#maybe a bit more shriveled than average

[canisalbus]

I love how in the chibi versions Vasco looks like a normal dog, perhaps a puppy and Machete looks like he'll shrivel up and die at any given time

.

[aggressiveviking]

cabbage stew the way i make it

If you ask me why am making this a huge post with pictures, i don't have an answer 😂 just want to share it with a friend

So we start off with the cabbage, obviously. For this I can use fresh or fermented/pickled cabbage. in this picture im using fermented cabbage. Cut it up any way you like it (also I remove the middle stem but it's edible even if u leave it in). This is how I do it.

You get your pot. I usually fill half of it with cabbage, or a lil bit over half cause u don't want it to overflow when it starts to cook. Like so.

If your cabbage is fresh then this amount would shrink up to at least half. As this one is fermented its already shriveled up and it's as much as it would be by the end.

Then you can put some pork, chopped in pieces. You can choose how much or even if you want meat in it. Its still nice even without meat.

It nicer to put in fattier meat because cabbage cause more flavor. I make like 1 layer of it over the cabbage - that's for measurement more than being important for the cooking process.

This is how a chop it and how much I put in.

After that is the onion and the garlic. One big onion would be enough, but if u don't have that size mix and match a few depending on how big they are. I did one medium and one small for this batch, cause it looked right to me 😂 For the garlic 3 or 4 cloves, depending on how big they are. slice them. for some reason i feel like its better than leaving them whole, have flavor everywhere,

chop them up like this and i spread them over the meat, because for some reason i believe onion on top of the meat would make the meat softer.

For tomato I usually use tomato paste. when its this concentrated kind i used like 2 spoonfuls, this much. Prefer to mix that with a little water, like so and i pour it over everything.

Sprinkle some sweet red pepper, enough to cover the whole thing on top but not too much cause its gonna taste powdery 😂 and a few shakes of black pepper, just to have it in there.

Add some vegetable oil. I use sunflower oil but any regular oil would do as long as it doesn't have a strong taste. I usually add around maybe 4 or 5 big spoons. Don't really measure it. Cabbage can take a lot of oil anyway, but too much gets too heavy in my opinion.

and lastly add some bay leaf. very important, wouldn't taste the same without it. I put around 3 average sized bay leaves. 4 if they're really small. 2 if they're big. again just go with what feels right.

i then cook this in a multi-cooker (rice cooker) on STEW setting for 40 minutes, but you can do the same on a stove top. I think 40 min would be enough as well. I mean it's cabbage. you just cook it until its soft.

You don't need to add water to it cause the cabbage has a lot of water in it and it's gonna come out when u cook it on its own. If u start to see it burning in the bottom tho u can add a lil water

When it's done just stir it all up.

Either eat it as is, like a stew or lay it out on a pan/tray and bake it some in the oven.

It's like the best winter meal, especially when u put a lil chili in. I actually ate it today with sambal. Usually just use chili flakes or a chili pepper on the side that u just bite into. Mixed half a spoonful of sambal with my plate and it was so nice.

[sound-of-the-cosmos]

𝕎𝕙𝕦𝕞𝕡 𝕎𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕋𝕚𝕡𝕤: #𝟛: 𝕄𝕒𝕝𝕟𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕙𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥, 𝕊𝕝𝕖𝕖𝕡-𝔻𝕖𝕡𝕣𝕚𝕧𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝔻𝕖𝕙𝕪𝕕𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟

Ho o - Long title, I know. But this stuff is important! I love to write whump scenes with long captivity, but I've noticing when reading these things are often overlooked.

Though commonly forgotten, lets go ahead and get into the need to know! Make your pieces both heart-wrenching and scientifically accurate!

𝙼𝚊𝚕𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝

The max time recorded before death was 2.3 months, but the average is 21 days.

After about 6 hr, most people start to get agitated/grouchy due to lower glucose and hunger.

24-48 hr into a 'fasting period', hunger is a lot more apparent. There can be pains in the stomach, and the body has entered Ketosis (and will begin to start breaking down fatty acid for energy).

72+ hr is around the time when muscles start to be broken down for energy.

Emotional/physiological characteristics: irritable, increasingly depressed, declined concentration, apathetic, hysteric, impaired comprehension and judgement, higher likelihood of self harm, and social isolation and withdrawal.

This can present a little differently in those with eating disorders-- note: please do not use this information to subject yourself for long periods of time.

𝚂𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝙳𝚎𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

Just how long it would take to die isn't really known, but humans can stay awake for 11 days (246 hr), but the max time gone without sleep was 6 months.

Note: please do not try and stay awake for 6 months-- You can survive that long with Chronic sleep deprivation (going days without sleep, then having 1-2 hr rest).

