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#i love this character enough to rotate them as they are and try and to dig into all their mental shit
gumy-shark · 5 months
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the worst thing about analyzing a character who is objectively in the wrong and sucks morally is when they’re a popular character and people think that my pointing out the character’s flaws means i hate them. like no i love them!!
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Currently finding backup for a theory on Fyodor's backstory + from where his motive to get rid of all ability users strives from.
My brainstorming already filled two sides of my notebook on that topic and I gotta say, his character is so complex it's amazing. Asagiri's way of writing characters is awesome.
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its-your-mind · 1 year
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ALWAYS rotating TAZ: Balance around in my brain like microwave but ESPECIALLY with the announcement of The Suffering Game graphic novel
The dope thing they can do (and are doing) with the graphic novel series is sprinkle in moments of foreshadowing and hints to the reader about what REALLY might be going on here, which is so cool and I’m a huge fan of it, especially when you’re telling a story in this form.
But what is REALLY FUCKING TASTY about Balance as a story is that none of the motherfuckers telling it had any clue what they were doing when they started
Gerblins is dick jokes and not knowing how dice work and making fun of each other for voices. LICHRALLY the scene where Taako grabs the Umbrastaff is immediately proceeded by Clint trying different voices for Merle while Justin begs him to stop, as Taako. Merle gets launched across the room cuz he failed his save, and now Taako has an umbrella. The scene moves on.
Griffin brought them up to the BOB, introduced them to the Director, and gave them memories of a war fought over nameless, lost, powerful but mysterious artifacts. The memory that Taako takes from it is the idea of soured cream (ya know, for his taco quest).
And then they’re off, on different adventures, making friends, saving lives, making more dick jokes, and Griffin is in the background, slowly building in the meta-plot, as all DMs do.
But this meta-plot was HUGE. It was ALL-CONSUMING. It completely changes everything we know about this world and these characters. It takes the moments of dick jokes, and arguments about character voices, and flirting with death, and adds a layer of tragedy and complexity that just wasn’t present the first time they told that story.
AND THAT’S WHY THIS STORY KICKS ASS. The vibe of the story changed as Tres Horny Boys grew closer and closer to remembering the lives they had lost, as Griffin upped the stakes, as people started dying. They still don’t know shit for most of The Suffering Game, but you absolutely could not have predicted the tone of that arc after just listening to Gerblins. It sounds like a completely different story. And so when the other shoe drops, when shit breaks bad, when it’s the end of the world… again, and they have to reclaim their Stolen Century���
It makes sense. The tone has shifted enough to accommodate that kind of change. The characters have grown (back) into themselves enough to make this work.
Because TAZ: Balance is a tragedy. But the tragedy happened before the podcast even started, and had been erased. So of course it started off with goofs and dildo jokes. Of course the three of them started being standoff-ish with each other and making light of every situation that should have had a lot more weight. They didn’t know what they had lost, and we, the audience, didn’t either. So it was easy to laugh and joke… until slowly, it wasn’t so much anymore.
Plenty of people have praised Griffin’s storytelling abilities, but I think the thing that was most impressive to me was how he took the disparate threads laid out behind the Boys on their adventures, and followed them backwards, into the story they had lost, and forwards, into the ending they earned. I fucking love that he settled on Istus as the deity to interact with them, because I don’t think there’s a better representation of the story Griffin was weaving behind the scenes of the arcs.
Story and Song wasn’t really an arc driven by dice rolls and role playing - but it wasn’t railroading either. Griffin took every story they had told, every happy ending they had fought for, and twined them around and through each other. The world was saved not because of a lucky nat 20 roll, but because every person they had helped through the story came out in force to fight beside them to save their world.
And so in the end, the Stolen Century was a tragedy. But The Adventure Zone: Balance was a story of hope, of family, of the power that just a few loveable doofuses can have when they move through the world, making friends and saving lives. So when the world was ending and they needed help, there were dozens of people waiting to hear the Story and the Song that would give them the push they needed to fight, and the hope they needed to win.
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mcmansionhell · 1 year
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dome sweet dome
As some of you may know, I have been going to language school for the last few months in order to learn the world's most widely spoken and useful language: Slovenian. At this point, my Slovenian is about as coherent as, well, a McMansion. In order to feel better about myself, I have sought out a McMansion that is worse than my cases and word-order. This house (in Naperville, IL, of course) does, in fact, make me feel better, but will probably make you feel worse:
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This Cheescake Factory house, built in 2005, boasts 5 bedrooms, 8.5 bathrooms and can be yours for the entirely reasonable sum of $3.5 million dollars. Also for some reason all the photos look like they are retouched with 2012-era Instagram filters.
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First of all, trying to visualize the floor plan of this house is like trying to rotate seven cubes individually in my mind's eye. Second, if you stand right beneath the hole in the ceiling you can get the approximate sensation of being a cartoon character who has just instantaneously fallen in love.
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Even if this was a relatively mundane McMansion it still would have made it into the rotation because of the creepy life-sized butler and maid. Would not want to run into them in the middle of the night.
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The mural is giving 1986 Laura Ashley or perhaps maybe the background they use for Cabbage Patch Kids packaging but the floor? The floor is giving Runescape texture.
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Have you ever seen so many real plants in your life? A veritable Eden.
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The overwhelming desire to push one of the chairs into the haunted jacuzzi...but in reality they probably put those chairs there to keep from accidentally falling into the tub at night.
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(elevator music starts playing)
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This is one of the all time [adjective] rooms of McMansion Hell. I personally am in love with it, though I don't think I understand it. Perhaps it is not meant to be understood.....,
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Continuing with the baseball theme, the guy in the painting looks how I feel after it's been raining in Ljubljana for two straight weeks. (Not ideal!!)
And finally:
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We love a house that has four unused balconies and also a sporting grounds that is large enough to build a whole second McMansion on top of. Everyone should so value their health.
Thank you for tuning into another edition of McMansion Hell. Be sure to check out the Patreon for the two bonus posts (a McMansion and the Good House) which both also go out today!
If you like this post and want more like it, support McMansion Hell on Patreon for as little as $1/month for access to great bonus content including a discord server, extra posts, and livestreams.
Not into recurring payments? Try the tip jar, because media work is especially recession-vulnerable.
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lushrue · 3 months
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hockeyteam!141 x figureskater!reader pt 3
thank you all a million times over for all your love on this series! comment to be added to the taglist and send some asks my way if you have a scenario that you wanna see these characters in, i eat it up!!
cw: drinking
part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8
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price stood at the center of the face-off circle, his stick resting on his knees as he sized up his opponent. it was the third period and the score was tied 2-2. price’s team was on the power play after the visiting team had received a two minute minor for slashing. figured, he thought. they’d been playing dirty all night; the ref just finally saw fit to call them on it. it was two minutes where they had the upper hand, two minutes to take advantage of their strength in numbers. he adjusted his stick in his grip, looking over his shoulder to make sure gaz and soap were in position before turning his attention back to the face off. he inhaled, and on the exhale, the sound of rubber smacking the ice hit his ears.
price gained control, taking the puck down the ice into the opposing team’s zone. he glanced to his left, meeting soap’s eyes before making a pass. soap received it, the puck smacking off his stick as he took up position on his side of the ice. a defenseman skated towards him, poised to try for a steal. but soap was ready. he made quick eye contact with gaz, sending the puck sliding his way. gaz took advantage of the fact that no one was on his ass, taking it and skating ever closer to the opposing goal. price was lined up, ready to go. it was the perfect position for a slapshot straight over the goal line. the goalie wasn’t watching his right flank, still preoccupied with gaz skating towards him. perfect. gaz made the pass, simon smacked the opposing defenseman into the boards to stop his approach, and price swung. the puck slid over the line before the goalie even knew what happened, setting the buzzer blaring.
through it all, you were watching in the stands. their coordination on the ice was enough to show you why they were first line, why laswell trusted them more than anyone else to get the game started on the right foot and to end it just as smoothly. you were one of the first on your feet after the goal, shouting and clapping. soap skated past price, giving him a congratulatory knock on the helmet as gaz held up his glove for a fist bump. simon gave price a thump on the back, skating behind him as they returned to the bench. “good shot, cap,” he shouted over the music, stepping off the ice as the second line stepped in to relieve them.
you smiled and waved as soap turned to meet your eyes. you’d taken to sitting right behind the bench, making your presence known to them rather than blending into the crowd like you’d done before. soap winked before nudging kyle, who tapped simon’s helmet, who elbowed price. soon, all four sets of eyes were on you. you blushed under the weight of their collective gazes, but managed to collect yourself enough to give them two thumbs up. price chuckled, nodding his head in thanks at your gesture. soap tugged his helmet off, the sweat making the longer strands of his mohawk stick to his forehead. “come out with us after tha game!” he called, his voice slightly muffled by the plexiglass. you didn’t even hesitate. “yeah, ‘course i will!”
it was a handy victory after that, simon managing to eke out a goal of his own before the game was over. this win would move them up in the league rankings, signal to everyone else that they’re a force to be reckoned with. with an ever-rotating roster of fresh blood, rebuilding years were bound to happen. but now they were on the rebound, and it felt better than any vice they indulged in. 
that wasn’t going to stop them tonight, though. the four of them stepped out of the locker room to find you waiting, your coat draped over your arms. your eyes were glued on your phone, a familiar crutch to pass the time. the moment you heard soap and gaz’s jovial chatter, your head snapped up, meeting the eyes of your victorious men. you flashed them a smile and a little wave, closing the distance between all of you. “that was a really good game tonight,” you said sincerely, your eyes flicking between the four of them. it wasn’t just a win for one of them, it was a win for all of them. you wanted to make sure they all felt properly congratulated.
“thanks, dove,” price replied, a smile of his own threatening to show through. usually, his mind was racing with thoughts of how they could improve, what they could’ve done better. but not tonight. tonight was for celebrating, and he wasn’t going to let his overactive mind get in the way of that. gaz chimed in, putting his hand on price’s shoulder. “well, it helped havin’ our good luck charm in the stands. didn’t it, cap?” his pointed glance settled on you as price chuckled, your cheeks flushing a pretty shade of pink. their good luck charm. how about that? “good point, kyle,” price said. the weight of their eyes boring into you threatened to overwhelm you, like the tide overtaking the shore.
thankfully, johnny’s scottish brogue broke the tension. “did’ja see my assist in the second period, bonnie?” he asked, shouldering past gaz to be closer to you. you couldn’t help but laugh a little, nodding at him as you clutched your coat a little closer to your body. “yeah, i did,” you reply. you also hadn’t missed the way he skated with more gusto after that, knowing that you’d seen him. “it was impressive. you all work so well together out there.” simon finally made his presence known, shifting on his feet beside price. “yeah, we’ve worked really hard to get ourselves there,” he said, sounding proud of the progress they'd made as a team. you notice kyle and johnny exchange a glance, but you can’t quite read it. there’s something there under the surface, something that goes beyond the game.
before you can spare it a second thought, price places his hand on your shoulder, guiding you out the doors of the ice rink. “c’mon, dove. we’ll take my truck.”
it’s around your third mixed drink that you start to get a little more comfortable.
they’ve paid for the last two rounds for you, indulging whatever fruity concoction you find yourself craving. they took you to the one good bar for miles where the air was free of stale cigarette smoke and depression. the five of them weren’t the rowdiest table by far, but they were holding their own. the boys carried on their own conversations in the background, chattering loudly about the game. as you sip at your vodka cranberry, your attention is on kyle’s phone screen as he swipes through pictures of his family. “and tha’s my brother, steven. he’s got a wife and kid. haven’t seen ‘im in a while, they live kinda far.” soap nudges him, causing his phone to nearly tumble into his pint of guinness. “don’ bore the poor lass,” he says, his words already starting to slur a little. johnny was drinking whiskey, which hit a little harder than the beers that his teammates were nursing. no wonder he was on his way to being three sheets to the wind.
you blush and shake your head, giving kyle a reassuring glance. “it’s not boring, i promise. i like getting to know you all. it’s what friends do, right?” friends. you hadn’t stopped to think about it before, but you supposed you’d fully entered friend territory with all of them. you’d come to watch them play multiple times now, and they’d come and watched you skate. not only that, they’d stayed for both your programs and stuck around when the final rankings were posted. mere acquaintances didn’t do that. 
your words seemed to strike some chord in each of them as the hum of their side conversations abruptly stopped. you caught price smirk over the rim of his glass as he took a swig of his drink, his posture confident with his shoulders back and chest forward. johnny looked at you like you’d hung the moon and stars just for him, but only for a moment. kyle’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly, like he hadn’t expected you to perceive them as friends. and simon, as usual, was hard to read, but you were getting there. there was a tightness in his expression that spelled unease to you. you faltered, opening your mouth to backtrack before price waved a hand to cut you off.
“nah, the bird’s right, johnny. guess we should know some things about each other if we’re gonna be friends.” his smirk remained, his eyes now fixed on you. maybe it was the alcohol talking, but you could swear you saw a glint of hunger in his eyes. you swallowed, desperate to ignore the electric thrill that struck your core. “why don’t you start us off, love? we wanna know more ‘bout ya,” he said, leaning back against the booth seating and staring you down expectantly. you clear your throat and take another long drink from your glass. you’d need some liquid courage for all this.
