#it looks pretty cool actually! sure covering up the entire thing in canvas would probably look even cooler

[ayakashibackstreet]

Oh, also, I mostly finished my most recent bookbinding project! Despite me not managing to get the stuff I wanted, I think it mostly turned out pretty nice, especially for the first time giving an already existing book a hardcover. Also, you're telling me actual bookbinding glue that my grade school teacher would always praise is actually way, way better than the cheap craft glue I was using? How could that be.

[regrettablewritings]

Soulmate AU: The First Drawing You See From Your Soulmate is Tattooed on Your Skin

A detective having a tell would probably be considered inappropriate to most people. Detectives were supposed to read tells, not have them. But then again, Benoit had never been much for keeping up appearances. Besides, what was the harm in rubbing his thumb along his right wrist? It helped him focus; it helped him think.

Or at least, that was what he’d told himself. He wasn’t entirely lying, either, rather the larger whole of it all was more so that when he rubbed that spot on his skin, he felt calm. Composed. He liked to think that that was the feeling his soulmate had intended when they painted that image, whenever they made or would make it. Whatever it was. After all, it had plenty of blue in it.

He was pretty sure it was meant to be a pond or some kind of body of water; that might explain the blues and greens and maybe the bits of white that he could make out. And if he squinted his eyes a little, he could swear there were little flecks of gold. Goldfish, maybe? Honestly, he had no clue. Benoit wasn’t much for complaining or expressing a lack of gratefulness, but he couldn’t help but sometimes feel envious of those whose tattoos covered a larger part of their body. Not a massive amount, but at least just enough to be able to tell precisely what the heck their soulmate’s image was trying to portray. Clearly, the image was larger than what that patch of his skin could afford, and honest to God, he’d spent a good part of his life trying to make out what it was!

(The embarrassment of it all, he would sometimes muse deprecatingly: That the acclaimed “Last of the Gentlemen Sleuths” could solve the most absurd cases in the country, yet had spent most of his natural-born life completely stumped by what might as well have counted as a body part!)

And yet, Benoit could never stay frustrated about it; not when his thumb gently grazed against the image, imagining the smoothness of his skin ebbing into the aquatic swirls of the proposed water. But just for extra precaution, he saw no harm in distracting himself.

That afternoon’s distraction? A quick skim of the local paper, accompanied by a mug of hot tea. He tried not to think of how such a method revealed his age, instead snapping the paper open to a page discussing the local goings-on. It was the usual sort of content: The community theater’s spring production was seeking house crew members, a mom and pop-style restaurant was having an anniversary special . . . It was the same sort of thing Benoit had grown used to expecting.

But what his pale blue eyes landed on next didn’t make the rest pale by comparison -- it downright washed all else from existence: An art show.

Benoit considered himself a well-rounded person, but it was more so in an almost tongue in cheek sort of manner: As a detective, it was his job to be appropriately versed in an assortment of fields. However, a jack of all trades was never truly a master of none. Benoit’s experiences with art theft and forgeries had lent him a hand in only about as much observation as was necessary for the respective occurrences.

But . . . he knew those swirls. He knew that blue, those greens, that white -- he recognized how the gold was patterned! Sure, the cheap ink job of a colored newspaper picture might have dulled the quality ever so slightly but there was no mistake to be made: That painting was his. No . . . It was theirs!

You tried to make calming breaths without making your anxiety obvious. A nervous but otherwise acceptable smile twitched into place, fooling the guests as they wandered about the gallery. Or, at least, you certainly hoped it was fooling them; but it was probably all to be outdone by the fact that you’d been nursing the same champagne flute for the last half-hour.

Is this what “making it” feels like? you wondered. Because if it was . . . you weren’t too fond of it. You felt bad for not relishing this opportunity; the art world was highly competitive, and you were more than blessed to have had the chance to not only display your work in a showroom, but to have said room be dedicated entirely to your pieces. But in that blessing was also a curse: The curse of criticism, of weary eyes, of people both waiting to pounce on you with ribbings of how you lack the magnanimity of the classics or the free thinking of the contemporaries --

Shitshitshitsmile! You did as you were told -- both by your brain, and by your manager earlier when they walked you through how you were to compose yourself through this entire ordeal. Just smile, enunciate when spoken to, and let the potential schmoozing flow and oh god, that Karen-looking lady who definitely owns a house in Martha’s Vineyard for when she wants to get away from her husband for a day totally hated that piece you’d spent months working on, didn’t she?!

The thought made your stomach twist, your already awkward smile along with it. You inhaled sharply. You had to find something to distract yourself with. 

You turned and faced the painting nearest to you. Some might call it vanity, but you were actually quite pleased with this particular piece. That, and its blueness gave you a sense of . . . serenity. You imagined the ripples washing over you and into you, the scent and sound of the painted environment gently caressing your nose and drowning out both the stench of perfume and pretentious chattering . . . And also, apparently, the sound of approaching footsteps.

You hadn’t realized anyone had joined your side until the rumble of a southern baritone carded through the water.

“It’s gorgeous. Isn’t it?”

You hadn’t meant to jump and appear so clumsy.

“Oh, sh -- ” You cut yourself short as you eyed the droplets of spilled, room temperature champagne. If your manager found out that you had cussed around a potential buyer, they would’ve mounted your head on the wall. Thankfully, however, the stranger didn’t appear at all fazed. If anything, the chuckle he responded with sounded genuinely amused.

“Oh, my dear girl, I’m terribly sorry!” he insisted, holding up his left hand. “I didn’t mean to scare you; I can imagine most anyone would be mighty transfixed over a piece like this.”

You gulped as you looked up at your unintentional scarer. His eyes were the same blue as the one that brought you calm just moments earlier, yet they had the almost opposite effect to you now. As you looked into them, you didn’t feel calm; not necessarily: Instead, you felt your heart beginning to ripple the pattern of the painting, your cheeks burning as bright as the gold swirling amongst the little waves. And yet you found yourself transfixed by them, only offered freedom when the older gentleman offered you a hint of a smile. A warm one.

Crap! Uh -- Answer his question! Think of something to say! your mind scrambled.

“Uh . . .” you stammered. The only way to save what atoms of confidence you still had left was to turn your eyes back to the painting. “I -- I should hope so.” Smooth. You tried to remember your calming breaths. You heard the man hum, shifting his position ever so slightly in your peripheral.

“What can you tell me about it?” he asked, revealing just how close to you he truly was. You could feel the warmth of his person and the richness of his voice vibrating into you. Or perhaps it was butterflies? Maybe both? Well, whatever it was, it almost made you stumble over your words. You’d spent the entire evening up to that point rehearsing stories of your inspirations, recounting whatever education you had to people who probably didn’t give a crap.

But this instance was different: Maybe it was foolishness sourced from a sudden and sophomoric attraction, but you almost wanted to believe that perhaps this man genuinely cared. That he was genuinely interested in what you as the actual artist had to say and not you as some painting mannequin made to recite lines over and over.

The excitement of such a possibility broke through your nerves . . . and, unfortunately, right out of your mouth.

“I just really wanted to paint a mermaid in a mall coin fountain,” you admitted. You wanted to kick yourself. Up until that point, you’d been rather proud of your nifty little idea. But when you said it out loud, you sounded ridiculous! You could barely hide the reactionary wince, much less how your breathing hitched and hiccuped with nervousness. Just as soon as it had come, the hope that perhaps this man was different disappeared, leaving you awaiting his ridicule.

A ridicule that never came. Instead, there was quiet between the both of you. Perhaps he was at a loss for words?

“Mm,” he hummed, making you tense with expectation. You glanced at him just enough to see him nod, his blue eyes still focused on the canvas before him. “Go on . . .”

You blinked. Was he . . . for real?

“I . . . What more is there to say?” you wondered. The entire night, nobody had really asked for more on your part. They usually just took whatever purple prose you gave them and left it at that. Your initial assumption was right after all: This gentleman was cut from a different cloth from the lot.

He pursed his lips and shrugged. “What inspired this?”

“Oh, uh . . . Well . . .” Was it worth telling him? Aw, hell: you’d already made a bit of a fool of yourself being honest, so what harm was there in doing it some more? “I did it because I never saw anything about a mermaid that lived in a mall fountain, collecting the coins people toss in there.”

You didn’t even have a chance to worry about his criticism before the man’s features broke into a smile. It wasn’t like the others’ more courteous grins; this one reached his eyes, making their icy coolness warm and welcoming. You hated the cheesiness of it all, but for a very split second you wished that you could be a mermaid in them.

He chuckled once again. “Can’t say that I’ve ever seen anything concerning a coin-hoarding mermaid myself, let alone a professional art piece.” It was small, but the assurance made you offer your own smile.

“Well . . . But then maybe I have . . .” At that, your heart dropped. There it was: The anticipated criticism. He thought you were a hack after all: Uninspired, boorish, unskilled, whatever word there was to describe a person who didn’t know how to use a fan brush properly if any.

The wound stung as one so sudden should: Heavily and down to your core. You wanted the floor to open up and eat you whole. Or better yet: You wanted to climb into your apparently uninspired painting and drown in the mall fountain. But none of those could be an option, and neither was the possibility of hiding in the bathroom or an empty corridor. Instead, you had to put on a brave face and do your best to get through the moment.

“Oh?” you uttered. Your throat pained from the threat of anxiety. “Where do you suppose? I’ll admit, I’m not much into contemporary art so I don’t know the what’s what of what if you catch my drift.” You tried to weakly smile at your sad attempt for a joke. God, this so wasn’t what “making it” felt like.

But the man didn’t offer a courteous hint of laughter. Nor did he offer you a verbal response. Instead, he turned to face you. You did the same, even though you really didn’t want to. But it was the polite and expected thing to do when being confronted. Damn politeness and courteousness.

You weren’t sure how to respond when the man began to make work of his right sleeve, unbuttoning the cuff and beginning to roll the rest of it up. Your paranoia was unfortunately the first to respond due to your preexisting discomfort of the entire ordeal of an evening. You were just about prepared to scream, yelp, make any kind of distressed call -- only for it to trickle out into a gasp. An amazed exhale. The image the man presented to you on his wrist was small. Clearly, for it to be recognized for what it was, it needed a larger stretch of skin to belong to. But you knew what it was: You knew those swirls, the placements of those flecks of gold, those blues and greens surrounded by white.

For the umpteenth time that evening, your breathing changed. Only, you were pretty positive that none of your deep breathing would be necessary this time around; you would be more than happy to look at your painting on your soulmate’s skin for the rest of the night.

Epilogue:

“Mr. Blanc, please,” you insisted. “You’ve grown up with that thing on your arm, surely you’re bored with it by now. You can have your pick of the gallery. Hell, I’ll even make you something on request!”

Pickings hadn’t become slim, but the night had ended surprisingly successful. Well, surprising to you: You hadn’t expected anyone to buy anything of yours that evening, let alone six. You supposed that perhaps they just wanted to participate in the elitism brought on by owning newcomer art. Benoit, however, insisted that the buyers simply had functioning eyes. What a sweet-talker your soulmate was.

You watched as he shook his head stubbornly, eyes still fixated on the painting that adorned his wrist. He’d seen all the other remaining paintings, and even the ones that wound up selling by evening’s end. They were all gorgeous, he insisted, but . . .

“Benoit, if you will, Ms. (Y/N),” he corrected, apparently missing the irony. He gestured insistently at the composition. “And no. I . . . I truly would be quite satisfied with this one.” He heard you raspberry in defeat as you made your way back to his side, folding your arms in exasperation. 

“Seriously, though,” you sighed. “Is a painting of a mermaid dwelling in, like, a fountain you can find nearby an Auntie Anne’s really . . .” You waved a hand as if searching for the right word. “. . . Befitting? Of a detective’s abode? I was thinking more of a bucolic piece or like a portrait of some kind or . . .” You trailed off, only to be met with an amused huff.

“Some detective I am,” Benoit muttered. He broke his gaze back to you and placed his hands on his hips. “Took me well over a damn decade or two to learn what it even was. And only because you told me!”

[i-see-thevision]

When Sparks Fly (M)

Part of ‘Heaven or Hell’ my Stray Kids Demon/Angel!au Series

Name: Bang Chan

Status: Demon

Special Abilities: Electrokinesis; Teleportation

Summary: In which you’re just a girl who finds solace in sitting on her terrace. And Chan is just a demon who’s become infatuated with how your legs swing.

Word Count: 8.3k

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content; Unprotected Sex (Wrap it before you tap it kids!); Virgin!Reader; A tiny bit of violence; Technical stalking??; Chan being himself lmao

• • •

The world is a funny place.

At least that’s what you thought. 

Being a newly turned 21 year old, the world expected you to be out drinking and partying every night. But here you sat, on the railing of the terrace of your apartment. 

You had just barely moved in, and you have already spent more time out on the terrace than in your own home. But the beauty of fresh air couldn’t be compared to anything, not even the excitement of a new apartment. Which again, most would disagree with.

You sat watching the people below. Watching their interactions, their basic movements. You were high up enough that no one would bother looking up to see you but you could still see them clearly.

People nowadays were just so odd. Everyone was so self-indulgent and conceded, even if it was completely unintentional. You never really thought much of the saying “stop and smell the roses,” until you moved out on your own.

But it’s true. Getting lost in the big picture often prevents people from cherishing the small moments that make it all worthwhile. It’s appreciating those little things, those small moments, that make you a little different from most people.

Your thoughts were interrupted by your phone buzzing in your back pocket.

You pulled it out to see who it was. You rolled your eyes when you read your boss’s name. Not that you didn't like your boss, you did. She was very reasonable and quite sweet. But a call from her usually meant that someone called out last minute and you were going to have to fill in for them. And you were very much enjoying your quiet time out on the terrace. But despite your irritation, you slid your thumb across the screen.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Kwon.” Your voice sounding as cheery as ever.

“Good afternoon, Y/n! I hope you're liking your new apartment! I do have a favor to ask of you, Tess has called out sick and I need someone to cover her evening shift. Would you be able to come at six?”

“Sure thing, Ms. Kwon. I’ll cover for her.” You forcibly smiled even though she couldn't see you, listening to her words of thanks before hanging up.

As soon as the call ended you looked at the time. It was half past three. 

With a heavy sigh, you stood up to go back inside. A shower was in order before work and you would need time to dry your hair.

By the time 5:30 rolled around, you were were on the bus and headed to the movie theater in which you worked. 

• • •

Earth was a funny place.

At least that’s what Chan thought.

Chan was a demon, spending his days roaming around Earth because the whole ‘murdering humans for fun’ stereotype wasn't really his thing.

He was actually quite relaxed for a demon. Really only interacting with humans if he had to. He lived in an abandoned building just outside of Seoul, because generally, he wanted to stay away from humans.

Now from the outside, his place looked uninhabited and uninviting. Which was entirely his intention. But on the inside, he prided himself on making his place look like the inside of an Elle Decor magazine. It was quite modern but also had a retro flair to it. And despite him never having any guests, Chan still wanted his place to be impressive, even if it was just for him.

Chan’s desire to be isolated from humans but still near the closest big city was a bit contradictory, even to him. But the only reason he liked being so close to Seoul was his fascination for the city aesthetic.

He loved the city for its buildings, for its lights, for its bustling nature. He loved watching humans roam around the busy streets from the tops of buildings, wondering how one individual could live their life so entirely different from the next.

It puzzled him, how the strings of human lives could be so intertwined but still harbor the possibility of two never meeting. 

The sound of thunder booming in the distance brought Chan out of his deep contemplation. 

His gaze shifted upwards, holding his hand out to feel the oncoming rain drops. He pushed himself onto his feet, ready to make his escape from the down pour he could feel coming. 

Not that he minded the rain, thunder storms were probably his favorite thing in the world, being as he could create and manipulate lighting. He was quite fond of the bright flashes that came like a rip in the inky night sky, as if behind the dark canvas was a brilliant light just waiting to flood through any crack no matter how small.

He found cover from the rain under the umbrella of a nearby table, right outside one of his favorite restaurants. He sat down in one of the chairs, content washing over him as he listened to the sound of the rain and thunder crackling above him.

He peeked his head out from underneath the umbrella from time to time, tensing his body and watching the lightning stay in the sky just a little longer than normal. He then let the energy from the storm fuel him, cupping his hands in front of him and watching little sparks form between them. A content sigh left his lips.

It was probably time to head home.

• • •

By the time your shift ended, you were exhausted. Completely wiped and ready to collapse onto your bed.

You checked the time on your phone as you waited quietly for the bus to arrive at the bus stop. It was twenty after midnight, and completely down pouring. You felt a chill flow through your body at the lowering temperature along with the creepy vibe of the city at night.

You watched as the bus pulled up, making a run for it as you did not have an umbrella with you.

No one else got on with you, probably due to the time of night, and there was just one other person already on the bus. So you sat right up front, knowing the drive to your apartment wouldn't be too long.

You quietly hummed to yourself as you watched the lights of signs and people walking the sidewalk pass by at an accelerated pace. Before you could even finish the song you were humming, which albeit was probably prolonged due to lack of concentration, you were getting off the bus at the bus stop closest to your house.

You thanked the bus driver as you stepped onto the sidewalk, making sure to wave at him before he drove off. You would consider yourself to be more polite than most but that’s simply because you believe that you should make up in areas others lacked.

You had no other choice but the let the rain drench you, only adding to the chill you already felt flowing through you.

The only thing on your mind on your walk to your apartment was your terrace. Thankfully you had an awning over yours, so you could be free to sit out there whether it be rain or shine. The thought of listening to the rain with a book and a mug of hot tea in hand, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, the city lights in full view, hearing the thunder boom and watching the lighting flash across the night sky, was all you could think of. A calmness washed over you at the thought. Keeping you collected even while walking past the creepy dark alleyways you had to pass on your way home.

Despite the peaceful feeling, you noticed yourself letting out a breath of relief when you enter your apartment and lock the door behind you.

“Finally, some me time.” You sighed out loud, putting your bag on the ground next to the couch and walking into your kitchen. Immediately, you filled the kettle and put it on the stove to boil. You opened your cabinet of many teas and decided on chamomile, feeling like getting a good nights sleep tonight. 

While waiting for the kettle to boil, you took a quick shower and changed into something more comfy and, quite frankly, less popcorn smelling. 

You settled on a pair of leggings, a sweatshirt, and some thick fuzzy socks before you heard the kettle make its incessant whistling. 

After turning the stove off, pouring the now boiling water in a mug and placing the tea bag in, you walked over to the sliding glass doors that stood between you and your terrace tea time.

Quickly grabbing a blanket from the couch, you slid open the door and stepped outside. The cool air immediately engulfed you, but you found the chill quite refreshing. 

You didn't have any furniture out here yet, but you were planning on getting a loveseat or some recliners or something. For now though, you were content with simply sitting on the concrete with a blanket wrapped around you.

You took several sips of your tea, overlooking the city. Silently wondering if anyone else was up this late as well.

• • •

Chan watched his feet scuffle along the sidewalk, the rain completely soaking him from head to toe. But he intentionally did this, enjoying the feeling of walking home, despite him not having to.

A quiet bark caught Chan’s attention. Turning his head to the right, he noticed a small dog wagging its tail playfully at him. There was no one around with the little pup, he deduced. Maybe it’s a stray.

“Hey little guy, where’s your owner?” He smiles softly at the cute little dog, bending down to pet him. Without any fear, the very wet dog ran up to Chan, licking the hand he tried to pet him with. Chan laughed, noticing the dog had a collar.

“So you do have an owner?” Chan says while reading the address on the dog’s collar tag. “We better get you home then, huh?”

Chan was familiar with that street name, at least he was pretty sure it was the next street over. So he bent down to pick up the dog in his arms, holding him close to his chest.

“Alright bud, hold on tight.” Chan smirked before teleporting to where he thought he remembered seeing that street’s sign.

To his delight, he was correct. And the dog didn't seem too freaked out either, which was a plus. A lot of times with teleportation, it can feel odd if you’re not used to it. And especially with animals it’s tough, but this little guy seemed to be perfectly fine with it.

With his attention back on the world, he noticed a young man yelling out for his dog. Catching on rather quickly, Chan put the dog on the ground and watched as its ears perked up and it ran toward its owner. A smile etched its way onto his face as he watched the two reunite in the rain. 

Chan turned to walk back to where he came from but stopped when he heard a soft, pretty voice humming from above him. 

He shifted his gaze further up the apartment building, shielding his eyes from the rain with his hand, to see a girl. A blanket delicately hanging from her shoulders, a mug in hand, and her eyes glued to the city lights. 

But specifically, he watched how her cute little legs were slid through the horizontal beams of the terrace she sat on, swinging softly.

It was long past midnight, and not at all warm outside. He wondered what exactly she was doing out in the rain this late at night. 

She was pretty high up, and for whatever reason, Chan found himself teleporting to the terrace above hers to try and get a better look at the girl he suddenly became so fascinated with.

• • •

You were humming absentmindedly, kicking your feet and feeling the cold air surround them. The beautiful city lights had captured your attention the moment you sat down.

But soon enough your attention was drawn to the barking of a dog below you.

You looked down to see a guy around your age with shaggy blonde hair place a small dog on the ground, watching as it ran towards its owner whom you recognized, he lived a couple floors below you. 

Your lips formed into a smile as the dog licked his owners already wet face, happy to be home. But then you looked at the guy who seemed to be responsible for reuniting the two. He was looking fondly at the two reuniting as well, just standing underneath the raindrops, a soft smile on his lips. You wondered why he didn't take credit for bringing the little guy back home, instead keeping his distance and turning to leave.

You then wondered what time it was, pulling your phone out of your sweatshirt pocket and checking the time. 

1:14 AM

“Wow, I’ve been out here for quite a while now.” You then chuckled, “Guess I’m not the only one up so late.” Your gaze drifted back down to where the shaggy blonde stood, only to find him gone. 

You looked around to find him maybe heading off in another direction. You only looked at your phone for all of 3 seconds, he couldn’t have gotten that far. 

But no luck. He just... vanished.

An exaggerated sigh left your lips, irritated by the guy you suddenly found interesting and his sudden disappearance. 

But nevertheless, you focused your gaze once more on the city lights. Smiling at the serenity you felt flow through you at just the sight of them.

“Absolutely breathtaking.” You sighed, completely content. 

• • •

“Absolutely breathtaking.” Chan heard you sigh, feeling like you took the words right out of his mouth. However, you were referring to the city lights and well... he was referring to you.

The way the moon lit up your beautiful profile, your hair softly blowing in the stormy breeze. The way your soft voice would hum from time to time. The way your legs swung back and forth absentmindedly. You were mesmerizing.

Something emanated from you. A certain vibe, a certain aura. 

It was calming, it was peaceful. And Chan felt like he just wanted to be closer to it, closer to you.

This was odd for Chan, seeing as he usually stayed away from humans. Not only that, but he felt that this sudden attraction towards you developed rather fast. 

So he thought he should keep his distance from you, try to figure out if this was maybe just him feeling lonely and wanting some human interaction for whatever reason.

Infatuation doesn’t usually last very long, anyways.

• • •

“Sure, I can pick up Johnny’s shift tomorrow too.”

You said the words with a smile but felt agitation bubble inside you as you heard yourself say them. 

“You are a Saint! I have to get going, you don’t mind closing up for me do you?” Your manager said as she picked up her coat and bag, clearly that was a rhetorical question. 

You just smiled and nodded, “Of course not.”

You watched as she left, leaving you in the movie theater by yourself. You looked at the clock hanging on the wall beside you, sighing loudly at the fact that it was nearly midnight. These night shifts were doing a number on your sleep schedule. 