At the 24 hr mark, just about everything is worse. This includes emotional control, memory, decision-making, attention, and hand-eye coordination. At this point the mental ability is similar to that of someone with a 0.10% BAC.

At the 36 hr mark, hormonal spikes are absolutely insane. You lose track of time, there is a major lack of motivation to do anything, and there is a feeling similar to the head-buzzing from dehydration.

46 hr in, jesus christ why are you still awake-- Your body says fuck you and you get small doses of 'microsleep', regardless of what you're doing. Microsleep is known as falling asleep for 1-30 sec, then waking up super disorientated.

72+ hr... please just go to bed or take melatonin or something. Your higher mental processes, like decision making and planning, have been yeeted. Simple conversations are now extremely difficult.

80 hr -- Hallucinations! Say hello to the demons on your ceiling!

𝙳𝚎𝚑𝚢𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

Finally, we're on to dehydration. Absolute fun times!

Death takes about 3 days, but if you're lucky, maybe you can suffer 8-10 days! The body needs water more than food (because the body is mostly water).

There is math involved (sadly, I know). TWV = (total water volume); the average adult loses around 2.5 L of water a day. That's quite a bit!

These next points are assuming your character does not drink anything, absorb any moisture, or eat. Note: Once again-- please don't do this. This is for writing-- yes it's real but please take care of yourself).

After 9 hr, you're at about 2% TWV lost. It's common to experience loss of appetite, dry skin, discomfort, thirst, elevated body temp, fatigue, dizziness, 50% loss of performance (athletes), decreased fluid secretion (sweat, tears, urine, etc), and dizziness when standing.

A the 24 hr mark, you've lost around 6% of TWV. At this point, i's common to feel nauseous, sleepy, severe headaches, and a tingling in the limbs.

36 - 72 hrs in, you've lost anywhere from 6-15% TWV. This is the period of time you severely need to get something to drink. There is a lack of urination, severe headaches, dimming of vision, shriveled skin, muscle spasms and seizures, fainting, and delirium.

72+ hr, the TWV is at least 15% gone. This leads to organ failure.

All of these things have some physical and emotional reactions your characters can give. I stress to you that this is all scientific information that you can use in your writing-- please do not use it on yourself.

Anygay, have a wonderful whumping time!

-Sage

[snoodlebeans]

so it’s the fourth anniversary of me and @squishybellies bein gorlfs so!!!! i made her another fanfic of our kins being gay >:3c

Bedsheets fly off the Pyro's body as they wake with a start, lenses wide and breath hitched as they realized something - something so important that it woke them from an otherwise deep slumber, something that their mind had to address right now.

Despite dating (and now living with) their companion, Westley, for years, not even once had they been able to see him eat.

He has to have a mouth, right? Every living organism needs some kind of sustenance, and they assume his physiology is more like the animals they see every day in between the gory battles against the BLU team (they could never figure out why there's another Pyro there, they thought they were the only one of their kind!) than plants or microbes. So where is his mouth if his entire head is seemingly a giant eyeball? Sure, they could ask Medic about something like that, but one: he'd likely brush off the idea of an alien even existing, not to mention living in RED headquarters out of sight from the rest of the mercenaries, and two: if he didn't consider the idea to be nothing more than the silly fantasy of the team's strange, masked pyrotechnician, then he would definitely capture the poor Watchdog and slice him up to see what the anatomy of an alien is really like - alive, too.

Their flesh, akin to rubber in texture and elasticity but more like human skin in chemical structure, shrivels in abject horror at the thought, and they shake their mask-like head in an attempt to distract themselves with the question in hand. If we're going off the reasonable assumption that Westley does have a mouth, then where would it be? It can't be on his eye, they can't really comprehend how that would work, so it has to be somewhere else on his body. Maybe somewhere else besides his head, since that seems to only have room for his eye in the first place? That has to be it.

Tomorrow, they're going to put their little hypothesis to the test.

----------

"You made all of this... for me-?"

"Mrrhm!"

A proverbial feast is laid out before the tiny Watchdog's eye: golden-brown rolls of buttery bread accompany a pot of rich beef stew, complete with celery and carrots among other vegetables, and just a pinch of parsley to give it that earthy aftertaste (Pyro has known for a while now that stews and soups are Westley's favorite food, so it only makes sense to spoil him with it during their little experiment; he does deserve such a treat, after all!); each and every plate and bowl containing the table's worth of food almost shines in the afternoon light, ceramic handstakingly painted with delicate swirls of pinks and blues among realistic depictions of flowers such as roses and violets alongside a leaf or two, and the silvery flatware completing the dishware set is carved with flowery images to match (they made sure to at least try and arrange the silverware in a manner resembling the figures shown in that old etiquette book they found in Spy's library of the fine arts, but they could never find a soup spoon or a salad knife, so they had to make do with what was available).

