warmth of each other's hands. Letting the memory mark in your minds. Not long after that your mom had called, prompting you to come home. Tzuyu didn't hesitate to walk you to your car.

"I'll see you tomorrow then?" You asked, opening the car door slightly, your bag lazily slung over your shoulder. She nodded, a wide smile gracing her lips. You mirrored the smile and fully swung the door open. She stood there, silently waiting for you to say something more while you hesitantly entered the vehicle. The tall girl disappointedly and slowly made her way to their house door.

Your vision lingered on your classmate before you thought, 'fuck it.' Your fingers thumped the wheel briefly before you rolled down your window. "Hey Tzuyu?" You called as she whipped back to face you hastily. You bit back the smile that had wanted to erupt onto your lips. "Would you, uh, maybe be okay for me to pick you up before school tomorrow? We get some coffee and get to know each other?" You asked, your head sticking out the window.

The smile on her face returned, eyes turning to crescents before she nodded enthusiastically. "I would love to, Y/n." Your blood rushed at the sound of her voice saying your name. You bit your lower lip before nodding and driving away, leaving the tall girl to place a hand on her forehead. Her cheeks hurting from the growing smile on her face. Meanwhile you your gaze flicked from her form in the rear view to the street, your lip caught under your teeth.

"Oh sweet Lord." You whispered to yourself, running a hand through your hair.

The next morning you stood there nervously tapping at your bag quietly. The cold morning air blew against you and made you shudder despite the thick varsity jacket that you had draped over your shoulders. You were spacing out, listing out the potential things that could go wrong.

A door quickly opening and closing snapped you out of your daze. You looked up and saw the Taiwanese beauty in all her glory. You could tell that there was a little more effort in the light make-up she usually had on but you didn't mind. You pushed yourself off of your car to help her once again with her books.

"Good morning, miss Chou!" You greeted her with a small yet still gleaming smile. She responded with a soft, "Hello." To which the grin on your face grew into a toothy one. You moved to open the car door for her before placing her belongings carefully in the back.

She quirked a curious brow upon seeing your clean backseat. "No piles of hoodies this time?" You laughed softly eyeing the now free space. "That day was an exception. Had I known I would pick you up that day, it would have been clean." You said making her giggle softly.

"Sure," She said rolling her eyes and leaning into the seat.

You looked at her ensemble. It was the school's standard uniform but you noted that she had no way to cover herself from the draft that circled the South Korean air. You slipped off the jacket that you wore and offered it to her. Her brown eyes went wide as she stared at it.

"It's not a big deal, I promise. It's just that it's extra chilly today and I don't want you to get cold." You explained quickly, hand still out waiting for her to take the school jacket. Tzuyu took it quietly before pulling it around herself, savouring your earthy scent that lingered on the fabric.

"Let's go?" You asked before starting the car and pulling out of the driveway.

After you'd gotten some coffee, you'd realized there was little to no time for you two to sit and chat. So you decided to get to school and hang out during lunch. You pulled up and helped her out of the car. Both of you could feel eyes on you both the moment you walked out. Not only did you both exit the same car together, but she was clad in the jacket with your last name embroidered on the back.

She shied away from the glances of the other students. Seeing her unease, you took her free hand in yours. "You're fine...Okay? I've got you." You assured her quietly before she offered you a shy smile.

Once her books were in hand you both made your way into the school, hands still tightly intertwined together. Her locker was already swarmed with jealous girls and cocky looking jocks that you didn't particularly like too much off of the field.

"Y/n!" One of the jocks called, a dumb smile on his face as he eyed Tzuyu. You maintained your composure and gave him a warm smile. "Hey, what's up?" You greeted meekly in attempts to keep the interaction short.

"Just didn't know you were with Chou Tzuyu." He paused to whisper in your ear. "Fine piece of ass don't you think." Your jaw immediately clenched at his crude words. You felt the shorter girl beside you flinch only doubling your anger yet your expression still stayed the bright and cheery one.

There was no need to get involved with any drama.

"We aren't together, man. I invited her to coffee 'cause I wanted to get to know her better." You tightened your smile. "No fuss in that right?" Tzuyu looked up at you, seeking some form of safety from the jocks and mean girls who surrounded her locker. You glanced down at her, trying to bring her some comfort.

"You could do better if you'd ask me, Y/n..." A snarky girl said, checking her nails. With her words, Tzuyu shrunk under everyone's gaze. Even yours. That's when your gaze shot to the girl who'd spoken. The aura around you immediately changed. The hallway went quiet as they saw your expression darken. Once warm and welcoming eyes turned hard and bore holes into the shocked girl's.

You pondered for a moment, releasing Tzuyu's hand briefly to shove your hand in your pocket. Your stance adjusting so you towered over all of the student's. "But I didn't ask you did I?" You sneered at her.

"What I do or who I hang out with is none of your business. In all honesty, I don't even know any of you all that well." You looked around. "But you have no right to speak to anyone, much more her, that way and if you think that I'll take all of this lying down, you've got another thing coming. You've got me coming for you." You said lowly but it resonated in their ears.

"Do I make myself clear?" You asked, your expression cold and unnerving.

Everyone nodded and dispersed at the loud ring of the bell. Once everyone had left, your shoulders fell as well as a held breath released. You turned back to a stunned Tzuyu. Your expression softened as you saw her still petrified.

"I'm sorry about them...and about that whole scene." You said softly, almost remorsefully. The silence hung over you both. While she was surprised you had that side to you, she couldn't help but feel giddy that it was because of her that that side came out at all.

Tzuyu offered you a small smile before leaning up to peck your cheek quickly. "Thank you for trying to defend me." A heat rushed up to your cheeks before you cleared your throat awkwardly. "Uh, can I walk you to class?"

She wordlessly took your hand and leaned into your touch. Your ears pricked up at the action and you both made your way to her first class.

'This is going to be different than I thought...' She thought to herself as she looked up at the little ball of sunshine that was you.

okay this was kinda messy but bare with me HAHAHAHAHA in any case though, i hope you all enjoyed this! again, this wasn't my best but after every revision this went though this was one of the best. i'm working through some stuff HAHAAHH anyway, requests are open and criticism and opinions on my work are completely accepted. i think some of my functions are working as early as when i post this but my tags i believe are still broken. uh anyway, keep safe everyone and i will see all of you very soon 💖 taglist: @labrachrosite

[aquilaofarkham]

title: the little death rating: T+ word count: 2,409 summary: Two years after his fight with Death, Trevor’s injuries start catching up to him while Alucard realizes that humans are more fragile than he thought. 

For @trevorsmellmont ❤️  Thank you so much for commissioning me!

READ HERE

There’s a sharp pain pooling beneath his right arm, coursing through his ribcage. Trevor ignores it just as he’s ignored all the other aches, jabs, and stings over the past two years. Two years of building something better, something sustainable to last far longer than its young, admittedly green founders. Countless days, weeks, and months erecting homes, gardens, and pens for those dumb gentle animals who think the entire townscape is their personal pasture. Not another mistake of allowing them to wander aimlessly straight into the castle. As if heifers need to learn how to craft medicine or conduct what’s being referred to as “electricity”.

The work will never be finished. Even on days like this when the sun burns hotter than any circle in hell. A few drops of warm salt-ridden sweat crawl past Trevor’s pressed lips and into his dry mouth. Pain and thick heat were never enough to stop him before—he tells himself this, barely certain of his own supportive thoughts (a new concept taking root in his mind). Take it slow, don’t push yourself, idiot. This cabin made from the earth will get built eventually. Another family will receive their forever home to fill with lots of babies. Old wounds beg to differ as Trevor’s arms begin to weaken, each movement slower than the last, struggling to keep up with Greta’s superior pace. She’s always known her way around a mallet.

Another bead of sweat gets caught in Trevor’s lashes, sparing his eyes from temporary discomfort. Though it wouldn’t have mattered as they’re already past any sort of respite. He looks for distraction but can only see the blurred shapes coming from a huddle of bodies, despite being a short distance from them. He knows it’s only Sypha and Alucard with the village children, which gives Trevor some relief.

There’s more comfort to be felt when he remembers that one of those little monsters is his own, nestled in Sypha’s lap then placed in Alucard’s gentle arms. She has a name far too long for any toddler to pronounce—Elizabeta Belnades Tepes Belmont—so what rolls off her developing tongue instead is simply “Liza”. She’s innocent now but once she leaves this little man-made paradise and ventures into a harsher world, she will take more after her mother and father. Grabbing whatever life offers with both fists, clawing and biting her way through every obstacle until her teeth are reddened with bloody meat. For the time being, they relish Liza’s soft cheeks, wispy hair, and the way she throws herself at whichever adult happens to be in her nearest vicinity. The other children are helping her socialize by playing games and embracing frivolity; a tactic Trevor remembers from his own upbringing, though with less games and even less frivolity. 

“Think you can handle one or two more?”

Greta’s voice manages to cut through Trevor’s mental fog. Funny how she asks if he can “think” about anything especially at this suffocating moment. She must have noticed the way his lips curl into a happy doped up grin while observing his family and couldn’t help but inquire. As any close, loved and valued friend would.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“What’s wrong with looking a bit further into the future? Now that we all have one.” 

“Looking is one thing, but seriously suggesting is something else completely. My… performance in certain areas isn’t as up to snuff as it used to be.”

As Trevor says this, things deteriorate and get a bit fuzzier from his eyesight down to his chest. Out of focus. Painful. He keeps talking, keeps ignoring the inevitable. Always ignoring what his own body screams for.

Greta wrinkles her nose at his statement. “There are children present, Belmont.”

“What? I’m referring to the house. I barely managed to get one wall up while you’re already on the fucking roof.”

“So dramatic. You three really do deserve each other. And you’re still young.”

“On the outside, maybe.”

She laughs at his lie, misinterpreting it as another piece of mild self-deprecatory banter he might never be able to live without. Greta says something else, perhaps her own personal jest to counter his, but Trevor cannot hear. Breath grows heavier, forcing out a raspy “it’s fine. It’s just my chest”. Barely able to tell if Greta actually said anything about his sudden condition. Or rather, not so sudden. No, this has been building over quite some time now. His muscles and bones screaming, begging for relief or death, and end to everything—whichever comes first. Feelings that only worsened over the years.

Trevor loses control over his legs, now practically boneless. The collision between his head and the ground is nothing compared to the inner war over his heart. Whether it will finally succumb. Greta immediately calls for help—he thinks without confidence, once again. Trevor can still hear voices, but not their exact words. Not Sypha when she demands to know what happened. Not Alucard when he begs for him to stay conscious. Not even Liza as she cries for her papa.

Then all the chaos in the world fades into slow darkness.

--

Alucard stands outside the closed bedchamber door, contemplating how often he’s touched Trevor’s body. Lithe fingertips have memorized every crevice, scar, soft and rough spots alike. Not just as a lover with wandering hands underneath blankets in the dead of night. Or a friend who holds him steady on both feet when he needs it. But as this family’s self-appointed physician. 

Perhaps the prince of two worlds took after his father after all. “Polymath” is what Alucard used to describe Dracula and the very same word others have referred to him as, mostly in the realm of medicine. He knows more than anyone, little offence given towards the herb dispensers and leech farmers (only to be polite for his own townsfolk). Thus, through the anxieties and trembling hands, Alucard gave Trevor his diagnosis: heat exhaustion along with a muscle somewhere in his chest that decided to go rogue and strain itself.

The son of Tepes, the only local doctor worth trusting, and arguably the co-leader of their little prospering hamlet paces across the hall like Trevor did the day Liza was born. He’s on the other side of that closed door, resting. Bedridden from heat exhaustion and a fucking pulled muscle. It bothers Alucard. This shouldn’t have happened to someone who stood up to the personification of Death and pissed in his eye. A stupidly common and easily treatable inconvenience to the human body shouldn’t be the end of a fucking Belmont.

It shouldn’t—unless Trevor’s scars have anything to say about it. The ones on the inside and outside. Inside, unseen, and untreatable. There’s a harsh revelation to be found there; one which the prince has been purposefully avoiding up to this moment. Alucard can try as he wants, use the tools left behind by his father and mother as though it were their final death wish, but he might never tend to what pains Trevor on the inside. He’s a Belmont, undeniably so, but Belmonts are human despite the many recurring signs pointing to the contrary. Then there’s Sypha with her magic, but she’s human as well. Greta and Liza are still human. Humans are more susceptible to dying easy, little deaths even when they follow world-saving victories.

Where does this leave Alucard? Thoughts spiral down, down towards darker places the longer he nervously hovers outside the bedroom. He’s been known to awkwardly stumble into deflection, insisting he’s only half human whenever certain someones bring up this topic of necessary conversation. Meaning he might as well not be human at all. Not when the bodies of those he loves change so rapidly while his remains petrified. It’s only been two years, filled to the brim with countless hours he wouldn’t ever want to trade for the entire world. But the thought of one night as they nestle themselves into bed and Alucard touches either Trevor or Sypha’s chest only to feel an anomaly within their hearts. The earliest sign that time and age will eventually betray them as it does for all mortals—it could be the one thing to break him.

Alucard stops himself at the opportune moment, right before he starts thinking about his mother and father. Did Dracula ever contemplate Lisa’s mortality? Was the decision to never turn her easy or the hardest thing he forced upon his unstable, immortal conscience? Arms crossed over his chest like a protective cage, fingernails digging into the fabric of his shirt until it hurts, Alucard swallows a bitter glob of spit and reaches for the doorknob. Sypha will have to accept the fact that he couldn’t wait for her. He quietly thanks her for the lessons she taught him. If he needs to talk about something—truly talk, no sarcastic wit or banter, just the raw emotions—Alucard no longer hesitates. He won’t, not as he enters the room and immediately sees Trevor still in bed, not quite altogether there. At least he can manage a decent smile and wave of his hand.

“Evening.”

“How does your chest feel?”

“Still a bit tight, but I’ve been taking deep breaths like the doctor ordered.”

The amount of strain heard in Trevor’s voice worries Alucard. Hopefully the Belmont has learned something from the recent past, so he won’t be stupid and suggest anything having to do with leaving bed or getting back to work.

 “I think I should get up.”

“I think that’s a poor decision.”

“Are you saying that as my physician or because you’re letting that pretty little blonde head of yours get too worked up?”

