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lycorogue · 1 year ago

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Meet My OCs: Artie (Part 1 - Background)

WAAAAAAY back in May of 2019, I thought it would be fun to introduce my OCs to the world. I had created the Meet My OCs series with the intent to add to it every (other?) Sunday. I got to July of that year (but 11 posts... yay!) before I fell off the wagon for that project.

Well, this morning, I was suddenly struck with this urge to introduce you to one of my OCs again: Artie.

Poor Artie wasn't included when I first listed off my OCs (neither was Willow's brother Shawn... whoops!). For Artie, it was mainly because I was focused on the OCs I created for either my fantasy world Gyateara, or my X-Men-inspired cyberpunk-lite story Glitches. Artie fits in neither category.

(Along those lines, I have four other D&D characters, and 2 wholly original story OCs that should be added to that already 14-deep list of OCs....)

ANYWHO!

Who's ready to meet Artie?

Birth of Artie: GaiaOnline

Somewhere between 2008 and 2010 (I think), back when I used to frequent GaiaOnline, I was invited to a play-by-post roleplay game using one of GaiaOnline's private forum set-ups.

My husband's (then fiancé) friend had come up with this intriguing sci-fi/steampunk-Western setting. Much like in the anime Trigun/Trigun Stampede, humanity was forced to settle on a hostile planet. The area humanity was forced to colonize was a large dust bowl/desert (I can't remember which), and it was unknown if the whole planet was that way or if humanity was just unfortunate when they crash landed. No explorers in search to find out have returned. Also, for some unknown reason, humans no longer live past 25, and most die before they are even 20. The children all seem healthy, but as soon as someone turns 16 their health starts deteriorating (the adults that had crash-landed all died off quickly via a plague that didn't affect the children). This has caused the colony to become more steampunk in nature since the adults died before passing on knowledge of the technology they brought with them, and the kids are kind of reverse-engineering off of the starship's remains. But even then, they have to quickly pass what knowledge they've discovered down before they too die. Teens, out of necessity, started procreating and raising their own families in an attempt to keep the population from dying off. Children are "wise beyond their years" as they hit "adulthood" more-or-less at the age of 10.

This is the world where Artie was birthed.

Artie's full name is Artemis. They're AFAB. However, Artie picked up pretty quickly on the systemic misogyny still inherent in their society. Wearing masculine/gender-neutral clothes like simple cotton shirts, jeans, and work boots just made life easier to navigate anyway. They then shortened their name from Artemis to Artie, and kept their hair short (which is again convenient anyway when dealing with a sandy/dusty/wind-ravaged land). Some of the kids began confusing Artie for a boy, and Artie noticed that they were respected more, given more opportunities, listened to more, and didn't have their intelligence questioned. Finding life easier if they presented male, they ran with it. It never really mattered to them anyway if people thought they were female or male (think Haruhi from the anime Ouran High School Host Club).

Then Artie realized there were benefits to presenting female as well. Females were allowed to like cute things or cry or feel uncomfortable if presented with something unpleasant. Girls could be "emotional" and want/give hugs. No one made fun of females if they asked for assistance with something or if they got scared or wanted to sleep with a stuffed animal or special blanket. They could be sentimental.

Artie started "switching" between presenting male or female to reap the benefits of both genders. They rarely presented as both genders to the same person though. If you knew them as male, they were always male. If you knew them as female, they were always female around you.

(I'm cisgender... can you tell? I apologize if this is a terrible misrepresentation of being genderqueer. I'm still learning and Artie is still evolving as a character. This is just how they formed in my head way back in the early 00's. If you have any suggestions, I am very much open to them. My Asks are open. Thanks in advance!)

For the Gaia roleplay, Artie was kind of a loner. They made themselves a hammock in the rafters of the large warehouse-sized barn the colony lived within. They created a secret hide-away in the wall by their hammock where they hid their prized possessions (I have no recollection as to what those items were, but they could all fit within a size 15 shoe box). They didn't really have friends within the colony, but they got along with the livestock. They also had a pet alien bug (about the size of a corgi, with a bunch of stubby legs like a caterpillar) that they would bring into the greenhouse every night to help fertilize the fields before releasing them back into the wild during the day.

Artie was an engineering apprentice. Their job was mostly maintenance throughout the colony while slowly learning about the tech the teens were able to sort out/reverse-engineer off of the spaceship.

Sadly, the roleplay didn't last long before it fell through.

Artie's Revival: Dread

Artie then sat dormant until 2016. Another of Hubby's friends introduced us to the horror-survival game Dread. The concept of players pulling Jenga blocks from the tower (instead of the standard dice rolls) to determine the success of the action they took intrigued us. Then, our friend sent us a 40-question questionnaire for our characters. Based on the character class we picked, we were supposed to answer a set-number of questions within the questionnaire.

I was drawn to the character class "waif":

Never innocent yet always without a lick of evidence against you, the life of the ‘meek’ is made easier by your naïve appearance. Something about you makes everyone want to help you. You take what you want, and no one is the wiser. The pockets of some faceless person left you with a strange necklace. Every effort to pawn it has left you with a strange feeling, like it doesn’t want to leave you. The last town you were in grew wise, however. Jumping into the back of the nearest semi, you fell asleep and waited hours until it creaked to a stop. The welcoming sight of a motel and diner should make you feel better, but the knowing look of a stranger already has you on edge…

Artie shouted in the back of my mind, and I knew this was my chance to revive them!

Picking "waif" as my character class, I was given the following questions from the questionnaire to answer:

1. What mental illness runs in your family? 2. What do you do for a living? 3. Where did you grow up? 7. What is your favorite game? 13. How old were you when you learned you could predict horse races consistently? 19. Why were you named after your cousin instead of your grandparent? 31. What made you think you could get away with it, and how in the world did you? 33. What is the recurring dream and why does it frighten you? 35. What addiction do you hide from your friends? 36. What can you do that most other people you know can’t? 37. When all else is quiet, how do you silence the screaming in your head? 39. Why is next month big for you? 40. What unusual hobby do you have?

For this game, I had aged Artie up to 14, turning 15 within the next month. Artie also still identified as female, but kept the original character build of presenting male to make life easier on herself. People were less inclined to interact with a teen boy living on the streets than they were with a homeless teen girl. Others were more inclined to take a teen boy seriously than a teen girl. People were less likely to try to "white knight" a teen boy than a teen girl. Etc.

I'll admit, I largely based this redesign of Artie off of the character Jack from the movie Pitch Black.

This Artie grew up in Detroit with a drug-addicted mother and alcoholic abusive father. She never knew her paternal grandfather who died from ODing when he was 50. Fearful of having the same addictive personality, she's avoided drugs and alcohol, but has instead become addicted to arson. She's careful to not intentionally harm any living beings, but she gets an itch to start a fire if the opportunities arise, even if the result would be devastating (property wise or legality wise).

For the Dread version of Artie, Artemis was a family name. Her dad's side of the family is at least part Greek, and it's tradition that the first-born girl of each generation is named Artemis. Both Artie's dad and his brother were expecting daughters at roughly the same time (the first females born to the family in three generations). Artie's cousin was born almost a month premature. She was named Artemis, but tragically died before Artie was born. Since that generation's 'Artemis' had passed away anyway, Artie's father had 'Artemis' put on her birth certificate before his brother or sister-in-law could protest.

While Gaia!Artie did connect more with animals than humans, Dread!Artie has an almost supernatural bond with animals. She described herself as "some weirdo Snow White or something." She can just TELL what animals want/need, and they feel comfortable with her. Even wild animals gravitate to her. Deer will get as close as ten feet from her. Crows will bring her shiny things in exchange for food. Squirrels will eat from her hand. Feral cats frequently come to her for food and cuddles/pets. Dogs practically break their leashes to reach her. This is how she was able to accurately predict horse races. Much like Anne-Marie from the movie All Dogs Go to Heaven, Artie could sort out how each horse felt leading into any given race, and predict the winner from that. She was seven when her father stumbled upon this gift, and he forced her to skip so much school (so they could "play the ponies") that she actually flunked out of 2nd grade due to poor attendance.

One night, in a drunken rage, Artie's father killed her mother. In retaliation, Artie struck her father in the head with a hammer, and then burnt their home down to try to bury her past and hide the evidence (not that it mattered, she knew she could claim "self defense"... plus she was nine, so she was pretty positive no one would convict her).

Artie was basically a "rogue" to survive: she'd panhandle, pickpocket, con, and commit breaking-and-entering.

Her favorite activities are card games and pro-level yo-yo tricks (I even had Artie utilize the yo-yo as a weapon back in Aug 2016... only to discover the show Miraculous Ladybug - in which the main character uses a yo-yo as a magical weapon - in July 2017!). Cards and yo-yo are mostly her preferred because 1) they're fun (duh), 2) they are easy to carry around, and 3) they're versatile (many different card games; many different yo-yo tricks to try out; both can be used to entertain/swindle/bludgeon people out of their money).

Finally, the nightmare that haunts her is one where she and her parents are being chased by demons, are killed, and revived as demons themselves. (It's more involved than that, but this is already an epic-length post....)

In another tragic twist for poor Artie, the Dread game fell through before it even started. The players all filled out our character questionnaires. Then none of us were available at the same time. Eventually the friend who wanted to run the game moved away.

Artie fell dormant again.

And, with that. I'll end Part 1. This is already stupid long anyway. I'll catch you in Part 2, where I talk about Story-less Artie, and introduce their appearance.

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orphancookie69 · 2 years ago

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Nintendo Switch: Monster Hunter Rise

Monster Hunter Rise, the newest version of a game that is new to me but not new to the world. My former BFF from highschool plays it way too much, thank you nintendo for letting us see how much our friends play each game. My former BFF just started playing it, I think to twitch? My sister played it on PS4 with a group of people who called her “The Tank”. I thought, it might be time to try it.

Set in the ninja-inspired land of Kamura Village, explore lush ecosystems and battle fearsome monsters to become the ultimate hunter. It’s been half a century since the last calamity struck, but a terrifying new monster has reared its head and threatens to plunge the land into chaos once again. More info: https://www.nintendo.com/store/products/monster-hunter-rise-switch/

My Thoughts On The Game:

I decided, with current Black Friday specials, that at $20 the game is worth trying, and to boot there is a demo! There is a DLC too, and the bundle is also on sale for $40 if I remember right. (At the time of posting this, the game is most likely back to full price). Watching my sister play, it is very japanese forest camp...which shocked me for some reason, but I thought maybe the folklore is where they get some of the monsters from? Doing the demo, you get a castle on the sea for the main image. How the hell does one have to do with the other? Maybe with the story if you play it out?

Now I have to start a new paragraph for this, follow me this is a bit of a rant. So, my sister has played previous versions and showed me her playing the current game. So I had some idea of how it worked, other than the remote being in my hand. I did the demo, and did a “beginner” round before the tutorial...thinking I could get a hang of the buttons on my way to the monster I was hunting. You have 9 faint attempts, and I got through about half of them before wanting to rage quit. I somehow figured out how to get out to the menu, and tried the tutorial, and it did not show me anything I did not already know?

This game, from what I know of it, has been the same very hard way for most releases. The most previous release of the game from 5 years ago was more for “western audiences” and is called Monster Hunter World. With Monster Hunter Rise, they went back to “normal” form. I get I may not be very good at this game the first time I play, but I had an idea of what to do and its not my first game I have ever played. But to play and basically have my arse whooped even if I hit all the buttons right, seems crazy to me. I was (half) joking when I told my sister that it seems that this game would appeal to people who like being dominated. No shame to those that have that like, but it is definitely not for everyone.

Since I saw this game on sale, I was going to try it for the “sale price” and if I liked it, buy the DLC when it went on sale after playing. Because I saw a demo, I thought I would try it before I buy. Man am I glad I did, my sister who did spend money on both Game/DLC feels like she should play it to justify her cost but not because she wants to? I know for me, this will be just like Need For Speed. I loved Hot Pursuit style but not the Underground style, and Hot Pursuit did not do well for the game maker. But they rebooted HP for switch and I bought the game twice (once for switch and xbox). I actually plan to look into Monster Hunter World for Xbox and may make a post about that in the future. The idea of a game so simple in idea (that all one does is hunt and get better at hunting, not unlike COD) yet so complex at the same time, is very appealing. But, from my own personal opinion, not played out well in this game.

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engie-ivy · 3 years ago

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Famous Actor Remus Lupin and Famous Singer Sirius Black, Wolfstar Getting Back Together with a Happy Ending!

Read Part Two here

How It Was With You

“Good evening, and welcome to Celebrity Insights, the show where we give you an insight into the lives of your favourite celebrities!” The pretty hostess beams into the camera. “I am here with one of the biggest actors of the moment, and one of the stars from the most-anticipated film of this season, Mary McDonald’s latest work Wanderings with Werewolves, none other than Gilderoy Lockhart!”

People cheer, and Gilderoy Lockhart throws his thick, wavy hair back with a flourish, while giving a practiced wave to the audience.

“I must say, it’s an honour to have you here, Mr Lockhart!”

“It is,” Gilderoy confirms. “But please Marlene, call me Gilderoy.”

Marlene chuckles. “Alright then, Gilderoy. First we need to talk about your new film! Mary McDonald is known to be very demanding of her actors, requiring them to give each character a deeper layer. Was this challenging for you?”

Gilderoy laughs. “I can imagine it might be challenging for some actors, but for me, it just comes natural. So no, I can’t say I found it challenging.”

Remus snorts as he stuffs another piece of chocolate into his mouth, sitting cross-legged on his hotel bed in front of the telly. The guy had nearly driven Mary to despair! While Mary had tried to keep reporters and fans away from the set, Gilderoy had cared more about having his picture taken and handing out autographs than getting into character. Remus had managed to convince him to practice lines with him, but only by swallowing his pride and stroking Gilderoy’s ego by making him think Remus needed his help.

“Well Gilderoy,” Marlene says with a cheeky smile. “There is of course one thing we need to talk about...”

“Alright, I’ll say it!” Gilderoy laughs. “Yes, these really are my real teeth.” He gives the audience a toothy smile. Only a few people cheer.

“That’s... lovely,” Marlene says. “But not what I meant. We need to talk about your on-screen romance with Remus Lupin turning into an off-screen romance!”

The audience whoops and whistles.

“So tell us everything! How did you two got together?”

“As it turns out,” Gilderoy begins. “Remus has always been a huge fan of mine. When I arrived at the set, poor guy was totally star-struck. But I did what I could to make him feel at ease, and even helped him with his acting, and eventually he gathered up the courage to ask me out, and I thought, why not?”

Remus groans into his pillow. Of course. Of bloody course he was going to paint Remus as some lovesick schoolboy gushing over him! Remus had wanted to come up with a story together in advance, but Gilderoy had said “While some actors may need lines for everything, the more naturally gifted ones can improvise.” He had told Remus not to worry, to just watch tonight’s live show, and stick to the story he would come up with.

Marlene laughs awkwardly. “I’m sure you must’ve thought something more than ‘why not’? I mean, it’s Remus Lupin! The hottest actor of the moment, widely acclaimed by film critics, and overall fan favourite! I can imagine you were ecstatic!”

“Right,” Gilderoy says. “Of course, it’s nice to date a fellow actor. It’s in my nature to help others when I can, and I don’t mind imparting my wisdom, so to say. Remus was very grateful for my advice, and you could tell I made his performance better.”

“It’s not like he was struggling before,” Marlene says, trying to keep her tone light. “He has already won two Oscars, after all.”

“Well, he has always admired my work,” Gilderoy smiles. “I’ve always been an example to him when it comes to acting. Did you know his Oscar-winning performances were actually inspired by me?”

“And yet, you’ve never won an Oscar yourself,” Marlene says sweetly.

Gasps can be heard from the audience, and Gilderoy’s face flushes in anger.

Marlene blinks, seemingly startled by her nasty reaction herself. She’s not afraid to ask the tough questions, but her show prizes itself on always keeping a friendly vibe and making the guests feel at ease. “Eh, right. Let’s... Let’s go to some questions from the audience! Yes, you love! What would you like to know?”

A girl in the audience gets up, and Remus groans. She’s wearing a Mischief Managed shirt, and Remus already knows what she’s going to ask.

“Hello Mr Lockhart! I was just wondering, how do feel about Remus being Sirius Black’s ex?”

Someone was bound to bring up Sirius. He and Remus had been society’s it-couple. The most beloved actor of the moment, with his dazzling smile, warm eyes and angelic-like beauty, and the best musician of the moment, with his undeniable sex-appeal, bad boy appearance, but heart of gold. People had loved them together, had been obsessed with them, and many still hadn’t accepted the break-up. Remus can relate.

Gilderoy ostentatiously rolls his eyes. There might be some spite there. “I don’t care,” he says in a haughty tone. “If anything, it makes me think it must be quite an improvement for him to be with someone on my level. If he was dating some ignorant rock star before, he must be very happy to be with someone with some substance.”

“Booooo!” Remus throws a pillow at the TV, which only results in making his hotel bed less comfortable. By the sound of it, the audience seems to agree with his sentiment, only they have no pillows to throw. Remus gets that it’s no fun to be compared to someone’s ex-boyfriend, especially when that ex-boyfriend is bloody Sirius Black, but Gilderoy doesn’t have to go and talk shite about Sirius!