And for dessert? An entire batch of peach cookies, and they even resemble their fruity counterparts! In the center of each one is a dollop of rich Italian cream gluing the halves together, and a few mint leaves are placed between the very top of the crease for a whimsical garnish. There's easily about twenty of them, each about the size of the average chocolate-chip cookie. Yes, Pyro is a bit of a cook, despite the sheer ruthlessness of their kills in battle - they find the act of making tasty dishes to be quite therapeutic, honestly, and when it comes to baking pastries or making candies they're even more enthused. All the intricacies of how every ingredient works together to make something truly decadent, the recipe's instructions serving as the backbone for the entire process, the creativity of finding new ways to use both old and new ingredients to spice up a tried and true recipe, harvesting the fruits of their labor by either tasting it themselves or sharing it with the other mercenaries...

Oh, they're zoning out again, and Westley seems a bit eager for something besides the two awkwardly staring off into space to happen.

Pyro quickly shakes their head with a slight mumble, giving the alien a wave with one of their glove-like hands in a display of sheepish apology. Not that such a gesture is needed, he's aware of how Pyro tends to become lost in their own thoughts occasionally. Honestly? It's kind of cute.

The living suit gently pushes his chair closer to the table for him to reach the food resting on top of it - the two had to find a few books to elevate him high enough - and offers the platter of freshly-baked bread rolls before pouring out a hearty portion of stew with a prideful "Hrah-dah!"

"Mrah burmf phrew! Huddah harrof, mrehery, horfom, hurrdamof, mrabbahs, hammah bims ah barsee!"

"Ooh, really? Sounds good - but, well, this is an awful lot, but then again I am really hungry..."

The spoon is comically large in his crimson-gloved hand, and he has to fiddle with it a bit before getting a good enough grip to take a scoop of the dish; already he can smell the earthy tones of parsley and potato, and he ends up needing to remind himself to blow on the spoonful before raising it to his head...

... And bringing it right into his eyeball.

Pyro is just barely able to hold in a gasp at the sight - THAT is his mouth?! How does he see?! Already their hypothesis has been blown out of the water, and just as quickly as it was snuffed out like a candle it has been replaced with even more questions. They watch in awe as their love takes another spoonful, followed by another and another, and soon he's tilting the bowl to slurp it up with fervent delight! Normally they'd be delighted at the obvious success of their cooking, but the curiosity swimming through their head about Watchdog anatomy has pushed that thought to the back of their goop-filled head.

"Man, that was good! Mind if I have some more, dear?"

The sight of Pyro excitedly bringing the entire pot over for Westley to indulge in makes him nearly jump out of his seat; if he didn't know any better, he'd say the fire-obsessed creature had a hint of a pinkish-black blush along their cheeks!

"Oh! Well, there's nothing wrong with a little splurging here and there...~"

With that, he starts to work away at the batch of stew, taking a bread roll and dipping it in the rich, flavorful broth here and there and nibbling on the resulting treat. It all tastes so good that he barely notices his stomach gurgling as he reaches for his fourth bowl, subconsciously taking his free hand to rub at the somewhat swollen organ; his body is working on autopilot now, mind absolutely entranced by the deliciousness of the meal and using all of its energy to consume more and more in greedy bliss.

After what feels like an eternity (to Pyro, at least), the pot is emptied, and every single roll is packed away in the Watchdog's belly along with nearly eight bowl's worth of soup. He pauses, leaning back in his oversized chair and exposing his round gut for the world to see: it sticks out about three inches from his body, and judging by its turgid appearance it's quite well-fed. Pyro can't help themselves from running a finger along its curved surface, eliciting a tender sigh from the stuffed extraterrestrial as he leans into their touch, eye half-lidded in sleepy delight at the massage.

"M-Mmf, right there, hahh...~"

Goodness, he looks adorable like this! And while Pyro knew Westley had an appetite larger than his small stature, they had no idea he could pack away that much in one sitting!

Hmm... maybe they can see just how much more he can eat. For science, of course.

----------

He can smell it when the very first cookie is offered up: a rich, sweet aroma like that of ripe peaches combined with the scents of sugary cream and fresh mint, and the surprisingly attractive combination is enough for the Watchdog's salivary glands to start up again, even after such a heavy meal beforehand. The pastry is greedily snatched up, and he takes his first bite moments later...

... And at once his tastebuds are hit with a sugar cookie's warm embrace alongside the richness of buttery cream and the refreshing coolness of mint, with aromatic and juicy peach serving as the bow that wraps together such a little gift.

His eye widens, and for a moment he no longer is hiding away in the somewhat dilapidated barn serving as RED's base, but in his own world of absolute, flavorful indulgence.

"... This is amazing."