No. Yes. Both? If only Trevor didn’t look up at him with those glassy eyes (can he still see him?) the colour of stained glass windows erected in cathedrals he felt so unwelcome inside. If only that smile, somehow both soft and shit-eating, wasn’t in place of a more serious expression. Then maybe Alucard could voice his concerns without being accused of acting overbearing—an accusation grounded in solid evidence but he’s not ready to admit that yet. Not out loud.

“Normal, healthy adults do not become bedridden after pulling a small muscle in their chest.”

“Belmonts aren’t normal… or healthy in my case.”

Alucard’s brow furrows. “I want to think you’re healthy—” I need to. “—that you’ll live long enough to see the children of this village have little ones of their own. Liza included.”

“God’s sake, she’s only two years old. You and Greta, always talking about looking one step too far into the future. Let her be a child before adulthood rears its ugly maw.”

“Try not to change the subject.”

Trevor lifts his head off the indent pressed into his sweat drenched pillow. “Alright. Fine. I feel much better. I won’t push myself and give my heart some more time to recover.”

No response coupled with broken eye contact; sure signs of Alucard’s reluctance to accept his rather weak assurance. The Belmont has no other choice.

“Come here. Sit.”

Another moment’s hesitation before Alucard complies. Feeling his weight upon the mattress, Trevor blindly reaches for his wrist until calloused fingers grip cool, unblemished skin.

“Now lie down. No, no. Not like that. Place your head right here.” He pats his chest and with a fleeting amount of guidance, Alucard’s cheek fits perfectly between his breasts. Two hands smooth over the dhampir’s curves before one before one rests on his silk smooth head and the other against the small of his back. Alucard lied about one thing: his own body can change in small yet noticeable ways. Without the need to fight for the lives of others, whether today or tomorrow, sharp edges turn softer. Trevor and Sypha have finally let themselves breathe as well, let go, and enjoy all of life’s pleasures.

“Hear that?” He asks Alucard.

“... It’s slow.”

“Slow and strong like it should be.”

Alucard wishes he could bottle up that heartbeat or place it in a box. Preferably a music box to listen to its soothing melody long after its original body and soul are both eventually gone from this world. Who knows? It might make things hurt a little bit less like when he redrew his parent’s portrait or built a much larger nursery where his own used to be. Not a lot, but Alucard could possibly live with just “a little”.

“Speaking of Greta…” The baritone of Trevor’s voice sends deep vibrations through his broad chest, tickling Alucard’s cheek. “She said something about more children.”

“More orphans joining us?”

“No, even though I know how much you love those damn orphans. She asked if we could handle one or two more.”

“What did you say?”

“I implied that she was taking after Sypha’s influence by being wonderfully insane.”

Alucard chuckles in agreement. That sounds like Greta. “You never know. It might be good for Liza if she has a younger sibling.”

With the sound of Sypha’s well timed arrival, he’s mercifully saved from Trevor’s lengthy speech about how patience is apparently a virtue and tirades about his “performance” or lack thereof. Greta reveals herself shortly afterwards with a still crying Liza in tow. So many bodies gathered around one inebriated individual, here for him and him alone. Trevor’s consoled yet exasperated expression directed at Greta in particular says “isn’t there someone more important you could be helping right now?”

Sypha is the first to voice her gratitude after fussing over her exhausting loved one. “I will never be able to thank you enough, Alucard.”

“I think the bed did most of the heavy lifting, love.”

Trevor is given an affectionate, somewhat caring glare in response but his focus is demanded elsewhere once he suddenly notices Liza jumping onto the bed. She snuggles herself between him and Alucard, wetting their shirts with her tears.

“Easy there, you little monster. Papa’s still a bit tender.” Not that she can understand or care.

There’s an aura of relief felt amongst everyone in the room—less with Alucard who smiles bittersweetly. It’s a truth he knew he had to acknowledge before it tore his heart open. Trevor and Sypha will die one day and he will have to bury them. He’ll bury Greta, he might even bury Liza. Not today thank all the gods, or tomorrow, not for the next few decades if fate is kind enough. 

But the day will come. And it will be Alucard’s own little death.

[tipsydipsydo]

➳ Virgin! AU

➳ Foursome; soft Sex

Pairing: Yoongi x virgin! Reader x Taehyung x Jungkook

Gender of the Reader: female

Word Count: ~1k

Genre: Fluff; Smut

Warnings: Sexual Language + soft Dirty Talk; Polyamory Relationship; virgin! Reader; first experiences; talk about boundaries/consent; Petnames; Praising; Worship; (double) Fingering; everything is really kinda soft~

A/N: After some time I've finally written another drabble again and I hope y'all like it. It's really soft and sweet!

[Links]:

▪BTS Smut Drabbles | My Writings

▪Blog Navigation 

「© tipsydipsydo」

This following story is my intellectual property and belongs only to my blog tipsydipsydo.tumblr.com!

I’ll not accept any kind of reposting, stealing or using/editing my work!

That includes reposting my content on other social media platforms too, even when you link me as the original author.

Thank you.

Small breathy pants and whimpered moans are leaving your swollen lips, everything is so new for you and you don’t really have a clue how to handle all these new feelings which are running through your inexperienced system. You’re biting down onto your lower lip once again, trying to suppress the urge to vocalize your desire and need, no matter if they’re just noises or messily spilled out words. Obscene yet so arousing squelching sounds are filling the room, the combination of all these things let your whole body trembles in sexual ecstasy. 

Both of your legs are bend up to your chest by one of Taehyung’s and Kook’s hand while two fingers of their other hand are buried deep into your tight pussy. Fingering you slowly with four fingers in perfect synchronized harmony open. As if that wouldn’t be already overwhelming enough, Yoongi, who is sitting behind you and supports your shaking body, is flicking mercilessly with his index and middle finger over your swollen clit. 

Flustered and hiccuping you turn your head toward the crook of Yoongi’s neck, hiding your face away from Taehyung’s and Jungkook’s attentive and curious eyes. They are a little too attentive for your own taste. 

Unfortunately your sudden movement let Tae’s and Jungkook’s Hands slowing down, Yoongi’s fingers on your clit pauses as well. All of them are taking their hands away from your private area and letting your legs go down, respecting your privacy. Well, this is something you absolutely didn’t want to happen, which is why a desperate mewl flees out of your mouth that you couldn’t control anymore. 

A deep but loving chuckle rumbles through Yoongi’s chest, wrapping his left arm a little tighter around your torso und pull you closer to his own body. It’s just a sweet little gesture but it gives you a sense of calming support, helps your poor heart to slow the rapid pace of your heartbeat down again. 

As soon as your hitched breath regulated itself again, you turn your head hesitantly back to your two other lovers. Both of them welcome you with a gentle and heartwarming smile, rubbing the big palms of one of their hands soothingly over the sensitive skin of your thighs. 

“Oh Angel, are you sure that everything is fine? Are you uncomfortable with anything we’re doing? Please tell us when something doesn’t feel good for you! We really care with our entire heart for you and we want that you feel good and safe with us.”, questions Jungkook and lift gently your chin, so he is able to look into your eyes. 

You press unconsciously your lips together into a small line and nod, still flustered from the behaviors of your own body and voice. You want to explain what made you so shy and embarrassed out of the sudden, you really want to... but your throat is so dry in this moment, not a single word wants to come out of your mouth. 

“Besides that, don’t be ever ashamed of anything, there’s no reason for any shame about how your body responds to our action or what noises you make.”, says Jungkook softly and lean over to you, cupping one of your cheek and press a sweet but short kiss on your lips. Trying to clarify the meaning behind his words. 

“Moreover... -and I think everyone of us can agree with that- your moans and whimpers are really fucking attractive, I love them so much and they’re driving us crazy, Baby. Not to be too open and blunt but... I think we all are rock hard thanks alone to your delicious noises.”, add Taehyung and flash one of his very well known boxy grins at you. You’re too cute for your own good, Tae couldn’t resist to send you a slightly teasing wink afterwards. 

“U-Uhm... I-I just... I’m not really used to get touched by someone else and to make such noises... usually when I touch m-myself, I don’t really express my feelings with m-moans or something like that...”, you mumble quietly, looking down onto Yoongi’s hand which holds you close. Even though you trust all of them with your whole heart, you just can’t put your shy and overthinking nature completely down. Maybe that’s why you struggle so much to let yourself go, to give all control away and to simply enjoy what’s happening tonight. 

“That’s absolutely okay and completely valid, Sweetheart. We know that everything is a complete new experience for you and that’s why we try to make it as good as possible for you. To make sure you’re not overwhelmed or that we didn’t infringe your boundaries. What do you think, are you comfortable to move on or do you want to stop here?”, asks Yoongi is his deep, raspy voice and draws small circles with his thumb on the skin of your pubic bone. He took his fingers away from your private parts like the other boys did, he wouldn’t touch you there until you didn’t gave them explicitly your consent that you’re comfortable with their actions. 

“Please... please continue with what you did before... I-I really want this here, I’m just a little shy and flustered sometimes. Please... I need it.”, you whimper out in a shaking voice, encourage them with a needy buck of your hips. 

“Okay, Babygirl... you’ll get everything you want. Just communicate a little more with us, yeah? This here is a safe space, you can demand and deny whatever you’re comfortable or not with.”, makes Taehyung with a small smile clear before his middle- and ringfinger join Jungkook’s fingers in your core. 

Soon after they continued with their work to pleasure you, you couldn’t keep your mouth shut even if you wanted to. Now, you couldn’t care less about those stupid and unimportant things. The one and only thought which dominate your clouded mind was the chase of your high. You’d do everything for your lovers to earn this incredible and mind numbing orgasm they build up in your body. 

“Oh Princess, you’re did so well. Let yourself go, we are here to catch you when you’re reaching your high. Come for us.”, rasps Jungkook in his hoarse and arousal drained voice. 

That was all you needed to see Heaven. 

[sneezefiction]

untouchable | vi

Atsumu x Reader

desc: in which an accidental run-in with pro volleyball player, Atsumu Miya, at a 7/11 leads to a strangers-to-lovers situation… but the catch is, you have no idea that he’s famous.

warnings: slight language, anxiety

wc: 6.6k

part 5 ⚬ part 6 ⚬ part 7 

untouchable m.list

—

Recap:

And for the first half of this year you found yourself falling in love. Falling for this second glance of a man.

So finding out that Izumi Kenji had a partner was a punch to the gut. 

Reaching for his hand that summer was a defining moment for you. The way he snatched his hand away from yours would have knocked all the air out of your lungs if you’d had any breath to spare.

—

Laughter echoes off the sides of buildings as you make your way past food stalls and restaurants. It’s warm. A gentle breeze tussles his hair, different strands catching purple and orange light from the store signs.

There are several things that are begging to hold your attention right now. 

A new café to your right is stringing a “Grand Opening” banner across its shop doors. Bike bells ring off in the distance, the wheels gently thrumming against dusty cobblestone. Groups of teenagers snicker as they pass you by, their voices carefree and teasing. Two dogs tread loyally next to their owners on the other side of the street, their claws clicking as their paws hit the pavement. 

But even among all of those distractions and details, all you can see is him. The mop of messy hair atop his head. His umber brown eyes. A curious smile.

Izumi Kenji had stolen your heart slowly and carefully; he did so without a balaclava or a disguise to lure you in. And as you meander the downtown area with him, your fondness for him only grows.

Meeting him at that after-work party may have been the best thing that happened to you this year. You were comfortable - in the middle of a bar, talking to a stranger and laughing with him. And who were you to turn down the one good thing life had sent your way.

Although, with how nonexistent your social life was, you would’ve let almost anyone into your social circle. You just deem yourself lucky that it was Kenji who happened to be in your vicinity.

He’d ended up asking for your number at the end of the night - you rattled off the digits faster than you could blink.

“...if you ever need anything, just send me a text.”

It was an outstretched hand of a sentence. A bone thrown to a starving dog. Finally, there was a person you could rely on.

You took his words to heart.

After that night, it was almost unfair how easily he broke down your barriers. 

It was Kenji who took you sightseeing through all of Osaka in the Winter months, making sure that you’d mapped out the area so that you were more comfortable when you went exploring on your own. Your snow boots and his became well acquainted.

He’d shown you his favorite eateries and shops, rambling quietly about his favorite pastries and old, dusty memories that came from his time spent in the area. 

His jacket made its way to your shoulder when you visibly shuddered from the cold as Winter shifted to Spring. And as Summer approached, you allowed yourself to let your guard down. With distant eyes, you learned about his family and his plans. You wondered if maybe there was a place for you in that future.

Any doubts about this connection you had with him had melted away. 

He was your closest friend by far… and who’s to say he couldn’t be more?

You glance to your left, a small smile working its way onto your lips. Kenji’s eyes wander the street, completely lost in thought. His expression is serene under the violet glow of street lights. 

And his hand… his hand is achingly close to your own.

Its a position you frequently found yourself in: walking side by side, almost touching, but never quite close enough to grasp at his hand. 

You’ve never really seen yourself as someone to make first moves, but this has gone on for too long. And your fingertips are begging you to do something about this distance between you two. 

You swallow hard.

Choking back your hesitation, you brush your hand against his.

He doesn’t pull away, only sending you a quick glance. Kenji’s soft smile doesn’t budge, though he does raise an eyebrow at you.

You assume that this is a good sign. He doesn’t seem uncomfortable, the moment feels natural, and this… this could actually work.

You take one more deep breath and gingerly link your fingers with his-

But before you can even blink, Kenji snaps his hand back to his side. His head whips toward you, feet stopping in their tracks.

“What… what are you doing,” he stammers, eyes widening.

You wince. That wasn’t the reaction you were hoping for. Far from it.

“I think that’s-” You glance down at your rejected hand, eyes wide, “-kind of obvious.”

He stares at you, mouth agape. You take a step back, heart dropping. Why would he pull his hand back? Did I do something wrong-

“I’m seeing someone-” He breathes, “-you knew that.”

Like a tree branch splintering after a lightning strike, you feel as though something inside of you has cracked and split. 

Your body can’t decide if your blood should turn to ice from shock or if it should succumb to the heat of humiliation rising in your chest. How did you not know this?

And why hadn’t you just asked him first? 

