#its about the colour vision test

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

there is something truly exhausting about spending a decent while debunking a post as pseudoscience, and then ten minutes later, see it on your dash again. like,,, do i need to debunk this chain of reblogs as well????

[mercutio-the-velaryon]

Too much discourse time to cornplate...

Something about Mel slashing around a palette knife doused in red when she's painting Noxus, ellicting this sense of violence, and rage that of course shows her frustration with Jayce but also symbolises the inner conflict of her as a person (empath) and her as a Medarda. When Mel is in this quiet yet subtlely hostile state the strokes of red she applies to the canvas seamlessly blend in with what's already there but she instantly halts her assault of the canvas when Jayce tells her that Viktor's dying. Her empathy immediately overtakes her anger, her Mage nature overcoming her Noxian conditioning/upbringing which I think foreshadows her future actions in the series.

(This shot is also half submerged in shadow and half in light - once again reaffirming Mel's internal conflict, you could argue because Jayce is literally on the light side that his presence indicates that he is consequential perhaps a harbringer of her good-naturedness and empathy and what not)

Also of note, Mel completes (or defiles) the painting with broad brushstrokes of gold, her colour, her magic, her empathy.

These brushstrokes quite literally look like her magic. The gold accents are smooth and fluid and have very obviously not been made with a palette knife. Its splattered so passionately and interrupts such a triumphant vision of her homeland; Its a fervent rebellion against her mother, her roots and her upbringing but I think it also serves to hint at her eventual return to Noxus, where I believe, her empath nature will be tested and will win out in the end; she will figure Noxus out, but she will not conform to the ideals of others.

(Me getting emo because Mel's magic looks like brushstrokes, she's just a painter at heart man I'm drinking tonight)

[hwajin]

☆°. — ᴛɪʀᴇʟᴇss

genre: fluff, smut

pairing: hyunjin x afab!reader

wc: 3k

warnings: disgustingly cute sex, piv/ unprotected sex/ coming inside, explicit mentions of insecurities (though mentioned in the past and not relevant for the fics' present)

author's note: very self indulgent but i hope it resonates with some ppl, feedback is highly appreciated 🫶

Linen sheets around your body, the warmth they provided a saviour against the cold turmoiling outside. The sky had been gray twenty minutes prior, red and orange leaves having struggled to stay latched onto their trees, having lost the battle eventually to cover the asphalts in autumn colours. There was little rain drizzling from above still, though the sun had now found its way past the clouds drowning the neighbourhood golden. The faint scent of vanilla reminding you of the candle on your nightstand, the turning of pages and a sharpened pencil against them the only sound filling the room — it was peaceful.

"You're so pretty."

Hyunjin’s voice sounded barely as a whisper — anything but would have disturbed the atmosphere; quiet, warm, a sense of carelessness. And yet you jumped in your place, been far too engrossed in the book laying before you not to scare at his sudden voice cutting through the silence. You'd never feel pretty before Hyunjin. Before he's emerged in your life — you weren't sure still, how exactly, all too suddenly and without warning, as though he was a dream altogether — your appearance was something you'd obsessively worry over for the first half of your life, and tried to disregard entirely in the second one — despite blaming your loneliness on the very fact of lacking attractiveness you've come to simply live with the fact, had grown too tired to care, essentially.

You shifted in your shared bed, only a little to direct your focus from the book to Hyunjin, sitting by his desk — the surface as messy as his appearance. Pencils, papers and colors scattered all over, his hands proof of the artistry he's produced for the past hours; hair disheveled, shirt and shorts on his body ruffled up — he looked endearing, like lazy mornings personified, like coziness bundled up within a body.

He'd come into your life unexpectedly, and you wouldn't have believed anyone if they told you about it. About the sudden happiness the relationship with Hyunjin brought, the sudden feeling of securances, of home; of love. You wouldn't have believed someone to be ready to treat you the way Hyunjin did — any other person grew null to him if you only called, prioritizing you over passions and work. You wouldn't have believed to have found a love like this, a lover like him.

You wouldn't have believed to have found beauty within yourself, through him. And it had come naturally. You had never not believed him, never doubted his words — because they've always been spoken so matter-of-factly, so purely. Unexpectedly, too — much like now, while mundanenity lay over your features. Hyunjin carried a gift to search for beauty where other people would mind looking, and finding it effortlessly. More often than not you wished to be gifted with this vision, curious to see the world through his eyes — curious to see yourself the way he did.

Hyunjin chuckled at the way you blushed. You might be believing his every compliment, his every confession of love, though you long didn't grow used to it, or cold. Every tender word, every touch he planted onto your body as though you were fragile porcelain, most price treasure yet never stopped to send shivers down your spine. Wouldn't ever, you thought.

And you still never knew an answer. Flustered now, awkward as he kept looking at you, teasing simply, to test — Hyunjin had always taking amusement and certain pride in making you shy for him, because only he was able to. A shameful caugh left your throat, to fill the silence, to camouflage the speechlessness he'd brought upon you with as little as a compliment — you detangled from the linen sheets, letting the cold engulf you in order to make your way over to your lover, the man who was watching your every step with a knowing smirk as he inspected the blush covering not only your cheeks but the tips of your ears, your neck — it was a little as a mundane compliment, but it was far from meaningless to you, held as much importance as if Hyunjin had proposed right then there.

His hand found home on your bottom, the small of your back when you've stood next to him eventually. His eyes didn't lose your figure, glued onto you as if a look elsewhere would take you away.

"What are you drawing? Flowers?"

Hyunjin enjoyed painting nature; oceans, skies, flowers. Many grazed the walls of your very room, each a different meaning – he’d paint you baby’s breaths on your one-year anniversary, in everlasting love; he’d paint you pink camellias when he missed you, in longing; he’d paint you calla lilies if your insecurities got the best of you, in beauty. Though when you looked at his drawing it weren’t flowers; it was a sketch of you.

“Well, almost.”

Hyunjin's eyes turned to where you were looking, the drawing he's worked on for the past minutes, shy grin adorning his features at his cheesy comment. Your body was grazing the white paper, pencil strokes of your curves, you in the nude, another paper showing your face, a portrait, another one an abstract, more of only your eyes, only your mouth and nose, of your hands, some in colour, some in simple grey, small ones, bigger, doodles, proper paintings. You were scattered on his desk, your body was. Hyunjin's love lay open before you — maybe you didn't need access to his vision after all. His art was entirely enough. 

Hyunjin waited for a reaction, squeezing at your hip when there was none, looking up at you, curious eyes beneath the silver strands of messy hair.

"I've been running out of ideas lately, and... it's always nice to draw you... most of these aren't finished and rough-"

"They're beautiful. I... can't believe you'd wanna draw me this often."

"You're the only thing I wanna draw. Ever."

Hyunjin's gaze lay upon you, deep, waiting for you to look at him. You did eventually, turning from away from his art and blushing momentarily at his piercing eyes on your own. A soft smile from both of you — not as much as an upturn of one corner of the lips, both for too flustered to muster up and actually smile, too aware of the tension laying heavily now on your shoulders — and no further words were needed. Would be void if spoken aloud; so you bent down to meet him to meet his lips, hopeful and wanting, inviting when they fell upon your own. Hyunjin sighed into the kiss, relieved, longing. His left hand joined his right on your body, holding you by your waist, caressing you at your hips, tight, secure touches, absent of hesitation. He granted you the same love capsulated in his notebooks with a touch, a grace, a squeeze against your flesh, your whole.

Never breaking the kiss, and you sighed when he pulled you closer to his body, into the space he presented between his half-bare legs. You understood — wouldn't have believed anyone upon hearing to be finding comfort on another’s' lap, without as much as a second thought, though it was so natural with Hyunjin. You let him guide you, large hand by the small of your back, another by your hip; and you straddled him, broke the kiss only to settle down, to get comfortable — and you wished you hadn't, for the side of your lover beneath your weight was almost too much to bear. Love behind his glassy eyes, adoration he only knew in connection to you, only ever felt if you were the matter. Gaze a longing one, jumping from your lips to your eyes and back down to your lips — but a puppy waiting for his treat, staring you down as if there was no other, nothing else existing beside you and your body, your face inches from his own.

You closed the distance again, unable to hold out on it — Hyunjin's lips reddened already, always so prone to sensitivity, to visible reaction to loving antics. His teeth clashed against your own, almost painful but not quite; you weren't careful, deemed to not have the time to — you needed him, and you needed him now.

"Baby... slow down."

It was Hyunjin to pull you back to reality, though not to clear-mindedness – you obeyed his words, not as much a command as a simple reminder; you loosened your grip on his hair, pulled away an inch, only enough to breathe, to sigh into his mouth that didn’t cease leaving open mouthed kisses against your own. Though your thoughts were but a fog, still, holding no clear picture beneath your lids except him, everything about him – pleasure-contorted face, though you merely sat on him, barely even moved atop his body; brows a furrowed line, creasing deeply in the middle, eyes soften and tender to paint contrast; cheeks coloured, in fluster and anticipation, dooming excitement; guiding hands on your figure, reminding of his presence, his attentiveness, his care – he didn’t loosen his grip on you a moment, held you close and tight as his lips moved leisurely against your own. He took his time with you – not too tease, not because he was well aware of your desperation, but because you deserved nothing else. Hyunjin knew you’d whine upon his patience, though it was the very proof of his devotion; his patience held love, his patience held the entirety of your world.

So, you continued slowly, though not any less unable of lucidity, because Hyunjin never allowed it. If his touch wasn’t driving you insane it was his voice, a whimper rolling off his tongue and onto yours, or a sigh leaving his throat for you to swallow. Your lover always receptive, never shy in volume. Or it was his gaze on you – Hyunjin pulled away, occasionally, leaving you empty to catch a look at you before pulling right back, nearer than he was before. He left you no time for coherence, fed you only enough care and affection so you wouldn’t hunger, yet not enough for eventual satisfaction, by any means. Driving you further to insanity, hands groping rougher at your body, easing with soft rubs right after, teeth sinking into your bottom lip to heal momentarily with a lick, a following kiss – Hyunjin pulled on your every weakness, and not accidently.

A chuckle left the man’s lips when your hips – hot and painfully ignored by any type of his attention, leave for his raging erection right against your core – dragged against his own, in any hope of relieving pressure, of searching for friction. Your lack of clothes wasn’t making it a hard task; you were merely in your underwear, the thin material of Hyunjin’s shorts and boxers barely layers to complain about, yet it was far too much separating him from you.

Hyunjin chuckled at your desperateness, though his proclamation of amusement turned into one of pleasure – you grinded with such force, such wanting vigour he didn’t expect, and his own futilely cool act crumbled in his palm, shattered to pieces for you never not had the greatest impact on him, his pleasure, his love. When it came down to it, he wasn’t any stronger than you, not even more patient – his heart was as much slave to you as yours was to him.

Any composure was long forgotten. You’d argue, even, that Hyunjin by now was needier than you’d been to begin with – he didn’t waste time getting rid of either of your lazy attire, a long, slender finger simply pushing your panties to the side before dipping into your wetness, experimentally at first, with new-found enthusiasm then upon your reaction – you hummed out, fingers fisting his lose-fitting shirt, body rolling into his, in search for more. A second finger after a minute or two, a third one moments later and you were grinding against him, needy, loud, head thrown back or hidden in the crook of his neck. Your hot breath against his skin egged Hyunjin on, his digits curling within you, lips turning into a hazy smirk when you whined out, when your teeth sunk into the part between his shoulder and his neck, in helplessness, not in embarrassment over your sounds – you would never deny Hyunjin your voice in pleasure. The stinging feeling on his skin made him twitch in his confines; you felt it, if only subtly, and your eyes found his from beneath, fogged with bliss.

“Want you…”

It needn’t much more – Hyunjin both understood and was ready to comply for he wasn’t much stronger in resisting than you; it wasn’t a minute until his erection lay exposed between your figures, red and leaking already – he could act as coy as he wanted to, though his body would always serve as living proof of your effects on him.

You lined up, still fully dressed, white panties pushed to the side; hovering above him was hard given current position, legs growing tired quickly though Hyunjin supported enough with his hands by your hips, guiding you above him until you felt his tip by your entrance, until you – finally, eventually – sunk down on him, taking him fully momentarily. You moaned out in unison, almost pathetic, definitely frantic – it needed only the feeling of his cock inside you, of your walls around him for the both of you to fall victim to utter senselessness. You had the comfort of each other, though, aware of the similarity in lust and longing, so less embarrassed by it.

Hyunjin had given you a moment to adjust, had used the minute to clear his mind himself; to little avail, though he’d like to believe he gained back a fraction of the composure he had lost along the way. Yet, and it drove him entirely insane, the view of you was powerful enough to make him lose every battle he was fighting with himself – he watched your seemingly struggling face, eyes shut, mouth agape, lost in the pleasure Hyunjin granted. He prided himself on your expression, on your thoughtlessness; and then you opened your eyes again, locking them directly with his own. You both blushed, you both sucked in a breath, at the sudden realization of intimacy, of closeness, or maybe at nothing in particular, at the view of the other, the sight of your lover; your hips started moving, mewls rolling off tongues, eyes closing again in granted relief. Hands on bodies, groping hopelessly, feverishly. Eyes fighting to stay open to watch, to inspect, to remember. Mouths longing for the other, tongues dancing waltzes, sounds of pleasure being swallowed to make each their own. Two lovers on a late noon, two lovers so very engrossed in each other anyone looking upon them would struggle not to believe in souls, the connection of such.

Every flutter of your sensitive walls, every roll of chasing hips, every clench Hyunjin reciprocated with sounds so endearing they got you light-headed, got your urge growing to grant him more, better, greater. None of you were in control, in particular, and yet both of you were fighting for it — though not in selfishness, but for gratification for the other. Despite your cramping legs, positioned uncomfortable on the chair beneath Hyunjin, despite your inability to even move much you did nevertheless, as best as you could, pulling on all of your lovers' buttons — you nibbled at his neck, breathed out against it, swore confessions against his damp skin; everything you knew would drive him needier, more insane. Though he was the same — he throbbed within you, guided your hips along his erection for you to feel entirely, to drag out the feeling of his every vein grazing your walls, of every of his rigid fitting your own like pieces of a puzzle. His hands, though sweaty and strained, held position at your hips, to stabilize, to ease off the pain in your legs. Your own were homeless, playing with Hyunjin's hair right by his nape or pulling at his scalp when he granted a mindless thrust against you, or exploring his body entirely, grasping fingers on his chest, against his torso, on the steadiness of broad shoulders.

You grew impatient. Had never been in the first place and lost some more of it yet, wanted to hold onto the feeling of Hyunjin prodding at your cervix yet urging release. Hyunjin was no different – he had let you move solely on your own before though now snapped his hips into yours, mouth agape or biting at his deep red lips, sucking in breaths and sighs of your name in anticipation. His grip on you would leave marks on your skin, that you were sure of – though you weren’t one to complain. The telltale signs of his high doomed on you; furrowed brows, twitching erection within you, frantic, passionate, messy, wet kisses against your mouth or your neck; the act of pulling you closer to him – and then the words, finally; “Fuck, baby, I’m– …I’m cumming. I’m gonna cum.”, before he did, spilling within you. He hadn’t waited on your release, only because he knew you’d reach it after his own – he had felt you being close, had noticed the fluttering of your walls around him, your calls of his name increasing in pitch and volume, had seen the expression on your face he’d never misread – and he knew his orgasm inside you would bring you to your own, would be the last push down the cliff.