“Ignorant?” Marlene raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “Sirius Black has never struck me as ignorant. He’s never afraid to voice his political opinions, and even in his music, he sometimes addresses quite heavy themes. And if you listen to Lie Low with You, the lyrics are so deep and profound...”

The song Sirius has written about the break-up is his greatest hit so far, topping the charts all over the world. The song is constantly being played on all radio stations. And isn’t that just splendid? What could be more fun than hearing the song your hot and famous ex-boyfriend, who you’re quite possibly still very much in love with, wrote about your break-up every-bloody-where you go?

The song isn’t nasty. It’s heart-wrenchingly beautiful, not nasty. The break-up wasn’t nasty. There was no arguing, no fighting, no shouting, not even simply falling out of love. They broke up because of practical reasons. And somehow, that makes it even worse.

When they met, Sirius had just finished his American tour, and was searching for inspiration for new music, and Remus had just wrapped up filming, and had decided to give himself a break. They had all the time to just be together. But then life came and disturbed their precious little bubble where nothing else existed but each other.

Sirius’ management was pressuring him to do an European tour, and Remus got casted in Mary McDonald’s new film. It’s hard to be in a long-distance relationship. It’s extremely hard, if not impossible, to be in a long-distance relationship when you have no idea when you’ll be able to see each other again, when you’re both so busy you’ll barely have time to even call, when you’re constantly surrounded by reporters who’d love to stir up any drama between you and people throwing themselves at you wanting your relationship to fall apart. The memories of their time together were so good, they didn’t want them to be tainted by inevitable miscommunications, suspicions, and false accusations. No, better to end it before it went sour.

So they did the smart thing and it was all for the best. Well, if you ignore the fact that Remus is still desperately in love with Sirius, and feels like he’s been walking around with only half of his heart these last months, that is.

Gilderoy looks thoroughly unimpressed with Marlene’s defence of Sirius. “If you say so,” he says in a slightly mocking tone. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t listen to his music. My taste is more... refined than that.”

“I must say, I admire your confidence,” Marlene laughs, in an attempt to lighten the mood. “I honestly don’t know if I could be so calm about it if I were dating someone whose ex is widely considered to be the most eligible bachelor, and who has been voted Sexiest Man Alive three times in a row!”

The audience laughs as well, but Gilderoy’s expression darkens. The spite in his expression is now evidently clear, and that can’t be good. “Black is no competition,” he says firmly. “At all. Whatever he and Remus had, it was never real. Remus told me himself that sure, Black was nice to look at, but nothing more, and he quickly grew bored of him. There was nothing meaningful between them.”

Remus can only shake his head in stunned disbelief at the blatant lie.

Marlene frowns. “That’s... contrary to everything we saw of them when they were together.”

“Oh, yes,” Gilderoy says, really getting into it now. “It all looked great on camera, but that were all appearances. There were no real feelings, believe me. Remus just couldn’t connect with Black. Remus told me that, at times, Black had quite a temper, and the rest of the time he was just detached. Like someone who was, say, under the influence of drugs and alcohol.”

Marlene’s jaw tightens. “Those are dangerous insinuations, especially when uncalled for and unfounded. We will not make such insinuations in this programme.”

Gilderoy laughs and holds up his hands. “I’m not insinuation anything! Just making an observation. Like how it’s also an observation addiction runs in the family for Black.”

Remus is seething. How dare he! Remus can and will deny it a thousand times if he must, but it has been said, and the implication will linger.

Sirius grew up with an alcoholic, violent father, and his younger brother nearly died of an overdose just last year. Sirius hates drugs and alcohol, and won’t touch them!

Gilderoy has to wait before he can continue, due to the loud booing coming from the audience. “Anyway,” he says airily, throwing his blond hair back. “Remus says Black can’t hold a candle to me, and he’s just happy to be with a real man, who knows how to satisfy him,” he adds with a wink.

Remus wants to gag and laugh at the same time. Gag because, gross. And laugh at the idea that Sirius wouldn’t have satisfied him. If he just thinks back on those nights with their bodies intertwined while nothing else existed...

Remus is pulled away from his thoughts by his phone ringing. His private phone only a few people use, which means it must be Lily, his PR manager, to yell at him for saddling her with this PR nightmare of Gilderoy painting him as an arse-kissing twat who talks shite about his ex.

He starts pacing the hotel room, to release some of his frustration, while he picks up the phone. “I swear, I had no idea what that fucker was going to say!”

“Never real?!” The voice on the other end of the line asks incredulously.

Remus stops in his tracks upon hearing that voice. While he’s been hearing that voice in every car, every store, every bar he’s been in these last weeks, it still feels like he hasn’t heard it in forever. “Sirius...”

“Nothing meaningful? What the hell, Remus?”

Remus feels something warm swell in his chest at hearing that, despite all the shite Gilderoy said about him, it’s the suggestion that their relationship wouldn’t be real that’s making Sirius angry. “Look, Sirius,” Remus says, running a hand through his hair. “I swear to god, I never said any of those things! That pretentious stuck up bastard made it all up himself.”

“You and your boyfriend have some weird pet names,” Sirius replies.

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

Even though Remus can’t see Sirius, he can just picture him arching an eyebrow. “You might want to inform him of that.”

“It’s a fake relationship,” Remus explains. “His management contacted me, saying how it would be good for both our media coverages, and great publicity for Mary’s work... You know how these things go.”

“I thought you hated that kind of fakery?” There’s disapproval in his voice, yes, but Remus also thinks his voice sounds somehow lighter, though that might be just his imagination.

“Well, as it turns out, I hate it even more to be constantly bombarded with questions about my love life and...” Remus doesn’t finish his sentence, but the word ‘you’ hangs heavily in the air.

The reporters really had been awful.

‘Remus, why did you and Sirius break up?’

‘Mr Lupin, do you think your relationship with Mr Black was a mistake?’

‘Is it true you and Sirius Black were engaged before you broke up?’

‘Remus, do you agree with the speculations that the entire ‘Moonless Nights’-album was written about you?’

“What do you make of Sirius Black being spotted with Fabian Prewett, Remus?’

Each question made Remus want to rip his heart out. Remus had tried to do it the proper way. He had placed himself in a vulnerable position and made a statement saying that he was going through a difficult time, and needed space to heal, and requested the reporters to give him that space. They didn’t.

Remus doesn’t feel bad about feeding the reporters a fake story, as they blatantly ignored his mental health to get their headlines. Questions like ‘Is it true that you had a thousand flowers delivered on set to win Gilderoy Lockhart over?’ ‘Were you and Gilderoy already together before you started filming?’ ‘Are those Gilderoy’s real teeth?’ make Remus want to puke, but that’s a hell of a lot better than ripping his heart out.

“Yeah, it was hard to be constantly confronted with it,” Sirius agrees. “In hindsight, writing that song about our break-up that’s constantly following me around might not have been such a good idea either.”

Remus snorts. “You think?” Then he sighs. “I’m going to end the pretend-relationship with Gilderoy anyway. Even fake, I don’t want to be with someone who would say those things.”

“You shouldn’t be!” Sirius says firmly. “He was totally belittling you and your career!”

The warm feeling is back. Gilderoy basically called Sirius an ignorant drug-addict, and here he is, angry that Gilderoy wasn’t respectful enough towards Remus. God, he loves this man. Oh god, he loves this man.

After a moment of silence, Sirius asks “It was real, right?” and there’s a rare vulnerability in his voice.

“Do you even doubt it?” Remus asks quietly.

“Well, I have it on good authority you’re quite a decent actor,” Sirius laughs, but Remus can hear the anxiety in his voice.

“It was never an act with you, Sirius.”

Sirius lets out a shaky breath. “It was the realest damned thing I’ve ever had in my life.”

Remus swallow against the lump in his throat. “You were the one real thing in a world full of fakery.”

“Do you...” Sirius begins hesitantly. “Do you think that maybe we’ve... made a mistake?”

YES! Remus’ mind screams. YES, YES, YES!

“I don’t know,” he says carefully. “I suppose we had valid reasons at the time...”

“It just seems a bit silly now,” Sirius says. “Ending it because we didn’t want to end up unhappy, and what did that result in?”

“Are you unhappy, Sirius?” Remus asks quietly.

“I just... miss you so damned much, Remus.”

“Me too.” Remus’ voice breaks. “I miss you too.”

Both of them fall silent again, except for the ragged breaths while they try to control their emotions.

“I could get on a plane,” Sirius suddenly says. “I’m in America at the moment. I don’t have any performances planned for the weekend, only some interviews, which I can by video call. I could get on a plane and be with you.”

Remus opens and closes his mouth, his mind racing. “I don’t want you to get on a plane,” he eventually says. “If it’s only for the weekend. If you do get on that plane, I want us to actually try this time. You and me, giving it a real chance. Otherwise, please don’t bother.”

From Marlene McKinnon:

Rem, I don’t know Gilderoy very well, and I don’t want to be judgemental of your relationship, but I need you to know that I almost punched your boyfriend in the face on live TV.

From Lily Evans:

Well, that was a train wreck. I’ll drop by tomorrow so we can talk about what to do, and what statement you want to put out. And Remmie, don’t worry too much, okay? It reflects worse on him than it does on you.

Gilderoy Lockhart Finally Talks about Something Other than Himself, and We Kinda Wish He Hadn’t...

“Sirius Black is a Drug-Addict and Remus Lupin Never Had Feelings for Him”: Why Lockhart is Facing Backlash for his Latest Interview with McKinnon

Gilderoy Lockhart Claims Remus and Sirius Didn’t Love Each Other, Here Are 20 Pictures that Suggest Otherwise

Remus sends Marlene and Lily a quick reply, and scans through the headlines, feeling relieved that Lily seems to be right. He’s too anxious to really read any of the articles, however.

The smart thing to do is to text Sirius the name of his hotel, so that when his plane has landed (He must’ve gotten on the plane. Yes, he most likely got on the plane. But what if he didn’t get on the plane? Oh god, he didn’t get on the plane!), he can come to see Remus, and they can talk face-to-face about where they both stand and what they both want, without drawing too much attention. Yes, staying here and waiting for Sirius to arrive (If he arrives!) would definitely be the smart thing to do.

Ten minutes later, Remus is sitting in a cab on his way to the airport. Unsurprisingly, his arrival at the airport lobby causes quite a stir.

“Oh my god, is that-?”

“Yes, yes, it is!”

“Is that really Remus Lupin?”

“It has to be! Who else has eyes like that?”

“I can’t believe I’m in the same room as Remus Lupin! I can’t believe I’m breathing the same air as Remus Lupin!”

“I hope he’s fleeing the country after saying those things about Sirius Black!”

“I hope he’s fleeing the country to get away from Gilderoy Lockhart as far as possible!”

“He’s so beautiful, it hurts my eyes!”

“I don’t think that’s biologically possible.”

“Do you know what’s not biologically possible? To be that beautiful!”

“His hair looks so soft, I just wanna run my fingers through it!”

“Great. You can immediately get his autograph on you restraining order.”

Remus ignores the buzz of voices around him, and searches the crowd, getting more anxious by the minute. Suddenly, he sees a man standing near the end of the hall. He’s wearing sweatpants and a hoodie with the hood pulled up, covering his hair and obscuring most of his face, but Remus recognizes his slightly too upright posture, that he never quite learned to shake from his upbringing, and the way he’s opening and closing his hands, which he always does when he’s nervous. When his eyes meet Remus’, he knows for sure.

Remus starts to run. Well, he is an actor, after all, and he does have a taste for the cinematic dramatics. He throws himself into Sirius’ arms and Sirius hugs him tight.

“Sirius,” he whispers.

“I got you,” Sirius speaks against his hair. “I got you, and I’m never letting you go again.”

When Remus pulls back slightly to look Sirius in the eyes, he’s vaguely aware of talking all around him and the clicking and flashing of cameras, but his attention is mostly drawn to those silver-grey eyes, with a sparkle that hadn’t been there all those times he saw them on a television screen these last months. “You came.”

“Of course I came,” Sirius smiles. “How could I not? I love you.”

“I love you too,” Remus says, and the words come easy as he pulls Sirius into a kiss.

The situation with Gilderoy is still a mess, and being spotted kissing his hopefully-no-longer-ex-boyfriend in public will only make it worse, but he can’t bring himself to care.

It’ll be okay. They’ll be okay.

Part Two

#my tumblr writing #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #actor remus lupin #singer sirius black #gilderoy lockhart

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anonymousewrites · 2 years ago

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There's a Beauty; There's a Beast Chapter Three

Chapter Three: Dinner Guest

Back in the village, a large group of citizens were in the bar. Fyodor sat by the fire, plotting in slight dejection at having once again be rejected by (Y/N).

“All I desire is to have her as my wife…the whole town at our feet…” said Fyodor. “I could get her whatever power she wished. But she says ‘I’m not interested in marriage.’ ”

“You know…there are other people,” said Sigma warily. An angry Fyodor was an even-more-dangerous-than-usual Fyodor. Although Sigma pitied (Y/N) for her situation as Fyodor’s obsession, he didn’t want to get on the strategist’s bad side.

“I don’t waste my time on sinners whose intelligence is far beneath my own,” said Fyodor.

(Sigma) “Gosh, it disturbs me to see you, Fyodor, Looking so down in the dumps,”

Fyodor huffed and continued his chess game against himself, nearly slamming the pieces down. He may control his face, but small pieces of emotion slipped out in certain ways.

(Sigma) “Every guy here’d love to be you, Fyodor, Even when taking your lumps, There’s no man in town as admired as you, You’re everyone’s favorite guy, Everyone’s awed and inspired by you, And it’s not very hard to see why.”

Sigma stepped up onto a table as the band struck up.

(Sigma) “No one’s slick as Fyodor, No one’s quick as Fyodor, No one’s words are diplomatic as Fyodor’s, For there’s no man in town half as clever!”

Fyodor couldn’t help an arrogant smirked and looked up.

(Ivan and Gogol) “Perfect, a pure paragon!” (Sigma) “You can ask any Alexander or Kamui, And they’d tell whose team they prefer to be on, Who plays…”

Sigma gestured.

(Villagers) “Darts like Fyodor?!” (Sigma) “Who breaks…” (Villagers) “Hearts like Fyodor?!” (Sigma) “Who’s much more than the sum of his parts like Fyodor?!”

Fyodor smirked.

(Fyodor) “As a strategist, yes, I’m intimidating!” (Villagers) “My, what a guy, that Fyodor!”

Fyodor stood.

(Fyodor) “I needed encouragement, Thank you, Sigma!” (Sigma) “Well, you only let me speak to help you!”

He paused. “Too much?”

“Yes,” hissed Fyodor, standing up.

Wincing, Sigma motioned to the bar.

(Villagers) “No one fights like Fyodor, No one smites like Fyodor, In a battle nobody spites like Fyodor!” (Fyodor) “When I battled, I made a clev’r plan, And the enemy turn’d and ran,”

He strutted across the table.

(Fyodor) “First, I carefully aimed for their weakness, Using those for whom they cared.” (Sigma) “Is that fair?” (Fyodor) “I don’t care.”

He smirked and threw a throwing knife into the ceiling.

(Villagers) “No one hits like Fyodor, Matches wits like Fyodor!” (Sigma) “In a chess match, no one plays chess like Fyodor!”

He moved one piece on the board.

(Fyodor) “I’m especially good at checkmating!”

The raven-haired man made a single move and finished the game.

(Villagers) “And the game goes to Fyodor!”

He smirked at the reverent attention.

(Fyodor) “When I was a boy, I read four dozen books, Every month to help me get smart, And now that I’m grown, I read five dozen books, So my IQ’s over two~o hundred!”

Ivan and Gogol clapped enthusiastically. Sigma began clapping rhythmically. The villagers joined.

(Villagers) “Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!”

Multiple men playfully brought out swords and tried to take down Fyodor, but he easily deflected, then interrupted a game of shogi and won the game. The villagers cheered. Gogol whooped gleefully while Ivan blushed and fanned himself. Sigma waved his hands.

(Sigma) “Who has brains… (Villagers) “Like Fyodor?!” (Sigma) “Entertains…” (Villagers) “Like Fyodor?!” (Fyodor) “Who gets to have these endless refrains like Fyodor?! I use intelligence in all of my strategizing!” (Villagers) “Say it again! Who’s a man among men? Who’s a super success? Don’t you know? Can’t you guess? Ask his fans and his five hangers-on, There’s just one guy in town, Who’s got all of it down!”

Sigma stood up proudly.

(Sigma) “And his names F-Y-O-D—”

He frowned.

(Sigma) “I believe there’s another ‘D,’ It just occurred to me that I’m illiterate, And I’ve never actually had to spell it out loud before…”

He took a deep breath before covering his blunder.

(Villagers) “Fyodor!”

The patrons of the bar cheered as they all twirled and danced back to their seats. Fyodor sat in his armchair and made the first move on a new chess game. His contemplation of his next move was interrupted as Fukuzawa pushed the bar door open and stumbled inside.

“Please, I require immediate help,” he said. “It’s (Y/N)! He has (Y/N) locked in a dungeon.”

“Who’s got her?” jeered a patron.