He can't even bring himself to whoop in joy at how it all tastes, the experience of tasting the cookie simply leaves him too awed and immersed in it all - and Pyro is more than delighted at the feedback they've received, no matter how little; here, Westley's silence speaks volumes about his views on the little treat. They have to restrain themselves from causing a scene with raucous laughter and potentially catching the attention of the others, yet their emotions of intense joy leave their body to resort to flapping their arms while giving a soft giggle as they gaze at their companion lovingly.

They're so cute when they do that...

... Oh, the cookie's gone already.

Not wanting to miss out on the wondrous dessert while a plate of it still rests right in front of him, the alien proceeds to take a handful of peach cookies, popping a couple of them into his mouth in an attempt to make a compromise between his desire to savor the taste or stuffing as much of them into his eye-mouth as he can without so much as a single pause for flavor out of pure gluttony. Once more, he has to keep himself from chewing fast to refill his mouthful, letting the varied tastes rest on his metaphorical tongue for at least a minute before swallowing his bite. Pyro watches all the while, enamoured with the sight of Westley somehow being able to make room for what they can only assume is another amount of calories equal to, if not greater than the amount he previously ingested with the stew and bread!

Each handful devoured adds to the alien's already bloated middle, which slowly inches forward into his lap as he makes dents in the plate of cookies piled high before him; he has to pause here and there to give his belly a good rub, making room in its already packed insides for even more. It gurgles in mild protest, of course, but those soon fade away with the application of warmth and pressure aiding to digest what he's already consumed. Besides, the sensation of massaging his full stomach feels nice - it's actually quite relaxing! That, and he thinks it's cute how the suit-like assassin watching him develops an even stronger blush with each rubbing session.

Halfway through, and his lap only has a few inches of room left before being swallowed up by engorged stomach-flesh; Westley's breathing has slowed due to the weight of his stomach pressing into his lungs, but it's not enough for him to be in any sort of danger - it's only dropped to his sleeping rate, maybe one or two breaths above it. The little discomfort he feels is concentrated in how his dinner rests in his stomach like a boulder, weighing him down further and further as the remaining batch decreases to a quarter of its size, then a sixth, an eighth, until none are left - and by then Westley swears he can hear the chair creaking under his weight.

"Mmngh... urp-"

Did they push him too far? He's clearly in discomfort, and the concept of Pyro inadvertently harming their love as a result of their own curiosity causes their limbs to grow ice cold and their stomach to curdle. Rushing to his side, they begin to add to the rubbing, whimpering and practically sobbing the entire time before Westley places a crimson glove on their own.

"I'm fine, honey! Just... maybe overdid it a bit, hehehic-!"

Oh, thank goodness. The abomination nearly melts onto the floor as they go limp with relief, but is quick to resume the aftercare once their emotions return to normal. Their love's stomach is taut and almost spherical; they can feel it churning away several pounds of food underneath their clawed fingertips - it's honestly a fascinating sensation. Pyro coos in a mix of wonder and affection, leaning over to nuzzle the Watchdog's overtaxed midsection with the snout of their face as a low, gargling purr rises in their throat.

"Aw, you really like it when I'm all full like this, huh? Guess we should do this more often, then.~"

They consider the experiment a success.

[thunderheadfred]

🤚The Second Worst (Pt. 1/?)🤚

Part 2 of my Shigaraki Thesis Headcanons. HC's // The Second Worst: 1 - 2

The half-mad ghost of Shimura Tenko is in love with you, and your life is about to become a tragic wreck. -- AKA here's when I gave up on bullet points and went off the fuckin rails

I'm self-conscious about writing so much, so uhhhh, please be kind, hahaaa. This is rather long and involved. Are these still even HCs or just a self-indulgent AU outline? There are some mysteries we may never solve.

This is on AO3 now, if you prefer reading there. Anyway. Minors do not interact.

- - - - -

You met Tenko before the League existed.

Believe it or not, there are a million ways it might have happened, but in the end: you were both bargain-binning in Akihabara.

You reached for a copy of a collectible bullet-hell cute-'em-up (near-mint! CIB!!!) and accidentally bonked hands with a complete stranger. He flinched about five million feet away from you. Ouch. You're just a nobody, quirkless and average, but you didn't think you were THAT repulsive.

(You're not. Hell, even if you were, this guy couldn't care less. He barely registers that you have a face.)

(Shigaraki is accustomed to getting in and out of this shop in seconds. He always comes in before anyone else and goes straight home. -- Is that really home? Is 'home' a real place? -- ANYWAY he's already pirated this shit, god, why does he even care? He doesn't need to be here. Father doesn't like it. Is that why he's here? Just to do something Father doesn't like? That's pathetic.)

He's had at least ten complete internal arguments with himself before he so much as looks at you.

You know in the tenth of a second he actually meets your eyes... this fucker is going to fight you to the death over this game.