Your muscles spasmed, your legs contracted and Hyunjin held you close, eased the pain off your legs with a tired grip on you. Despite it you didn’t dare get off, though – basking in your closeness, relishing the warmth of body on body, losing yourself in the giggled kisses Hyunjin now planted on your panting lips, the loving confessions spoken against the lobe of ear before it was nibbled on in adoration – affection never stopped after release with Hyunjin, after the reach of simultaneous orgasm; his love expanded the sheer physicality, mere lust.

Hours later you’d lay in bed again, naked then, bare bodies glued to one another, every painting, every drawing of you on Hyunjin’s desk long forgotten, if only temporarily, for the cleverest artist couldn’t possibly copy the beauty Hyunjin saw in you before his very eyes, every day anew; tirelessly.

@es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @bintificreads @svintsandghosts @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus @junebug032 @noellllslut @wolfennracha @unexceptional-h @like-a-diamondinthesky @katsukis1wife @binniesbang

[cressidagrey]

You are the best thing that's ever been mine - Part 7 (The End)

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Ariel Cane (Original Character)

Summary: Sao Paulo 2024. The Dutchman delivered a defining drive…but maybe there is a relationship that could also use some defining. 

Warnings: Jos Verstappen, angst, crying, mention of pregnancy, mention of sex and sexual acts, physical confrontation

Author Notes: Hi, hey, hello! Apparently I write F1 Fanfiction now?! Also this is the first time I am trying a social media au so my Canva Skills were put to the test. (Disclaimer: I kinda put legibility over authencity, so twitter doesn't look like twitter and messages looks like...something) Also huge thanks to @onebigfangirlworld and @leodette for holding my hand with this 😘)

"Did you really throw Lewis of your Christmas Cookie list after Silverstone 2021?!" Max asked Ariel, his eyebrows climbing into his hairline after reading that particular text message.

Ariel didn't even bother looking up from her breakfast, as she was scrolling through her own phone.

"Yep," she said, popping the p. "I crossed him off my Christmas cookie list for two years. No cookies for Lewis."

Max looked at her, his expression a mix of amusement and bewilderment. "Two years?" he said, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

If she had thrown Lewis of her christmas cookie list for two years, there was no chance that Lando was getting any cookies this year. "That seems a bit harsh, don't you think?" he said carefully, but Ariel just shrugge. 

“I am very aware that your job has its dangers,” Ariel said drily. “This wasn’t about what happened on track. I was making a point.”

Max’s lips curving upwards slightly at her words. "What point were you trying to make, schatje?" he asked, a hint of mirth peeking through his nonchalant tone.

Ariel finally looked up from her phone, bluish-green eyes that never could quite decide which colour they wanted to be, mustering him. Her expression serious. "The point was about respect. You could have died. You battled severe vision problems for the rest of the season. And Mercedes was talking about it like it was a lesson you were finally being taught. Lewis wasn’t the only one on a cookie ban. Everybody at Mercedes was," Ariel said sharply. “Because their behaviour after that crash was completely unacceptable. I decided that a two year ban without my cookies was enough to drive that point home."

Max's amusement turned into a full-fledged smile at her explanation.

"So, Mercedes' team didn't get cookies for two years?" he asked, clearly trying not to laugh. Ariel arched an eyebrow, a defiant look in her eyes.

 "Yes, exactly," Ariel replied. "No one from Mercedes received any Christmas cookies for two years. And let me tell you, Lewis was heartbroken."

Max couldn’t help but laugh then, the sound deep and rich. The image of Lewis' disappointed face, finding out he was on her ban list for two years, must have been a sight to behold.

"I bet he was," he said, his laughter slowly subsiding, even when he couldn’t help but smile at her. 

This was Ariel in a nutshell. She had always, always been unapologetically in his corner. There had never once been a question about her loyalty. She may called him out on his bullshit, but she was just as willing to go to bat for him. 

"You're ruthless when it comes to your cookies, you know that?" he told her with a smile. 

She inclined her head. “I have my principles,” she said simply. "And those principles include doling out cookie-related punishments when necessary."

Max shook his head, completely smitten. 

"Oh, I know very well how protective you are of your principles," he said with a hint of tenderness in his voice. "And I love that about you." Max leaned back in his chair, his expression becoming more serious.

"But I have to say, it's touching that you were so upset by what happened during the race that you decided to ban everyone at Mercedes from your cookie list. But two years is a long time without cookies, schatje."Ariel seemed unrepentant, her defiant side shining through in her expression. “You didn’t need to do that. I am tougher than I look,” he told her with some amusement. 

"They were lucky it was only two years," she snorted, her voice holding a note of irritation. "I was thinking about a lifetime ban."

Max chuckled again, amused by her determination. 

"Lifetime?" he repeated, the word hanging in the air. "You really didn't pull any punches, did you?" She just shrugged, just as her phone vibrated. "Any reason why Victoria is texting me to tell you to call your Mom`?" she asked drily, after a short look at her phone. 

Max rolled his eyes, even as Ariel’s phone pinged again. And again.

"Lewis did apologise about the betting pool by the way," he informed her and Ariel just snorted. 

"He is worried about getting blacklisted again," Ariel told him sagely, and he couldn't help but laugh. 

"I'll get my laptop," Ariel said softly as she stood, leaning down to drop a kiss against his hair and Max couldn't help himself but to pull her into a proper kiss. Max pulled her onto his lap, his arms wrapping around her waist with ease.

When they finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers. A smile played across his lips as he spoke.

"You know," he murmured, his voice dropping to a lower, huskier note. "I could get used to having you here. In my lap. Anytime." He didn't want this moment to end. He could feel her breath against his neck, her fingers tracing small circles on his shoulder.

He was about to pull her in for another kiss when her phone pinged again, breaking the blissful bubble of intimacy they had created. "Call you Mom," Ariel told him pointedly as she stood.

Max chuckled, reluctantly letting her go. "Spoilsport," he teased, but his eyes were full of affection.

He reluctantly picked up his own phone and dialled his Mom's number. His mother answered on the second ring. 

"Maxie! You took your time to call," she scolded him immediately. 

He had. Mostly because he had no idea what to say.

What was Max supposed to say?

He had won a race. He had finally figured things out with Ariel...

And he was quite sure that the next time he tried to talk to his father it wouldn't end well at all, because his father had laid his hands on Ariel. And that was simply unacceptable as far as Max was concerned.

He opened his mouth to respond but his mother continued, talking over him in her typical, motherly way. "Are you alright?" she asked abruptly, her voice filled with worry. 

He wasn't about to lie to her. "I...I am getting there," he admitted, his voice rough. "Did you see..." his voice broke before he could bring out the words.

"Yes. I saw," his mother said darkly. "Everybody saw, Max. Sky kept a camera onto the whole...thing. I am so sorry," she apologised to him and he couldn't stand it. First Ariel apologised to him about what his father did, then Victoria and now his mother. 

He couldn't stand it.

Max felt a sudden flare of anger as he thought about the cameras catching the whole scene at the garage, his father's behaviour on full display.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm his thoughts.

"It's not your fault," he said quietly, his voice betraying his emotions. "You don't need to apologise for him."

His mother was quiet for a moment, her voice softer when she spoke again.

"I know. But you are my son and I..." she trailed off, seemingly lost for words.

Max could sense her struggle, her own emotions warring through the phone."I'll be fine," he reassured her, his own voice quivering slightly. He appreciated her concern, but he didn't want to add to her worry.

He forced a light tone into his voice, trying to sound more like himself. "I'm a big boy,” he assured her. He was quite sure that his mother din’t believe a word he sai. 

"How is Ariel?" She asked him instead.

Max couldn't help the smile that tugged the corners of his lips. The mention of her name lifted some of the weight off his chest.

"She's...she's good," he said honestly. "She's handling everything better than I am, honestly."

He glanced over his shouler, back inside as they had ha breakfast outside on the balcony…and found Ariel with her laptop on her lap sitting on the couch. Her focus was intense, as usual, as she typed away.

"You two are good together," he heard his mother say, her voice gentle.  "I always thought so. At least one good thing came out of this whole mess," she said with a chuckle. “Even when it took you the better part of a decade.

Max's lips lifted in a small smile at her words, his eyes still trained on Ariel, his girlfriend. His girlfriend. 

He couldn’t quite believe it, but he adored every single moment of it. 

An he agreed with his mother. Despite everything, things between him and Ariel had turned out for the better. She was here, in his room, as his girlfriend and he was glad for it.

He couldn’t imagine to going back to being just friends, to not be able to reach out an pull her into a kiss…to not hear every single soft noise that escaped her as he pressed his lips to hers…

"Yeah," Max agreed quietly. "One good thing, indeed.”

"Look after her," his mother said, her tone now taking on a more serious note. "I know you will. But take care of her. And yourself while you're at it."

Max felt a warm rush of gratitude wash over him. His mother's concern never failed to touch him, no matter how old he was.

"I will, Mom," he assured her, his voice softened by affection.

"...What will you do with your father?" she asked him curiously.

Max's smile faded at her question, his thoughts turning dark once again.

He had been avoiding thinking about his father, not wanting to deal with the complicated mix of anger and hurt he felt. But he knew he could not run from it eternally.

He took a deep breath, his voice quiet and rough. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "I can't just...I can’t just let it go, Ma. Not this time. He laid his hands on her," he added, his voice filled with a burning anger that he couldn't suppress. The image of his father's hand connecting with Ariel’s soft face… it was making him utterly furious. 

His fingers clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white. "I can't just forgive that."

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment, a heavy pause that carried the weight of his words.

When his mother spoke again, her voice was gentle, "You don't have to forgive him, Max. No one will force you to."

"Vic can do whatever she wants, obviously," Max continued. "But I am done. I don't want him anywhere near Ariel. I don't want him anywhere near my family."

His mother was silent for a moment again and he knew she was just processing his words.

"You are serious," she said quietly, her voice holding a hint of awe. "You really mean it, don't you?"

"Yes," Max answered firmly, his voice sure and steady. "I've had enough, Ma. This...this was the last straw."

He closed his eyes, his stomach turning at the thought of his father's actions.

"He laid his hands on her. I can't ignore that. I won't."

His mother was quiet for a moment, digesting his words. He could practically feel her surprise. His relationship with his father had never been easy and she knew that from personal experience.

Finally she spoke again, her voice careful but firm. "And what if he doesn't take your decision well?"

Max couldn't help the weary sigh that escaped him. He knew his father well enough to know that this would probably turn into a shitstorm.

"I know he will get angry," he admitted, his voice low but unwavering. "He always does when I don't just do as he says. But...this time I don't care."

“He can talk to my lawyers,” he said drily. Though he probably woul owe them truly ridiculous amounts of money to deal with his father when all was said and done.

His mother chuckled lightly at his words, a hint of amusement in her voice. "I'm sure they will be looking forward to that," she said dryly.

Then she sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of years of dealing with her ex-husband. "He won't go down quietly. You know that, right?"

Max nodded grimly, his free hand clenching into a fist. "I know," he said, his voice heavy with the knowledge of how stubborn his father could be.

He had grown up with his father's temper tantrums and his endless list of demands. He knew all too well that his father would not accept his decision without a fight.

But Max was no longer the little boy who had to comply with his father's orders. He was a man, a fully grown adult, and he was determined to stand his ground, no matter what.

His voice was firm when he spoke again. "It doesn't matter," he said. "I’m done with letting him control my life. I won't back down ."

There was a pause on the other end of the line and Max could almost see his mother nodding, her face a mixture of worry and pride.

"You're stubborn like him," she said suddenly, the amused tone back in her voice.

Max smiled, a brief moment of levity in this dark conversation. 

"You always were a determined little boy," his mother continued said, her voice filled with memories. "Even as a child, you never knew when to quit. I swear you're only getting more stubborn with age."

He couldn’t but chuckle quietly. His mother sighed.

"So you and Ariel," she changed the topic, trailing off leadingly. "Can I finally expect some grandchildren from you, then?"

Max almost barked out a laugh at the question. He was caught off guard by the sudden switch in conversation, but the subject wasn't an unwelcome one.

"Ma," he said, his voice tinged with both humor and incredulity. "One crisis at a time, please."

"It's a valid question," she said in response, her voice filled with feigned defensiveness. "I'm getting old over here."

Max rolled his eyes, a fond smile on his lips. "You're not THAT old," he teased.

His mother huffed at his words, amused but pretending to be offended. "I am old enough to be a grandmother, Max! I want to spoil some grandchildren before I'm too old to enjoy it."

Max chuckled, the lightheartedness of the conversation a welcome break from the heavy topics of their previous discussion.

"I'm not disagreeing with you," he said lightly. "But you're going to have to give me a little time. I just got her, you know."

His mother snorted at his words, her voice filled with a mother's knowing. "Oh, I know you well enough, Max Emilian," she said, a hint of mischief in her voice. "Trust me when I say, it won't take long for you to put a ring on her."

Max rolled his eyes again at her words, but he couldn't argue with her logic. "We'll see," he said, his voice trying for a nonchalant tone.

The truth was, his mind had already started wandering down that path of its own accord. But he wasn't going to admit that to his mother just yet.

"You keep telling yourself that, Max," his mother said with a laugh, her tone filled with maternal certainty. "In a few months, I will have another daughter."

Max chuckled at her words, the thought sending a jolt of excitement through his chest. The idea wasn’t as scary as it should have been.

"You are awfully sure of yourself," he teased, his voice tinged with amusement.

"I know my son," his mother said simply, the affection in her voice clear. "And I know how much you love that girl."

Max felt a lump in his throat at her words, the truth of her statement hitting him hard. He loved Ariel with all his heart, more than anything in the world. He couldn't deny that.

"Ma..." he began, his voice growing a little rougher.

"It's alright," she said gently, understanding the emotions behind his words. "You don't have to say anything. Just...take care of each other, yeah?"

Max nodded, his throat too tight to form words. He knew what she meant, the unspoken worry for the road ahead. But he was determined to face it together with Ariel.

"I will," he managed to speak, his voice filled with determination and love for her. "I promise."

"Good, Maxie," his mother said, the nickname making him feel like a child again. But he didn't mind. In his mother's eyes, he would always be her little boy.

She paused for a moment, then added, "I'm so proud of you, Max. You know that, right?"

Max felt a wave of emotion wash over him at her words. To hear his mother say that to him, in this difficult time, meant more to him than he could express.

"Yeah," he said quietly, his voice a mixture of gratitude and love. "Yeah, I know."

He felt a strange sense of peace wash over him. Despite everything that had happened, despite the storm on the horizon, he knew he had his mother's love and support. And he had Ariel. He was not alone. 

His mother's voice was soft when she spoke again. "Go back to your girl now," she said, a hint of humor back in her tone. "She's probably wondering what's taking you so long."

Ariel’s email inbox was an absolute nightmare

She couldn't stand the sight of it anymore.

Between the concerned emails from friends, the offers of support from colleagues, and the endless messages from people she had never even interacted with, her inbox was a swirling mess of sympathy, curiosity, and unsolicited advice.

She hated it.

With a sigh, she shot off a message to her friend Madeleine, making some plans to see each other sometime before Christmas...something which hopefully would involve more than one strawberry daiquiri.

(God, she really could do with one right now.)

She also had no idea what to do with the sprawling apology that she was quite sure Lando had either asked ChatGPT or Oscar to help him write. 

She wasn’t sure which was more likely and less weird. 

(Ariel also wondered if it was only about her christmas cookies…but she was willing to cut some slack…maybe.)

Other than that...it was still a nightmare. Ariel started to copy paste her response to every single media inquiry, which was that she was very much fine and very much not interested in talking to any of the media outlets about what had happened between her and Jos Verstappen and also very much not pregnant.

The mere thought of having to talk to a horde of journalists, all eager for the next juicy story, was horrifying. 