Fyodor listened intently. This was an interesting development.

“A beast,” said Fukuzawa. “A huge, cruel beast.”

The villagers snickered.

“My daughter’s life is in peril. This is not a joke,” he hissed seriously. “Deep in the woods, he has a castle. It is winter there.”

“Winter in June?” A patron rolled his eyes. “You’re insane.”

“Listen to me!” bellowed Fukuzawa. “I do not lie.” He glared at the village. “Will no one help?”

“I will.” Fyodor stood up from his chair.

It rather reminded the watchers of a snake rearing its head. Fukuzawa furrowed his brow.

“Everybody, stop belittling this man,” said Fyodor.

“Thank you,” said Fukuzawa politely.

“Don’t thank me. Lead me to this beast,” said Fyodor.

The villagers eyed each other in surprise at his daring. Ivan and Gogol nearly swooned. Sigma groaned at the idea of having to go into the dangerous woods. Fukuzawa turned and walked out of the bar. Fyodor swept his cloak on and followed with Sigma trailing after him.

“Is it true there’s a girl in the castle?” asked a small teacup decorated with red, orange, and creamy flowers.

A teapot that faded from white to pink nodded. “It is, Kyouka.”

“What kind of tea does she enjoy, Kouyou?” asked Kyouka.

“Well, we don’t know, so we’ll bring a new cup if she doesn’t enjoy what we give her,” said Kouyou.

“Heads up, Madame Kouyou,” said the stove, pouring hot water into her.

They heard the dining room doors banged open. Dazai walked in and sat at the table. He spied the extra set of tableware and furrowed his brow. He growled as his claws sank into the table. He stood up abruptly and ripped them out. Chunks of the table hit the floor. Footsteps came towards the kitchen door.

“A-Akutagawa!” stammered Atsushi, jumping behind him.

“This whole ‘hosting the girl’ thing was your idea,” hissed the clock. “If he’s angry about her dinner, then he should take that anger out on you.”

“That’s not nice…”

“Better you than me.”

Dazai stalked into the kitchen; his eyes shadowed. One wrong move could mean death. “You made her dinner.” The words were quiet, a statement, not a question. Most importantly, however, they were a warning.

“W-Well, she needs to eat…” stammered Atsushi.

“At my table?” Dazai scoffed. He might have been cursed for his pride, but it lingered like a plague on his soul. The idea of a peasant, the daughter of a thief, sitting at his table wasn’t something he reveled in.

“…Well, maybe you’d enjoy some company…?” suggested Atsushi weakly.

“You’re an idiot,” said Akutagawa. “You made dinner for her, designed a gown for her, gave her a suite. You made this bed, lie in it.”

“You gave her a bedroom?” growled Dazai, prowling around the table where the clock and candelabra stood.

“…Yes!” admitted Atsushi. “But if this girl is the one who can break the spell…maybe dinner with her isn’t such a bad idea?”

Dazai rolled his eyes. “Yes, because spending time with the girl who helped a thief go free is my idea of a wonderful evening.”

“She bravely helped her father,” said Atsushi. “Surely that isn’t so terrible…?”

Dazai frowned for a moment. He had to admit, her act of bravery was admirable. He may strut around like the supreme power of the land (which, in a way, he was, his title of Prince had never been stolen), but after the curse, he hid from the world, ashamed of what he had become. He was a coward.

“One dinner, one try,” said Atsushi. “We all need this. Every day we become less human. All of us, including you. We have a shot at a future. Please, Master…”

“Me? Love the peasant daughter of a thief?” Dazai snarled. “It has to be love going both ways. And I don’t think it’s going to happen on either of our parts.”

“You can’t judge people without knowing them,” warned Kouyou.

Dazai looked down. I don’t make the same mistake twice. “Fine. One dinner.” He turned and his coat billowed behind him as he swept out of the room.

Atsushi breathed a sigh of relief.

“I had hoped he’d kill you,” said Akutagawa.

Atsushi sweat-dropped.

(Y/N) jumped as someone banged on her door.

“You will join me for dinner,” said the Beast’s voice. “It’s not a request.”

Her eyebrow twitched at the entitlement dripping from his voice. She could also hear whispers, but she couldn’t make them out. (Y/N) just went back to work, pulling the train of sheets she’d tied together to the window. The Beast knocked on the door, softer this time.

“One moment,” she said. Can’t risk him finding out I’m escaping.

A moment passed before he spoke. “Will you…join me for dinner?”

Now, if these had been normal circumstances, (Y/N) would have been more inclined the second time to accept (she was hungry). But this was not a regular situation. Getting down from the windowsill, she walked over to the door.

“I’m your prisoner and you want to have dinner with me?” She scoffed. “Yeah, no thank you.”

Dazai growled. “I believe that you don’t have many options if you want food.”

“Threatening me won’t help you. I said no, and I don’t intend to rescind my decision. I’d starve before having dinner with you.”

Dazai huffed (half in annoyance, half in surprise at her boldness). “Well, then, who I am to stand in the way of your wishes? Go ahead and starve if you please.” He turned and faced Atsushi. “If she’s so set on not eating, don’t give her anything.” He stalked away down the corridor.

He ended up in the abandoned West Wing where the precious green rose stood in its glass case. The frost surrounded the room caused the plant to stand out with its emerald glow. Growling at the reminder of his dwindling humanity, Dazai looked away and picked up an ornate silver mirror.

“Show her to me, the girl,” said Dazai.

(Y/N)’s form appeared in the mirror. She was pacing her room nervously. Her eyes flitted about her new surroundings nervously. He didn’t know, but she was worried about whether or not she could escape from such a height without rest or food. What Dazai did know was that he didn’t like looking at the sadness he had caused. It reminded him of the monster he was. The monster he didn’t want to be. The image faded from the mirror, and Dazai placed it down. His eyes were drawn magnetically to the emerald rose. A petal fell. Dazai’s heart ached.

I don’t want to be a beast any longer.

In her suite, (Y/N) had gathered her courage and decided to go ahead with her plan. She tossed the remaining makeshift rope out the window. She took a deep breath and steeled herself. A gentle knock sounded at her door, and she whirled.

“I thought I made my decision clear,” said (Y/N) warily.

“I assure you, you’re in no danger,” said the smooth voice of a woman. “I am Kouyou.”

(Y/N) hesitated and stuffed the sheets to the side. “…Very well.”

The door opened, and rolling table came in carrying Kouyou the teapot and Kyouka the teacup.

“You are as lovely as I thought you’d be. Enchantée,” said Kouyou. She spied the tied sheets. “And as brave as I’d hoped. That’s a wonderful quality. But it’s a long way down. Before you go, let me at least fix you a cup of tea. It helps clear the head before facing struggles. Kyouka, if you would.” She poured some tea into Kyouka, who jumped down to the floor to (Y/N).

“I appreciate the offer, but I think I’d prefer my tea out of a nonliving cup if there is one,” said (Y/N).

“If you’re worried for me, I have no issue,” said the Kyouka.

“I’m sure you’re wonderful, but all the same,” said (Y/N).

Kouyou chuckled. “I’m sure we could find one for you in the kitchen.” She was quiet for a moment before looking at (Y/N). “You were so brave for trading punishment with you father. You deserve some sort of comfort. It’s the least I can do.”

Akira woke up suddenly. “I think she deserves some sort of reward for sticking it to Dazai.”

Kouyou sighed. “That’s Master Dazai, and if you continue to speak like that, he may destroy you.”

“Oh, please, his ego requires a singer to be ready to perform at any time,” said Akira. “And (Y/N) was incredible.”

(Y/N) smiled, but it was melancholy. “I’m glad I set my father free…but I’m worried about him. He’s alone…”

“I’m certain everything will work out in the end,” said Kouyou. “And as I said, a cup of tea clears the head. Or maybe some dinner would be better. It has been a long day, after all.”

(Y/N) cocked her head. “I though he said—?”

“ ‘If she’s so set on not eating, don’t give her anything?’ ” Akira chuckled. “He can be overdramatic.”

“And people say a lot of things they don’t really mean when angry,” said Kouyou. “It may seem…childish, but what are adults if not larger children? It is your choice whether or not to listen to their rash words.” She rolled towards the door on the table. “Would you like some dinner, then?”

“I’d go if I were you. The taste of the kitchen’s food is one thing I can still remember,” said Akira.

(Y/N)’s stomach growled. She sweat-dropped. I don’t think my body is going to give me a choice here…

Down in the dining room, Atsushi was hurrying the final preparations while Akutagawa alternated between dousing his spirits and reprimanding him. Currently, he was on the former.

“They’re never going to love each other,” he said.

“I think there’s a chance!” said Atsushi. “And that starts tonight by making her feel welcome!” He bounced over the tables. “Great job everyone! The cutlery is shining, and the food looks delicious!”

“Be quiet, I don’t want to be punished because I’m in here with you,” said Akutagawa.

“Come on, Akutagawa! A bright atmosphere filled with good food and music is exactly what is needed to help (Y/N) cheer up a little!” said Atsushi.

Akutagawa frowned. “Music?”

A piano walked into the room, and Atsushi greeted him warmly. “Maestro Chuuya! Are you ready?”

“This is a shitty idea,” said Chuuya. He settled down in the corner. “I don’t know why the hell I’d ever help that bastard Dazai. He doesn’t even pay me anymore.”

“Maestro, think of Akira. The curse is taking its toll on her as well,” said Atsushi. He looked down. “It gets harder for her to stay awake every day. She needs the curse to be broken as well.”

Chuuya huffed. “Fine, I’ll perform.”

“Just play quietly, we don’t need the Master angered,” grouched Akutagawa.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” snapped Chuuya. “If I’m going to play, I’m going to as loudly as I want.”

Akutagawa grumbled to himself as the dining room doors opened.

“Here we are, dear,” said Kouyou as she escorted (Y/N) into the room and to the table.

The young woman watched in wonder as Atsushi put on a display of food and music mixed into one. It was a true masterpiece.

(Atsushi) “Ma chere Mademoiselle, it is with deepest pride and greatest pleasure that we welcome you tonight. And now we invite you to relax, let us pull up a chair, as the dining room proudly presents - your dinner!”

The spotlight focused in on him.

(Atsushi) “Be our guest! Be our guest! Put our service to the test, Tie your napkin 'round your neck, Cherie, And we'll provide the rest, Soup du jour, Hot hors d'oeuvres, Why, we only live to serve, Try the grey stuff, It's delicious, Don't believe me? Ask the dishes, They can sing, they can dance, After all, Miss, this is France, And a dinner here is never second best, Go on, unfold your menu, Take a glance and then you'll be our guest, Oui, our guest, Be our guest! (Household) “Beef ragout, Cheese souffle, Pie and pudding ‘en flambe,’

(Y/N) marveled at the dishes being spread out before her and happily sampled anything that came close. For the first time since her father left, she smiled for the joy around her.

(Atsushi) “We'll prepare and serve with flair, A culinary cabaret! You're alone, And you're scared, But the banquet's all prepared, No one's gloomy or complaining, While the flatware's entertaining, We tell jokes! I do tricks, With my fellow candlesticks!” (Household) “And it's all in perfect taste, That you can bet, Come on and lift your glass, You've won your own free pass, To be out guest!” (Atsushi) “If you're stressed, It's fine dining we suggest!” (Household) “Be our guest! Be our guest! Be our guest! Get your worries off your chest, Let us say for your entrée, We've an array; may we suggest: Try the bread! Try the soup! When the croutons loop de loop It's a treat for any dinner, Don't belive me? Ask the china, Singing pork! Dancing veal! What an entertaining meal! How could anyone be gloomy and depressed? We'll make you shout ‘encore!’ And send us out for more!” So, be our guest!” (Atsushi) “Be our guest!” (Household) “Be our guest!

Kouyou rolled onto the table with a group of dancing teacups.

(Kouyou) “It's a guest! It's a guest! Sakes alive, well I'll be blessed! Wine's been poured and thank the Lord, I've had the napkins freshly pressed, With dessert, she'll want tea, And my dear that's fine with me, While the cups do their soft-shoein,’ I'll be bubbling, I'll be brewing, I'll get warm, piping hot, Heaven's sakes! Is that a spot? Clean it up! We want the company impressed!” (Household) “We've got a lot to do!”

Kouyou poured tea into an inanimate cup, and a bowl of sugar cubes danced up to (Y/N).

(Kouyou) “Is it one lump or two? For you, our guest!”

(Y/N) sipped her tea and sighed at the comforting warmth washing over her.

(Household) “She's our guest!” (Kouyou) “She’s our guest!” (Household) “She's our guest! Be our guest! Be our guest! Be our guest!”

The lights dimmed till only Atsushi stood in a spotlight. Even in his carved silver face, sadness was evidence.

(Atsushi) “Life is so unnerving, For a servant who's not serving, He's not whole without a soul to wait upon, Ah, those good old days when we were useful... Suddenly those good old days are gone, Ten years we've been rusting, Needing so much more than dusting, Needing exercise, a chance to use our skills! Most days we just lay around the castle, Flabby, fat and lazy, You walked in and oops-a-daisy!”

The dining room exploded with life once again. (Y/N) jumped but began laughing as colors and scents spun around her.

(Household) “Be our guest! Be our guest! Our command is your request, It's been years since we've had anybody here, And we're obsessed, With your meal, with your ease, Yes, indeed, we aim to please, While the candlelight's still glowing, Let us help you, We'll keep going, Course by course, one by one, 'Til you shout, ‘Enough! I'm done!’ Then we'll sing you off to sleep as you digest, Tonight you'll prop your feet up, But for now, let's eat up, Be our guest! Be our guest! Be our guest! Please, be our guest!”

(Y/N) applauded enthusiastically. In the back of her mind, her nervousness for her father’s wellbeing remained, as it always would, but for the moment, the burden of worry had been lifted somewhat. And her circumstances seemed a bit brighter. If there was only one beast but dozens of friends, then she wouldn’t suffer as much as she thought. I can survive this until I escape.

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nmikaelsonimagines · 4 years ago

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Movie Moments: A Klaus Mikaelson Imagine

Request from Anon: So all I did was read the title of your latest fic & now I’m needing a fic where the reader makes Klaus watch Titanic bc it’s one of her fave films (bc Kate & Leo!) and he’s never seen it (bc ‘why would I want to watch a film about an event I was present for y/n? 🙄’). A couple of days later Klaus is painting & she comes up behind him & whispers in his ear ‘I want you to paint me like one of those French girls’ and he spends the day drawing & painting her in all ways that he can think of 😝

Okay, so the “latest fic” was Those French Girls, which was ages ago! Whoops! Also, fun fact, my great-great-grandmother was a Titanic survivor. This one gets a bit suggestive so if you’re not down for that, keep scrolling. Hope this is okay for you lovely, and enjoy x

“Why would I want to watch a film about an event I was present for, Y/N?”

“Because it’s my favourite film, and you love me.”

Klaus wasn’t rolling his eyes by the end of the film, and you were pretty sure you had heard him sniffing, trying to hold back the tears. It was moments like these that made you smile, moments when you introduced him to new things and he would go along willingly because it was you, and he was head over heels for you.

This time, it had been Titanic. He had argued profusely about not seeing the point in watching a movie about something he had been present for, but had admitted defeat in the end, after hours of you pestering him. It was a romance, after all, and if you couldn’t watch one of those with your boyfriend, who could you watch one with?

It was a few days later when you walked into his studio and found Klaus painting. It was a common occurrence, the hybrid always having had a passion for art, not to mention an extraordinary talent, and normally you would have stood in the doorway admiring him. The slope of his back, the movements of his wrist, the way he was so immersed in whatever inspiration had struck him.

But Titanic was still swimming around in your head, as was an iconic line. With a devilish smile on your lips, you walked over to Klaus. You wrapped your arms around his waist, stretching up on your toes to kiss his cheek.

“Hello, love,” there was an affectionate lilt in Klaus’s voice.

“Hello.”

“What do you want?”

“I want you to paint me like one of those French girls.”

Klaus put down his paintbrush and turned to face you, your arms still around his waist. The smile on his face was one reserved for late night activities, one that sent chills down your entire body, your blood still managing to boil, your heart beating ten to the dozen.

“Well then perhaps you had better take a seat.”

Resisting the urge to giggle, you moved over to where Klaus gestured. It wasn’t the first time Klaus had painted you, insisting on capturing your likeness many times before, but you were sure this time would be different. You sat, with your hands clasped on your lap.

“Now, last I checked, those French girls of yours weren’t fully clothed.”

“Well maybe you’d like to show me what you mean by that.”

Your breath caught in your throat as Klaus walked over to you. He had undressed you plenty of times before, but he never failed to have the same effect on you. His hand lingered on your shoulder as he pushed down the sleeve of your shirt, before his lips met your skin, kissing ever so gently.

He crouched down, unbuttoning your jeans, before pulling them down your legs. You were conscious of his fingers on your skin, of each callous, of those artist hands that would only ever touch you in this way.

“That’s more like it.”

When Klaus had moved back to the easel, you caught sight of him. Of his cheeky smile as he looked at you, of the glint in his eyes that you had fallen in love with all that time ago.

“I’m thinking multiple positions for this one, Y/N. A collection of sorts,” he peered around the easel, “Maybe we’ll lose some more clothes as the day progresses.”