You finished cleaning up the counter before grabbing your jacket and slinging it onto your arms, along with your bag.

After locking up, you began your trek to the bus stop. Only to decide halfway there that it was a nice night and you actually wanted to walk home. The air was a comfortable temperature tonight, not warm but not too cold.

It wouldn't take you that long to walk all the way home, no longer than thirty minutes.

You liked that the city lights didn't pass by you in a blur when you decided to walk home, instead giving you time to admire them more. You chuckled at all the open signs that were turned off, reminding you how late it was. 

Though your chuckled died off as you noticed a familiar figure sitting on a bench not too far away from where you were walking. The same person that rescued your neighbor’s dog that one stormy night not too long ago. Since then you’ve seen him all around the city, more frequently on your walks home from work, only catching fleeting glimpses of him because he’d somehow be gone in the blink of an eye. 

And this time was no different.

The first few times you saw him, you thought he might be stalking you. Which horrified your because even though you saw him briefly, you could tell he was attractive and you didn't want that whole Stockholm syndrome thing to happen if he by chance kidnapped you. I mean, you literally give an obnoxious tip if the pizza delivery guy is cute. 

But as time went on, you noticed that he would never approach you. You would just see him standing off nearby, or sitting at an outside table or bench. He didn't stare at you or anything, didn't make you uncomfortable in any way, you just felt like it couldn't be a coincidence that you were seeing him everywhere. 

You got to a point where you began thinking that maybe, just maybe, this was all in your head. That your imagination had conjured him up and he wasn't actually real. Because how could a human being consistently disappear from sight in a matter of seconds? It was virtually impossible. So you reckoned that, for reasons you’re not quite sure of, your brain made him up.

You thought about this as you walked past him, waiting all of five seconds before turning around and only finding an empty bench. 

“Dammit.” You muttered under your breath, wanting this weird mystery to end. You just wanted to know if he was real or not. Which, albeit, is an odd thing to just casually want to know. But you were an odd person and it wouldn't surprise you if your mind had made up an attractive guy around your age who appeared on your walks alone from work. Considering his presence began to comfort you, the times you didn't see him made you feel more exposed and vulnerable to the nightly possibilities.

Sometimes you imagined him being a guardian angel that was sent to look over you. If only you could see the irony in that thought.

• • •

Chan knew he was being a bit of a creep. He knew that following you home after work, despite the reason being to make sure you get home safely, was pretty much stalking. But he couldn't help it. 

He also knew that letting you see him briefly before teleporting out of your line of sight was probably messing with your head a little. But he didn't want you to have the chance to approach him, because that would only end with you accusing him of being a stalker. But again, he couldn't help it.

Ever since that night he saw you on your terrace, he couldn't get you out of his head. He came to the conclusion that it wasn't just infatuation, he genuinely cared for you and your well being. But, he knew that you couldn't feel the same because you literally hadn't even met him. And sure, he hadn't formally met you either, but he knew you.

He watched you at work, on your walks around the city. He knew your voice from your conversations with other people. He knew you liked reading and tea and thunderstorms, just like him. He knew you constantly took nightshifts at the theater because your colleagues would always call out last minute. He knew you were free to do whatever you wanted on Tuesdays, not even picking up your supervisor’s calls on those days. But most importantly, he knew how much you loved your terrace. And he’s watched it develop now over time, it accumulating a little couch, some bean bag chairs, even fairy lights now lined the awning.

And yes, he was aware that all of this was super weird and if you ever actually formally met him, you would probably scream and call the cops. But, that didn't stop Chan from falling completely head over heels with you.

Even though he knew you would never love him.

• • •

Second to sitting on your terrace, you’d have to say you loved your days off. Which usually consisted of sitting on your terrace but still, you considered them separate entities.

Specifically, Tuesdays were your favorite because your manager was aware you would not be receiving any calls from her to come fill in. Tuesdays were your day to recuperate from Mondays and help you get through the rest of the week.

Today was your beloved Tuesday and you went on a bit of a shopping spree. After working consecutive double shifts the last two weeks, you had some extra money after paying bills and buying your necessities. So naturally, you decided to treat yourself. 

You didn't go crazy, only getting a few things. Some cute new outfits and a nice dinner to bring home because you were a bit of a lone wolf and definitely wasn't going to sit at a restaurant by yourself like a loser.

With your bags in hand, you opted for the bus since you didn't want to have to lug everything all the way home on foot.

“Huh, someones treating herself today.” The bus driver chuckled as you got on, noticing all your bags. You’ve come to know your usual bus driver quite well, as he’s come to know you.

“All those late night double shifts gotta count for something right?” You chuckled along with him, sitting down in the front seat to continue light conversation with him. 

The drive ended quickly and soon enough you were saying goodbye and getting of the bus, beginning your trek to your apartment building.

It was nearing dusk already, and you didn't want your food getting cold so you walked faster than usual.

But just as your apartment building came into view, a large hand grabbed your wrist and pulled you into one of the dark alleyways you passed everyday without a second thought.

You dropped your bags and were thrown against the alley’s exterior wall. A sound of surprise and fear leaving the back of your throat upon impact.

“Now that’s a lot of bags you got there, huh sweetheart?” The older man chuckled darkly. You felt tears beginning to spill out of your eyes and stream down your cheeks. Everything happening so fast. You were panicking. Your brain told you to offer your bags and beg the man to let you go, but you couldn't formulate any words. 

You could only cry out pathetic whimpers in complete desperation.

But just as the man reached into his pocket and pulled out a switchblade, his body began to convulse and he fell to the ground with a thump, completely unconscious. It was almost like he had been tased. 

Your mind was racing, your heart was racing, your eyes were shut tightly out of fear and your sleeve clad hands covered them. But you knew you had just been saved, right? Or was this possibly another man with ulterior motives? 

Your heart rate accelerated again.

Your vision was blurry due to the tears still apparent in your eyes, but you quickly wiped them with your sleeves and looked up to see your savior standing in front of you. And nothing in this world could have prepared you for who you saw. 

It was him.

“Please tell me you’re okay-”

• • •

Chan’s chest was heaving. The moment he saw that man tug you harshly into that alleyway, he just snapped. He ran in after you, drawing energy from around him as he placed both of his hands flat on the man’s back, sending all of the electricity he could muster through himself and into the man’s body.

He didn't even care if the man was dead or not as he watched his limp form slump onto the ground. All he cared about was you and your safety.

You were his priority.

“Please tell me you’re okay-” He rushed out as he was about to pull you out of the alleyway but you cut him off by immediately collapsing into his chest.

You couldn't handle everything that was happening, couldn’t comprehend it. Your brain was overwhelmed and it just kinda gave out, causing you to pass out. Luckily Chan was there to catch you.

He held you close to him, semi-reeling in the feeling of you in his arms. But he was mostly focused on getting you home. So he picked you up like a princess, held you tighter, and teleported you both to the terrace of your apartment, leaving the body of the man behind in the alleyway.

Upon arriving to your terrace, he opened the sliding glass door, figuring it was unlocked since who locks their terrace doors?

Chan took careful steps, walking you inside and into your living room. He laid you down on your couch, making sure you were flat on your back. He then grabbed a pillow from your bedroom and propped your feet up so they were above your heart level. He didn’t know how long you would be unconscious for so he wanted to be sure your blood would continue circulating properly.

After assessing that you were good for now, Chan took a seat on the chair across from where you now lay on your couch, waiting patiently for you to regain consciousness. 

It didn't take that long for you to finally come to, maybe ten minutes or so. But boy, when you woke up you were already in a panic. And despite Chan wanting to run over and comfort you, he knew that would only stress you out more and he definitely didn't want you to faint again.

You sat up abruptly, a headache immediately washing over you. Your left hand flew to your forehead, a pained groan leaving your lips.

“How are you feeling?” A concerned voice spoke from beside you.

Your head snapped to the right, all the memories of the dark alleyway flooded your head all at once. He was real. That’s all you could manage to think. You thought you would be afraid. Yet here you were... Just staring at the allusive boy you thought you had imagined all this time.

“You’re... you’re real?” You asked out loud, wondering if maybe you hit your head when you passed out and this is another figment of your imagination. Albeit, a very realistic figment of your imagination.

“Well that’s not the reaction I was expecting.” He chuckled, looking slightly confused himself. How was this even possible?

“You- I thought... how-?” You were struggling to find the right words, and Chan could tell you were becoming panicked again.

“I know you probably think I’m a stalker, but it’s not like that I swear.” He rushed out before you could freak out, holding his hands in front of him in defense.

He was right, you did think he was a stalker. But for whatever reason, you didn’t think he would harm you. If fact, you would go as far as saying you knew he wouldn't harm you. 

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, attempting you calm yourself. In order to figure what exactly was going on here, you need to ask the right questions.

When you opened your eyes finally, he still seemed genuinely concerned, which threw you. Your stare lingered on him for a couple more moments while you actually took in his appearance. 

He was quite handsome. He had on black from head to toe, and he pulled it off well. His jawline was like... chiseled by the Gods. And you found yourself staring at the way it tensed in concern. Which brought you back to your thoughts.

“I thought I made you up.” You finally admitted calmly.

This surprised Chan. He was almost certain you were going to accuse him of being a stalker. But you just sat there, completely unafraid of him. You didn’t even think he was real? Had he really disappeared in front of you so many times that you began to think you imagined him?

“Um... No... No I’m real.” Chan corrected, feeling a bit awkward now. This was not what he had prepped himself for when you woke up. He was planning on dealing with you calling the cops and chasing him out of your house. Not for you to calmly sit in front of him and tell him that all this time you thought he was a figment of your imagination.

“So like... what are you then? Cuz I’m pretty sure you’re not human. No human can just disappear in like five seconds.” You ask, wondering if maybe he was a vampire or something.

Chan had never been more confused in his life. How were you being so calm about this? How could you just calmly ask him what kind of supernatural being he was like that wasn't supposed to be a terrifying thing to be in the presence of? Should he just outright tell you? Would you take it as well as you are right now?

“You are so much more perceptive than I thought you’d be.” Chan sighed, out loud. Your calmness bringing out his clarity, despite how unexpected it was.

“So I’m right? You’re a vampire?” You say, and the slight excitement behind your eyes makes Chan laugh.

“No, definitely not a vampire. But good guess.” He wiped the tear from his left eye, his laughter dying down.

“Well then what are you?” You ask with a slight pout, disappointed you were wrong.

Something about your response gave Chan confidence. Confidence that you weren't going to be deterred so easily. And it’s that confidence that led him to voice his next words.

“I’m a demon.” He said seriously, his eyes running over every one of your facial features to gauge your reaction.

You didn't respond immediately, instead taking time to reflect on what he had just said.

The boy sitting in front of you right now was... a demon? But weren't demons supposed to be inherently evil? Why would he save you from that guy back in the alley then? He couldn’t be evil. He carried you back your place. He propped your feet up with a pillow so your blood would circulated properly while you remained unconscious. He was not evil.

“So you're like... a nice demon?” You asked hesitantly, not wanting to sound stupid but this wasn't exactly your area of expertise.

Chan smiled at your words. He has never really put it into words like that but, he supposed you were right. He was a nice demon.

“I mean, I try to be.” He watches you chuckle and his smile widens, the earlier confusion and concern being replaced with the feeling of calm and serenity that normally emanated from you. He suddenly realizes that this is the first conversation he’s ever had with you, the cute little human he fell in love with. And he’s glad he can finally hear your voice speak directly to him, not just hear you talk to other people.

In that moment he’s come over with the sudden need to hear you say his name.

“I’m Chan.” He says softly.

Chan. To be honest you were expecting like ‘Gorgon The Terrible’ but Chan had a nice sound to it. It fit him well, you thought.

“Chan.” You smiled, holding out your hand. “I’m y/n.”

Chan nearly collapses at the sound of his name leaving your lips, your smile evident in your voice. He takes your tiny outstretched hand into his large one and shakes it softly, nearly saying ‘I know’ before deciding that would be super creepy.

From there, he goes into explaining why you see him around everywhere and how he could disappear as quick as he does. You learn that he has the ability to teleport and the ability to manipulate lightning. And you’re honestly flattered when he tells you that he simply found you more fascinating that any other human and that he wanted to make sure you got home safe every night. He even let it slip that he thought you were pretty that first night he saw you, both of you blushing in that moment.

• • •

You find yourself being totally cool with Chan being a demon.

In fact, you two became really close.

You discovered that you had so many things in common. From your love of the city aesthetic and stormy nights to your hatred for crowded places and loud people.

You got along so well, and you enjoyed being around him.

When he finally took you to his place you were stunned. He laughed at how you thought he would have lived in a dark cave or an eerie castle. There were so many misconceptions in your head about demons apparently. 

Eventually, you found yourself more than liking Chan. You had never dated anybody before, never really even felt feelings like this toward someone before. But your stomach did little flips every time he’d smile down at you with that look of complete adoration in his eyes. Every time he would smirk at you from across the table on the days you’d get lunch. They way he’d be leaning against his car when he came to pick you up from work.

You don’t know how he managed to look good literally always. Even in the morning when he’d pick you up to go get breakfast, he would somehow look completely put together in just sweatpants and a t-shirt.

And he was just so affectionate. You loved how he’d gently place his hand on the small of your back as you walked up the stairs of your apartment building. You loved how he would play with your hair and gently sing you to sleep when you were feeling restless, telling you that anytime you couldn't sleep, all you had to do was text him and he would immediately teleport to your side. You loved that made you feel safe.

Fuck... you loved him.

• • •

Chan knew you had started feeling more than friendship for him. He may not be telepathic, but he could sense the shift in your demeanor towards him.

Now, he didn't know exactly how strong the feelings were, but he definitely knew they were there. And he’d be lying if he said he didn't want to explore them.

Currently, you sat on his couch watching anime, the plushie he bought for you cradled loosely in your arms. It was a Tuesday, a day that you used to say was your favorite because you had it to yourself. Now, you said it was your favorite because you got to spend the day with him.

You were wearing one of his sweatshirts, his blue one. Probably his only colored one, but he absolutely adored how you looked in it. It was basically a dress on you, but he liked it that way.

He was silently admiring you from where he stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. Your shorts were hiding under the length of his sweatshirt, leaving your legs exposed. You had these little fuzzy socks on, the same ones you were wearing the night he first saw you, and your day old curls fell loosely just above your shoulders.

You were a little bundle of cuteness to Chan. His little bundle of cuteness.

And there was something in that moment that filled him with a sudden confidence.

He pushed himself off of the door frame and took swift long strides to your position on his couch. You looked away from the tv when you saw him come in, not expecting him to rest both his hands on the back of the couch on either side of your head, leaning down so his face was mere inches from yours. 

You leaned back further, but Chan followed your movements. Your cheeks were heating up the longer he stared at you. You knew he could see your cheeks getting pinker. Hell, from this close, he could probably feel the heat radiating off your face. 

“W-what are you doing?” You silently chided yourself for stuttering, not wanting to make it obvious how nervous he made you.

“You know you’re mine, right?” He suddenly said, a smirk coming to grace his lips. You made the mistake of glancing down at the way the one side tugged upwards, before bringing your gaze back up to his. His smirk deepened, his own eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. 

You watched him start leaning in, ever so slowly. Your breath hitched in your throat as he got closer and closer. Your eyes followed his movements until his lips were almost touching yours, then they fell shut in anticipation. 

But his lips didn't meet yours. Instead, they met your ear.

“You didn’t answer me, babygirl.”

You let out a shaky breath, trying to control how fast your heart was beating right now.

“W-what?” You asked quietly, not remembering what question he asked.

“I said you know you’re mine, right?” Chan pulled back slightly to catch your gaze, noticing the blush forming on your cheeks. He licked his lips, wanting nothing more than to devour you right then and there. 

But he needed to hear you say it first.

“You’re mine, y/n. No one else’s.” He continued, his voice becoming more serious now. “You know that, right?”

You couldn't help but nod, you knew he was right. You were his. You were absolutely his and his only. You wouldn't give yourself to anyone else, wouldn't love anyone the way you loved him. There was only him for you, only Chan.

“I need to hear you say it, babygirl.” Chan closed his eyes and he let out a sigh, holding himself back until the words he was looking for left those pretty lips of yours.

Everything about him was tempting, and you really wanted this go were it was heading despite your nerves. Because... You really did love this demon. 

“I’m yours, Chan.”

Immediately his lips were on yours.

Your lips moved hesitantly but in sync with his, your nerves being apparent. But you couldn't possibly want this anymore than you already did.

Chan could sense your nerves, knowing fully well that this was going to be your first time with someone. But he was going to make you feel the best you've ever felt.

Chan gently pushed you down on the couch, your back laying against the soft cushions while he hovered over you. One of his hands found purchase at your waist while the other softly cradled your face, his lips moving at a slow but sensual pace. Your heart swelled in your chest at how gentle and loving he was being with you, as you slid your arms around his neck.

His tongue carefully slipped past your lips, a quiet gasp escaping them. Chan smirked into to the kiss, his tongue caressing yours.

He moved in between your legs, his hands slowly sliding down your body and finding the backs of your knees. He guided your legs to wrap around his waist, loving the way you obeyed and locked your ankles around him.

His hands then move to your hips as he slowly grinds his against yours. His firm grip prevents you from being able to move yours with his. You get the idea, realizing that he doesn't want you doing any work tonight. He wants to be in complete control.

His lips part from yours, your chest heaving. He doesn't stop though, he continues dragging his soft lips gently across your jawline, down the expanse of your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses on the skin there. Chan pulled the collar of his sweatshirt on you down so he could drag his teeth across your collar bone biting down slightly, eliciting a soft whimper from you.

“That was beautiful, love. Do it again.” Chan bit down again, another whimper leaving your lips. He continued this, being fueled by the sounds that spilled out of your mouth, until your neck was littered in hickeys. Chan ran his tongue along the marks he made, pulling back to admire them.

“All mine.” You heard him say under his breath, his hands coming to grip the bottom of your sweatshirt. His eyes found yours, looking for any sort of opposition in them. After finding none, he pulled the material up and over your head, revealing the white lace bra you wore underneath. He dropped down to continue leaving kisses all over your chest, his hips still maintaining their slow grinding motion against your core.

You could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want Chan to just take you to his bedroom already. You needed him, more than you’ve ever needed him before.

“Chan~” You begged, your voice sounding foreign to you. You’ve never sounded this needy before.

Chan thrived on how needy you sounded. His name leaving your lips like that is all he wanted to hear tonight.

“Are you sure, babygirl?” He asked for confirmation, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your lips. You nodded, but Chan gave you a look, prompting you to voice your answer with a soft “please.”

That’s all he needed to hear. Without another word, Chan picked you up from the couch. He carried you to his bedroom, his eyes never breaking contact with yours as he laid you down on his bed.

He lifted his shift up and over his head, tossing it somewhere on the floor before climbing onto the bed on top of you.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” He admitted in a breath, watching as your hands came up to touch his chest but stopped just before you could make contact.

“Can I touch you?” You asked him, his heart melting at how little you looked sprawled out underneath him like this. So small, so innocent.

“Of course you can, babygirl.” Chan smiled, loving the sound of your voice. Loving even more the feeling of your hands when they finally met his skin, running down his chest and incredibly toned torso. 

Chan’s eyes closed and his head hung down slightly. He just wanted to rip your shorts off and fuck you into the mattress but he couldn't, he needed to take things slow, guide his babygirl through her first time.

Chan’s eyes opened and he let out a breath, sliding his hands underneath you to unclip your bra. He threw it to the side, leaning down to press a kiss to each of your breasts before continuing on down your stomach. 

His lips stopped at the waistband of your shorts, pausing to pull them down your legs, dropping them onto the pile of clothes forming on the floor. He smiles at your white lace panties, the little bow on them causing a deep chuckle to leave his chest.

“What?” You asked, confused as to why he’s laughing.

“Nothing, you’re just cute.” Chan runs his hands up your thighs, taking your panties with his index finger and pulling them down and off of you, leaving you completely bare to him.

Before you have a chance to feel any feelings of self consciousness, Chan slips a finger into your already dripping core.

“Look at you, babygirl. We’ve barely even started and you’re already so wet for me.” Your head falls back, a loud moan escaping your lips. Immediately you bit down on your bottom lip in attempt to muffle your sounds.

“Ah ah, love. None of that.” Chan chided with a smirk, his finger now moving at a steady pace inside you. He wanted to hear every sound you could possibly make tonight. You let go of your lip, moaning out loud again. 

“Thatta girl.” He cooed, adding another finger, stretching your walls out for him. He kept it rather slow but steady, scissoring his fingers at times. He wanted you fully prepped, not wanting it to be too painful. Even though he knew that was going to be inevitable.

There was a coil in your stomach and you could feel it tightening the faster his fingers moved. You had only ever touched yourself before but it felt nothing like this. But before the coil could tighten any further, Chan pulled his fingers out of you.

The prettiest whine left your mouth at the loss of contact, Chan’s dick was impossibly hard at the sight of you already so fucked out and needy because of him.

“Are you ready, love?” Chan was beyond ready, but he was giving you a chance to back out now.

“Yes, Chan please~”

In a second, Chan’s sweatpants and boxers were off. 

He hovered over you, his hard on in one hand and his other resting by your head, positioning himself at your entrance. After one last look to make sure you were 100% okay, he pushed himself inside you, going slow to let you adjust. He groans and you moan, your eyes closed and your head falling backwards. The pain was definitely there, but for some reason it only added to the pleasure. The feeling was overwhelming and you couldn't stop the few tears the fell from your closed eyes.

Chan leaned down and kissed away the few tears that fell, whispering words of comfort and praise into your skin.

After you finally adjusted, you asked him to move. Quickly, he obliged, pulling out of you and pushing back in just as slow. This time it felt different, the pain subsided, the pleasure outshining the pain. He continued this, pulling out and pushing back into your sopping wet heat. 

The feeling of you around him was something Chan couldn't compare to anything else. Everything about you engulfed him, everything about you was perfect. And now you were his. Finally, officially his.

“Oh my god, Chan.” You moaned out breathily. His cock inside you hitting a spot you didn't know existed. Your head fell to the side, your mind going fuzzy. You’ve never felt this much pleasure before. And although it was overwhelming, it also felt really fucking good.

Chan’s pace picked up, knowing that the painful part was over. Now was his time to make you feel the greatest you've ever felt. One hand gripped your hip while the other rested on his elbow next to your head.

His groans were like music to your ears, pushing you further towards the edge. The sounds that came from where you were connected were lewd enough to bring a blush to your face, catching Chan’s attention.

“Is my babygirl blushing?” Chan’s wide smile contrasted with his lewd actions below.

“Shut up~” You whined, but it quickly turned into a moan as Chan hit that spot again. Hitting it consistently now, your hands grabbed his shoulders, needing something to keep you grounded, keep you sane.

Chan buried his face into your neck, muffling his own sounds as he pounded into you. You were on the brink of climax, you could feel it. And it was an incredible feeling.

Your whole body became hyperaware, aware of his death grip on your hip, aware of his breathing on your neck, aware of his cock bottoming out inside you with every thrust. 

Suddenly you felt Chan’s grip on your hip lift and instead his hand slid down to your clit, rubbing fast circles into the sensitive bud.

Your body began shaking and you had to warn him, but the words were caught amidst the pleasure.

“Chan I-I” “I know, babygirl. Cum for me.”