She wasn't one to seek the spotlight, and the fact that she was suddenly thrown into the center of it against her will made her feel both irritated and violated.

Leaning back against the sofa, she took a deep, calming breath.She hadn't even "started" with her phone though. That one was also a nightmare of seemingly every person in her life deciding to blow it up with numerous messages. Some of it was really quite sweet. Some of it definitively wasn't though.

The amount of people reaching out to her felt almost overwhelming. Her phone was inundated with text messages, calls, and voicemails, all filling up her notifications to an almost dizzying degree.

Some messages were nice, filled with warm wishes and support. But there were also those that were much less pleasant, asking questions that were far too intimate. Some even seemed downright judgemental.(...Ariel’s list of people that were going to get cookies this year was definitively dwindling down.)

At this point, it was difficult to tell who was genuinely concerned about her and who was just trying to squeeze some gossip out of her. She found herself growing increasingly frustrated with each new message she read, the constant barrage of questions and inquiries making her head spin.

With a weary sigh, she put her phone down and scrubbed a hand over her face, feeling utterly exhausted both mentally and physically.The whole experience felt oddly voyeuristic, like strangers were peering into the most private corners of her life, trying to satisfy their curiosity without any regard for her feelings.

And she didn’t even dare to look at her instagram…or on tiktok. Or on the website formerly known as twitter. Until she did and then clicked away again immediately. 

Social media was a vast minefield of people throwing out comments that were anything but helpful. From armchair psychologists to self-proclaimed relationship experts, they seemed to know exactly what she should - and shouldn't - do.

"Hey."

She looked up to see Max join her on the couch, sitting next to her. He held out his arm for her and she pushed away her laptop to curl against him. 

The one good thing that was coming out of this drama was their relationship.

"Hey," she greeted him softly. "Good talk with your Mom?" Max nodded, his arm wrapping around her body and pulling her close. The feeling of her body against her was pure comfort. 

Ariel happily leaned against him with a sigh. 

"Yeah, she just wanted to know how we're doing," he said, his expression a mix of weary and affectionate. "She worries. You know how mothers are."

She did. There didn't pass a day where Ariel didn't miss her own mother.

She leaned her head against his chest, taking in the solidity of his presence. His hand began to move in soothing, lazy circles on her back.

"This isn't some sort of fling to me," Max told her suddenly. She was so surprised by his sudden change of topic that she could just stare at him. "I would probably marry you tomorrow, given the opportunity. I wasted 5 years, I am not wasting anymore time."

She could just stare at him, her mouth suddenly dry at this look in his blue eyes. It was…decisive. There was no other word for it. 

Max had mae up his mind. 

An his words made Ariel’s heart flutter in her chest.

"Max..." she began, not certain of what to say. 

Marriage wasn't something she had considered in the midst of all the drama. It had… well. It hadn’t crossed her mind. Not yet. Not while there were a thousand moving pieces all around them. 

“I just want to be with you,” Max told her fiercely. “We don’t have to do anything right now, if you want to take it slow. That’s fine. Anything you want is okay. But I am serious about us.” Max said, emphasising each word slowly and clearly.

He was serious, completely serious. The raw honesty in his eyes told her everything she needed to know.

"Max," Ariel said his name quietly, her voice thick with emotion. She searched his face, looking for even the slightest hint of doubt or uncertainty. But there was none. He was earnest, sincere, and utterly in love with her.

"I love you too," she whispered. "And I am serious about us too."

Max's eyes brightened at her words, his whole face lighting up with a smile. He tightened his arms around her, pulling her even closer into his embrace.

"You mean that?" he asked, his voice filled with a slight tremor of disbelief and hope. 

"Of course, I mean that," she promised him softly. "I love you. And I can't wait to spend the rest of my life doting on our two spoiled cats and stopping them from taking apart your Sim Rig. I can't wait watching you win races and knowing that you come straight home to me. And I can't wait to see what you'll do when you are done with it all and decide that you want to try out something new. I can't wait to grow old with you."

Max was stunned silent by her words, staring at her, swallowing. 

"That's all I ever wanted too. Just you, me, and our little monsters. Nothing more, nothing less,"he said, his voice catching.

"Maybe some kids too. Down the line," she teased him. She wanted that. One day. Max had always been amazing with children.

"You...you would want that?" he asked huskily. "You want children with me?"

Her hands rose to cup his face. "Of course," she said softly. "I want everything with you." 

 With him, the thought of children didn't seem so scary. It felt more like a promise of the future, a future that would be filled with love and laughter.

Max's arms around her grew tighter, desperate almost. He pulled her even closer, burying his face in her neck and inhaling deeply.

"I don't deserve you," he mumbled against her skin. "I truly don't."

Ariel gently cradled his head against her, running her fingers through his hair in a soothing motion. "Shush," she whispered. "Of course you do. I love you."

They simply sat there on the couch for a moment, wrapped up in each other. The world outside their little bubble seemed to fade away, and all that mattered were each other.

"I really want to go home," she said softly. "And cuddle Sassy. And Jimmy."

Max chuckled quietly and nodded into the crook of her neck. The thought of going home after the last few days sounded idyllic.

"Yeah," he agreed, his voice muffled. "Let's go home."

(Author's Note: While this finishes off this particular installment, I am SO NOT FINISHED WITH THEIR STORY. It will be a series and I have A LOT of ideas. So I will wildly skip through the timeline 😅😂 (Also if you have ideas/prompts/suggestions, they are always welcome!)

[fallingforfelix]

❛❛midas touch❞

큐피드의 화살은 눈이 멀 수도 있지만 항상 마음 속에 그 표시를 찾아냅니다.

cupid's arrow may be blind, but it always finds its mark in the heart.

.° ༘🎀⋆🩰₊˚ෆ

synopsis: kinktober day #1 — hair pulling (trichophilia)

pairing: roomate!felix x fem!reader

content: 18+/explicit (MDNI tyvm), viewer discretion advised, so highly suggestive it’s probably considered smut, college au, second person view, older fem reader, mature and unestablished relationships

warnings: noona kink, colour word system used, profanities and suggestive language, teasing, bruising and consensual pain, bdsm power play and loss of control, mentions of orgasms, age gap, coercion, whiny kink, dom reader and sub lix, hair tugging, begging kink if you squint, mentions of oral sex, pain kink i guess, dry humping, begging, pet names (pretty boy, angel, doll, good boy, love, sweetheart), hickeys

word count: 2.3K (2392)

note: i wanted to commit to the ‘kinktober’ trend, but…four days in and not looking very strong😓😓 i also wanted to post something for channie’s bday yesterday but that didn’t happen either :( the smut scene was supposed to be wayyyy longer but i kept on having unsystematic bursts of motivation and really needed to upload some content. i think tmrw i’ll try to write smth, maybe fake texts or a short story where the reader/felix/another member comes to terms with their kink but nothing smutty actually happens. i might even be able to sneak in a fluffy kinks drabble later tonight but that’s probably just a load of big talk. anyways i hope you guys really do enjoy this🫶

inspired by: rosy by @rosylix, slowly to me by @jilixthinker, and pretty please by @naeviskz

song reference: midas touch by kiss of life

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“lee felix!”

you had entered the dorm, only a few minutes prior to felix’s arrival. and much to your dismay, the sight of an empty cookie jar greeted you, its desolate state an affront to your cravings.

the racket of keys stirred your senses, and the squeak of his high tops along the wooden floor announced his arrival. you called out, your tone laced with disappointment.

the aussie‘s head protruded from

the around the corner. “is something wrong noona?”

your gaze narrowed. “you know exactly what’s wrong, lix. i’ve been craving those cookies all day!”

a sheepish look crept across his face. "oh, uh, about those..." he began, scratching the back of his head.

you sighed heavily. “you owe me.”

“yeah, yeah,” felix drawled as he advanced towards the couch on which you were accommodated.

as he walked over to you, his blonde locks caught your eyes. felix’s hair was styled in two braids that were gently woven from the crown of his head, cascading down either side of his head like two delicate rivers of gold. each braid was tightly woven, with subtle wisps framing his face.

he plopped down beside you, his nonchalance testing your patience. a lecture about the sanctity of shared snacks brewed on your lips, but a mischievous spark intervened. your hand darted out, tugging at one of felix’s braids in protest.

you expected defiance, not a high-pitched whine that fled his lips as he tried extracting his braid from your grasp.

you stared at him, your heart skipped a beat at the unexpected vulnerability, and it took him a moment to cognise what he just did. felix’s face flushed pink, his relatively small hand rose to cover his pink, plump lips, and he breathed in shakily.

for a moment, the dynamics shifted, and perhaps it was a hormonal surge, or some other weird psychological phenomenon, but suddenly you found yourself conquered by a newfound self-assurance.

felix’s eyes met yours, a flicker of euphoria in his gaze, ignoring the unspoken tension that had just become palpable to him too.

“well, well, well,” you smirked, your vision tracing the blush that now dusted felix’s cheeks. “that was quite the intriguing sound you just made, pretty boy. mind if i uh…hear it again?”

felix’s dark eyes clouded with guilt as he hesitated, but you tightened your grip on his braid, the motion eliciting another sharp whine from his lips.

“n-noona. please,” he spoke breathily.

“captivating,” you purred, the fingers on your spare hand tracing the contours of felix’s jawline. “i didn’t realise you could make such…arousing noises, love.”

“you’re enjoying this…aren’t you?” he asked, his voice trembling.

you chuckled, otherwise ignoring his question. “you know, i’ve never thought about this before,” you mused as you continued to hold felix’s braid. “but these braids of yours really suit you.”

felix’s breathing was now noticeably shallower, his chest rising and falling at a rapid pace. he tried to speak, but the words got caught in his throat, replaced by another whimper as you wrenched on his braid, this time even harder than the last.

“please,” he managed to say, his voice a hoarse whisper, “i can’t...i need—“

your smirk widened as you heard the desperation in felix’s voice. you could feel the heat and tension radiating off of him, and it was clearly affecting him just as much as it was affecting you.

“hearing you like this…it does something to me,” you whispered, voice low and husky, cradling his braid.

“please,” he asked again, his voice thick with need. “touch me. i n-need to aah feel you. please.”

your heart was racing now, the sound of felix’s voice and the way he was begging for your touch driving you wild. you wanted nothing more than to give him what he was asking for, but there was a part of you that wanted to tease him just a little more.

“i think i’ve discovered a secret of yours, angel,” you murmured, leaning closer to felix. his ears flushed crimson as he attempted to turn away.

slowly, you reached out to his other braid, toying with it between your fingers before giving it a light pull. felix involuntarily let out a soft whimper, his eyes widening in surprise at the sudden intensity.

your lips curled into a sly smile, relishing the effect you had on him. “it seems like i’ve got a little weak spot, don’t i?”

felix’s voice dripped with smug satisfaction. “oh, you definitely do,” his words laced with a thick, raspy undertone, which, despite your dominant position, left your head reeling.

you released one braid, your fingers drifting up to softly cup felix’s chin, guiding his gaze to meet yours. his eyes were now visibly darker, a mix of shock and arousal, as he struggled to regain composure.

“you have no idea how much it excites me to hear you making these sounds,” you whispered, your thumb tracing the lines of his parted lips. “absolutely intoxicating, lixie.”

“feels like you’re shre—shredding my sanity, noona…” felix gasped.

“oh but look at you doll,” you purred, your eyes roaming all over his flushed face. “all red and flustered, it’s adorable.”

“i am not adorable. i’m supposed to be…to be hot mm. you’re supposed to be c-cumming at my blissedth state,” big talk for someone who was still trying to gather his thoughts, felix’s mind a jumble of sensations. and with each passing second, your words and touches were making him more and more unravelled.

“hot? you’re incandescent, felix, burning me up with every whimper. but let's see who breaks first—your control or my restraint,” you replied.

“i don't know how m-much longerrr i can...ah, fuck,” another drag at felix’s braid, securing a lewd groan from him.

“i could get addicted to these little noises you make,” you continue, your fingers now delicately outlining his jawline. “i’d make you whimper and whine and beg for more.”

“y-you’re already making me. you’re, you’re playing dirty…stop gloating mm,” he spoke, trembling.

“dirty? you have no idea how filthy i can be. and i'm just getting started. unless you want me to stop? or do you want me to push you further?” you grinned like a crescent moon, knowing felix’s resolve was crumbling with each passing moment.

“you’re insane... but i think i’m cra-zier for ngh wanting more,” felix slurred.

your breath hot against his ear, you whispered. “just imagine how you sound when i do…this.”

with a single, swift movement, you tugged harshly on both braids, pulling his back to expose his neck. felix let out a guttural moan, his eyes fluttering shut as the sensations coursed through him.

“oh, god…” felix whined, his body arching, yielding to your touch.

you took your chance. holding your breath, you leaned towards felix’s exposed neck, and you latched your lips onto the upper edge of his collarbone. gently at first, although the sudden contact seemed to have already aroused him judging by the way his body jerked at your touch.

a stifled gasp slipped from between felix’s lips as your tongue darted across his skin, making his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed heavily, fighting the urge to make any more sounds.

“aw don’t get all shy now pretty boy. let noona hear those angelical noises,” you teased, detaching yourself from his skin with a slight drag of teeth.

you licked a strip across the sensitive skin of where you just kissed him. felix did not hesitate this time, eluding a low groan which contrasted from his whines.

you began to suck at a new spot on his neck, closer to where his adam’s apple was, his braids still tightly in your grasp. you could feel the way his pulse was thrumming though his veins under your lips. felix’s hands, which had been laying uselessly at his side, jerked up to grip at your waist as an act of steadying himself.

his grip on your waist was hard, his fingers practically digging into your skin as he struggled to keep himself from trembling. felix’s breathing hitched in his throat as you continued to lavish his sensitive spot with attention, your tongue leaving a wet path in its wake. 

your hand progressed upwards, solidifying itself at the base of felix’s hair, holding as tight as ever. he let out sobs in pain and pleasure.

he started to feel light-headed, tipsy, overwhelmed by the feeling of heat rushing through him, spreading lower throughout his body. felix’s usually rational mind was fogged by the sensation of your hand in his hair, and your mouth on his throat.

he was losing control, and he knew that he couldn't take much more of this.

and neither could you.

you could feel the heat pooling in your stomach, your own desire growing stronger by the second. you couldn’t resist him any longer. the way felix was unraveling under your touch, the sight of him desperate and needy, was too much to handle. you wanted him, you needed him just as badly.

you gave felix a particularly hard suck, pulling his skin in through your teeth. the whine that followed ripped at your core and you almost combusted on the spot. that had to have been the highest moan you had heard from him, from anyone at that. 

you lift your head up, gazing at the boy below you who was losing all coherent thought.

“colour, pretty boy?” you inquired, your lips throbbing from all the sucking.

“green…d-don’t stop. don’t ahh- fucking stop, noona-yah,” he panted, words illiterate.

your spare hand came up to rest upon felix’s right shoulder, rubbing smooth, consoling circles around the area.

you swooped your head again, your warm breath dancing across the skin of his neck for mere seconds before you latched yourself onto his neck, now directly on top of his adams’s apple.