“And may I ask how you’re intending on paying your model?”

“Oh, I can think of a few ways that we’ll both agree on.” You shivered as Klaus winked at you, the promise of an eventful evening hanging in the air.

You had never felt more like Rose in your life as Klaus began painting you. You were living out one of your favourite movie moments and it was better than you could ever have imagined. You were also pretty sure that should Rose have ever modelled in the positions Klaus requested of you, the age rating of the movie would have gone up considerably.

The paintings that Klaus produced, the images of you in every way he could possibly think of, were not for the faint-hearted, and would certainly only ever be seen by you two.

Not that you minded. You had been the one to initiate it.

After this, you were sure that Klaus would never complain about anything you wanted to watch again. Especially as you were sure to thank him for the impressive portraits later in the evening.

You were also sure that you would never be able to watch Titanic in the same way again. You were bound to think of this moment every single time you saw Rose and Jack interact, every time you heard that line.

But then again, was that such a bad thing?

Klaus certainly didn’t think so, as he showed you when you went to bed.

Masterlist

#the vampire diaries #TVD #tvd imagine #tvd imagines #the originals #the originals imagines #the originals imagine #to #klaus mikaelson imagine #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson imagines #klaus mikaelson x reader #niklaus mikaelson #niklaus mikaelson imagines #niklaus mikaelson imagine #niklaus mikaelson x reader #Joseph Morgan

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nagisasstunningpersonality · 4 years ago

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TINSITOGS, a retrospective (happy birthday)

(yes I’m like two days too late I know I’m sorry)

Why hello followers and ass class fandom, nice to see you there. I’m sure MOST people know about this, but in case you don’t, hi. On AO3 I’m better known as livixbobbiex, writer of maybe one of the most infamous Assassination Classroom fics.

Which I mean like, if you haven’t read it yet you totally should it’s fanlore at this point I promise-

Shameless plug that I don’t need aside, I felt that, on its first birthday since actual completion, I just wanted to share some things about it. Some tit bits about writing it, fun facts, maybe even some author advice TM. I appreciate that it’ll be super annoying if I do that in the tags, though, so that’ll all be under the cut. If you don’t want to read the whole post, then no matter what, thanks for the support in general!

I also want to take the opportunity to announce that I’ve reopened my discord, so if you want to talk about my fics with me (and others), you’re more than welcome to join! (the link is here)

The origin story

I’ve stated this many times, I think, but TINSITOGS was never supposed to be a serious story. Taking you back, quite a long time, it actually started in a facebook DM with a friend. We used to come up with “head canons” with each other, which were basically just very condensed fanfiction plots over a multitude of text messages. I believe I was trying to cheer her up, and I tried to come up with some kind of plot line.

At the time, I was fairly fresh to the Ass Class fandom, and I was joking about how there were no teen pregnancy melodrama fanfictions. It wasn’t that I wanted one, I just thought it was strange for a school centric anime with a bunch of ships to NOT have one. And, back then, I only really cared about karmagisa. So I just decided ‘right it’s happening’. The reason I decided to make it ABO was due to ‘it making sense’. Fun fact: it was almost written as AFAB trans Nagisa, but I decided against it as I didn’t rate my ability to handle it well back then. Looking back on it, I’m glad I made that decision.

Over around two months, writing out the plot of this story took over my life a little bit. I had no idea where I was going with it, but I was having so much fun with the drama that I decided that Karma and Nagisa shouldn’t get together soon at all, and I had a lot of fun teasing my friend with the ‘will they won’t they’. It was only when I got bored that I invented this intense drama plotline to finish it all off.

That period of time was a lot of fun. And whilst that friendship didn’t end well, I still have a lot to thank her for. She chose Daichi’s name because I had no idea, and she wanted to annoy me because I didn’t like Haikyuu. When I couldn’t decide on his hair colour, the purple was her suggestion because ‘why logic?’ Daichi speaking Korean was because of how much she liked Kpop. She even helped me choose the title of the actual fic, so there’s a lot you can thank her for, honestly.

After I finished that story, though, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Whenever I daydreamed, I used to think about that damn Daichi Akabane, and how much I wanted to tell his story. I’d even come up with extra stuff to fill in a lot of the gaps, and developed his character in my mind. I decided that I was really desperate to write it down. Usually that worked when I had an idea I wanted to work through.

I wrote the first chapter in late 2017, and then the next two as well. I just, kept going, and realised that I could go further still. TINSITOGS was never something that was supposed to be shared, but I decided I may as well. After all, that fated ‘teen pregnancy drama’ fic still didn’t exist, and I thought it would be funny to make it happen.

Yes, as I’ve stated publicly a few times, TINSITOGS was a crack fic. If I wanted attention from it, it was infamy. We even joked about me cursing the fandom if it ever became the most popular fic (whoops?). What I wasn’t expecting was a bunch of people, in a fandom where at the time there were NO ongoing karmagisa fics and it was pretty dead, to really seem to enjoy it. It was enough to have me keep writing it, at least. I still don’t know at what point I actually started taking it seriously, but somehow I did, and the rest is history?

The reception

In my wildest dreams, I never thought that I would be the author of one of the most popular fics in the fandom. To this day, the amount of views TINSITOGS has is insanity to me. For the record, across all platforms it’s on today it has 238,000, which is literally a number I can’t even visualise anymore. Almost quarter of a MILLION. To this day on AO3, it’s the most viewed Ass Class fic that’s an ACTUAL ass class fic (the others are multi fandom compilations). So yeah, I achieved the original goal, I guess?

Now you might be wondering, “omg the karmagisa fandom is fujoshi trash”. And, considering the origins, it is kind of funny. The thing is, though, TINSITOGS was written at incredibly good time. It was written when there were, essentially, very few long form Karma/Nagisa stories. If any other fics did get posted on occasion, they were usually just oneshots. I was also, at that point, writing very fast. A symptom of ADHD is becoming obsessively productive over certain things. Since I was able to get a 3k chapter out every few days/once a week, TINSITOGS was consistently bumped to the top of AO3′s default view. And some of those first few chapters were altered canon, and transcribing the canon dialogue didn’t take very long. The more views it got, the more people would read it out of sheer curiosity.

I think it also helps that, at least after it started getting some positive feedback (which was honestly after the pre written chapters), I purposely tried to make it ‘not terrible’. I mean, I personally think the first chapter is pretty weak and if it wasn’t somewhat iconic to a lot of people I’d rewrite it. But in general, I purposely tried to make the world of ABO my own, to make it more accessible to those who don’t like that genre, and stay away from the inherently grosser stuff as much as possible. I genuinely do get comments about how I introduced people to the genre as a whole, still not sure if that’s a GOOD thing but hey, it happened.

TINSITOGS turned into a lot more than just a joke. It turned into my favourite hobby. It turned into a research project (honestly, you would not believe the amount of mummy vlogs and legit scientific articles about child development I consumed). It turned into something that, at least I believe, was widely loved.

Meaning

I think it might be wrong to say that I don’t have AN idea of when I started to take the fic super seriously. For me, it was around the time someone commented something along the lines of saying my writing meant a lot to them, that they’d spent all night reading it and had been unable to put it down.

Not to get too dark here, but I do have a past in writing a very long, somewhat popular fic (it’s still on my fanfic net profile if anyone’s interested, but I don’t recommend it). However, in the latter part of my teenage years, the depression struck. Writing was the love of my life, and I couldn’t bring myself to do it anymore. Maybe I’d be able to muster an idea or even a chapter at the best points of that, but I’d never completely finished any story. Starting to write again was a huge step in my recovery, and one of the reasons I convinced myself that life was worth it was being able to impact someone’s life somehow. Even to this day, I still remember the fics I read when I was, like, thirteen. How much I still remember them, and how much they meant to be at the time. I wanted to be that writer for someone else. To be honest, it was actually Yuri!!! On Ice that got me out of the super bad, but I still never wrote anything of real consequence. TINSITOGS was the first time in a long time I actually committed to something.

And, to be completely honest, there were a lot of times I was tired of it, and wanted to just quit. But, the thing was, I felt like people depended on me in a way. I got so many comments that were just FILLED with support, telling me how much they looked forward to every update. It wasn’t just empty words, either, a lot of the times these comments would be super engaged with the actual writing. I can’t even describe just how much they meant to me, how much I would look forward to reading everyone’s opinions. And then discord happened, which was a lot of fun.

TINSITOGS went a lot further than I ever thought it would. There were comments, discussions, fan art, fan FIC (which is honestly incredible to me). Someone even added it to TV Tropes, at one point. Not to mention the Cards Against Humanity deck and quiz It makes me so unbelievably happy that I could inspire that much creativity, but it’s a two way street. It was all of that which inspired me to write, too.

Writing

The only real goal I actually had was aiming for around 3000 words per chapter. I had a whole facebook log of plot points as planning, and I was mostly just trying to expand on them into prose. I honestly thought that, at its completion, the entire fic would be around 100k words, if that. Not, at one point, being literally the longest ass class fic on AO3.

There are a lot of aspects that were directly adapted from the original messages, and I tried to stay faithful to it more so at first, even if I later removed some of the pure crack. But the style was also vaguely similar, with the story being told mostly from Nagisa’s perspective with swaps to Karma when it made sense. All the main plot beats, too, are pretty much identical. The plus to this was I was able to add a lot of really fun foreshadowing, and I feel like it’s a fun reread because of it.

Honestly though, if there’s a demand to release those OG message logs, I will. Mostly because it’s kind of funny, and interesting to see. Isogai and Nagisa were engaged at one point, even.

Obviously, it changed somewhat. 3000 was the minimum length, and the time to completion was whenever it felt right. One of my big concerns was about pacing, so it took a lot more fleshing out and maybe ‘filler’ content for some of the main arcs to work.

There’s parts of TINSITOGS I don’t think aren’t written that well, and some that I’m still super proud of. I think you can definitely tell there’s a gradual shift in style, and I get a lot more comfortable with writing them as characters as it goes along. To be honest, my pride for the fic overall is what it represents.

It is funny to think about the places it got written in, though. I started it when I worked at McDonalds with no life direction, then it went through my first year of university with me. It’s been written in at least four countries. Aeroplanes, night clubs, long haul buses, a train through the Japanese southern coastline. Even the start of covid. TINSITOGS managed to see a lot. I even turned a scene in (the boat scene during the India chapter with altered names) to my university as a legitimate assignment.

There were also a few messages I wanted to achieve, once I realised I had the platform to put them across. One of them was, obviously, ‘use protection kids’. It was important to me that I didn’t glamorise it too much, and I think that came across. I also wanted to dispute some of the issues with ABO, and subvert the consent issues as much as I could. An arc I really ‘liked’ writing was how abuse doesn’t always look the same way, and that it can be a drawn out change in behaviour. How the most important part of ‘being a good parent’ isn’t perfection, but genuinely loving and doing the best you can for your kid. How love doesn’t solve everything, and effective communication can take a very long time to learn and build a functional relationship. I mean, there definitely was a lot I tried to put in, and you’re free to interpret it all how you want. But, I like to think some people learnt some of these things, at least.

Daichi

Honestly, Daichi developed almost of his own free will. I had a good idea of his appearance, and that he was smart. Writing him from birth until around nine years old (older if you read the sequel fic) pretty much allowed that fluidity. It was really fun to explore a nature vs nurture development, and let his own characteristics speak for themselves.

He’ll always have a special place in my heart.

This is the first image I ever made. When I was trying to figure out what Daichi looked like, I honestly just edited Karma’s hair (pretty well, actually? I’m impressed with my past skill). That’s where the ‘he looks just like Karma’ meme kind of came from.

This was the first image I actually created of Daichi. I THINK it was on rinmaru games mega anime creator or something, but it’s literally not available on the internet anymore as far as I can tell, so I can’t double check. This was in the pre-piccrew days. His eyes are closed because they didn’t have the right tone of goldish/silver.

His sister, Kaguya, didn’t even exist originally, even though I decided on that ending pretty early on. Actually, she was going to be called ‘Irina’ due to some hijinks. Initially, when Karma found out about Irina’s pregnancy, she was going to get super emotional and mad at him and basically force him to name his first born daughter after her. Karma agreed to shut her up, never intending to have another child, so when the surprise second child later came along they had to live with the pain. However, to be honest I just forgot to write in the actual scene that set it all up, and I decided against adding it anywhere else. The name Kaguya was a very last minute decision, and it was a chance for me to explore some ideas that didn’t fit with Daichi’s character.

Interestingly too, Daichi and Nao were never intended to be a thing. I only decided that towards the VERY end. Even though the reason I named Nao that was because of a ship I had in a J Drama (Good Morning Call). It just kind of ended up happening because I won myself over with imagining the cute.

The music

I used to write with a lot of background music, though not all the time. Particularly towards the start, there was a lot that didn’t really make sense thematically, yet I would write to a lot.

Here’s a link to the spotify playlist if you want it it’s basically all the ones I noted I’d listened to a lot. Not including the smut ones, though, I have a whole playlist for that.

Some of the notable ones:

Five String Serenade - the first scene I wrote of the entire fic, in Chapter 25 New Year Time where they fell asleep cuddling.

Cosmic Love - when I wrote Nagisa’s love confession scene in hospital (I also wrote this pretty early on)

Northern Downpour (though it was actually a cover by Emma Blackery) - The chapter after Daichi’s born (30)

When The Party’s Over - Confession Time Third Period, Chapter 69. I literally listened to this song on REPEAT when I planned and wrote the kind of ‘break up’ scene, and it’s one of the few parts that made me cry writing.

Turning Page - I know I said no smut, but this song actually gave me the idea to have the “I love you” in chapter 108 be less on a whim and actually more built up. In the original plan, Karma really did just say it without thinking. I’m glad I changed that.

Bury Me Low and Numb - pretty much all I listened to when writing the last few chapters, because Evil Nagisa core. So much so that Bury Me Low was in my top 2020 songs rewind.

As for the title, there’s actually quite a funny story. I had no idea what to call the fic, and when that happens I usually just try and find some song lyrics. I really wanted to use something from ‘October’ by the Broken Bells. Not only because it’s my favourite song (has been for years), but thematically it really worked. The issue was, it worked as the WHOLE song, there were no individual lyrics that captured everything. And, if they did, they didn’t flow very well. And naming the fic ‘October’ would have been weird for a lot of reasons. There Is No Sweeter Innocence That Our Gentle Sin really was just plucked randomly, in a desperate search to find any snappy lyrics from any song that had some kind of meaning. After a bit of discussion, we settled that it kind of worked... if Daichi is innocent and they committed a sin or something. It also wasn’t the most obvious lyric from the song (Take Me To Church if anyone doesn’t know) so I just went with it. It works out, I think, because TINSITOGS turned out to be a pretty good acronym and pronounceable word in its own right.

The merch redbubble drama

It’s a well known fact that I’m not very good at art. However, I decided to try pixel art because it seemed the easiest to not mess up. I made Karma and Nagisa, before deciding to also give Daichi a try.

This, to this day, is the only good quality art of Daichi that I actually own. The only one I’m actually happy sharing and thinking it doesn’t look terrible. As much as I love people sending me fanart, it’s not ‘my property’, right.

So, I was kind of joking about TINSITOGS having merchandise. At first I just made two funny quote things, and uploaded it to redbubble. I was never intending to actually make money from this, and I’d agreed to myself that if I did, I would just donate it to charity. I was joking with the quotes, but since I had this artwork I figured I may as well uploaded. Separately, there was also an image that had pixel Daichi next to pixel Nagisa and Karma (which I also created).

Aside from showing up in a few people’s adverts across the internet, there was no real harm with this. In fact, I didn’t make money anyway. It was just... more the joke of it existing. I did, however, buy myself a Daichi phone case, which is one of my favourite possessions.

The funny ‘drama’ comes in when they got taken down due to copywrite. Sure, the one with Nagisa and Karma, I understand. But the other three literally had no mention or anything to do with Assassination Classroom, aside from being from a fanfiction. So basically, someone who owns those rights claimed my OC as theirs. Which makes Daichi canon? Whatever the case, I found this hilarious don’t worry.

How has TINSITOGS changed my life?

This is quite a strange thing to think about. Because, in a lot of ways, it really hasn’t. As I’m sure a lot of people know, I don’t really consider myself to have any real ‘fame’, despite the impressive numbers. Whenever I tell people in my personal life, they seem to think I’m some sort of internet celebrity, but that’s never been the case for me. I mean, it’s hardly a cultural phenomenon.

In a lot of ways, I’d much rather befriend someone than have them admire me. Possibly because being someone’s inspiration is kind of weird... I’m just an awkward duck who likes to write after all. I don’t mind it, though. I genuinely find it an honour, even if I don’t necessarily agree. I also want to take this time to say that if anyone ever wants to talk or message me, you’re more than free to do so. I’m usually super casual with people who do that, I promise.

TINSITOGS was the first story I ever finished in the way I truly wanted to. Start to end, a full narrative. And it took a LOT. There were so many times I almost felt like quitting, or took super long breaks. For me, ADHD queen, actually finishing something was a huge deal. And I know I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t owe it to everyone who read it, and myself, to see it through. You know like, if I were to die tomorrow, at least I’ve left something behind.