- - - The death match ends in a draw. He was not expecting you to know the first fucking thing about this game. Nobody knows about it, even in Japan. Who the fuck do you even think you are? Oh, no, he's still taking it. But... maybe he can show you how to play it it. He'll give you a little taste, just to make you jealous. He's got his hoodie pulled down like he's going to commit an act of terrorism. What little you can see of his face looks twitchy and messed up. If you have any survival instincts at all, they're kicking in right about now. But... why not. You're not going anywhere with this dude unsupervised, so you suggest a crowded web cafe down the street. The cafe has the necessary console... but the retro gaming booth is laughably small. The TV is about four inches across and you end up having to practically sit in his lap. You were sure this guy was a nasty fucking creep, but he's................ only mostly terrible. Way too angry, for sure. Has no idea how to have a normal, friendly conversation. Inadvertently insults you every other sentence and seems to have a deep-seated persecution complex.

You'd prefer to be mad about the awful company, but... he's obviously deprived of human contact. When it's established that you two share a lot of media fixations, he calms down and starts treating you a little more like a human being. Or at least like a fellow elite.

Wherever he came from, he doesn't seem to want to go back. He keeps pushing you to play one more level, pretending he wants to beat your score. You feel kinda bad for him. You get the distinct feeling that his life is a disaster. He looks like he's never had a full night of sleep in his life. He trips your trigger hairs in that 'is he gonna follow me home?' kind of way, but... up close, he's a lot more depressing than scary. At the very least, you want to buy him a stupidly cute dessert. Just... as thanks. For letting you try out the game and stuff. It's not a big deal, so just pick a flavor, okay? The world isn't actually that awful, y'know.

It's not even that impressive... Definitely not a great cafe. But he takes practically a full hour to eat a single slice of strawberry cake.

When the hoodie comes down. He's all shriveled and dried out, like someone left him him in the desert to die. He chews on his peeling bottom lip and nervously scratches his neck. He doesn't thank you for the cake. Which is fine. It's not a big deal. Actually, you wish he would eat faster; you feel weirdly responsible for him now.

Under all that mess he's... gorgeous? His hair is stunning: a bright, gleaming silver that catches the light. His bone structure is flawless. If it weren't for all the scars and the misanthropic slouch, he'd look like a fairy fucking prince.

You were not prepared for that. In another life he could have been a model, the type of guy who would never even look at you. But something bad happened to him. Something... very bad. Do you even want to know? You have no idea how to ask. Has anyone ever been nice to him? It doesn't seem like it. Should YOU be nice to him? You sort of want to try. - - - This becomes a regular thing. This weird little secret. You should probably tell someone when you see him, just in case you don't come back one day, but you say nothing; how the hell would you explain why you want to see him so bad? You don't know his full name. Maybe he's on a watch list. When he gives you a long string of random numbers so you can schedule meet-ups (is THAT his e-mail, really?) he tells you to just... call him Tenko. Or whatever. It doesn't matter. (He sneaks out when Father is deep in his plots. As long as he comes home on time, it doesn't really matter where he goes, right?) He brings a different game every time. He has an insane collection. Where does he get the money for all this? You know he doesn't work. God, is it drugs? It's probably drugs. Wherever these hidden gems came from, he proudly shows them off to you, like he's never had an audience before. It's sort of cringe-inducing, the way he one-ups and rubs every little victory in your face, desperate for attention.

But at the same time, you are becoming too... something...to mind. Do you... like him? He's not funny, but he thinks you are. His mouth is huge when he laughs. He seems to hate everyone but you, and you've had to earn the distinction of being merely tolerable. Still, he gets really excited about random shit like the garage kit black market and haunted dolls and the price of weed on the dark web.

And... strawberry cake. The realization hits you both at the same time when the waitress brings one piece with two forks. God, what the fuck, are you... are you dating? Quick, think. You look forward to seeing him, and don't even mind sitting close to him anymore. Sometimes you push your leg up against him just to see if he'll still flinch away... and he doesn't.

You jealously notice the way he touches everything but you: with delicate precision, one finger at a time. His large, elegant hands always have a pinky up like he's aspiring for a fiefdom, and you wonder what his skin feels like. You go home and dwell on the way he plucks flowering weeds out of the pavement in front of the cafe. The way he stands rooted to the spot as you leave, just... looking at nothing, unsmiling.

You watch his lips too much, and not just because you want to buy him chapstick. You catch him gaping at you all the time. You thought he was just creepy like that, but maybe... Yeah. I guess you are dating him. Shit. - - - Okay, so, yeah. Bringing him back to your place was definitely a bad idea. You know you shouldn't trust him, even if he is... apparently... your boyfriend? Sort of? You still don't have his phone number. So. Um. What now? You order overpriced pizza and queue up a campy horror movie. What the fuck are you even doing. You don't really think he's going to murder you anymore, but... still. Is the suburban massacre scene gonna give him ideas? Turns out, no. He doesn't like gore, even when the blood is neon pink. He gets upset. Like, really upset. Shaky and green, like he might puke on you. He can't stop scratching that scaly spot on his neck.