“well, i’ve been skating since i was little. i’ve loved it for as long as i can remember.” the memories brought a smile to your face. you recalled sitting in front of the television set, cross-legged as you watched the figure skaters dance on the ice in your ballerina dress. your dad sat next to you, telling you that that could be you someday. you certainly hadn’t competed in any olympics, but you were proud of the level you’d achieved. johnny chuckled, his hand coming to rest on your thigh. it sent a bloom of warmth through you and your cheeks flushed crimson. “somethin’ besides the ice, bonnie,” he said playfully. “we wanna know you, not the skater.”
you composed yourself quickly after being startled at his touch, settling into the casual display of affection. glances were once again exchanged, but this time, it was price and simon. “umm…my favorite color’s green,” you said, looking between johnny and kyle for approval, to see if this was what they wanted. when you got a nod in reply, you decided to continue. you told them about your favorite foods, family vacations, the artists that were on heavy rotation in your car radio. they seemed to hang on your every word, letting the aura of you seep into their bones so they’d never forget it.
the more you drank, the more you talked. so price kept the drinks flowing.
kyle drove you home in price’s truck, your swaying body sandwiched between ghost and soap. johnny had an arm around your shoulders to keep you steady and simon had his hand on your arm for comfort. you’d been drunker in your life, but you certainly had a good thing going. all this contact from attractive men was only fueling the fire, butterflies stirring in your belly that weren’t born of alcohol. you muttered things you knew you wouldn't remember in the morning, something about how warm their bodies were and how good they looked in their pads and gear. they were gentlemen, of course. their touches remained innocent as they walked you to your door and made sure you got in safely, staying until they heard the lock click. they had to be satisfied that you were secure for the night.
as the four of them piled back in the truck and headed back down the road, it was simon who broke the silence first. “we gotta have her, yeah?” he said, his voice a rumble that harmonized with the engine. kyle and johnny didn’t respond, looking to their captain for a response. ultimately, he made the final call. price hummed, his head falling back against the headrest of the passenger seat.
“yeah, think we do.”
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taglist: @cadotoast @jupiternighties @hxnneydew
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shalotttower · 3 months
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The Art of Disappearing (part 1)
Title: The Art of Disappearing Fandom: Resident Evil Village Characters: Lady Dimitrescu x Reader (female) Summary: Lady Dimitrescu enjoys wine; you enjoy living. You pray to god those don't overlap. Word count: 1800+ Notes: mentions of death, implied torture and violence, NSFWish, WINE Part 2
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Hiding in plain sight is a skill honed by necessity here.
Melt seamlessly into the decor of drapes and velvet curtains until you're indistinguishable from them. Become wallpaper with eyes that stare and mouths that don't open, and arms that only pick, and pass, and scrub, and fold.
You're not the girl who was locked in the cellar last week.
You're not the girl who dropped a plate yesterday.
You're not the girl whose blood got so deep into the dining room rug that it's better off being burned.
You want to say that you won't be that girl, but you can't promise anything anymore except that dinner is at 6 o'clock every evening unless stated otherwise by Lady Dimitrescu. Your schedule revolves around hers entirely, like planets rotating around their dying sun, even if it's not your shift. There's no such thing as a day off in the castle.
But there're such things as a quiet day, or a normal day, or a bad one.
Today is a bad one.
Lady Dimitrescu's favourite lipstick is missing.
It's a very rare, expensive shade, like the red shell of a ladybug, or the last breath of a maiden. Your ears pick up the word being murmured from one maid to another — 'if anyone sees the item, return it to the Lady's vanity immediately'.
You hope that someone finds it soon. Nobody here is dumb enough to steal, so it's probably forgotten somewhere. But you don't say it of course, because Her Ladyship doesn't forget anything and you still need your tongue intact.
---
Lady Dimitrescu likes wine; you enjoy living.
You pray that the two never overlap.
So far luck has been on your side — for six months now you've been working in the castle. You've cleaned stains from carpets and floors without asking what they are (because it was clear even without questions); polished silverware until you could see yourself reflected in them and arranged flowers countless times to learn which ones Lady favors over others.
You were a mouth that didn't speak and eyes that saw nothing. A piece of furniture with legs and arms.
As long as you do your job and keep a low profile, you're safe. Humans thrive in delusion, and so do you. It keeps you sane, what an oxymoron that is.
---
At three in the afternoon, you clean the bathrooms.
Bela is the neatest among the three, and Cassandra leaves everything scattered around for maids like you to collect and place where it's supposed to be. Daniela is... unique. You're not sure how she manages to get stains and fingerprints on such random surfaces. Sometimes you wonder if she does it on purpose.
Daniela loves fun surprises.
Like sneaking up on you when you're on your knees, scrubbing the tub. She pokes your shoulder. "Hiya."
Your heart drops into your stomach.
"Lady Daniela," you greet while trying not to let your hands shake under the apron.
She's smiling sweetly today, like she didn't just scare ten years out of you. You're not fooled and know better than to trust that expression. Nothing in this castle is innocent and saccharine and nice. Especially not the daughters.
"Can I help you with anything, my lady?"
Please say "no" and leave.
Daniela rocks on her heels then leans forward, inspecting your work.
"Maybe. Maybe not."
She's bored, you realize. Great. Bored means unpredictable behavior, and unpredictable behavior means trouble for everyone else who isn't Daniela herself. You wait for whatever she wants — entertainment? food? — patiently despite the churning in your gut.
"I'm bored," she announces.
"Yes, my lady."
"Let's play a game. Hide and seek, like little ones."
Six months have yet to make the instinctive urge to flee within you die out whenever one of them wants something from you directly. You'd think that this whole time might've increased your chances of survival, but humans thrive in delusion. In reality, everything is a gamble here. An embroidery of chance and circumstances that determines if you will live another day, that's all.
"I would be honored, my lady."
The bathrooms must be finished by five, and it's almost four. You're not going to make it on time.
"Who is going to hide first?" You ask after a moment.
Daniela claps. "Well you, of course, silly!"
Of course.
---
Hiding in plain sight is a skill honed by necessity here. Melting seamlessly into the decor of drapes and velvet curtains.
But you're not a vase or a coat rack. You're just a girl who's been in the castle for a while and has gotten good at being invisible. You can't hide your heart beat. Your scent and the warmth of your skin are impossible to erase.
"Ready or not, here I come!" Daniela's sing-song voice carries from the other end of the west wing, and then fades.
She didn't count to ten. You know because you've been counting along, just to have an idea of how much time there's left until she finds you. There're no harbored hopes about the opposite happening. Hide and seek is one of Daniela's favourite games, and she dedicates herself to it thoroughly, with great interest.
It's not about winning the game — that much you realized early on when she played against other maids, plucking one out and chasing her around the castle before dissolving into flies with a cackle.
It's about the entertainment good enough to satiate her.
You're not the most agile, not the fastest. Even after six months your knowledge of the castle's layout is patchy, but you try to think logically. What places will she check last? What will Daniela expect you to choose?
Closets are off limits. So is the library, unless you want Bela on your tail as well.
Your mind wanders.
There're so many rooms in this castle that you haven't seen once during all of your shifts. You're always cleaning hallways, sometimes the daughters' parlors, and nothing more.
Down the stairs, past the servant quarters, is a place where rumors are born. Of thick barrels stacked to the ceiling like dominoes and wine in various stages of production. It smells sour-sweet down there — like fruit rotting in August.
Wine that never runs out in Dimitrescu castle as long as there're maids.
That's what others say, at least. Nobody has come back to confirm.
Would she look in the cellar? Would anyone?
It's the last place you'd search if you were looking for someone insignificant and replaceable.
You take off your shoes so that your steps don't echo in the expanse of marble and stairs.
---
There're all kinds of things down here. Broken furniture that's been tossed aside for disposal, boxes and crates of unidentified items, old paintings of people you don't recognize.
And wine.
A lot of it in barrels and bottles, some of which are labeled, some aren't. You walk past them, following the corridors of dusty brick. The air smells like mold and fermentation, damp. It reminds you of the lakeside by your grandmother's cottage in summertime and you feel strangely nostalgic.
You miss home.
The thought is dangerous and you quickly push it away, back to where it belongs — in your memories. Home doesn't exist anymore.
Time passes. Minutes go by without the sounds of buzzing swarms or doors creaking open somewhere nearby. No voices either, except for your own breathing and heartbeat that fill up every corner of silence. You find a nook between the stacked barrels and settle there with your knees pulled to your chest.
The place is colder, uncomfortably so. Cool ground sends its chill through your stockings.
You've done everything you could. Found a good hiding spot, a perfect one, and it's out of your control from here on.
The art of disappearing is simple: be nothing and wait until time decides if you're worth staying like that or not.
---
Daniela finds you after your legs start to numb from sitting.
"Found you," she grins from ear to ear.
Her flies settle as she solidifies into flesh with a giggle, girlish and mischievous. It could be cute if not the bloody smudges around her mouth and chin. She crouches down in front of you, close enough for you to see the specks of gold in her eyes.
"Congratulations, Lady Daniela."
Your fingers dig into your skirts.
Daniela tilts her head; a fly crawls on her cheek before taking off. "I win! I get my prize now."
You didn't know you were playing for a prize. But nobody tells you anything in this castle until it's too late, like that you're not supposed to open windows in winter, or that you can't touch Daniela's books because she has them organized alphabetically.
"What would you like, my lady?"
Another fly lands on your lips, a thick creature with translucent wings and little fuzzy legs. They tickle but you resist the urge to make a face lest she takes it as an insult. At your question her expression turns impish, one of those you never fail to associate with trouble.
She reaches into your apron's pocket... and pulls out a lipstick.
You stare at it — a simple elegant tube with a golden cap.
"Look what I found!" Daniela waves it in front of your face like it's a toy.
Your blood freezes over. How did it end up there? You've been working for hours today yet you don't recall ever picking it up off anywhere. Where-
"My lady, I didn't take it!" you blurt out in horror, when it dawns on you. "I swear, I wouldn't! I would never-"
Daniela blinks owlishly and then breaks into laughter, clutching her stomach. Her smile is so wide that you can see her gums stained with coagulated blood which makes your stomach turn. The flies swarm and dissipate around you both, disturbed by her unrestrained mirth.
"Silly," she interrupts your stammering. "I know! You should've seen your face!"
Oh thank god.
You're so relieved that for a second all air leaves your lungs.
"...you tricked me?" you ask quietly after a moment, a bit more composed now when the accusation of theft doesn't hang over your head.
"Mhm," Daniela nods and wipes tears from her eyes, still giggling.
You're not sure if it was funny to anyone except her.
Her smile lessens gradually and eventually vanishes from her lips altogether when the initial amusement wears off. Something coy appears in her demeanor, sheepish even, as she fiddles with the lipstick in silence.
"Can you put it back in mother's vanity?" she grabs your hand suddenly and places it into your palm.
That's when you realize that you never even once questioned where she got it from. But Daniela gives you a pout with a warning look, like she's able to tell exactly what you're thinking. All questions die instantly on your tongue; you nod.
"Yes, my lady. Of course."
"Good," she pats your knee. "Don't forget! Or I'll eat you."
Flies descend onto your skirt, buzzing around Daniela's fingers until she disappears into dozens of black insects.
You know that she meant every word.
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cloveroctobers · 1 month
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RODEO — Javi Rivera.
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A/N: got the chance to see twisters on my birthday and it ofc inspired me to finally write something for Anthony lol. This isn’t going to be anything big since I still want to be on break until late September early October. Am I going to give Javi the love his deserves or am I going to be messy? What type of summer is it? A brat girl summer…whatever that means 😉
WARNINGS: language + stepping out of relationships, mentions of another character from challengers, reader and Kate don’t get along, mentions of minor smut/sexual relations, and ended up different than I originally planned. Enjoy!
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚
A text on short notice never bothered you.
Granted you had to take a ride from Brooklyn to Manhattan but majority of the time Javi was considerate, letting you know when he was going to be on your new side of town—you were a South Carolina native—and the both of you would make it work. He had this experiment that he worked on with his old friend Kate that actually proved to work this time and with some other guy that had the widest laughter lines you’ve ever seen. A classic cowboy—you deemed him as—that looked awfully familiar when you met him in passing at a dinner you didn’t know you were “imposing” in on.
Kate’s words not Javi or the cowboy’s.
The trio were going back and forth to the city, mostly Kate and the cowboy you learned to be named Tyler but once Javi learned you were in the city too? (Apparently Kate found a home in New York also, working in Mahattan after what went down in Oklahoma five years ago.) He had no problem trying to get to you. You learned that Kate didn’t approve of what you two had going on (Javi let it slip one night as he smacked on some chips and you sipping on some terribly made Kombucha around the outside of the usual meet up spot once he touched down in NY), considering that you were engaged to someone else and that someone was slowly rising in the public eye, Patrick Zweig…you may or may not know him.
Tyler did.
To keep it short, this wouldn’t be the first time that you didn’t give a fuck about what Kate Carter had to say about you. Back in college the both of you tried to get along but it’s just the common case of two people not being able to mesh well. You didn’t appreciate how Kate always felt like she was right, sure the girl was crazy intelligent but she didn’t enjoy your sarcasm or want to listen to your opinions on anything, she found your lack of drive for storm chasing to be confusing on why you bothered to hang out with the group when that was their sole connection, and didn’t understand the relationship you had with her boyfriend, Jeb who was actually your friend first and you were the one who introduced them at a party—it was childish sure but even years later you didn’t need her judgment.
Which is why you and Javi were always discreet. Moments with your college friend in the present never felt like enough but reminded you that you often wondered what it would have been like if you had a different ring on your finger given to you by someone else. Javi always made it his mission to take it right off, slamming it in the drawer beside the bed before interlocking his fingers right with yours as he rocked you into the temporary mattress.