That’s what normal people did. If you hadn’t acted based on a silly impulse maybe you would have spoken to him about your relationship with him first… but it’s too late now. And the pressure continues to build up in your stomach until you feel like a balloon on the verge of popping.

“...you knew that… didn’t you?”

Something sharp stabs at your heart.

“I had no idea.” Your reply is flat. Distant.

It twists.

“I- I’m so sorry, I could’ve sworn I’d told you…” He responds softly.

In a tearing motion, it rips back out.

“No. You hadn’t.” You say curtly, eyes glazing over.

You let on to the bitterness welling up in your chest more than you wish you would have… but who could blame you? 

Tucking your hands deep into your pants pockets, you try to hold your composure. 

Your mouth is uncomfortably dry and your hands are suddenly very sweaty. 

What does someone do in a situation like this? 

You’d always assumed that this was the type of thing to happen to somebody else. Thinking that feelings were mutual and then being struck with the fact that your “almost-boyfriend” was actually already deep into a relationship. It sounds like something out of a teenage romance novel... but it’s clear that the shame clouding your mind is not secondhand.

Unintentionally or not, Kenji had led you on… and here you are, feeling like you’ve just been publicly gutted.

He doesn’t owe you anything. No, not at all. 

If anything, you owe him for all of the kindness he’s extended to you. 

But that doesn’t explain everything he’s done for you these past few months. 

Paying for meals even though you’d practically fought him for bills at every restaurant you’d visited together. Spending hours together on weekends when you both had work to complete. Meeting his friends, taking the train together on days when your schedules collided, exploring the city and your past with him…

You’d wondered why he hadn’t asked you out yet.

It didn’t make any sense.

Maybe he was confused too?

A thought crosses your mind that maybe he may have been using you as some sort of support system. Maybe you were just let into his life to comfort him through his own relational instability. Were you just Kenji’s escape? Is he just completely unaware?

But now you’re just jumping to conclusions. It might not be anything of the sort. Trying to piece together a story that doesn’t add up in the first place won’t help you at all - at least, not right after such a blatant rejection.

You take another step back, effectively tuning out anything he has to say. The light on his face no longer reflects something inviting; instead, all you can see is the confusion marring his previously peaceful expression.

He’s trying to talk to you, he’s taking steps toward you, he’s even reaching a hand out… but you just can’t. Not with the discomfort in your chest and a thundercloud of tension rumbling above you.

You can’t remember what shitty excuse you’d made to get out of there, but not even 10 minutes after this awkward, messy, fucked up moment, you’re on a train back home. 

And everything is numb. 

The shuffle and shake of the passenger car is enough to distract you for now.

But the moment you get home - the very second you kick off your shoes - insecurity comes knocking at the door of your mind. 

You lay face down on the couch. The room stirs in darkness, gloom sinking into the cracks of the wall and pooling at the corners of your eyes. Because how was this fair? What had you done to deserve this? Was nothing going to be easy for you?

You let yourself cry.

Questions swim through your mind. Fears too. The pain of, once again, being alone exposes itself through heavy tears and spluttering sobs.

So you attempt to bury it all deep down...

As far from the surface as it can go... 

But as most things do, these questions and insecurities will resurface. 

It’s only a matter of time.

—

You noticed it from the moment you woke up.

The stiffness in your arms and the churning in your stomach were telltale signs… but as the hours rolled on and the sun sunk lower in the sky, it became more obvious. 

Your lungs were fine yesterday, but today they shrink and tighten with every passing minute.

In an attempt to distract yourself, you’ve switched on the TV and turned to Netflix for comfort. It isn’t much, but the modulated noise of a baking show and a warm blanket draped over your lap blocks out some of the dizzying worries in your head.

First date nerves are a thing.

The clammy palms, the jitters, the loss of appetite… you have it all. 

You’re well aware that this is a universal experience, so you try to empathize with yourself. There’s no reason to be embarrassed by it. Shame would only drag you deeper into this muddy pit of nerves that you’re so desperately trying to claw your way out of.

But this technically isn’t even a date. 

And you’re not about to assume that it’s anything like one.

Just to be safe, you’ve decided that this outing would blandly be categorized as a “sporadic meet up with a stranger.” Your words, not Atsumu’s. 

But just because it isn’t technically a date doesn’t mean you can’t be jittery… 

You grip the remote in your hand tighter. It accidentally shuts the TV off, but that’s probably for the better. You haven’t gotten ready yet and it’s getting close to 5 pm. Somehow you’d managed to snuggle the day away in your apartment. Again.

Letting out an anxious yawn, you hop up from your nestled position on the couch.

You step into the hallway and make your way to the bathroom to wash your face. As you patter the length of the hall, you finally allow your mind to roam. It immediately hones in on your anxieties like a dog chasing a delightfully peeved squirrel.

Is it pathetic? To be 20 something years old and petrified by something as simple as a dinner date? 

Your brain says “no,” but a part of you is whispering out a quiet “yes” in response. Most people would be excited to see someone after being lonely for so long. 

So why are you this bothered? What’s with this piercing fragility that makes your hands shake and your skin crawl? 

When did you become so… scared? Like you would crumble just by being in the presence of another person?

And then it hits you. Your head plummets into your hands.

Ever since you’d met Atsumu, you haven’t had the mental stamina to think about Izumi Kenji. 

Or what he’d done to you. Or how he’d metaphorically pushed you when you were already toeing at the precipice of a cliff. You’d been a step away from falling and breaking under the weight of the past few years, and he’d shattered you in a single night.

So, yes, that would explain the current twisting in your chest. It’s also probably why you’re so worried about Atsumu. Or, at least, it’s one big reason as to why, you conclude.

But, even with this epiphany, you find yourself stepping into the bathroom, wrung dry and physically unsteady. Thinking about Kenji doesn’t make you feel any better.

Your fingers grip the rim of the porcelain sink, eyes fixed on the drain in the center. 

You stare at it. 

One reminder of him and you were already weary. 

The glossiness of the bowl reflects a splotchy, humanesque blob back at you. You swivel the faucet handle, letting warm water coast around the bowl and spiral down the drain. It erases that human-like reflection.

If only it could wash away your problems. Now that’d be something to write home about.

The cool of the tile beneath your feet and a splash of warm water on your face is a welcome distraction… but short-lived. The water drips off of your face. You blindly feel around for a fresh towel and, after laying your hands on one, you gently pat your face down.

Blinking your eyes open, you stand up straight.

As you do, you find yourself studying a much clearer reflection than the blurry face in the sink bowl. Sunken features bore into you from the bathroom mirror. You sigh and turn to open up a medicine cabinet to grab a few facial products, applying them one-by-one.

If you do happen to crash and burn tonight, you figure you might as well look damn good in the process. Skincare would help with that.

But before you can further sink into the idea that tonight might turn into another nightmarish scenario, a friendly face, someone sunny and charming, enters your mind. 

The picture Atsumu’s wavy hair and that smug smile of his. While the rest of his face is a little fuzzy in your mind, you vividly remember how his mouth quirk upwards and the electric buzz you felt from the sheer warmth of his eyes.

Atsumu has been on your mind a lot these days. And, as much as it’s been a distraction, it’s also been a welcome mental detour. 

Somehow, the very thought of him coaxes your own lips to relax into a smile. You sigh, tilting your head back in defeat. So this is what 3 years of loneliness can do to a person - how embarrassing.

But you can’t deny that he gives you something to look forward to - an emotion you can’t quite put your finger on. You two share a connection; there’s some common ground that hasn’t been dug up just yet. And, for whatever it’s worth, you want to keep digging until you figure it out.

As you smooth a moisturizer over your skin, you decide that you’ll wear something nice tonight. Maybe you’ll pick out an outfit you haven’t worn before and do your best to drown your shaky hands in the fabric of a long-sleeved shirt. If it goes well, maybe you’ll have found someone who actually likes you.

If it doesn’t work out, you can just drive back home and forget he ever existed. Simple as that.

But... 

You’d like to think that Atsumu could be just as sweet as he seems; assuming the worst about him would get you nowhere.

You continue to repeat that to yourself before you leave. That all you can do is hope it goes well. 

Nothing more, nothing less. 

—

You rest your foot firmly on the brake and switch the gearshift so that your car is in park. You rub your eyes and double-check the location on your phone’s GPS. Back at your apartment, it looked like you would be arriving at a café near the park… but you’re not so sure anymore.

Did… did Atsumu really send you here?

You never entertained the idea of him being a prankster… but if this was, perhaps, a practical joke? Well, you’re not above calling him and telling him to “fuck off.” There’s nothing stopping you from driving away and blocking his number right now.

Scrolling through the map application, you notice that you’re relatively close to several restaurants, so there is that. He’d promised you dinner and there’s an abundance of food within walking distance.

But you weren’t expecting to pull up to such a secluded location. You shiver in your seat and grip the steering wheel. Does he realize just how scary it is to meet someone at a random place like this?

Whipping out your phone, you tap a quick message containing something along the lines of “why the hell did you send me to a park.” Your therapist would probably give you a high-five for being so straightforward.

You hit send and sink into your chair. 

A brief glance out your car window helps to settle your frayed nerves just a hair. 

It’s not quite as empty as you thought it was. The area is just… calm. Many couples stroll along the main path, hand-in-hand. Others are sat on picnic blankets, tucking their toes into the cool grass and chattering away. 

And, most comfortingly of all, it’s still bright outside. 

You thank the sun that it still rests above the horizon, drenching the trees tops and green grass with deep-honey hues. People and daylight mean safety. You’ve had to learn that after living alone for so long.

A text notification pings on your phone only seconds after messaging him. 

You’ll give him some credit. Atsumu is a timely texter. You’ve found yourself in more real-time texting conversations with him than almost anyone else you’ve met in Osaka. And it’s been how long since you met him? A few weeks? A month?

Atsumu’s text reassures you that you’re not at the wrong place.

At least the park was intentional, you nod to yourself. You’re doing your best to trust that he wouldn’t take you somewhere that would make you uncomfortable.

Another text informs you that he’s already seated on a bench near where you parked.

Your heart skips a beat and your head jolts upward, scanning the area. A hand also shoots up to clutch at your chest, gripping the fabric of your top. 

Yep. You’re still jumpy.

But this time, the shaky hands and pounding nerves are rooted in restlessness instead of fear… and maybe a little bit of excitement?

Suddenly, the park is far less frightening.

You step out of the car, wallet and keys in one hand, and smooth out your outfit with your free hand. The wind nips at you through the fabric of your clothes, but with the sunshine painting your skin, it isn’t too bad. 

Maybe bringing a coat would’ve been wiser than relying on this sweater to keep you warm… but it’s too late to think about that now.

Your eyes dart around and you trod through the grass and onto a graveled pathway. It crunches satisfyingly underneath your feet, but you can’t enjoy it when you’re so intent on finding him. With a few short strides, you’re quick to spot the back of someone’s head. A familiar head of blonde waves shines golden thanks to the setting sun. 

You’re almost entirely sure it’s Atsumu.

And as if he had sensed your presence, the man in question tilts a glance over his shoulder.

His face is blank until he catches your eye. 

An easy grin, one brighter than the stars, bursts into existence.

For someone so conventionally attractive, he sure looks excited to see little ole you. Raising your hand, you wave and send him a shy smile back.

He’s quick to jump to his feet and as he does, you’re quickly reminded of just how tall he is. Atsumu’s head matches the height of several tree branches. It makes you think that he’s probably walked into a number of things. Door headers, branches, signs that are hung a couple of inches too low… you’re sure he’s learned to duck and dodge over the years.

You wish you could ask him about that.

You blink.

That’s right. You can ask him about that - you’ll do that later, though.

“Hey there.” He chuckles.

His voice… it’s huskier than you’d remembered.

You spoke with him over the phone just yesterday to confirm that tonight was still happening, so why was his voice giving you chills now? It’s deep and smooth and, without the static from the phone audio, it’s actually kind of sexy.

Okay, you’ve got to calm down.

“Hi,” you reply sweetly, tilting your head.

Should you hug him? Just keep standing there? Hopefully, he’s better at filling awkward silence than you are. You’re not bad at handling social situations, but it seems safer to wait for his cues.

Atsumu keeps his hands in his pockets, “Long time, no see.” 

It’s phrased as if you were both old friends reuniting after years of distance. It kind of feels that way too.

“I don’t actually think it’s been that long.” You raise an eyebrow, keeping a straight face.

“It’sa turn of phrase, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

That word sounds so easy on his tongue, damn it.

A few beats pass… and both of you break into grins once again.

But before you can respond, and much to your confusion, Atsumu spins on his feels to face the pathway. The pebbles under his feet shift as he takes a few steps forward.

He turns his head to catch your eye, “Well? C’mon then, let’s walk and talk,” and juts an arm out.

You stare at him for a moment, confused. 

“Are ya gonna leave me hangin’? Atsumu tilts his head back, a coy smile on his lips as though whatever he’s trying to do is ridiculously obvious.

After a few moments of deep contemplation, realization dawns over your features. He’s extending his elbow out… for you? To hold onto?

Oh.

With a slight flush, you step forth and link arms with him. He grins down at you, perfectly resembling a fox you saw in a National Geographic magazine last week. This is a lot closer than you’d anticipated on getting with him; not that you’re complaining.

Although, for someone you’ve only met twice, you feel like you’ve known him for years. 

The few phone calls and those text conversations have given you some insight into his life, but they don’t explain why you two click so well in person. He’s illogically familiar.

You decide not to question the closeness and instead choose to spark a conversation. 

That should be easy enough; after all, he’d promised you dinner, and you were given directions to a park - you’re anything but questionless.

You lean into his side slightly and break the silence, “You smell good.” 

Considering he’s crossed that line with you already, you aren’t too worried about saying it back to him. 

“Thanks, I showered.” He smiles and shrugs as if to brush off your compliment, but you swear you see a fleeting blush on his cheeks.

“Thank God.” You sigh in mock relief, relaxing your shoulders.

He squints, clicking his tongue, “Okay, no need to tease. At least get to know a guy first,” but his voice is void of offense.

“So if I tease you, you won’t take me to dinner?” A curious tone rings in your voice.

“Oh, I will even if ya do. Where do ya think we’re walkin’ to?”