In a lot of ways, it’s changed me for the better. It’s helped me develop my writing styles, and way of thinking. It encouraged me to become more active in the fandom, and develop some important friendships. I always feel like my Tumblr and Fanfiction ‘known’ factor is separate. I think most of my Tumblr following is more to do with my theories/Japanese context research if anything, for example, but I know I wouldn’t be so interested in that if TINSITOGS hadn’t lead me to deeply examine character and really look into analysing source material for clues. I also think there’s just... a lot of myself in it.

I was 17 years old, when I first came up with the idea. I finished the story when I was 20. Now, at the time of writing, I’m 21. That time has seen some pretty significant changes - just in general life facts and my own personal human development. For me at least, a lot of that was pretty turbulent, and TINSITOGS stands as a time capsule for that, in a way.

I know I gained a lot of confidence, and it affirmed to me that writing is what I love. Telling stories and sharing them is what I love.

Conclusion

Do I think TINSITOGS is an outstanding piece of writing, or the best fic ever? No. I really don’t. It’s strange to say because I definitely spent a lot of time on it, but it’s not like I put my full unbridled efforts into the story. I don’t fully plan, use a beta, or even read through on my own. And that’s okay - that’s not what I write fanfiction for. Fanfiction is my place to have fun with characters and stories I like, without the pressures of having to stand on my own complete originality. Yes, I’m fully confident that I can write at a “higher quality”, if I really wanted to. I’m also aware that some authors put their full effort into their fics, and that’s just as valid!

It feels odd to say this about my own writing, but I honestly think there’s just something in this story. It might not be written in the best prose ever, and the premise might be kind of dumb for a lot of people. But, I think, there’s some part of this fic that managed to grab people. Somehow, at some point, many readers get captured into the emotions and so drawn in that ‘they just have to finish it now!’ Again, I’m not sure myself how I actually achieved that. Of course, that won’t apply to everyone, but I do feel there’s some truth in it. And it makes me happy, to have caused that.

If TINSITOGS is your favourite fic, or if you genuinely think it’s the best story you’ve read, then thank you. I really appreciate your support, and I’m happy to have been a part of your life, I guess. I know how much fanfics can mean to a person, and that’s why I’m not going to take it down, or edit it at all. And it’s fine too, if you loved the fic for a while and moved on -i t happens. Whatever the case, I’m very honoured to have been able to occupy a moment of your life. Or if you find this fic in 10 years time, even, I still wholly appreciate you.

This story was incredibly important to me, and thank you for reading if it was ever important to you too.

You may ask, what now? Well, this is only intended to be a detailed look back for whoever’s interested, and it’s likely the only one I’ll actually do, a year after completion. Of course, if you ever want to ask me anything or just discuss the story, you’re honestly good to contact me in whatever way I have available.

I’m still writing my ongoing stories, of course, despite taking a small break due to the university work load. I fully intend to complete the stories I’ve already started to tell, at least. After that... I’m not sure if I’ll still write fanfiction. Don’t panic, this isn’t a ‘I’m quitting writing’ thing. I may, however, have bled the Karmagisa genre a bit too dry at that point. Who knows? I am pretty interested in writing something original for once, so maybe that’ll work out.

For now, at least, thank you to anyone who read this fic. To anyone who commented, liked, or interacted with me over it. To anyone who created or learnt from it. I’m really glad that I got to share this story with you all, and ultimately left some kind of mark, no matter how big or small.

Happy birthday, TINSITOGS. I had a lot of fun writing you.

#ass class #assassination classroom #ansatsu kyoushitsu #tinsitogs #karmagisa

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could-have-beens · 3 years ago

Note

I may have, completely accidentally, tripped and written a teensy fic based on your most recent Gin n Tonic headcannon.

More specifically, the one in which Ginny and Alphard get engaged for the heck of it, and Tom contemplates homicide in the background, except I only read that sentence and not the rest of it, because inspiration struck me like a thunderbolt, and here I am 600+ words later. A fic of a fic, if you will.

My Tom and Ginny are very, very ooc because I honestly can't remember what OG tom and ginny are like (whoops) and the whole thing is complete and utter crack, and I honestly can't write, not even for peanuts, but my point. after much nonsensical rambling is. Would you mayhap perchance like to read it??

ASDFKSKFHADKJGFLH OH MY GOD YES PLEASE I WOULD ABSOLUTELY LOVE TO READ IT

#I am so #AAAHHHHHH #👀👀👀#asheslikestardust

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fanfoolishness · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! I love your mando fics and I’d like to request some fluffy father-son feels Din & Grogu + music, if you have the time or if this inspires anything :)

Thank you so much for this prompt, I had so much fun with it! I decided to send Din and Grogu to Batuu, as I figured they’d have some occasions for music, and because I miss Disneyland and Batuu/Galaxy’s Edge quite a lot. All the little details are from my visits to the park, as well as the Traveler’s Guide to Batuu.

You also get a bonus doodle because I got this mental picture and it was too cute! Enjoy the fluff :)

The Outpost (2000 words)

***

Batuu was a strange world. He’d been here a few times, years back, and the curious petrified spires towering upon the planet’s surface had struck him as unique. He pointed them out to the kid as they flew closer to the port. The kid’s eyes widened, taking in the odd sight, and he let out a babble.

“I know. We’ve been to a lot of deserts, right, kid? But these are trees, or they used to be. The locals say they used to be thousands of meters tall.” He smiled faintly, thinking of the kid standing against the base of one of the spires. It made for one hell of a mental image.

The docking bay crew of the Black Spire Outpost gave him clearance to land, but he noticed a lot more bright colors throughout the marketplace and the streets than he remembered as they descended. He did the math in his head. Huh. Life Day again already.

He didn’t know what Batuuans did for Life Day, if they were spend it at home with family types or if they were dance in the street types. He suspected the former -- they were fairly reserved people, as he remembered, if you didn’t count the smugglers and mercs -- but crowds could make it harder to get around, and expose him and the kid to more wandering eyes. But there were rumors Jedi came through town now and then, here on the edge of the galaxy, and that was what they were looking for.

***

He’d been wrong. Batuuans weren’t stay at home types for Life Day, it seemed; they were out in force, whooping and hollering, trading their normal drab clothing in blues, grays and browns for reds and violets. He left the pram in the Crest. It’d be too easy to lose the kid in this crowd, even with it set to follow him as closely as possible.

The kid, for his part, seemed fascinated by the crowds, leaning over the edge of Din’s arm to reach out at waving ribbons tied overhead along every path. Streamers and pennants fluttered in the breeze. People in bright cloaks and vests bumped off of Din’s shoulders as they passed, and he kept his free hand resting over his blaster in case of thieves.

He traced his way down the old stone streets past the grubby little cantina. Thumping bass and electric squeals seeping through the walls were loud enough that the kid put his hands over his enormous ears. “Don’t worry,” Din said to him. “We aren’t going in.” He knew an awful lot of people loved that stuff, but Din didn’t understand the point; music was just a distraction, a sometimes painfully loud one at that.

The kid leaned against his chest, slowly lowering his hands as Din walked further from the cantina. Din kept an eye on the Wookiee bouncer outside as they passed. Crowds there might be today, but a Mandalorian still was an unusual sight, and he suspected he’d be remembered no matter where he went.

The crowds around them flowed and chattered excitedly, kids in oversize festive hats skipping past, parents laughing and humming snatches of songs, young couples strolling from market stall to market stall holding hands and giggling in their finest clothes. Even the unsavory element that flourished here looked to be in the spirit; he saw a few skulking Rodians with colorful ornaments jingling on their vests, and people clustered in shadowed alleys played furtive rounds of sabacc while wearing red and gold kerchiefs.

Din looked down at the kid frequently, checking to make sure he wasn’t overwhelmed by the sounds and sights. To the contrary, the kid seemed to be getting more and more excited as they walked. He chirped and cooed and swiveled his long ears this way and that, sometimes grabbing Din’s hand by the thumb and shaking it for emphasis when he saw something interesting. Din chuckled, holding the child closer.

“I know, I know. There’s a lot going on,” he said, leaning down close to the kid so that he could hear him through the crowd noise. “Want something to eat?” The kid looked up at him, mouth opening hopefully. “I guess it was a stupid question. You’re always hungry.”

He rounded the corner, sidling past a group of children tossing dice to the ground and whooping at the result. The kid stiffened and stared up ahead at their destination. Ah. He’d smelled lunch.

Din made his way up a set of stone steps to the entrance of the market, marked by an enormous slab of ronto slowly being spun over a huge open fire on a spit. The kid reached both hands out in a clear gimme gimme and Din bent to tell him, “Hold on, you’ll get to try some. Be patient.”

Din waited until a clear space opened up at the counter, and he sidled up to the shopkeeper, giving him a nod. Drask Corfin was a decent sort, and he’d given Din tips more than once on bounties and good deals. Din’s hand went to his hip, pulling out the Batuuan spira he kept around for his rare visits.

“Bright suns, Drask. Looking for anything you can tell me about Jedi,” Din said. “I know they’ve been here before.”

“Bright suns. Good to see you, Mando,” said Drask. “Now, that’s new.” He nodded at the kid, who stared soulfully at a plate of ronto meat before a customer grabbed it away.

“He likes the festivities,” said Din. He liked Drask fine, but he knew he wasn’t the man’s only customer, and giving out needless details was a dangerous game. “Any recent Jedi visitors? Or Mandalorians?”

“You’re still the only Mandalorian I’ve ever seen. As for the Jedi, I haven’t heard anything for at least a year or two,” said Drask, getting the message and shifting his gaze from the kid. “They used to come around now and then, looking for some kinda fancy rocks, but since the Empire… afraid I got nothing, Mando.”

Din sighed. Well, it’d been worth a shot. He fought down a wave of disappointment; the trip had been for nothing, after all. “Keep an eye out for me. If I don’t get any leads, I’ll check back again.” He handed the man a few spira for his trouble, and a little extra. “Got some food for me and the womp rat?”

“He’s old enough to eat solids?” Drask asked doubtfully. “My kids weren’t eating my food until they were practically twice his size.”

“You don’t want to know what I’ve caught him eating.”

“Sure. Just a sec.” He returned with two wraps bursting with meat, bundling them into a flimsy bag, and Din gave him the rest of the money.

He glanced around at the thronging crowds. “Hey, you got somewhere quiet we can eat?”

Drask jingled the spira in his hand. “For you, Mando, sure. There’s a staircase round the back. You two can take the roof for a little bit if you like. Might get a good view of the band, too. They’re due to start soon.”

Din didn’t care about that, but he appreciated the idea of a little relief from the jangling noise and the crush of people. “Thank you. Til the Spire, Drask.”

“May your deals go well, Mando.”

***

True to Drask’s word, the roof offered a respite from the hustle and bustle of the streets below. There was a raised ledge that made for a decent seat, and Din set the kid down on his lap. He pulled out one of the wraps and handed it to the kid, who looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Yeah, that’s for you. Go on, it’s good.” Then he realized the shape of the food was all wrong for the kid’s little hands and small mouth. “Hang on, let me just --” He reached down, breaking the wrap and the meat within into a few large pieces instead of one, and set the food down on a napkin spread on the kid’s tiny lap. His gloves came away sticky with sauce, which he brushed off on his cloak. “Don’t want you choking.” Then again, he’d seen the kid slurp down a whole frog, so maybe choking wasn’t something he had to worry about with him.

The kid giggled, stuffing a hunk of ronto into his mouth. He chewed it for a second before gulping it down, then let out a sneeze.

Din paused, about to lift his helmet and take a bite of his own food. “You okay there, buddy?”

Another tiny sneeze, but the kid kept eating, getting sauce all over his hands. Din took a bite of his own food, enjoying a pleasant burn of spice in the creamy sauce. Ah. The kid wasn’t used to anything spicy.

“Let me know if it’s too spicy for you,” Din said, swallowing his bite. “We can always find something else if we need to.” He lowered his helmet and glanced down just in time to see the kid let out a burp that was more like a hiccup than anything else. He’d finished the whole damn thing.

Din shook his head. Where did the food go? Maybe the kid’s powers burned through energy like nothing else. He ate through his own meal more methodically, allowing himself a moment to enjoy the bite of two different cuts of ronto, the vinegar tang of slaw, the soft chew of the thick wrap and the creamy, spicy sauce. It’d been a long time since he’d been to Drask’s, and he’d forgotten how good the food was.

He finished up, then cleaned up the kid. Time to head back to the ship, then. There wasn’t much point in hanging around since the hoped-for lead hadn’t materialized.

Before he could get to his feet a loud noise burst through the crowd hubbub below, and he quickly leaned over the edge of the roof from his seat to search for threats. It took a second for him to recognize it as merely the start of a song. Down below in the open square was a shabby little stage with a band, the players holding a variety of different instruments. Around them the Batuuans started dancing and singing, some of them swaying from side to side, others leaping up and down with their hands up. He guessed this was a popular one, then.

He felt a sudden lightness on his lap. “Kid?” he asked, looking down. The kid had slipped down from his lap and landed between his feet, and he stood there, still as a tiny statue except for his ears. They vibrated slightly, then raised, tilted, focused.

“What is it, pal?”

The song changed, something bright and peppy with a strong drum beat. People below began to clap and stomp, the rhythm rolling outward from the band, streaming into the people in the crowd. And the kid started to dance.

It took Din a moment to realize that was what it was. It started as a little sway of his head, a gentle bobbing back and forth along with the rhythm. Then his hands lifted, curled themselves into tiny fists as he waved them. Finally, he started shuffling his small feet, shifting from side to side, and he let out a stream of giggles.

Din watched him. The kid’s attention was fixed toward the crowd, mostly, but now and then he would turn his gaze to look up at Din, his ears twitching happily, and Din looked back at him, feeling a satisfaction that had nothing to do with no longer being hungry.

Music wasn’t forbidden to his people by Creed, but his tribe had stayed hidden for so long that music had become an unnecessary risk. Their secrecy would have been challenged by drums and strings, by voices lifted in song, and so they let it go, as they had let so many things go in their exile. Din had not missed it. Music was not forbidden, but neither was it a tenet of the Way.

But watching the kid dance his clumsy, happy dance, the people celebrating down below, the music seeped in. Din felt drums thrumming in the hollows in his lungs and belly, the whine of vibro-guitar buzzing in his ears, the chirruping of a bright flute weaving in with the warm brassiness of trumpets. And over all the voices, the clapping, the stomps of a people celebrating, a people joyful. There was a story here in all these layers of sound, and it washed over him, a force in and of itself.

His foot stirred. Itched. Shifted. It hummed with the urge for movement. He looked down and saw it tapping of its own volition, keeping time in a steady beat.

Between his feet the kid danced, waving his small arms, his face tilted up to look at Din’s as he laughed. Din tapped his foot against the roof as the music swelled, and he thought, perhaps, that the trip had been worth it after all.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #grogu #noromo mando #batuu #galaxy's edge #you guys i miss ronto wraps so bad #my mando fic #paperferns

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faustian-familiar · 4 years ago

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Wedding Days: Asra

The first part in a twelve-part celebration. Each of the main six will get two short stories - Wedding Days is fluff, Wedding Nights is smut. I hope you enjoy.

I stared out the window and into Nopal, where the sunset was washing the wedding guests in a dim purple glow. A handful of chairs near a white archway were filled with the people dearest to Asra and I - Portia chatted leisurely with a guest of mine, while Muriel, Asra’s best man, stood awkwardly nearby looking as though he were ready to bolt. Paper lanterns lined the aisle, glowing from within from candlelight. Our friends and family were gathered in tight circles, their voices and laughter carried to my ears by the desert wind. Asra would be arriving any moment now for us to partake in a Zadithian wedding tradition. Aisha sat down beside me, taking a moment to adjust my hair before taking my hand.

“You look absolutely divine,” she said. “Asra will be stunned when he sees you.”

I smiled, squeezing Aisha’s hand.

“I can’t wait to see him,” I replied. Unable to stay still any longer, I rose from my seat and paced around the room. “I just want to be married.”

Aisha smiled at me wistfully, folding her hand in her lap as she tracked my progress from one end of the room to the other. “I’m so very glad he found you.”

The sun dipped below the horizon, so that the world was glazed in smoky black.

As though summoned by our words, a knock sounded at the door. My heart leapt into my throat. It was finally happening.

Aisha grinned at me and took her place at the door, flinging it open to reveal Asra’s wedding party, surrounded by a semicircle of the guests.

Julian stepped up to the door, grinning and bowing deeply.

“Milady!” Julian shouted, loud enough to be heard by the guests. “We have come to present ourselves to your radiant ward so that they may choose the finest among us,” he continued, sweeping his arm dramatically towards the wedding party, “to be their husband.”

I watched from behind Aisha, covering my laughter with my hand and standing on my toes to try and get a glimpse of Asra.

“I hope that you have brought your most exceptional suitors,” Aisha replied, her serious expression betrayed by the sparkle in her eyes. “My ward will only accept the most outstanding, the most handsome, and the most loving among you.”

“Without question,” Julian said, clearly relishing the extravagance of the performance, “they will find a husband among us.”

“Then let the suitors come forward,” Aisha replied gravely.