“ooh…ooh f-fuck noona! ye-yes! mm, harder…” the noises he was making were blood curdling, toe curling even.

you swear you just cummed. you gushed with slick, your own body quivering now. the temptation to let go of felix and please yourself seemed like a losing battle.

instead, you relaxed your full weight upon felix’s lap, rocking your hips onto his erection, and oh boy, he was rock hard.

he exhaled another huff, followed by a string of curses and other incoherent words. you lost suction of the hickey you were forming, smiling lowly into his skin. as if it wasn’t already obvious that you had him right where you wanted him, and still pushing him over the edge.

you attacked his adam’s apple for the second time, opening your mouth wider to tease a larger area of his skin. his hips subconsciously bucked upwards into you, earning a sigh on your end. your warm breath on the newly-formed hickey sent felix into complete overdrive.

his hands slipped past the upper edge of your sweatpants, expertly finding the waistband of your panties, pulling the lace into view and rising it up level to your hip line. you winced in pain as felix began fingering your lingerie, occasionally bumping the side of your hip, where he had left bruises from his tight grip earlier on.

the hand that was on felix’s shoulder jerked up to his braids once more. you ran your fingers through the plaits, unravelling them like you unravelled their owner, leaving waves in his milky blonde tousles.

you kissed the spot where you were marking your possession, moving your placement to the underside of his defined jaw, teeth gnashing at his freckled skin. his laboured breathing echoed through the room, a symphony of surrender.

“s’good…oh you’re so g-good noona. what have i…been m-missing out onn?” felix spluttered.

you just yanked his hair in response, his braids now completely unthreaded. every word and every sound he expressed ignited your nerves, set your heart alight. your oxygen was depleting steadily, but you weren’t going to stop and take a breathe. you were going to suck felix’s skin to the death and die a happy woman.

but as that thought was revolving around your brain like an eagle circling it’s prey, felix came to an abrupt halt, releasing your lingerie and letting it hit your skin like rubber ricochetting. he mustered the strength to grip your shoulders, before gently prising you off him. a look of concern came over you, worry concealing the lust in your eyes.

“felix, sweetheart, i’m so sorry…are you hurt? what did i do?“ you voiced, exasperated.

“noo i’m all good…y-you’re all good, noona-yah. oh you’re fucking, fucking phenommmenal, god. i just…i need a favour,” felix tripped over his words.

“of course. anything, felix, you’ve been such a good boy. just tell me what you need. let me take care of you,” you replied.

your expression was filled with concern, worry, and just a hint of lust as your eyes travelled over his body, taking in his red face, messy hair, and heaving chest.

felix’s heart slammed into his rib cage, as his eyes locked with yours. he took a deep breath, feeling the air catch in his throat as he tried to speak.

“n-noona,” he murmured, his cheeks flushed an even darker shade of red. “i need you to…can you let me…?”

your heart skipped as you heard the hitch in his voice, they way it trembled with need and desire. you knew what he wanted, you had made him fall apart under your touch just a moment ago, but you had to hear him say it.

you leaned closer, moving your body against his, letting your breath brush against his ear as you encouraged him.

“tell me, pretty. tell me what you need.”

a full body shiver ran through felix as your breath ghosted over his skin, sending a wave of heat straight to his core. he closed his eyes, drowning in the sensation of your body so close to his, the weight of your words in his ears.

he swallowed hard, his voice quiet and husky again as he finally spoke.

“…can you hold my hair back…whilst i ea-eat you out? please?”

oh. well, you thought that he was going to ask you to suck hickeys onto him further down, on his chest maybe. or he might’ve asked for you to kiss him.

but when your pretty roommate offers to give you head, are you really one to decline it?

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part 2??

©fallingforfelix, 2024 tag if inspired

[sanjisleggy]

the siren and the sun (portgas d. ace x reader) [pt6]

a/n: this was truly a test in writing fear and grief :D do let me know if i succeeded or failed

contents: graphic descriptions of bodily wounds and assault bc good times never last :’)

wc. 1.5k

wanna be on my taglist?

part 5

drip.

drip.

drip.

thump.

you aren’t initially alerted by the noise, still bleary-eyed from sleep as you leave your room, on the move to the galley solely due to the dryness of your throat. Ace had been stirred awake by you wriggling yourself free from underneath him just a minute ago.

“don’t go…” he’d slurred, long fingers grasping weaky at your shorts. you told him you were too thirsty to fall back asleep and that you’d be back before he knew it. now, as you make your way to the open deck, you wish you’d listened to him.

on the ground lays a limp body surrounded by a pool of thick, red blood. the life-sustaining substance seeping into the very grooves of the same wooden planks you’ve stepped on every day for nearly three years now. your blood runs cold when you recognise that signature hairstyle.

Thatch…?

his skin is deathly pale and his body completely unmoving as he lays face-up on the floor. even through the darkness of the night, you can see faint bruises forming on the exposed parts of his skin and the countless gaping wounds decorating his torso. the one in his chest is so large you swear you catch a glimpse of his ribs. his cold lifeless eyes are blasted wide open as a lone knife lays near his feet, drenched in blood.

“Thatch…?” you murmur, the name slips past your lips but you’re suddenly so breathless it barely comes out as a sound. “Thatch?”

he doesn’t respond.

a handful of seconds stretch into an infinite number of years as an unimaginably cold feeling washes over your entire body and goosebumps ripple over every inch of skin. you feel yourself begin to sweat in spite of the frigid night air as your lips part to make way for a cry for help.

but before any sound comes out, a loud bang reverberates through your head just a split second before you feel something hard collide with the back of your skull. the impact knocks the wind straight out of your lungs as you fall to your knees. unable to get your bearings in time, you feel yourself get flipped over as effortlessly as one would do with a ragdoll before your assailant slams your head against the deck as one large hand covers your mouth while the other clutches your throat.

you flail your arms and legs as panic sinks into your very bones, your eyes burning with tears not only from grief but also fear. your vision begins to blur at the edges as the grip around your esophagus tightens slowly but surely and though you try your best to make out the face of your attacker, it’s only when he speaks do you fully realise who it is.

“it’s nothin’ personal, kid,” Teach whispers as he pins you underneath him. “yer just at the wrong place at the wrong time… but now that i think about it… we wouldn’t be ‘ere if ya just gave me the Fruit, would we?”

it was during a recon mission with Ace when you found the Devil Fruit. it had been sitting so innocently on the ground–partially hidden by blades of grass–that you nearly missed it entirely had it not been for its distinct colour.

word that you’d found a new Devil Fruit spread across the Moby Dick like a hungry blaze the moment you stepped foot on deck with it cradled in your arms. while many either congratulated you or joked lightheartedly about how unfair it was that you’d found two, others were inclined to give bartering a shot, seeing as you “couldn’t eat this one anyway.”

as much as you were tempted by their offers of taking up your night shift for the rest of your life or being your personal bodyguard–Ace in particular had a big problem with that one–you quickly decided it would simply be a gift.

“i can’t just give it to anyone,” you replied with a laugh when Teach asked if you could perhaps give it to him. “it’ll have to be for someone special. it could potentially be so life-changing, y’know?”

he agreed and didn’t push any further.

Teach grins down at you when he catches how your eyes widen at the revelation.

“that’s right, girly,” he sneers almost gleefully, “you got Thatch killed, didn’t ya? ya wanted so badly to make it some sentimental present but instead ya doomed him the moment you gave him the Fruit.” 

you try to shake your head as the sheer overwhelming grief at the accusation wracks your brain while your lungs continue to fight for air that’s so painfully out of reach. fresh, hot tears gather at your eyes even faster than before as you fight to stay awake against all odds.

“if ya just gave it to me like i asked,” Teach leans down closer to your face, pinning you even harder against the cold wooden floor, “i wouldn’t even have thought of killin’ ‘im.”

“are you sure, (Y/N)?” the head chef asked, eyes widened almost comically at the sight of the Fruit sitting in your hands as you offered it to him. “i don’t feel like i deserve something so special,” he admitted as he scratched the back of his head.

“don’t be silly,” you replied, shoving it into his hands. “you take such good care of all of Pops and all of us. i know you’ve always been interested in having Devil Fruit powers yourself so here’s your chance.”

“thank you, (Y/N). truly.” Thatch pulled you into a tight hug, nearly squishing the Fruit in between your bodies. “i’m touched you think so highly of me.”

“of course i do… and now you won’t have to be jealous of Marco, Ace and me anymore either!”

“hey now.” he pulled away with a smile on his face before he reached out to pinch your nose lightly–a gesture he adopted soon after you first joined the crew. “don’t say the truth so loud.”

“take one last look, (Y/N).” Teach jerks your head abruptly to the right so that Thatch’s body is in plain view. “this is my farewell gift to ya before i go.” although your vision is blurred by the never ending stream of tears, his bloodied face flashes across your eyes as clear as day. 

Thatch… i’m so, so sorry.

“tell Whitebeard this is what’ll happen to his precious family if anyone comes after me, got it? that’s if ya live, ‘course.” Teach lifts your head off the ground just to slam it back down against the deck.

once. 

twice.

after the third time, you feel something warm seeping into your hair. it’s only when he lets you go do you realise you’re not lying in a pool of your own blood.

gasping desperately for air, you choke and writhe as every breath sends an unbearably sharp pain down your throat and through your skull. your vision blurs in and out of focus as you feel as if the world is spinning on its axis. you slump onto your side, the warm wetness of your blood staining your cheek as you stare straight ahead at your friend’s body.

a fresh wave of anguish washes over your entire being and, against all common sense, you begin to inch closer to Thatch, your bruised muscles screaming at you to stop. broken sobs force their way out of your crushed esophagus and you nearly pass out from the physical agony alone.

“please…” you croak, “please, Thatch… wake up.” unable to move any more, your body slumps uselessly as you lay on your side, just an arm’s length away from Thatch’s body.

“wake up…” you babble repeatedly as the realisation that he’s truly, actually dead because of you begins to fully sink in. “wake up. wake up. wake up.”

in midst of your grief, you fail to notice the familiar numbing, tingling sensation from your Devil Fruit ability blooms across your tongue.

“wake up… please, you can’t be dead… wake up!” you raise your volume with every syllable, as if death was simply something you can startle someone awake from. 

before you know it, you start screaming.

“wake up w̸a̷k̴e̶ ̵u̶p̵ ̸ẁ̸̧a̷̙̓k̶̹̓e̴͎̎ ̴̢̅u̸̡̕p̷͍̊ ̴̰̀W̸̬̾͑A̶͜͝Ḵ̷̯̌͆Ę̶̺̊͠ ̶͙̪̀Ṷ̵̀͗P̶̦̓͝ NOW”

a searing pain rips through your throat as you begin to cough up blood. a loud ringing noise reverberates through your brain and you nearly begin to choke on air from how sudden the sensation hits you. you’re used to your Devil Fruit ability wearing down your throat but never like this.

thump.

Thatch’s dead body jolts for a split second before it contorts almost violently as he sucks in desperate sips of air through gritted teeth, pausing only when his head turns and his bloodshot eyes meet yours.

“Thatch…?” you whisper hoarsely as a deathly chill runs down your spine. 

tears begin to well up in his eyes as he struggles to move his arm, barely shifting it enough so that his cold hand brushes against the tip of your nose. Thatch attempts to say something, his bloodstained lips shivering as they open and close. “... (Y/N)...” is all he manages before the light leaves his eyes once more.

gen taglist: @irethepotato @i-reblog-fics-i-like @grierpilots @appalost @hyper-fic-ation @dressycobra7 @38lyra38 @chaseyui @paraparakiss @krooschl @teewon @olliesoxenfree @misstraffy @riftmage27 @aletch @somatchajade @kitsunechan707 @thesmolestsage @lunaizhere @saint-atlas @goldenpanda16

series taglist: @captainportgasdace @mitskisaveme @graveyardsweethearts @vaniiiavengeance @stuckinmymind22

[papiliotao]

꒰ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒕 𝒖𝒑𝒐𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔 ✩࿐

pairing: scaramouche x gn!reader

content: fluff, fluff, and more fluff, scaramouche is referred to as kunikuzushi, established relationship, makeup

summary: after noticing that your boyfriend’s eye makeup is more or less flawless, you ask him to test his skills on you.

a/n: this is what happens when you let me brainrot with @ilyuu for too long hehe... the scara brainworm has worked its way into my head. this is a cry for help.

“Hold still,” Kunikuzushi mumbles under his breath as he leans in towards you. With steady hands, he brings an eyeshadow brush up to your face, carefully placing the end of it against one of your eyelids. You have to stop yourself from flinching as the sensation of the bristles touching your face sends shivers down your spine.

“You’re moving an awful lot,” he reprimands you. A frown spreads across your boyfriend’s features. “Don’t blame me if you end up looking like an absolute idiot.”

Upon hearing his words, you have to force yourself to stifle a giggle. Kunikuzushi has a rather sharp tongue, but at times, even his irritated guise isn’t enough to conceal his love for you. Every single one of his emotions is displayed on his face for you to see, appearing as clear as a cerulean sky on sunny summer days. An entire rainbow array of sentiments is painted across his features.

Your proximity to him makes it easy for you to discern each feeling — after all, you’re so close to him that you can practically count all his eyelashes — so instead of focusing on the feeling of Kuni doing your makeup, you try to focus on him.

Porcelain skin tinted a very subtle shade of bubblegum pink at his cheeks; eyes that are filled with oceans of allure, adoration, and enchantment, containing a glint that speaks of the most mystifying secrets of the universe; and messy strands of hair reminiscent of the night sky framing his face make your pulse race erratically. The feeling of his breath tickling your skin only adds to the elation that threatens to make your heart burst.

It’s undeniable that Kunikuzushi is pretty — no, absolutely breathtaking — from any distance. After all, you had spent what felt like eons admiring him from afar before you could muster the courage to talk to him. However, up close, he is ethereal. Every single one of his features entices you, causing an entire sea of affections to flood your heart, overrunning it with feelings of unadulterated bliss.

As you stare at him in a daze, your gaze gravitates towards his lips. Although it’s difficult for you to look down due to the eyeliner pencil he just picked up tickling the edges of your eyes, you still manage to see them in the margins of your vision. His lips look so soft and plush, coloured a coral hue in stark contrast to his snowy complexion. They look so tempting. You feel a strong urge to kiss them — an urge that only intensifies as he subconsciously chews on his bottom lip as he concentrates hard on perfecting your makeup.

Your actions go entirely unnoticed by your boyfriend, or at least, you think they go unnoticed. He’s too focused on doing your eyeliner, quietly muttering a string of swears under his breath as his hand shakes. It seems like he’s nervous for once. You assume it’s because this is probably the first time he’s doing makeup for someone other than himself.

No matter how indifferent he acts on the outside, Kunikuzushi cares about you enough to become a mess on the inside when he’s doing something for you. It’s endearing in a strange sense.

With one final stroke, Kuni pulls back in order to admire his work. A small smirk adorns his features as he fixes his gaze upon you. Even though your boyfriend has moved, your eyes are still glued to his lips.

“Not bad,” he says. The galaxies of indigo swirling within his irises seem to glow brighter the longer he stares at you. It’s obvious he’s undeniably enamoured. He adores every aspect of your being. Kunikuzushi loves you down to every last detail, and right now, he’s especially enchanted by your eyes.

Slowly, Kuni’s face inches toward your own. His stare remains fixated on the corners of your eyes, which are tinted with dusk red eyeshadow reminiscent of his own makeup.

Before you know it, his lips softly press against your face, just barely grazing one of the areas he had just finished applying makeup to. Although no words are exchanged, you know what he’s trying to say.

You look absolutely divine.

When he finishes, he moves in once again. However, this time, he goes for your lips. Kuni slowly closes the distance between the two of you, narrowing the gap that separates you from him until you can feel his warm breath fanning your skin. He stops right before you kiss to gently caresses your cheek.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you staring earlier,” Kuni whispers slightly breathlessly, although in the moment, that phrase sounds slightly hypocritical. His gaze is locked on your lips, almost as if he doesn’t dare to look away.

Little by little, the final inch of space between you diminishes, and you are met with the sensation of a pair of warm lips against your own.