You snort, “Hopefully a restaurant?”

“Bull’s eye.” He winks.

Atsumu looks down at you and you can’t help but smile up at him. Your nerves had melted away like a popsicle under a blazing summer sun; all that’s left is a sweet, melty feeling that has you feeling a little too comfortable.

Maybe you shouldn’t be so trusting. Protecting yourself has been your number one goal since Kenji let you down…

But that doesn’t mean you can’t laugh or get to know Atsumu. 

It just means you need to keep your expectations in check. This may seem like a date, but until he says something, you won’t jump to conclusions. In the meantime, you just need to keep talking. Enjoy it while it lasts and laugh a little.

You nudge his side, “By the way…”

“Hm?”

“What’s with bringing me to a park?”

You’ve been dying to hear this explanation since you arrived. Sure, the atmosphere is perfect; fall weather is notorious for pleasant walks and colorful leaves. However, you’d like to hear his reasoning.

“I thought we could get to know each other better before stuffin’ our faces.”

You make a face, “Well, doesn’t that sound lovely. You sure have a way with words.” 

Atsumu is nothing if not blunt.

He pouts, eyes narrowing, “You gonna make fun of the way I talk now? I’ll have you know, I’ve been mocked enough to last me a life time. I ain’t all that sensitive anymore.”

You laugh and subconsciously tighten your hold on his arm. 

“Alright Mr. Not Sensitive, I won’t make fun of you anymore.”

If you were paying attention to his face, you might’ve seen another flush of pink… but your eyes are squinting from the sun and Atsumu is sure to pull himself together before you can notice it.

“But I do have some important questions for you,” You begin.

Those words are sure to spark fear into anybody. This is confirmed when his arm stiffens ever so slightly and your eyes crinkle in mischief.

He swallows, “Yeah, go for it.”

“Favorite color?”

Atsumu’s eyes flick down to yours, squinting. They seem to say, “important, my ass.”

He instantly loosens, “Easy. Red.” Confidence is clear in his tone.

You nod. You don’t have to know him well to know that the answer suits him. Atsumu is fiery and he’s burned bright in your mind since you met him. If anyone should be allowed to like red, it’s him.

“Favorite food?”

“Mmm…” He furrows his brows in deliberation, “ I gotta say fatty tuna. But my brother makes some killer onigiri, though. I think that’s a close second.”

Your brows shoot up, eyes widening. He’d never mentioned anything about his family before this.

“You have a brother?” You press, leaning in to study his face while trying not to trip over your own two feet.

“Technically, a twin. But I’m the older one...” He huffs, “...and the better lookin’ one.”

Your jaw drops. “I can’t believe you hadn’t mentioned him before this!” 

As an only child, you can only imagine what it’d be like to have a sibling, much less a twin. 

“Well,” Atsumu rolls his eyes at you, “He’s alright…”

It looks like he’s about to change the subject, but one glance at your face is all it takes for him to realize that you want to hear more. Your eyes are sparkling. Full of vibrant curiosity… how could he stop now?

You’re actually interested in him.

“We’re really close actually,” Atsumu clears his throat, straightening up a little. “I mean, he isn’t like me at all. He’s real’ calm in comparison. A great cook. Some people say he’s handsome - but he got the looks from me, y’know?”

You roll your eyes, keeping in stride with him. “Yeah, yeah, keep going.”

“He’s good with the ladies, smart, athletic...” He rambles on. “If he’d just slow down a little, he would probably be married by now...”

You just listen, fully invested in his words. 

It’s nice to hear about family - you haven’t seen your’s in a long time. 

The fondness in Atsumu’s expression seeps through his abbreviated words. 

He looks almost pained as he compliments his twin and amusement flickers in your eyes as you watch it all unfold. You hadn’t asked for a dating profile description of his brother, but you’re not about to shut him up.

“I bet you’d like him. Not as much as you’d like me, of course,” he smirks and your chest tightens. 

The butterflies you’d thought you’d left back in highschool seem to have dusted themselves off and started fluttering again.

“But, yeah. He’s a good guy.”

Atsumu’s free hand then runs through his hair, pushing the waves back. You can see a sudden onset of nerves on his face. He’s quick to hide it though.

“And, uh, just so you know… he may or may not own the restaurant I’m taking you to tonight.”

That’s enough for you plant your feet in place. Atsumu stops as well. 

He’s… taking you to his brother’s restaurant.

You gaze up at him, at a loss for words.

Is his brother going to be there? I mean, it is his place. But meeting his family? Out of the blue, like this? It’s all out of order. 

You can’t help but wonder if he’s ever going to give your racing heart a chance to settle.

“Is that too much?” Atsumu is quick to cut in. His voice isn’t gentle… but even with it’s roughness, you can hear something that resembles concern.

“A- ah, no! It’s fine!” You reassure him, “I… I’m happy to go.”

His shoulders drop down again and so do yours.

There’s no point in getting worked up about it. But it’s becoming clear that Atsumu isn’t a very conventional person. Nor is he daunted by sporadic plans. Next time, you’ll ask for a point-by-point itinerary, just to be safe.

Atsumu reveals the name of the restaurant, “Onigiri Miya,” and you find yourself asking more family-related questions as you two dawdle down the pathway…

Which naturally leads to conversations about high-school.

It turns out that he and his twin were on a volleyball team together. Which makes sense. He definitely has the muscle, the height, and the spunk to be an athlete. 

You know shit about the sport, but that doesn’t mean you don’t see the gleam in his eyes when he rattles off a story about one of his old games. It’s been a long time since you last listened to someone speak about something so passionately.

But there’s even more. 

You hear mentions of many boys’ names. 

There’s his brother, Osamu; he mentions their little spats and occasional fist fights. Although he makes sure to clarify that they’re both a lot more level headed nowadays. Next is Atsumu’s upperclassman, Kita; he’s someone Atsumu respects and fears with every inch of his being. Then there’s Suna, Omimi, Aran, and… too many others to count.

Games and nationals and several terms you can’t quite grasp swim through your head as you re-live some of Atsumu’s own memories with him.

His high-school years sound exciting, bright, and funny. Of course, those experiences would create the charming mess that is Atsumu Miya.

After padding under draping treetops, you both finally make it out of the park and onto the sidewalks. 

Restaurants and small shops line the streets and pedestrians cross in groups across the narrow roads. At this point, the sun is loosing its shine, sinking beneath the trees’ branches and ever-darkening buildings. But you, with your phone in your pocket and your arm in his, feel safe. 

Atsumu’s effortlessness and his blunt way of speaking really made for easy conversation. 

But before you can ask him if he still plays volleyball, you find yourself standing in front of a small, bright storefront: “Onigiri Miya.” The words are plastered on a wooden board in white, chalk paint. It’s sleek and cute - if you’d stumbled upon the shop before this, you’d have walked in of your volition.

“I’m thinkin’ I just talked your ear off the whole way here.” Atsumu sighs apologetically.

You shrug, “I guess that just means I’m a good listener.”

In all honestly, you’re glad he rambled. It got rid of your restlessness and calmed your racing thoughts.

He unlinks your arm from his and your side is now exposed to the cold air. It only just hits you how physical that walk had been. Even without a coat, having him at your side had kept you warm and cozy.

How long has it been since you were comfortably side-by-side with someone? It’s been months since you’d been around Kenji… years since you last slept with someone you actually liked… but when was the last time you held a hand or wrapped your arm around someone else’s? 

Atsumu’s words cut into your thoughts, “You’re easy to talk to, but I wanna hear more about you when we get inside.” 

And he’s holding the door open for you, one hand clasped around the handle and the other tucked casually into his pocket. You thank him… he didn’t give you the impression of being “gentlemanly” or whatever that word meant, but you find the gesture to be sweet. 

As you step inside the small restaurant, your senses are overtaken by the smell of freshly cooked rice and an explosion of delicious seasonings. There are bar stools open at the front counter and metal chairs surrounding worn-down wooden tables. The atmosphere is homely and diner-like; as though, no matter how often you actually visited, you would be treated as a regular.

Someone calls out from the back, “C’mon in, I cleared the place out for y’all.”

The voice resembles Atsumu’s style of speech; gruff and straight to the point… but a little smoother. Then you realize what that voice had actually said. There’s nobody else here.

“Alright, we’ll make ourselves at home then. I can take your-”

He scans you for a jacket… that doesn’t exist.

“You didn’t bring a coat.” He says flatly.

You glance down at your outfit, grasping the edge of your sweater and feathering a thumb over its seam.

“I forgot one.” You admit, looking back up to him, “Why? Is that a problem?”

“Nah, I was just gonna offer to take it.”

You hadn’t noticed what he’d been wearing before this, but now that you’re under the soft lighting of the restaurant, you realize he’s dressed up a little. 

Atsumu removes a short, tan coat and places it onto the back of a chair. A black turtleneck sweater is revealed underneath. The fabric outlines his chest and arms in the most unfair way while the dark color pleasantly contrasts his lighter skin tone. 

How hadn’t you noticed how gut-wrenchingly attractive he was before this? 

With how fast things were moving and how comfortable you felt talking to him, you must’ve conveniently glossed over this fact. It’s not like you’d planned on getting to know him.

But now that you do? Well, it doesn’t hurt that he basically has the body of Chris Hemsworth. Atsumu’s definitely not some Walmart version of him though - this boy deserves his own brand of attractiveness.

You swallow hard as your eyes trail his body.

“Like whatcha see?”

You startle, shuffling backward. If you weren’t already out of your element, you sure are now. Caught red-handed (red-eyed?) staring at your not-date. 

“Awh, c’mon I’m joking - take a seat,” Atsumu pulls a chair out for you, cringing when it lets out a shrill squeak on the floor. The sound rings through the air and you find yourself laughing.

In a swift motion, you jump up and onto the chair.

He slides the chair back toward the bar counter, except this time you both expect the screeching of the chair’s legs. It’s worse than nails on a chalkboard, but it’s perfect for loosening up any tightness in the airspace. This time, it’s his turn to chuckle.

He mutters out a quick, “Sorry,” but you just shake your head, amused.

Snagging his own chair, and this time lifting it off of the ground to avoid bursting another eardrum, Atsumu slides up next to you.

You lean on the counter, a hand propping up your cheek. “That was very smooth, Atsumu.”

“Thanks,” he rolls his eyes, “I try.”

“‘Tsumu? Smooth? Yeah, right,” that same voice travels from the kitchen to the front of the store.

Footsteps are soon to follow it and you’re greeted by Chris Hemsworth 2.0. Maybe you should refer to him as Liam Hemsworth? Nope, Osamu, you quickly decide, is also his own genre of attractive.

Although Osamu is dressed in a simple, black “Onigiri Miya” t-shirt and cap, he could probably be a Calvin Klein model. For someone who owns a restaurant, his muscle tone is absolute perfection - these brothers are really something. 

And their resemblance of each other, though twins, is almost uncanny. You thank some unknown force that hair-dye exists, because if you saw them from a distance, you may not be able to tell them apart.

“Ah, shaddup. You’re just sayin’ that cuz you’re jealous,” the blonde snorts.

“Jealous of what? Your shit attempts at flirtin’?”

“That’s below the belt, ‘Samu. Don’t be such an ass.”

‘Tsumu? ‘Samu? That’s cute, you chuckle to yourself. Of course, these guys would have nicknames for each other. It was common sense.

You sit back as they bicker, wondering who must’ve raised these 6-foot chaotic giants. You’d love to meet them just to give them a medal and a bouquet of flowers for putting up with them. They must’ve dealt with so much bullshit.

“I could say the same to you. Ya haven’t properly introduced me yet.” He nods his head toward you, cool-grey eyes warming up when they meet yours.

Your lips quirk into a smile and before you know it, you’ve introduced yourself. 

He copies your smile, though it’s much softer than your own, and begins his own little introduction; although you’re sure that, with all the information Atsumu has already listed off to you, you don’t really need one.

“I’m Miya Osamu, but that’s probably obvious by now,” he adjusts his cap, “Callin’ me Miya would be confusin’ for all of us, so just Osamu’s fine.”

He’s polite and carries himself confidently, but his voice is a little softer than Atsumu’s. Or, it is when he’s speaking to you. There’s a brotherly gentleness to his tone and it relaxes you instantly.

“Please keep in mind that I’m the better twin,” Atsumu adds, shooting daggers at his brother.

Osamu shoots them right back, but you don’t fail to notice the playful fondness behind their eyes. You can almost picture them as kids, with band-aids on their knees and mud on their clothes. They make it seem like being twins meant having a built-in best friend.

Their closeness is overwhelming. 

There’s a warmth in the atmosphere, and you’re positive that it’s not just because something’s cooking in the kitchen. It feels special, just being allowed to sit and watch them banter. 

And the fact that Atsumu is sharing this with you?

Well, you’re counting yourself very lucky to be here right now.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Weird, “A Preoccupation with Death.”

Hope you enjoy :)

Analysis By Dr. Krill MD

Humanity’s preoccupation with death has always fascinated me: I say fascinated because to say that it disturbs me would be rather unscientific, and I have been attempting to reign in my anger… I have had some… complaints over the last year about the unprofessionalism of my previous papers. The GA community does not appreciate, and I quote, “Excessive swearing, and screaming” in virtual reports, so today I will attempt to be calm and relaxed as I explain to you, common human traditions based around death.

Now you must understand, from my perspective these practices are quite bizarre. Vrull have no rituals associated with death. The Vrull are disposed of and their bodies are incinerated. The ash is then disposed with by mixing into the soil to produce needed plants on the planet surface. There are no other options, and no other arrangements are made.

However, I am told that funeral rights with humans are, often, more to do with what the living need than what the deceased do. However, there are some funeral rights believed to be required in certain human cultures, so that rule does not always hold completely true.

I will begin from the moment of death.

Unlike the Vrull humans do not know their exact time of death. Granted this is not because the Vrull have a set clocking system in their bodies which sets the time in which we die, but because our society sets forth a time of our usefulness. No one knows how long a Vrull can feasibly live because no one has tried it before. I myself might plan on finding out, as I have no intention of returning for my scheduled termination, which is already a year overdue.

Humans, like most other species die in several different ways, accidents, sickness, or the sudden failure of the body due to old age, the final one generally happening peacefully and in their sleep.