Immediately you came, your orgasm washing over you like a tsunami. You cried out Chan’s name in a repeated mantra like you were praying to him. It was easily the greatest feeling you have ever felt ever. Chan followed after you, releasing his load inside you with a groan of your name.

Chan rode out both of your highs, pressing his thumb down onto your clit to prolong yours a little more. 

Chan watched you come undone underneath him, in complete awe. Never in his life had he seen a sight as beautiful as you, so fucked out, so spent. Your hair lay messily against his mattress, some strands sticking to your forehead. Your neck and chest were littered in his pink and purple marks, your bottom lip swollen from biting it so much.

You were a masterpiece.

Chan collapsed beside you, his chest heaving. You curled up into his side, Chan pulling you even closer, kissing your forehead.

“I love you, Chan.” You sighed, feeling complete next to him.

“I love you more, babygirl.” He smiled to himself. Everything Chan’s ever wanted was curled up in his arms right now.

“We should get you cleaned up, love.” He pointed out, moving to stand. But you pulled him back down, resting your head on his chest.

“After a nap?” You nuzzled your head further into Chan, wanting to be as close to him as possible.

“Alright, after a nap.” Chan chuckled, running his fingers through your hair and humming softly.

And with that, you fell asleep to the sound of his voice.

• • •

A/N: OH LOOK IT’S HERE PLZ ENJOY LMAO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG.

[terminally-karkalicious]

allow me to rant about the only thing that has been in my brain for the past two months and that is doll customizing babeyyyyy

i know there’s a 90% chance that you wont give a Shit about any of this but here we go anyways

SO first you gotta choose a doll. preferably one with a high range of motion to avoid creating new joints or having annoying limitations like not having elbow joints for some fucking reason. what the fuck mattel. give monster high dolls back their ball jointed shoulders and elbow joints. smh

the most common dolls ive seen used as bases are monster high and ever after high. most customs ive seen are highly stylized so the stylized face molds work well for those types of dolls but dolls like barbies are good for when you want a more realistic face-ups.

once you’ve got your base picked out you gotta wipe that bitch’s face off with like. acetone or nail polish remover or something strong like that. you can also use acetone to shrink doll heads which is cool as hell imo. n e way once the face is wiped you gotta chop off the hair and remove the hair plugs from the inside. ive seen this done several ways but the easiest and most common way ive seen is to dunk the head into boiling water for ~30 seconds until it gets squishy and malleable. once you’ve got the head back, you can use pliers (i think tweezers would work in a pinch) to pull out the hair plugs which are kinda icky because theyre covered in glue and other gross shit. ew

now you must decapitate the doll. dunk em back in the boiling water to soften them back up then just tug the head off. the neck pegs look funky and are usually a different color than the body so thats cool ig

once the head’s off, you can start the face-up which is basically just giving the doll a new face using stuff like watercolor pencils, acrylic paint, gouache, and a whole lot of other stuff. hell ive seen people use person makeup on these dolls.

next,,,,, hair. there’s about twenty million ways to do hair from gluing yarn wefts to sewing to rerooting with purchased nylon doll hair or yarn wefts but i’m gonna talk about the most common one ive seen which is rerooting and gluing.

before you can reroot, you need doll hair. which, as i mentioned, can be bought at stores like the doll planet or made at home with yarn in literally any color. have fun with it! make rainbow hair or something idk

to make homemade wefts, you take some acrylic yarn, cut it twice as long as you want the hair to be (keep in mind you can cut and style the hair once it’s been rerooted), fold them in half, and tie it to something sturdy like a wire coat hanger for the next step.

once you’ve got your yarn tied to your hanger, use a pet brush and brush the yarn until it’s wispy and looks like hair. then take a straightening iron and iron the weft flat. then remove from the hanger and boom. hair wefts. ta-da

to reroot the wefts onto the head, use a rerooting tool (which can be as simple as a needle with the eye cut at angle) (just google it please i’m shit at descriptions)) to poke small sections of the hair into the head. you can use the pre-existing rooting holes for your own reroot as they’re usually pretty reliable. to reroot, take a small length of you doll hair (about 10-15 strands), loop it in half, and put the middle of the loop into the reroot tool. poke the end of the tool with the hair on it into the pre-existing hole and remove the tool. the hair *should* stay in and fill up that plug!! also remember to plug thickly at the hairline and part of the hair where it's most noticeable. it doesnt matter as much in the center of the head as that’s not usually visible on the doll. once you’ve rerooted, squeeze in strong glue through the neck hole and squish around the head to make sure it covers all the plugs and secures them in place. then pour hot water onto the head to make the hair lay flat for styling later.

also, you can reroot yarn directly into the head to make thicker, more textured hairstyles. and since the yarn is thicker, you dont need to glue the inside of the head for the hair to stay in place!!

if youre not doing body modifications (which are also cool as hell) then it’s time for clothes but clothes are boring and i like body mods more so i’m gonna rant about them instead

the material ive seen most doll artists use is apoxie sculpt, which is like play doh on steroids. it comes in two parts which you gotta mix together for some reason. why dont they sell it pre-mixed. what was the reason. also once it’s dry it’s super super strong and you can sand it, drill into it, paint it, and all kinds of stuff. very nice and i want some for myself.

you can use hand saws and drills and shit to whack off doll limbs to make stuff like digitigrade legs or new joints. also dont be afraid to use other mismatching doll parts when customizing like heads and bodies and forearms and hands and shit. it literally does not matter if youre gonna recolor the doll anyways so have fun with it. make frankenstein’s doll if youre feeling spicy

accessories my beloved. stuff like tiny beads and clay baubles and shit will literally transform the entire doll plus they’re adorable and multi-purpose

i suppose i must talk about clothes now. ah well. you can find great clothing patterns if youre new to customizing on other customizer’s etsy shops and probably google although those will probably be lower quality than paid pattern pieces. and keep in mind that if it exists as clothing irl, you can likely make it doll-sized. there are literally no limits to your clothing options as long as you can execute your idea.

the once all your components have been made, you can assemble the doll again!! and finally see what all the parts look like together!! very cool 10/10 stars.

ight that wraps up my doll rant. i could really go into more detail on certain parts but thats a whole other rant for a whole other day smh. sorry for fucking flooding your inbox ender ahaha……………. you asked for this

little did you know that dolls have been one of my favorite things since like ever. if i can read a 25 chapter long fanfic i can read this B)

mattel definitely fucked up by completely ruining MH doll designs and just stopping EAH, alot of their profits most likely came from people who collect and customize dolls and by changing MH doll designs/Stopping EAH dolls they 1. most likely lost a small (or big if we're not jus talking people who customize dolls) part of their profit and 2. made it harder for doll customizers to make dolls/get commissions out rather quickly because they probably have to waste more time making joints or learning how to make joints.

EAH/MH dolls (specifically MH dolls) had AMAZING MODELS because there was so much variety with height, face shapes, etc (my favorite molds had to be the short/tall dolls and the cat molds because of the tails) and doll customizers really went all out with enhancing a molds unique features. The only "downside" abt MH dolls is that they (or atleast most)(from what i remember)) had slimmer faces but wider eyes while EAH dolls have wider faces with slimmer smaller which left a canvas for the face and not the eyes (and vice versa for MH dolls)

I've never seen any videos where a barbie is customized (maybe because i absolutely despised barbies at the time) so I'll definitely have to check those out but they seem to be good for realistic makeovers. I've seen like like semi realistic makeovers for EAH/MH dolls that were pretty good too tho (pretty sure mostly EAH dolls since yk MH dolls were used for creature makeovers while most EAH dolls weren't)

yeah i was always amazed by the head shrinking with acetone. honestly i still am?? idunno i have no idea how that chemical bullshit works. Ive seen a few of uh makeovers that just pain over the face (in multiple layers ofcourse) but that's usually when they're painting the entire body a different colour (again usually when they're turning a doll into a funky little baby man). I've also seen a few that just chop the hair off and take out the hair plugs yk without uuh like softening the head or just go straight for the hair plugs after taking off the head (i used to do that it was funny to me??). i always really liked when they used watercolour pencils or just colour pencils in general to draw/sketch on the face cause like wow ur drawing on ur doll without ruining it?? kinda epic maybe even poggers and pogchamp?? oh god my brain is failing wjshsmsj.

Watching them putting the hair back on the doll was, other than the face stuff, was the BEST part for me. Favorite type of hair was iuuuuuh was either thick yarn or brushed out yarn. Literally worship the people that would reroot the hair, theyre the most patience people on this earth!! it's literally insane but i guess that's what happens when you've been doing that for years? you guess kinda get used to it. when they put glue into the head does it just become stiff?? like it's just a clump of dried glue or does it like..hollow out again??

dude you literally cannot convince me most of the supplies used for doll makeovers. APOXIE CLAY LOOKS SO FECKING GOOD. its edible and i will die on that hill. The body mods are literally so amazing!!!!! it's so impressive how theyre able to imagine certain features THEN LIKE ACTUALLY MAKE IT LOOK ACCURATE TO WHAT THEY WANTED TO LOOK LIKE AFTER LIKE ON TRY (or many yk trial and error is very necessary for..everything). Absolutely loved when doll customizers would saw off a dolls legs and use different ones or just completely get rid of the torso to use a different one. it's like uuh that one big guy that's mismatched and sewn together. very cool. The accessories are so fun!! just small little details you seen really need but can add because it's your feckin doll!! I used to be absolutely obsessed over the doll clothes i would find on etsy, so much so that i started sewing shitty shirts and dresses for my uh "customized" dolls (they were absolute HORRORS idk WHY my mom let me feck up my dolls like that).

Thank you for this!! i haven't been able to talk about any of my interests for a while and this just really made me happy!!

Question fer u my fellow MH/EAH enthusiast: what was your favorite MH/EAH movie/episode and doll series. Mine was The fusion dolls (MH obvi) and that MH movie "Haunted" cause we got to know more about Spectra :D

[bcdrawsandwrites]

Here’s a random, unpolished oneshot I wrote on a whim. Features the alebrije character Pizzicato, whom you’ll recognize if you’ve seen some of my other works.

In which Héctor winds up with an unfortunate nickname, and Gustavo learns why you don’t make comments about Héctor’s wife.

(Warning for some inappropriate comments from some of the characters.)

---~~~---

Héctor paused to lean his head against the cool metal handrail again, trying in vain to relieve the burning ache in his head. Shutting his eyes to block out the overcast sky ahead, he gripped the rail a moment longer, grateful they had actually bothered to install one on these stairs. (It was a rarity to have railings of any sort in the Land of the Dead, when one couldn't really die from a fall, but some buildings did have them, whether out of newly-dead contractors building them out of habit or from the insistence of people sticking to tradition.) After a minute, he heard a sleepy chirp from the tiny bat alebrije hanging off the back of his collar, and pulled himself away, forcing himself up a few more stairs.

He'd stop drinking one of these days, he promised himself. When he found a reason to quit, anyway.

Memories from the night before swam indistinctly in his mind as he continued to mount the stairs. He'd been working in the arts district, as usual, and had taken up some local musicians on an offer for drinking. While music was something he tried to avoid these days, the musicians had seemed friendly enough, and as much as he loved Pizzicato, talking with an alebrije tended to get a bit one-sided at times. Pizzicato hadn't exactly been thrilled with his joining them, he recalled, but the temptation of just... normal human interaction had been too strong to resist.

Might've been nice if the cerveza and tequila hadn't been too hard to resist, though.

Shaking his head (and then regretting it a second later when the world tipped), Héctor finally reached the top of the stairs, practically collapsing through the open window. Pizzicato gave a sleepy squeak in protest before snuggling back into his collar—he wasn't entirely sure why she was like that, other than that it probably had something to do with whatever happened the night prior. Leading him home while he was in a drunken daze, maybe.

"I was half-tempted to pull the stairs back up on you," Ceci muttered around the pins she held in her teeth. She didn't look up from her work, focused entirely on the dress hung on the mannequin before her. "What were you doing, sightseeing?"

"Buenas dias to you too," Héctor grumbled, pulling himself up to his feet and brushing off his hopelessly dirty jacket.

Ceci did give him a look, then, eying him over her shoulder. "Buenas tardes."

"Buenas tar... oh." He scratched the back of his head, blinking blearily. "Sorry. Lost track of time."

"Hopefully you didn't lose track of that delivery I sent you off with," she went on, resuming work on the dress.

"Oh, no no no, that's... that's all taken care of." Rubbing his hand over his eye sockets, he strained to remember yesterday. That memory was a bit clearer, at least—he definitely remembered the weird look the customer gave him when he handed him the package, and the lack of a tip. "I got it to them, no worries."

"Good."

He stood there awkwardly, hand on his wrist, as Ceci continued to work on the dress in relative silence (other than the record player running in the background—Héctor wasn't really paying attention to what it was playing, only grateful that it wasn't another de la Cruz album). Briefly he wondered if she'd forgotten he was there, and he pointed his finger to speak.

"If you're looking for another job," she began—Héctor flinched, the sudden volume sending a spike of pain through his head—"the dancers left a mess out in the gallery after their practice last night. The art crew won't clean it because they say it's not their mess, but they're still whining about the glitter getting into their paints." She paused. "And on the materials," she added, brushing something shimmering from the hem of the dress.

"Ah, g-gracias," Héctor stammered, passing through the designer's workshop and out into the main studio. At once he was greeted with the familiar sight of the hastily set-up barriers separating the work spaces of different artists. Many of them were lined with various paintings and sketches, but as Ceci had said, some of them were dusted in glitter. Frowning, he stepped up to one painting of a xolo dog, swiping his finger across the canvas to remove a few flecks of glitter... and yelped when some of the gray pigment came off with it, smearing on the painting. With a hasty glance aside, he wiped his hand off on the inside of his coat and speedily walked away, looking in the opposite direction of the painting.

"Okay, okay, glitter, glitter..." Head turned downward, he found scatterings of the stuff on the floor, and then looked up again. "Ah... I need a... uh... mop? No, no... broom? Dustpan?" He glanced over his shoulder, hoping Pizzicato might be of some use, but only heard a high-pitched snoring. Cute, but not helpful at the moment. Sighing, he looked to the walls of the studio, hoping one of the janitors may have left their equipment there, but no luck—only rows of outlandish costumes. Ugh... where was the janitor's closet, again?

Héctor poked his head into the entrance to one of the partitions, raising a finger and opening his mouth to ask, only to find several very, very tired artists and a skeleton posing nude for them. Clapping his hand over his eye sockets, he stumbled away. "Okay, okay, bad idea, do not ask the artists," he muttered, uncovering his face just in time to dodge another artist hurrying by with a large canvas. Looking around to make sure he wasn't about to collide with anyone else, he continued his aimless journey through the cluttered gallery. "Ask the... uh..."

The sound of laughter caught his metaphorical ears, and Héctor looked toward the far end of the studio, by the glass windows. They were still out of sight, but he was pretty sure he knew who was hanging out there.

His suspicions were confirmed by the sound of a trombone making a long, drawn-out note, followed by more laughter. "Right... ask... the musicians," he said, nodding to himself as he approached them.

As they came into sight, one of them spotted him and hastily shushed the others. That was... a little weird, but he was honestly too tired to care right now. He would've given them a sharp whistle to catch their attention, but was afraid of the noise only worsening his headache, and besides, they seemed to all be looking at him anyway. "Hola," he said, waving casually with one hand as he rubbed his head in the other.

"Ey, Héctor!" one of the violinists—what was his name, Héctor knew his name... Gustavo, that was it—said with a grin. "You doin' okay there?"

"Ehh... I've been better," Héctor said, making an effort to straighten his stance. It took a bit more effort than usual, but with the condition of his bones, what didn't these days? "Just... a bit too much to drink last night, I think."

"We could tell!" One of the musicians began to snicker, only to be elbowed in the ribs by another.

Héctor blinked. "Right. I just needed to ask a favor—"

"A favor?" one of the other violinists asked, while a few of her peers chuckled next to her. The noise seemed to be bugging Pizzicato, who stirred behind him, whining.

"Yes?" His bewilderment seemed to prompt a few more laughs that the musicians tried to cover. "Is... something funny about that?" he asked, briefly looking over his shoulder and wondering if his alebrije was doing something behind him to prompt the laughter.

"No, no," Gustavo said, waving his head. "Go on, what favor do you need?"

"I... just need someone to show me where the supply closet is. Ceci—"

The group immediately burst into laughter, the trombonist accompanying it with ridiculous playing. The sound was like a dagger being driven into his skull, and he held his hands over his head. "Ay, stop it!" he cried, staring at them in utter confusion. "What's so funny?!"

Finally Pizzicato seemed to be roused from her slumber, and he felt her little claws digging into his wig as she climbed up to the top of his head, squeaking in displeasure.

"Who do you want to meet in the closet, eh?" one of the musicians jeered.

"¿Qué?" Héctor blurted. He couldn't make any sense of what they were talking about. Whatever it was, Pizzicato seemed upset by it, letting out a growl, but he couldn't make heads or tails of it. "I don't... meet? I'm just trying to—"

"Not one of the girls, that's for sure!" the female violinist added, causing the others to laugh harder.

"I... uh?" That made nothing any clearer, and Héctor was feeling increasingly lost. It would make more sense if the group were just a bunch of cackling hyena alebrijes in disguise. But one thing was becoming clear—whatever they were laughing about, it was at his expense. But what would they...

A sudden panic bolted up his spine, and Héctor whipped around, yanking his alebrije off of his head. "Pizzicato," he whispered desperately, clutching the bat close to his face. "What exactly did I say last night?"

Of course Pizzicato could not answer, only staring up at him apologetically. But his question had apparently not been as quiet as he'd hoped, as Gustavo spoke up behind him: "Oh, nothing too important... chorizo."

The word was punctuated with a few ridiculous notes from the trombonist, and Héctor let go of the alebrije, turning back around to face them again. "C-chorizo?" he repeated. What did that have to do with...?

"Chorizo!" one of the other band members shouted, with a few others echoing it between laughs. Still none of that cleared it up, until another went on: "What a way to go!"

What a way to... oh. Right, that was how he'd... Was that what had happened last night? He'd rambled about how he'd died? That's what was making them laugh like deranged hyenas?

His chest burned in indignation. "W-well I'm sure the way you all died wasn't much better!" he said, gesturing at the group.

"Sure it was!" Gustavo said, getting close enough to elbow Héctor in the side. "Better than choking on a chorizo!"

"What?!" Héctor stepped back, hands up defensively. "That wasn't—! It was bad, I got food poisoning!"

"Sure you did, chorizo!"

He found himself staring at them as they continued to laugh, wondering why the difference even mattered, whether he died by food poisoning or choking on—

Oh.

...Oh.

His cheek bones burned furiously, and he turned away again, covering his face. "That was not what happened," he grumbled into his hands. Not that it would convince them. Pizzicato fluttered around nearby, squeaking angrily at the group, but he tried to wave her off. "Basta—all right, you've had your laugh. Very funny. Now could you just show me where the supply—"

"Ey, didn't you say you were married, too?" Gustavo asked, one brow raised, and the inside of Héctor's rib cage was suddenly burning in anger. "Did she know about—"

The shock of anger traveled quickly from Héctor's heart to his fist.

Next thing he knew, Gustavo was staggering back, supported by the trombonist while the other musicians gave ooooohs of both sympathy and interest. A small part of Héctor regretted the action, but the rest of him didn't care, and his fist remained clenched.

Stupid jokes were one thing, but to even dare to suggest infidelity...

"What's your problem, man?" Gustavo cried, rubbing his jaw where he'd been struck. "Can't you take a—"

Before he could finish, Pizzicato buzzed in front of the group, letting out a terrible, high-pitched shriek that left all of them shrinking back, including Héctor. The noise magnified his headache, nearly blinding him, and he staggered back, blurting out a curse. Immediately the noise stopped, but he was already storming away, eyes narrowed against the ringing in his skull. "Forget it, I'm done," he snarled. "Ceci or whoever can clean the place themselves."

Pizzicato was fluttering after him, squeaking an apology, but Héctor did not slow his pace. He couldn't find the stupid broom, but he knew very well where the exit was���a different one from the fire escape ladder in Ceci's room. Unfortunately, while he left Gustavo and his stupid group behind, the anger and humiliation followed him out of the studio, clinging to his bones. He punched the metal railing of the stairs in an attempt to rid himself of the emotions, but it only resulted in a shock of pain traveling up his arm.

Finally Pizzicato caught up to him, landing on his head and squeaking in concern. "You know," he muttered, narrowing his eyes against the light as he stepped outside, "I'm starting to hate musicians."

His alebrije whined, but said nothing more.

She didn't need to remind him.

[minyoonsgirl]

Nabi - The Girl Without a Name

Summary:You have no memories of your past, all you know is fear as you push your battered body to run faster as you try to escape those who pursue you. Who would have thought that room 205 would hold the key  to seven men who would become your protectors. Who knew that it would lead you to uncovering your past and finding that your savior had already come to your rescue so many times before.

Genre: eventual Fluff, eventual Smut, eventual OT7 x reader

Warnings: Amnesia, themes of fear, implied kidnapping and adult themes. Things will probably be a lot more intense as this story goes on.

Word Count: 1,527

Chapter Three >  < Chapter Five

a/n: Hello lovelies  ♡ This is chapter four of my yoongi x reader fic, eventual ot7 x reader fic. I really do plan for this to be a longer fic, so I do apologize if the chapters seem a little slow, but I really want to have strong character development and a good plot going. I want it to feel like a natural progression, especially with everything our dear reader has been through. Anyway, I hope you enjoy ♡ I also really want to apologize for the length of time it has taken me to get to chapter four, I’ve had some personal things happen in my life that made writing difficult. Thanks for waiting for me  ♡

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Chapter Four - The Girl who doesn’t Smile

While living out of a hotel is never fun, you were sad to leave the room you had started to feel was home. It wasn’t much to pack, the only belongings you actually owned were the dress and shoes you had shown up in, though you really didn’t even want them. Currently you were dressed in an over-sized sweater of Jin’s, it came down past your knees, the sleeves rolled up to your elbows so you could help Yoongi pack. You had been spending an increasing amount of time with the boys, though their schedules were often jam packed, they often found time to make their way back to you. You had just sat down on the bed when Taehyung and Jimin burst through the door, their arms overloaded with bags. 

“Nabiya! Look we got you so many new clothes, you’re going to look so pretty!” Taehyung chattered on, his boxy smile on full display as he ran a hand through his curled locks. Jimin giggled, winking at you as he spoke,

“Not that we don’t enjoy seeing you running around in our clothes,” 

You feel the heat rush to your cheeks, your eyes going wide with surprise. Yoongi shakes his head from where he stands by the end of the bed, his bag nearly finished,

“Can you stop being such a shameless flirt for five minutes, Jiminie?” Yoongi huffs, as he glances over at you. He walks back to you and engulfs you in a hug, letting you hide your face in the crook of his neck. 

“Don’t listen to, Jimin, Nabi. He’s just excited that we’re all finally going home, so he’s being slightly more exaggerated than normal,” Yoongi explains. You marvel at the word home, wondering where on earth that might mean. You knew you were in South Korea, Jeju specifically, on the island for a music video the guys were completing, but you weren’t sure where you would be going. 

“Where is your home?” You ask cautiously, looking up at Yoongi as he peered down at you, a soft smile on his face. 

“Our home is in Seoul. Ours, as in yours as well. We’re done with production so now we get to go home, and rest for a week. Thankfully, we still have plenty of time between now and the comeback,” Yoongi smiled, and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear as he pushed you towards Jimin and Taehyung. Taehyung was already holding a purple dress that was all gossamer, tulle, and sparkles. 