That never lasted long since you loved to be on top. Just ask Tyra’s problematic self! And who was Javi to say no, having you above him like this? like the true goddess that loved to be in control, you never left his mind, even when he struggled to keep his eyes open at the rotation of your hips. His fingertips would leave bruises but you never complained, you liked him leaving marks. Javi felt like this should be wrong, of course he cared about you, maybe even more than that, always did but he had his head turned in a different direction once upon a time. He wasn’t sure if your feelings were genuine or just something to pass the time but he was the first person you told that you didn’t want to marry Patrick after accepting his proposal.
People pleasing was never something that you often did so why were you settling for a man who was fucking around with not only his ex but some strangers on tinder? Javi did his research on your fiancé, some tennis athlete that didn’t have the best stats which was odd since it seemed like he was in his prime in college, Javi would give him credit on that, it was evident that this Patrick guy knew how to play yet something was missing in his gameplay. It was also safe to say that Javi didn’t think Patrick was even your type to be honest…but maybe you had other people in your head too much about where you should be in life.
When it was time to have those deep conversations, like you were nineteen again, present you didn’t want to hear it majority of the time with your fingers in his curls and another hand feeling a part of Javi that was always ready for you. Javi always cursed himself for folding every time you got your hands on him, he wanted to know what was going to become of this relationship but he couldn’t help it.
A piece of your heart was okay for a little while.
There was something about you that he never wanted to let go. You weren’t with the crew when that tornado touched down in Oklahoma that day, you got into an argument with Jeb that day for putting you on the back burner for their project, and as usual Javi checked in on you the best that he could since he was also part of the experiment. You brushed it off like you always did, tired of being the main one to put your frustrations out there; since you were basically the black sheep to the group and clocked into your shitty part time job with Javi promising that he would come check you out once they were done out there. The aftermath of it all also whipped through the friendship that was once there. There was tension no doubt, misdirected anger of course, your unresolved feelings for Jeb, Javi wishing he could have been at two places at once—as if he could have saved his friends from something so destructive with just his two hands. Kate became a ghost, you actually didnt have much to say to her like you thought you would, she was a walking frostbite, with a limp so prominent, disconnected, and leaving a numbing coldness trail behind her everywhere she went the longer she stayed in Oklahoma. It was sad because you knew she had to witness it all and that would forever haunt her.
Unfortunately that bitterness gave you joy. Javi dropped out of college but you kept at it, to distract you from the what if’s along with the great loss and when he thought the military was his best option, you tried to beg him to stay with a kiss that wasn’t the answer to your shared pain. He’s done the dissociating shit before as a way of grieving, he just hoped that you being with him now wasn’t your way of escaping whatever you were still running from.
Storm chasing wasn’t really your thing, don’t think you didnt try but Kinesiology and bull riding was more of your passion. Javi liked to trace and kiss those scars on your body because of that old hobby when you allowed him to hold you afterwards but he had them memorized just like you with his freckles. Yet you still kept coming around which really confused Kate but you got along with everyone else for the most part. The dance parties and stick and poke tattoos with Addy, the 150 questions the hypochondriac Praveen had for you about body horror stories he caught himself reading and watching! And wanting to know what proper care he would have (as if you were suddenly a doctor and not a kinesiology major) to take if that ever happened to him—getting struck by lighting wasn’t enough to get him to stop storm chasing but it was his life and he lived it how he wanted, and then there was Jeb. You used to be able to catch each other’s eyes from across the room and send each other ridiculous facial expressions before carrying on and eventually finding each other later. The shift in your friendship changed once you got left outside of the team. You began to connect with party-man Javi once Jeb started to slip away and build something more with Kate.
It’s always funny how that works out in friend groups isn’t it?
Coming in sync was always something you made your priority. Knowing Javi’s ticks and studying not only his face but his body always made you kick it up a notch, just crossing a boundary that you knew he would try to tap out but you proved to know his body better than he did himself and Javi honestly wanted to hate you for it but couldn’t.
He didn’t think anybody could lock you down—not even your fiancé—and it was something he always thought of when you put your back to him and let him to hold you while you briefly checked your phone.
No new messages from the Fiancé!
Javi peeped.
This Patrick guy didn’t give a fuck about you, just liked having a place to rest his head in instead of his car that you probably paid majority of the rent on. That’s right, Javi always remembered your blabbering once you had too many aperol spritz and what seemed to open you up more on a personal level lately.
“Want something from the café downstairs?” You asked, turning your phone face down to peek back at Javi who was still panting.
Javi slowly blinked, lifting his head in search of the alarm clock to find out what time it is.
[1:40 am]
You were making it your mission to try everything at least once on the menu every time Javi flew in. It was your usual hotel with a delicious café and you just about finished everything on the lunch and dinner menu except for two items that didn’t seem that appetizing to you. This time around you snuck up behind Javi and his laptop while he was downstairs about to dig into one of the dinners he wouldn’t share with you at one of the high rise tables…you were onto the breakfast menu.
He slips his free arm to caress the bone by your ear, “I want you.”
You snort, “I’ll give you another round when you can handle it, preferably in the shower since I’m meeting the girls at 8 for hot yoga. Breakfast can come as early as 6.”
The freckled face man fought the urge to roll his eyes at this. Since when the hell were into hot yoga of all things? The rough around the edges person seemed to be morphed into something else but Javi knew you were still in there somewhere. Don’t get him wrong, Yeah people grow and you’re into what you want to be into but he would have never guessed you hanging out doing yoga or brunch or even having a routine. Maybe axe throwing but he guessed he better be thankful for the yoga since you seemed to be more flexible every time the both of you tried a new position.
Javi tossed in, “is your bitch of a soon to be husband, Patrick joining in on that session?”
You quirk up a brow at this energy but don’t work to defend him, “…never mix business with pleasure.”
Which meant that you never brought multiple parties into your relationship together. He did his thing and you did yours. Patrick was never faithful to you, you knew it and Javi knew it too, you couldn’t be upset about it because you never truly wanted to marry him. There was no wedding date set because frankly the both of you were still young and trying to figure it out. It was selfish since you were still holding out hope that Patrick will actually make something of himself but you both weren’t sure if you even liked each other besides having nightcaps or getting people off your backs when you were seen together. The both of you were lonely, him more than you—if you wanted to make it a competition but it’s what worked and it didn’t need to make sense. It just made Patrick’s family (who were a lot to handle and always kept referring to two of his exes before you in front of you) happy that he had a “stable” person in his life for once and it got your parents off your back—some—but not without their own sly comments.
“Is that what your relationship is?”
You shrug, “yeah.”
“And what about us?”
You turn your face away to reach for the card, “i think you’ll like the BLT French toast or even the prosciutto toast—
He nudges your face back to meet his sunlit honey eyes and there wasn’t an ounce of humor in them. “Listen, I’m serious. We got too much history to keep downplayin’ this. I’m moving back to Miami by the end of the summer and I just want to know how much longer we’re gonna keep doing this. Is this only just sex for you or what?”
Javi’s thumb burns into your skin now and his stare is sharp. You try not to get lost in his eyes and the tightness in your chest isn’t the most pleasant. You’re scared and have been scared before with Jeb but there’s no risk without action. Or whatever it is they say.
“…if you’re in love with me, just say that.”
Javi blinks, “What I know is that you won’t be marrying Patrick Twig—
“That’s not—
“I’m not done.”
Javi ignores the tilt of your head at his command, “You’re better than this and I know you see that when you look in the mirror. Maybe you didn’t fully heal yet and that’s not me tryin’ to disrespect you or nothing but I’m just callin’ it like I see it. I could give you the world besides just this or shit, as least try to but only if that’s what you want because I know what you need and it definitely ain’t a bozo who can’t even take care of what he thinks is his.”
You can always count on Javier Rivera to tell you exactly how it is. He was on your case about your feelings for Jeb just like you were with his with Kate but that all changed once the two started dating. It would have made sense for the both of you to gravitate towards each other then but the need to compensate for what you both missed out on wasnt fulfilling that void with forced love. It was platonic then but what was it now?
“…Do you think I’m yours?”
Javi puffs out a breath at this, “respectfully, imma need you to stop answering me with questions and just be honest with yourself and me. I don’t know how much longer I can keep holding out.”
“But you don’t, not unless I say so anyways.” You wink reaching to caress the back of his shoulder blade but Javi isn’t budging, which makes you sigh, “…okay fine. I hear you, you don’t want to be in a situationship with me anymore.”
Javi nods and awaits for you to say more but the glazed over look in your eyes, tells him that you’re trying to get out of this and he won’t lie, it stings.
“Here’s the thing,” you start with an intake of breath, “you’re right, I’m probably never going to marry Patrick. We’re equally each other’s placeholders, as fucked up as it sounds it’s true. As for this…”
Javier swallows the lump in his throat, just waiting on you to break his heart.
“You’re not the first person to pull this. It’s not my first rodeo…and no that doesn’t mean I’ve been with anyone else outside of you. I wouldn’t do that, not to you. You’re too important.” You admit, “and if we’re gonna do this…I just need you to be patient with me.”
A grin splits onto Javi’s face then, “so that does mean you love me?!”
“…I didn’t say all that.”
He smooches your cheek multiple times that makes your nose crinkle, “you didn’t have to, I can just tell.”
“How?” You ask as he rests his head back on the cloud-like pillow beside yours.
Javi hums, “I’m real in touch with my feminine side you know? Raised by my mom and aunties, got a sister that really wants to meet you—
“Huh? What?”
“Baby steps though,” Javi promises seeing the smidge of panic in your eyes, “I just need more confirmation that you’re going to try this with me. And that you’re not gonna run away since that is kinda what we all do.”
It was your turn to be vulnerable like Javi knew you could be. So you turn to face Javi, face to face and take a moment. “…I can’t say that I’m not scared and not of you but just the idea of actually being loved more than the intimacy and I’m sure you’re more than capable of giving that to me…it’s just that I get in my head a lot.”
Javi nods, “well it’s okay to be scared…Rome wasnt built in a day. We’ve been diligent—
“What if this doesn’t work—
“Nah, we’re not gonna back out when we just started.” Javi slips his hands down to clasp your hands in his, “We keep going, we love, we share—
“Just like your sandwich last night?”
Javi snorts, “we’re all works in progress, don’t hold that against me, baby.” He pecks your hands while you laugh a little, “we do what feels right and I got to ask, does this feel right to you as it does for me?”
You press your forehead against his, “every time I’m with you it does…as much as I try to block you out when we’re away from each other…I can’t. I wont.”
Javi pulls back to kiss your forehead, “bet. Feelings mutual and i just needed to hear you say it so…now that we’re on the same page…go ahead and order me that prosciutto and meet me in the shower.”
He’s kicking the covers back as you sit up on your elbow, “I’m not debating over which asscheek of yours is bigger than the other again.”
Javi sucks his teeth as leans against the doorway of sliding bathroom door in all his naked glory, “you pointed that out, I just wanted to know if the freckles on my left asscheek were also shaped like a palm tree like the ones on my chest.”
Scrunching up your nose, you hold your hand up in the air as if that defense was any better. Javi’s laughter suddenly turns dark as he takes in your appearance and slowly steps back as something stands to your attention.
“So…you joinin’ me or are you just going to continue watching the show?” He points behind himself, slowly stepping back.
Sighing you fold your arms back behind you, “ah…I’ll think about it finster.”
Javi sucks his teeth, stomping right back into the room to yank the tight hotel sheets back from the bed making you hiss at the coolness of the AC. “No way you just compared me to a rugrat.”
He pulls you right into his arms, limbs locking around him easily as you toy with the ends of his curls as he spins you around to lead you right into the bathroom, “did I?” You tease, bumping your nose against his before pulling back, “wait! You didn’t let me order.”
“Guess we’re skipping breakfast now and you might be late to yoga, sorry not sorry.” He mutters before slamming his lips right against yours.
Your thighs alone clench right around his hips as Javi slips his tongue along the shape of your lips while feeling around for the shower latch.
This time around, as sure as you are of the racing of your heart, you’re willing to let Javi lead this round…for now.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚
read more twisters anthology fics here.
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sanctus-ingenium · 11 months
Note
Just wanted to ask, please forgive me if you've already answred this, what program do you use? Your art fucks HARD and like. I was looking at your art of the two moths over the city they die in and I was hit with the wave of "oh that looks really fucking fun actually." Like i know my art program can't do some of those effects and like, I'd love to try fucking about with them.
hi there, thank you! all my art is done in procreate and paint tool sai
because you mentioned that drawing in particular i thought it would be fun to break it down and show ppl what exactly went into each part of it so check this out
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sketch & lineart - the brushes come from georgbrush.club and the urban sketcher is my most commonly used lineart brush, it has a nice irregular shape. the square brush is nice for big blocky sketches.
the cityscape was REALLY hard but basically I got a photo of the skyline of florence, traced some basic building shapes, then bullshitted the rest using the vertical symmetry/mirror tool to cut down on the amount of work (so i only had to sketch one half of the city). then for lineart I turned off vertical symmetry, turned on the two-point perspective tool, and got this:
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the rose windows were made using the radial symmetry tool.
I didn't like it being so flat, so I used the liquify tool to make a kind of fish-eye effect (limited success tbh). I liked how it looked but the buildings in front needed something to cover them up to make the liquification less obvious...