However this is where humans tend to diverge from their inhuman counterparts, in that they are very social creatures, the death of a human is usually witnessed by multiple family members and friends, in the case of sickness, and is mourned many weeks after because the death of someone in your social circle changes that circle forever. Social bonds are cut and entire social lives are upended. Humans bond so heavily with each other that the loss of one of their own can lead to mental and emotional trauma extreme enough to require medication and hospitalization.

Humans plan their deaths months to years in advance. In certain instances, their jobs force them to plan their death in advance in case something were to happen. Decisions need to be made about who owns their property, where it goes, what happens to their dwellings, and how the surviving members of their family will be supported. Sometimes they plan this due to terminal illness which they knew will lead to their deaths, otherwise they might just do it out of precaution.

There are many different ways of disposing of a corpse. First of all, you must determine if any of the human parts are recyclable: this being the very morbid idea of taking someone else’s organs and giving them to another person. Now with the advancement of this technology, organ transplants from donors is not as common as it once was seeing as they can now 3D print organs. However, this method is not time effective and is very costly, in some cases leaving the harvesting of deceased human organs to be the only viable option.

Yes, they take organs from dead people… the doctor and surgeon in me admires that thought process, but the thinking breathing creature inside of me recoils heavily at the idea.

Assuming that no one requires your organs, or if you have especially requested for your organ not to be used  than there are other questions that need to be addressed. There are humans who have jobs especially in the business of taking care of dead bodies. They are generally moved in special containers and placed in refrigerated units to slow decomposition while the relatives determine what they want to do with the body.

In certain cases, where the death is suspicious, as related to murder, there are, in fact, humans who specilize in determining the cause and time of death based on the decomposition rate of a body and the stiffness of the flesh itself. This is a semi-common practice across the galaxy, and I myself have performed one or two autopsies since my professional career began though they are far more common for humans.

I find that the most humane method of human enterrement, and the one that makes most sense to me as a Vrull is the idea of cremation. The body is taken and placed in a furnace that is then heated enough to turn the body to ash leaving only bone fragments and the occasional mineral deposit. The ash may then be given to the family members or disposed of accordingly. Some humans find it comforting to keep the remains in some sort of container.... A fact which I find morbid but, we have proven in abundance that I find much of what humanity does, rather morbid.

It is only going to get worse.

The other method of disposal, popular through human history, however made someone obscure in recent centuries due to the proliferation of human burial sites…. The common north american and European Burial and funeral rights went as follows. After death, and freezing in the morgue, a special human with the job of mortician is called in to prepared the body for burial…. This is where it gets very morbid.

The body is drained of all of its fluids and then pumped full of preservatives to slow down the process of decomposition. The faces are then painted with makeup to give the corpse the appearance of sleep rather than death. The body is dressed in fine clothing and placed inside a coffin or casket: these in themselves can cost thousands of dollars as the family members decide what materials the box should be made out of and lined with, precious metals, woods like oak or steel, and the inside lined in velvet satin or silk. The body is placed inside with the person dressed in a finely tailored suit before a hearse: a special vehicle designed to carry caskets is brought to the place of mourning, generally a curch or a funeral home.

Many times the body is then put through a “viewing”.... It sounds just as bad as I make it seem, when the humans come in…. In large groups…. To stare at their dead relative. Just…. Stare at their rotting corpse before it is hauled away and lowered into an six foot hole in the earth. A decorative rock is then place on top of that inscribed with the deceased’s name so that everyone knows where to find their moldering corpse….

….

….

I am told this provides a lot of closure for family members, though I have yet to understand why staring at a painted corpse would be helpful.’

Unfortunately, with humans, this isn't the most gruesome method they have of corpse disposal, nor the most involved 

You may also chose to donate your body to science…

They might hand your bod over to a medical school, where aspiring doctors will, in groups, dissect your corpse slowly over an intervening few weeks or months. It is… gruesome, but a necessary part of the learning process. Your skeleton might even be recycled for use as a tool to demonstrate the skeletal structure to those very same students.

Perhaps your body will end up in a museum, where they will encase your nervous system in plaster and place it on a wall for school children and visiting day travelers to view.

Perhaps you might donate your body to…. A body farm. A palace where scientists will toss your corpse out into different elements to observe the rate and change of decomposition based on different dump sites. They will examine the decomposition, the moisture loss, and the bugs which take to eating your body. This research will then be used to determine the cause o death for other corpses disposed of by murderers or in similar fashion.

It is gruesome, but I suppose…. It is useful for scientific efforts.

These aren't the only methods of body disposal.

Bodies have been tied to the top of large towers

Thrown into the woods to be eaten by animals

Dumped into pits.

And in a couple of cases, launched into the vacuum of space.

Different rituals require family members to spend more or less time with the body, to wrap it in special cloth, or to anoint it with certain oils. 

The Egyptians were widely known for their complex and involved enterrement rituals commonly known as mummification.

The body was first embalmed

The brain was removed

The organs removed and placed in specialized canopic jars 

The body was then dried

Then wrapped which continued to help in the drying process 

Then the body was finally entered, and due to the sandy heat of the desert, the body was often preserved to a great and surprising degree. Egyptians believed that those things you had in life would come with you after death, and so egyptian rulers were entered with great riches and inside grand palaces 

Then of course there is the last ritual which I learned about just recently.

Certain tribal societies will….. Eat…. their dead….

They will eat them….

As in the entire village will get together and consume the corpse in a feast, believing that without this they cannot enter the afterlife.

…..

…

…

…

…

I am going to draft a proposal to the GASC that screaming and profanities should be considered scientifically appropriate when in regards to humans

[hoe-doroki]

passing the night stars

banner by @dymphnasprose​

warning: reader has social anxiety

pairing: shinsou x reader (platonic or romantic)

genre: hurt/comfort

wc: 3.2k

summary: The party was neon and you needed darkness.

a/n: this is a gift for my SiL’s birthday today! To any astronomy nerds: I tried and I’m sorry.

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

There was something to be said about distance.

It was a buffer, quieting every voice, external and internal, until the only one left was that of the crickets singing over the lo-fi spilling out of the house behind you. You’d stepped away from the party long enough ago that the playlist had started over many songs back—you had no clue how many anymore. The distance turned the music’s thrumming into a quiet melody, the lyrics just as indistinguishable up close as here in the backyard, sitting on patio furniture that rocked lopsidedly in the grass.

Any filter would do, though. Anything that could soften the world just a little around its loud, coarse edges. The ice in your peach-flavored hurricane melting so that the drink was a little less saccharine. The rum casting a film over your mood, keeping your loneliness from dropping you into total dolor. The slight late-night breeze blowing the smoke from the fire pit away from you so that the acrid smell was stronger on the hood of your black sweatshirt than the air. It all muddled your emotions, numbing the buzzing overwhelm of the party to an anxious hum. The party had been neon, and out here you had a bit more darkness.

Without these buffers absorbing some of the furor, you might have escaped the party hours ago. Snuck out while the thing was still in full thrall, before social anxiety could hiss over your bones. Got out while you were ahead. Instead, you’d lasted as long as you could before out to the backyard with the near-dead fire, wracked with guilt at the prospect of leaving without saying goodbye, while too nervous to actually draw the attention to yourself necessary to actually say goodbye.

That wasn’t to say you hadn’t held up for a good while, though. You’d hung out with your friends when the fire had just gotten started and then when the party had moved indoors for drinking games and edibles. You’d hovered on the border as your friends grew more interested in dancing in drunken delay to the somniferous lo-fi beat than conversation. Then the itching had started in your brain, and before you knew it, you were out here, social battery drained dry, waiting for an indefinite future in which you could find the energy to escape.

You shivered as footsteps swiped through the grass, crickets chirping at the intruder.

“Did I surprise you?” Shinsou asked, his voice deep from booze or smoke or both. Or, maybe he was just tired, you figured, as the harsh light of the fire sharpened the bags under his eyes into dark creases.

“Breeze,” you mumbled, goosebumps rising on your wrists, standing the fine hairs on end. Only a few licks of heat from the pit were touching your knees, leaving the rest of you cold in your threadbare sweatshirt as the fire shrank smaller and smaller.

Shinsou had a blanket in his arms, ratty and certainly stolen from the back of the living room couch. He blinked at you for a second before he asked, “Can I join you?”

His voice was deadpan. Between the two of you, there was no real vocal inflection to speak of. Still, you shrugged one shoulder and said, “Sure.”

You stiffened when, instead of choosing one of the many other patio chairs or foldable camping chairs forming a friendly circle around the fire, he joined you on your bench, tossing a bit of blanket over your knees. You hardly realized you were staring at him until he said, “You’re cold, right?”

“Oh, yeah, a little,” you said, tucking your knees up to your chin and curling the scrap of blanket around your arms.

The blanket was raggedy in your hands, pilled on the hem, but warm from being indoors with all the dancing bodies. Plus, clinging onto it, running your thumb over the uneven texture gave you something to focus on instead of Shinsou’s body so close to yours.

Your senses were tingling, raw at having someone nearby again. It was too soon—you still didn’t have anything to say, no defense for why you’d dropped off from the party without a word.

But, on the other hand, being alone wasn’t fixing you either. Parts of your brain were still coiled taut as compression springs, and while they weren’t getting any tighter, they weren’t quite loosening yet either. It was rest, not recovery.

Abruptly—was it abrupt, or were you that zoned out?—Shinsou touched the back of his hand to yours, nearly making you flinch as he furrowed his brows at you. “How long have you been out here?” he asked, shifting towards you and pushing more of the blanket into your lap.

“Oh, um—” maybe a half an hour, maybe more, “—not that long.”

For that flash of contact, his skin had been hot against yours, so you could only imagine how cold your hands had felt to him. Your icy drink was probably mostly to blame, but you were also suddenly aware of how your shoulders were hunched nearly to your ears, your arms clenched to your sides like your chest might warm them. You piled the blanket a little more over your knees and one shoulder, only the hand holding your drink poking out.

“Hard being on the fringes,” he mused as he took a sip from a can. Possibly seltzer, probably beer.

You mirrored, tasting your own drink. It was really mostly water by now, though you were sure it was still painting your tongue orange.

Shinsou’s situation wasn’t much different than yours. Everyone in that house was old classmates. Shinsou was too, but he’d come late. Not too late to be friends, but late enough that it mattered. You were even later—not a classmate, but a post-high school roommate. You’d both landed on the side of Kaminari’s friend group, but neither of you were the core of it. The heart of it. That, for reasons you couldn’t quite understand, was Bakugou.

For some reason, you and Shinsou had never talked about this before.

“Hard being in a group big enough for there to be a fringe.”

Because, of course, it wasn’t just the Bakusquad here today. The majority of the old 3-A was here, those who weren’t on duty or suffering with early morning duty tomorrow. Enough people to certainly cause a ruckus and maybe a noise complaint that even pro heroes wouldn’t get out of.

“Touché”

The two of you fell into silence, and you couldn’t help but wonder exactly what had drawn Shinsou from the party. Even if he didn’t feel he was the most popular guy in the room, you’d seen the way he had the ability to talk to everyone. You weren’t sure if it was a product of his quirk or what, but he was able to start a conversation with everyone he met. He didn’t seem shy or anxious in the least.

Then again, that was just what he presented. You knew from that what you put forth in public wasn’t necessarily in line with what you were feeling.

It was hard to be the introvert around a group like yours. Worse—it was noticeable. This wasn’t the first time you’d stumbled away from a party, mind half gone not on alcohol or weed but on the sudden assault of attention, loud voices, and talk of hero work. Being one of the only non-heroes in the room was exhausting, and maybe that’s why you’d had to escape. Or maybe there never was a reason, good or otherwise, and you were just here because of your stupid self.

“Clear night,” Shinsou commented, “Don’t get to see much of the stars in the city.”

You looked up, a bright spot in the center of your vision from where you’d been staring into the fire. Almost everyone in your group lived in the city, not too far from each other, depending on your definition of the word. But those with quirks better suited outside the city, like Tsuyu and Koda, had moved out of town post graduation, granting the rest of you access to a night in the suburbs like this.

The truth was, you hardly looked up at the sky in the city. Tourists were always looking up, eyes glinting off the skyscrapers and billboards. But natives were always looking down, too aware of the fact that other natives didn’t always clean up after their dogs and, with so little grass, the sidewalk often needed a close eye kept to it.

But here, it was pretty. Not the smog-stained brown you were used to, but deep blue and twinkling with infinite pinpricks.

“Mm,” you hummed, taking another sip of your watery drink. “You’re right.”

“There’s Cassiopeia,” he said, pointing just over the tree line.

You followed his finger, unsure quite of what you were looking at. The stars hardly looked like clusters to you, especially on a night like this where you could see so many. It was more a broad network of them, either all connected or all individual. All the stars or just a star.

“You know constellations?” you asked, ears latching onto something that finally wasn’t hero related. Truth be told, you probably knew less about stars than you did about hero work but it was less alienating. You could lean into it.

“Some,” he offered. “Cassiopeia is a basic one.”

“Where is it?”

Shinsou glanced at you, leaning in closer so that his finger could match your gaze. You shoulders knocked and you could feel his wild hair against your own. His finger traced down and up, down and up in a cockeyed W. “Cassiopeia, mother of Andromeda.”

“She’s a woman?”

It was any wonder that ancient people had looked into the night sky and seen things like rams and bulls, creating a whole woman out of a few diagonal lines. Still, you listened to Shinsou, his low voice rumbling into your tired bones as he began.

“A beautiful woman,” he answered. “In Greek myth, she thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Her boastfulness made Poseidon angry, so he created a sea monster that Andromeda was sacrificed to. Andromeda was left to await her fate when Perseus, who had just killed Medusa, used Medusa’s head to turn the sea monster to stone. After saving Andromeda, the two of them got married, and when they died, they both became constellations alongside Cassiopeia.”

Shinsou’s voice was husky and even as he told the story. The cadences were easy drops, landing you softly before he started up again with his next thought. It was a voice you could be rocked by, a voice you could be held by.

“Do you know where they are too?”

“Just below,” Shinsou said. “Probably come up just in time for the sun to make them invisible.”

“That’s too bad,” you said, curling deeper into the blanket, curling so that on shoulder leaned more onto the bench than the other. You head was almost resting on Shinsou’s shoulder and you could feel his warmth radiating in the cold night. “How do you know all this?”