Tenko, are you crying? Fucking hell, did you just trigger him? Of course he has a traumatic past, it's carved all over his face. You're so fucking stupid. You don't know how to make it right. You want to hug him, kiss him... anything. But he's never really touched you, and you're too afraid to push now. It ruins the whole night. He leaves without explaining anything. Doesn't even say goodbye. He just. Leaves. Maybe you'll never see him again. Maybe that's for the best. Your chest hurts. - - - He shows up at your door a few weeks later. You haven't heard from him since that disastrous movie night. You had pretty much accepted that you'd broken up with a boyfriend you never actually had. But no. Apparently not.

This time, he’s brought his own entertainment. He's holding a boxed set of some show you're not familiar with. You're distracted by these weird little half-gloves he's wearing, like a cyberpunk hacker. That's a new look, and even if it's a bit edgelord adjacent, he makes it look cool. You tell him as much. It's the first time you've let on how attractive you find him. He's wearing a tight black shirt with a deep, deep V-neck. That's distracting too.

He clears his slender throat and doesn't look at you.

You try to apologize for before, but he's acting like it never happened. What are you even talking about? Have you seen this OVA or not? Get out of the way and let him in already. You've watched three episodes now, but you still have no idea what this stupid anime is about. You can't pay attention to a single frame. All you can think about is how his arm has crept up behind your shoulders. A few inches more and he'll be holding you. Does he... want to hold you? You lean toward him so slowly your spine creaks. One molecule at a time. After a thousand years, your head slides nervously under his chin. His arm comes down, locking you in, fingers clutching your sleeve in a death grip. Even that snobby little pinky. His head tucks down into you hair. A sharp collarbone bites into your cheek. His heartbeat is hard, fast, and irregular. There's not a scrap of fat on him, and as you wrap your arm around his stomach, you think you see a twitch in his pants. Is that just you being desperate? Or... hopeful? This is really happening. --- Soon, you learn that Tenko is a clumsy kisser. It doesn't matter; the fact that he's kissing you at all is good enough for now. His lips are dry, but not half as dry as you expected. There's a slick of menthol helping things along; he's been using something medicated on his lips. Plus, his mouth tastes like he drank a gallon of mouthwash.

All this thrills you more than a little, because it means he came here wanting to impress you. Wanting you. Full stop. Underneath that minty sting is a strange, worrisome aftertaste, like something rotten. Your brain fires off an alarm. Stop kissing him. Right now. This thing will make you sick. But his hands nervously slide over your body... and you decide not to worry about it. Instead, you kiss him deeper. He makes a sweet, startled little noise. Your brain is a fucking liar. It occurs to you he's probably never done this before.

When you lace your fingers in his and try to pull one of his gloves off, he rips his hand away.

Don't. That’s the only explanation he gives.

No need to ask if it's a quirk thing or a trauma thing. Judging by how jittery he gets, it's probably both. You remember the way his hands almost float over objects without ever holding them. Maybe his touch is dangerous. Maybe that's why his face looks like that.

Maybe you should learn more about him before things go way too far...

No. It can't be that bad. Now that he's in your arms, everything frightening about him evaporates. He's vulnerable. He's alone. He's shaking a little. Has anyone else ever seen this side of him? You want to keep him all to yourself, just like this.

So what if he has to touch you with gloves on? You've heard of worse quirk-related inconveniences.

It's okay, Tenko. Do you want to keep going?

You put his hands back on you and wait for him to kiss you again. It doesn't take long.

---

You open his pants. He's long and thin, calloused even here. Every part of him feels untouched, unloved. You hold him tight and squeeze.

It doesn't seem to occur to him to please you in return. He looks afraid. Confused. You're sure you scared him earlier with the glove thing. Is this too much? No. He gasps and leans into you. The tiniest, broken please.

He cums in your hand right away, face buried in your shoulder, his eyes wet and hidden.

I have to go, he says. Over and over and over.

It's okay, Tenko.

You know he doesn't want to.

- - - - - (oops I wrote more)

[kirishwima]

Hello lovely! Hope you're doing well. 💖 If you're taking Mysme requests still, I was wondering if you could do headcannons for the RFA+V (and Saeran if you want) with a female MC who has depression and struggles with being overweight and the insecurity that that brings, but instinctively hides her stress and prioritizes the others over herself?

anon are you Me. Are You. this is too specific and i relate 100%, i'm sorry you feel this way, know i love & appreciate you <33

I'll use she/her pronouns for MC since you specified them!