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first pass colours. I felt they were very washed out, aside from the sun which i loved. I use the spectra brush (default procreate) for skyscapes a lot, I love the texture. Although the clouds were filled in using the lasso selection tool, I softened the edges using the square pencil again and added texture using true grit sampler grainy brushes. The translucency effect comes from my setting the brush as an eraser. The sun rays come from the radial symmetry tool.
Blocking in the moths' colours was done with the urban sketcher again.
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Something people may not have noticed is the labyrinth hidden in the sky! yeah I had a bunch of versions where it was more obvious but I found that it clashed a bit and was too busy, so I made it subtle. But yes. I searched for "royalty free labyrinth" and picked one.
The toner grit brush is one you've seen before if you've looked at any art on tumblr lately (this is such a popular brush) and it's from the true grit fast grit set. The pointillism brush is from the true grit free sampler pack, like my grain brushes.
I added shadows to the moths, increased saturation overall, and changed the clouds to a translucent blue (you can even see in the sun where I forgot to block in the sun itself because the clouds over it used to be opaque lol). Moon rays were drawn using the radial symmetry tool but this time with rotational symmetry off. I also moved the moon down closer to the moths because I felt that it was a bit far away, and this served to visually divide the drawing into three equal parts, so I chose to lean into that and divide the sky colours too, to show passing time, or an endless moment - morning, evening, night, etc.
And then the oroborous, I tried a few different effects on it because I wanted it to be very clearly separate from the main scene - I settled on a dot matrix newsprint texture, using procreate's onboard tool, and some heavy chromatic aberration. This is because the oroborous isn't real, it's purely symbolic and the moths' demise started when they became photographers so I liked the print media aspect there as well. The story itself is about grief without closure, cyclical violence, and sunk cost fallacy, while everyone explores an endless labyrinth, so an oroborous fits I think
what makes art fun to me is thinking up ways I can tell a story using just a single image. and sure a lot of it will be lost to an audience who isn't familiar with the characters or backstory but i want to leave enough in there that even complete strangers to my work will be able to construct a narrative about what's happening here, rather than it just being a cool image. that's my goal.
Finally I exported it to sai on my pc to give it a once-over. this is really important because the retina display on an ipad is oversaturated on purpose, to make everything look amazing and vibrant. but what this means is that on other screens, your work might look washed out. it's especially bad at displaying yellows! so i look at it in sai on my pc and i make minor adjustments, in this case I actually added another multiply layer on the moths and an overlay on their non-shadowed parts to increase the contrast there.
finally if you've read this far, I played a little trick with the caption of the drawing. yeah, THEY die... but only one of those moths is a theythem pronoun haver... the other has to survive. he isn't given a choice in the matter.
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sl-vega · 3 months
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Hi there! Recently stumbled upon your Hiori piece (I Don’t Know Much, But I Know I Want You) and Oh. My. Gosh. It’s amazing!! The story was so cute and I also love the little Karasu interactions you threw in; it matches their characters so well and it’s so well written! If you ever feel motivated or inspired to do so, I’d love to see where you’d take the piece in a part 2! No pressure of course, I just think that seeing how they’d interact in your writing would be really awesome. Currently on my way to binge read every other work of yours; I love your writing style o7
Thanks for reading my ask and have a lovely day!! :)
˚୨୧⋆。 MALL MEET CUTES
part one // part two
pairing: Hiori Yo x [FEM!] Reader
genre: fluff, oneshot, classmates to lovers, friends to lovers (?), pre-bluelock au/canon compliant
synopsis: hiori is still pretty damn smitten when it comes to you, so like the lovesick fool he his, he decides to drag karasu to the mall with him to help him find a gift to impress you, of course, in a strange turn of events it turns out you're at the mall too, so whatever shall our poor loverboy do when he sees you? (or in which hiori "soccer genius" yo, is dumb enough to ask karasu of all people for girl advice, and karasu like the wonderful friend he is, tags along for the drama)
CW/additional tags: mild language, potentially ooc, i actually did research on a mall in kyoto so look at me go, might make a part three if i really feel like it
author's note: AKJFJFHAFHKJ TYYY ANON YOU'RE SO SWEET, i'm so glad you liked the first part and all of hiori + karasu's interactions, it really means a lot to me that you thought i did them justice <3
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"Would getting her makeup be a good idea?"
Hiori asked his senior as he stood outside of COLOUR STUDIO, it was a cosmetics store that he heard the girls in his class talk about occasionally , you among them.
"Or would that be too intimate? Do ya' think she'd think I'm trying too hard? Maybe we should've just stuck to stationery...."
Hiori bombarded Karasu with questions as he sighed and stared up at the daunting illuminated white sign of the shop.
His friend groaned and grabbed the sleeve of Hiori's light blue sweat shirt, dragging him into the store where a few employees and clerks gave them slightly concerned looks.
"No, we're here now so we may as well get something."
Karasu chastised his younger teammate as he escorted him into the lip product aisle, in which Hiori found himself surrounded by many unfamiliar brands with colourful packaging.
"Ya' sure know yer' way around Karasu, have ya' been here before?"
"I've been to their branch over in Osaka, my sister makes me get 'er shit whenever she runs out..."
Karasu plucked a small box from the middle of the shelf, making a point to read the label and the brand to make sure it was the one he needed.
"So what are you gonna get yer' special girl?"
He asked teasingly, as his slender fingers clutched around the small container he was holding.
"I dunno actually...I was hoping you might help me?"
Hiori replied, chuckling nervously. He already knew that Karasu had an older sister, so must have some knowledge on these kinds of things.
His teammate seemed to deadpan at his friend's request, feigning a hurt expression at his friend's question.
"So I'm just a personal shopping assistant to ya'? I'm hurt Hiori."
Karasu gave him a playful pout before breaking into a mild fit of laughter after Hiori swatted his shoulder. The older boy promptly turned to one of the shelves and tossed Hiori a small pink tube of lip gloss.
"Get 'er this one, the quality is pretty good and it has a reasonable price."
Karasu said nonchalantly as his back was still turned, still browsing through some of the shelves. Hiori looked down at the product tube and read out the label to himself.
"Canmake Candy Wrap Lip..."
He muttered as he rotated the slender cylinder in his hand, reading the adhesive tag on it, he realized that Karasu was right, the price was within his budget, and the packaging was rather cute, not to mention how the tube itself contained a good amount of product.
He was about to thank his friend before realizing that Karasu was back at the front counter of the store, probably asking one of the employees for help with finding something.
Observing his surroundings, Hiori thought that browsing the shop a little bit more couldn't hurt, he still had plenty of funds to spare, more than enough to buy you something else.
Hiori continued to browse the current aisle he was in, allowing his fingers to brush against the array of cosmetics, all neatly sorted and arranged by brand, type, and flavour.
As he continued to run his hand along the rows upon rows of products, he stumbled across another area of products that caught his eye.
"Rohto Mentholatum Lip Balm..."
He read the mini card board sign that was clipped to the shelf as he observed the packaging. The one's that were currently stocked were said to be peach flavoured, the price seemed fairly reasonable as well.
Now, that he thought about it, having a lip balm on hand would be pretty practical, Hiori hated the feeling of his chapped lips. Plus, he deserved some kind of reward.
Hiori reached for one of the tubes, and right before he was about to take the lip balm from the shelf, his fingers brushed against a stranger's hand who was reaching for the exact some one.
On instinct, Hiori pulled away, muttering a quick apology. He turned to said stranger to say tell them that they could take it before realizing that said stranger wasn't a stranger at all.
"Oh! Hiori?"
Oh God, it was you
"H-hey!"
He managed to squeak out as you gave him a soft smile, he was surprised he hadn't made a complete fool of himself yet. Without realizing it, he had promptly shoved the tube of lip gloss he was going to buy for you into his back pocket.
"Hi! I didn't realize you were the shopping type Hiori."
You greeted him once more as you observed the hand that quickly pocketed the lip tube, you didn't press any further however.
"Oh, I'm not actually, I'm just getting a gift for someone special..."
Hiori chuckled sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck. He chastised himself for his wording, of course he had to say it like that, now if he gave you the gift you'd know for sure that he liked you.
But then again, that would spare him the humiliation of actually having to say it directly to your face, not that he ever wanted to confess in the first place...
"Someone...special? I didn't know you had a girlfriend Hiori..."
You trailed off, you sounded disappointed almost.
Hiori's face flushed at your words, he didn't mean to give you that idea. He could slowly feel heat creep up his neck as you continued to stare at him.
"Guess I shouldn't be that surprised..."
This time you were avoiding eye contact, you laughed somewhat bitterly. Were you jealous? Part of Hiori wanted to delude himself into thinking that, but another part of him wanted to die right there and then to avoid making a bigger fool out of himself.
"N-No I don't have a girlfriend actually!"
He assured you as his face turned an even brighter shade of red.
Where was Karasu when ya' needed him?
Suddenly, Hiori felt a light tap against his head. It was Karasu! His knight in shining armor, to save him from the train wreck of a conversation. His teammate was holding a small basket full of a few products, some mascara, eye liner, and a few skin cream tubs among them.
"I'm gonna go check out now, are ya' done yet?"
His friend asked as he rested his hand on Hiori's shoulder, Karasu looked up at you, realizing that there was company present.
The silence that followed was deafening.
You glanced between the two boys, you had recalled Karasu from Hiori's youth team, but you didn't know much about the older boy, but you had spotted him hanging around Hiori pretty frequently, so you assumed that they were fairly close.
"Oh, I'm sorry am I interrupting something?"
You questioned as your eyes flickered between the two of them, your head was tilted slightly in curiosity. You noticed Karasu's grip on Hiori's shoulder tighten ever so slightly at the sound of your question.
Hiori shook his head frantically, Karasu was probably giving you that same unsettling stare he always used whenever he was sizing someone up on you.
"No! Not at all! But I should get going right about now..."
He assured you that nothing was wrong, but he was already flustered enough, and there was no way Karasu would let him hear the end of whatever this incident should be labelled as.
"Well I'll see you school I guess!"
You flashed him another bright smile before turning to Karasu, and you gave the older boy a curt and quick bow.
"I'm (Y/N), Hiori's classmate, it's a pleasure to meet you."
Karasu was caught off guard by your sudden politeness, but he returned the favour.
"Karasu."
He stated quickly before taking Hiori's hand in his own, you seemed to take note of this.
You were about to walk away, so you waved to them before saying;
"Have fun on your date!"
Wait what?!
If Hiori's face was red before, it was basically crimson by now. The girl he liked not only thought he was taken, but now she thought he was into guys?!
"W-we're not!-He's not-I'm not-"
Karasu simply wheezed at the current predicament, clearly amused by your assumption of Hiori and him's relationship and by his younger friend's sudden flustered expression.
"I wish! Don't worry yer' pretty little head off though, he's still avaliable∼. He's quite taken with you at that too."
Karasu teased as he winked at Hiori, clearly taking sadistic pleasure in his friend's suffering.
"Karasu!"
Hiori whisper shouted as his friend dragged him out the store, still laughing as the cyan-haired boy continued his flustered protests which bore no fruit.
Well at least you knew how he felt now...
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BONUS!
"This is why I told ya' to quit flirting with me like that! People are getting the wrong idea about us..."
"Aww but I can't have random girls stealing you away from me∼"
"Shut up ya' stupid crow!"
"Make me prodigy∼"
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halcyone-of-the-sea · 2 years
Note
hello! i hope you’re doing well! i would like to request something for alex keller! could you write something about sunshine!alex being absolutely smitten by his girlfriend who’s a grumpy!reader? sorry if this request doesn’t give a lot of ideas. love ur fics btw!!!! <3
Sun and Stars
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Pairing: Alex Keller x F!Reader
Synopsis: Bloodied, the two of you find yourselves alone in a mountainous forest, surrounded by the termite-eaten walls of a lone shack. But Alex always finds a way to make the world brighter.
Word Count: 3.6k
Warnings: Canon typical gore & themes, blood, a teeny tiny bit of angst, lots of fluff, banter, sunshine and grump dynamic
A/N: This is a bit shorter just because I wanna understand Alex's character more - take this as a test fic lmao. Enjoy, Anon!
*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*
He was peeling back your skin like layers of paint on a canvas, gripping at the dried bits and ripping them to the side. Growling as your teeth sink deeper into your boyfriend's leather belt, your eyes swirl with hatred that you direct to the man kneeling beside your propped-up form; digging the bullet out of your left arm with all the delicateness of a rhino. 
“Stop,” Alex grunts under his breath, “squirmin’ for me.” The tweezers go deeper, trying to find the sweet spot where the metal pellet had dived into your flesh at high velocity. Of course, it had been where the thick kevlar of your vest hadn’t been able to stop it – flew right to the place where the skin was uncovered. 
Alex’s breaths are steady as you stare daggers, minutes away from yanking him off of you and doing it yourself. He was so damn slow, sending concerned glances every other moment with a furrowed brow and concentrated eyes. From under your makeshift gag, there so you won't bite off your tongue, you grumble with pain lacing your barely understandable words.
“Hurry up and get the fuckin’ thing out of me, Alex!” It didn’t sound like that, obviously, but the general heat to your words made – hurrey uh ahn geh tha fuhking thing ou of meh, Ahlex! – clear enough. 
The light-haired man clears his throat, gripping your arm just a little tighter with his blood-stained gloves as his mustache rotates, scrunching his nose. His eyes are locked onto the entry wound, lids scrunched in a way you would have found comedic if you didn’t want to smack him upside the skull. Lord, could he just hurry up?