“It reminded me of you, Nabiya. It’s soft and pretty just like a butterfly,” Taehyung explained, his deep voice gentle as he peered down at you with his sweet, dark eyes. You reached out to touch the dress, the material was soft under your fingers. Taehyung handed you the dress, pushing you to the bathroom to change. Ensuring the door was locked, you turned to face the mirror. You tugged at the end of Jin’s sweater, wondering idly why you couldn’t just wear this since it was basically a dress anyway. You shivered as you slipped the sweater over your head to remove it, the cool air settling on your exposed flesh. You winced as you pulled the top off, your ribs still extremely sore. 

You slipped the dress Taehyung had given you on, and looked in the mirror. Your hair was a mess from changing so you attempted to flatten it back down. Despite the still gaunt look of you, you had to admit the dress was beautiful and lent some life to your features. You wondered if this was the kind of thing you wore often before... Back when you still knew who you were. You felt like a new person though, like maybe you could be human again, and you mentally reminded yourself to thank the boys for giving you that. 

As you walked back into the room you were met with clapping hands, and jeers from the two younger men waiting for your arrival. Taehyung rushed to your side, pulling you into him to place a kiss on your forehead. You stilled and felt your entire body grow warm. Taehyung stepped back to admire you, his eyes crinkling when he noticed how red your face had become. You glanced over to Yoongi, who smirked at you, but the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth made it clear that this was a mildly irritating but firmly charming quirk of Taehyung’s. You looked back at Taehyung and rose on your toes to place your lips against his cheek softly, 

“Thank you,” You whispered, walking quickly back over to Yoongi, while Taehyung pulled himself out of the daze he found himself in, his hand cupping the cheek where you had so quickly pressed your lips. You heard a whine from beside you,

“No fair, I bought you clothes too, Jagi. Don’t I deserve a kiss,” Jimin moaned, his lips in a full pout. You could feel Yoongi laughing. His shoulders shaking from the force of it, your body neatly tucked into his. You leaned forward to press a kiss to Jimin’s cheek when he turned, his lips pressing to yours softly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek gently. His lips moved against your own, you felt the whimper as it traveled through you, but you weren’t sure if you wanted more. When Jimin’s tongue swiped against your lip, you whined and Yoongi pulled you back against him. Taehyung smacked Jimin’s arm, an indignant look on his face on your behalf. 

“Jiminie, that’s not fair,” Taehyung whined before turning to you,

“Can I have a kiss too, jagiya?” Taehyung asked, his eyes wide and pleading, you sank further into Yoongi, turning to face him, you bury your face in his chest. 

“Yah, Jimin. What did I say? You guys shouldn’t push her like that,” Yoongi scolds the younger two, Taehyung at the least has the sense to look sheepish when he apologizes. Jimin merely chuckles, 

“Sorry, Jagi. Your lips just look so irresistible,” Jimin says by way of explanation, you nod against Yoongi’s chest, unsure of how to feel at this moment. You couldn’t lie to yourself though. You had enjoyed Jimin’s kiss, and you wanted to kiss Taehyung too… but more than anything you wanted to feel Yoongi’s lips on your own. You just weren’t sure what kissing the other boys would mean… but you were pretty sure, based on Yoongi’s reaction he didn’t really care. At least, not because he wanted you like you wanted him. You shook yourself, trying to distract from the pinching in your chest. You had more pressing things to focus on, like figuring out who the hell you were before all this and how to get that version of you back. 

The trip to Seoul had been uneventful and soon you were settling yourself into Yoongi and Jin’s room, as it was the only member with their own room was Jungkook. This was only because it was too small a room to fit anyone else. You looked around your new room carefully, watching as Yoongi and Jin made space for your new wardrobe. You were admittedly still the closest with Jin and Yoongi so you were glad they had offered you a space with them. Not that you would have minded terribly sharing a space with any of the other boys, all of them offering you a sense of safety. You often wondered what would happen when you finally regained your memories and went back to your normal life, surely the boys would be glad to have their space back. You wondered when they would tire of having you around constantly.

“Nabiya, could you hand me that last bag?” Jin asked, causing you to shake your head to physically clear the thoughts from your mind. You lifted the black canvas bag and handed it to him, miscalculating your body in relation to the world for a moment, causing you to fall into Jin’s outstretched arms. You peered up at him with wide eyes, a blush quickly covering your cheeks as you took in the plump, pink lips inches away from your own. You snatched your eyes  up to meet his dark irises, your breath entering and leaving your lungs in erratic spurts. Jin smiled at you softly, placing a soft kiss to your forehead before steadying you, his hands lingering on your waist.

“Aish, Nabi, if your ankle is still bothering you, you should have mentioned it. You’ve been doing too much work, sit there and relax now,” Jin spoke, pointing to Yoongi’s bed as he focused back on the canvas bag you had handed him. Yoongi was already lying on his stomach, his face buried in the pillows, but he grabbed at you, at Jin’s words. You obliged and moved to lay next to him, sighing contentedly when he pulled you into his chest. The two of you soon drifted to sleep, the last thought on your mind before your exhaustion caught up with you, how were you going to handle falling in love with seven boys when you didn’t even know your own name?

Masterlist

[gumnut-logic]

The Dentist (pt14)

Okay, warnings for child abuse and nasty dentistry in this bit. I haven’t gone into great detail, but if you think this could be upsetting to you, please don’t read.

Still not the last bit, but we are getting closer. I hope this lives up to your expectations. There should be more to come. I have four days off work (yay!) and I plan to make use of them...when children are not demanding Minecraft and puzzle solving or incessantly talking in my ear (gotta love ‘em :D).

Oh, John was a little odd in this one, bit of a ghost...he will have more input in the next bit, I think.

Anyway, thank you all for your wonderful support ::hugs you all like squishy marshmallows :D :: I hope you enjoy this bit...well, as much as you can considering the topic.

From here.

-o-o-o-

Scott felt nothing but dread.

A quick trip to the showers, clothing and a word to John and he returned to the comms room like an executioner going to a beheading.

John, by his side, squeezed his shoulder.

To his surprise Virgil had relocated out onto the balcony. The sun was setting behind them and presenting a glorious pink sky over the ocean. The soft sounds of approaching night and the cool breeze calmed his hackles just a little. Virgil had moved a couple of deck chairs out onto the balcony. When he looked up and saw John, he stood up and grabbed another one.

A small table was full of food and Scott vaguely realised it was actually dinner time.

Gordon and Alan were conspicuously absent.

“Scott, John, have a seat. I’ve raided the pantry. Gordon and Alan are having a video game tournament in Alan’s room.” It was said with the scoff that made it obvious that Virgil knew they were missing for a reason. “Sit down and eat something.”

Scott was anything but hungry, but he did as his brother asked anyway, grabbing a slice of bread and throwing some ham, cheese and a little mustard on it.

He watched Virgil as his brother sat down with a bowl of soup. “Where did you get that?”

“Out of a can.”

Scott made a mental note to put together some more edible soft foods for the next few days.

John grabbed three beers out of the cooler stashed beside the table and handed one to each of them. Scott popped the cap and swigged a good mouthful. The cool bubbles on the back of his throat were wonderful.

But he was delaying the inevitable.

Virgil was gingerly scooping lukewarm soup into his mouth. The occasional wince proof that it was anything but comfortable.

Brown eyes flickered in his direction and frowned. “Eat your dinner, Scott.”

He didn’t answer, but shoved his sandwich in his mouth and chewed.

It was tasteless.

With half a bowl of soup left, Virgil winced one last time and put the bowl down and closed his eyes.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine. Just need to take it slow. Not my first mouth injury.”

No, it wasn’t. Scott’s heart clenched.

The sandwich slapped on the plate and was discarded on the table. A glance at John and Scott realised his younger brother hadn’t even bothered to put any food together and was just sucking on his beer bottle.

They were a sad trio.

“So, you going to tell me what has all of you so riled up?” Virgil stood up and put some covers over the food.

A gull screeched in the distance.

The breeze danced across Scott’s arms and raised goose pimples.

Virgil sat down on the edge of his lounger and turned to face him. “Please tell me. I can’t bear to see the fear in your eyes any longer.”

His heart leapt into his throat. He sat up and mirrored Virgil’s position, sitting on the edge of his lounger. John, silent as ever, slipped around and sat next to Virgil, his presence reassuring.

And insurance.

Scott swallowed. “Do you remember Grandma Taylor?”

Virgil blinked as if surprised. “Sure. How could I forget? She had a blue mohawk. Kinda unforgettable.”

The thinnest of smiles curled the corners of Scott’s lips. “Yeah, she was.” The ultimate source of Virgil’s artistic streak and entirely to blame for the horrible neo-punk era of Virgil’s early teens. She influenced from beyond the grave to the point Scott thought his brother might be haunted by her.

“What about her?”

The smile disappeared.

“Do you remember how you got your eyebrow scar?”

Virgil blinked. “Yeah, helping Grandpa Taylor with his vintage car. Tripped over and encountered his toolbox. Nearly took out my eye on the latch.”

“Did you hurt anything else?”

-o-o-o-

Virgil stared at Scott. The incident itself was pretty clear in his mind because of the scar he had to look at every morning in the mirror. He could remember the old car with its ancient canvas canopy and the wiggly windows he could barely reach. It had been a green car, but for the life of him, he had no idea what make or model. He couldn’t remember seeing it again after that incident. Which was odd since Grandpa Taylor had been so enamoured with it.

‘Helping’ was a far too generous word for what Virgil had actually been doing. Wandering around the car, poking his fingers into things that four year old fingers probably shouldn’t have been poking in. He remembered Grandpa lifting him into the driver’s seat and for a few brilliant moments he had been the driver of the stationary vehicle.

Why he had been running was forgotten, but the sudden airborne feeling and loss of control followed by a blast of pain...he remembered that.

His mouth twinged and he realised he was gritting his teeth. “No, just my head.” He fingered the scar on his left eyebrow. “Hurt like the bejesus.”

“You had stitches.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure you didn’t hurt anything else?”

A frown. “I don’t think so. Had a headache for days afterwards though.”

Scott looked awful.

“What is it?”

His brother looked away a moment as if steeling himself before catching his eyes. “You say you don’t know why you are afraid of the dentist.”

Virgil straightened, immediately tense. “No, I don’t know why. It’s a phobia, Scott, it doesn’t need a reason. It is not logical, but no less terrifying.”

Scott held up a hand. “Hey, you know I respect that. If there had been any other way, I would have taken it.”

Lips thinning, Virgil didn’t comment on that. Too raw.

“But I think we found a reason.”

“What?”

Scott swallowed visibly. “After you got your stitches, Grandma Taylor took you to the dentist.”

A blink. “No, she didn’t.”

“Eos found the records.”

“I had a bad reaction to the local anaesthetic they gave me for the stitches. You know how I react to drugs. Grandma took me home and I slept it off.” He’d been stuck in his bedroom at Grand Roca for days, his face aching, his mouth sore...

“No.”

Scott hand wrapped around his arm. “The records say that you attended the dentist and had a filling and a tooth repair.”

“I don’t have any fillings.” Okay, technically not true anymore, thanks to the crown installed yesterday.

“They were in your baby teeth.” Scott’s fingers tightened just a little as John handed him a tablet with a photograph on it. “Do you remember this man?”

Virgil’s eyes landed on a middle aged, balding, smiling face.

And he was stumbling backwards, tripping over the lounger he had been sitting on, scrabbling to get purchase and get out of there. Hands caught him and for a second he was there, strapped in a chair, bright light glaring into his eyes, that smooth voice sickly sweet and encouraging each time he cried out.

“Virgil!”

Scott. His beloved big brother was holding him. He was sprawled on the hardwood floor. His brother’s heart pounded in his ear as Virgil slowly wilted against him. “Who was that?” He squeezed his eyes shut, confused at his reaction, the terror, and the question of why.

John curled up and sat in front of the two of them. “He was the dentist.”

“What did he do to me?” It came out high pitched and fear-filled.

Scott’s arms tightened around him as he answered. “We don’t know.” This time he felt his brother swallow. “Six months after your visit, a five year old boy died in that chair and Dr Leonard Bornstein was found responsible.”

“Leo. Doctor Leo.” It came out so dry and parched it hurt his throat. He could see the smile now, above him as he cried. “What did he do?”

Those arms tightened around him again. “He was a sadist. He tortured children and he was in the perfect position to do it. When questioned he blamed it on childhood fears and misbehaviour.”

“Grandma didn’t believe me.” It came out in a rush, memories stabbing at him. “I was too sensitive. Needed to toughen up.” Oh god. He squeezed his eyes shut at the betrayal, self doubt and shame. “Let me up. I need to get up.”

Scott’s arms loosened around him and Virgil struggled to his feet. Both his brothers stood, both obviously worried about him and staring at him like he was a fragile explosive about to go off in their faces. He straightened forcing some strength into his spine. He was no longer a kid. “Alan said he died?”

John spoke up. “Several years ago, in a psychiatric prison.”

“Why were we never contacted about this?”

“There was no court case, the diagnosis was enough. He pleaded guilty and disappeared into the system.”

“A child died.” In that chair, with the drill, its high pitched whine humming in his bones, touching down on his teeth, his gum, the taste of blood in his mouth, fat fingers prodding at the back of his throat prompting him to gag...

His stomach rolled and his body complied, his sparse dinner making a return trip. He barely made it to a potted plant before losing it all.

Acid burned in the back of his throat as he tried to choke on himself.

A hand rubbed his back as a glass of water and a box of tissues appeared beside him. His already sore teeth screamed blue murder and he took the water gratefully, washing his mouth with its coolness. The headache that had threatened earlier in the day took advantage and settled in, the left side of his head pounding to the beat of his heart.

The hand continued to rub his back.

“God, this sucks.”

“Yeah, it does. I’m so sorry.”

“Well, at least I have a reason.”

Scott drew him close, wrapping his arms around him again, a large hand holding his head to his big brother’s shoulder. “Yeah, you have one hell of a reason.”

-o-o-o-

TBC

[ehstarwar]

under thy own life’s key (3/7)

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m just… in a funk.” That’s a good way to phrase it.

‘I mutually masturbated with my best friend and now all I can think of is how much he means to me and how much I want him to fuck me into the mattress for the rest of time. This is causing a personal turmoil that is manifesting in me being rude to everyone who cares about me, including said best friend who will probably never talk to me again when we get back from this trip’, seems too on the nose.

-

Rey deals with the aftermath of her exploits with Ben in a very healthy, mature manner. (She throws a temper tantrum.)

-

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4K

Read on AO3

Notes: happy easter, plz enjoy this basket of sin ༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ

Chapter 3: strike those who wish them best

-

Rey wakes up to cool sheets and the light filtering in from the small window across from the bed. A stark contrast to yesterday morning when she’d woken up in Ben’s embrace. She tries not to feel disappointed by it. Rey turns over, staring at the top bunk, replaying the events of last night in her head. 

She’d had masturbated, not a wholly unusual event by itself, but with Ben. With her best friend, who she’s known for years. The same best friend she will be spending the next four days with. In this same bed. Where they’d masturbated. Together. 

She wishes she was more experienced sexually; maybe then this wouldn’t have been a big deal then. Maybe she would’ve been able to wake up and go have breakfast and celebrate her friends and not even spared the whole endeavor a second thought. Maybe she wouldn’t be dying to know how Ben felt about this. 

The image of him, body crouched on the bed, hand covered in his come, was seared into her brain; a tattoo she didn’t know she’d be getting. She’d never seen such a dark look in Ben’s eyes. It terrified her as much as it aroused her. When the tell-tale licks of heat start in her core, Rey knows its time to get up before her brain goes down a path that leaves her aching all day.

-

Rey doesn’t see Ben at breakfast. Rose tells her that he went for a run with Phasma before she woke up and it makes something red-hot take over her vision for a minute. Just because Phasma is a tall, grecian, etherial beauty that can only be rivaled by Aphrodite herself, doesn’t mean anything. And even if it did mean anything, Ben isn’t Rey’s to worry about. 

Also, Rey is pretty sure Phasma transcends sexuality all together, so she’s crazy to be worried about her and Ben.

Rey is still a grouch for the rest of the morning, just in case.

It’s nearly noon before Ben gets back, sweaty and ripe and literally glowing, and Rey has to take a minute for herself so that she doesn’t rip her hair out. 

“Damn, Solo! Is that what you’re hiding under all those sweaters?” Jannah makes a show of wiggling her eyebrows at Ben and that same red-hot feeling returns with a vengeance. The tips of Ben’s ears turn red and he stutters something bashful under his breath. 

“Jannah are you going to come with us to the supermarket or not?” Rey asks. Well, asks would be a nice way to put it. Snapping with venom of a viper would be a more accurate description. 

“Ugh…” Jannah says, looking at Rey like a deer in headlights, “I think I’ll pass on this one.”

“Okay!” Rey realizes she may have been too harsh, so she tries to make up for it by being overly cheerful. It just makes her look insane. “I’m going to go grab my shoes,” She shouts to Poe as she descends the stairs to her room. 

By the time she’s able to locate the canvas Keds that have definitely seen better days, Ben is standing in the doorway. 

“How was your run?” She asks as she tugs her shoes on with much more force than necessary.

“Good… its hot as fuck out there, though. I’ll probably need an ice bath just to cool off.” Me and you both, mister.

“Well, good luck with that!” Rey’s high-pitched voice sings out. She goes to walk past him and up the stairs. Ben’s hand catches her arm right as she’s about to pass him and her heart stops.

“Rey, is everything alright?” His voice is full of concern and it makes Rey want to die a little.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?” Ben gives her a look that really makes her want to die.

“I didn’t want anything to be awkward after last night, so-”

“Honestly, nothing is awkward. Whatever you think in awkward is probably in your own head because I don’t feel it. So don’t worry so much.” 

Ben’s face falls as he releases her arm. For a moment, Rey is tempted to come clean with him; tell him that last night woke something in her that had long been forming and now the reality of it is crushing her and just being in the same room as him is almost too much. But she doesn’t. She calls out her goodbye as she walks up the stairs and tries to focus on literally anything besides his hurt expression when he let her go.

-

“Should we go with the corn tortillas or the flour ones?” Poe asks. 

“Corn. It will be more authentic that way.” Hux replies. 

Rey pushes the buggy as Poe, Rose, and Finn load it up with sugary junk that Hux promptly returns to the shelf. Her sour mood is palpable and the rest of her friend had chosen to steer clear of her for the time being. 

Rey hates this. She hates feeling this way, she hates making this trip anything less than the magnificent occasion Hux and Poe anticipated, she hates herself for not being able to just get over it. It would be so easy if she could just hate Ben, blame this all on him, but she can’t. It’s not his fault, just hers. 

“Oh, what about this, babe?” Poe say, holding up a giant bag of marshmallows that would make you dislocate your jaw to be able to stuff in your face. “It’ll be good for the bonfire tomorrow.”

Hux grumbles something about ‘glucose’ and ‘diabetic coma’, but tosses a bag in the buggy anyways. Sometimes it was so easy to see why Hux and Ben were friends.

“If you see anything you want, just toss it in, Rey. We still have a long time at the cabin and I know how you like your six meals each day,” Poe tells her. For the first time in her relatively short life, she doesn’t get the thrill of a supermarket stuffed with food that she could potentially have. She remembers the first time she walked into an actual grocery store, with fresh vegetables and a whole bakery, instead of just a gas station on a corner.

If eight year old could see Rey now, grumpy and quiet, not shoving her arms full of any food she could find, she’d hate herself. Twenty-five year old Rey kind of does too.

“I’m good. I’m sure you all will get enough.”

Three set of eyes turn back to stare at her, like she just spoke in pig latin. Hux just keeps wandering down the frozen food section.

“Peanut, are you okay? You’ve been a little… off today.” Rose asks, voice full concern.

“She means that you’ve been a heinous bitch,” Finn clarifies, making Rose slap his chest. Rey just rolls her eyes.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m just… in a funk.” That’s a good way to phrase it. ‘I mutually masturbated with my best friend and now all I can think of is how much he means to me and how much I want him to fuck me into the mattress for the rest of time. This is causing a personal turmoil that is manifesting in me being rude to everyone who cares about me, including said best friend who will probably never talk to me again when we get back from this trip’, seems too on the nose. 

“Is it because of Ben? Do you not want to room with him any more?” Poe asks. Rey ignores the sharp flash of a glare Hue sends her way.

“No, that’s not it at all. It’s just… Ben is my best friend.” Finn clears his throat. “Sorry, one of my best friends,” Rey rectifies. “But sometimes I feel like I don’t know where we stand. Like if I annoy him too much, he’d never say. He’s just so damn thoughtful. It’s infuriating when I’m trying to figure out if I did something wrong.”

Her friends share a sheepish look before Rose speaks up again. “Have you tried talking about it with Ben?”

Rey scoffs. “If I told him that, he’d apologize to me and I’d feel even worse.”

“Did something happen?” Poe asks.

“No!” Rey shouts, a little too quickly, “Just tight quarters, and all…”

“You’re always welcome to come stay in my room if you need some space!” Rose pipes up, earning a wide-eyed look from Finn. Rey wants to say that if the two of them just fessed up and admitted they were together, they could’ve stayed in the same room and Rey would have been able to have her own room and she wouldn’t be in this mess at all. 

But there are levels of bitchyness that even Rey won’t stoop to.

In order to distract her friends from the inner crisis that was threatening to break loose, Rey throws a four-pack of instant mac & cheese in the buggy. They look placated enough to go back to grocery hauling. 

(The mac & cheese is entirely for their benefit and not because it has Rey’s favorite Galaxy Battles character on it.)

-

Those who stayed behind are down by the lake, so Finn and Rose make a bee line for it while Rey, Poe, and Hux unload the groceries. The banter between Hux and Poe is cute in a way that reminds her of old grandparents, who’ve been together for over 50 years and argue about the smallest thing, but love each other more than words.

They’re in a verbal spar about where to put the produce in the fridge when Ben comes in. He’d actually changed into his swim trunks today, the black ones his mother had bought him specifically for this trip. He’s shirtless, water droplets running down his chest, and hair slicked back, glossy and starting to curl. 

Rey bites her lip so hard she taste the metallic rush of blood in her mouth.

“You know we’re only staying here for another four days. You bought enough food to feed a small country,” Ben remarks, taking stock of the multitude of bags (paper, Hux insisted) lining the kitchen. 

“We’re having tacos for dinner! It requires a lot of ingredients, Benji,” Poe says without looking up. Ben comes to stand by Rey, helping her unpack all of the bags. 

“How’s the lake?” She asks, wanting to keep the conversation from returning to questions of her bad mood from earlier.

“It’s hot enough that the lake feels like bath water.”

“Mmm. That’s my favorite. Anything else is too cold.”

“Makes sense, for a desert rat.” She looks up to see ben smirking at her, playful glint in his eyes. Rey rolls her eyes, and bumps him with her hip.

“What? Can’t take the heat, city-slicker?” She taunts to him. Ben just plucks the can of refried beans out of her hands and places it on the top shelf, one she can’t get to without a ladder or freakishly tall legs. 

She realizes that this playfulness means that they’re back to normal, and Rey feels her heart swell with relief.

-

The four of them make sandwiches for everyone down by the lake, and Rey and Ben are charged with bringing it down while Hux and Poe find bowls for chips. Rey doesn’t mention that it’s probably best that they stay in the bag, knowing its a sorry excuse for some alone time. It is their bachelor weekend, after all.