The kiss is magical. It feels like something out of a fairytale. Butterflies run rampant in the pit of your stomach as you relish in the softness of his skin against yours, and for a second, you picture yourself in a dream. A dream where the rest of the world is forgotten, and all that exists is you and your lover.

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging/commenting if you enjoyed this!

[grimmweepers]

— ☆ 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐒

alhaitham x ryu. this is obviously a selfship piece for ryuhaitham and it’s in first person. canon au. comfort. fluff. read here if you want more context on us. 0.7k wc

I sat curled on the couch with a blanket drawn tightly around me, staring at the modest decorations I’d strung up days ago when Alhaitham first left for Akademiya business. The lights, the strings of ribbon—they felt out of place here, like foreign embellishments in a world that had no meaning for them.

Christmas. Once upon a time, it had been everywhere—woven into every light, every note of music, every breath of winter air. It wasn’t as though I’d celebrated Christmas extravagantly but the absence of it here made the ache of displacement settle heavy in my chest. Even if I’d only half-participated in the holiday back then, its laughter and warmth had always been a comforting constant.

Teyvat moved without pause. The winds of Mondstadt whipped across snow-buried plains, Sumeru’s ever-shifting leaves played on the breeze and Liyue’s lanterns flickered against a fading sky. It was timeless and unchanging, as if the universe was indifferent to the celebration I longed for. But like the decorations I’d strung up, Christmas had no place here. And in that knowledge, my homesickness deepened, the distance between my old world and this one stretching farther.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and I startled, my gaze snapped to the figure entering. Alhaitham’s silhouette was outlined against the dim light of Teyvat’s evening and in his hand was a small neatly wrapped package, the paper a rich shade of crimson, tied with thin, silver silk that shimmered softly in the light.

“You’re back,” I mustered, rising slightly from my seat.

“I am,” His gaze swept over me, and a crease formed between his brows. “You look troubled.”

I offered a fragile smile, “Just thinking about… you know.” I trailed off, eyes drifting to the window where whimsy unbeknownst to me twinkled in the inky expanse above.

Without preamble, he extended the gift toward me. “Here.”

I blinked in surprise, looking from his hand to his face. “What’s this for?”

“Isn’t it customary to exchange gifts for… Christmas?”

The word fell from his lips tentatively, as though testing its weight. His eyes searched mine for any sign that he had mispronounced it. Then, a bittersweet ache unfurled in my chest.

“You… remembered?”

He remembered. Even in passing, even if I hadn’t explained it in detail, he had remembered. And more than that, he had acted on it.

“You mentioned it once,” he replied, the faintest hint of awkwardness colouring his tone. “I don’t fully understand the tradition, but it seemed important to you.” He paused, then added softly, “I thought it might remind you of home.”

My fingers brushed the wrapping paper, tracing its edges as a quiet laugh escaped me. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

“It matters to you. If it makes this place feel less foreign, then it’s no trouble at all.” He spoke as though his sentiment was the simplest truth in the world.

I bit my lip, his words filling the emptiness in my heart like the flickering flame of a candle in the dark. Slowly, I unwrapped the gift, the paper falling away to reveal a delicate glass ornament, its shape a perfect, crystalline star. It caught the lamplight, scattering prisms across the room like a reflection of something celestial—like fragments of a distant sky.

“It’s not much,” he almost sounded apologetic, “but stars seem to hold significance in your world’s imagery for this holiday.”

I stared down at the gift, my vision blurring as the sting of tears welled unexpectedly. The ornament trembled in my grasp, held close to my chest as the first drops slipped free, unstoppable. “Thank you,” I whispered, so softly it felt like the words might dissolve and me with it.

Watching me closely, a shadow of concern crossed his face, as though uncertain whether he had made me uncomfortable. “You’re crying…” His voice wavered, caught somewhere between a statement and a question.

I wiped at my tears, smiling through them. “They’re happy tears,” I told him. “I really needed this.”

Alhaitham sat beside me with the same calmness that defined his every action. The silence now brimmed with a bubbling warmth, deeply felt like a steadfast anchor.

“If you’d like,” he started, “then we’ll celebrate it. Here, every year. However you wish.”

His offer settled gently. “I would like that,” I said, already untethered.

Alhaitham nodded, brushing his hands against mine, the touch so tender it seemed to carry a promise with a three word phrase hanging in the air. As the glass star shimmered between us, the ache of homesickness began to ebb. In its place bloomed a sense of belonging.

A realisation that home was here. Home was now. And it had been all along.

© 2024 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform

divider: @/adornedwithlight

[bedoballoons]

maybe like a character x mitsuri Kanroji like reader?

so basically misturi has pink and green hair, is very cheery and nice, has a HUGE appetite, she has almost inhuman strength a basically her muscle density is 9 times higher than the average human. And is extremely flexible hand a ribbon like katana. I think a pryo vision fits best.

I literally love your workkkkkkkk♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

Awe thank you!!! <3 I had so much fun writing this!! I hope you like the characters I picked and I'll totally write others if you don't!! Sorry it took so long to finish!

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿─

{༻~Misturi Kanjiro like reader!~༺}

CW: Fluff! Sweet moments! Pet names! (Belle by Lyney and Love by Kazuha!), confirmed relationships for most of them!

(Includes: Diluc, Lyney, Albedo, Kazuha, and Wanderer!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Diluc:

Your stomach growled hungrily in excitement as you stepped into the kitchen, Dilucs long red hair tied back in a messy bun while he prepared breakfast, his hands busy chopping vegetables and cooking up your favourites, just because he loved spoiling you. "Are you making what I think you're making?!" You asked excitedly, hurrying to his side to take a peek and smiling widely as the smell of delicious food hit your nostrils, making your tummy growl again in response.

"But of course and I made extra so you could have leftovers for lunch." He leaned over placing a kiss on the top of your head as you cheered and wrapped you arms around him in a celebratory hug. "Thank you!"

𑁍༄Lyney:

You had a bounce in your step as you made your way through the crowd of people, your long pink green hair tied up in sweet pigtails as your eyes focused in on the center of attention, which was Lyney and of course his assistant Lynette, the magic duo of the century. Pure joy bubbled through you while you watched the two of them perform trick after trick and the audience clap after each one, things you swore couldn't happen, but somehow he made them happen.

Then to your surprise his eyes landed on you, a mischievous smile taking place on his lips, as he addressed the group of watchers once again, "For the next trick, I'd like to pick someone from the audience! Hmmm what about you Belle, could you do the honours?" He pointed to you, your face instantly blushing red as you walked towards him, his hand gently taking yours and leaving a rainbow rose in its wake. "Could you hold this for me?" He asked, his cheeks slightly pink which made you want to giggle, he was kinda cute..."Okay!"

"Now put your hands together, rainbow rose on the inside and make sure no one can see it." You followed his directions, closing your hands around the rainbow rose and making sure there were no ways to peep at it, your whole body tingled with excitement as he spoke the magic words. "And reveal!" You pulled your hands away and suddenly your singular rose had turned into a whole bouquet, growing right in front of your eyes and bursting with all the colours of the rainbow.

"WHAT!"

𑁍༄Albedo:

"No matter what tests I try...it seems I'm unable to come up with a explanation for your inhuman strength. You're a mystery to me...a sweet adorable mystery." Albedo said softly, his bright blue eyes meeting yours as a blush spread rapidly across your face, your heart pounding harshly in your chest when he stood up and made his way to you, his hand reaching out to help you up from your seat.

"I'm not the only mysterious one Mr. Chalk prince, speaking of which! Do chalk people eat cake?" You beamed up at him, his arms wrapping around you as he placed a kiss on your forehead, a small chuckle escaping him. "Im not sure chalk people is the appropriate term...but either way, yes I eat cake." You hugged him back lifting him up slightly as you cheered, "Yay!! I have some in my bag! Let's go!"

𑁍༄Kazuha:

Fire swirled around you in brilliant orange and yellow hues, shifting and whirling in every which way with the wind as its guide, it mesmerized you to the point you were almost speechless. "Kazuha...this is so beautiful!" Your hand squeezed his tighter, your visions glowing in harmony as he hummed in delight and placed a soft kiss on your cheek. "The way wind mixes with the elements is very calming, the colours that flow with every breeze and the way it can bring vision bearers together, letting them work in harmony. It's lovely.."

You nodded happily, your eyes trained on the incredible sight all around you...

𑁍༄Wanderer:

Wanderer flashed a smirk at you, his eyes wide with excitement as you readied your weapon, the ribbon like texture of the blade making him raise an eyebrow...what the hell were you going to do with a ribbon? "You sure you don't want to back down? I won't go easy on you, even if this is sparing." His voice rang in your ears as you smiled back at him, your katana glinting in the sunlight as you held it up in his direction, "I won't back down! Just you wait!"

He chuckled and with that the match begun, the two of you shooting forward at high speed, wind blades flying mere centimeters from your face as you delicately dodged. Your body spinning slightly as you got closer, your katana swirling like a protective shield around you and yet also being sharp enough to draw blood, which became clear when the two of you parted.

The dust parting and revealing a small cut on wanderers face, his eyes absolutely shining now as he laughed maniacally, "I shouldn't have underestimated you! This is going to be fun!"

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚Have a nice day*⁠.⁠✧

[webfarmhouses-blog]

Web designer in Jodhpur

Creative Web Design

We are a web designing company that has a team of skilled and experienced web designers and developers who can create stunning and functional websites for any type of business or domain. We offer a variety of web designing services, such as custom web design, web development, web hosting, SEO, and maintenance. We also provide you with a free web design consultation, where we can discuss your goals, needs, and preferences, and provide you with a web design proposal that suits your requirements and expectations.

What we do in Web Design

Our web designing services are the services that provide web designing solutions for clients who want to create or improve their online presence. It involves the use of various elements such as colours, fonts, images, graphics, animations, and interactions to convey the message and purpose of the website to visitors. Web designing services can help clients with various aspects of web designing, such as Consultation: Our web designing services can help clients understand their goals, needs, and preferences, and provide them with expert advice and guidance on how to achieve them . Strategy: Our services can help clients develop a clear and effective web design strategy that aligns with their brand identity, target audience, and business objectives.Design: We help clients create a unique and attractive web design that reflects their vision and personality, and that engages and impresses their visitors.Launch: Our services can help clients launch their website to the public, and provide them with web hosting, domain registration, and security services.

Our Design Technology

At Web Farm House, we understand that web design is not just about making a website look good. It is also about making it work well, communicate effectively, and provide value to the users. That is why we use the latest web design technology to create websites that are:

Visually appealing: We use web graphic design to create stunning and consistent visual elements for your website, such as colours, fonts, images, icons, and animations.

Easy to use: We use user interface design to create intuitive and interactive elements for your website, such as buttons, menus, forms, and navigation.

Functional and reliable: We use web development to code and program your website, using languages such as HTML, CSS, JavaScript, PHP, and others. We follow the principles of web standards, web accessibility, web performance, and web security, to ensure the quality and reliability of your website.

Our Work Process

At Web Farm House, we follow a systematic and collaborative work process to create your website. Our work process consists of four main phases: Discovery, Design, Development, and Delivery:

Discovery: This is the phase where we get to know you and your project. We will ask you some questions about your goals, needs, preferences, budget, and timeline. We will also conduct some research on your industry, competitors, and target audience. Based on the information we gather, we will create a project proposal and a contract for you to review and approve.

Design: This is the phase where we create the visual and interactive elements of your website. We will start by creating a sitemap and a wireframe, which are the blueprints of your website’s structure and layout. We will then create a mockup, which is a prototype of your website’s appearance and functionality. We will present the mockup to you and ask for your feedback and approval. We will make any revisions as needed until you are satisfied with the design.

Development: This is the phase where we code and program your website. We will use the latest web development technology to create a website that is functional, reliable, and compatible with different devices and browsers. We will also test and debug your website to ensure its quality and performance. We will show you the progress of the development and ask for your feedback and approval.

Delivery: This is the final phase where we launch and maintain your website. We will upload your website to your chosen hosting service and domain name. We will also provide you with a user manual and a training session on how to use and update your website. We will also offer you ongoing support and maintenance services to keep your website running smoothly and securely.

We will also listen to your feedback and suggestions and make any changes as needed. We will work with you as a partner and a friend, not just as a client and a vendor. we value your input and satisfaction throughout the work process. We will communicate with you regularly and keep you updated on the status of your project.

Our Web Designing Services

Our is provides web design services for clients who want to create or improve their online presence. We help clients with various aspects of web designing, such as consultation, strategy, design, development, testing, launch, and maintenance:

Static web design

Liquid web design.

Adaptive web design.

Dynamic web design.

Responsive web design.

Single-page web design.

Why Choose Us?

We are a One-Stop Solution for delivering the best web design and development services. We render customized and affordable web design facilities to suit your requirements. Choose the best plans for building a responsive web design according to your needs:

Excellent technical support

Core PHP &Codeigniter + MySQL.

Secure and Reliable coding.

Satisfactory Customer Support.

SEO-friendly web development.

[mysteryanimator]

ANIMATION BREAKDOWN PROCESS OF THIS LETS GO (Sorry for any grammatical errors!)

SCRIPT/STORYBOARD: (you can watch here)

Now THIS. The script was very weak because I wanted to board immediately, so it started strong then fell off at the end (also generally I'm not a stronger writer, which haha fics my beloved). Now I know this, spending more time simmering with the script will genuinely only 1) stronger compositions for storyboards 2) it will be so much faster to board. Like I can board fast, but I can board fast AND well if I sit with the idea a bit longer. This will be a massive running theme how I like my shots earlier rather than further in.

side note I LIKE PANEL 11 A LOT, I just feeI didn't translate it well enough into animation which sucks because its a pretty panel and you get a softer moment from Olrox which I found was important to get across.

Also at some point, the 180 rule (which keeps characters on like one line behind the camera... not sure if I worded that right) gets broken and it bugged me for AGES but decided I had to just move on LOL.

These are my thumbnails b4 I go to animatic/cleaned storyboards which are SO MESSY (I'm a lot better at annotating my thumbs now LOL). The original prompt was top service blood bag x powerbottom vampire and i don't think i portrayed that well enough throughout BUT i think the intro did a good establishment. Which fun fact, this was scrapped but there was actually 20 seconds of Mizrak eyeing Olrox "What is it like? Blood?" Then Olrox leans down and commences the thigh glide.

These backgrounds are a mix of texture-bashing (walls/floors) along with some good ol' painting materials from scratch. Also, these are olddd and I can do a lot better yay, but was a good test to see how to make a consistent-ish scene.

ANIMATION: (You can watch the rough anim here)

I'll be super upfront how I don't like most of it AHHA. From starting this in July to posting this in September, I've improved a lot since then.

Since this was a bit ago, I don't remember too much but I remember going ham onto learning material from Dong Chang and animation servers. However in all honesty I think this was only really applied to the earlier shots. I got super frustrated with my "slow speed" so I tried to jump ship and do cleans super early on, which like lets be honest- pumping out two rough anims a day with uni on top is not slow idk what I was on about. This ended up giving me MORE work during the line/colour stage PFFT because I would end up correcting my mistakes in my roughs. Like Myst stop, this is for fun and you're learning, please take it easy LOLOL.

COMPOSITING:

Working on compositing this time around was slightly different, and I'll also admit it is not my favorite composite I've done (and again, I like my earlier shots then my later shots). My after-effects layers looked insane keeping track of the highlight glows on their clothes BUT it definitely paid off. Skin tones however were SO DIFFICULT (mostly in part to the fact I decided to experiment with how I approached it, so it definitely skewed how I worked with this)

I also definitely struggled between the dreamy look and keeping it clean and crisp, and while the dreamy blurred aesthetic does work in some cases, I opted out for the sake of clarity.