I stepped into the door frame beside Aisha, a flush rising to my cheeks as I scanned the crowd for Asra. It was traditional for the groom to hide until the end, but I could hardly contain myself.

“Allow me to present myself first,” Julian announced, spinning in a slow circle to show off every side. Aisha looked to me quizzically, and I shook my head, suppressing my smile.

“Bring us the next suitor,” Aisha said. “This one will simply not do.”

Julian turned and clapped his hand over Muriel’s wrist, pulling him forward. Muriel stared at the ground, his enormous frame shrinking away from the attention. I quickly shook my head, and Muriel darted back into the cluster of people.

“This suitor will not do either,” Aisha declared.

Selasi, the market baker, stepped up next and struck an absurd pose, inspiring a low ripple of laughter from the guests. I hid my face in Aisha’s shoulder to conceal my mirth and shook my head vigorously.

“Is there none among you worthy of MC?” Aisha said melodramatically.

“There is one!” Salim’s voice rose above the murmur. The wedding party moved aside so that Asra and Salim could come forward, Salim’s arm wrapped affectionately around Asra’s shoulder. His mother had made his wedding clothes for him, and they were stunning - white silk wrapped around his torso, trimmed with gold fabric, and a wide sash of lavender hugged his waist, accentuating the fullness of the gown that trailed in elegant folds to the ground. The hem and cuffs shimmered in the low light with tiny gold stars sewn into it. Salim reached up to ruffle Asra’s hair and, remembering that it was slicked back, quickly drew his hand away with an apologetic smile.

Asra stared up at me with his mouth hanging open, his eyes wide and shining with wonder. A huge smile spread across his face.

“MC,” Asra whispered. The theatrics were suddenly forgotten as we gazed at one another across the empty space. I had thought that I loved Asra with everything, but looking at him made me realize that it had been a trickle in my heart that just now had burst up into a fountain.

“MC!” he repeated, remembering his role. “I’ve come to win your heart,” he said. “I’ve come across mountains, I’ve spanned deserts, and faced dangers of every kind to find you. I would go a thousand more miles through the realm of the Devil if it meant that you would be mine.” He stepped away from his father, approaching me with his hand outstretched, his expression enamored. “Come away with me.”

I was moving before I realized, stretching out my arms and striding down the sand toward him. He broke suddenly into a run, crashing into me and sweeping me up into his embrace.

“I love you,” he sighed into my ear. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” He cupped my cheek in his hand, tilting my face toward him. “My beloved one.” His lips pressed suddenly against my forehead. The shock of the sudden touch crackled like a lightning bolt to my skin. His mouth was plump and surprisingly soft. His arm wound around my shoulders gently, drawing me closer so his lips pressed more deeply.

His kiss lingered there for a long moment, cooled by his breath as he pulled away slowly. The place where his lips had been was tingling. I gazed at him, and found him staring at me with intense, heavy-lidded eyes. The corner of his mouth turned up, and I watched as his fascinated stare began to roam over the features of my face, examining the spot where he had kissed me, then regarding my nose, the delicate curve my cheek, and finally my mouth. His lips parted slightly.

This close to him, I saw his throat bob as he swallowed. His tongue peeked out to dab the corner of his mouth.

The tension between us felt like a physical presence, making the air feel heavy in my chest and against my racing heart. I was certain he could feel it too. When our eyes met again, my body moved compulsively.

I closed the distance between us and crashed my lips into his. He returned the kiss without a moment’s hesitation, leaning in towards me so my head was pushed back by his momentum. His arm around my shoulders tightened as his mouth pressed hotly against mine, frictionless as he tasted each of lips. His mouth was thorough, searching, bruisingly fervent; it filled my mind with the roaring starlight of a comet’s tail. Our tongues moved forward as one, meeting in the space between our lips and dancing wetly against one another.

When we parted, sound returned in a rush, bringing my awareness back to the crowd of people laughing and whooping around us. Asra’s face flushed, his expression suddenly sheepish as I chuckled and pecked him on the cheek and he buried his face in my neck.

“Let’s get married, Asra.”

#the arcana #the arcana game #asra alnazar #the arcana asra #asra the magician #asra x you #asra x mc #asra x apprentice #fluff

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evolutionsvoid · 4 years ago

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I have to say, the more I think about Slimes, the more excited and confused I get. For a natural historian, they sure are fascinating creatures! There is just nothing else like them! However, they bring me a whole lot of headaches because how do you categorize these things!? How do you understand or even define them? The main issue I have is a bit similar to the problem I run into when figuring out how to categorize the different dryads and the ever-growing arrangement of hybrids. The wide array of crossbreeding and how each "species" can make other "species" is quite mind boggling in the dryad world. In the land of Slimes, it is even crazier! I am sure some may recall other entries I have had on Slimes, like the Flayers, Leg Eaters and Stone Chimneys. These Slimes have chosen particular lifestyles in certain environments, and this creates quite a distinct creature. Even the entry I will shortly get into here follows the same path. The thing is, though, is that these adaptations and abilities are not locked to one group! A Flayer has adjusted its pseudobody to create an adhesive composition, while a Leg Eater has influenced its own slime to produce acidic substances. Despite this, any other normal Slime could easily walk up to one of these "species" and copy their abilities! One simple transfer, and they could learn the ways to slowly change their composition to match. So all of these different groups are just Slimes who have decided to follow a certain path, one that they could just abruptly change at any moment, or even combine! What do we do when a Fire Flayer is created? Or spike-shooting Leg Eaters start to take form? It's a mess! Sure, we could just call them all Slimes and be done with it, but where is the organization? The understanding? That doesn't sound like a conclusion, it sounds like a surrender! I refuse to take the easy route! I do not just drop these things the moment they get tough! That is when I get motivated, because if we don't figure this out, then who will?! Oh right, I am supposed to be writing about Fire Slimes. Whoops! I am sure just saying the name "Fire Slime" already makes things quite obvious to most folk. They are Slimes that can produce fire. That description is a bit reductive, but if you needed to explain it to a common member of the public, it works. In truth, the Fire Slimes do not just conjure fire out of nowhere. The flame comes from the flammable fluid that their pseudobody creates from its food and waste. This liquid can be secreted on the outside of their bodies to coat themselves, or it can be stored in bubbles that are formed inside their pseudobody. Often, they do both, storing a whole lot of it on the inside, then sweating out the excess as a defensive measure. Despite their ability to secrete this flammable substance, they can't actually ignite it. The Slime does not have the means to naturally create the spark or heat that would be required to light it all aflame. This isn't too much of problem for them, as there are plenty of other sources in this vast world that can provide them with this spark. The easiest and most abundant are rocks like flint that can be struck with metals to create a shower of fiery sparks. The Fire Slimes will collect their first fire starters in their early stages of life, and continue to amass an entire collection during the following years. This is to ensure they always have a fire starter on hand even if a foe destroys one of them during a fight, and it is also for decoration. All Slimes love a bit of fashion, and these fellows enjoy coating themselves with rocks and steel. With a fire starter in their possession, a Fire Slime is now capable of igniting their fluids. Just one spark, and it all lights up in an instant! These flames don't last too long, as it burns through their fuel quite quickly. However, these Slimes have found many ways to utilize this weaponry to the best of their abilities. With stores of the liquid inside them, they can use internal pressure to shoot it out from their bodies, either in a tight stream or a wide spray. A quick clacking of their flints will ignite the torrent and turn it into a blast of fire! This is why people tend to think that Fire Slimes can breath fire from their "heads" or shoot it from their "arms," as it looks the part! Alternatively, the Fire Slime can gather its internal stores of liquid and seal it in a thin layer of slime. Pushing this bubble to the exterior of their bodies, they will coat the outside of it in fluid and set it on fire. In one quick motion, they will launch this burning gob at a foe, looking to stick it to their hides. The gooey coating will get stuck on armor or skin, but its loss of contact with the Slime's heart will cause it to fall apart. This means that the store of flammable fluid will begin to leak out, coming in contact with the fiery outside and igniting all at once. Essentially, it all goes "boom," and that is really bad when that stuff is adhered to your face. So, in short, they can fire off explosive gobs of flaming slime, quite the weapon! While intimidating, these weapons aren't the most commonly used ones. The most frequent use of all this is focused on the liquid that coats their whole pseudobodies. A thin layer of this fluid is present on them at all times, and a simple strike of their stony scales will set it all ablaze. When agitated, a Fire Slime will rattle its fire starters as a warning. If the foe ignores this, they will activate every pair of stone and steel on their bodies. A spray of sparks will ensue, and the outer coating of fluid will burst into a huge aura of flame. This sudden burst of fire is quite terrifying, but not super deadly. It lasts for only a few moments, and it will only singe those that are in close quarters. However, this display is often enough to scare away foes and leave them with a few smoking hairs. It is mainly used as an intimidation tactic, though it does have another use. External parasites are a plague for Slimes, and what better way to be rid of them than to burn them off?

Fire Slimes can use this arsenal for defense, but they also find it handy for hunting. Explosive blobs are good for blowing apart larger prey, and streams of flame can flush food from their burrows and dens. Seeing a Fire Slime torch a gnu is both fascinating and horrifying, and I am not sure if I am ever going to forget that. I am sure there are many who hear about this behavior and liken it to dragons and their fiery breath. In fact, there are quite a few folk out there that say that Fire Slimes picked up this ability by mimicking dragons. I mean, c'mon! Flammable liquid expelled from the "mouth" that is then lit by sparks! That's just like a dragon! While I won't deny the similarities, I believe this is not the source of their inspiration. I am not alone in this thinking, as a whole bunch of other researchers have looked into the spread of the Fire Slimes and the environments their ranges cover. Yes, Fire Slimes can appear in volcanic areas, but they are primarily found in arid places. Within this ranges, researchers have noted quite a few alkaline lakes in their territory, a habitat that Fire Slimes are quite fond of. Another piece to the puzzle is found on their pseudobodies, as Fire Slimes tend to form very familiar structures with their collected ores. Some would say it is an "avian" look! Speaking of birds, what are the most famous birds to inhabit these alkaline lakes? Phoenixes! Yes, indeed, we believe that Fire Slimes owe their origins to their blazing beauties of the burning lakes! I dare say it is obvious! Phoenixes use their metallic beaks to create sparks that ignite their own flammable powder, which would be the perfect inspiration for a curious Slime! They would mimic this behavior and even copy their appearance to better grasp the concept. A sparking beak and feathers can be seen in the way Fire Slimes carry themselves and their collections, unknowingly honoring the source of their epiphany! You can even look at the ranges of Phoenixes and Fire Slimes and see that the two tend to overlap quite a lot! It's incredible! It makes you wonder what Slimes will come up with next! What creature will they find inspiration from and birth an entirely new category of Slimes! Unfortunately, not everyone shares my excitement of these prospects, seeing as the Fire Slimes are already a bit of a problem. People already aren't a fan of Slimes, now imagine their joy when they see one that can spray fire. Though it varies with each individual Slime and their knowledge, there are indeed enough wilder Fire Slimes out there that don't grasp the concept of "please don't burn me and my property." It doesn't help that most of their problems are solved with fire, so the second they are accosted by an angry landowner they tend to start spraying. Or if they see a tasty goat that isn't theirs (which doesn't bother them, as concept of property is a bit of a shaky subject with Slimes) they will happily treat themselves to a cook-out without a hesitation. They don't really think about those who aren't resistant to burning, as the simpler Slimes tend to divide all living creatures into two groups: "Those That Burn" and "Those That Don't." To them, things that can be set on fire are Food, while things that cannot are Not Food. On one hand, it creates the obvious conclusion of "Hey! That farmer is on fire! I guess I can eat them!" However, it can also create the idea of "this person says they aren't food, so I guess they don't burn!" It is not as terrifying as the first example, but let me tell you it can cause its own set of problems. For example, a fellow Fire Slime may get annoyed by insects trying to feed on its pseudobody and decide to unleash its fire aura to fry the nibbling gnats. They do this without hesitation because they aren't worried about the fire, and since the inquisitive plant person accompanying them said they weren't food, they shouldn't mind either! I minded. Quite a lot. Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Going from something fresh and new to something that is really old and has been sitting in my posting folder for practically years. Nothing too crazy or flashy, but I had to post them sooner or later!

#slime #slimes #monster #creature #fire slime #art #drawing

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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The Goode Case, 14/14 (Multi) - Juno

Chapter Summary: Jaida, Brita and Jackie try to plan for the three of them to go bowling. Of course, that might not work out quite as planned!

(A/N: So ….. this is the end of TGC! It’s the epilogue, and I wanted to give them all an ending, so here it is. I’ve been so blown away by the support I’ve received for this fic, even though it’s completely insane and no one asked for it! Thank you to everyone who has left me a like, kudos, comment, or just read it and enjoyed it. It really does mean the world! xo Juno)

Tuesday 14thNovember

7.09PM

Brita:Do u want to go bowling this Friday? Xx

Jackie:The three of us??

Jaida:I don’t think three is quite enough sis. Not for a good game. We’ll be done in half an hour!

Brita:LOL if that’s a hint then yes u can ask Jan xx

Jaida smiled to herself. If she hadn’t been thinking it before, she definitely was now. She was having a great time getting to know who Jan was, and what made her tick, these past ten days or so. Hearing Jan’s unbelievable singing voice at full pelt in Jan’s little Fiat 500. Playing around doing lay-ups at the basketball court and normally losing to Jan, even thought she was the shorter of the two. Getting their legs tangled in the sheets at the end of the day …

Oh yes. Jaida had enjoyed every minute.

Jackie:Ok, I don’t need to read minds to see how this will go……..

Jaida: lmao really? X

Brita:Enlighten us Jacqueline xx

Jackie:Obvs we three want to go

Jackie:Jai invites Jan

Jackie:Brita wants to invite a gf if Jai is inviting one

Jackie:So now Aiden is coming

Jackie:Aiden always brings Crystal

Jackie:Crystal always brings Gigi

Brita:Aiden isn’t my gf

Jaida:and Im Oprah

Jackie:LOL!

Brita:shush Jai xx

Brita:we just had a couple dates so far thats all xx

Jackie:Ok so I actually laughed

Jackie:Heidi & Nicky heard me

Jackie:So they invited themselves

Jaida:oh that’s cool no problem x

Jackie seemed to see more of Heidi than Jaida did right now. Jaida might have felt strange before, the thought of her friend and her colleague mingling, no careful divide in her mind; but that was fading fast. Nicky had started teaching Heidi some useful French, rather than just more swearing, and now they were organising for Nicky to come into Heidi’s kindergarten class with some basic French for the kids.

As for Brita … well, if there was one thing Jaida had learned about her through the Goode case, it was that she often had a slightly devious ulterior motive in these innocent suggestions. And although Jaida still didn’t feel as if she knew Aiden very well yet, she’d noticed that Brita had never spent more time daydreaming in the office; prompting a few pens being thrown at her by Jackie all last week.

Brita:How many is that? I suck at math lmao

Jackie:is that nine?

Jackie:one more to make it even??

Jaida: Dahlia, I said I would organise something with her

Brita: sis u cant invite Dahl without Rock xx

Jackie:Ok look

Jackie:We can’t have eleven

Jackie:That’s an even weirder number than 3!!

Jackie:Maybe we should stick to us 3

Jackie:No friends

Jackie:no gfs

Jackie:No psychics

Brita:no psychics? So we not going either?? LOL

“Hey, Jaida.” Widow came out of her room, waving to Jaida on the couch, as she walked past to the kitchen. Jaida gave her a smile and a wave back.

Widow was still walking a little slower than usual, but finally getting back into a routine. She’d flown back from KC on Sunday night, but even the week before that, she’d seemingly made some progress. She had even started coming to talk to Jaida, feeling a bit more comfortable sharing things with her.

Jaida was struck with inspiration.

Brita:also Jackie why cant u just type a message in one line Xx

Jaida:I got it, my housemate Widow to make it 12 x

Jackie: Who?

Brita:yeah u may not have met her yet

Brita:Jai I thought u said she doesn’t like big crowds xx

Jaida: something tells me things may change x

Friday 17thNovember

7.25PM

“Child, I still don’t get why it’s called football.” Jaida teased Jan, as they sat waiting for their turns to come back round. Heidi was lining up her shot in the distance, but neither Jaida nor Jan knew the scores at this moment. “They don’t even use their feet! They use their hands! And it’s not a ball! It’s an egg! Hand-egg!”

“Jai, if you insult my precious Patriots one more time, I’ll –“

“Jan! Focus!” Heidi was calling her. “Your shot, boo!”

“Be right back after I hit a strike!” Jan reached over to kiss Jaida gently on the lips.

“Oh, so you’re not coming back?” Jaida tutted, unable to stop the grin spreading across her face. Jan playfully slapped her arm and grinned back at her.

The aisles were only good for six people each, so they’d booked two beside each other, and it looked like couples’ night in the opposite lane. Brita’s impressive round of strikes and spares was almost matched by a few strikes from Crystal, all of which she claimed were flukes. She hadn’t stopped laughing all evening, clinging to Gigi, who smiled coolly and pushed her hair out of her eyes whenever Crystal did so. Gigi herself was making a respectable score behind the two of them, claiming to just have a magic touch.