“I’m gettin’ there, Hon…just quit trying to make my head explode with your mind over there, yeah?” Alex dares to smirk when you take your free hand and slap his heavily tattooed forearm. You’re shaking your head to the side with displeasure that would transcend any barrier known to man.
A velvety chuckle leaves your lover’s lips before he leans close to your shoulder, placing a kiss on the fabric of your shirt in apology as your narrowed eyes don’t let up an inch. He pulls back and continues his exploration of your gaping puncture with focused eyes.
Prick. You chuff through your nose like a cat, fingers twitching in your lap as you fight the pull to bring it into a fist.
Sweat travels down your nose only to plop on your bunched abdomen, and in the back of your throat, you force your esophagus to hold back a whimper of restrained pain. Everything burned like your flesh was being placed on a hot spit – like you were a sheep carcass slowly rolled around and around and around–
“Here we go.” The pressure dissipates at the heavy whisper, and without even realizing it had happened, your head had tilted back into the wall and your eyes had ground themselves shut. Opening them quickly and blinking away the black dots, the soft face of your boyfriend pops into view; beaming as you deadpan up at him. The man holds up the tweezers in one hand, showing off the red-dripping metal almost lazily with a tilt of his head and a raised brow, speaking slowly. “Told ya’ I could do it faster than you.” 
Letting the belt drop from your mouth with a metallic clink, you rotate your jaw at the ache your clenching had caused. You settle with a simple, “I said I could do it better not faster. What the hell were you looking for in there anyways – gold? My whole damn arm’s numb.” 
Alex chuckles, rolling his eyes with an easy smile. To anyone else, the two of you would look like the strangest couple in the world. Covered in blood but you still have the time to bicker back and forth like a married pair. The Agent’s eyelids crinkle.
“Yeah, alright, Miss World-Class,” he motions with two fingers and a smug look, “scoot upwards so I can pack that wound before blood gets stuck in your gear. Can’t have my girl bleeding out in the middle of nowhere, now can I?” He huffs, placing the tweezers and bullet on the floor of the safe house before taking off the ruined gloves with his teeth as his neck muscles peek out from his scarf. 
His gear was all covered in fluids – blood, mud, you name it the two of you were drowned in it. The Op could have gone better, to say the very least, but, hell, when does an Op go well? It had been too long since you and the man had a break and it was starting to weigh on you. Long nights and little sleep, it was like SAD was trying to go get you both killed with all the orders being given. Do this, do that…and what happened today? You feel a weight in your chest. 
But the bullet wound wasn’t what was bothering you. 
Sighing, you take a deep breath before grunting, forcing your back farther up the wall with shaking legs and a weak stomach to comply with Alex’s request. Your arm still blazes something awful, but the numbing agent your boyfriend had been insistent on you having was finally starting to work.
“Blood loss sucks ass…” You growl under your breath, lips twisting into a frown as you force away the haze in front of your eyes with fluttering eyelashes and sheer spite. The man spares you a pitying glance as he grabs fresh gauze from the medical punch on the floor. 
Inside your chest, your heart warms despite the outward hatred you feel for getting put in a situation like this. Blinking at him, Alex tilts his head to the side as he sits up, one knee on the floor as the other behaves as an elbow rest.
“I know, Sweetheart, I’m sorry. Just bare with me, alright? I’ll take such good care of you, ya’ won't even feel a thing.” You roll your eyes with an infectious smile, head tilting back to rest on the dilapidated wall once more, and say nothing.
“Hey, now,” your boyfriend teases with tell-tale amusement in his voice, and you mumble a half-assed ‘quit it’ under your breath that goes unheeded. “I saw that smile there – you can’t get past me that easily.” 
“Keller, shut up and patch me before I bleed out.”
An amused pause makes your cheeks hurt from holding back laughter.
“...Yes, Ma’am.” He says it so smugly you can’t help the exasperated chuckle that leaves your lips. The man’s hands caress your stained skin like you were formed of glass, rubbing soothing circles as he pushes back your shirt sleeve just the tiniest bit more to see what he’s working with. 
Alex was quite good at keeping his emotions in check, knowing how to act when he needed to, and even how to change his personality to get the job done with minimal hiccups. But there were small tells – the way his hands held your skin slightly tighter, the flickering of his eyes over the crimson-coated skin. He was used to blood, but he didn’t think he could ever get used to yours. Swallowing saliva in this mouth, the man focuses on the thrumming pulse of your heart; your skin. 
She’s right here. Alex tells himself. I’m gonna fix her up, and she’ll be just fine. 
If he had the chance to shoot the man that did this to you again, he would do it in a heartbeat.
The story of how you two met was one mentioned often by friends and coworkers back in the CIA-SAD headquarters. It never got old, apparently, and as Alex gets to stuffing and wrapping your wound until the extraction team comes with proper supplies, he hums a song under his breath softly. The song.
When Alex’s presence presses nearer, you tilt your head to the side, watching the wrinkle in the large man’s brow as his careful hands fix your marred skin with the patience of a saint. Unlike him, you were more than content to bask in the silence of each other's company, gazing with hidden love at the twitch of his large nose or at the way his hair stuck every which way. 
“You remember how I asked you to dance at that ball while Frank Sinatra was playing? The one in Washington back in ‘02.” Alex asks, looking up at you with a small smile under his mustache, skin peeling back to show perfect teeth. You nod, transfixed, as the light from outside gets dimmer, watching the dying rays play in his eyes that shine like shades of blue sea-glass, “God, I thought you were going to laugh straight in my face. I swear you nearly did.” 
“The stupid corporate thing that Laswell made us go to? Yeah, I remember it,” you frown at the accusation, annoyed, “and I would never laugh at someone asking me to dance.”
He raises a light brow, and after a brief staring contest, you concede with a scoff. 
“Okay, I’d never laugh at you asking me to dance…Better, Sunshine?” Alex laughs and you swear you nearly melt into the floor, cheeks feeling hot. 
Oh, when he laughs.
“Maybe, I don’t know yet. We’ll have to go dancin’ to make sure.” 
“I hate dancing,” you tease, only biting your lip when the knot he ties in the gauze makes your blood pump faster. “Thought I told you that the first time you asked?”
“You did – but I like when you’re swayin’ in my arms. Plus,” running his hands over the bandage, pulling at the fabric to make sure it’s secure, his blue orbs sparkle with his unique mischief you’ve come to tolerate. If only for the fact that it was his. Your face softens. “I did get you to join me eventually, if my memory’s correct.” 
Smirking, you bring your hand up to his chin, tilting it towards you without hesitation. Alex complies easily, setting some of his weight onto the limb as a particularly smitten glimmer sparks over his face; he stares down at you with his mustache twitching. 
“As I recall,” your blank words echo out over the small shack, “I only said ‘yes’ so you would stop following me around like a lost dog in search of its owner.” 
“Is that it?” He jibes, a smile so wide on his face you feared he would rip his lips open.
“Hm,” leaning closer, you watch Alex’s breath stutter not a second later with satisfaction singing in your blood like a hymn, “you had that same look on your face too…Absolutely whipped.” 
“And is that such a bad thing, Sweetheart?” He whispers, not missing a beat, breath fanning your cheeks as the scruff of his beard hairs scratches your flesh. “I don’t see you complaining when I make you dinner every night.” 
Scoffing, you squeeze his chin, “how could I? Your mother blessed you with her culinary skills. I’d be a fool to pass it up.” 
Alex’s chest rumbles in a purr.
“So you’re usin’ me?” He asks, his smooth voice tilted in a tone of bold cheekiness. Like a steady wave rocking a boat.
“Would it be unethical if I was?” You counter, staring dead on into his eyes without blinking. His lips nearly brush yours when he speaks.
“Incredibly.” 
“Hm…Pity.” You release his chin and lean back into the wall, murmuring complaints under your breath about the weakness of your arm and the sweat that makes your clothes stick to you. The regular grumpy frown on your lips re-takes its place where the easy smile had once been, unknown to you.
Alex’s heart beats loudly in his chest, but he refrains from showing his disappointment at the lack of lips pressed to his, only happy that you were still acting like your normal self. It would take more than one bullet to keep you down, he knew, and his admiration only continued to grow. 
His girlfriend was a badass. 
“Here – let me.” You allow the Agent to loop his strong arm under your shoulder, taking your weight like it was nothing and helping you to your feet. The comfortable conversation slips to the back of your mind when your feet are connecting to the ground. 
Alex keeps a hand on the small of your back to make sure you don’t fall, whispering a small, “steady,” as your feet momentarily stumble.
“How far out is Evac?” You force through gritted teeth, the back of your neck heating in wounded pride. 
You loved Alex - you really did - but if anything made you feel powerless it was not being in control of your own body. In the corners of your vision, black dots swirled like paper mache puppets, their phantom bodies leaving long streaks of mist behind as they danced from one position to another. The man at your side watches closely, face going tense; ready to catch you if your legs give out. 
After a moment’s hesitation, you once more gain control over yourself and clear your throat, shaking your head from side to side. The light brunette takes a step forward so his body brushes yours, leading you to blink and look up at him with curious eyes. 
“I’d say about three hours, give or take.” You can’t help the utter annoyance that enters your expression, eyes going half-lidded as you turn to stare at the barricaded door. 
No one would be coming after you from the city – and the safe house was so far off into the mountains, no one would want to try. If your thoughts hadn’t been running so fast, you would have reveled at the situation; Alex and you alone with no one coming for hours. Now that was a blessing in disguise. 
But there was something wrong. 
She’s not acting right. Those sea-glass eyes narrow, optics flickering to try and find what exactly you were staring at, but lands on nothing but an old door with moldy wood before he gravitates back.
Concerned confusion builds in Alex’s chest. 
Now that he thought about it, you had been more snappy on this mission than the others; less open to letting his jokes and quick quips curl your lips or soften your constant scowl. He’d refrained from mentioning anything due to the fact that he knew some days were worse than others – in this line of work sometimes it was best to take a breather than to blow up. But this was different. When those days came around, you always told him about it first thing – there hadn’t been anything this time.
“Sweetheart?” Alex asks, tilting his head forward to stare at you. “...Something going on?”
“No.” Straight-faced, your hands go to work the straps of your vest, peeling at the velcro at your sides. The man’s eyes widen, taken aback, and his soft smile freezes as his eyebrows pull in. You go back to shoving away pouches and hucking off your weapon, setting it to the floor before righting yourself.
Continuing, Alex feels his worry grow tenfold. 
“Would you–” he laughs heavily in his chest to try and dispel tension as you try harder to force the vest over your head, scowling. Your arm was ripe with needles, static living under the skin as your gauze turns more red. “Would you just let me take care of you?”
“...You shouldn’t have to.” 
A moment of brain-shattering silence. 
Fuck, you curse with a burning face, did I say that out loud? He wasn’t supposed to hear that–
“And what if I want to?” Alex utters, feet carrying him in front of you and sighing. You slow your still unexplained actions, avoiding his eyes and feeling your chest tighten. He continues, bringing his hand up to your cheek to tilt your head up to him. Losing some of that tension instantaneously, you glare at his collarbone instead. “Accidents happen, Hon. We can’t always come out of this at one hundred percent. I’m not disappoint–”
“We don’t get second chances, Alex,” you interrupt loudly, motioning around you at nothing, eyes flashing as they lock with his. The man just runs his thumb over your cheek – leaving molten heat behind. “Not us. Not when every mission could be it.”
Alex halts, body suddenly going stiff and muscles bunching. His forearms seize, the vibrant tattoos that you love to trace with your fingers jerking as if being lifted from the sun-kissed skin. His thumb ceases.
What?
“...Where’s this comin’ from?” You turn away quickly, moving back a step with your hands at your side bunching into fists, “hey,” Alex follows after, hesitant, but when you don’t move away he lays both of his hands on your shoulders. “Hey. Talk to me, Sweetheart. Tell me what’s wrong.”
You shouldn't, but Alex just makes everything so much easier. It was like the words just fell out of you; whispered like a prayer. 
“...If someone would have snuck up on you while I was down…I…Y-you would have…” Your tongue bunches, catching on syllables and finding walls embedded in the vowels. God, you couldn’t even say it. 
Alex had become so important to you – the thought of something happening to him while you were unable to help…It broke you. 
What would have happened if even one more hostile was there; if he was outnumbered? And all I could do was watch. Your jaw clenches tight, throat holding back a growl.
No one had ever mattered this much to you, and that made you incredibly nervous. 
The hands at your shoulders tighten, a gentle squeeze before you’re being brought into a warm embrace without another word. Immediately, you reciprocate, the one wounded arm remaining at your side as the other digs past pouches and spare ammo to curl over Alex’s back, where you latch onto his shirt like a child. This was unlike you.
But it wasn’t like that mattered to Alex.
His body kept you close, security leaking from the locked position of his hand on the back of your head and the even swelling of his lungs. Home could mean many things to many different people, but for you, it would always be here. Colorful tattoos and a well-groomed mustache. Kind eyes. 
Sunshine smiles and sea-glass blue. 
Your lips thinned, keeping the glossiness in the corners of your vision away as you bury your head into Alex’s neck and suck down a deep breath. You both stay like that until the last light of dusk stops making shadows of the termite-eaten furniture, content to listen to each other's heartbeats and in the warmth of living skin. 
He speaks in whispers.
“How about we take a vacation? Just the two of us – take a breather from all of…this.” His words move your hair, spreading over the skin of your scalp as he presses his lips to it, murmuring into your skull with utter devotion. “You said something about Iceland to Laswell once, yeah?” 