Beloved edge light my friend. It's making me learn SUPER late into it how I probably should have planned out a third shadow pass since edge light at the point is a crutch and I think planning it out ahead would get nicer more precise shadows LOL.

Because I brain rotted so hard for this animation I actually commissioned two people to help me work on this! I'll briefly talk about their stuff but please check out their work!

MUSIC: Astralbardkeep

Due the fact I don't have voiceactors, and I had a very specific vision in mind, I decided to go "you know what, let me be super self-indulgent". I had a lot of notes and inspirations for the music, BUT i wanted to have Olrox's theme from the original games peek through, which you will notice happens at the bite AND at the end.

TITLE CARD: Hataui0

This might've seemed overkill, but this friend of mine is very talented at making graphics/typography to suit the requirements of each individual project. (Also a secret ploy to make him make nocturne fanart /lh). So that entire end bit, he illustrated it along with that title, in which the themes I bestowed him were Mucha and Gothic art.

Thank you for reading if you got this far! Suffice to say this was supposed to be a compare and contrast between the animation I did in February, and while I may not quite find this body of work up to my normal standards, it substantial amount of improvement, which is the most important thing here! With the ten billion other things in my life going on, I can only be happy with the progress thus far :D

February on the left/September on the right

[whitefeathers]

daddy!billy drugging and noncon 😫😫🙏 telling his lil girl how good she is for him, taking her sweet little body and her virginity being lost to the man who created her ooomphhhhh

i like this idea with a butcher who knows he's your father, and an innocent reader who has no clue... this is a stream of horny thoughts disguised as a 1k word fic and it might be the worst thing ive ever written so. beware

content warning: non con, drugging, praise, manipulation, PURELY FICTIONAL AND NOT ROMANTICISING/PROMOTING, dad!billy butcher, fem!reader, age gap but reader is in her 20s and old enough to go to a bar, unprotected sex

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Your mother got knocked up by Butcher but never came clean about her affair, instead pretending it's her husband's baby. So you grow up, not realising that your dad isn't really your dad, and its instead your mom's friend Billy Butcher is your father. A dodgy guy, always up to some shady 'work', who you haven't seen in years. You used to have a crush on him. Something about the dangerous older man, bad boy thing.

Butcher's known you're his daughter the whole time. You have his temperament, his wit. Your mom also did a paternity test and kept it to herself and Billy, burying the truth so you could have a normal life.

Your 'dad' ends up leaving anyway, so it's all for nothing, really. Billy finds this out when he sees you again.

He's hiding out in a dive bar, somewhere away from the TV screens blasting out Vought slop. He notices you when you approach the bar to order. First as a cute girl, second as his daughter when he realises he knows you. He sparks up conversation with you, asks how you've been, toes the line between friendly, fatherly compliments and outright objectification.

"When did you get so big? All grown up now, aint'cha?" He says, staring directly at your tits but flicking his gaze back up to meet yours so fast you could swear you imagined it.

He buys you drink after drink - don't worry, it's my pleasure, he reassures you. You let his attention and the alcohol loosen you up, getting giggly and honest, telling Billy about your dad leaving when he asks how he is, accepting Billy's hand on your thigh as comfort as he tells you that if he was your father, he would never treat you like that. His tone is loaded, but you're too drunk to notice what a strange comment that was. Your next drink is a still fruity cocktail that comes fizzy. You don't think about that either, knocking it back to chase more of that fuzzy warmth that Butcher's attention and the tipsy buzz of his drinks gives you as he tells you about how your makeup makes you look like a pretty little slut.

Your vision starts to swim from what he put in your drink, so you don't process how forward his words are. Pretty and little simply ring in your head, and you dopily smile, your body suddenly feverishly hot and numb. You're quickly jelly in your chair, in limbo between consciousness and sleep, and Butcher carries you back to his car. Too much to drink, he tells the bartender, who raises an eyebrow. She's my daughter, she's a lightweight. I'll get her home safe. You don't have the capacity to be scared, not when everything is a blur of colours and shapes, of Butcher's musk and warmth as he carries you into his flat and lays you on the bed. He kisses your relaxed mouth and whispers things you can't process, not entirely. Your brain is a mush of discontinuous thoughts, partially reflective, partially in the moment as he strips you and praises how beautiful you are, his little girl.

You know that he didn't need to drug you. You would've gone willingly, spread your legs and begged, done anything you could to be good. Your 'father' leaving left a hole in your life that you're happy for an older man to fill by filling you. Butcher is strong, dependable, scary, manly. He's everything you need from a man in your life, and you distantly think you wish he was your father. No, no, that's fucked. Not while he's raping you, not while you're letting him. That thought brings you back to the present. You realise you're naked and Billy has his jeans unzipped, enough to let his cock spring free, his strong hands coming to spread your thighs apart and line himself up with your tight little cunt. "No..." you whine. Your voice feels a million miles away, like it's not coming from you. What the hell has he done to you? What the hell has he put in your drink?

"No?" Butcher parrots. "'S alright, princess. You're wet, look," he slides his tip through your folds, a slick squelch and glide that makes your clit twitch and hole throb unconsciously. "ya want this. You're bein' so good, don't ruin it by being a brat,"

You know he's right. He slides home inside you and stuffs you full like your cunt was made for him. You're suspiciously tight, gripping him like a warm, wet little hug, and he realises you're a virgin.

The knowledge and the tightness makes him tell you everything.

"You're my daughter, ya know, little one," he grunts out, cock drawing out just to hump back inside you, making you drool and whimper. Paternity tests, personality, even your matching birthmarks. He could prove it to you a million times over if he had to.

"My sperm made ya, I'm your daddy. So fuckin' hard to keep it a secret but ya know ya wouldn't want a father as much of a waster as me," he grunts, head falling back, keeping his rhythm. "I'm a bad man. But you're such a good girl, aren't you?" You're fucked out, zoned out, and borderline unconscious from the drugs and drink in your system, but his words strike a subconscious part of you that you've had dormant. You spread your legs willingly, mewling and arching, nodding lazily, eyes fluttered closed. "Thereee she is. Lettin' the man who created you take ya sweet cunt." he cuddles you in his arms, crushing you with his weight in a comforting blanket of masculinity, and pounds you. You finally lose consciousness, and only regain it the next day.

You don't remember a single thing, other than that you drank a lot and blacked out after a few drinks with Butcher. Billy tells you that he took you home after you begged him, and that's why you're cuddling in his bed - he tells you that you were such a good girl, and he babies you back to health from your 'hangover'.

He doesn't bring last night back up, and you're too silly and trusting to question your black out and decision to sleep with an older man.

His daughter is such a perfect little girl.

[avielex]

Ashes

[POV: Jordan / Professor Budd, twelve years after Protego Diabolica.]

Part 1 of 3

Part 2 || Part 3

I didn't think I'd have it happen to me.

Then again, there were many things I didn't think I'd have, about ten years ago.

Getting to teach an elective class was one of them. Getting a flat chest was another. Getting to have both things in the same lifetime and getting to enjoy my new everyday, though? Yes, each day is always going to be yet another test to how good these actually are (as I remember from experience, kids get bored fast), but I strive to say yes each time. Always.

Well, for an elective, kids sure get enthusiastic in my classroom, so I'd say it's been a yes from the soul for most of those days.

But I'm worried of having to say no.

"Look up here, everyone."

"In front of you will be a visual of which colour of Muggle fire will be for its heat level, from coolest to hottest. If at any point you see fire being produced by a Muggle devices and you see the hottest colour, please! Please keep away for the sake of your souls. And your pretty faces."

I heard a couple chuckles.

I'm not sure I remember the pipeline of thought I had prior to this lesson. It was going to be simple enough: The science of heat. The principles and interactions of that heat with other things. If wizards will setting fire to a lot of things for whatever reason, then I better give them a reason to consider the things fire can really do and be.

Blazing hot. Beautiful. But dangerous.

Much like the eyes of Mr. Gillebrand here, a fifth-year Slytherin — unwavering from every motion I made in front of the class. He's always been a pretty focused guy, perhaps occasionally tunnel-visioning into what he sees right, but his friends behind him there I could trust to give him a much-needed bonk here and there too.

Mr. Gillebrand — oh, it doesn't matter here, we're bloody friends — Trey's observant. Always been, maybe too much so. If anything, that day, he must've seen some sort of reason to watch me extra closely during that demonstration. And I hate to say it, but he might've had the right idea.

No. Not that.

He might've already had an idea.

"As we'd discussed in the lecture last time, we'd have to invert our perspectives of these colours when we look at natural or Muggle fire," I continued, in spite of Trey's gaze digging into my face. "What colour's our coldest again?"

A deep scarlet flame hovers at the tip of my wand. The class choruses "Red".

"Getting hotter."

An orange ember, with the chill colours of a sunset. Some people called it yellow, some orange. For some of the kids I noticed to have stayed silent, this would probably be one unfortunate way to find out you're colourblind.

"Hotter still."

A "Yellow" as golden as the softboiled yolks at the Great Hall's breakfast table.

"And hotter?"

As "White" as the wisps that trail off the tattered ends of our castle ghosts' long clothes.

"Right, at the center here," I said, pointing at the white center of the flame bursting from my wand. I flick it off with a wave, a little column of smoke ghosting from the tip of my wand as I continued to speak.

"Now, it's hard to find this hottest colour of fire in nature." I hold my wand out again. "I'd discussed before that fire needs fuel and oxygen to burn. That fuel can vary from wood to clothes to... really, a lot of things, including gas. Muggles have learnt to contain some of these gases as fuel for cooking, and the flame it produces at complete combustion is..."

I flicked my wand—

And that was where I had it happen to me.

[OC CREDITS, behind Trey: Azi (left) by @praxieserver , Leshi/Snakey (right) by @cindyvonotakuuwu ]

[gard3nias]

18| Opposites attract

⤎ previous page | ❃ | next page ⤏

wc: 5.59k

date: 15/11/2024

mdi // masterlist // playlist

—Now playing: R.I.P. 2 My Youth by The Neighbourhood ✫

"Daph? Are you there?" And there was silence. After what seemed like a trance founded on anxiety and heavy breaths, there was silence. Back to life. Back to reality. Or was it?

“Rhodes?” Her head was a cage with rubber walls, the type that allows words to bounce nonstop, the only right formula that can fuel her anxiety. They won’t come out nor stop popping up.

Daphne was in the bathroom, in a stall. Beneath her was the toilet with the lid closed and in front of her was the door behind which she’d just heard her friend’s voice. How long had she been there? Couldn’t have been too long, come on. She hadn’t cried that much, had she? Her tailbone wasn’t complaining about the discomfort it would feel when she sat on a hard surface for too long with her knees against her chest so it couldn’t be.

“Rhodes?” She didn’t verbally reply when her name was called, just got up, systemised her sweater a bit and went to the desk. When she was standing next to the teacher, she tried not to look at the colour of the pen he used to write her grade so her heart dropped out of her body nearly as hard as she did on her chair when she read the number in the top right corner.

Like a slot machine, the sadness on her face disappeared to show no reaction. Her brain behaved the same way but in the row were three equal numbers penned in red with Mr Keeley’s handwriting. Just as she’d made her way back to her desk, her feet moved one after the other almost robotically as they did when she walked out of the class, along the hallway to the bathroom and into a stall. 

Her hand reached for the lid, closed it after closing the door and sat on it before taking in a big breath and letting it all out, giving space for her brain to focus on what was next. Like fuel to an empty engine, the battery to a malfunctioning clock and the current through a wire. That was all she needed before her vision gradually blurred out, her eyes filled up and the pinching on her thighs got more intense. It took her no time to reach her height, climbing up the stairs to the maximum stress. The last drop of water sank into the filled cup and it overflew, dragging out sobs that she tried to muffle against her legs.

Maybe she needed this. Not the failure but certainly the venting out hence the surprise she felt when her ears caught something disrupting the echoing silence of the bathroom. It wasn’t entirely surprising on its own: it’s a school bathroom, people are expected to walk in whenever they want and do whatever they want; it wouldn’t have stopped her from crying. She’s behind the door of a stall, her feet are on the toilet and certainly no one could recognise her just from the sound of her weeping.

“Daph?” The voice was a wake-up call, the necessary to have her snap back to reality and out of the virulent world her mind was easing its way to.

“Y-yeah?” Her voice was there—somewhere, very tiny but present and she didn’t forget it in the toxic dimension. Her hands moved to wipe the tears away before she could even register, muscle memory.

“You okay?” It wasn’t official but Daphne’s brain’s favourite activity was overthinking but not enough to have a prepared answer to such a simple question, maybe a bot response. 

Was she okay? Objectively, no. Subjectively? She had to be: she had wrongly planned her study schedule and underestimated the physics topic which caused her to make so many stupid and little mistakes that weighed a lot in the final grade. The number penned in red was a six and a minus following which meant she didn’t pass it—its real value was 5.75, not a full six. It was expected after prioritising that stupid physics topic about light. The topic of this test was easy and quick to understand with common sense so it didn’t scare her and she studied it superficially.

Cleo didn’t know this as she waited for a reply behind the stall door. It eventually came but non-verbal: Daphne came out after trying her best to conceal the traces of a potential anxiety attack that she was about to go through.

“Hey.” That was the only word she said and Cleo checked her to find a better answer from her body language. “I— erm, what are you doing here?”

“I was worried so I came to check on you.” Daphne’s hands fiddled with anything they came in contact with, her jeans, nails, hair, the sleeves and the bottom edge of her sweater because she didn’t know how to act. She didn’t want to behave like the last time, making her friends feel obliged to organise a whole picnic for her, no. She had to force herself to forget about school that day despite wanting to cry out like a baby. She couldn’t lie though: Cleo’s scrutinising eyes made her feel slightly uncomfortable and, back there, she really wanted to ball her eyes out and set free the dark feelings clouding her brain and sending it into system malfunction. Let the dark tears roll down her cheeks, land on her sweater and even soak it up. She didn’t care as long as they were out of her body. The sweater could be restored after a quick trip to Washing Machine and Dryer.

“And I wanted to tell you that is nothing serious. You can easily retake the test—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know that but that’s… not the problem. I’m just—” Her words got stuck in her throat maybe with the sobs she wanted to release before. Running away from Cleo’s inspecting eyes, she went to the sink to wash her hands and rub her eyes without caring about proving Cleo’s suspicions or not. The bathroom was silent as she did her thing and Cleo stood beside her with arms crossed and a worried look all across her face, one Daphne tried to avoid as she looked at her reflection in the mirror.

Cleo didn’t fail the test. On the top corner of her sheet was a bright red seven so she was surprised to see that Daphne failed hers. Yes, it wasn’t so far away from passing the test but she’d found the topic so easy that she expected someone like Daphne to get a grade way higher than hers—like Asher did since he had got a 9.5. Clearly, all these thoughts and hopes were not to be mentioned to her friend. Failure happens sometimes, one just has to accept it and learn from it.

“I didn’t plan my study well and prioritised the other topic above this so I don’t really feel bad about the grade, y’know. It was kind of expected. Physics just sucks, I guess.” Her tone was as cold as the water dripping from her fingers into the sink and Cleo felt it without knowing how to warm it up. She just had to accept it as they returned to the classroom. Luckily for Daphne, the bell had rung for the break to begin so no eyes were too focused on her when she stepped back inside.

Her demeanour may be matching in temperature with the breeze blowing outside her school but maybe it would’ve warmed up if only she had met the pair of eyes wandering around the hallway looking for hers. Even with glasses on, he couldn’t find her.

Are Wednesdays always this bad?