Shinsou was quiet for a second and your nerves spiked again. You hadn’t even felt them relax, but suddenly your anxiety was scratching again, wondering if you’d misspoke. Or maybe you’d whispered it and he just hadn’t heard you? Before you could decide whether to say it again or apologize, though, he let out a sigh that jostled the blanket.

“Jack of all trades, master of none,” he said by way of explanation.

You cocked your head. Perhaps it was just a good hobby for an insomniac, but you were unsure about the evasiveness. “Did you have to learn a lot for general studies? Or to get in to U.A.?”

“…Yeah.”

You could only imagine. U.A. was an incredibly competitive school for heroes, but that was a specialized course. For general studies you didn’t need to have the physical prowess or the other particular skills that came with heroics, but you had to be an ace in school. It was no small feat to get into general studies, especially while you were trying to pursue something else. You were satisfied with that, ready to let it go and return to the near silence of the crickets and the fire popping, when Shinsou suddenly continued.

“When it looked like my plans to become a hero wouldn’t pan out,” Shinsou began, his words slow, tired, “my parents encouraged me into any and all other interests. None stuck.”

“Oh,” you said quietly, the personal admission taking you aback.

For all the times you’d seen Shinsou talk effortlessly with people in a room, you weren’t sure how personal or vulnerable you’d ever seen him. He seemed comfortable enough probing other people, but this was new. It made the space between you suddenly seem private—so different from the party you’d escaped from. You could still hear the ambient noises of a couple dozen people in there having a good time, but it was suddenly a world away.

“I’m sorry, Shinsou,” you said, brows furrowing as you glanced his eyes, still gazing up at the stars. His parents had probably thought they were being supportive, but it wasn’t the support he’d desired.

“It is what it is,” he said. “It worked out in the end.”

There was the smallest smile on his face at that, barely betraying what must have been true joy at having a dream slip through his fingers only to fly back to him. And he’d earned every bit of it, even if he wanted to keep it to himself.

“So now,” you began softly, “you just have a lot of little things that you can offer people. The little things you could have been. That’s not so bad, right?”

“No, it’s not so bad,” he agreed. “I always liked that story.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Japanese astronomy varies so much from region to region and is usually about more functional things. Harvest, seasons. But these other myths about people with no chance of being heroes becoming ones anyway…”

He trailed off, but the sentiment was there. Trapped in the things he’d done to try and leave heroism behind were little vestiges. The inescapable fact that he was meant to be a hero and would be one anyway, even if the world told him he was a villain, doomed for failure.

The stories had been true.

“Are you feeling better now?” he asked, surprising you.

“Feeling better?”

“You’d been out here for over an hour,” Shinsou stated. “Your eyes were glassy and distant and you were freezing and you didn’t seem to notice.”

“Oh,” you intoned. You hadn’t realized it had been that long. You were sure it had only been half that time.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” he said. “I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay.”

“No, I’m fine,” you said truthfully. “I’m fine now.”

The anxiety from earlier that had been buzzing through you had kept you awake, all while thoroughly draining you. You’d hardly realized just how much until now, with your body not just feeling settled but heavy. The stress had run straight through you, and now you bore the fatigue.

Shinsou glanced down at you out of the corner of his eye. His brows raised and it lifted his whole face, making the dark circles under his eyes just a little less stark. “You look exhausted.”

“You always look exhausted,” you retorted, your first little grin curving along your lips.

In his surprise, Shinsou smiled too. “I know that. Here.”

Shinsou took your forgotten drink from your hand and set it down, then patted his shoulder.

“You should rest for a little while.”

Your eyes met his, searching for anything that looked like obligation or impatience. But there was none. Just a surprising amount of openness and a pretty shade of purple.

“Do you have more myths?”

Shinsou smiled and, once again, his gaze went up to the stars. As he started another tale, you snuggled onto his shoulder, the rest of your body drawing closer to his as well. He didn’t wait long to begin speaking, talking in more detail than he had before. There was no reason to be concerned that he might be boring you, or that you didn’t want to hear it. Really, these stories, these stars that had brought him even the tiniest speck of light were just what you needed too.

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep, and you weren’t sure when you woke up. But when you blinked your eyes awake, the first thing you noticed was that Cassiopeia hadn’t moved far. The second was the feeling of Shinsou’s head tilted against yours, his breath like gentle waves under you.

You shifted, signaling that you were awake, and Shinsou did too, his head lifting from yours. At some point, his arm had wrapped around you, encasing you in his warmth. He didn’t move it, not yet, as your body creaked and you forced yourself to sit up.

“How long?” you murmured, voice barely raspy with sleep.

“Not that long,” Shinsou answered, echoing your reply from earlier.

He didn’t look at his phone or a watch, and hadn’t since he’d come out, so you wondered if he had any clue. Or if it simply hadn’t felt long. Somehow, the idea that his time spent with you hadn’t felt long was a comfort, a relief.

“How are you feeling?”

You checked in, feeling that grogginess that always came in the wake of an intense mental episode. Your brain struggling to catch up and survey the backlash from its earlier antics. That would go away. It always did. “I’m good.”

Shinsou continued to look at you, switching between each eye, double checking your expression for any lie. But he must not have found any, for he leaned back into the bench and relaxed, that tiny ghost of a smile back on his face.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said, gazing out again. “You out here alone before? It had been…well, we were…I wanted to check on you.”

For the first time, Shinsou looked almost a little shy, and you couldn’t help but smile, touched. You put a hand on the shoulder that had just taken your weight and brought his gaze back to you. “Thank you.”

There actually was one thing you knew about stars. You’d heard that every light year a star was away from you was a year into the past you were seeing its light. Looking at the stars was looking millions of years into the past. Despite the fact that these selfsame stars connected you to humans around the world today and those of old, that filter of distance and time rendered them ancient, if not already gone.

But as you looked at Shinsou, their soft, silvery starlight illuminating one side while the last dancing coals of the fire glowed on the other, you were sure that this was the opposite. This wasn’t old or past or known to anyone but the two of you. This wasn’t the stars or even the stories inspired by them.

This was just beginning.

[aelin-queen-of-terrasen]

𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐭 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐎𝐧𝐞

full masterlist - fic masterlist

Rowan glanced at his pocket watch and attempted to swallow his irritation.

How was it only nine-o-clock still? He had already suffered through enough social niceties to last a lifetime.

Now, he listened with but half a mind to his cousin drone on about the night's guests. His head was filled with all the tasks he needed to see to, including searching for a new governess for his sons. His boys kept chasing away every woman he employed and he was hesitant to hire a tutor, because he believed they needed a woman's influence too, now that his own wife was too ill. The physician had done all he could but there was not much hope she would wake, loathe as he was to admit it. Perhaps he should have accepted his mother-in-law's offer and send the boys to their her after all?

"--and Arobynn's here too—"

That caught his attention. "He is?"

"Mhmm. Look, over there, no, no, to the left—besides the pretty redhead, yes, just so."

A man stood by the entrance with a red-haired woman on his arm, tall and muscular, with a fine-boned face. His auburn hair were pulled back into a bun, offsetting his pale skin and the fine cut of his suit was a stark reminder of his prominent position in society, despite the whole stigma around tradesmen.

"I knew he was fond of flaunting convention but escorting his mistress to a ball?"

"You haven't heard?" James approached them with a drink in his hand. "She is not his mistress but an adoptive daughter of sorts and his apparent heir."

Fenrys choked on his drink.

"He named a girl heir to his trade empire—and not even his own blood—stupid!"

"Spoken like a man," said the gentleman and shook his head. "He raised her himself, is introducing her to all his associates and she doesn't look dumb either."

James nodded towards the redhead he had seen earlier, dressed in the finest black silk with a neckline low enough, it bordered on scandalous. Her copperish-red hair were pinned into an elegant coiffure with pretty, gold hair combs and a simple, pearl necklace completed the striking picture she made. Her sharp, defined features were barely beautiful until she laughed—a musical sound in itself—and he wondered whether he had seen anyone prettier.

"If hers was the last face I ever saw, I'd die a happy man." Fenrys sighed and walked off.

James rolled his eyes. "He's about to seek an introduction to her, isn't he?"

Rowan's lips twitched up.

He had always liked James. The man was completely without artifice and his enthusiasm for everything was so infectious, no one could remain angry with him. He had spent a few summers with the Galathynius children, until their youngest daughter was abducted and the visits stopped.

"I say you must frown a little less, sir, unless you wish to give offense."

Rowan looked up, startled at being addressed by the object of his thoughts. She looks even lovelier up close, thought he.

"I detest these events."

"So do half the people in this room and yet, appearances must be maintained."

"Deceit is not in my nature."

The lady frowned. "It is not deceitful to pretend you are interested in an event in order to spare your host's feelings."

"Your motive may be charitable but it is no excuse for dishonesty."

The lady looked amused but did not pursue the topic further. "I hope you will forgive me for speaking without a proper introduction, sir. I am not a fan of convention."

Rowan smiled.

An unmarried woman, not even of age, and already a heiress to a trade empire—by all accounts, she did not seem like one.

"I will, if you allow me to remedy the situation now." He bowed with exaggerated formality. "I am Mr. Rowan Whitethorn of Harcomb, in Doranelle."

Her cheek dimpled. "Miss Celaena Sardothein—my father—"

"Mr. Hamel, yes, I know." He almost cringed at how rude he sounded. "He and I, we are—"

"—business associates, yes, I know," she teased with an impish grin, replying in a poor imitation of his own deep voice.

Her eyes twinkled with amusement, filled with laughter and mirth—turquoise orbs, ringed with brilliant gold.

All of his resolve flew out of the window. "Miss Sardothein, will you allow me the pleasure of leading you into the first set? The dancing is about to commence."

"The pleasure will be all mine."

In hopes of starting a conversation, he said, "You are a fine dancer."

"I would have believed you to be a liar if we hadn't already established that deceit of any sort is your abhorrence."

He smiled. "And if I were being insincere?"

"I would take it as a compliment to myself, for it will mean that you are acting on my advice from earlier about lying for the sake of appearances."

They fell silent again.

"We must talk some, you know," said Rowan. "For someone who claims to be concerned with appearances, do you not think it would look odd for us to spend a half hour together but in silence."

She startled at the sudden statement. "Introduce a topic then and I will do my poor best to maintain the conversation."

Rowan complied and was pleasantly surprised to find her lively and good-humored and well-informed on most subject from current fashion disasters to books to political bills and movements. Her arguements were passionate and far from taking offense at his dry humor, she matched it with witty quips of her own; and to top it alll off, she was as skilled a dancer as a conversationalist.

Rowan was almost annoyed when the song came to an end. He could not recall the last time he had been half as well entertained.

"You will be the death of me, you foolish, foolish chit!" screeched the old matron.

Fenrys had allowed himself to be dragged into a bookstore, which happened to be one of his least favourite places, by his cousin, James—the second son to his uncle, Lord Rhoe, the Earl of Narrowcreek—and was now eager for any sort of amusement. He turned towards the high-pitched shriek with interest.

A young lady stood near the shelves, tall and proud, even in the face of her mother's ill-bred manners.

Her blonde hair fell down in waves, half pinned by dragonfly-shaped hair combs. The fabric of her dress was fine enough for her to belong to the first circles and yet, he could not recall seeing her—or her mother—anywhere.

"Ungrateful child! Wait until I tell your father what you did; he will be most displeased."

She bit her lip to contain her mirth, though her cheeks flushed with embarassment. Her eyes flitted to the door and back, as if she was looking for some escape.

"Poor girl," the bookshop owner murmured.

The following words had the unfortunate attention of drawing the mother's attention towards the owner.

Lord Fenrys almost laughed at the alarmed look on the owner's face when she began lamenting to him instead and then looked over at the lady who was staring at the door with a thoughtful look, as if wondering whether or not to attempt an escape.

She must have decided in it's favour because she gathered her skirts and made a mad dash towards the door.

Fenrys realised he was standing in her way and hastened to move but it was too late—

"Darn!" cried she.

The commotion drew her mother's attention and upon spotting her wayward daughter lying on the floor with a grimace, she rushed over with a whole new litany of complaints.

Fenrys could have sworn the lady cursed under her breath.

"Stubborn, stubborn child! I told you not to run off without me but oh, how you love vexing me," shouted her mother in her high-pitched voice. "And what are you doing, bothering this fine gentleman over here? You had better not to talk to anyone if you are determined to refuse them all. You broke that poor man's heart—"

Fenrys quirked an eyebrow in interest, looking thoroughly entertained.

Her cheeks flushed further.

He frowned.

Up close, her face looked awfully familiar. He searched his brain for an answer.

A memory flashed in front of his mind. A highly unconventional black dress, a tinkling laugh and a ballroom.

Realisation dawned.

"Miss Sardothein! Fancy seeing you here," said he. "I almost didn't recognise you because of the hair."

"The hair? Oh, yes, I am very fond of dyes, but you have caught me in my natural state."

"I find you lovelier than ever. If you will forgive me for prying, I could not help but observe you haven't bought a thing yet, even though I know you to be a great reader! Is the reading material not to your taste, Miss Sardothein?"

Celaena answered wryly, "As a matter of fact, the books here suit my tastes very well—It is only that I am not allowed to buy books for a month—as punishment."

"No books! And what awful crime did you commit to merit that?"

"I rejected a marriage offer."

"A capital offense!"

Celaena smiled, "Indeed."

"I hope you are appropriately ashamed of yourself!"

"Horrified at my own audacity, really."

The lady looked up at him and grinned; Fenrys' own face turned pale and his mouth fell open in surprise. Ashryver eyes! She had ashryver eyes—like James, Aedion, and their mothers Helen and Evalin and—gods. The little poem his cousins had made up in childhood came to the forefront of his mind.

"The fairest eyes, from legends old,

Of brightest blue, ringed with gold."

But how...?

He looked at the woman again: her eyes bright and mirthful and thick eyelashes resting on her cheek, the face tugged at his memory; and she smiled so impishly, he had seen that smile before—

"Aelin," he blurted out.

He was startled when her smile dropped and recognition flickered in her eyes.