Alex knew just as well as you did how draining this job was; how it was bad most days and horrible the next – never having choices, doing things that made an identity crisis seem like a holiday in comparison. There were some things the Agent would never tolerate, and that was you going off the deep end and him not being there to fish you out as you do with him. Being together meant fighting for one another when the battles were physical yet more so when they were unseen. 
All you had was each other. 
He feels your fingers grip his shirt slightly tighter, and a mocking laugh.
“You remembered that?” Your voice is garbled by his gear, but the vibrations spread over his skin as he fights the closing of his eyes; weaving his fingers just a little more through your locks. When you press kisses to his neck, Alex swears he’ll bend to one knee without hesitation.
“‘Course,” he smirks softly, lightly beginning to sway the two of you back and forth despite your half-hearted protests. “I remember everything my girl says. But if we’re goin’,” the Agent leans back, prompting you to look up at him with fatigued but bright eyes, “you owe me a dance first.”
“Alex,” you roll your eyes, chest lighter and mild panic gone. Funny, how the man could make everything disappear so simply. “We don’t even have any music.”
“You’re insinuating that we need music, Sweetheart.” 
“...You’re exhausting, Keller.” 
“Shush – you’re getting me off beat.”
“There is no beat–!” He presses his lips to yours, and the melody of your heart becomes song enough. Your eyes flutter shut as the scratch of Alex’s mustache leaves you grinning, his own lips peeling back in a smile in answer. 
A great bout of chuckles spills over the room, separating your supple flesh but never making you move far apart.
“...Just be careful. I’m still sore.” You hum your admittance, and he connects your foreheads together more gracefully than butterflies wings. 
Sea-glass blue. 
“Yes, Ma’am.”
The stars might have been out, shining through the dusty window of that old shack in the middle of nowhere, but you didn’t need the illumination from them to guide your unhurried steps. You had a sun of your own to light the path, and he was keeping his arms around you; squeezing as if you’d leave. 
As if. 
Gentle laughter spills out from under the doorway, seemingly making the rocky forest outside come alive. Birds sang songs to their adoring mates, deer grazed in lush green meadows in contentful calm. Wood Nymphs frolicked to and fro on fast feet, but would pause near the ancient forgotten building with termites living in the frame; taking quick peaks inside through murky glass and pressing moss-coated fingers to lips. 
They watched the two lovers dance with awe-filled expressions. For they had seen many lifetimes but had never once glimpsed such a sight as this – proof of every principle that Eros had preached as he and Psyche became inseparable. A love so pure and giving, some would call it divine.
The immortal beings watched just a little longer, lichen-lips parted into smiles.
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m1d-45 · 2 years
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You know, I've been thinking. The stars in our world often look quite dim, especially in areas where there is light pollution. Suddenly, I'm imagining that in the Imposter!AU, the Creator looks at the stars at night, captivated by their brilliance. Perhaps Scaramouche or Mona (Whichever you prefer, you may also just write another character you think fits this scenario :D) find them. The Creator looks at them, then back at the stars.
"They're very lovely, you know? The stars never shine this brightly back home. It's a lovely sight..."
They smile. "I'm happy that I'm able to see them, even if it's in another world. I appreciate you letting me look at them before I die."
Perhaps the character takes pause... And sits next to them.
It's a lovely night.
in the stars
word count: ~1k
-> warnings: violence, blood, both of those in your future so technically you’re not hurt yet, not written for mona mains, sorry, didn’t work with the plot :/ also diona/klee/qiqi/nahida/sayu mains are on thin ice with this one. questionable plot. barely edited.
-> lowercase intended
taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie
< masterlist >
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the stars never lie.
mona clutches her catalyst to her chest, wide eyes turned to the sky. she whispers to them, hoping they’ll change, shift into something she’ll understand, anything.
they don’t.
her head lowers, inspecting the book. thrilling tales, the spine reads, the cover a simplified dragon with a sword through it. she tries to read into it, to try and pick apart the motives behind the weapon, but all it returns is a simple needlepoint.
a compass. one she’d followed ever since she caved into the pull on her catalyst, one she’d followed out of the city at dusk and into the plains, hiking up starsnatch cliff at its behest. her twin tails had lost some of their curl on the journey, her hat flopping sadly. it was late, later than she’d normally be awake, and she stumbled once on a rock before quickly catching herself, checking to make sure you hadn’t moved.
you, sat at the peak of the cliff. you, surrounded by cecelias, face turned to the stars. you, who turned at her short cry.
“are you alright?”
she couldn’t bring her hands to shift her catalyst into its attack position. her hands, free from their usual gloves, dug into the cover of the book, shaking both with the chill of night and with… she couldn’t tell, couldn’t pin whether it was fear or nervousness, or something else that blurred the line between panic and excitement.
“just fine, thank you.”
her voice was harsher than it should have been. she could tell you were being genuine, the way the water in the air shaped around you like it wanted to cling made that clear enough, the stars shining down on you as if you were the only being on the planet.
the stars never lie. so why were they saying you meant no harm?
you turned back to the stars, your hands shifting back to weave into the grass between the cecelias.
"they’re very lovely tonight. the stars, i mean. they never shine this brightly back home….” against her better judgement, mona glanced up. the sky was particularly clear, constellations shining down unhindered. “it’s a beautiful sight.”
orders from the knights echoed in mona’s head, orders extended from a god she’d never met. she knew the knights wholeheartedly meant what they said, truly believing the words they were told, but you…
hesitantly, she brought her hand in a circle in front of her, scrying for your constellation. you didn’t have one, unsurprisingly, and she relaxed slightly in the knowledge that you didn’t have a vision.. still, there was something strange about the empty space where yours would have been. swapping the sigils and rotating the outer edge, mona decided to read your future.
all the air was sucked from her lungs, the images depicted in the water making her mouth dry. the water warped and bubbled a dark color, as if it itself hated to show what it did.
you were on your knees, tight steel chains wrapped around you and latched onto hooks in whatever you were sitting on. in front of you stood the favored, the creator’s most prized, their weapon drawn. their form was taught with anger, nearly seething. it was strange, so uncharacteristic that it froze the astrologist in place for a moment.
no matter how fiery the disposition, vessels of yours were calmer after being wished upon, heart stiller for being by your side. they, the most prominent on your team of them all, should be at most handling such a severe situation with a tick in their jaw and quiet fury in their eyes, not…
she watched with sick horror as the favored attacks once, your chest caving once, twice with hitched attempts at breathing before you slumped over, blood trickling from your neck. the favored stepped back, weapon dismissed, and mona closed the illusion before it played any further. she hadn’t meant to look all the way to your death, only a few-
…only a few hours.
her hands shake where they’re still clasped in front of her, the remains of her scrying circle swirling in her palms. you didn’t even have a day.
she let the water fall, sending it towards the cecelias around you, willing them to stand brighter as she approached. she couldn’t bring herself to summon her catalyst, not now that she knew what your fate held.
the grass was damp beneath her, seeping slightly into her nightclothes. you didn’t say anything, simply passing her a flower that you had been twirling in your palms. she willed it to heal, restored the color to its petals and the strength to its stem, then passed it back. she had no use for it, not when you…
you chuckled as you took it, staring down at it for a moment before turning skyward once more. mona followed your eyes up, spotting a well known constellation directly above you. nearly perfectly straight up, glowing like a beacon, was the constellation of the favored, six stars making themselves prominent against the dotted sea of night.
“beautiful, isn’t it?”
she swallowed, eyes flicking down to you. you were still watching the stars, probably tracing the shape of the constellation above you. unknowing of what it spelled for your fate, unknowing of the warning written above you.
mona settled into the grass a little more, taking her hat off her head so it wouldn’t fall when she looked up again.
“indeed, it is.”
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sunshine-zenith · 17 days
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You opened up a can of worms with that post detailing Peri's apparent horrible taste in men and now I'm gonna subject you to my ramblings about it.
Like with peridale I see it as completely one-sided from Dale's end and he knows that Peri hates his guts but it doesn't matter to him.
With perirep it's more of an on-and-off thing (situationship?). And when things truly did end for good, Irep wouldn't really be over it and tries to get his attention.
The point I'm making is that I then thought about Irep x Dale and how that would just be a really terrible rebound. I think I saw one post about Irep being Dale's crooked lawyer to contrast with Peri being Dev's babysitter and how they interacted in the Battle of the Big Wand that inspired this.
But poor Dev man, everyone wants to get with his godparent.
Yesssss, I love all this — Dale and Irep rebounding with each other screams disaster, and a human AU where Irep is the corrupt lawyer totally works
Between baby Peri spending months trying to befriend the guy who was actively trying to kill him in the original show and Cosmo specifically wording Peri quitting on Dev as “he said you two were on a break, he was waiting for you to call!” I 100% see Peri as the type of person who, upon seeing a red flag, goes “I can change him”
In all scenarios involving him and Dale, I imagine it starts with Peri trying to get custody of Dev while not breaking any human or fairy laws — he just needs to be Dale’s spouse long enough to legally adopt Dev, becoming his legal parent and not just a godparent or stepparent. Dale almost certainly would be as bad a significant other as he is a parent lol, but he’d still be blindsided by a breakup/divorce. At some point, Peri realizes that underneath Dale’s layers of negligence, greed, and corruption, there’s more layers of trauma and daddy issues, and he can’t help but get invested
It isn’t worth it, but at least he gets Dev and (if he plays his cards right) some hefty alimony out of it
As for Irep… calling them a situation ship is perfect tbh. There’s so much history there, so much genuine positive and negative feelings on both sides. I deffo headcanon that they at least dated in the past (again, Cosmo’s wording about Peri waiting for a phone call felt very specific — possibly unintentional projecting, like that’s how Peri and Irep’s last attempt at dating ended). If you think about it, there were probably times where Irep was the most consisted person in Peri’s life (he ended up low/no contact with his parent after they retired and he basically lost his big brother. I can’t see Irep necessarily being his rock throughout this, but he was probably at least a steady figure).
I really love all the fanart of Peri and Irep co-godparenting Dev and I lowkey hope that if we do get a season 2, we get at least one episode with them doing that — it’s both incredibly funny and incredibly wholesome to think about
That said, I agree lmao, if they’re officially done done, Irep would be significantly less willing to accept it that Peri. Shoot, I’m pretty sure that’s a little bit the point they’re at in the episode Irep is reintroduced in — Peri barely gives Irep the time of day and acts smug when he brings Jorgen onto the scene, and attitude that probably comes from years of having your emotional investment in someone tossed back in your face
As for your last point, yes yes yes I am rotating Dev’s face when he realizes his godparent has such trash taste around in my head. He absolutely openly judges Peri and is constantly mortified. If you’ll tolerate me being wholesome for a moment, though… we see that between Dev stealing Hazel’s hat to protect her and him going back to save her from Vicky that Dev is actually very protective of the people he loves (a character trait I do plan on taking advantage of in my fanfics). I love the idea of him getting to the point of being protective of Peri. He’d see the type of people Peri dates and decides to sabotage those dates, possibly with Hazel’s reluctant help. It drives Peri up a wall, but let’s be real, it’s almost always justified lmao
(Cupid, whose known Peri since he was a baby and was likely an uncle figure to him, probably sees his pseudo-nephew as a disaster, but at least it keeps him busy)
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jackoshadows · 7 months
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The level of utterly hypocritical discourse in the asoiaf fandom.
About Sansa:
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Same person about Robb and Jon:
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Same person about Dany:
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I simply love how there are these multipage essays and economic treatises on how Robb, Jon, Dany Et al. fuck up and fumble and are just bad leaders who don't enforce wage regulations and clause three of the constitution in worker's rights or plan army discipline and Jon is apparently just an 'angry teenager' unfit for leadership etc.
But Sansa? QUEEN IN THE NORTH because she's the blood of Winterfell! ITS WHAT SHE DESERVES NARRATIVELY.
And Sansa, who is currently 13, should be queen because the narrative says so! When, according to the same person, 16 year olds Jon and Robb fuck up as they are too young to be good rulers as per the same narrative that tells them that Sansa will be Queen...
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That's what the narrative is telling us - that characters can become the best rulers/leaders simply because of their blood and has nothing to do with experience and learning and wisdom and hey look at Dany, Robb and Jon fucking up when Sansa will magically, simply be the best - the NARRATIVE SAYS SO!
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Meanwhile GRRM on ruling:
One thing that I am trying to get at in the books, the political aspect if you would, is to kind of show that this stuff is hard. I think that an awful lot of fantasy and even some great fantasy falls under the mistake of assuming that a good man would be a good king and all that is necessary is to be a decent human being and then when you are king everything will go swimmingly. Tolkien is great but we never get into the nitty gritty of Aragorn ruling. What is his tax policy? How does he feel about crop rotation? How does he handle land disputes between two nobles, both of whom think that they should have the village, so they burn it down to establish their claim. This is the hard part of ruling be it in the middle ages or now. It’s not enough to be a good man to be an effective ruler. It’s complicated and it’s hard and I wanted to show that with repeated examples in my books with my kings and hand of the kings - the prime minister if you would - trying to rule. And whether it be Ned Stark or Tyrion Lannister or Tywin Lannister or Daenerys Targaryen or Cersei Lannister trying to deal with the real challenges that affect anyone trying to rule the 7K or even a city like Meereen and it’s hard. You know, we can all read the books or read history and say oh, so and so was stupid and made a lot of mistakes and look at all these stupid mistakes they make. But these kind of mistakes are always much more apparent in hind sight than when you are actually faced with the decision about, oh my God, what would I do in this situation. How do I resolve this thing? Do I do the moral thing? But what about  the political consequences of the moral thing? Do I do the pragmatic, cynical thing and kind of screw the people who are screwed by it? I mean, it is HARD. And I want to get to all of that - GRRM
Apparently, when it comes to Sansa, GRRM will be saying:
" I mean, it (ruling) is EASY. The food conundrums that Jon and Dany are unable to solve in entire books will be easily tackled by Sansa who will just ask everyone to bring their grain to Winterfell! Easy peasy and one and done! I mean, Sansa is the BLOOD OF WINTERFELL! "
These chucklefucks don't know the first thing about narratives and themes. The result of GRRM not writing a book in 13 years is wading through shite like this.