—Now playing: $TING by The Neighbourhood ✫

It was another of the seemingly everlasting series of cloudy but bright autumn days. The sunlight didn’t warm anything up, overpowered by the slicing and chilly breeze that blew from the clouds to Daphne against her face, through her hair to her neck and against her jean-covered legs.

Her feet moved one after the other in the warm comfort of her mini-platform sheepskin boots. The pair of jeans she wore wasn’t anything special, as was the sweater underneath her thick jacket. Around her neck was a scarf that struggled to cover her as much as she wanted.

The direction she was headed caused her to walk against the draft. Her nose quickly caught a warmer shade while her hair blew towards the direction her friends had taken as they went home. Her destination was the library, her second home at this point. In no time, she’d become a regular there, so much so that the receptionist knew her and greeted her with a smile whenever she came in and went out. They knew she always walked past the building to the nearby bakery, grabbed something to eat and returned to eat it on the stairs before finally heading inside.

The little teenager peacefully ate her piece of pizza with her headphones working as earmuffs and sat in a position that implied she was feeling a bit cold. Anyone looking outside from inside the building would wonder why she wouldn’t eat inside but it was a simple choice she’d made and wasn’t bothered about. She felt like the library was a place to be kept clean—even when she was inside and wanted a snack from the vending machine, she would eat it outside the study zone.

Finally, she finished having her lunch and grabbed all her belongings to go inside. Waving at the receptionist, she walked straight to the elevators and went up to the study zone where her favourite spot sat empty, waiting for her to occupy it. As if she were in a moving vehicle, she liked sitting next to the window because it helped her concentrate, she enjoyed the natural light and it allowed her to keep track of time without always having to check her phone.

She loved hearing how silent the library was unlike outside where the town was blooming with noise. Specifically, the study zone felt like a capsule of its own where the commotion decreased even further and, willing to hear it, she always turned the music off and pulled her headphones down.

One hand was in her pocket while the other held her phone and Daphne walked through the oh-so-familiar space, heading straight to her usual spot. Another advantage of it was that it was secluded, a spot pretty hidden, one that you reach only if you patiently walk around the library in search of something new instead of settling down in the first ones you see when you step inside. The way leading there resembled a labyrinth outlined by rows of bookshelves.

As she approached it, the number of people she saw reduced until there were barely any. The table she always sits at welcomes three chairs on both sides and she always picks the closest one to the window. Next to it, forming aisles in the library, was a second and a third table, barely two meters away from each other. 

Sitting in the centre of the wide table was a wooden divider against a socket to which Daphne connected the charger of her iPad. Her school bag leaned against the leg of the table and her jacket hugged the backrest of the chair when she went to look for physics books to study with. 

Failing the test didn’t hurt as much as the other time because she realised the fault was on her for not planning her studies better and neglecting the latest topic. After all, it seemed easy and maybe that was the problem. Her friends had already told her that since she didn’t fail badly, Mr Keeley would test her orally on the topic so she wouldn’t have to retake the test fully. Those words didn’t comfort her because studying wasn’t hard for her, especially once she planned how to use her time perfectly. This time, it was a slip-up that wouldn’t happen again hence the numerous physics books painfully sitting in her arms as she returned to her seat not without struggling between carrying the weight and trying not to have everything fall and cause a rumble of noise all through the peaceful library.

She placed the pile in a corner to make herself comfortable before opening the first one, her digital notebook and diving into the activity, headphones on, soft music playing and legs crossed.

—Now playing: Sad Girl by Lana Del Rey ✫

According to the receptionist, the opening and closing of the library doors could be equated to club doors with the only difference being the origin of the noise which in this case came from outside. Along with the noise came a hot breeze during summer and a cold one in autumn and winter. With a smile and a little greeting, their job was back on pause while Taehyung proceeded towards the elevators. 

He didn’t hesitate before unzipping his jacket as the library’s warmth was already getting to him. By the time the lift tinged and opened, it would be thrown across his arm while the other held his backpack. He ruffled his hair as he casually walked into the study zone. Around his neck were his headphones and sitting on his nose were his new companions, for the time being—his glasses.  

His schedule was packed which wasn’t unusual but because of the campaign, he felt like it was the end of the world and weighed on him like a mansion. He barely paid any attention as he walked through the room towards his self-assigned position but froze when his eyes landed on it and saw it occupied. It had been long since he last came to the library to study but he felt it could never be long enough for anyone to dig this deep in the library because the first tables right at the entrance were never fully occupied.

He stood in the little lane separating the two wide tables away from the window, the third one was where she was. He blinked a few times to be sure he wasn’t hallucinating but soon came to his senses and decided to sit at the third table, on the polar opposite, making them on the same side but multiple chairs away.

He plopped on the chair and let his backpack slide onto the floor as he watched her and thought of what he could do. He wondered if he should sit at the same table as hers or greet her but she looked so focused on whatever she was studying and it felt illegal to disturb her. He even believed she was in a similar situation as his because of the pile of books on the table which reminded him not to get distracted so, reluctantly, he decided to mind his business and study. He kept his backpack and his jacket on the empty chair next to him before taking his books out.

—Now playing: Single by The Neighbourhood ✫

Late Afternoon rolled around. Came by as quickly as it left so Evening could step in. The artificial lights carved into the ceiling of the library seemed to shine brighter against the darkness that penetrated from outside into the building. 

Closing hours were approaching while the number of students progressively reduced, turning the main area of the study zone similar to the secluded one where Daphne and Taehyung spent their afternoon studying.

Having to answer duty’s call, Taehyung couldn’t indulge in his brain’s favourite activity but it still tried to sneak it in as best as it could. Studying technically next to Daphne made him seem like he’d come there to play. She would barely lift her head off her book. Her body was always living in the best comfort because she never stretched and barely changed positions. He, on the other hand, had had multiple breaks when he’d go for a walk in the building or through bookshelves, go out for a smoke or get himself a little treat at the vending machines. Her only form of distraction if one could call it that, was drinking from the water bottle next to her.

He was amazed, there was no other way to put it but in his amazement, he just mentally complimented her and packed his things. He couldn’t do it as she, never—since he had to follow the Pomodoro technique and have at least two breaks in one hour—and, therefore, he got up to look for a little book he could read to come out of the focus session he was in fully minutes ago. His mind couldn’t even picture himself in her shoes because he could never be focused for that long especially considering all that the past weeks have been for him.

Visibly, Daphne seemed not to care about his unspoken thoughts. She just went on with her life and her activity for a few more minutes after he’d left before she decided it was time to start packing everything up. She removed the charger from the socket, placed all her school supplies in her pencil case, and when all of her belongings were in her backpack, she finally got up and took the pile of books to be kept back.

She was physically and mentally tired at that point and every inch of her body was laced with impatience to return the books to their spots and rush home quickly. They say patience is a gift and yes, she’d received it but maybe had left it at home that day. Curse words flew out of her mouth one after the other like the wagons of a train when the book sitting on top of the pile made her go through several stages of distress: it kept moving to one side which she tried to contrast but eventually failed when it tipped over; to prevent it from slamming flat on the floor and sounding like a titan had just slammed someone, she used her foot to stop the impact or, better, to feel the impact. 

“Ouch! Fuck!” Her frustration could be heard even in the soft whispering and Taehyung did. He was walking along the way separating the windows from the rows of bookshelves and he was just about to walk past her when he heard her.

“Need some help there?” He asked the question and he answered it without giving her the time to even understand who was speaking to her. He slammed his book shut without checking what page he’d reached and, after placing it on a nearby shelf, he crouched to pick the book up. Daphne was still stunned and suddenly the weight in her hands ceased to exist both because her mind stopped thinking about it and also because he’d collected the whole pile from her.

Clearing her voice, she finally replied, “Erm, thank you.” From his body language, she understood that he didn’t mind about it so she simply silently walked behind him. He already knew his way around and where the books belonged so she stopped trying to show him the directions after he anticipated her words a couple of times. When they were at the right section, she hurried to collect the books from him and place them in their right spot. Only once they were done did they finally stand to face each other.

“Thank you, again,” she chuckled. 

“It’s nothing really.” She nodded and smiled. Her eyes stared at his for a split second before they started wandering around. He tilted his head and asked, “Daphne, right?” with a wider smile, she nodded even more eagerly.

“Yeah and… you’re Taehyung,” he chuckled and nodded as well. Objectively, it could just look like a couple of teenagers remembering each other’s names after just one encounter. How cute. How lovely. Who wouldn’t want to be in their shoes? The only thing was that they were both oblivious to the fact that they remembered each other’s name not from that one night but from social media stalking and daydreams that go way back to before the party.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you knew your way around so well— which is completely stupid because you have lived here since you can remember. Sorry, I’m so dumb,”

“Oh, no, you’re not and I don’t blame you. It’s been so long since I stepped foot in here, especially after the campaign and all that shit.” Unconsciously, they started walking back to their spots, she with her arms crossed in front of her chest while he with his hands in his jeans pockets.

“I bet that was a whole rollercoaster ride,”

“It was worse, way worse than what I could have ever expected. Thank God it’s the first and last time I’m doing something like that. I hated it so bad,”

“But where do you think the real struggle lies? In the preparation or when you actually get elected?” He just chuckled at her words, head turning to look at her. 

“Why is everyone so sure we’ll get elected?” 

Her facial expressions anticipated her words, “I mean, I don’t really know much of it but from what I’ve been told, y’all are very influential around here so it’s already been predicted since day one. You wouldn’t want to be elected anyway?”

He sighed, “I don’t know really. I joined only because my friend wanted to do it and I didn’t want to hold her back from it, besides, she was and still is kind of relying on us to be part of her team so...”

They stopped at her spot first as they continued talking. Once Daphne had packed her stuff and wore her jacket, they walked to his spot and she waited for him to get his things before they left together, walking past the handful of people working on their books or their devices and the ones packing their things to leave. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open only to slide back close once they were in and pressed on the number zero. He leaned against the wall facing the doors while she against the one opposite the buttons.

“So… you were studying physics all this while?” he broke the silence. 

“Yeah. I’m in a bit of a crisis right now,”

“So much that you needed so many books?” he laughed and she laughed too, nodding and getting slightly shy. “We’ve done only two tests so far and I failed both of them so yeah… I think I need that many books.” 

Taehyung’s facial expression spoke volumes, going from surprise to confusion all with a smile on and it amused her. “You failed both? Were they so hard?”

“Not necessarily. The second one was easy but I failed it because I didn’t study well since I was focused on the topic of the first one. I don’t even know if I can say that it’s hard. I could be just a dumb person of my own but that shit’s ass and I just don’t get it so yeah, I was studying so much for that one and barely reserved any time for the other one. Ass.” Taehyung laughed, the elevator dinged and they came out.

The ground floor was even emptier. The children's section and the cafeteria were already closed and some cleaners were already sweeping the floors. “Have a good evening,” from their little cubicle, the receptionist greeted them, the teenagers waved back and exited the noise-cancelling building to venture into the blast outside. 

Cars honked and rumbled from the end of the street where the town centre was. Taehyung’s hands were still in his pocket while Daphne held her phone with which she checked what time the bus would arrive at the terminal in front of their school so the two were silently walking next to each other on the sidewalk. 

He didn’t like the silence but he couldn’t lie and say that her distraction wasn’t allowing him to look at her like a kid looks at fireworks on New Year’s night. Around her neck was a thick scarf she tried to hide her face into. The draft had changed direction and was now blowing from the town into the street they walked in. The jacket she was wearing was so big that her hands were barely out. Her nails were covered in cherry red polish and some of her fingers were in golden rings. He couldn’t fully see her side profile despite the small distance between them because her bangs were covering it whenever the breeze didn’t blow harshly. 

“Your physics teacher allows you to retake the tests right?” He spoke first to fill up the space between them.

“Yeah”

“And when are they?”

“Erm, the ass topic one is in two Wednesdays while the easier one is in mid-December.” He internally rejoiced when her phone was slipped back into her pocket and she looked up at him as she spoke. If her eyes liked wandering around, his liked to catch every little detail that brought her face to life. It’s not the first time he’s seen pretty girls, pretty people in general, but it was the first time it had him like this. There was just something about her that he couldn’t just shrug off his shoulders—he didn’t want to anyway.

“Why so far away? When did you take the tests?” As he asked the question, he wondered if silence had run through from when she spoke. Don’t be harsh on him. He recalls that the last he was looking at her face, he lost track of time.

“I don’t know why. The teacher’s an asshole. The first test was above a month ago while the second one was last week. He had a reason only for the first one since almost the whole class failed it,”

“Goddamn! Almost the whole class?” She nodded. Gradually, they made their way out of the library’s street and into town where the closest bus stop was the one after the terminal.

“I think the topic is that hard. I still don’t fully get it and I started studying it intensely before the first test and now I’m locked in even harder.” Taehyung chuckled and waited for them to cross the street and walk onto the bus stop before he spoke again.

“You know? I could help you if you want… with physics” Daphne’s eyes widened for a split second as she sat on the empty bench, hands still in her pocket because of the chilly weather. Even in a thousand light years to come, she’d never be able to put into words what was going on within her guts when he said those words. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, besides, you’re a junior and I’m a senior so I’ve already gone through the topics last year,” As he spoke his back rested against the pillar holding the sheltering surface above his head.

“But I don’t want to bother you. I think you already have enough on your plate,”

“Oh, don’t worry. You’re not bothering me. I’m the one who offered and my plate is pretty wide. Enough is never enough” he chuckled, getting lost in the way the streetlights glittered in her eyes. What enchanted him the most was her smile. Daphne didn’t know the effects it had on him.

She giggled and replied, “If you say so”. His smile broadened and he tried to hold it back by biting his lip but obviously failed. Daphne didn’t have enough time to admire how good he looked, how his hair swayed with the wind, how he was standing or how the tip of his nose was getting redder with the cold before the bus arrived and they had to get on.

Just like that Tuesday evening after training at the school gym, the bus was practically empty and one could only see the reflection of the inside when trying to look outside. As usual, they made a beeline to the back where they could comfortably sit next to each other. She led the way and he meekly followed.

Not surprisingly, Daphne sat right next to the window: He sat right next to her, leaving no empty seats in between. She believed it to be a great change, especially since she hadn’t seen him on the bus for a long time. 

Luckily for them, the heater was on so they could warm up after walking in the chilly environment that was outside. She took her jacket off and he helped her keep it and her bag next to him on the empty seat.

“Anyway, what are the topics?” he restarted. “The first one was about light and the second about sound.”

“Light and sound, huh? Which one do you find hardest to understand?” as he spoke, he leaned back against the headrest, hands still in his pocket, and turned to look at her without the rest of his body budging.

“The first certainly.” He chuckled again. It’s all he’s been doing for the whole while because he didn’t know which other subtle way he could use to express the crazy happiness within his guts. Sorry, he had to let it out somehow. “You got any notes?”

“What? You think I don’t?” as he chuckled, his Adam’s apple bopped. She laughed, shook her head and cleared the misunderstanding, “No, no, that’s not what I meant and you know it,” the way he looked was making her shy. Maybe he could get it, maybe not, but her eyes started wandering around like the ones of a lost puppy again.

“Mmh hmm.” She rolled her eyes and he laughed, head turning back up to face the ceiling.

“When would it start?” There was no need to look outside. A prettier view was right next to her and the contrast between the darkness of the evening and the lights inside made it impossible for her to see anything unless she glued her face to the windows.

“Whenever you want.” He didn’t look at her as he replied this time because he soon had to come down from the bus—he was about to get lost in her sparkling eyes and pretty smile and forget about his other plans.