RFA + Saeran with an insecure, depressed, overweight MC:

Yoosung:

* Listen, I love him, but boy would take a while to realise that MC's insecure, especially if she keeps hiding her own anxiety to help him when he's upset

* He will tell her he loves her CONSTANTLY, and when you don't love yourself, hearing that can...hurt sometimes, makes you doubt yourself. If she doesn't voice this concern, he won't take much note of it-he'll understand when she's upset, of course, and do his best to help, but he's not the best at reading between the lines, so she'll need to be a little bit more upfront about it

* The one scenario I can picture, is him coming home one day, perhaps finding MC getting dressed or after a shower-standing in front of a mirror, gaze averted, shoulders tense.

* He's happy to see her, but notices her stiff smile, how she flinches away when he goes to hug her, and when he asks what's wrong, if she says 'nothing' he'll insist until she talks to him, tells him her insecurities, how she doesn't get what he sees in her, how she'll be happy when they're together but then feel so empty the next moment.

* He'll feel SO guilty for not recognising the signs, but he won't beat himself up over it-what's most important is helping her, not wallowing in self-pity.

* He'll sit with MC for as long as it takes that day, will hold her close and list all the things he loves about her even if she doesn't believe a single one of them. He can't relate to the insecurities about her body, though he'll try to convince her he loves her as is-because it's the truth! He can however, relate to what it's like to feel empty, to force yourself through the motions of daily life while shrivelling up inside.

* So he vows to help, in anyway possible.

Zen:

* Listen, I refuse to believe that behind all that narcissism there aren't insecurities stemming from all the shit he's been through in his childhood. Boy's developed narcissism to cope with what he thought of himself as a kid, and I stand by that.

* So he's more observant than you might think-when he sees MC checking herself in the mirror, poking at her stomach, how she'll sigh and put a big hoodie over her t-shirt, how she shies away from physical affection, how seeing him shirtless oftentimes makes her feel bad about herself, that he 'has to be seen with her'-he notices it all, and hates it, hates that her brain made her think she's anything less than gorgeous.

* He tried asking her about it but she insists she's fine and she's no more or less insecure than the average person-ever the one to try and keep his worry at bay.

* So instead he'll let her know he loves her every single day, will tell her he loves her body, will post online about how proud he is to be with her-for all the world to know, so no one will ever dare question her worth.

* It's an uphill battle, and it's not one Zen can win for her, but he'll do his best to help, so she can realise her own self-worth.

Jaehee:

* Baehee would be one of the most observant people in the RFA-though she doesn't share the same insecurities, she can understand them, and will often prod MC, asking her to talk about anything that might be bothering her.

* If MC says 'it's nothing, please don't worry', she won't push much; she doesn't want her to completely clam up. But she'll always be gentle, holding MC's hands as she says she'll always be here if MC wants to talk, that she helped her so much she wants to be MC's support too.

* I know how weird it feels lending clothes to others when you're chubby-so I feel like sharing clothes with Jaehee would be...an ordeal. Being unable to wear Jaehee's skinny jeans, whilst she can fit into MC's, would sting, and it'd only add onto MC's guilt-she doesn't want to feel this way about her girlfriend! She loves her, appreciates her, doesn't ever want her to know about these thoughts.

* But again, Jaehee knows. She understands it, so-she takes MC shopping, and together they buy matching pairs of pyjamas and t-shirts, things that, whilst they don't need to share, can wear and be reminded of one another.

* "I love you as you are-you accepted me for who I am, so let me do the same for you" she'll say, will hug MC and hold her close until she lets her feelings out, talks about her worries.

* Jaehee would be eager to help search for a good psychologist, to get MC professional help-she knows what she can do as MC's girlfriend isn't much, so she wants MC to get the best help she can.

*And of course, she'll be there for MC every step of the way

Jumin:

* oof...listen. He loves MC SO much, will buy her the moon if she asks, but this man..he's only recently discovered his own emotions. He's emotionally dense, and when MC says she's fine, he tends to take it at face value. Why would MC lie to him, after all? She trusts him enough to let him know if something's bothering her, doesn't she?

* Not to say he doesn't realise there's something wrong-he's a businessman, reading his clients is a part of his job description, emotions included. So when MC's smile stretches thin, when she's overwhelmed but swallows it down in favour of acting like everything's okay, he knows-maybe not to the extent that others might've, but he can tell something's wrong, and he'll honestly be upset MC doesn't talk to him about it.

* So he'll just...sit down and talk to her about it. Ask her to be upfront with him, tell her he wants her to be happy, that he wants to be there for her and help her any way he can, but can't do that if she doesn't talk with him and let him know what's wrong.