Dahlia, however, kept sinking almost every ball into the drain and sulking as she did so, going into the sixth round with only seven points on the board. Aiden, whose twelve points were almost as bad, ended up insisting on the fences being raised after her third straight round of hitting nothing, prompting Rock to hit trick shots for the rest of the evening, bouncing her bowling balls between the fences and making her turns take twice as long.

It was Widow who came to sit in Jan’s empty seat, the mischievous glint in her eyes slowly returning as the days went on. Jaida returned her smile, and Widow reached and rubbed Jaida’s forearm.

“Thanks for inviting me, sis,” she muttered. “It’s – it’s a good night.”

When Jaida had asked, Widow had hesitated in coming out as part of a large group. Following Tori’s funeral the previous weekend, Widow had insisted on a quiet time all week. But the crowd brought her straight in, particularly Heidi and Brita, who she had already met. She even seemed to click with Jackie almost immediately, both of them shrieking with glee at discovering a mutual love of Overwatch and swapping Xbox names to link up later.

But Jackie and Widow were already competing. On the scoreboard in their lane, Widow was leading the team, but only by two points, with Jackie right behind her, almost matching every single strike. Jaida was enjoying seeing them show competitive sides that they rarely did, both of them playing up the competition by pointing menacingly at each other after each turn. Jaida, Jan, Heidi and Nicky were all lagging behind them, all in a cluster, but none of them minded; they were far too amused by Jackie and Widow to care.

Jaida looked at all their names altogether on the scoreboard, and the other names on the other lane. It still felt a little weird, but Jaida was actively trying to focus on it, and tell herself that it was all good. The separation she’d held onto for so long had crumbled, and here they all were – friends, colleagues, housemates, girlfriends – all in the same space.

And bringing her friends together, into one space in her life, made Jaida feel a lot more complete.

She grinned at Widow and turned to watch Jan, who was picking up every spare bowling ball and testing their weights, before commenting on the balls all being too big and settling on the lowest weight. Jackie, next to her, was giggling at her comment.

“You like them, now that you met them?”

“I hate to admit it, but yeah,” Widow chuckled. “They’re all really, uhm –“

“Exuberant? Energetic?”

“Loud,” Widow chuckled again. “I’m getting a headache. But – they’re all so nice as well.”

They were interrupted by a whoop of joy and a leap in the air; Jan had somehow managed a strike with her tiny ball and was twirling on the spot, her blonde hair spinning a whirlwind round her face and shoulders.

“Your girlfriend – Jan – is she your colleague as well?” Widow motioned to Jan.

“No, I met her through Brita.”

“And the three students? Sorry, I can’t remember their names.”

“I can’t discuss the case, but I met them through work.”

“And the girl with blue hair?”

“That’s Dahlia’s girlfriend, Rock.”

“Rock?” Widow repeated. “As in, rock solid? Rock ‘n’ roll?”

“Yeah,”

Widow’s eyes moved between them all on the opposite lane. Gigi was lazily twirling a finger through one of Crystal’s curls, while Crystal gazed enraptured at the scoreboard, for once still and silent; Gigi seeming to be the only person able to quieten her. Aiden, whose turn it was, held a bowling ball to her torso and was trying to keep a straight face as Brita, stood next to her, held another ball and was somewhat innocently demonstrating which fingers were best to use for the holes.

In their own lane, Jan and Jackie were calling to Nicky, whose turn it was; but Nicky was curled under Heidi’s arm in the booth next to them, her long legs swung over Heidi’s lap, holding her phone and scrolling down while they both stopped for a few seconds, chuckling at whatever was on the webpage they were going through.

Jaida smiled at Widow’s bemused expression. “You’ll get used to them.”

——

THE END

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minidigidestined · 5 years ago

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Coiled Hope Pt. 2

Second part to my fun fantasy monster story using Spectrum and Cinnamon, my darling and I’s nagasonas. This one focuses on revealing more about the world and story, and has some very self indulgent g/t angst and fluff!

When a group of monster hunters attack the mountain during Cinnamon’s hunting lesson, both she and Spectrum Maximus find themselves overwhelmed by the sudden threat. Cinnamon grapples with her fear of the unknown and the desire to fight for her home, inspired by her now giant friend’s fierce conviction and unrelenting protection.

BOOM!

Cinnamon gasped in shock, slamming against the thick trunk of a pine. Struggling, she pushed herself up and resisted the urge to start desperately burrowing into the sodden dirt below.

A few yards ahead, her dear friend and guide to the mountain, Spectrum, loomed. Typically, he was always much larger than her–but now he was positively giant. He had to be standing at least thirty feet tall, and that wasn’t even counting the length of his serpentine tail. Its iridescence was almost blinding now, the apple-reds and rusty oranges typical to rainbow boas blazing like fire and sparking polychromatic as it lashed back and forth like a whip. An unimaginably large whip.

Cinnamon shrunk back, a cold sweat beading on her brow. One second the hunter had her in a chokehold and her tail rope-casted in place, a knife pressed to her throat as she watched a doe, her first prey to bring back to the folk village, skip away… And in the next, the sky was blacked out and her sneering captor was flung into a boulder.

She gazed at the red smear on the rock with a numb sense of relief, the color as deep as poppy blossoms and seeming to grow deeper by the second.

She could drown in that red.

Spectrum looked over his shoulder at her, his sunshine eyes softening as they locked with hers. She gulped and forced herself to hold his gaze, the air seeming to still between them.

“I’m sorry.” Spectrum’s voice held a world of grief all their own. “I didn’t want to scare you… It only gets hard to control if I’m angry, and I was so sure I could never be angry around you.”

“You’re…not a naga, are you?” Cinnamon’s voice trembled. “You’re not like me.” Something small broke inside her.

“Not completely, no. But I can’t explain, not right now. These humans stink of machines, and I think they’ve brought their trash cans with them. I need you to get away, okay? I’m gonna take care of this.”

“Switch the quarry!” A human voice shouted, followed by the mechanical sound of tire treads. The trees shook. “Get the big male! That skin will fetch a mighty good coin. Then we raid for ore!”

Without thinking, Cinnamon shot forward, her body horizontal to the ground as her muscular coil propelled her. “Spectrum, no! We gotta get outta here, come with me!” The terror of losing her only friend outweighed the fear of the unknown, and she rammed directly into his tail, smashing her face into the armor-like scales. “Please! Get small again!”

He smiled down at her, almost as bright as his sunlit scales. “Don’t worry, Cin. I’ll take care of this. I won’t let humans steal another home from–”

The rainbow boa’s words drowned in a sea of gunfire, the sound drowning out Cinnamon’s screams as she desperately tried to burrow herself into him, instinct taking full control.

“I’ve got you.” Spectrum’s voice was as reassuring as ever, but it seemed to hold a murderous glint. Before the little sand boa knew it, she was scooped up and rising higher in his hands, his fingers closing tightly, gently, protectively around her. She pulled her tail closer into her body, the end wriggling wildly with panic. She had never felt so small in her life, even as a newborn in the labs!

Spectrum snarled, lips peeled back to reveal his wicked sharp teeth, his free hand curling his fingers into claws. He pressed the fist enshrouding Cinnamon to his chest, his heartbeat a thunderous echo, and she could hear him steadying his breath. She had only ever seen her friend lazy and smiling, enjoying a nice stew and languidly dipping his tail into the creek while she told him stories from her old books.

Now though, he was all warrior.

“I won’t let you hurt this mountain or anyone on it.” A low hiss built in his throat, completely inhuman and dangerous. “This is my home and you will not take it, hunters.”

She felt a glimmer of pride spark in her chest. Yes, he had always been this warrior, only quietly, softly, kindly. She couldn’t recall a time when his eyes weren’t burning with the conviction she heard now.

She felt her body lowering down and steeled herself against the brief vertigo, squeaking as Spectrum placed her in a thicket of tall grass ringed with startling red poppies. Like the blood… She shook the thought off, looking up and grimacing at the bright red welts covering in his skin. “Thank you.”

For a moment, the lazy smile was back. “Always.” And then he turned, the warning siren of his hiss ringing out and he lowered himself horizontal to the ground, tail arched and ready to lunge.

Cinnamon crouched, her scarlet shawl blending in perfectly with the poppies, eyes wide as she focused on the battle, willing herself to fight her base instinct to flee and instead to be brave.

Two tank like machines, pale blue targeting lights locking onto Spectrum, rolled forward into the clearing and bulldozed anything in their way. Smaller machines, shaped something akin to buffalo and mounted with artillery flanked them, and beyond that a group of humans in metal armor.

Spectrum feigned a lunge and leaned back, his tail sweeping forward in a wide arc and managing to send one of the tanks careening. He slammed the muscular coil down and crushed one of the mechanical buffalo, grimacing and gritting his teeth against the brief electric shock of it.

Artillery pumped at him from all sides, not fatal, but creating little pinpricks that blossomed blood and pain in his flesh. He brought up his coil, the scales much tougher, and used it to block the worst, reeling back and grunting with the effort.

He’s strong, but there’s so many… Cinnamon swallowed hard, breaking a poppy stem in her hand. How can he do this?

One of the tanks whirred with energy, the humans whooping as something unfolded from it’s back. Orange light blazed, bright enough to combat even Spectrum’s shine, and then a loud mechanized shriek sent Cinnamon reeling to the ground from the sheer pain of the sound.

Spectrum roared, the ground shaking as he fell back and gripped his shoulder, the flesh there unfurling like a flower. He grunted as he tore the harpoon missile casing from his wound, snapping the rappel cables and throwing it back at the hunters, crushing a few of them along the way. Blood dripped down his chest and down to his hips, his breath ragged as he pressed a hand to the torn flesh.

Cinnamon began to shift forward, anxious to find a way to help, when a hand snagged her ponytail and began to pull her back. A scream died in her throat as she met the eyes of another hunter, his face calculating as he seemed to assess her in mere seconds. She thought of Spectrum, giant and still vulnerable, fighting an entire platoon of hunters for their home, the other fair folk in the village, for her and felt something ignite.

She didn’t want to cower and burrow anymore–she didn’t want to bow her head and complete tests for a pat on the head and a meager serving of awful pellets. She didn’t want to be stuck in one room her whole life, curling around the legs of her Master–as good as she was–like a common pet. She didn’t want to be hauled off and drugged out of her mind, dumped in the wild to die.

She wanted to fight.

The sand boa twisted around, a sudden hiss building in her chest, just as wild and ferocious as Spectrum’s. The hunter seemed surprised, obviously put off by her soft frame and features. Fat, soft and pampered as she may be though, she was still a fair folk–a monster to humans like him. She still had teeth and claws and coils and rage.

Using the human’s shock to her advantage, Cinnamon rose high on her tail and struck, slashing her claws across the hunter’s face. Blood welled on his cheek as he reared back to slap her, the sudden backhand sending her flying back into the poppies.

Stars exploded in her vision, the white noise of fear returning, but she inhaled and caught herself with her coil, skidding through the tall grass. The hunter was already upon her again–something sharp glinting in his fist–and she twisted away on her tail, gasping as the blade grazed her soft underbelly.

She raked her claws across his back, the man arching with a cry of pain. Before he could turn fully around, she wove expertly around him, giving into a new instinct–hunting. Today was her first lone hunting expedition, after all.

She lunged forward, sinking her teeth deep into the meaty flesh between his shoulder and neck, grimacing at the musky taste of sweat and blood. The man groaned and slammed a fist into her back, right between the shoulders, but she slashed her claws down his arms and only bit deeper, ignoring the thrumming pain from his desperate strikes.

Everything seemed to be coming fluid to her now though, and her tail seemed to have a life of it’s own. Her muscles flexed, powerful and thick beneath the scales and fat, wrapping around the hunter in breakneck speed and constricting him. He gasped for breath, his bones seeming to groan beneath her inhuman strength.

She held him tight in her jaws and coils, feeling as he started to go limp, feeling as something cracked, feeling as the panicked rise and fall of his chest began to slow.

Unease pricked at her, and she fought the urge to kill, to--yuck–consume. She knew she could fight, but wasn’t sure if she was ready to kill. This hunter wasn’t worth the sleepless nights she knew would come. Not yet.

She released him from her bite with a pop, her coils loosening and unfurling. He fell to the ground, breathing shallowly as he looked up at her, blood staining her lips and jawline, trickling down her neck. Pure hatred burned in his gaze.

“Never come back.” She wiped her mouth with the hem of her shawl, her own breath heavy. “This…is a special place. You don’t belong here, and if you come back, I’ll kill you.” The words were fragile.

He opened his mouth as if to argue, but his eyes began to roll back and he slumped forward, unconscious. Cinnamon’s tongue flicked out, scenting the air, and beneath the blood and smoke and sweat, he was still alive.

The sand boa turned, her body already thrumming with soreness from the hunter’s strikes and the slash across her underbelly. She watched as Spectrum roared, overturning the second tank with his tail and grabbing it in both hands, growling with effort as he pulled. He ripped it right in half, hissing as it burned his hands, and quickly caught the small humans trying to leap away.

The rainbow boa flicked one into the trunk of a tree, then let another fall straight to the ground. Cinnamon gulped hard, her gaze falling down to the blood caked beneath her claws.

“Leave, unless the rest of you wish to die too.” Blood dripped sluggishly from the wound at his shoulder, more blood splattered across his fists, the underbelly of his tail, and staining his teeth. His chest heaved with every breath, and despite the ferocity in his eyes, Cinnamon could see his frame shake with fatigue. The projectile and artillery had taken their toll.

Five humans and their mechanical buffalo remained, the machines pacing anxiously behind their masters. One hunter gripped his automatic rifle and stepped forward, voice hard despite his trembling. “We’ll be back. You can’t protect this mountain forever, beast. Where there’s money to be made, humans follow. And once we unlock that portal… Your world will be gone for good, and then we’ll wipe every last one of you off our damn planet.”

Spectrum slammed his fists into the ground, baring his teeth and roaring right in their faces. Their foes flinched and cowered, but as he rose up to his full height, they began falling back and began their terrified scramble down the mountain.

The massive naga closed his eyes, tilting his head up to the sun. It beamed down upon him and seemed to set him aflame, the blood covering his body like war paint. Cinnamon slithered forward, breast heaving with exhaustion, her own war paint now dry and flaking. “…Spectrum?”

He turned, his eyes instantly softening upon her. “Cinnamon.”

She slithered closer to him, tongue flicking out to scent the carnage in the air. “Are…are you okay?”

Spectrum smiled, bending down to meet her. “It’s hard to shrink back down when I’m still…emotional. Can I pick you up to hear you better?”

She smiled shyly despite herself. “Of course. I… I trust you, Spectrum.”

He held his massive hand before her, grimacing at the bloodstains. She chuckled reassuringly, slithering up to it. Anchoring her tail by circling it around one of his fingers, she met his eyes as he began to carefully lift her higher. “Are you still angry?”

“No, I’m relieved it was a small group and they’re gone more than anything, I just…” The corner of his mouth quirked when he looked at her, and she swore he reddened in the face. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“I’m glad you’re okay too.” She squeezed his finger tighter in her coil, now more desperate than anything else to see him smile again. “Those were the hunters you mentioned coming by to try and track our kind? What were they talking about with a portal? I thought they just hunted down fair folk and magic ores…”

Spectrum sighed, frowning. “Well, to start I… I’m the protector of this mountain, Cin. I guess I didn’t tell you because it didn’t seem important, I didn’t remember, but I guess it is…”

“You didn’t remember to tell me you’re the hero of the mountain?”

He finally grinned, sheepish. “Well… I was having so much fun with you, I just kinda forgot. But, where my mother was a naga, my father was a fairy. He was the previous guardian of the mountain, a really powerful sorcerer. There’s a few different peaks around earth that are the epicenters for fair folk communities and refuge, as you’ve seen. They’re the places on Earth that have always had magic.”

“Always?”

“We…are not from the Other, Cinnamon. Fair Folk have been on Earth far longer than humans, but they tried to drive us extinct. Our ancestors created a dimension we could leave to, to be safe. To survive. But…we wanted our world back. Slowly, we figured how to return through portals, and a rebellion began. The Cataclysm sixty seven years ago was the first big strike in taking back our world. My parents were part of that, and guarded this stronghold. They’re gone, but I remain. And so do the descendants of those that cast us out… part of that crew was this particular band of hunters. You can tell by their machines.”

Cinnamon blinked, feeling the new information sink down into her bones. “Spectrum Maximus. Are you one of the leaders of this Rebellion?”

Spectrum’s eyes glinted with pride. “I am. I want this world to be wild again, for our kind to be free and bring life back to this broken earth. I know there are good humans here, like your caretaker, and we do all we can to spare them, show them the truth… But this world is dying. We want to save it. I want to heal it, by any means necessary. Cinnamon, will you…would you fight with me?”

The dried blood on her skin, between her teeth, under her nails, all of it mirrored his own. She looked down, head pounding. “I…I don’t know, Spectrum. This is a lot.”

“It’s okay.” He said hastily, moving her closer to his face. “You… You don’t need to fight. I just want you by my side. We’ve only known each other a few months now, but I feel more…me with you than I ever have. You make me feel like there’s more than the war. I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to scare you.”