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mello-t-befan · 5 months
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youtube
The video accompanying this project (turn the subtitles ON ^^)
Partially inspired by this post ^^
Like a lot of people, I was disapointed by Disney's "Wish", even more as I read more and more about what it could have been. So I try and comfort myself with my own version, partly inspired by @annymation's fanfic "Kingdom of Wishes".
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Name : Asha Lucero
Age : 18 Species : human Wish(es) : becoming a storyteller; freeing Rosas and giving the wishes back to the people Power(s) : her magical pen materialize her drawings
Name : Valentino Lucero
Age : 1 month Species : baby goat Wish(es) : protecting Asha and thanking her for taking care of him Power(s) : on-demand human speech
In "Kingdom of Wishes" Asha's wish is to make other people happy and becoming a great artist. And even though I like this take, I'd like Asha to be a symbolic representation of people inspired by Disney productions into becoming artists (writers, filmmakers, ect) themselves. Hence why I would like her to be a storyteller with her drawings. And of course, she'd have her cute little romance with Najm (my starboy). And Valentino would be a cute baby goat actually helping Asha and being an actual funny emotional support for her, instead of being useless and unfunny.
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Name : Najm (pronounce "n-ah-j-uh-m"; arabic for "star")
Age : 17 rotations (17 earth years)
Species : wishing star
Wish(es) : none (truly; becoming human)
Power(s) : communicating with animals/plants and giving them speech, growing plants, levitation, animal metamorphosis, influencing dreams, infusing his magic into objects, human camouflage, purificating corrupt wishes, empathy
@annymation had the excellent idea of making her starboy a 2D character evolving in a 3D world and being able to hide themselves has a 3D character with a off-animation, kinda like Hobie in "Across the Spider-verse". And while helping Asha, he'd became more and more engrossed by humanity up to wishing he'd be human himself. I find almost nothing to add, except that I wanted Najm to be a shapeshifter so here it is !
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Name : King Magnifico of Rosas Age : mid-50s Species : human Wish(es) : reign supreme with Amaya (truly; being needed) Power(s) : levitation/fire/dark magic, materializing wishes and corrupting them Name : Queen Amaya of Rosas Age : early-50s Species : human Wish(es) : reign supreme with Magnifico (truly; being loved for herself) Power(s) : alchemy, emotional manipulation Name : Charo Age : 2 years old Species : eurasian lynx Wish(es) : protecting his masters and eating Valentino Power(s) : human-like intelligence
In "Kingdom of Wishes" Magnifico is the latest of a long line of magician royalty protecting Rosas and the Wishes and he poisoned his brother with the complicity of his evil wife Amaya. It's a great idea and all, but I wanted to stay simple and distinct enough so I got rid of the fratricide part and just made him the rotten apple of what was a rather decent batch. Other than that, they would be just like @annymation made them be.
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leilani-lily · 7 months
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~Oh Deer~ (Chapter 5)
I'll admit, I had this finished a while ago, but couldn't post until now. I have a confession to make... my long term boyfriend of 6 years split with me a couple days ago. And it's been... hard, to say the least. I'm really hoping this wont deter me from continuing to write (especially since this story is kinda romantic, but also isn't? There's deep feelings involved xD) I hope maybe writing can maybe help me as it serves as a distraction? I honestly don't know... All I can ask for is patience as I deal with this. If I find I need a break I'll be sure to let you guys know. But I guess for now, please keep me in your thoughts if you can. Or if anyone wants to swap stories I'm more than happy to share. ꨄ But ok. Enough sadness. This chapter was a joy to write before all the bs happened. I hope it can make you smile! And as always, please feel free to comment your thoughts! SYNOPSIS: AroAce! Alastor x Chef!Singer! Reader. You settle into hotel life, and whip up Alastor's fave dish! But some drama ensues when you get a little too friendly with a certain Spider Demon~ Word Count: 4.4 K Chapter under the cut! ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
You had developed quite a routine here during your time at the hotel, and you certainly found your days a lot busier than you had intended.
Your morning coffee with Alastor that usually blended into breakfast, then joining him in his tower for his broadcasts. He’d always pour two glasses of rye whisky and sit with you, asking for your thoughts afterwards. You’d discuss what you liked and didn’t like, and were surprised to learn he took criticism well (other than the occasional eye twitch). You’d bounce off new topics for future shows together before wrapping up and heading back down to the kitchen for the lunch rush.
After lunch was usually when Charlie would want to round everybody up. Either discussing how to make the hotel more liveable, how to recruit more sinners, or various exercises to improve everyone’s character. Sometimes these meetings were very boring and you’d have to pinch yourself constantly to stay awake. But for the most part they were fun, and you found yourself actually enjoying spending time with everyone. Especially goofing around with Angel and Husk, which usually resulted in Vaggie snapping at you all as you choke back laughter. Sometimes you would catch Alastor watching you with an unreadable expression, but you didn’t think anything of it. 
When that would wrap up, it was time to whip up dinner. You managed to figure out everyone’s favourite foods, and every Friday you decided you’d rotate through and make someone’s special  dish for them. Everyone enjoyed Friday dinners, always trying to guess what everyone liked, make bets on who was next, and were especially pleased if it was their night. It wasn’t much, but their praise always made you secretly feel warm and bubbly inside. 
Finally, after cleaning everything up and ending your shift, you’d have some spare time. Depending on how the day went, you would either read and have a quiet night to yourself, or just completely pass out straight away. 
Before you knew it, a month had flown before your eyes; bringing you into the present.
You knew you had no reason to be so nervous. Angel had loved his lasagna dish last week, and previously Charlie loved the pizza you had made (even if others had picked off the pineapple in disgust). You had proven you were a good chef since working here. But this Friday meal in particular… this one was different. It was Alastor’s. Your closest friend. And you knew just how important this particular meal was. It wasn’t just a dish, it was a memory. A way to remember his mother, and you had learned very quickly just how much she meant to him. 
Your heart was fluttering nervously as you put the jambalaya out on the large dining table. No one was there yet, but you could hear the chitter of excited demons coming closer to you, so you knew they were on their way. You always tried to make Friday’s dinner special, it was the one meal where you all sat and ate together. Kind of like a little family. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, your heart fluttering warmly at the thought. You went back to the kitchen to grab the cheddar biscuits, your mind wandering back to Alastor. You shouldn't be overthinking this, it’s just a stupid dinner. Did his opinion really matter that much to you?
You re-enter the dining room, and your eyes immediately locked with the demon in question. Alastor’s smile seemed to brighten the moment he saw you, but his smile only made your hands sweaty.
…… Yes, yes his opinion really did matter that much. You really wanted to make a good impression. 
“Ooooh and ya baked fresh biscuits??” Angel had zipped up beside you, eyeing the plate of goodies in your hands, “ya really know how ta spoil a demon Baby Cakes!” His fingers danced over a biscuit, causing you to snap out of your hold with Alastor and give Angel a quick slap on the wrist. He zipped his hand away in mock horror, making you snort a moment.
“You know the rules; no eating ‘till everyone’s here,” You scold him, but you can’t help but smile; you could never really be angry with him. Angel groaned dramatically, hugging himself with his four arms.
“You’re a cruel mistress y/n; makin’ a cutie like me practically starve to death! Jus’ look at me! I’m witherin’ away!” he leans up against you, arching his back as his full weight pressed on you. You let out a single laugh as you tried to maintain your hold on the plate and not fall over. He continued to groan weakly as his one arm grasped the air above him and another flopped over his eyes. 
Wow. Someone give this guy an award. No wonder he was in show business. 
You laugh again at the dramatics and roll your eyes. Finally, you sighed and grabbed a biscuit, offering it to the Spider Demon. Angel peeked over and immediately lit up, grabbed it eagerly before standing up straight, miraculously recovering from his ‘near death’. He took a deep whiff of the warm bread before smiling back at you. 
“Yarra real doll toots~” he gives you a flirty wink to which you shake your head in amusement. Always the charmer this one. 
“Yeah yeah, well, just don’t tell the others. Or else they might think you’re my favourite~!” You swing your hips to him and give him a playful hip bump, winking right back. He laughed as the nudge pushed him to the side, using the momentum to walk to his seat. But as he sauntered away, he looked back and grinned mischievously.
“Well maybe they should~!” he called back, doing a little suggestive shoulder shimmy and wiggling his eyebrows. You couldn’t help your snort. Cheeky thing. 
You knew it was all in good fun; teasing and play-flirting had become your thing. He was like the gal-pal you had never had since coming to Hell, and you could tell he was happy to have a girlie here at the hotel. You knew his real bestie was some demon named Cherri (which he INSISTED you all had to go out one night), but having another chica just a couple rooms down from his own was fun and convenient. And you were happy to be that friend for him if it meant slumber parties and beauty routines. 
You felt someone’s eyes on you, and you snapped out of your bubbly thoughts. Alastor was standing in the same spot he was before, not having moved an inch. He was still smiling, but this time it felt a little more strained. More forced. And his eye twitched ever so slightly. You also noticed his grip tight around his microphone. He caught you looking at him and immediately turned away, beginning to walk back to his seat with an unreadable expression. 
… That was weird. 
Before you could even begin to process, the rest of the gang entered the room. They all gave you a greeting in their own quirky ways as they arrived and made their way to their seats. Angel shoved the rest of the biscuit into his mouth to hide any evidence and happily trotted over to Husk. You smiled happily at the arrival of your comrades and set the tray of bread down on the table. Everyone looked at the spread before them and chittered excitedly, impressed with the effort you had put into tonight’s dinner. 
As everyone sat down, you quickly made your way to your seat beside Angel. Before sitting down, you cleared your throat a moment to get everyone’s attention. As the happy chatter died down, you began to speak.
“First off, I’d like to thank everyone for joining in today’s special dinner. Today’s meal is inspired by our very own Facility Manager, Alastor.” Everyone clapped politely and Charlie even gave a small whoop of encouragement. Alastor sat up proudly from his seat at the head of the table, loving the attention he was getting. 
“I’ll admit, I was a bit intimidated with tackling this particular dish, as we’ve all heard him boast about his mother’s recipe.” There were a couple chuckles scattered around the table, everyone very aware of how much he spoke of it. Husk in particular rolled his eyes and muttered quietly in disdain.
“I realize I’ll probably never meet up to her standards,” you look back at Alastor and give a sheepish smile, “but I sincerely hope it’s to your liking.” Alastors smile widened ever so slightly, his hooded gaze softening at your words. 
“My dear,” he marveled, his eyes never leaving yours, “the fact that you were kind enough to take the time to prepare it with me in mind already makes it wonderful.” You felt your hand press up to your chest, your fist curling up tightly near your heart. Alastor always knew what to say to make you feel better. He could be really gentle when he wanted to be. 
“Yea, and not only for ol’ Smiles ‘ere,” Angel spoke up, making you look down at him, “But you’ve made some bitchin’ good meals fer all of us.” he gestured to the crowd, gaining various murmurs of agreement and praise. You looked at everyone and their smiling faces and could feel your chest tightening. 
“Seriously, Sugar, ya freakin’ amazing.” Angel continued, giving you a warm smile. He suddenly grabbed onto his glass and raised it high, giving everyone a cocky grin. “Let’s hear it for y/n ya filthy sinnars!” 
Before you could comprehend, everyone had raised their glasses and gave a cheer of encouragement. You looked out to everyone and their genuine happiness and support, at a loss for words. You had organized all of this simply because you wanted to, but you had to admit, being recognised felt really good. A warmth began to spread into your chest, and a lump formed in your throat. 
It… wow, it had been so long since you’ve had friends like this.
You did your best to blink back tears at the gesture, not expecting to get so emotional over all of this. As you took a moment to acknowledge everyone, your gaze finally turned to Alastor. 
Oddly enough, he wasn’t looking at you, but he was looking at Angel. His eyebrows were tight as his grin stretched in an uncomfortable smile. You could tell he felt your gaze, cause soon his eyes flicked up to you, catching you watching him. In the blink of an eye, his expression softened as he grabbed his own glass, raising it high and giving you a heartening look. You shook the strange feeling from before and smiled back at him, grateful for his appreciation. 
The excitement settled down as everyone started serving themselves, the smell of the cooking becoming too much for everyone to ignore. You finally sat in your chair and reached out for Angel’s hand. The Spider Demon looked to you in surprise for a moment, taking in your smiling face.
“That was really sweet of you to say Angel,” you whispered, your grip on him tightening for a moment. You could feel yourself choking up again. “Seriously… Thank you.” Angel's face softened as he twisted his hand so it could grip on to yours. He began to open his mouth to respond.
In a mere moment, you could feel your chair lurch backwards, a panicked yelp escaping your throat as your hand was ripped out of Angel’s. Everyone immediately stopped what they were doing, looking at you in surprise. Angel turned in his seat and looked at you stupidly.