Fenrys shot an alarmed look towards the shelf behind which James had disappeared. Aelin was here! But how could this be? His heart thumped loudly inside his chest.

"Aelin?" She inclined her head in question.

He smiled uncertainly.

Was she really his little cousin? Aelin had been five year old when he last saw her.

But if he was wrong about this, could this come to bite him in the ass? She was certainly as old as his cousin would have been, had she been alive and she had the same unruly blonde curls and those ashryver eyes, teeming with life.

It couldn't be...

Arobynn's adoptive daughter.

"Yes, Aelin was my favourite cousin—you, uh, you remind me of her."

"If she is your favourite, then I am inclined to take that as a compliment." Celaena—Aelin?—smiled again, though her eyebrows remained drawn still. "The name does sound familiar. Perhaps I would have heard of her in the newspaper? The society column is a great source of amusement to my father. He reads it aloud to us from time to time."

Father? He wondered if she was talking of Arobynn or Mrs. Rhunn's husband.

Fenrys smiled sadly. "That is not possible for you see, my cousin died when she was five."

At least I thought she died.

"I am sorry for your loss." Then, with an arch look on her face, she asked, "If she was like me as you say, she must have been delightful."

He chuckled. "An absolute troublemaker."

"Definitely like me then," said she, sparing a look towards her mother. "I should leave now, before my mother lists you off as yet another suitor!"

And before he could think to stop her, she curtsied and scurried off.

Fenrys stared at the door, somewhat dumbfounded. Aelin is alive. He marvelled at the thought and then wondered how on earth he would inform her family—James would be ecstatic and his father would have to be informed, and Edward would have to be called to London, gods. Edward!

Aelin had been missed by all but no one grieved her as the poor man had.

Edward would be ecstatic; everyone would.

Fenrys ran towards his cousin out of breath, who was still examining titles in one corner.

"Fenrys, god, slow down, man! Whatever happened? You look like you saw a ghost."

He blinked.

Then, without any attempt at tact or discretion, he blurted out: "Aelin is alive."

"Aelin, Aelin, stop that—no, look at your frock, mother will be so angry, no, Aelin! You will hurt yourself like that."

The man watched, concealed behind the ridge as a little girl skipped from one mud puddle to another, blonde curls bouncing up and down as she moved. Her elder brother followed at a more sedate place, calling out admonishments and threats, not that they had an effect on her.

Aelin grinned over her shoulder and ran, leading her brother on a merry chase.

The man was still debating how to go about abducting the girl when fortune smiled upon him; she twisted her leg and fell down, prompting the boy to run towards her.

"It hurts," she whimpered, refusing to stand.

The man smiled maliciously and waited as the boy looked around. "Very well," he said finally. "If you promise not to go anywhere, I will fetch papa. Do not move, Aelin."

The boy rushed towards the manor house, ignoring the twisted knots in his stomach and burst into his father's private study. In his panicked state of mind, it took a few attempts for Rhoe to make sense of his garbled words.

A foreboding feeling rose in his stomach.

She will be fine, he tried to reassure himself. Aelin, troublemaker that she was, had had a lot worse than a twisted ankle.

But his alarm grew the nearer they came to where she was supposed to be and his heart pounded inside his chest. All colour drained from his face when they didn't find Aelin where she was supposed to be.

"Are you certain this is where you left her?"

Edward nodded.

Rhoe suddenly felt dizzy, his knees buckled and bile rose up in his throat.

He reined himself in and with admirable composure, organised search parties to search around the estate and the neighbourhood.

The search carried on until late that night, when an express rider from the nearby magistrate arrived with a letter: a nearby warehouse had burned down earlier that day and two bodies were found: a man in his forties, who could not be identified and a seven year old girl who had on a silver anklet bearing the word fireheart and requested Mr. Galathynius' presence tomorrow at the warehouse to confirm the girl's identity.

Rhoe folded the letter, excused himself from company and sent his sons to their beds.

Then he entered his study: the study no one was allowed to enter without permission—except his Aelin—slumped into the armchair by the fireplace and wept.

note: ...and it's here. I have so many drafts of this chapter lying around, I'm surprised I actually finally posted it lmao.

@thesirenwashere // @courtofjurdan //@little-crow-corvere // @the-dark-swan-writes // @queenofgreenbriar // @clockworkgraystairs // @julemmaes // @mymultiversee // @queen-of-glass // @strangely-constructed-soul // @mijaldraws // @http-itsrebecca // @aesthetics-11 // @lord-douglas-the-third // @flowersinvegas // @cool-ish-nerd // @faerie-queen-fireheart // @sad-book-whore // @hizqueen4life // @booknerdproblems // @annejulianneh111 //@aelinfeyreeleven945tbln // @b00kworm // @mysweetvillain // @curlyredqueen06 // @curlyredqueen06 // @thesurielships // @witchling-leonor // @ladywitchling // @amren-courtofdreams // @ifinallygavein //@jlinez // @faequeenaelin // @df3ndyr // @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato // @superspiritfestival // @xx-fiona-xx // @stardelia // @maastrash // @miihlovesnoone // @sanakapoor // @abookishfreak // @maddymelv // @ireallyshouldsleeprn // @morganofthewildfire // @bellamyblakru // @theilliumbluebell10 // @jesstargaryenqueen // @woollycat22 // @chieflemming

if you'd like to be tagged, let me know.

[mxvladdy]

True Form- Leviathan

Here it is. Sorry for the delay! I hope you like it!

True Form- Leviathan 

In the celestial realm, he loved the waters and was gifted a body that was best suited for it from his father. It was beautiful, so sleek, shiny, and fast. When he was in the water even Mammon had trouble keeping up. But, the best part of it all was that some angels were envious of it. 

He was pretty close to Asmo during this time too. Asmo would help him dry brush his scales and moisturize the harder to reach areas across his body. In return when Levi would shed Asmo got to keep his pretty scales. From there Asmo would make makeup and jewelry from them. 

When he would visit the human realm with Lilith and Belphie they would play near any body of water that tickled their fancy to teased the mortals with his splendor. They would get a good laugh out of the stories of mermaids and great sea beasts that were created around him afterward. 

During the fall he was separated from the rest of the brothers. His unconscious body flung away from the pack to careen into the parts unknown while his brothers plummet into the Devildom. 

He comes to briefly to the feel of his blistered flayed skin hissing on impact by the cool ocean waters of the human realm. 

He slumbered for a long time down there. His body recovering from the war in the quiet. It adapted without him, working overtime to survive its new environment. His broken halo’s edges dull out, the deep trench’s currents buffering and polishing it down to horns. They grow out slowly into a large coral reef for the deep-sea inhabitants. 

The lack of light turns his skin a translucent grey color, the warm glow from the celestial realm leached from him. While his scales and hide turn dark and take on an oily sheen. Great clumps of basalt rock grow over the burns from tearing through the earth's atmosphere. The rapid heating and cooling of his skin formed iron-rich patches around his flaking scales. 

When he wakes he is distraught. His once illustrious serpentine tail and radiant body were now battered and stained in his eyes. He stays down there in the depths out of shame for a few more years. 

The rest of the changes to his body were of his own making. A grand mixture from the creatures that he observed around him. His bright celestial markings now took after the bioluminescent creatures that would flock around him. He grew his hair out, enchanting some strains to take after the jellyfish he ate. Absorbing their toxins to imbue into his hair and blood. 

He finds the fish with razor sharp teeth and large net-like mouths fascinating and takes after them too.  Once he is satisfied (and has pulled himself out of his little self-pity party) he moves from his den, traversing the ocean floor and migrating with some of the other larger sea beasts. 

The years of separation from his brothers did a number on his mental health and social skills. Being trapped under the water for so long healing has stunted that part of his physique. The years before his brothers found him have dulled his social skills with higher beings and humans. Making him antisocial as well as paranoid. 

His communication skills with sea life are much better. During his travels, he bested and then befriended many mythical creatures. But his greatest ally has to be the legendary sea beast Lotan.

The older beast taught Leviathan a lot about the human realm and what has changed over time. Took up a bit of a parental/ mentor role for Levithan. They settle together in the waters of the east sea. 

Leviathan was drawn to this particular patch of water because of the pretty boats, atakebune Lotan called them. For years he watched the coastal regions of China and Japan grow and prosper and more ships entered his territory. 

He became somewhat of a local legend. Sailors and warriors would bring him offerings of food, gold, people, and other valuables for safe passage through his waters or help in an upcoming naval battle. He sometimes helped but most of the time he just observed.

He did take great joy in battles. It was a great game for him. Something different from the boring year among the fish.  

Contrary to belief, he can’t control the weather or the seas but his massive body can create devastating waves and his control of sea life is deadly to sailors. His fishy friends eat well when he emerges for a battle. He keeps the bloated and rioting corpses of fallen soldiers. They feed his smaller friends and help him maintain his coral horns

His brother’s eventually find him and bring him to the Devildom after they hear rumors of a mischievous sea serpent.

Whether it was because of his old injuries or just all his time under the sea with a tail he doesn’t have great control in his bipedal form. Both his human and demonic form have a slight limp and no aptitude for physical activity. 100% has a pass to get out of P.E. 

Moving back in with the brothers really brought out his cardinal sin of envy. He used to be so close with them all and then he was separated for so long he feels like he will never catch up. Between their new forms (that he finds much more practical and prettier than his) and his inability to adjust to their new lifestyle, he cemented himself in his envy. He tucks himself away in his room and surrounds himself with distractions and stories. 

Diavolo gifted him his enchanted aquarium after hearing about his struggles to adapt from Lucifer. Levi was appreciative but will never say it. When he gets overwhelmed by life and his video games can’t distract from his racing thoughts he likes to go in for a swim and tend to his aquatic gardens.

Mini Fic

Warm water laps at your toes. The salt of it clinging to your feet in thin crusty layers. You wiggle them, washing away some of the grime and to propel yourself deeper into the water. You take joy in disrupting the mirror-like finish of the once still water. Smiling up at the giant sun lamp mounted over you, you adjust your sunglasses. 

Sunday lounge days were the best. Just you, a cold bottle of soda, and a new swimsuit. You missed the beach and waters of the human whelm but not the crowds. Ugh, screaming kids and impolite beach guests were the worst. This was the best alternative you could have imagined. Between the warmth of the heat lamp and the slow motions of the water underneath you, you felt the stress of the week slowly washing away.

Dipping your hands in the water you begin to push your floaty further away from the edge of the thick aquarium wall. The light blue water underneath you deepening to an emerald green when you reach the drop-off point of Levi’s tank. The water is cooler here, but still comfortable as most of your body is still dry and safely nestled in his oversized pool float. Little surface fish and aquatic animals swim by, splashing your floaty and nibbling at your toes gently in greeting. They all knew better than to actually bother you.  

Letting the gentle current of the water pumps push you around in lazy circles you pull out the manga Levi had bought you (magically coated to make it waterproof) and flip back to your last bookmark. Enjoying the peace and quiet you immerse yourself in his latest hyper fixation. 

A few chapters in and three empty soda bottles later you notice your idle turning had stopped. Leaving you at a complete standstill. The water around you was still. The little fishies that had been following you had disappeared to the devil knows when. Yet despite the sudden abandonment of your aquatic entourage you still felt a presence. The heavy aura of a predatory gaze makes the fine hairs of your neck stand on end. The self-preserving part of your mind kicking into fight or flight mode. Best to just ignore that for now...Peeking out from behind your sunglasses you lean over your floaty to see what had stopped you. A gargantuan milky white eye stares back up at you. 

When you had first been introduced to this side of Levi his pearly gaze had been so guarded. It had been by complete accident that you saw well- him. So that couldn’t have helped much with his confidence. You had come by to drop off a few handheld consoles that he had lent you to see if you would like one as a gift. You remember being by his desk trying to find a noncluttered space to put them all when the blue glow of his room was suddenly thrown into darkness.

That was the first time you had been face to face with The Leviathan. It was magnificent. Even your textbooks in your Introduction to Demonology didn’t do him justice. It was breathtaking and bone chilling all in one. You remember locking eyes with him and the both of you freezing. His reflexive gaze boring into you a mixture of betrayal and fear fighting for dominance. A wordless dare for you to scream or curse his appearance. They had been closed off to all your kind words and encouragements at the beginning. 

Now they are open and warm. If not a little mischievous. Scratch that-very mischievous. 

“Don’t you dare.” You warn with a dawning realization. “Levi!” You shout over the edge of your float after him. He sinks down without even making a ripple. The shadow of the beast's body turns the green waters black as he jets underneath you. The little flicks of bioluminescence on his hide blink in and out of focus as he moves. Distracted as you were leaning over the side you didn’t notice the slim tip of his tail rise from the other side. 

It happened quickly, a slight jerk on your ankle and then a shock of cold water. Coughing and sputtering you breach the surface. Floundering about blindly for your floaty, your hands rest on something thick and sturdy. He chitters and laughs at his little joke. “Ya-ya laugh it up.” You grip his tree trunk sized tail like a lifeline. He keeps still giving you time to blink the water out of your eyes. “Ok. You got me in the water now what?” 

HAvE- sUrpiEssss. Levi’s large mouth clicked clumsily over the syllables. His long thin teeth always made it hard to shape his words. It had taken some time and effort to get him to loosen up enough to talk. He was very self-conscious of the phlegmy- waterlogged sound of it. The years spent under the sea having permanently filled his lungs with briny saltwater. Each breath of air rattle deep in his barrel chest.  

Schooling your expression you shot him a scowl Lucifer would be proud of. “What, a mouthful of salt wasn’t enough?” He scoffs white eyes narrowing, seeing right through your false agitation. This wouldn’t be the first or the last time he got your attention like this and he knew you were fine with it. “Alright you oversized guppy, how far down is it?” 

Levi beams, wide mouth stretching to flash you his blood-stained fangs. His gills flaring up in excitement down his large neck and rib cage. Careful of his more toxic strands of hair and the abrasive patches of rock around his neck, you swim closer accepting help from his long pale fingers. Clutching onto his strong neck you give him a small thumbs up.

He dives into the water with practiced ease slowly descending to give your body and the magic protecting you time to acclimate. It was bone-chillingly at first, your whole body seizing as you are submerged. But soon the magic of your pact began to work warming you and making you able to breathe underneath the artificial currents. Eyes slowly adjusting to the lack of light you nestle into the crook of his neck for the remainder of the ride. 