They’re halfway down the path, a comfortable silence over them when Ben finally speaks up.

“You seem to be in a better mood than earlier.”

She shrugs.

“I got Galaxy Battles mac & cheese for 30% off, so it's kind of hard to have a bad day after that.” Ben hums quietly.

“I just wanted to make sure we’re cool. You sort of brushed me off earlier.” The guilt that had repressed itself resurfaced and Rey thinks about running away from this conversation.

“Sorry about that. It’s nothing, really. I’m better now, I promise,” She looks back over to him with a 1000-watt smile, hoping to appease Ben. His expression softens when he sees her, making Rey almost miss a step.

“Good. I don’t want anything to come between us.” His voice is strong and Rey is tempted to ask how he feels. She thinks better of it for a moment, knowing that prolonging this will just end badly.

“Me too, Ben.” It’s the first time all day she hasn’t had to lie. It makes her heart a little lighter. 

-

The rest of the day had gone by unceremoniously. Rey had apologized to Jannah (who was confused, but let it go when Rey brought her a white claw), spent the better part of the afternoon at the lake, and feasted on some delicious tacos for dinner. (The tacos were delicious because Ben took over once Poe burned his hand and Hux had threatened to call the national guard to come look at his wound).

Everything would have been perfectly fine if Ben didn’t look so fucking good. Like cover of GQ, built AF, gigantic manly-man but radiates softie vibes, good. Rey was dying. No human should be allowed to make taco consumption feel like a religious experience, but clearly no one told Ben that.

So now she’s in bed, with Ben, staring up in the darkness, holding onto the last shred of sanity that had the tenacity of dental floss. 

If this was her own bed, Rey would be able to scream into her pillow in agony. She’d be able to toss and turn to her hearts content. She wouldn’t have even been in this problem in the first place.

But she’s not in her own bed. She is in a queen sized (maybe) death contraption that was sent straight here from Satan himself. The frustration she felt all over (but particularly in her nether regions) was boiling over into hot tears pricking at her eyes. And she absolutely would not let herself cry.

Rey is an adult. She pays her rent on time (usually). She bypasses sugar-inundated treats for healthy, greener options (from time to time). She has a whole shelf in her bathroom dedicated to vitamins (and expired face masks). She will not cry out of sexual frustration.

If the tears leak out of the corners of her eyes without any resistance from her, that’s on them.

She turns to her side, away from Ben, to let the drops be absorbed by her pillow case, when she hears his breathing shift.

“Can’t sleep?” His voice is low, like he’s testing to see if she’s awake.

“Yeah. You?” She asks, muffling her voice in her pillow and hoping he can’t hear her involuntary sniffle. Which is, of course, no use.

“… Are you crying?”

“No.” Her voice betrays her and she feels ben scoot closer towards her.

“Rey.” The way he says her name makes a damn break inside of her.

“I can’t sleep and I’m crying about it like I’m some sort of petulant baby! It’s ridiculous! I have a job and insurance and and a bar cart for crying out loud, and I’m crying because I can’t sleep. What kind of adult am I? I mean, honestly Ben, how do you put up with me?”

She hears him chuckle before she feels his finger skim across her cheek, brushing away the fresh wave of tears that had fallen. She’s not sure if he could tell the way she chased his hand with her face when he moves it away.

“I choose to put up with you because I want to. I don’t see it as an inconvenience,” He says. Rey doesn’t respond, just lays there soaking up the words that cause a rush of dopamine to flood her brain.

After a minute, Ben speaks up again. “Would it be helpful if you did the same thing as last night-“”

“No. I… I’m… I don’t want to do that to you again.” I want to do much, much worse things.

“You act like it was a huge burden, like I don’t do it all the time,” Ben snorts. Images of Ben, casually lounging around his apartment, jerking off with no constraints, fill Rey’s head and it only makes the dull fire that’s been plaguing her all day grow even hotter.

“It’s just that… I’m so keyed up right now. Whenever I get like this, it’s harder to get off. If I try to get off now, I run the risk of being too wound up to let go and making it even worse.” Ben gives her a noise of understanding and they go back to laying in silence.

“I could help.”

Rey’s snaps towards him, meeting his milky brown eyes and realizing he’d been looking at her the whole time. She uses this to embolden herself and ask the next question.

“How?”

“However you need.”

The offer hangs in the air, like the Sword of Damocles, threatening to fall and burst the bubble Rey feels she and Ben are in.

Her gaze flicks down his body,  seeing where the blanket has shifted and his thigh is peaking out. She immediately rights herself, pulling her eyes back to his. But nothing gets past him, not even in the dead of night, when they’re illuminated only by the soft moonlight of their sole window. 

Ben pulls the blanks down further, revealing his milky thighs, wrapped in muscle and dusted with dark hair. Rey gulps and feels her body positively gush. 

“You don’t have to do this, Ben.” Her voice is a hushed whisper but feels like lightning in a silent storm.

“I know. I want to.”

Rey tentatively moves her hand to brush his thighs, just below where his boxer shorts began. She moves her whole body towards him, then, just as he spreads his leg further. Rey keeps her eyes on her hand on his thigh as she moves to push her leg over his. 

Rey wants to kiss the feet of whatever Deity forced her to wear her babydoll nightgown and forego shorts all together. 

The first brush of her covered cunt on his thigh sends a shock through her, making her shudder. Rey doesn’t dare look up at Ben, just keeps her eyes trained on where their bodies are now touching. She grips the underside of his thigh, pulling it up towards her so that her whole core is firmly resting on his tree-trunk thighs.

“Is this okay?” She asks, voice breathless and still refusing to look up.

“Yeah.” She feels less bad when she hears his voice is even more breathless than hers. 

The first experimental rocking of her hips feels like sweet heaven. So she does it again. And Again. And again. She grinds into him softly, trying to not show how desperate she is to shove herself on him and piston her hips as fast as humanly possible. Her panties become uncomfortably wet from her ministrations and, without thinking, Rey shoves her hands between them to push her underwear to the side. 

“Rey…” Ben’s voice chokes out. She can’t stop her rocking, even if she wanted to. But she asks him anyways.

“Is this okay?” He voice is a whine, high pitched and needy. Ben’s low mumble to the affirmative pushes her even further. She clutch him closer, feeling the way his ticklish hair rubs against her pussy lips. The warmth of his skin against her cunt. The tightening of muscles she feels beneath her. 

Rey rolls her body further onto him, trying to get an even better angle for her clit to brush up against. She’s over half of him now, face buried in his shoulder. She can smell him so much better like this. The overwhelming scent of body wash and laundry detergent; the slight hint of musk between his arms is her favorite. 

Her hand involuntary seeks purchase agains his chest, going to clutch his white shirt over his pec. Rey rocks harder and harder each time, letting out soft moans and squeaks when she catches her clit just right.  

Rey rides his thigh like a bull; bucking wildly, holding on for dear life. Her orgasm approaches and she slows her movements, wanting this to last as along as humanly possible. Maybe even for the rest of her life. 

“Rey!” Ben cries out again and her head instantly shoots up to look at him. His hands are gripping the bottom of the bunk above them. He is flushed down to his neck, and has sweat gathering at the base of his neck. His black hair is plastered to his forehead. But the most haunting this is his eyes. They’re open, and staring down to where Rey’s cunt is forcefully pushing against his thigh. 

He looks like he could eat her. 

Rey is coming before she knows it, unable to look away from Ben’s face. Her juices coat his leg as she still rocks agains him, slower now, but the slick sound of skin makes an obscene noise that makes him growl. She buries her face in his shoulder again, breathing heavy against him. Ben’s body is still underneath hers, knee up to keep Rey on him as she comes down from her high. When she calms down enough to reenter her body, she rolls off of him, wincing when she feels her sopping wet cunt pull off of his thigh. 

Rey finally gets the courage to look back up at him, and finds his eyes closed, looking like he was controlling his breathing. His neck and face are still flushed and she resist the urge to brush his hair back to see the tips of his red ears. 

She may had just ridden his thigh into oblivion, but casual touches of intimacy were too far to be risked. 

Ben stands up with a start, hopping up and turning to look back down at Rey, who is now in a blob on the bed. He regards her for a minute, and she him. When the white streak of his come starts trailing down his leg, she realizes what going on. 

“I’ll, uh… go clean up.” Ben says before turning to the bathroom. She catches another glimpse of his glistening thigh and another streak of come wandering down his leg. Rey is sure if she could move right now, she would be unable to stop herself from reaching out and licking it up.

Rey adjusts herself back on the bed, squarely on her side. She doesn’t care that she’s a wet, sticky mess between her legs. She doesn’t care her heart rate still hasn’t slowed down to a normal level. All she can think about his how good it feels to know she made him come. 

She’s asleep before Ben exits the bathroom.

[zenithlux]

Cadence Update - CH 14

I’m too excited to post these chapters. I should probably slow down a bit. But with everything going on in life nowadays, the Cadence train is keeping me sane. So please, Enjoy this update :)

Catch up on the story here!

In which Vergil gets used to his new home and makes another deal with Roxy.

----------------

A heartbeat without harmony Is moonlight without dark The heart seeketh equilibrium With balance will your worry part.

“Equilibrium” - Final Fantasy 14 OST

----------------

When Vergil woke up alone for the first time three days later, it took him far too long to get used to the silence. Nero and Nico had stayed until the night before, split between Vergil and Roxy’s apartments until the boat to Fortuna returned. Vergil had offered to open a portal for them and hadn’t realized until after Nero nearly punched him that it had sounded more like he was trying to get rid of them. Thankfully, Dante had understood (“cool it, kiddo. He’s just trying to help”), and Nero had apologized. Except both were left perplexed when they both apologized at the exact same time, something that had taken Vergil an embarrassing amount of courage to do. 

But Vergil hadn’t missed the hint of approval in his son’s eyes, and the last two days were the best they’d been since Vergil had come back. They still didn’t talk all that much (unsurprising), but they also didn’t fight. Dante got called away after the electricity went out (odd considering Vergil had paid the bill himself two weeks ago). Nico stayed with Roxy to give Vergil time to adjust to this new life of his, and Nero hovered close to him as if not quite sure what he was trying to do. 

And just before the two hunters left, Nero had looked relieved, more so than Vergil had seen in a long time. “You’re doing better than I thought,” Nero said as he brushed his fingers through his hair (most certainly a nervous tick, Vergil decided) “just don’t forget to visit once and awhile.”

And that had meant more to Vergil than anything else Nero had said that weekend. 

Now, Vergil was alone (not counting the woman who he was certain was already awake down the hallway), and he didn’t know what to think of it. Had he truly gotten so used to Dante’s incessant presence that he felt strange without it? Vergil assumed he would get used to it over time, but he hadn’t expected it. 

The apartment was more than adequate, so moving in had been simple. The layout was the same as Roxy’s, only flipped as it was on the opposite side of the building. She had taken great care on the decorations, having chosen a mixture of blues and golds for the furniture including the intricately woven rug filled with whimsical, golden stars. The paint on the walls was the same, but the artwork was different; less fantasy creatures and more landscapes. He had two couches instead of one, with a coffee table between them. There was also no television, something he’d been surprised by, as he’d only mentioned his annoyance with them in passing. Instead, the far wall was covered with two, dark, mahogany bookcases with a generous amount of books. And while those were impressive enough, Vergil had quickly found the gift card with a note- “$500, get whatever you need =)” - and hadn’t bothered trying to give it back. Roxy never accepted returned gifts, but Vergil had yet to find out how or why she was so frivolous with her money.

But there would be plenty of time for that. 

For the moment, Vergil stared at a water-colored, sunset landscape that was suspiciously similar to the bookmark she’d given Vergil eons ago. His bedroom was more empty than hers, but he didn’t mind it. The bed was far bigger than the one in Devil May Cry, and he had yet to figure out how she found a queen-sized bed long enough that he didn’t have to curl up into an awkward ball to lie down like a normal person. 

Not that he did that often. Of course. What a waste of time that would be. 

His mind did drift, however, to the single room she’d left empty; the studio. Apparently Roxy’s apartment had not been the only one to receive such an upgrade, though he had a feeling the ones on the other floors probably weren’t so lucky. She’d left a note on that door too; “Let me know what you want”. But Vergil hadn’t known what he wanted to do with it. The space was almost menacing in a way. He didn’t want to waste it frivolously, but he also didn’t know what he would use such a thing for. For now, he’d bought a single desk, a chair tall enough for him, and a decently priced laptop that spent more time in Roxy’s apartment than his own. It would do for now, until Vergil figured out what exactly he wanted out of it. 

The only downside to the entire set up was Aki, as the little owl-griffon seemed oddly fascinated with Vergil’s presence. He’d caught the demon prowling around his living space no less than four times. Now, Vergil smelled the creature everywhere, even though the scent was nothing compared to Kuro’s down the hall. Roxy had apologized profusely twice now, chastising the demon, but Vergil knew from experience that cats rarely cared what their owners had to say. And, knowing Aki was far too intrigued to listen to her, Vergil let it go, and the familiar slipped between the walls as he pleased.  Vergil couldn’t help but imagine Shadow doing the exact same thing. She would be stalking his new partner, waiting to decide if Roxy was trustworthy or not. 

Besides, since the familiar had started visiting, Vergil’s sleep had been oddly better. He couldn’t imagine why, as neither Aki’s nor Kuro’s presence felt particularly soothing. Roxy herself had left him alone since the move, letting him seek her out instead. But, so far at least, Vergil had actually been able to rest for the first time in what felt like decades. 

For all he knew, it had been.

It was 7 am when the music started; a quiet, harmonious chorus of female voices with a subtle beat of drums and an accompanying violin. Vergil had heard it a few times now, as Roxy listened to music before going to sleep, but he hadn’t focused on it for longer than a few seconds. And now that he was, he was intrigued enough to skip breakfast (a formality, really), grab his coat, and wander over to her apartment. 

He found Roxy in her studio with Kuro sleeping on a cleaned off part of the desk. Aki was on the floor, chirping a string of excited noises. Roxy responded in a few short “yes” and “no’s”, but clearly wasn’t paying much attention. Instead, she stared at the blank canvas before her, occasionally glancing down at the unopened bottles of paint on a table beside her, courtesy of Vergil’s little errand a month prior. He almost knocked on the door but thought better of it. He was certain Aki had seen him, and startling Roxy now would likely cause an expensive catastrophe. 

As the song shifted to the first verse, Roxy began to sway. It was subtle, and Vergil was fairly certain she had no idea she was doing it. The voice that followed was that of another woman, her pitch a few octaves higher than normal. 

The sigh of a shifting sea The kiss of a salt sweet breeze, The white of a silken dress Stained in red.

Vergil’s head tilted as he tried to discern the song’s meaning. Another pastime of his, though Dante’s taste in music was pretty bland. Roxy’s, however, was much more pleasing, and dwelling on the lyrics was actually thought-provoking. 

A memory fading fast Her mother sits, eyes downcast A torn uniform in hand Farewells unsaid.

“The song is actually quite sad when you think about it,” Roxy said without looking at him. “Her mother, consumed by grief at the loss of her husband, abuses her daughter who prays to the goddess Sophia for help.”

“And?”

“The goddess demands equilibrium,” Roxy said as the lyrics continued. 

So still this broken melody And therewith shoulder thee One last step only leaving An empty hearth down by the sea

“The daughter kills her mother,” Vergil said. 

“And then herself,” Roxy said, her voice quiet. “And thus, equilibrium is maintained.” Aki gave a quiet chirp, and Roxy nodded. “A client sent this song along with a bunch of reference material. Apparently this goddess comes from a video game of some sort. He called it a ‘primal’.”

“Primal?”

She nodded. “Apparently, these creatures can be summoned with energy and fervent prayers. Collect enough power in one place and boom,” She waved one hand in the air in a dramatic arc. “You’ve got yourself a primal.” She sighed as she crossed her arms again. “So he wants a painting of this one for his girlfriend.”

“Sounds simple enough,” Vergil said.

“In theory,” Roxy agreed. “But he’s giving me free rein. The only thing he asked is that I don’t just draw her and call it a day.”

“Do you have a plan?”

Roxy sighed. “Not yet. I was hoping listening to the song in here would inspire something but…” She frowned as she looked back at the canvas. “I said I’d send him some sketches tomorrow before I committed to the canvas.”

“He doesn’t want a digital copy?”

“Local client,” She said. “They usually ask for canvas work. The sketches will be on my tablet though.” She shifted to the desk and gently eased a black screen out from under Kuro’s belly. The dragon huffed but otherwise didn’t stir. “If you want,” Roxy said with an excited grin. “I can show you my process and whatnot if that’s something that interests you.”

Vergil nodded. “Only if you’re feeling well.”

She chuckled nervously. “I may need a few demons.”

“A few?”

“I haven’t absorbed anything in a few days,” She said defensively. “ I didn’t exactly have the time to slip away.”

“You should have said something.”

She snorted. “I don’t think I could have,” She said as she shook her head. “Your family is… something else.”

“Indeed.”

“I don’t know how you handle them on a daily basis.”

A pause. “I don’t.”

Her laughter was more pleasing than the song that had all but faded to the background. “I guess I’m not surprised,” She said as Aki hopped onto her shoulder. “If I’m honest, you do seem to be very different from them.” She paused, then quickly said. “Not in a bad way! They’re just…”

“Loud?” Vergil said. “Controlling?”

She snorted again. “I’d imagine you’d be quite good at controlling people.”

Vergil didn’t know why he smirked at that. “How so?”

He wasn’t surprised when her face flushed a far deeper shade of crimson than usual. “I just get… that feeling… I suppose…” She mumbled as she quickly averted her gaze. “You know?”

“Afraid I don’t.”

“Oh hush.” She waved him off as her smile returned. “Aki found some demons nearby if you want to join me. Or you can make coffee or breakfast or go read or…”

“Isn’t the point of this arrangement that I go with you?”

Roxy’s eyelids fluttered. Her heart skipped a beat. Alarm swept through Vergil when her pupils shifted to Kuro’s ice-blue hue. He was by her side in an instant, hand hovering inches from her arm. Part of him wanted to reach out and catch her preemptively. The other half of him pulled away, the sheer thought of touching her…

Except… he wanted to.

Why?

His fingers brushed her back when she stumbled. Her hand shot out, reaching for something. Vergil took it without thinking and forced himself to keep hold. Her skin was so… warm. So different from the frozen Roxy he’d seen forever ago. And her hands were so soft and supple… so much different than his own 

“Whoa,” She said. “That was… weird.”

Her hand slipped from his grasp, and he ignored the empty feeling in his chest. “What happened?” Vergil said as he took a small step back. 

She blinked slowly before she looked at him. “I… don’t know. I just… blanked.” She shook her head. “Kuro…”

“I saw,” The dragon said “But I cannot explain it any better than you.” 

“Maybe I’m just tired,” 

“You need to hunt,” Vergil said. 

“Probably that too.” She agreed. “Are you okay?”

“What do you mean?”

She hesitated, and took a deep breath before speaking again. “I know its… hard to touch me.”

With the way she said it, Vergil wasn’t certain if she was talking about his aversion to touch, or her own. He tried to split his answer somewhere down the middle: as diplomatic and truthful as he could manage. “I believe it is something we’ll both have to get used to.”

Slowly, she nodded. “I used to hate it,” She said quietly. “After the accident, at least. Between the doctors and the nurses and my father and my former friends… Everyone insisted on helping me. Very few actually did.” Her eyes drifted closed, but her heartbeat remained the same. “I started to loathe the feeling of… well anyone really.” She chuckled, but it was hollow. “Kind of ironic how much I miss it now.”

Vergil was silent, unable to speak through the war inside his mind. What could he say? How did he respond to such an honest admission? A normal person would respond in kind, but he wasn’t ready to do that. He wasn’t ready to admit that he hadn’t felt another’s touch in years. Decades. Even hugging his brother felt foreign. All he could remember was pain. Suffering. Pure torment. 

But the last thing he wanted was for her to think he wasn’t listening. Or to retreat into the same shell that he often made for himself. So, just as her expression shifted to uncertainty, Vergil said, “I have the opposite problem, it seems.”

“You… don’t miss it?”

He paused, pondering before he spoke again. “I don’t know,” He said finally. “I…”

“It’s okay,” She said. “If you don’t…”

“I spent a very long time alone.”

A moment of silence passed between them, and he swore he saw a hint of understanding in her eyes. “By choice?” She said. 

What kind of question was that? How could she have possibly guessed what was going on in his head? Or maybe she was just shooting in the dark, trying to understand him as much as he seemingly wanted to understand her. And what good would it do to ignore such a question? 

“No,” He said. “But I have made plenty of mistakes.”

“Not enough to deserve something like that.”

You don’t know me was his first thought, but it died before reaching his lips. A part of him felt that she was irrevocably wrong. He did deserve those years of torment. He’d thrown himself into hell with reckless abandon. He’d left behind a son without considering that one might even have existed. Then the Qliphoth… and everything in between. 

But another part of him wanted to believe that she was right. He wanted to hold onto that hope that he was better than the sum of his failures. That he didn’t deserve the pain which so many others thought he did. 

But it was difficult… more so than he thought it should have been.

“Maybe,” Roxy said slowly. “We could help each other.”

“What?”

She flinched before Vergil realized how hostile that sounded. “I’m not suggesting anything crazy,” She said before muttering a “lord knows I’m not ready for that.” But before Vergil could ask what she meant, she held her hand out. “I mean with simple, everyday things. Like handshakes.”

Vergil was seconds from refuting her, until he realized the only hand he’d shaken recently was… no one’s. Not Morrison after Dante had introduced them. Not Kyrie or Nico or anyone else he’d met over the last six months. Not even hers (on purpose, anyway). He’d avoided it without thinking, relying on his brusque personality to keep people away. He never imagined this hesitation was the real reason why. 

“One thing at a time,” She said as her smile finally returned. 

Slowly, he took her hand with a nod. “One thing at a time.” 

Ko-fi – Master List – AO3

[dominicvail]

Hey! Random question for you: How do you decide if/how you're gonna crop the gifs you make when putting together a set? I struggle so bad with the aesthetic elements of building a set it ends up discouraging me from finishing them most of the time.

I get the feeling anon, i struggle a lot with certain types of sets Still, which affects what i end up making A Lot. And i’ve only been making gifs for lol, 6 years, yikes? I tend to stick to what i Have learnt these days. But, anyway. 

I mostly think that the aesthetics of what you’re giffing depend heavily on how you should decide to crop it to fit on here.

I don’t know what kind of sets you make? Because I make like, gifs of scenes  very differently to something i make just for the sake of it being pretty.  

I personally have preferences for what dimensions i think look best for certain types of gif sets on tumblr, i do not Usually ( i make exceptions) stray from these, and the dimensions have an effect on your cropping.

Say like, [This] set, the dimensions i used were 268x180 which is my preferred choice for either 6 gif set or an 8 gif set formatted like this and if i don’t use those dimensions, it’s because i had a good reason not to.

Typically, face close ups in sets like this look Far better than like, a shot in the first gif of that set with half of granger’s body in the shot. This isn’t because head shots look better in gifs, it’s because head shots remove a Lot of the background which is what, 9 times out of 10, is what is messing up the aesthetic of a gifset. Also, an aside, try not to have dialogue cover anybody’s face, sometimes with already close up shots it’s impossible to avoid, but if your text is obscuring somebody’s face, you’ve cropped too much off. 

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Backgrounds are often messy, busy, and eye drawing. If you’re making edits just for the sake of being pretty, negative space is your best friend, i really can’t emphasis that enough. I think people think it’s what’s In your gif that will make an aesthetic set look pretty, but i personally think it’s in how you use what it Not there. 