“Oh, my God. I almost forgot. I’m staying at my friend’s tonight because he’s just in deep shit as I am after the campaign so I’m coming down at the next bus stop.” Thank goodness he remembered ‘cause only God knows how he would’ve had to explain to Jimin why he forgot to go to his place: “So, you see… I was talking to this very pretty girl, you know the new one in town, the one I met at the party and never told you about, the brunette with sparkling eyes, a fine ass body and a deadly but stunning smile? The one in junior year. Yeah, that one. I think I have a crush on her, a huge, fat, no, obese, astronomical, titanic, humongous crush on her, yes, and she drives me crazy, fucking insane so much so I become dumb next to her. Literally dumb. It’s already a lot I can talk to her, form coherent sentences in my head and not slur my words so yeah, that’s why I forgot to come help you. Please, find it in your heart to forgive me.” Would that work? Who knows. Regardless, he would never say it. Not to him at least but certainly to his reflection in the mirror once he gets back home and reminisces this day.

“Oh.” Two simple letters with barely any meaning but they held so much disappointment. Again, the party had to be ended too soon. Why was it always when the two of them were talking? If only he actually caught the tone she spoke with, he would have certainly texted Jimin telling him he couldn’t make it and spend the rest of the ride next to her.

“Here,” he spoke a little while after and let his actions finish the sentence as he placed his phone in front of her. On the screen was a dialling pad. She did everything within her body not to smile like an idiot, took the phone in her hands and typed in her phone number. Smooth like butter.

“Here you go,” maybe he was hallucinating again—which wouldn’t be surprising—but there was something in the way she said that that had him double-checking her for any special facial expressions but, as expected, she didn’t even look his way—wandering eyes—and he smiled before saving her contact. Was it joy? Shyness? He didn’t know. Better not be, not now, else he would literally lose his shit and have the driver stomp on the brake once he’d hear him scream.

“Well, I guess we’ll see each other soon then,” she nodded and watched him as he took his bag, slung it across his shoulder and headed towards the closest door. 

Pressing on the red button, a sound dinged through the bus and moments later, the vehicle stopped and the doors slid open. She waved at him and he waved back right before coming down from the bus at El Grillo’s bus stop. Doors closed and finally, she allowed herself to express some of her happiness by squirming and squealing in her seat. Moments later, when her phone dinged and a notification came in, she’d wish she were at home, on her bed and rolling on it.

Unknown number: you tell me when and we start

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[look-a-yandere-fandom-blog]

Reader tried to break into Moira's lab but ended up messing up something which led them to get injured and caught.

They thought they were ready for anything but turns to their surprise the doctor seems to have taken a sort of liking in them.

Reader is not sure if it's better or worse than simply being treated like a spy.

(Yes the Overwatch one. Sorry I wasn't aware that there were others with the same name among your fanchises as I'm only familiar with OW.)

Break-In | Oneshot

Moira O’Deorain / Gender Neutral Reader

Fandom: Overwatch 

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Ambiguous yan - can be read as platonic or romantic.

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Content Warning: Injury detail, blood, implied obsession, Moira being condescending as hell (so pretty much how she usually acts).

(If there’s anything else I need to add to these warnings, please let me know.)

Thank you for the ask anon, and also thanks for the additional clarification! Moira’s always been a fave of mine, so this was super fun to write! (outside of tumblr glitching out and not letting me save to my drafts haha)

_________________________________

The job was simple.

Get in.

Steal the vial.

Get out.

What was in the vial?

To be honest, you had no idea.

The mission brief was the same as the previous two, so you didn't pay much attention.

You knew the drill, having worked alongside Overwatch for a few months now. You weren't exactly a member of the group, but your knack for infiltration led to you being roped into a few assignments here and there.

These missions allowed you to stretch your wings: they gave you a chance to hone your skills in the field, without being limited by the security of a simulation or training program. Every mistake would cost something, every slip-up would eat away precious time. This was the real deal; which made every victory that much sweeter.

And apparently, your actions helped prevent an array of nefarious plots from being carried out. That's a nice bonus. So, despite the little pay, it's not the worst gig you've had. 

You start to climb through the lab's window carefully. The alarm was easily disabled during your first mission here, and, after a quick check, you confirm that it's still inactive. 

The security here must be pretty lousy to not have fixed the alarm, you think. And even lousier to not have noticed it’s deactivation. It’s weird… as you remember the brief saying this was a pretty high-tech place. High budget. Higher-profile investors. Fancy gadgets and all that. 

But, if it saves you from having to find another way in, you’ll take advantage of their ignorance. 

You swing your legs over the window frame, setting yourself down on the tiled floor of the laboratory. The room was meticulous, as always. Its occupant must be the diligent type. 

Test tubes, chemicals, and strange-looking contraptions that you couldn’t even try to guess the purpose of are dotted about the room. They’re kept in organised groups, neatly distributed on the lab’s countertops. 

It’s spotless. Shiny. Blinking lights of green, blue, and red reflect off the countertops’ dull steel. The garish gleam of artificial colour bounces off the edge of every surface, lining corners and curves while the rest of their forms remain shrouded in darkness. 

You tread the room carefully, eyes trained in their search for any new cameras or alarms. It doesn’t matter if they catch you on film, as long as you can escape before they alert any guards. 

After a few moments, you see movement on the edge of your peripheral vision. A camera is lodged in the corner of the room, attached to the ceiling, panning back and forth blindly. The hunk of metal is indifferent to you, continuing its monotonous loop.  

So there have been changes since your last visit. And with it, a chance someone could be watching you. 

But you’re already in. It’d be a waste to back out now. 

Swiftly, you start to rifle through cabinets, through drawers, searching for that vial. Intel had given a vague description: it being rather small, glass, easy to miss, and containing a purple fluid. They couldn’t get much more on it, the lab’s owner intent on keeping most others out. 

The name of its owner continues to elude you. It was mentioned during the first mission’s brief. Upon hearing it, those attending alongside you gave each other concerned glances, but you didn’t pay much mind, focused instead on memorising the building’s layout. It didn’t much matter to you who worked here, only if you could get in. 

Then, finally, you spot it. Tucked away in a corner of a cabinet. Just a little too high for you to reach. 

Damnit. 

You shift to stand on the tips of your toes, leaning on the countertop to keep yourself steady, as you reach up. Your fingertips grasp at nothing, while your thoughts are occupied with prayers that you don’t knock the cursed thing further back. 

Almost, almost, then…

Pain. 

Sharpness tears into you. Air knocked out of your lungs. You look down. 

A trap digs into your leg. Rippling patterns upon it as it strives to blend into the floor. Cloaking technology. Near-invisible until activated. 

Your vision blurs. Adrenaline fogging up your sight. Like smoke filling an enclosed space. Choking. Inescapable. 

It does nothing to dispel the sting. Agony biting into your leg as you sink to the floor, trying to pry your limb from the trap. But every movement only makes the injury worse. 

Blood, your blood, glints with blaring colours. Green. Blue. Red. 

Red coats your hands, making the attempt to free yourself clumsy. Blood pools atop the pale-tiled floor. It gathers in the shallow channels between each tile. Flowing like rivers from their human source. 

Gritting your teeth, your heartbeat pounds in your ears.

You can’t hear the sound of a door opening, nor that of footsteps stepping closer. 

You can’t see the figure approaching. Assured. Confident. Striding close with an aura of victory. A hunter returning to their snare. 

Their outline shifts into focus. Faint colours saturated by the blinking lights of the lab. Red hair. Black shirt. Purple tie. The details fade in and out. It's all blots and blotches and assumptions. 

Then, the figure crouches down right in front of you. 

She is right in front of you.

“Awh…” She coos, condescension falling from her lips in waves.

"Aren't you just pathetic..?"

A hand emerges from the haze. It rests upon your face, thumb and forefinger along your cheekbone, ring finger against your jaw. 

"Did you really believe you could fool me thrice, little thief?”

Your hand fumbles to hers, trying to push it away. Blood smears across her pale skin as she chuckles. Words rise in your throat, but are smothered by your lung’s ragged breaths.

“Marvellous contraption, isn’t it?” She continues in her rhetorical speech, knowing that you’re in no state to reply. Her hand trails down to your injured leg, nails brushing against your punctured skin, captivated and cruel. You look down to the trap, its blurry outline barely visible. 

“One of Sombra’s works. Remotely activated, imperceptible, and immobilising.”

“While the disorientation-” She grabs your chin, suddenly yanking your head back up. Eye to eye. “That is thanks to something of mine.” 

“In fact, it’s what you came here for. Laced along the points. Distilled, of course. I wouldn’t want you to be… permanently afflicted by it.” Your vision swims, your surroundings fading in and out. Her face remains the only constant, the only thing your cloudy eyes can keep their focus on. 

Then, even that begins to fade… your eyelids feeling heavier by the second. Falling closed, despite your efforts to keep them open, prompting another laugh from her. 

“There’s no point in fighting, little thief. You wouldn’t make it far regardless.” Amusement fills her voice. You both know that there’s no escape for you here. Not now. With this concoction in your system, and this metal jammed into your leg. 

No escape… no way out…

As you slip away… into the unknown of unconsciousness… the last thing you see is her face… mismatched eyes glinting in the blinking lights of the lab.  _________________________________

[zombiecicada]

Running program and loading document.

Security bypassed.

Upload complete!

Document of specimen designated ‘Subject #42’

Case Number: 19.15.21.12

Date: REDACTED

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1: Subject #42’s Eyes

Subject #42 has large forward facing eyes, its pupils can easily expand and shrink to account for glare or near total darkness. The sclera of the eyes are vibrant yellow. This was later concluded to be due to having high levels of some bilirubin adjacent chemicals within the body.

Originally, it was assumed Subject #42 was suffering from liver failure, but further examination and blood tests revealed such was far from the truth. Whereas that much bilirubin in a red blood celled organism would be a sign of toxicity, because Subject #42 does not have red iron based blood, these high levels of bilirubin do not strip away or break down the blood cells. Instead of causing toxicity, it’s a natural antioxidant.

Subject #42’s eyes appear to have entered a near constant state of myosis, even in low lighting.

———————————————————————

2: Subject #42’s wings

Subject #42 has broad webbed wings that suggest an adaptation for long periods of non stop flight over vast distances.

Such an hypothesis was confirmed reviewing the observation notes of Subject #42 traveling vast distances prior to its capture. Subject #42’s wings were bound with cold iron cuffs shortly after its capture. While Subject #42 later outsmarted the attempts to restrict its ability to fly by simply using its abilities to levitate, the cuffs serve as a successful means to stop it from phasing through the walls of its containment unit.

The second finger of Subject #42’s wings are covered in small, aged scars along the whole length of the limb. The patterns and depth of the scars are consistent with wounds received from scraping against rocks and deflecting debris with the limbs. Subject #42 will swing its talons around like weapons with remarkable precision.

———————————————————————

3: Subject #42’s teeth and mouth

Armed with impressively developed canine teeth and a pointed, papillae covered tongue, Subject #42’s diet is primarily that of a hypercarnivore.

This has lead Doctor Cruce to hypothesize that Subject #42 might have been following the armed forces to feed on the bodies of the casualties produced by the conflict. Subject #42 does share some characteristics of scavengers, such as strong jaws and sharp teeth, but the metabolic cost of traveling such far distances, alongside its abilities, claws and the sword it was found wielding suggests that Subject #42 would likely or primarily have hunted opposed to scavenged. And yet, there was no reports of Subject #42 hunting anything prior to its capture.

The blue colouration comes from the subject’s blue blood, being copper based instead of iron based and highly oxygen efficient. An endurance test concluded Subject #42 can go almost four hours without breathing, suggesting Subject #42 comes from a low oxygen environment where it pays to be able to make the most of the little oxygen available. However, it seems to be perfectly fine in environments of standard 21% oxygen levels.

———————————————————————

4: Subject #42’s paws and forelimbs

Everything about Subject #42’s paws and forelimbs suggests it is a highly efficient climber. It has tough palms, strong claws for grip, an abundance of collagen within its body, and well developed tendons and ligaments.

A test concluded that with ease it can swiftly scale up vertical walls, alongside being highly oxygen efficient, it does not tire easily, leading Doctor Cruce to suggest Subject #42 might’ve evolved in a rocky, mountainous environment.

———————————————————————

5: Subject #42’s standard vision

A vision test conducted on Subject #42 determined it has remarkably clear long distance vision, able to spot small movements and small details from over several hundred feet of distance.

It can see a wide range of colours and in various levels of lighting.

Interestingly enough, it is badly nearsighted, seeming to have put all its points towards seeing very far instead of close up.

When Subject #42’s powers are activated, its eyes go fully lavender in colour and light up in a bioluminescent display.

—————————————————————————————————————

6: Subject #42’s ‘soul vision’

Finally approaching Subject #42’s bizarrely dare say otherworldly powers, hooking up various scanners and devices to Subject #42 to scan its brain Doctor Cruce discovered Subject #42 has an ‘alternate vision’ that she’s come to dub ‘soul vision’. When activated, Subject #42’s retinas stop perceiving light entirely, instead seeing a vast spectrum of the electromagnetic wave length that shows up to Subject #42 in various ‘colours’ and shapes.

While it took a bit of trial and error, it was discovered that people who have what’s been commonly dubbed a ‘soul’ will show up to this alternate vision as a figure with white eyes. Anything without a soul, be it people or objects, will be entirely invisible to Subject #42 during this time. It seems to be able to toggle back and forth between these two modes of vision at will.

Currently, it is unknown if the ‘colours’ that show up have different meanings. Subject #42 continues to show no ability and or interest in answering any questions that are asked of it.

—————————————————————————————————————

7: Further manifestations of Subject #42’s ‘soul magic’

Subject #42 is highly proficient in the use of its magic. It appears capable of instantly and immediately telling if something with a soul approaches it, even through walls and when its vision is restricted, suggesting the soul vision might be able to see through solid objects and see a remarkable distance away.

Alternatively, it may just be a sense that Subject #42 has passively.

When focused, this soul magic can form highly energetic lasers (resulting in biweekly maintenance required to Subject #42’s containment unit), an energy field around itself, and various other high energy attacks.

Subject #42 has a large quantity of energy within it, which it appears to get by steadily absorbing the lifeforce of everything around it.

Subject #42 has a large quantity of energy within it, which it appears to get by steadily absorbing the lifeforce of everything around it.

While it initially caused concern and almost led to the immediate order to terminate Subject #42, Doctor Cruce confirmed at the time that Subject #42 does not appear capable of doing this to such an extent that it would cause death or noticeable symptoms, quote ‘it's not taking from you anymore than the rate of you already naturally dying’. This statement was later retracted when, during a test, Subject #42 killed a test subject by simply touching it, examination to the body shows no wounds or signs of bodily trauma. It appears that Subject #42 instantly killed the fellow subject by removing its life force.

Doctor Cruce now believes that Subject #42 can indeed at any time rapidly and fatally absorb the life force of another being, but must come in contact with it first. For safety precautions, and yet another complaint from maintenance, Subject #42 was later moved to be held in stasis.

Up until that point Subject #42 had simply been very aloof and standoffish, during its final moments before being put in stasis it seemed to enter a state of hysteria, repeatedly calling out for something or someone.

—————————————————————————————————————

There are still many unanswered questions regarding Subject #42, such as the unnatural origins of its abilities and its origins in general.

Doctor Cruce’s conclusion is that it would benefit Nightmare Enterprises to make demonbeasts using Subject #42’s DNA.

However, she stressed a high deal of caution and time to conduct further research before proceeding with any attempts to make new monsters.

Subject #42’s highly unpredictable nature and abilities could lead to the creation of a monster far worse than it that could be impossible to contain that could become an unimaginable threat to the company, especially if it escaped and got into the wrong hands.

(END OF LOG)