He takes you to an underwater cave. The mouth hidden behind flowing purple and green water weeds. The entrance of the cave was like nothing you’ve seen before. Other caves in his habit were filled to the brim with coral and little crustaceans. Sometimes even an elusive mermaid or capricorn nursing injury. But this one was- empty. Warmer too as you swam deeper. The great sea beast dragging himself through the cave with his needle like claw above you. A defensive stance if ever you saw one. 

You catch his eye and raise a brow. Don’t worry- itss ssafe...I think. 

“Wait? You think?” You stop in your tracks only to have a massive hand nudge you along. He pushes you through the last of the tangled seaweed and kelp you look up into a- “nursery?” Levi smiles and nods twitchily. 

Do you like it? I’ve spent months getting this place ready. He leaves you to look around freely, instead slithering up to a slightly less floral. You gape turning slowly in circles to take in the beauty around you. The cove simmered with the lights from his heat lamp pushing through the cracks in the rocks from above. The yellow warmth makes it easier for the crazy amount of plants and sponges to thrive. But the vast majority of the light came from the jellies and fish that had probably never been seen by human eyes before floating around you. 

They were busy, grooming the anemones and rainbow colored corals, eating and pushing bits of waste away from large lilac colored eggs.  The larger of the sea creatures swim above you checking on some of the moving eggs completely ignoring you and Levi... “Are they-”

Sirens. Lotan found a broodmother and her clutch last winter. We thought they had been wiped out centuries ago. He chitters at one of the eggs and scratches at his coral horns. She needed a place to nest so we made a deal. Taking great care he pulls at a large clump of sargassum from the base and pats it into a bare patch of rock. You watch him with a growing smile as he pulls more plants and critters from his horns. Once satisfied he scoops up a few of the larger eggs below him and nestles them into their new home.

You peek over his shoulder to look into the nest. Hauntingly beautiful babies look back up at you. Cherub sweet faces follow you and Levi’s movements. Levi grins proudly as one of the girls stretches out in her small space. They should be hatching soon. With some prompting from Leviathan, you accepted an egg. The inhabited squirming and clawing at its elastic membrane. It looked too small for its leather confines. The baby siren opens her tiny mouth and screeches, little needle teeth biting and ripping at the egg.

“Should I help it?” You ask. She was squirming so hard it was a fight to keep her in your arms. Levi looks over and emits a little series of clicks and coos at the fussy babe. The babe stops wiggling as hard but begins to claw at a thinner part of the shell. He turns after that to tend to a few squirming eggs himself. His claws were much more helpful than your blunt human fingers. Well then... You wait until the little beast has punctured the shell itself before helping it widen the breech. 

Once freed the siren floats to the soft cave flooring. The kelp and anemones cushioning it, covering her body almost lovingly.  A swarm of little crabs and shrimp descend on it picking and eating away at the remaining goo and membrane clinging to the infant. She giggles at the tiny pinches and mouths nibbling at her tail and claws. With a squeal of delight, she crawled after them and began to devourer them. Blue and green blood coming up in clouds from her mouth. 

Levi laughs at your look of disgust momentarily distracted from freeing a few more babies. They will grow to bring the bodies of sailors to me for Diavolo’s navy. This is but practice. 

“Oh-” You blink down at the monster now enraptured with your toes. The mood changed quickly.

Oh no. Levi buries his face in his hands instantly regretting opening his big mouth. That’s gross, isn’t it? Of course, this whole thing is disgusting to a human. I should have never shown you, nobody likes this stuff. He coils in on himself sinking to the bottom, eggs forgot to his misery. 

“Now what a minute! I didn’t say that.” You sink down after him. “I don’t think it’s icky. Just another learning curve for us normies right? Honestly, this is kinda cool.” 

Really? He peeks out from behind his hair and fingers.

You grip his hands, struggling to pull them away from his face. “Yeah!” You beam. “I mean you built all this? It is beautiful. Totally reminds me of that anime you watched with me last month.” 

I think my roommate is a sea god and almost drowned my ex? He brightens tailing wagging. 

“Exactly! You’ve really outdone yourself this time. Plus think of all the cool names you can come up with for all these sirens.” His gills flare again with a shrill screech. 

Henry’s!

Ah- well maybe it would be better if someone else named them.

[hornime]

hq as my discovery weekly | part one

warnings: this is completely sfw, combo of fluff and angst

characters included: kenma, akaashi, oikawa, suna, koganegawa, ushijima, bokuto, kuroo, hinata, kita, terushima, iwaizumi, osamu, kageyama, sakusa

a/n: this was a random idea i thought of but i think it’ll be really cute haha. maybe you guys’ll find some new songs in the process! totally encourage anyone to use this idea if they want cus this was super fun to write!

playing... one through fifteen / sixteen through thirty

↪ “cotton candy lemonade" by blu detiger: kenma kozume

i've been up too long, something's wrong / watch the rising sun / turning all my nights to days

i've been on my own, come find me now / i'm lonely to the bone / but I don't feel so low when you're around / let's run away from home

you'll bе my kaleidoscope, my color in this life / watching thе world fade away

kenma is not the most extroverted and he’s in his head a lot, so he’s someone that might not always see the ‘color’ in things that exist around him. but when it comes to you, well, you’re someone that makes him look up from his screen a little longer than usual.

↪ “love affair” by umi: akaashi keiji

don't overthink this is love / maybe it's just a crush

i hope what I feel is enough / maybe this is just lies

i wanna know how to feel, what to feel, what's right / i never know / 'cause when it gets real, I just run away / and hide from you

akaashi gets anxiety. he used to be certain about a lot of things—his intelligence, his skill, his happiness, but most important to him was his feelings for you. he’s overthinking again, he knows it, but he’s getting an uncontrollable itch that maybe this is all in his head; he doesn’t love you, he just think he does. but when you’re in his arms, breathing even and eyes fluttered shut, he remembers what you always told him: it doesn’t matter what he knows, it matters what he feels. and he feels like the luckiest man alive.

↪ “coke” by iii addicts, danice: oikawa tooru

come closer, i been eyeing you from way over / so it's time i come for some closure

had to let her know that you could lick this / shake it up, it's gonna probably gon' bust

why, tell me why / why am i not satisfied / every time i cross that line / i feel it, i feel it

oikawa feels like tantalus: a man constantly reaching for a goal just out of reach, straining his muscles and screaming his voice hoarse just for a glimpse of an unattainable destiny. he’s desperate to get ahead, and while he may be running at top speed at all times, the finish line doesn’t seem to be getting any closer. his worst fear is that, some time he’ll slow his pace and look back and realize he hasn’t gotten very far at all.

↪ “baby powder” by jenevieve: suna rintaro

i'll put up with you babe / there's somethings I won't take / baby don't feel me false / yeah that turns me off

you're making me so high now / you're everything I'd ever want / you're keeping me so dry now / you're everything I'd never want uh

plastic on the floor but it ain't for me / ima go up to the place that i'd rather be

suna is straightforward. he won’t deal with your bullshit, and he learns that you won’t deal with his either, which makes you so appealing. when he starts letting more and more of you in, he feels you slipping through his fingers. you wanted to be friends, so you treat him as one. he doesn’t remember when he started wanting more.

↪ “chandelier (instrumental version)” by paquin: koganegawa kanji

instrumental so no lyrics lol

koganegawa is bubbly. he’s a bouncer: he bounces between social circles, bounces colors behind his eyes, and bounces back after adversity. he’s an amiable guy, and it’s landed him plenty of friends and opportunities, but best of all, it’s landed him you.

↪ “l-over” by u.s. girls: ushijima wakatoshi

my lover has no heart / magic moving blood around that body / he's cool to the touch / i don't see him much / but when I do, he does nothing for me

can you imagine trying to get / some satisfaction out of a stone?

spare me any talk of your future life / i don't know what I'll do without you

ushijima is stubborn. he’s deadset on achieving his goals for the future, and if you can’t work with them, you better work around them. you’re tired of how he grounds you; you thought it was a blessing at first, having a guy that knew what he wanted and would always act as a constant in your life, but you’ve started to see that he’s not a lighthouse anymore, he’s an anchor. he’s an anchor that’s chaining you to the ocean floor and will drown you if you, even for a second, stop kicking your legs to stay afloat.

↪ “magic!” by リアムMAZE1981: bokuto koutarou

and when you smile at me that way / well you can warm the coldest day / it's magic

and all i have to do is think of you / to make the music start to play / then i dance down the street / and the people I meet stop and say hey hey

and when you want me you just clap your hands / and I'll be with you right away / then we'll float on a breeze / while the leaves in the trees softly say hey hey / magic ways, my friend / you love the girl with magic ways and it's true / i might as well give in

bokuto is bright. he tramps around the world with the light of the sun illuminating his face. there is nothing in the universe that could ever drag him down, especially not with you around. you’ve cast some kind of spell on him, he’s sure of it, because your very presence makes him certain that he’s immortal. he must be, because when he’s with you, he’s withstanding the heat of a thousand suns that erases the darkness in every shadow, corner, and crevice of his life. 

↪ “i hope that u think of me” by pity party (girls club): kuroo tetsuro

i hope that you dream of me baby / nightmares are what dreams are baby i-i-i / i think I'm fallin' out of love

you tell me that it's easy to be / you tell me that it's easy to be with me but you lie-i-i / why do you lie all the time?

kuroo is focused. he takes note of everything when he’s working on a task, down to dotting the ‘i’s and crossing the ‘t’s. he often finds himself with tunnel vision, unable to think of anything but the current responsibility at the top of his every-growing to-do list. somewhere along the way, he lost track of you—must’ve loosened his grip on your hand and your fingers fell through empty space. he’d look for you, back in the void, but he’s busy. he keeps moving, unaware that you’ve turned back, walking in the opposite direction as him to find the life before him that you barely remember.

↪ “the leanover” by life without buildings: hinata shoyo

kiss me, break my mind, close the door / black steel, break my mind, close the door

if i lose you in the street / i say, i say, i say, i say, i say, i say / wassup, wassup with you? / wassup with your friends?

hinata is unfazed. he knows that, when things go bad, there’ll always be something there to right them. so when your paths diverge—maybe your schedules don’t work out, your dates get canceled, your nights home become more and more sparse—he’s not worried. not one bit. because at the end of the night, he knows that you’ll always find your way back to one another, and you’ll always greet him with open arms. and he’ll always do the same.

↪ “ladyfingers - edit” by funding secured: kita shinsuke

instrumental so no lyrics lol

kita is polished. he works hard during the day to be with you at night, dancing in little circles in the small kitchen of your shared home. he looks at you with fondness and appreciation, thanking his stars a million times over for granting him with someone like you. he’s a tree, stable in the harshest of gales, but even trees like to sway with the wind sometimes.

↪ “black madonna” by cage the elephant: terushima yuuji

makes no difference here, so let's be real / black madonna, my black flower / nowhere left to run, nowhere left to hide / you're not havin' fun, i think that you should ride

climb so high, don't hear a sound / don't you forget what goes around, comes around / climb so high, tell me how to feel

call me when you're ready to be real / black madonna, my hallelujah

terushima is hedonistic. he’s never concerned himself with thoughts of the future, or of the past, or of anything, really. all he can think about is making each moment as willing to be lived as possible. you, on the other hand, are practical, too practical in his opinion, and he wants you to let loose, lighten up a little bit. maybe in the long run, it won’t be the best idea to let him take you by the hand and on a midnight adventure, but you haven’t thought that far ahead yet. guess he’s already rubbing off on you.

↪ “mother nature’s bitch” by okay kaya: iwaizumi hajime

everybody / please give a warm welcome to / to this current mood

here i am / easy to please / here i am / okay with it

here i am / desperate for attention / here i am / being mother nature's bitch

iwaizumi is hardworking. he does the best he can with everything he tries; sometimes that amounts to something and sometimes it doesn’t. most times it doesn’t fulfill his expectations, as high as they are. when you’re around, his borderline hatred for himself disappears. when you’re there to tell him how great he’s doing, the tension in his shoulders dissipates. 

↪ “smithereens” by rasharn powell, ab001: miya osamu

found my power / and my brethren / in a tussle with the world itself

see if I’m david, you’re goliath / there’s some power in defiance / put my heart in a slingshot / we been cycling away for days

searching for freedom always / likeness of an orgasm been had / empty with a peace that just don’t last / petite mort, then born again

osamu is pioneering. he opened a small business and eventually branched out, managing chains of his restaurant across the nation. it may not be a flashy job, but it’s a solid one, and a draining one. there are days of back-to-back shifts, afternoons overwhelming catering orders, and nights spent sleeping over on a cot near the kitchen. when he dreams, curled up with the smell of onigri still lingering in the air, he can only think of ‘what if’ he’d chosen another path, a path with a more obvious end, a more obvious definition of glory. but he still wakes up at dawn, conquering his own corner of the sky, knowing that his life, while it may be small, is not insignificant.

↪ “must be” by lou phelps: kageyama tobio

must be the henny on the ice / must be the diamonds that I buy / might be the shit that I write / whatever a n**** do and say, that's what I like

i'm on the cloud as i walk the front door / that's a boost, that's true, that's loo

yeah, um, i'mma need my space / 'cause you's a bum-bum, can't be standing next to me, uh / forgive me for my sins / don't tell me this is wrong if it feels right

kageyama is cocky. he’s good at what he does, amazing, actually, and he sure as hell knows it. he’s surrounded by people that make him better, people that he makes better, and he can’t think of a place he’d rather be. he’s on his way to carve his way into the moon and he’s not going to tolerate anyone that wants to keep him on earth.

↪ “jealous” by eyedress: sakusa kiyoomi

you could have anyone you want / why would you want to be with me? / you know, I'm nothing special

don't tell me about your problems / if you're not trying to solve them / don't ask me for my help

sakusa is independent. he’s not one to see himself as part of someone else’s orbit, opting to act like a random rock, floating in space with no origin and no destination. he’s worried that, if he gets too close to you, he’ll end up getting drawn in by your gravity and either crash land or burn up. neither seems appealing, and the idea of a safe encounter hasn’t even crossed his mind, so he’s going to keep moving on an endless trek towards the stars.