The sand boa, tiny in his huge hands, smiled, absolutely beside herself. “I feel that way too. You make me feel like I’m worth fighting for… That I can believe in something more than the cage and admittedly very flimsy safety I’ve always had. You make me feel like a person, like I matter just because I’m me.” She leaned back, trying to squint tears away as she pressed her face against the pad of his thumb. “You make me feel safe. Finally, truly safe. Thank you.”

Spectrum blinked, his lips parting before he bent his head down to her. “No, Cinnamon. Thank you.”

The tiny snake blushed, feeling her skin go electric. “You’re the dearest friend I’ve ever had. Whether I fight or not, I’m with you. I want to stay with you.”

And before she knew it, she pressed her lips against his thumb, the digit only slightly smaller than her torso. A quick kiss, sweet and soft, but it held something like the birth of a star, the affection spreading through both of them like sunshine.

Spectrum grinned a dopey grin, or at least more dopey than usual, and blushed right back. His adam apple bobbed anxiously at his throat. “I want to stay with you too. Always.” His mouth hovered over her. “Is it okay if I…?”

She leaned up, pressing her tiny face against the velvet of his lips in answer. An unexpected kiss, an awkward one, but at one glance it was obvious that it was the truest thing each of them had ever felt.

“I love you, Cinnamon.”

“I love you too, Spectrum. Always.”

X-x-X

Cinnamon curled up in Spectrum’s lap, his tail curving beneath her and cupping her against his belly. She pressed herself against the soft pudge and fuzz, enjoying the coolness of his skin and scales against her cheek and arms. He ran a hand through her tangle of unbound curls, eyes closed as their friend, Sassafras the dryad, prepared healing potions for them.

“I can’t believe you ate humans. Five! I thought you said you didn’t eat people!” The sand boa’s tone was accusatory, but her coil languidly intertwined with the rainbow boa’s own. Her soft whites, pinks and browns contrasted with his bold, fiery scales and she was round everywhere that he was all edges–and oh, how they fit together perfectly in their opposition. The most carefully put together puzzle ever made, this newborn love.

“I said I wouldn’t eat you, okay?! And I don’t even like eating humans, but it gets them to run away fast! They see old Todd get eaten up and then they just go running!” He didn’t open his eyes, but his signature shit eating grin was as wide and toothy as ever.

“You’re gross.” She snorted, doing her best to stifle a blush as she pushed her cheek into his belly. Sassafras had bandaged them both up well with cloth and poultices, spending equal portions of time applying salves and tutting over their recklessness.

“Yeah, well you can’t say anything after your street fight with that big guy. I really didn’t know you had it in you! I guess I better be careful about how much I tease you.”

“That’s right.” Cinnamon smirked, flicking his arm and wincing as the bruised muscles in her shoulders strained.

One of Spectrum’s eyes cracked open, a golden half moon. “Careful.” He said, cupping her cheek. “You’ll have all the time in the world to whip my tail when you’re healed.”

Her own eyes fluttered pink like spring blossoms, both their coils intertwining comfortably in a shining, elegant twist of color. Even when the latent magic of his blood wasn’t spiraling out of control, he was still so big, his hands dwarfing her own, his arms enshrining her.

Sassafras turned, wispy curls like vines framing the dark brown bark of her face. Though her mouth was set in a stern line, her eyes glimmered with sweetness. “Alright, this is gonna taste awful, but I need you both to drink it all up.”

“Can’t I just get an infection and go into sepsis instead?” Spectrum joked. “I get a full body shudder when I take your potions and that can’t possibly be healthy!”

“If you don’t want to eat gross potions and have ointments rubbed on nearly every inch of your skin,” she gestured to the welts across his body from the artillery. “And have to wear bandages from being hit by a LITERAL missile, then I suggest you stop running fangs-first right into battle without telling anyone!”

“Okay first, it was more harpoon than missile. Second, Cinnamon was there!”

The sand boa in question winced as Sassafras’ steel gaze turned on her. “Yes, I never thought you would be coming to my tree covered in blood and bruises! This lump of an oaf is turning you into another troublemaker!”

“What can I say?” Spectrum beamed. “I think we make a pretty good pair of ruffians.” She giggled as he ruffled her hair, clutching the free hand on his injured arm gently, reassuringly. Sassafras advanced, balancing two potions in one hand so she could place one on her hip, unable to suppress a smile of her own.

This really was home.

This really was worth fighting for.

#g/t #giant/tiny #gt #monster #naga #lamia #g/t community #implied vore #size difference #gt fluff #gt angst #my writing #coiled hope #extreme cuddling #fearplay

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ifinallygavein · 4 years ago

Text

Back Seat Heart Beat

Hey guys!! Just a little Bryce and Hunt action for ya. Had to do it I was missing them so much and this song inspired me so much!

**DISCLAIMER** I’m not from the South, or New York. I also don’t know how to dance at all. So, everything I’ve written here is from quick research.

**WARNING** 18+

This song was the inspiration: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K2nz3o-8x5U

And this video was how I learned about the Virginia Reel: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uBBdgcHimoM&t=278s

Feel free to comment and reblog! I love hearing feed back. Enjoy!

Bryce finally finished on the hair it took her an hour to style like she hadn’t done anything to it. She only had a chance to admire herself in the flirty red dress she’d chosen for a minute before her friends pounced on her.

“Are you finally ready?” Lehabah teased.

“I want to get laid tonight. So, I had to put in a little work.”

“You won’t get laid if you’re not even there. Let’s go! I’ve never line danced before.” Juniper hooked Bryce’s arm with hers and dragged her out of their hotel room.

Bryce snorted. She knew that was the entire reason they were going out tonight. Juniper had never been line dancing and thought going to a real honky-tonk was the best way to learn.

“If you’re going to get laid, be back before check out at 11 tomorrow. We need to keep moving to Florida.” Fury demanded.

Bryce rolled her eyes. “Don’t rain on my parade. Besides, you know my rule about not staying the night.”

Juniper blurted, “I know. It’s just that I’m so excited to get to this dance competition and you know it makes me anxious to be late.”

Bryce held up her hands in defeat. “Okay, okay, I get it. Be back or else.”

“Damn right,” Fury muttered, not one to let her girlfriend’s dreams be crushed in any capacity.

The four squeezed into the uber outside of their hotel and speculated excitedly about what they’d find at the bar. They were all New Yorkers, and on their journey to Florida they stopped in Georgia. Juniper insisted they go to a honky-tonk bar to enjoy the music and dancing that was so different from their big city clubs. All of them agreed that drinking and dancing was drinking and dancing and relented. Their uber dropped them off outside the bar and the girls were glad they’d used a ride instead of driving. Not only were they all planning on getting hammered, but the parking lot was filled to capacity with lifted pick-up trucks.

Lehabah dashed ahead and trotted backwards beckoning them towards her. “Let’s go. After a 13-hour drive, I need a drink.”

Bryce jogged up to her, careful not to turn her ankle in the gravel lot. They left the couple behind and went straight to the bar.

“When in Rome,” Lehabah muttered to Bryce then ordered two whiskeys from the bartender.

Bryce was surprised by how pleasant the atmosphere was. She was expecting a lot of tobacco smoking and spitting with old men that were missing teeth playing the harmonica. Instead she got a nice bar with a regular band and a huge dance floor. Bryce had barely taken a sip of her whiskey when Juniper was at her side tugging on her elbow.

“The band is starting. Come line dance with me.”

As the only two dancers there, Bryce knew Juniper would drag her onto the floor because she was the only one that could keep up. While she wasn’t a professional like her friend, Bryce had danced for years and loved it almost as much as Juniper. She passed her drink off to Lehabah and followed Juniper to the dance floor.

“Do you know like any steps?” Bryce asked.

“Nope.”

Bryce chuckled and winked. She didn’t mind not knowing the steps. Doing was learning for her and she was a fast learner. The band started up and the crowd on the dance floor started to move around them. Juniper and Bryce mimicked the steps they observed from the people around them. The line dancing wasn’t too hard for the two dancers to pick up. What they weren’t expecting was for someone to shout, “Y’all in for a Virginia reel?”

Bryce and Juniper turned to each other, eyebrows raised as deafening whoops filled the honky-tonk. Together they joined the line for women and watched the head couple closely. Across the way, Bryce’s partner snagged her eye.

Usually her type wasn’t a man in cowboy boots and hat… but this cowboy was hot. Dark hair and eyes, a tight t-shirt and jeans that fit him just right. As she clapped, Bryce didn’t hide the fact that she was watching and he soon looked at her, like he could feel her gaze. Once he did, she winked and he laughed, not missing a beat with his clapping.

Juniper elbowed her. “Did you find a contender?”

Bryce brazenly surveyed him and bit her lip. “Maybe I did.”

They were the last two in line. As more and more couples went, the more sure Bryce and Juniper became about the steps. Juniper met up with her partner at the head of the line before Bryce and executed her turn flawlessly. Just as Bryce knew she would. Stepping up to her place at the head of the line, she felt completely confident after watching for so long.

She moved forward and bowed, maintaining eye contact with her sexy partner, who tipped his hat and winked. She laughed and nodded. He spun her through the left and right elbow swings. Every time they made contact it felt like lighting was shooting through her body. When they circled holding hands she knew he could feel her sweaty palms from his grin. She made a face at him, which only made his smile grow. They dosey-doed and see-sawed without a problem. It was a very short reprieve from the electric contact. All too short, before they’d grabbed hands again and slid down the line and back. Her hands felt like lightning struck them but she couldn’t help laughing with excitement at the dance. They whirled down the line, exchanging partners then returning to one another. When they reached the end, they slid hand in hand back to the front. Then peeled off, leading their lines around until they came together and made an arch for the other dancers. Her partner made eye contact, breathing heavily with a huge smile on his face. Bryce’s heart fluttered. They all cheered as the last couples skipped through their arch and completed the dance.

Bryce laughed and high-fived her partner, out of breath from their stint of the dance. “I think I need a drink after that.” She had to shout over the racket around them.

“Me too. Let me buy you one.” Bryce nodded trying to maintain her cool, but his southern drawl didn’t make it easy to catch her breath. She followed him to the bar and leaned against it panting. “What would you like, miss?”

“Water, please.”

“Make that two, thanks,” he told the bartender with a nod. He held out his hand. “I’m Hunt Athalar.”

Surprised, she gripped his hand and shook it. “Bryce Quinlan, nice to meet you.”

She was taken by his manners. No one in New York shook hands and said thank you or called you miss. He noted her hesitation and said, “You aren’t from around here, are you, Bryce?”

She laughed. “Is it that obvious?”

“Your accent does give you away. Where are you from?”

Bryce snorted. Her accent? “I live in New York City, but I grew up in Buffalo. What about you, Hunt? Where are you from?”

He took a drink from the water the bar tender had just set in front of them, then said, “Right here, born and raised.”

“I bet you don’t get a lot of Yankees down here.” She teased.

Hunt shrugged. “Some. But none that can dance like you.”

Bryce took a sip before waving her hand and saying, “That was nothing. The friend I came with is the real dancer. A professional actually.”

“Well, I think you were a damn good partner.” He leaned slightly closer and Bryce caught a whiff of his cologne.

A little light-headed now she replied, “You weren’t so bad yourself.”

They talked a little bit about where they were from, where they planned on going, and the journey between. But Bryce could hardly focus with the subtle touches between them. He stood almost nose to nose with her, her hand rested on his forearm and his hand was grazing her waist. Finally, she couldn’t stand the tension anymore.

“Would it be too forward if I asked if you wanted to get out of here?” she let her hands trail higher up his arm until it rested on his chest.

His hand slid from her waist to the small of her back, so it felt as though they were embracing. “I thought you’d never ask.”

She huffed a laugh. “I didn’t want to upset your delicate sensibilities. You’re too polite for me.”

“No such thing, miss. But if it bothers you that much, I can be a lot less polite.”

Bryce’s whole body was electrified. Lightning radiated from the hand he pressed against her lower back. “Let’s get out of here then.”

“My place?”

Bryce shrugged. “As long as you can get me back before 11 tomorrow.”

“It’s a deal.” He grinned.

They walked out of the bar hand in hand, as Hunt led her to his truck. She stumbled slightly over the gravel under her booties’ heels. Without hesitation he hoisted her up and carried her the rest of the way to his truck. The feeling of his hard body against hers nearly sent her control off a cliff. Not soon enough, they were on the road. Hunt may have been speeding a little bit.

Without hesitation, he reached over the middle divider and grabbed her hand. Bryce was surprised, but not opposed to the contact. Just to tease him she let her fingers ghost over his hand and wrist. Drawing patterns up and down. Occasionally letting her nail scratch him. He went rigid and Bryce could hear the engine rev as he stepped on the gas. She didn’t want to wait and made it her goal to get him to pull over. Knowing it would make him even crazier, she raised Hunt’s hand to her lips. He inhaled sharply and focused harder on the road.

She started out easy on him. Lightly trailing her lips around his hand and fingers and wrist. But she wanted him at her mercy. She sucked a finger into her mouth and heard him swear. Bryce nibbled on it and let her teeth scrape up the length of it before she released it.

“Are you looking for a place to pull over?”

“Actively,” he ground out.

Bryce continued her ministrations until Hunt had pulled the truck onto a service road. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled Bryce’s lips to his. The kiss was red hot. She ran her fingers through Hunt’s hair, pushing his cowboy hat off. Their lips and tongues clashed together passionately as they pulled at each other’s clothes. Bryce yanked his t-shirt off and Hunt had shimmied the straps of her dress down her arms. She kicked off her booties and climbed into the back seat with Hunt right on her heels.

Bryce sat him down and straddled his lap, kissing him frantically anywhere she could reach while fumbling to undo his button and zipper. When she finally released the restraints Bryce panted, “Condom?”

“Glove box.”

She maneuvered so she was sitting with her back to him, reaching over the seats to dig through the glove box. When she sat back with a condom in her hand Hunt held her flush to him, arm around her waist, hand resting on her throat, then allowed it sit at the apex of her legs and began to play with the bundle of nerves there. Bryce gasped and leaned her head back against his shoulder. He kissed down her neck to her shoulder and followed the strap of her bra down her back. Hunt slowed his kisses as he went along the band of her bra until he came to the clasp. Bryce felt his tongue caress her spine as he used his teeth to undo it. She threw it off her and turned so she was straddling his lap.

Her red dress hung off her hips, exposing Bryce’s torso. Hunt’s eyes roamed freely over her skin, pupils blown so his dark eyes looked black. Finally, their gazes met. “Are you ready?”

He didn’t make a move until Bryce breathed, “Yes.”

Hunt leaped at her wrapping his arms around her, hands roving over her back until one of them settled in her hair cradling Bryce’s head as their lips moved against each other. Bryce grabbed his face and let her fingers tangle in his hair. She separated them and opened the condom, sliding it onto his length. Bryce’s heartbeat pounded in her chest as she pushed aside her panties and lowered herself onto him. His eyes didn’t leave hers until her lids fluttered shut, overwhelmed with need. Hunt kissed the throat she bared to him as her head fell back in ecstasy.

Slowly, she began to grind back and forth. Hunt ran his hands all over her back and hips while his lips found her breasts. She gasped when he pulled a nipple into his mouth. Bryce’s nails dug into his shoulders as she rode him harder. Her moans grew louder as Hunt continued to touch her everywhere. Sooner than she expected her climax began to build.

“Hunt, I’m so close.” She groaned. He ran his hands over her thighs, deepening the intensity of his kisses, not doing anything to change her pace. “Hunt, I – I – oh! Hunt!”

Her hips continued rocking as she moaned through her release. When she finished Hunt kissed her sloppily and murmured, “That’s a good girl. Now it’s my turn.”

She groaned at his words. He put his arm around her so Bryce was locked against him as he rose and laid her back against the seat. She scratched his back as he began to move at the pace he desired. His hand had a white-knuckle grip on the oh-shit-handle. The other roved over her throat as Bryce laid back and took in the view of his muscles rippling as he moved inside her. She looked down and groaned while she watched where they were connected. Bryce held his wrist where it had been over her throat. Hunt’s hand squeezed lightly, and he asked, “You like this?”

Bryce grinned and nodded. He didn’t squeeze very hard, but it was in just the right place to give her the sensation she desired. She wrapped her legs around him to pull him closer. Hunt let go of the handle and let his hand settle on her hip. Bryce put her hand in his hair and pulled his head back enough to gain access to his throat. His groan as she began to kiss and bite his neck only encouraged her. Hunt’s pace got faster, and his thrusts came harder and harder until he had a bruising grip on Bryce’s hip as he used it for leverage. He used his light grip on her throat to pull her face up and gave her a deep kiss. She drank in the moan he spilled onto her lips. His hips stuttered and his breathing became ragged.

“I’m coming, Bryce. Oh, shit.”

“That’s right come for me,” she whispered in his ear, and nipped his ear lobe.

When he finished he collapsed onto her chest. They laid together, breathing heavily. Sated, all Bryce could do was stare forward at the fogged window. After a minute, Hunt sat up and looked at her.

“Can I have your number?”

Bryce tilted her head. She ground her hips against his, where they were still connected, eliciting a moan from Hunt, and said, “Maybe after round two. Get us to your place, cowboy.”

He gave her sloppy kiss before climbing into the front seat to do just that.

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