'what is not there’ also applies to shadows on negative space backgrounds, you Really need it to look as plain as possible, imo, take this gif for example;

Without edits, the plain wall behind the height chart was heavily shadowed, i used brightening techniques to remove the harshest shadows and also cropped it so the gif was thinner b/c the shadows were darkest at the far corners of the gif. It’s not a major edit, but the effect it had on the set it was in was Massive. It went from ruining the look of what was a ten gif set to fitting in perfectly and it was such a small, simple thing to edit. 

Also, for examples of how different a seemingly plain background shot can look with and without editing, This;

and

(the over exaggerated white was for Aesthetic reasons, i wanted it to look weirdly coloured, the bg was empty anyway) but this same shot looks totally different when i remove the small lines from the elevator he’s in that i left there in the top gif. His malevolence levels shoot through the roof. Just simple things like that can entirely alter the look of something. 

I don’t have an example of this next technique with that specific G shot, But with some scenes like the above it would be possible to crop it in as close as the second gif has been, then increase the canvas size again and just paint on the same bg colour as the bg behind him and you’d have a panoramic gif with an entirely negative space bg without it even looking like you’ve even edited it.

i did that here, kinda:

I cropped the bottom of the gif off because originally there was a Lot more mountain on it, and added to the canvas at the top of the gif, and just coloured the blank canvas the same colour as the rest of the sky and presto! i have a Ton of more negative space and it took me like a minute. You can use the same technique for width as well as height, this was just the first gif i’d found. 

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anyway i went on a tangent, but dimensions;

for 2 gifs in a set, if they’re face close ups i’ll for them side by side and like, rectangle, you can do them square but i just think it looks better if they’re higher than they are wide, i don’t always use the same dimensions for the height of these types of sets, just what i think looks best for the scene.

if it’s more of a view than a close up for 2 gifs, i’ll do one gif on top of the other, Usually if i do it like this it’s specifically to showcase a view, so i probably won’t crop the scene at all for this type, and just resize for tumblr, but if i do it will be to crop out a network logo but i’ll leave the gifs as large as i can do so while taking it off. If possible i will paint over a logo, so if the logo is over a bit of screen that’s just one plain colour it’s easy to obscure, but otherwise its a crop. If i ever leave a logo on, it’s b/c i had no choice because i Hate leaving logos on. 

for sets of 4, like, dialogue scene gifs e.g. this one [here] the traditional square 268x286 is best, tbh. However, for that set there, not sure if this counts as cropping but it is aesthetic, in the show the shots were eric, nell, nell, eric. Because, in that format, doing it that way would have had them looking Away from each other in the bottom two gifs, i switched them around in the set and it looked So much better. When possible, always have people physically speaking to each other  in gifs actively face each other. Sometimes this involves flipping the whole gif which i Try not to do because our brains are trained to look at these people through a backward lens, so when you flip it over we think it looks weird because very few people Actually have perfectly symmetrical faces so like, they look Wrong to us. But looking a little wrong normally looks less weird than having people insets face the totally wrong direction. 

for 10 gifs, displayed 2 by 2, i will not make them as high, 10 gifs of 268x180 is too long, it looks weird, and even shaving 10px off each gif makes it look more aesthetically pleasing. 

for gifs displayed one on top of the other with text over, where you have a lot of them, they look better thin, i usually use somewhere between 230-245px for each gif’s height. Like this one. 

if you’re making Huge gifs like... 540x440px for Aesthetic reasons, that Can work really well but is Exceptionally difficult imo and i really can’t offer any advice or tricks because i am hopeless at it. 

On of my other tricks of the trade is, when i see a scene i think will make great gifs in the caps i’ve taken for something, i will save the caps. Like, that G moment of him looking into the camera, i took caps of the scene for a specific reason, deleted the rest of them when done, but saved those ones away. Scenes with minimal background that Also contain a look into the camera are Rare, exceptionally good looking on edits, and u will never remember where they are in the show if u delete them lol. So if you find shots you love, keep the caps! reuse them! to this day, i’m the one one to ever call myself out over excessive reuse of the same shots over and over. 

Also, zig zags and diagonals are more attractive visually. like, this is from my main but i can’t fine one off this blog atm, but [this] You see how i’ve made this so your eyes flow in a seamless diagonal downwards? You eyes don’t flit back and forth in 3 different directions, it has a flow to it. The first shot on that set isn’t actually like that in the show, her face was on the right side of the screen, i cropped off everything on the left, added to the canvas on the right and used the wall she was standing next to to make it less obvious i cropped it so dramatically to achieve that. You can only really tell if you’re looking for it in that one. But like, if you can crop something so the gifset has a decent flow to it, so your eyes slide over it rather than attempt to look in 6 directions in jerky moments, it helps a lot. I did the same thing with this one, [here] every gif on that is cropped into a different angle as it was on the show. 

This works specially well when you have a lot of gifs in your sets, which is where the zig zag thing comes into it, like, those 2 i linked two didn’t last long enough to zig back, but if i’d done another 2 gifs on there, i’d have put it back so your eyes slid back to the left side again. Can’t find an example rn, it’s Hard to do the more gifs you have, but pull it off and it looks really good. 

however, if you Can make each gif centered perfectly it looks Really cool but it’s really hard to do b/c show content just.. isn’t great sometimes. But it looks so cool. 

tldr: Negative space is Super Important!!! backgrounds can be super eye grabbing and you don’t want that, choose your dimensions well, make sure you make peoples eyes flow across your work rather than dart. 

idk, i hope this made sense, but making things look aesthetically pleasing is Really hard and takes a lot of work, it just looks like it should be easy, it’s not you finding something hard that other people seem to find super easy, it’s not easy, it involves a lot of tricks and editing that you Have to obscure because if it’s too obvious it doesn’t look attractive. A lot of work goes in, if i had my way i’d make mostly aesthetically pleasing edits but it’s too hard and i don’t have that kind of time. I hope this helped in some way? 

[bowan-deflorentine]

Extremely detailed character sheet template

Character’s full name: Bowan deFlorentine

Reason or meaning of name: OOC I like gender-neutral or masc-leaning names for all characters, and thought it sounded cool at the time! I just took “Bowen” and added an “a” to make it slightly more feminine, visually.

Character’s nickname: “Bo”

Reason for nickname: It’s short and cute!

Birth date: January 23rd (the day she hit lvl 10 in-game :P I use that for all my Wow RP characters)

Physical appearance

Age: 37

How old do they appear: About the same

Weight: 145lb / 65kg, an average healthy weight if on the lighter side

Height: 5′11″ / 180cm, taller than average for cis women

Body build: Angular, long-legged, lean

Shape of face: Oval-shaped, with sharp cheekbones and a strong jawline and strong chin

Eye color: Dark brown

Glasses or contacts: neither

Skin tone: Medium brown

Distinguishing marks: Broken nose, blind & scarred right eye

Predominant features: Probably the nasty dead eye

Hair color: Black

Type of hair: Thick and wavy

Hairstyle: Wears it long and down, or in a low ponytail tied with a ribbon

Voice: Low & rich with a heavy Gilnean lowborn accent

Overall attractiveness: Super subjective, but she’s got that handsome aging roughed-up scoundrel sailor look if you’re into that  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  

Physical disabilities: Blind on her right side

Usual fashion of dress: Heavy leather or canvas coats, high collars, heeled, thigh-high leather boots, wide-brimmed hats with feathers in the band, loose long-sleeved blouses tucked into a high waistline, fencer's gloves

Favorite outfit: TBH probably her old Cavalier uniform and coat; a dark- and steel-blue laced-up vest, leather, with gold and brown trimmings and a wide-brimmed hat with a white feather in it. Single blue leather pauldron with the gold Cavalier star on it

Jewelry or accessories: Very little, usually one or two small hoop earrings. A golden wedding ring on a chain necklace under her shirt. No rings or bracelets

Personality

Good personality traits: Motherly, caring, charming, helpful, protective, curious

Bad personality traits: Moody, impulsive, stubborn, reckless, anxious, violent

Mood character is most often in: Current day, bitter and melancholic

Sense of humor: Inside jokes, straight-faced funny comments, good-natured teasing.

Character’s greatest joy in life: Her seven-year-old son, Rory.

Character’s greatest fear: Losing either Rory or Jeán, her husband.

Why?: Because she loves them, and they’re the only family she has left in the entire world, and she’s lost/ given up everything else in her life to protect them and to make a life for her family.

What single event would most throw this character’s life into complete turmoil?: She’s numb to everything that’s not extreme at this point, so again, losing either Rory or Jeán

Character is most at ease when: When her family is not only happy but safe, as are her close friends, and she’s at home somewhere warm and dry and comfortable and there's no war going on

Most ill at ease when: Someone she loves is missing, or hurt, or in great danger, or when she doesn't know where she is / is lost

Enraged when: Something threatens the safety of her loved ones or children

Depressed or sad when: When she’s isolated away from people she loves.

Priorities: She’s been forced into survival mode lately, so #1 is her family’s and her own safety. Beyond that, her son’s happiness, her husband’s happiness, her friends’ happiness, and then protecting others. She's happy when others are happy.

Life philosophy: There’s some good left in the world, and it’s worth fighting for. But family always comes first.

If granted one wish, it would be: To bring Timira Redsummer back

Why?: She was her closest friend and now she’s dead, and she’s tired of losing people and having no control over all the loss in her life.

Character’s soft spot: Children, and music

Is this soft spot obvious to others?: OH absolutely, she’s SUCH a mom. Her rough grimdark rogue sailor deal just vanishes around kids and she’s making funny faces and listening very intently to their babytalk stories and crouching all the way down so they can take her hand and lead her around to show her interesting things, etc. The usual supercute little kid stuff. She loves children and is very good with them.

Greatest strength: Never ever giving up when it comes to protecting others, accomplishing her goals at any means necessary, even at the cost of her own safety or health (which crosses very quickly into one of her greatest weaknesses)

Greatest vulnerability or weakness: She can be on the self-destructive side, and is easily goaded into fights against her better judgement because she can just not back down from a threat or a challenge.

Biggest regret: Leaving Teldrassil during the War of Thorns before the attack, when it was just citizens and adventurers and soldiers helping to evacuate / fortify / bring supplies to the city, as they were expecting a siege. She left to go get her ship in Stormwind and bring it as a back-up to get escaping citizens out in case they needed to evacuate. She sailed back to a completely burning tree.

Minor regret: Not having a wedding with Jeán. They had been together for a few years and had talked about getting married, but were too busy with work. They got hastily married on paper before she left for Kul Tiras.

Biggest accomplishment: Founding the Stormwind Cavaliers with Jeán, and the few years she spent as the captain for them. They did a lot of good work for the city and for the people, especially in the surrounding territories like Elwynn, Westfall, and Duskwood. 

Minor accomplishment: She can make the meanest cup of Gilnean black lavender tea

Past failures they would be embarrassed to have people know about: Actively sheltering a rogue Uncrowned agent and trying to cover up all the VERY obvious murders they kept committing under her watch while working for the city guard, oops   ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Why?: Because at the time, they were very close friends and she didn’t have the guts to make the tough calls.

Character’s darkest secret: As of now in the storyline, currently, hunting and sinking Horde ships out of revenge for Teldrassil. She hasn’t told a soul and uses an alias with the crew she works with.

Does anyone else know?: Not yet! 

Goals

Drives and motivations: She wants vengeance for all the lives lost in Teldrassil, but the root of it comes from wanting to protect her family and friends and loved ones. Second only to those feelings is her desire for freedom, and sees sailing and going rogue as an opportunity to kill three birds with one stone.

Immediate goals: Sink Horde ships.

Long term goals: Building a better world for her son and her friends’ children.

How the character plans to accomplish these goals: Gathering a crew of other disgruntled Alliance soldiers and hunting down as many Horde ships and soldiers as they can before they get caught and probably executed.

How other characters will be affected:  😬 Well Jeán was a pirate and gave up everything to live his life with Bowan, and to find she’s been doing basically piracy behind his back would be a big oof. Plus before it all she was a very proud soldier of the Alliance and strove to better herself and to be a good and kind person, so it would probably be very disturbing news to others. Then again, that’s only if they find out.

Past

Hometown: Keel Harbor, Gilneas. 

Type of childhood: Strict-ish. Father was a sailor, mother was a wealthy merchant’s adopted daughter. Her father tried to teach her freedom and passion, her mother tried to teach her obedience and to be ladylike. Mother ultimately won and she was more or less prepared for marriage into her teen years until she ran away to escape the pressure.

Pets: A hound dog named Jager.

First memory: Meeting her maternal grandmother for the first- and last time. She was a harvest witch and disappeared to escape witch hunts. 

Most important childhood memory: Sailing with her father outside the harbor for the first time. It was a dangerous trip and they nearly capsized, but she loved every second of it. 

Why: While Bowan and her mother Louise loved eachother, they weren’t as close as she and her father, Bayne. Her father always encouraged her to be herself and to blaze her own path, and her mother told her that she would never find a husband acting like that. Really experiencing sailing and the sea made her realize that that was quite all right, because if being a good wife meant giving up exciting things like sailing then the choice was obvious for her. 

Childhood hero: Genn Greymane

Dream job: Professional bard! She *almost* achieved that after running away from home in Gilneas but never could quite make it happen.

Education: Homeschooling and a few years of attending a little bitty schoolhouse in the countryside. 

Religion: The lowkey Light worship Gilneas practiced, and some of the Old Ways.

Finances: Not poor, but her father had to work very hard to support them and tried not to let it show. 

Present

Current location: Kul Tiras

Currently living with: No one she’s close to, a crew of other soldiers unhappy with the way the war with the Horde was handled.

Pets: Ardis, her beautiful black mare, is stabled in Stormwind.

Religion: Same as her childhood, a bit of Old Ways and a bit of Light.

Occupation: Unofficially ex-Alliance soldier and guard, pirate

Finances: Actually doing pretty well from herself considering all the ships she’s robbed! :D 

Family

Mother: Louise Ollington

Relationship with her: Strained, but they were family at the end of the day. She was born into a family of harvest witches who were culled by some backwoods witch hunts. She was dropped off in Gilneas city and adopted by wealthy bookkeeping nobles. The entire experience still left her very unhappy and traumatized, so she clung very tightly to her new life and tried to make sure her daughter would be safe and not face the same challenges as she did when she went against tradition. 

Father: Bayne Arrow

Relationship with him: Very close. A sailor from Tanaris, he tried to make as comfortable of a life for Louise but could never really live up to her expectations. They still loved each other very much, and he adored his daughter and tried to instill in her the same love of adventure and the sea as his family had. Ultimately his teachings won over, but it cost the family a lot.

Siblings: None.

Relationship with them: n/a

Spouse: Jeán deFlorentine.

Relationship with them: Jeán were best friends long before the relationship became romantic. They’re perfect for eachother, both cocky swaggering rogues who love duel banter and sailing and getting into trouble. They had all sorts of wild adventures and hit rock bottom and bounced back together, and they bonded hard and fast. They never really bothered with marriage before because they didn’t feel like their relationship needed it, but they got married on paper before Bowan left for the war in Kul Tiras just so they didn’t leave any regrets in case she didn’t come back.

Children: Rory, her son. 

Relationship with them: He’s a bastard, but she doesn’t like to talk about it or his father. She loves him more than anything and is doing her best to raise him to be a good person. He’s a very gentle and sweet boy.  

Other important family members: None.

Favorites

Color: Dark grey-teal, the color of the sea during a storm. 

Least favorite color: Pink, only because it’s just very much not her color. 

Music: Fiddle and hurdy-gurdy.

Food: Pandaren cuisine, especially dumplings and spring rolls.

Literature: Romance, and inspiring heroic adventure novels. 

Form of entertainment: Music! She loves to sing and play her own instruments or listen to others perform. 

Mode of transportation: Her ship, a former Stormwind sloop with black sails. 

Most prized possession: Her Cavalier rapier, a gift from Jeán when the unit was founded. 

Habits

Hobbies: She used to practice minor medicinal alchemy when she was young. She likes to read and write for fun too, and riding her horse on the trails around Stormwind city when she still lived there.

Plays a musical instrument?: Yes! Mandolin and guitar. She’s a little rusty but she’s talented. 

Plays a sport?: Fencing! 

How they would spend a rainy day: Brewing tea and reading by the fireplace, either alone or to her son. OR sailing.

Smokes: Yes, occasionally.

Drinks: Too much these days, before also occasionally. 

Other drugs: None

What do they do too much of?: OVERTHINK

What do they do too little of?: Taking a goddamn breath and thinking things through before jumping into dangerous situations.

Extremely skilled at: Sailing. 

Extremely unskilled at: Cooking.

Nervous tics: Bouncing knee, cracking knuckles, drumming fingers 

Usual body posture: Confident but closed-off. 

Mannerisms: Lively even in poor moods, lots of expressive gestures and hand motions

Peculiarities: She seems fidgety and checks over her shoulder too much until she gets her back to a wall. She always goes for the wall seat and likes to face the door. 

Traits

Optimist or pessimist?: Tries to be an optimist but her natural state is pessimist. It’s just been beat out of her.

Introvert or extrovert?: Ambivert, she’s a social butterfly in good moods but gets moody fast and retreats to be alone often. 

Daredevil or cautious?: Some sort of unstable mix of both, anxious a lot and overthinks danger but then does stupid recklessly brave things like, for example, challenge old and terrifying pirate captains to duels she has ZERO hope of winnings (this has happened like three times now??)

Logical or emotional?: Emotional. She’s not controlled by her emotions but they are powerful. Listening to her heart and her gut keeps her alive.

Disorderly and messy or methodical and neat?: Surprisingly organized and neat. When she had her own desk at the Cavalier office it was fancy and extremely well-kept. 

Prefers working or relaxing?: Prefers working. She’s a bit of a workaholic, and doesn’t like to sit still for too long.

Confident or unsure of themself: Fairly confident these days.

Animal lover?: Yes, but not to the point to keep pets.

Self-perception

How they feel about themself: Her confidence isn’t low, but currently she’s felt helpless about her life and her path and is doing whatever she can to feel like she has some control. She knows some of the things she’s doing is wrong but feels like she has to make the hard calls for once and do the dirty work no one else is willing to do. 

One word the character would use to describe self: Ambitious.

What does the character consider their best personality trait?: Her dedication to her family. 

What does the character consider their worst personality trait?: Her inability to let go of the past. 

What does the character consider their best physical characteristic?: She loves her hair and takes pride in keeping it long and brushed and clean.

What does the character consider his/her worst physical characteristic?: Her broken nose that was never set right and healed crooked, and now her scarred eye. She thinks it’s ugly and will frighten children. 

How does the character think others perceive him/her: Hopefully, as someone they can trust and will be there for them when they need her, always.

What would the character most like to change about themself: Her paranoia and her anxiety. She’s been horribly wounded by the past and wants so badly to heal from it but she just can’t find the right way to do it yet. 

Relationships with others

Opinion of other people in general: Bowan has a low opinion of people as a whole, and views people in general as something to defend herself against, but believes in the good of individuals. 

Does the character hide their true opinions and emotions from others?: Sometimes. She’s the sort to hide her minor feelings from others to save their own feelings, and isn’t above lying to loved ones if she thinks it will protect them.

Person character most hates: Sylvanas Windrunner (now that Deathbreathe is dead). She wants her dead SO BAD.

Best friend(s): Timira Redsummer, Jeán deFlorentine, Watcher and Seeker, Reiko Al-Tariq.

Love interest(s): Jeán deFlorentine

Person character goes to for advice: Timira

Person character feels responsible for or takes care of: Watcher and Seeker, the Twins. They used to be in a spy unit together but they’re a lot younger than she is and just wants them to be safe. All of the Cavaliers, too, present and former.

Person character feels shy or awkward around: No one, she’s over those feelings.

Person character openly admires: Lorna Crowley

Person character secretly admires: Princess Tess Greymane (secret due to her work for the Uncrowned).

Most important person in character’s life before story starts: Her father

After story starts: Rory, her son

found here

(( Okay I know this is a monster so I won’t tag anyone but please feel free to fill this out, it’s so fun and makes you really think about the details!! ))

[pokemagines]

JAPAN TRIP 2k19 with Mod Elesa (1/?)

hey n’yall it’s mod elesa, lemme tell u bout my japan trip! u can find some of the photos of these events on my instagram @atel2er! i didn’t want to flood this post with pictures hehe ,,

GENERAL STUFF

went for school, study abroad trip to study visualization and simulation of “serious games” that businesses buy and use (but i dont feel like talking abt it since this is the FUN POST

may 10-26

the flight was 11 hours, p easy, i didn’t know anybody going into the trip because i didn’t go to any of the meetings HAHhaHEHA

whatever. everyone on the trip initially came off as if they had yellow fever and i was like ... i’m really not trying to interact with FETISHIZERS

turns out they were all really cool! only this one kid was a real weeaboo who was greasy and tall and a neckbeard who kept talking about being “culturally insensitive” and speaking japanese constantly to the teacher and the TA like ... ok patrick we get it you flex

i stayed in a hotel in shinjuku! everything is so small and i used the bidets for the first time and WOO chile that shit feels FUNKY on your asshole

i visited shinjuku major (kabukicho aka red light district, couple other places!), ikebukuro (THE MEGA POKEMON CENTER), mt fuji, fuji q highland, akihabara, hamamatsucho (area where tokyo tower is), HARAJUKU, and the emperor’s palace! i’m probably forgetting some places since we went to a lot of temples and shrines that were cool ...

the public transportation in japan is scarily on time.. like, by the second. they apologize if they’re one minute early and will wait until the scheduled time before they move omg

the subway stations have their own jingles! they kind of act as an alarm system because a lot of people sleep on the subway (which is why people generally don’t talk on it) and will recognize the jingle for their stop!

the crowded hours on the subway are noon and 6-8pm... like, its insane. it’s actually packed like sardines in there. 

EVERYONE THERE IS SO SHORT.... i was taller than a lot of the grown men there (i’m 5′4″ or 162 cm for reference) and most people were around 5 feet tall... the only people taller than me were some kids around my age and this gaggle of japanese schoolgirls who were like 5′7+ and i was like. sis you’re 13, why are you that tall

pokemon is EXTREMELY prevalent in japan wherever you go. there’s pikachu stickers on taxis, pikachu is on ads on the subway and at the AIRPORT, pokemon go is widely played by a lot of people and so many of the people in my group played it so i got conned into playing again. i leveled up 5 times within 3 days and honestly? i’m god

anime is very normal there... i know that sounds all “weeby” but a lot of normal shops had animated mascots and there were ads for anime all over the place. 

literally gacha machines everywhere i spent a lot of coins on gacha machines plz kill me

the homies in japan loooove crepes. they sold so many crepes. everywhere. just crepes. also spaghetti carbonara! and corndogs HAHAHA

the food there is so cheap but SOOO GOOD. sushi isn’t all that expensive at all?? like a set of 16 pieces is 1080Y... meanwhile that cost in america is like. $6000 HAHAHAHAH. 

very humid? at all times? also the RAIN is debilitating if u make one wrong step you will slip and die (like i did! i stepped on a tile and fucking fell into a puddle! i have bruises still!)