“... What the fuc-?”
Angel didn’t even get a chance to finish his statement as suddenly everyone chairs in your row shifted to the right, causing everyone to cry out and grip onto their seats in fear. Everyone on the other side of the table looked on in disbelief as their friends were shuffled around. 
To your surprise, while everyone shifted right, you slid to your left at lightning speed, the chair scraping loudly on the wooden floor. You suddenly jolted to a stop, and you held on for dear life at the force in which you were moving. Before you could recover, your chair lurched forward, propelling you back to the table and new place setting.
… Right next to Alastor.
You gasped in surprise, your heart racing in shock as you felt your knuckles turning white from gripping the seat so hard. You noticed something flicker beneath you, and your eyes managed to catch something. A shadow with a familiar Cheshire grin shimmied away from the feet of your chair before melting into the shade of the table. 
Your head whipped up to Alastor in disbelief. The Radio Demon had just finished serving himself jambalaya, not even looking in your direction as he tapped the serving spoon against his plate. With a cool expression, he turned his head to you and tilted his head to the side, as if nothing had happened.
“... Jambalaya~?” He pointed the spoon to the pot and looked at you expectantly.
Everyone stared for a moment, the room eerily quiet.
“.......... Alastor what the actual FUCK was that?!” Angel suddenly exploded, clearly very upset that his bestie was now 2 chairs away from him. Everyone else in your row nodded in agreement, perplexed at the sudden change in seating. Alastor didn't turn his head, nor look at Angel. The Radio Demon simply took your plate and began serving you the ride dish, his expression surprisingly calm and attention only on you.
“Just say when dear~”
Your eyes darted from Alastor to Angel, unsure of what to even do or say. Angel’s face scrunched up into a scowl, clearly displeased with being ignored.
“Hey! Freaky Face! I’m talkin’ to ya!” he growled, his hands tightening into fists. Alastor continued to ignore the spider, continuing to serve you as if it was just the two of you in the room. 
“My my, hungry now are we y/n dearest~?” Alastor grinned cheekily. You were still so dumbstruck, your gaze finally fell to your plate and you quickly realized just how full it was getting. Awkwardly looking between Angel and Alastor, you softly murmured a 'w-when'. Alastor gave a hum of approval and tapped the spoon on your plate before setting it back down in front of you. 
“Hah, ok Asshole. I see how it is.” Angel chuckled darkly to himself, “I get it. Ya just hate ta see anyone else gettin’ cozy with our little chef. I’ll admit, I didn’t take ya for the jealous type.”
That seemed to catch Alastors attention.
It was only for a moment, and only you were able to catch it sitting so close to him. But you noticed the Radio Demon’s pupils flash, and his one eyelid twitch as his smile grew dangerously wide. But in an instant, Alastor calmed his expression and was back to his suave self. Taking a breath, he finally turned his head to Angel.
“Oh please.” He drawled, his eyes looking at him with boredom, “I simply figured it only made sense for our wonderful chef to sit next to the demon who inspired tonight’s dish. Wouldn’t you agree y/n~?” He turned his head to you and slowly leaned in, giving you a pleasant smile. You felt your heart leap at suddenly being caught off guard, unsure of what to say.
“I, ah, well-!” 
Everyone's eyes were on you, and you suddenly felt very self conscious. Being put on the spot like this, and feeling as if you had to choose between your two friends, it was becoming very overwhelming. Unbeknownst to you, Charlie looked at you with such pity, and felt her own blood begin to boil at the situation these men put you in. Placing her hands on the table, the Princess of Hell rose from her chair, her face suddenly very authoritative.
“Both of you need to stop this nonsense.” She stated, looking down at both Angel and Alastor disapprovingly. “Y/n put a lot of effort into making this dinner special; and I won't allow you to ruin it over something so petty!” She continued to glare at them judgingly before turning her attention to you, giving you a quick comforting smile and nod. You felt your shoulders relax and smile back at her, feeling grateful for her support. She really was growing into her royal title. 
Angel had his arms crossed and was clearly still pissed, but there was a mix of shame in his eyes after being called out. Alastor’s face remained surprisingly calm, turning to look over at you. He noticed your posture and expression, his eyes calculating as he assessed the situation. Finally he turned back to the table.
“Our Princess is right of course~!” He smiled, lifting a hand and placing it on your shoulder, “I would hate for all of dear y/n’s efforts to be neglected. She has worked so hard; let us forget about all this nonsense and enjoy this wonderful meal~!” His eyes slid to Angels and gave him a hard stare. The Spider demon glared right back, his jaw tight and eyes furrowed with hatred. But after glancing at both you and Charlie, and seeing your faces, he finally grumbled in defeat. With a huff, Angel reached for another cheddar biscuit and slouched in his seat, ending the feud.  
You finally released the breath you were holding as everyone shrugged their shoulders and returned their focus to their plates. You felt Alastors grip on your shoulder tighten for a moment, making you turn to him. 
“Are you quite alright my dear?” He asked, an eyebrow raised in question. Despite the calm look on his face, you knew he wouldn't be asking if he wasn't genuinely concerned. You sighed and felt a smile spread across your face, giving his hand a pat in reassurance. 
“Yeah, I’m ok Al,” you started, beginning to shake your head and grin as you thought about the shenanigans he pulled earlier. “But seriously, there’s no need to be so jealous. If you want to sit beside me, just say so.” You looked up to him playfully, your previously conflicted emotions melting away. Alastor stared at you for a moment, his eye’s lidded and giving you a blank stare before turning to his plate. Removing his hand from your shoulder, he picked up his utensils and was suddenly very focused on his meal.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about y/n~” he replied. He scooped up a spoonful of rice and shrimp. You could feel your eyes crinkling as you watched him knowingly.
“Uh huh~” you smirk. 
The Radio Demon ignored you and took his first bit of jambalaya. Your grin slowly began to fall as you watched him pull the spoon out from his lips, your previous nerves from earlier settling in again. You watched his expression with baited breath as he tasted your cooking. 
His appearance didn’t change much; his eyes looking down at the food beneath him, eyes flickering over the plate. After a moment, his eyelids sank down closed as he continued to chew, allowing all of his senses to focus on the flavor. You could feel your leg begin to jiggle anxiously; seriously it was sad how badly you wanted this man’s approval. 
The demon lifted his head and gulped his mouthful down, eyes still closed and lips in a small pressed smile. You held your breath as you waited for his verdict. Alastor’s smile grew wider as he lowered his head back to the plate, opening his eyes and looking fondly at the dish below him. 
“Well well~” he chuckled, finally turning his head to you and giving you an impressed look, “I have to admit, this is as close as anyone has ever gotten.” 
You felt your heart stop.
Is he shitting you right now?
“Of course,” he continued, scooping another spoonful and inspecting it, “it is missing a few things; she’d usually add sausage as well, and probably a bit more spice to it.” he looked fond for a moment, seeming to reminisce to days gone by.
“Nevertheless, it does still taste like home~” He took another bite and once again closed his eyes, savoring the flavors. 
You felt lighter than a feather. 
Of course you knew you’d never get it exactly right. But holy crap you were so relieved that it met his expectations. You were so giddy you had to bite your lip to prevent yourself from squealing, practically doing a little happy dance in your chair. Satisfied with Alastors response, you grabbed onto your own spoon and began to happily dig in.
You were so carefree in your own little world, you didn’t even notice Alastor sneaking a glance at you. Or how his lips curled up ever so slightly at your antics before turning back to his plate. 
The rest of the evening went on without a hitch. Everyone gorged themselves until they were ready to burst, and complimented you on such a flavorful meal. You were so flustered with all the praise; despite the little quarrel that had happened earlier, you couldn’t have been more pleased with how the night went. And you felt more confident with your cooking now that you had Alastor’s official stamp of approval.
The group of demons eventually began to trickle out of the room, ready to immediately flop onto the closest comfortable furniture they could find. You giggled at their behavior and wished you could do the same, but you still had to clean up before you could clock off work. With a final stretch, you turn back to the table and are surprised to see Alastor still in his chair, leaning back comfortably and eyes closed.
“Truly a wonderful evening y/n dearest,” he sighed, opening a single eye to look at you, “There’s something about dining with a group of folks that brings out a certain camaraderie, don’t you think~?” You sighed happily as you approached the table.
“Honestly, it was something I had forgotten I had missed since coming to Hell,” you smiled, beginning to stack the plates and collecting utensils. “I’m just happy to do my part in getting demons to open up more and earn everyone’s trust.”
Alastor said nothing in return, simply watching you as you accumulated the dirty dishes. His eyebrow quirked up before he finally raised his hand and snapped his fingers. Shadows emerged from under the table, making you gasp and almost drop your stack of plates. The same shaded goons from your first week at the hotel appeared beside you and began collecting all the dishes. You begin to tumble over words of protests, but they didn’t pay attention to you as they continued to clean, one even grabbing the stack in your hands and waddling to the kitchen.
“Alastor!” you laugh, turning to him in bewilderment, “Call your minions off; seriously I can clean all of this up myself.” But the Radio Demon merely waved a hand to you as he rose from his seat.
“Don’t bother arguing with me my dear,” he sassed, “You’ve done more than enough tonight; consider this my way of thanking you for a marvelous feast.” 
You sighed at him, slightly annoyed. But you had to admit, you were grateful for his help. Today had surprisingly taken its toll on you, physically and emotionally, and you were so tired from it all. You smiled up at him, rocking back and forth on your feet sheepishly.
“... Thank you Al. Honestly.” you paused for a moment, thinking about everything he had done for you in the month you’d been here. And asking for nothing in return. It was out of character for him.
“I just…” you sighed, making Alastor tilt his head quizzically to you. “I just want to say I’m thankful for everything you’ve done for me. You gave me this job, helped me settle in and feel comfortable, and because of it all I even got to make new friends…” You saw Alastors eyes narrow for a moment and you had to bite back the knowing grin. You cleared your throat and continued.
“But I hope you know,” you hummed, “that I’ll always consider you my first real friend down here. And that I’m really grateful to have been given this chance to get close to you.”
Alastor looked at you long and hard for a moment, the air between you calm and quiet. His static sound shuffled for a second before he finally straightened his back and stood taller, his lips pressed together into a large smile. The red demon glided over to you, and softly patted your head, shaking his head in amusement.
“Ohhh y/n, y/n, y/n,” he sighed, opening his eyes and quirking an eyebrow, “I do often wonder how someone like yourself ended up down here.” Now it was your turn to cock an eyebrow as you gave him a cheeky smile.
“Al, you know exactly how I got down here.”
“Ah, that’s right.” A chuckle escaped his lips, and you knew for a fact he still found your death thoroughly entertaining. “By the way, you didn’t happen to sneak anything into our meal today, now did you~?” He gave you an impish grin. You burst out laughing.
“You asshole!” you guffawed, shoving his hand on your head away playfully, to which the demon snickered evilly. As your laughter simmered down, looked at you a moment before tilting his head up, eyes closed.
“I still stand by my previous statement,” he mused. “The type of folks in this realm are not worthy of such kindness. You should be careful as to whom you trust around here.” He opened his eyes, and his crimson gaze fell to yours. His expression shifted into a serious one at his last statement, making your grin falter for a moment. But only for a moment. 
“Well, it’s a good thing I have you around then, isn’t it?” You smiled, taking a step towards him.
Alastors gaze widened a moment, his eyes flickering over your face. It wasn’t often that you caught the Radio Demon off guard, but the rare moments when you did, you couldn’t help but feel a little pride. Finally, Alastor began to chuckle, shaking his head at you again. After taking a breath, he looked back down at you, a surprising fondness donning his face.
“Hmmm, I suppose it is~”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
..... Alastor doesn't like to share ¬‿¬ Fun fact: Angel like's to give you food-related nicknames. Baby Cakes, Sugar, Puddin', Honey Bunz, ect.
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sopuu · 1 year
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I was wondering if you have any tips for your perspectives? i dont really know how to do them that well but it seems you have a great handle on them! Btw I love your art! its soft and happy, I really love your stuff :D
thank you sm!! i love hearing that my art looks happy it's such a nice description 🥺
and for the tips! you've probably heard of vanishing points and horizon lines a bunch of times so i'll try to just give a quick run down of how i understand them + their uses
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[2024 edit: just wanted to clarify that this third pic isn’t like a definite rule (none of these are tbf)- the horizon line can be placed at the top and still be close to the ground if you draw the grid right, same goes vice versa!]
tbh once you get the idea of how they work it gets easier to figure out where the points should be. it might help to think that the subject is what determines where the points are instead of the other way round if that makes sense? i learned a lot just by looking at storyboards for fun bc they're everywhere in them jhfkdg
also these grids aren't restricted to being only for the walls or the floor of a room- you can rotate it, put them anywhere you think you might need clarification on where the space around them is etc. just use as many as you need for whatever you need
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having multiple grids (like ^ where its above and below the character) especially close together narrows the focus to what's in the middle of them as well!
another way to do this is to think of the subjects being in a box and looking at them from an angle-
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and if you want you can break them down to simpler 3D or 2D shapes to see which parts have to get smaller
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if you were looking for more perspectives on poses i talk about it a little at the end here
i hope this was clear enough! it's a bit hard to explain but once i learned not to be too hung up on accuracy (ofc to an appropriate degree) and freehanded the grids it makes it a lot more fun to play around with :)
also take everything i say with a grain of salt bc i too am still learning 👍
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