SHINJUKU (detective pikachu day, may 10)

i went to go see detective pikachu on its release day in shinjuku! before that, i went to a couple sega buildings--

the sega buildings are 4 story buildings FILLED with claw machines holding stuffed animals, figurines, candy, all kinds of stuff. when i went, there was a lot of detective pikachu-related stuff. i saw this detective pikachu hat in one of the machines and spent 1000Y (about $10) or 10 attempts at the claw machine ... i still can’t believe i got it ... nobody was there to see it besides me and i YELLED when it dropped 

i wore the hat that entire day around shinjuku because i honestly felt like god. people would point at me and go like “ah! meitantei pikachu!” and smile at me. i was a celebrity. i wore the hat into the movie theatre, i wore it through the entire movie, and when i was walking out, someone tapped on my shoulder and asked for my picture. she was all nervous about her english and was like “i love your hat. may i take a picture?” and i was like omG YES U CAN... sweet bab... so that’s the first photo of me that ended up on some random person’s phone

we waited around for the mass of people to exit the theatre and then left, and we ran into her again! she asked me more questions about the hat: “did you make it?” “no, i got it in a claw machine in the sega building.” she looked dumbfounded. “in shinjuku?” “yes.” “in the sega building? over there?” “yeees.” “in a claw machine?!” “yes!” “ah! i thought you made it! it’s so cute! i’m going to get one for myself.” “lol ok have fun”

i learned that its customary to stay until the very end of the credits before leaving a movie out of respect for the people who made it! meanwhile in america we walk out when the credits roll FHDSKFJS OOPIES

SHINJUKU (visit #2)

we went in the night time to go see the red light district aka kabuki-cho because thats where a lot of the bars are

i don’t drink so i didn’t join the people who went to the bars to get CRUNK, so i dragged two other guys with me and we walked around the red light district

I SAW SO MANY HOST CLUBS. so many maid cafes. so many bars. i saw a love hotel too... i was like... i wanna go inside... Blease... and my friends were like “you’re so weird KHEDJFSk” and im like “I WAS GOOGLING THESE IN CLASS TODAY, I DIDN’T THINK THEY WERE REAL”

my friend sean (he’s from taipei, cool guy, could read a lot of the kanji so we used him to navigate the subway HAHA) was walking with me that night and we saw this hole in the wall that had stairs going down to a peep show ... homegirl had her whole ass out on the sign... tiddies covered with caution tape ... i said MAAM?

one of the signs in kabuki-cho had a woman doing straight up ahegao with (what i’m pretty sure was) nut on her face. it was a small sign and i was the only one who saw it. i lost my shit. it was the funniest thing ever

kabuki-cho is really really dirty... like people straight up litter all the time bc there’s no trashcans around? so people throw their shit on the ground? and everyone steps on it... very seedy area, very gross, but i was absolutely enthralled with the nightlife and the blatant sexual vibes half the places had!

some dude stopped me and started speaking english saying “do you like karaoke? you should come drink with me for two hours, it’s a great price if you drink a lot” and i was like “no... i have to go home” and he’s like “come onnnn it’s a good price” and i was like. i’m not very assertive with men so i started panicking and my friend sean (A GOD AMONG MEN) started speaking chinese to him and he backed off ... i love you sean you’re so fucking COOL

IKEBUKURO (pokemon mega center)

so there’s this huge mall. i forgot the name, but it’s got like a lot of floors and they’re MASSIVE

on the 2rd floor is the MEGA POKEMON CENTER!!! i was so HYPED to go in there!!! it was teeming with people but there was just... so much stuff. all kinds of merch. they had plushies of the original 151, a shitton of really cool tshirts, a whole block for detective pikachu-themed merch (pins, socks, canvas bags, shirts, patches, hats, etc), and sooo much more. there’s a giant charizard statue when you walk in, as well as a statue of a pokestop HAHA. i was so excited and i wanted to buy so many things when i was in there bc they had stuff for all the legendaries (LATIOS AND LATIAS STUFF WERE THERE I WAS SO HAPPY)!!! literally anything you can think of, they had in some kind of pokemon print. including underwear. yeah i said it. here’s a really good article that showcases some of the stuff they sold there!

for reference, 100 yen is about 1 usd. a lot of things there were 480 yen ($4.80) or 3000Y ($30) and it was just... beautiful. 

when i was there, yen didn’t feel like it had monetary value since it’s not the currency i’m used to, so i sPENT WAY TOO MUCH AHFJKDFD

they had themed cash registers with each of the starters... i cried :’)

i actually went there a second time but it was packed for a different reason. some idol group was performing on the ground floor and a shitton of girls were screaming fanchants while their jpop boys danced LOLLL. now i know how people see kpop stans ...

AKIHABARA (i went like 8 times)

this is what i like to call my birthplace

we went to the maid cafe. of course we fucking did. i got a dreamland passport and some cat ears. THE MAIDS ALL LOVED HATSUNE MIKU

SPEAKING OF HATSUNE MIKU AKA MY GODDESS, she was pretty popular in akihabara! she was also on some posters in the subway stations (across tokyo, not just in akihabara) and was apparently having some magical mirai concert???

there’s this giant tower called radio kaikan thats right outside the akihabara station that’s filled with all sorts of anime shit. i spent so much money in there. Good God. there was a furret plush for 5400Y and i was so STINGY that day i shouldve BOUGHT IT....  it was a longboi and i was like... sis!!!!

remember how i said my brain didn’t register that yen had monetary value? yeah i spent hundreds of dollars here no cap ...

i went to a kaguya-sama cafe as well on another day bc my friend joe (one of the figureine-collecting weebs) wanted to go and get a chika coaster

i went into a three floor sex shop and gave no fucks, the bottom floor was filled with bdsm shit and LEATHER SCHOOLGIRL OUTFITS and it was WILD. and these two old men were just casually browsing this shit like we weren’t both looking at whips and buttplugs in Public you know

i wasn’t fazed by a lot of the stuff there bc i read Funky fanfiction but the people i went in there with were major uncomfy ... i was like PRUDES HAJKFDAHDS i almost bought something don’t tell anybody

OKAY SO. there’s this place called super potato that has a floor dedicated to old games and consoles. they had so many gameboy advances and gamecubes and old consoles (famicom, dreamcast etc) for CHEAP. they had a gameboy color for 4900Y and a gamecube for 5600Y. a bitch almost cried. they had every old pokemon game under the sun (the original red, blue, yellow, gold and silver) and i ,,, they were 480Y. they were 480Y. that’s five fucking dollars. do you know how much collectors pay for that shit on ebay? HUNDREDS. i could’ve mass bought those and sold them and made so much cash but I DIDN’T.

that store had an original unopened copy of super smash bros melee and pokemon colosseum and i was like... wait if i cop a gamecube i could play pokemon collosseum like a true g... ((i didn’t cop))

but anyways there were a lot of games that didn’t make it to america (including mother 3! which my friend connor bought! as well as the console to play it!) and just... so many old things i grew up with ... 

whenever i walked out of the super potato we’d end up in an alley where all the girls who work at cafes were advertising their stuff

i always took the flyers from the girls bc they spoke their cute english to me and i was like... i’d die for you, yknow that?

ALL KINDS OF CAFES. regular maid cafe, pirate cafe, ninja cafe (you could do that thing where you karate chop a wooden block in half), sailor cafe (as in actual ship captains), shrine maiden cafe, vampire cafe, prince cafe (for the ladies ;3), catgirl cafe, bunny girl cafe... i took all of the goddamn flYERS THEY WERE ALL SO CUTE :( i wanted to go so bad...

FUJI Q HIGHLAND (also known as the time i flipped my shit and went on rollercoasters)

when i found out about fuji-q, i told my group that we HAD to go. i didn’t want to go to an onsen. i wanted to go to fuji-q. i had to. i love rollercoasters, it’s my passion, my driving fORCE IN LIFE

so fuji-q is home to 4 record-breaking rollercoasters! u got fast boi aka jojo reference do-dodonpa; EXTREME TALL BOI fujiyama; superior to x2 at six flags eejanaika; and the steepest rollercoaster in the world TAKABISHA ... i got to ride fujiyama, eejanaika, and takabisha! the scariest one was probably fujiyama despite it being very cut and dry up for... ever ... 79 meters ... oh god ... i lost my shit on the way down ladies let me TELL YOU

FUJIYAMA ALSO HAS A VIEW OF MT FUJI AND I WAS LIK E”YO GUYS ITS MT FUJI” and then we went down and i screamed

please watch the pov videos for these rides they’re very good but they don’t convey the absurd amount of excitement i had going on these rides

anyways the fuji-q park was having a sword art online collaboration when i visited, so they played SAO music and had cardboard cutouts for them across the park... kirito’s ride was fujiyama (aka the king of them all). i forgot the other ones but those alicization kiddos were there but ion care about ALICE OR EUGEO

the first ride i went on was eejanaika which is a 4d rollercoaster, pretty epic, total Baby Ride though

i went on as a single rider so i ended up getting put in this group with these college kids! the guy i was sitting next to spoke to me in english and asked basic questions: “where are you from?”, “is this [ride] easy for you?”, “how old are you?”, basic stuff. he asked why i was in japan and i told him i was studying at waseda university, and he immediately perked up and went “I GO TO WASEDA!!! WASEDA YEAH!!!” and fist bumped me ... his friends were giggling and kept asking him to ask me questions and it was just. so wholesome.

when we were abt to get on the ride he looks at me and says “my name is soichiro. call me so-chan ok??” and i was like... “so-chan” and his friENDS ALL STARTED GIGGLIGN AND I WAS LIKE U///W///U

while we were going up on the ride, he kept yelling “JESUS FUCK YOU JESUS CHRIST” and my favorite: “JESUS CHRIST WHAT THE FUCK YOU” because apparently fuck cannot be standalone! “what the fuck you” is my new fave insult (i miss you so-chan)

afterwards he kept coughing and was like. dead. his soul left his body. so i asked in him japanese like,,, “daijobu ka?” and he was like “nai.” and i just laughed at him bc BA B Y SO-CHAN CANT HANDLE SOME SPINS 

i bought a corndog at fuji-q at this place called arirang hotdog which is a korean style hotdog place??? BRUH that shit is so good but i shat myself for a good minute afterwards ... damn i want those corndogs

sadly i did not get to go on do-dodonpa because nobody wanted to ride with me and i didn’t want to go by myself >:/// still mad abt that bc that was the FAST BOI ...

also. takabisha. the guiness world record with the 121 degree drop. not even scary. BUT they do hang you there for like 3 seconds before making you go down and i was like “YALL FUCKIN WITH ME” really loud when they hung us there ... PLS watch a pov video you’ll see what i mean ...

HARAJUKU (i totally forgot abt this place OH lord)

i bought ... clothes here ...

they have all those clothes with the random english words on them so OF COURSE i had to buy one AS WELL AS a hat to match!

i also bought one of those ear hats where u press the paws and the ears move ... bts inspired that one

so many people in harajuku absolutely DECKED OUT in fashion. what a bunch of legends.

apparently wearing shirts that say “babygirl” are popular here i have no clue why ,,,, also im pretty sure i remember seeing a shirt that said “call me daddy” and i’m like. Ok Japan

half the shit in english made ZERO SENSE or was SPELLED WRONG and that was common all across japan, not just on harajuku fashion pieces LMAOOOO

deadass i went to a couple businesses (fuji xerox, nissan factory, etc) and they had spelling errors all over the place... nissan really had a placard that said “Prease do not touch” AND I CACKLED hfDSKLJF ilove u nissan

[thenamedragon]

An astronaut beaver

TW: allusions to and mentions of sex

"This is... finished? Partly finished?" I didn't want to assume that the piece was incomplete just because pencil lines showed. I let pencil lines show sometimes. It just seemed like it wasn't quite done.

"Yeah, no, that's been like that for over a year now."

"Oh. Are they planning to finish it?"

"No. Well, I doubt it. They said they were going to paint it, started it, and then left all their supplies here. I haven't heard from them since."

My brain went in several directions as I tried to curb my excitement for potentially free art supplies. I guess they could tell, because they asked:

"Why? Do you want to finish it?"

YES.

"Yeah, that'd be cool. Do you know if they had a plan for it?"

"I mean, I don't care how you finish it. Anything you do will be better than what it looks like now."

Flattering.

"Cool! I can send you layouts for ideas. Once I have ideas, I mean."

"You don't have to do that. I'm sure whatever you do will be great."

I could tell they were looking at me out of the corner of my eye, in that way that made me feel like I needed to put another wall up. Instead, I imagined the canvas covered with a starry purple sky and a large astronaut beaver floating to the left. Was it intended to be sexual from the beginning? I still don't know. Or maybe it's more accurate to say I haven't decided yet.

"Ok. I'll probably send you layouts anyway. Just in case."

"Ok, whatever you want." They smiled - I could dig a moat as well - and we went back to their room to pick up where we left off.

---

It was cold on the day we met. For summer, at least. I inspected my pants for stray hairs while I waited for them on the steps outside the bar. We went in together, ordered a couple beers, and walked through the bar to sit in the back. We talked for awhile. Or, they talked, and I mostly listened. I'm used to being the listener - I don't like to fill the air for the sake of filling it. I don't mind silence. Some people do, so they fill it, and I listen.

We got food and one more drink and then walked to their house. We played a game for... I'm not sure how long. I was a little crossed. It was late, though, and for all the talking, I couldn't tell what we wanted from each other. Or what I wanted from them.

I did know I wanted to sleep.

I said as much, and checked the bus schedule. They didn't do anything to stop me. Just gave me a short side hug on the stoop.

I'm not sure I'll see them again? I wondered on a loop on my way home. Or maybe we could be friends? I'm not sure if I care? I'm not sure I'll see them again? Or maybe we could be friends? I'm not sure if I care? I'm not sure if I care?

I slept like a rock.

---

"This is the stuff they left behind," they said, plopping a plastic bag onto the counter. "I'm not sure how much paint is actually there, but I can buy more if you need it."

"Sweet, sounds good. And thank you!" The bag felt pretty light for the amount of paint tubes in it. Still, paint is paint. I set aside the colors I would need, and then checked to see if they were still usable. You could hear dry paint shaking around some of them. How old was this paint? Just a year?

"What do you think?"

"Yeah..." I started. I didn't like feeling like I owe someone something, especially when communication about boundaries is lacking. But I was the one finishing this massive canvas so they didn't have to look at it like this! And for free! Yeah. "I'm going to need more paint."

We went to a hardware store together, a break from me muttering to myself about what order I should paint things in. I was still a little surprised that they were ok with the astronaut beaver. They didn't even blink.

In a moat building effort, I stuck to the far side of the sidewalk from them with my hands in my pockets. I hoped that my body language communicated I don't know how I feel about whatever it is that we're doing, so don't try doing anything cute. I had high expectations for the amount of detail and tone my body could convey, even though I already knew my body wasn't great at communicating. My tight lipped stiff kisses didn't seem to deter much. That was maybe because the rest of my body said other things. For whatever reason, opening my lips to use words seemed out of the question.

I took my hands out of my pockets to air them out briefly before shoving them back in. I couldn't tell if they noticed.

---

I was surprised when I heard from them again after our first... hangout? Date? It didn't matter. We watched their favorite movie, each sitting in our own chairs about five feet apart from each other. Yep, this is classically a friend thing. They asked if I just wanted to sleep over since it was so late already. That'd be nice. Still a friend thing? We laid next to each other, not even touching hands. I was flat on my back. Still a friend thing, I thought. And then, abruptly, not a friend thing. At least, not a friend thing by my understanding. The situationship wordlessly shifted, and I didn't know to where, or why. I kept my lips tight in uncertainty.

---

“Do you mind if I play music in here?” It wasn’t a question of whether or not I would be listening to music, more of a question of how I would be listening to music. Ear buds or speakers.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” 

“Cool.” I had two playlists downloaded, one a little slower and sadder than the other. I started with the other. 

Everything I needed was on the floor in front of me. I had lightly drawn a general layout of things on the canvas, and had a plan written out in my sketchbook. Black layer first. Then purple. Then blue. Then light blue. That would be most of the painting, actually. The rest of it was just the astronaut beaver, and then adding star stuff at the end. 

I sang as I worked, painting almost the entire canvas black. This really was easy work, as long as I followed my plan and adapted as needed. They hovered around for awhile, ducking in and out of the room, asking questions about the process. I didn’t mind any of this. In hindsight, it would have felt weird if they only watched me the whole time, or if they didn’t stop in at all. Somewhere in the middle was nice.

At one point, they stepped closer and hugged me around the waist from behind. I was pleasantly surprised, but tried not to show it.

“Oh. Hi.” It was nice being hugged - I craved that innocent human contact. But I was working now. My hands were covered in paint and several brushes would have needed cleaning. I kept working. They left without a word.

---

“Yeah, it was nice meeting you too, I’ll see you around.” I brought myself back to Earth from my buzzed daydreaming. I was enjoying my own little silence while they talked to a friendly stranger outside the bar. As they talked, I noticed they were having a soft power struggle with each other, mirroring the other’s posture, one upping their service industry horror stories. I laughed to myself and enjoyed my constructed silent space.

“Ready to go?” 

“Yep.” 

We walked back to my apartment, wandered up the stairs, and flopped down on my bed in a cuddle puddle. It wasn’t late, but I was sleepy anyways. We talked about random non consequential nothings. When there was a lull in the conversation, I sighed and filled the silence. 

“Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m not really into sex. I’m asexual.” 

“I kinda figured. At least something, like when you kept saying wait.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner. It’s just, sometimes it’s hard to tell when to tell people, or how to tell people. And it’s more complex than a lot of people realize. It’s not all or nothing. Not for everyone.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Like, asexual just means that someone doesn’t feel sexual attraction. Anything after that, like if people only sometimes feel sexual attraction, or have sex, or masturbate, or have relationships, and why, and with who, or how many people - that’s all different for everyone.”

I let that take up the air space for awhile. They let the silence be.

“Have people like... I don’t know. Do people respond well...?”

“Do you mean have people left because I’m asexual?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. Some have.”

A breath of silence. 

“I um... I kind of have some extra walls up because of it. Like I assume that people are going to leave when I tell them. So it’s easier... or I guess it feels safer to just not let people in that far.” 

“That sucks.”

Thanks?

“Thanks.”

Another breath of silence. 

“But you like making out, and stuff?”

“Yeah. Making out is fun. Most of the time. I’m not really into much else though.”

“Hm.”

I hoped they wouldn’t ask me to clarify. I knew I needed to practice communicating the “much else,” because the “much else” changed from person to person and how comfortable I was. But the “much else” was currently covered in several layers of shame.

“When we hang out... do you hope that I’ll touch you?”

My breath of silence. Will they ask me for specifics?

“Yes.”

They didn’t.

---

“I think it’s done,” I announced, already gathering up brushes to wash them. They wandered in, taking in the canvas from my point of view. I had stopped looking at it - any flaw that I noticed at this point would be a part of it.

“Looks nice.”

“Glad you like it. I’m not the one who has to look at it all the time.” They grinned. 

“You know, I have another, much longer canvas that I was going to commission someone to paint. We should do it instead!”

I raised my eyebrow at them.

“I mean, you should paint it.”

I started putting paint away.

“If you want to.”

“Hmm,” I kept looking down as if I was focused on gathering supplies to clean, but really I was avoiding eye contact. I didn’t want to do it, and I didn’t want to say no to their face so immediately. Maybe I should have.

“I don’t know,” I said instead, “Maybe.” 

“Yeah, just let me know.” 

The thing was, I finally put together how I felt about whatever it was that we were doing. I didn’t like not being asked if they could kiss me. I didn’t want to kiss them. I didn’t like them telling me what I should do. I didn’t like listening all the time. Sometimes silence can just be silence without needing to be filled. I didn’t like how neither of us communicated the important things. And I didn’t know how to communicate that. 

For whatever reason, using words seemed out of the question.

[tenacious-scripturient]

a run-down of / my thoughts on the novel ‘trade secrets’

so! i’ve recently finished this beautifully written novel by @bettsican​, and am anxiously anticipating for the second book in the trilogy! (seriously, give it a read. it’s a great lgbtq+ thriller and mystery story, i promise you’ll love it!! you can find trade secrets in many places, including amazon, where it’s only $6)

as i was reading it, i noted down all the thoughts i had. it was fun, interesting, and kept me on the edge of my seat!

oh, and spoiler warning, of course.

Chapter One

okay. this is interesting. why are they in paris? or rather, why are they NOT in paris?

2080. damn.

who is cooper hall and why is he important i want to knowwwwwwww

Chapter Two

HOLY FUCK

CHAPTER ONE WAS A PROLOGUE

OKAY IF I DIDNT NEED TO BEFORE I HAVE TO READ IT NOW

-ahem- anyway

nate literally everything you think of has to relate to smoking, doesnt it?

clyde you absolutely bitch raccoon

im sort of piecing together what’s happening here? either way this is a SUPER interesting concept.

i love the idea of every word being important

nate look at you being a nice guy. testing the CAPS before giving them to ur clients

or maybe it’s just good business

but whatever

okay, so credits are money in this world. but how do people get them? obviously there’s what nate’s doing but what’s the legal way to get them? ill probably find out soon

if it wasnt explicitly said by betty that nate ends up with another guy (i forget his name. cooper?) i would have thought audry was the romantic interest

audry you loving caring hypocrite

i feel like she’s gonna be one of my favourite characters

who is this young man that dares disturb nate’s slumber

cooper? cooper.

Chapter Three

nate get up

u turtle get up and hurry down the stairs

or—okay you can fall into that drywall that works too

ohhhhh so nate is a detective. that’s interesting

i also love this idea of keeping secrets (haha trade secrets)

dude are you sure that your embarrassing entrance wasn’t the ONLY reason you blushed? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

HEIGHT DIFFERENCE HEIGHT DIFFERENCE HEIGHT DIFFERENCE HEIGHT DIFFERENCE HEIGHT DIFFERENCE HEIGHT DIFFERENCE HEIGHT DIFFERENCE HEIG—

nate ur spending an awful lot of time looking at his features you funky little bisexual

oh damn ur smarter than u seem, just watching him take a single breath and you’re already making connections. i guess that’s why he’s a detective

im gonna assume this is cooper, even tho it never explicitly says so

i feel like we aren’t gonna get his name for a while, bc clients and whatnot and not getting attached

Chapter Four

NATE WEARS GLASSES???????

that’s kind of cute

im lowkey gay rn

anyway

NATE CALLED HIM SWEET-FACED AND PRETTY-FACED O K A Y

oh he has curly brown hair

and oh the glasses aren’t real glasses. oh. the use is actually pretty cool!

so from what im gathering civilians are people who don’t live in sanctuaries, and lemnis are people who do?

cooper sweetie why do u need so much money what have u done

nate’s pretty clever

HAH I WAS RIGHT WE AREN’T GONNA GET HIS NAME FOR A WHILE

well that’s that i guess

Chapter Five

he’s so timid awh

hehe he’s on nate’s bed

sorry

goddammit man calm down or else you’re gonna get everyone in a 5-mile radius around you arrested

wait…. zero-credit balance?? didn’t he just have a few hundred thousand credits???

OH THIS IS A FAKE PROFILE HE MADE

so cooper isn’t his real name either

oh

Chapter Six

oh we’re back to 2080

oh they’re back in the apartment??

it was obvious before but at this point it’s confirmed that they’re going to be doing some travelling together or something

Chapter Seven

this is getting really interesting i dont wanna stop reading and type everything that comes to mind

these are gonna be shorter now hehe

“i’d been a petri dish of mixed emotions and wild chemical changes for half the day” I LOVE THAT METAPHOR LMFAO

what happened with nate’s mom

i want to know

my prediction: she wanted him to either change up or completely remove the chip bc she did something horrible? or maybe she just wanted to leave idk im bad at predictions

either way it said she was crazy

o h

that’s why he’s terrified of cutting the chip

poor nate

Chapter Eight

oh this is strangely intimate

very intimate

i feel that, because cooper has such high pain tolerance (or doesn’t show pain), he has some backstory for it

Chapter Nine

lmao nate just went off didnt he

THEIR FLIRTING IS CUTE FHJKJDLSKAJDKLSJAK

also is being lgbtq+ widely accepted as the norm in this setting? bc nate considered cooper to be flirting with him

ughhhh it’s so good so far, from the character interactions to the suspense, especially in this chapter

Chapter Ten

rude cooper is rude, rude nate is even more rude

F E D O R A

“coop”

Chapter Eleven

aw i love jimmy already—

WHAT THE FUCK COOPER

EXCUSE ME

JIMMY

WHAT

HOW COULD YOU

goddammit

what the fuck is cooper hiding

cooper oh my god

you

you’re playing a dangerous game, mate

are you really that heartless

“deceptively innocent eyes” you got that right

this chapter hurted

thanks a lot jess

Chapter Twelve

“like a weeping wound on the canvas of my home” this has got to be one of my favourite similes ever omg

the way nate’s describing cooper makes my heart hurt awh

i feel like butterflies have some sort of symbolism

maybe being ugly on the outside and beautiful on the inside, or vice versa? the vice versa was basically cooper lol

aye we finally get to meet audry!!

PEANUT BUTTER AND TRICYCLE I WANNA HEAR ABOUT THAT

i love audry omg

IT’S NATE’S BIRTHDAY?? HAPPY BIRTHDAY YA SMOKEY CONMAN

“bright eyes” is the cutest nickname ever

Chapter Thirteen

oh we’re back to 2080

wait what they’re trapped together

is this story gonna have a sad ending

please no

Chapter Fourteen

OH IT’S THE LINE ON THE COVER

i like that

nate’s back to where he left cooper

also if it wasn’t obvious before, it’s definitely obvious now that nate and cooper or gonna find each other again. hm. not sure how i feel about that

kind of pissed at cooper but also we need him for the story to progress

O H

COOPER IM ONLY KIND OF PISSED AT YOU NOW

IT MAKES SO MUCH SENSE

NATE IVE SAID IT BEFORE BUT YOU’RE PRETTY CLEVER

also who is ‘her’?

COOPER WANTS TO BECOME A?? LEMNIS?? GODDAMMIT MAN

I CAN FEEL THE PRESSURE RISING

nate’s in danger

wow this chapter is

a lot

i need a break

-cue a break-

Chapter Fifteen

i’m back

eisley is a cool last name

oh wait so even people outside of sanctuaries can become a lemniscate

i’m still not 100% sure what a lemniscate is

it’s so ironic elijah’s last name is king, but i assume you did that on purpose. i also like the slight nod to royalty by his first name

OH

COOPER’S BACK

why hello there

Chapter Sixteen

they’re

competing

to become a lemniscate

and one of them dies

do they fight back?? is that why they end up in prison??? so many thoughts are going through my head right now

nate, your fantasy about becoming a lemniscate is surprisingly dark. i’m totally down for it

Chapter Seventeen

oh wait so joshua is cooper’s blackmailer?? Interesting that it’s a lemniscate

i keep forgetting nate is wearing glasses

cooper, my dude, calm the fuck down. you’re gonna get yourself and nate killed

it’s the return of soft™ nate

Chapter Eighteen

oh there’s another one

oh this is very ominous i don’t like

Chapter Nineteen – Twenty-One

okay i was eating while i read so i couldn’t type here but just know that these chapters were really really good

Chapter Twenty-Two

wait fuck what’s happening this is all happening so fast

cooper brought out his gun,,,, it’s aimed at ivonne,,,,,,, they’re walking,,,

OH IT WAS A FAKE KIDNAPPING

nice

i like ivonne a lot

Chapter Twenty-Three

the entire story just changed course

this isn’t just about cooper and nate anymore, it’s about a corrupt government

NATE AND COOPER ARE HOLDING HANDS AS THEY RUN THROUGH THE BARRIER THAT’S SO ROMANTIC

also the line “only the dead are ever truly free” is beautiful

THAT’S WHERE PARIS COMES IN

THEY ALL GO TO FRANCE DON’T THEY

I’m so curious to find out where this story is going

Chapter Twenty-Four

this is doin me a confusion

but tbh these hints/ visions of the future, if you could call them that, are giving just enough information to keep me super interested. props to you

Chapter Twenty-Five

AUDRY STOP TEASING NATE

just joking keep doing it, this might actually get their relationship somewhere

ivonne is definitely my favourite character so far. she reminds a little of melia from xenoblade chronicles, in that they’re both ‘royalty’ that rebel. also they’re badass and smart

oh fuck the brother is here

okay thank god he’s not an asshole

oh god things are happening again

Chapter Twenty-Six

nate stop ogling at cooper when you’re in a life-or-death situation

holy shit the lemniscate are messed up

this crew is pretty great, it sucks that it’s almost the end of the book

WAIT I FORGOT THERE’S A SECOND COMING SOON HECK YEAH

anyway

YES COOPER PULL THROUGH

awwww yiss

Chapter Twenty-Seven

oh

oh

O H

oh my god i ship them so hard

THEY KISSED

THIS IS SO STEAMY

this chapter was art thank you so much for this

Chapter Twenty-Eight

AHAHAH AUDRY

once again, i’d like to state how much i love her

oh the tension just grew twentyfold

this is… great

oh god nate what are you planning, you just got together with cooper and now you want to leave him?

Chapter Twenty-Nine

what’s with all the dancing?

Chapter Thirty

oh god the description

so he’s going around and giving people credits, all the while confessing things that would help the lemniscate track him down. i assume this means he’s going to die, but why?

just what are you planning?

oh we’re back to clyde, the guy who started it all. it feels full circle

Chapter Thirty-One

OH

HE’S MAKING HIS CHIP SHOW THAT HE’S DEAD

that’s much smarter

FUCK

NATE YOU IDIOT—COOPER’S REAL NAME

SHIT NOW KING IS HERE

everything’s going downhill now isn’t it

Chapter Thirty-Two

wait that took an even darker turn

there’s so much happening right now i can’thandlethis

cooper and nate are couple goals

Chapter Thirty-Three

king isn’t as horrible as i thought

still horrible, but not a monster

NEVER MIND YOU’RE A FUCKING MONSTER WHAT IS THIS BS

cooper

actually

shot

nate

Chapter Thirty-Four

OH MY GOD

WHAT

THIS IS HOW YOU END IT

I CAN’T

HOW DARE YOU

NO

NO

NO

NO

i need the next book

like right now

what the hell

Final Thoughts

okay so this book was SO good, and so well written. like damn

aside from that horrible ending how could you do this to me

i’m joking, it was an incredible and emotional ending, i loved it and hated it at the same time

it very rarely felt static, and especially in the first half, there was a good mix of action and backstory/description. it was never boring

the story is just,,, so unique. i seriously haven’t read anything like it, EVER

the world-building?? Is?? so vast?? and insane??

the increasing tension and speed as the story progressed is perfect, i felt my heart beating faster the more i read

anyway that’s all from me

this book was amazing i cannot wait for the next

[alsoyouremischievous]

Sides Carry On

Summary: Roman Prince will do anything to protect the life he’s found through magic. This includes enduring lectures from his best friends Logan and Patton, overcoming his evil roommate Virgil, working for the Mage, and defeating the Insidious Humdrum. His life seems to be set out for him - but things can never be easy, can they?

AO3 Link

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 

Chapter Six

Roman

The door creaks open in the morning far too early for my taste. The bed is colder than it has any right to be which means that Logan got up and left at his usual ungodly hour. He’s probably back to pester me into joining him. “Go away,” I moan into my pillow, fully expecting to be reprimanded anyway. Logan has a special way of causing me to forget entirely that I ever missed him at all.

A throat clears.

I finally lift my head to see that it absolutely isn’t Logan. The Mage is standing near to the door, a quirk in his grin suggesting he finds the whole situation entertaining. His eyes aren’t quite as light as the rest of his demeanor though - and they never really are.

“Oh!” I flail, getting myself upright. “Sir, I’m so sorry.”

“No use apologizing Roman, I’m sure you just didn’t hear me knocking.”

“No, um… Should I get dressed?”

“Don’t bother,” He says, strutting across the room to the window. He takes care to avoid coming close to Virgil’s bed. Even he’s afraid of vampires. Of course, The Mage would use a much more palatable word like ‘cautious’ or ‘prudent’- never afraid.

“I wasn’t available to welcome you back yesterday, my apologies,” he says. “I trust your journey was fine?”

I leverage myself out from under the covers to sit with my legs over the side of the bed. I may be in my pajamas but I can still act like I have my dignity. “Yes,” I say, “although, fine might not be the best word. My taxi driver was a goblin.”

He sighs. “Another one?” he turns to face me again, clasping his hands behind his back. “They’re relentless. Alone, I imagine.”

There’s no question in his tone but I confirm anyway. “Yes, sir.”

He gives a jerk of his head, “They aren’t smart enough to consider pairing up. What spell did you use?”

Oh. I bite my lip. “I used my blade, sir.”

“Hmm.”

“And Into thin air to clean it up,” I rush to add.

His expression flickers, not really pleased but placated at least. “Splendid, Roman.” He looks me over, scrutinizing my pajamas and my bare feet.

He meets my eyes again, his stare hard. “And this summer? Nothing out of the ordinary?”

“I would’ve reported anything to you, sir.” Because I could contact him. If I really needed to, but only then. I have his number (and I know how to send a bird).

He gives a nod and then turns his gaze from me to focus on the window again as though he’s already managed to suss out everything he needs to observe about me. The light coming in catches his hair nicely and for a moment he appears all the more like a swashbuckler.

His uniform is… interesting. His leggings are an emerald canvas disappearing into tall leather boots and his tunic which has all sorts of pockets and straps. His sword hangs from his side, entirely visible unlike mine.

Professor Bunce, Logan’s mum, told us that previous mages wore ceremonial outfits consisting of a cowl and cape whereas other headmasters wore robes. The Mage created his own uniform, I guess. She calls it a costume.

I’m pretty sure that Professor Bunce detests the Mage almost as much as his actual enemies do. Logan’s dad is a quiet fellow, so the only times I’ve heard him speak were when his mum started on a tangent against the Mage. His voice is always soft and soothing when he say’s “Now, Mitali…” which is when she’ll take a deep breath and say  “I’m sorry Roman, I know you’re his foster son.”

He isn’t my foster father though, not in the real way. He’s never put himself forward in that way. As my family. I’m treated more like an ally of his and I have been since the start. At eleven years old he’d sat me down in his office and told me every detail. The Insidious Humdrum, the missing magic, the holes in the atmosphere like dead spots. All while I was still trying to comprehend the existence of magic at all, he was telling me that there was something out there devouring it. And he told me I was the only one who could help.

“You are far too young to hear this, Roman. However, the Insidious Humdrum is a threat that doesn’t wait for maturity. He’s powerful and pervasive. Our resistance to him is futile.

“The fight is a necessary one nonetheless. We want to protect you, Roman, and I vow to do so with my life. But it is vital you learn, as soon as possible, how to keep yourself safe.

“He is our greatest threat. You are our greatest hope.”

I didn’t ask any questions that day. I was in shock. All I wanted was for the Mage to do something cool again, like when he’d opened a window with just his words.

The first year was spent convincing myself it wasn’t real, the next convincing myself that it was.

It was only after I’d been attacked by ogres, shattered a circle of standing stones, and grown five inches that I asked the important question.

Why me?

Why did it have to be me to fight the Humdrum?

I’ve received a litany of answers over the years. I was chosen. I was prophesied. The Humdrum won’t leave me alone.

None of which are actual answers. Trust Logan to be the only one who can give me a workable reason. He’s the one who told me, “Because you are capable, Roman, and someone must.”

The Mage is still staring intently out the window. I consider briefly offering him a seat but I’m honestly fairly sure that standing is his default state.

I clear my throat. “Sir?”

“Roman.”

He seems put out today.

“Did we find the Insidious Humdrum?” I ask despite my hesitation.

He shakes his head and crosses his arms, his movements sharp and quick. “There have been no new developments. In fact, I have had to attend to more pressing concerns as of late.”

My jaw drops.

“Concerns more important than the Insidious Humdrum?” I ask, incredulity drenching my words.

He doesn’t even blink. “Not more important, Roman, just needing more immediate attention. The old families are testing me. Financial support is ceasing and the Pitches are paying certain members to stay away from Coven meetings. Not to mention the multitude of skirmishes that have been popping up.”

Skirmishes? I haven’t heard anything about this before. “Sir?” I press.

“They’ll do anything to test me, Roman. Anything to chip away at my control so that they can work their way into power. Ruining everything I’ve accomplished as they go”

“And they really think that they’re capable of handling the Insidious Humdrum on their own?”

“They’re not thinking of the end game, simply the moves directly in front of them. Right now it isn’t their problem and so they don’t care.”

“Well forget the idiots then! If the Humdrum wins there won’t even be anything to fight over. He should be the one we’re focused on.” I say.

“And so we shall. At the right time,” He says, peering at me sternly. “When we’ve the knowledge to win. Until then my major concern is you.”

He pauses.

“Roman. I’ve talked it through with some trusted members of the Coven. So far, our attempts to keep you safe have failed. In spite of how well protected we are here the Humdrum seems to do the most damage to you when you are within Watford grounds. Like last June, when you were taken away with no one the wiser.”

I flush at this. He’s talking about himself and the protections on the castle but I’m the one who’s a failure. I’m meant to defeat the Humdrum but during my first direct confrontation with him the most I could manage was running away. Without Logan, I may have even failed at that.

The Mage continues, slowly. “We’ve decided that you would be safer somewhere other than Watford.”

That’s... “Sir?”

“A place has already been set up for you and an adequate tutor has been contacted. Of course, I can’t tell you the details but we’re leaving soon so you’ll get to see for yourself.”

Everything in me grinds to a halt. That or the world around me starts going too fast.

“You’re asking me to leave Watford?”

He bristles. “Yes. You needn’t pack too much, just your boots and your cloak. Anything you don’t want to lose.”

“Sir.” I pause, reeling. “I can’t leave Watford. Classes start this week.”

He sighs, “Roman, you aren’t a kid anymore. There’s nothing left for you to learn here anyway.”

He could be right, I’m a terrible student. This year won’t make much of a difference in the grand scheme of things. And yet… “I can’t leave. It’s my last year at Watford.”

I don’t think I’ve ever seen the Mage’s eyes narrow so harshly.

“It’s impossible,” I try again. I’m trying to think of reasons, an argument. All I come up with is no. I won’t leave. My whole life is Watford, the times I’m not here don’t even feel like living. Next year that will have to change but not yet. Not yet. “No. I can’t leave.”

“Roman,” His voice is sharp enough to cut. “Don’t pretend this is a suggestion. Your life is under threat. Considering the entire World of Mages is counting on you that is not something I’m willing to compromise.”

His last point feels like one I could argue. Virgil doesn’t count on me for anything, nor do any of the house of Pitch.

I try to swallow but my throat is too dry. My head whips back and forth.

The Mage scowls at me like I’m a tantrum throwing child. “You must realize Roman, that the Humdrum only attacks when you are here. At Watford.”

“Have you just realized this now?” I blurt out, tagging on a belated “Sir.”

“What has gotten into you?” he shouts, now looming over me. “You’ve never questioned me like this before.”

“Well, you’ve never asked me to leave before!” I shout back.

His face shutters. “When we are at war we all make sacrifices.”

“We’ve been at war as long as I’ve been coming to Watford. War doesn’t mean life just stops.”

“Doesn’t it?” he spits. He’s finally lost his temper. I’m all too aware of his hand which is resting on the hilt of his sword. “Where is my normal life, Roman? Do you see my wife and children anywhere? Have you ever known me to take holidays? No. I've focused entirely on the battle ahead. We don’t have the luxury of shirking our responsibilities because we’re bored with them.”

I jerk at the insinuation. “I’m not bored,” I mutter.

“Speak. Up.”

I lift my chin and meet his eyes. “I’m not bored, sir.”

His teeth grind for a moment. “Get dressed and start packing.”

I’m rooted to the spot. “No.”

It’s not happening. I’ve just arrived. I suffered through this summer because of the promise of Watford at the end but this was the worst one yet. I’ve nothing left in me. I don’t have what it takes to leave again right now. I wouldn’t survive it. And what about Logan and Patton?

I’m shaking my head again but the Mage’s gasp makes me look to him. Or look as best I can through the red haze that’s now between us.

Fuck. Fuck.

He staggers back, his wand out. “Roman, Stay cool!”

I grab for my own wand, chanting any spell that might work but it only draws my magic more to the surface, the redness thickening. I slam my eyes shut and think about disappearing like the taxi car and the fence and the road. Try and empty my brain out so there’s nothing to fuel my broken magic. I collapse back onto the bed, distantly noting my wand clattering to the floor.

When the world swims back into view the Mage is leaning over me, his hand pressed to my forehead. I smell smoke and realize the sheets must be charred.

“Sorry,” I slur, “M’sorry. I didn’t-”

“Of course not,” he says quickly. He’s still afraid though.

“Please, please don’t make me go,” I beg.

The Mage is looking straight through me right now with his piercing gaze. I can see his mind turning and I can see the moment he gives in.

“I’ll see what can be done, perhaps work out some more time…”

He focuses on me again. “Roman, we aren’t concerned for your safety alone, you must know.”

He’s still leaning over me. Only smoke is between us and I struggle to breathe.

He finally stands again, stepping away. “Do you need to see the nurse?”

“No, sir.”

The Mage whirls out of the room, the door slamming behind him.

I wince and then check to be sure the sheets aren’t actively burning before falling quickly back into a dead sleep.

Linda

And the fog is so thick.

[todobroskis-blog]

vermillion springs [1]

summary in which she reminded him of everything in spring – even when she was gone.

pairing todoroki + reader

genre angst, tad bits of fluff here and there 

word count 1000++

March was like a clean slate of pure white. The arrays of articulate clarity gave provision to new beginnings and protrusive opportunities for refinement.

Fragrant floras yearned to blossom, the flowering perennial tauntingly daunting as they blossomed - almost demanding to usher the entire concept of turning over a new leaf.

Shoto quiescently padded across the street. The sounds of scrunching scruff from the gravel pavement blared into his eardrums. The occasional inclement wisps of whispering winds breezed rigorously. Though, he did not feel an ounce of shiver, nor the tattling tingles of stifling heat.

He didn’t feel anything.

The morning dew that ripened the crisp air with every breath he inhaled left him unfazed. The path embedded with friviling flowers was now a thornful road destined to oblivion.

He missed her.

Todoroki Shoto met her in the Spring of 2014 – the happiest year Shoto had ever lived one would argue.

It was by the park at the corner of the 5th avenue where she sat amongst the verdant weeds, atop a miniscule hill, a thick book that had odd, black splotches - Shoto assumed it was ink - encompassing the front cover. A pair of silver-rimmed glasses rested on the bridge of her blushingly acute nose Shoto noted, and the lilac dress she was wearing could probably have lived twice her lifetimes combined.

He was immensely intrigued.

Who was this random girl who decided that sitting alone at this unkeptful park was suitable to read that weird book of hers? Nobody in the neighbourhood would willingly choose to venture out to this park. The swingset was on the verge of falling apart, nearly all of the playground was infested with rust and the grass was abhorrently overgrown. Everyone normally chose to head over to the recreational gardens by the posh side of the vicinity instead.

As he threaded towards the lonesome girl, the soft pads of his feet alerted her of his presence. Her head instantly shot up, but to his surprise, her expression remained unusually nonchalant. For a brief moment her brooding eyes peered into Shoto’s heterochromatic ones, and the book she held - Shoto now realised it had no written title - tumbled out of her grasp.

“Did you know that the first day of spring is called the vernal equinox?”

Shoto was baffled. “He-I’m sorry, what?”

She straightened out the fingers on her left palm – which had three silver rings on her pointer – and shielded her vision from the glaring Sun. “The very first day of spring. It has a name. They call it the vernal equinox.”

“Oh um tha-that’s pretty uh cool?”

She giggled, the edges of her plump lips arose, and Shoto figured her teeth could very well be featured in a dentist commercial.

“I’m Y/L/N Y/N, I can manipulate the nature of plants and I probably have the largest collection of vinyls there is up to date. My favourite time of the day is when the Sun pokes out from beneath the dusk and the sky is like a canvas with a whirlwind of a thousand iridescent hues.”

Shoto’s ears perked at her ability to casually express herself with such a confident persona. He liked it. He liked it a whole lot.

“My name is Todoroki Shoto, I can produce ice from my right and fire from the left.”

There was a pregnant pause as Y/N awaited for him to add on, but he remained silent, gaze fixated on the cloth of his red sneakers.

“And?” she questioned with hopeful eyes.

“And what?” he replied, - well, asked - eyebrows furrowed.

“That’s it? Don’t you have anything you like? Or are you some kind of weirdo diagnosed with anhedonia?”

He thought carefully. “Uh I like soba? But only the cold kind,” he made sure to emphasise on ‘cold’.

“Cold soba? You’re a literal lunatic, your friendship card is revoked,” she teased, which left Shoto appalled and looking slightly disappointed.

Well there goes another attempt of having an actual friend. 

“Cheer up scar-face, I’m kidding,” she giggled again.

Shoto couldn’t distinguish whether it was the most gratifying sound he’d ever heard.

The duo shared a comforting silence, Y/N focused on drawing inferior patterns on the damp soil. Surprisingly, it was Shoto who eliminated the absence of sound.

“So what brings you all the way to this park? Everyone knows it’s too shabby to even be in usage.”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Y/N retaliated.

“Ladies first.”

She sighed. “I needed some space to think for a bit, clear my mind. Always come her when I had to. It’s rather tranquil and there isn’t anyone to interrupt my thoughts, well up until you showed up. The bonus though, is that there are stray beds of lavender laying around sporadically. I love the scent. Makes me feel drowsy but like, a good drowsy.”

“What’s been bothering you?” Shoto wondered apprehensively.

“It’s your go to spill half and half guy.”

He shrugged, quickly dismissing Y/N’s worriment. “Right. Well I simply was on a walk.”

“This early in the day?”

“Well... yes.”

“C’mon Sho-chan. What do you take me for? Throw me the truth that’s where the piping tea is at.”

Shoto, confuzzled with her choice of analogy, hesitated, but then came to a finalisation that lifting the bottled up burden off his chest to this alluring girl with a peculiar aura he just met wouldn’t hurt. Right?

“I got into a fight with my father.. Again.”

Another pause. Y/N seemed glum - probably out of pity - but egged him on regardless.

“My father wants me to be the most successful hero and surpass All-Might, just because he himself couldn’t. And to do that, he robbed me from my childhood and treated me like I’m this robotic machine. My mum didn’t take it too well and uh, kinda drove to insanity.” Shoto said that last part like he was vomiting viscous bile.

Y/N’s orbs glistened with the gloss of galvanised sympathy. “I’m sorry to hear that, Sho-chan. We all have our pessimistic problems.. unfortunately.”

“Yeah,” he grimaced. “We all do.”

He wished he had pried further on about her concerns that day.

side note anhedonia is one of the main symptoms of major depressive disorder, the loss of interest in previously rewarding or enjoyable activities.