* If MC breaks down-if she cries, hides her face in her hands, he'll be shell-shocked. He's so used to her smiling, even at the face of adversity, that seeing her like this...he has no idea what to do at first, not one used to emotional outbursts.

* Insticts soon kick in though, and he gathers her in his arms, rubs his hands on her back, letting her cry until she calms down, no matter how long that takes.

* When she tells him about her depression, her insecurities, he'll nod, quietly listening to her worries, formulating a plan of attack.

* He quite bluntly doesn't understand why she's insceure. She's beautiful?? He loves her exactly as she is?? If she wants to change something about her appearance she's more than welcome to, but to want to do that because she feels she must is...absurd. He simply won't allow it.

* I know it's a cliche in a lot of these headcanons, that he'd buy perfectly tailored clothes for MC, that he'd purchase the finest, most flattering clothes for her to feel as beautiful as she is in his eyes, but it's true-he would, hell, he'd probably read up on fashion himself so he'd be able to help her pick out outfits. He'd do anything for MC, and that's NOT an exaggeration.

* Plus he'd insist on her going to therapy-I headcanon that after realising his own emotions he'd probably start attending therapy sessions himself, to try and get a better read on his emotions, so he'll be a pretty strong advocate for therapy, and he wants the very best for MC.

Seven:

* HAHAHAHAHAH.

* This man...not only can he absoloutely relate, it's honestly a big reason why their relationship is rocky, to say the least.

* Having two depressed, self-sarificing people who'd rather bury their emotions in the depths of their gut rather than admit emotional vulnerability in a relationship? Yeah, not a good idea.

* He'll be using humour to cope with his depression, trying to get MC to open up instead, whilst MC's just pretending she's Never Had a Negative Thought in her life, trying to get Seven to open up instead. You see the issue, yeah?

* Honestly it'll take a lot of walking on eggshells and dancing around the issue until either one of them breaks down, admitting defeat, or they share an honest, adult conversation about their emotions and about how they both need help-which, realistically speaking, I find quite unlikely to happen.

* Not to say the relationship won't work out-God, Seven wants it to work out so, so much. He'll tell MC he loves her constantly, he'll make it so in order to enter the apartment, she'll need to say one thing she loves about herself each day at the security door before it can be unlocked, he'll do everything in his power to help her with her body issues because he loves her, worships her as is.

* The ideal solution honestly would be someone else from the RFA-Jaehee probably, lol, coming to boink them both over the head and drag them to therapy, both individual and couple's sessions, so they can finally start expressing their emotions to one another in a way that ISN'T memes or self-deprecating humour.

* It'll take a while but-they'll make it work. They love one another too much not to.

V/Jihyun:

* This man. This sweet, sweet man.

* He knows what it's like to be insecure, to feel uncomfortable in your own skin, knows what depression is like, how it takes a hold of you and leaves you a shell of who you once were, or worse-who you could've been.

* He's so attuned to his own emotions, he's learnt to recognise the signs in himself-and ergo can tell when someone else is also suffering, although to what extent, it's not always easy to tell.

* He hates MC feeling this way about herself. He loves her so much, she's the one that pulled him out of his own self-depracating, self-sacrifising depressed state, has helped him seek help and become a better man-he wants to be able to support her too, wants to do everything in his power to help.

* But helping someone who won't even admit there's something wrong...isn't easy. He's so gentle and patient though, and slowly helps tear MC's walls down. He'll never prod too much, will simply..be there for her. Will hug her, run his fingers down her sides. If she squirms away, afraid of him feeling her love handles, he'll simply smile and say he loves her, finds every single thing about her beautiful-he'll purposely trail his hands to said love handles, if she's comfortable with it, looking her straight in the eye when he says "Every part of you, I'm in love with. Please don't take my words lightly."

* If she's up for it, he'd love to photograph her-but it's not easy, when you're so awkward in your own skin, to accept to be viewed through a camera lens. So instead he'll draw her, his sketchbook filled with doodles of her face when she's happy, when she's concentrating, her body as she sleeps, head smooshed into the pillow.

* He'll never push her, letting her take things at her own pace-but he'll be there to aid in every single step

Saeran:

* I know I said it for Seven and V to but...out of everyone, I feel like he'd understand MC's predicament the most. Insecure about his frail body, dealing with the trauma Mint Eye has left him with, trying to combat his demons and anxieties whilst trying to return to being a member of society-he's going through...a lot, to say the least.

* So it's honestly understandable how MC will swallow down her own issues, do her best to support Saeran instead. Will she break in the process? Perhaps. She doesn't care. Not if she can help him in the process.

* Saeran might not notice it initially, too focused on his own issues which-honestly, understandable. It's not everyday you leave a cult after all. But the more he talks with MC, the more he realises she's hiding so much from him, slowly notices how often she forces a smile on her face, how she'll nervously cover her mid-riff with her arms whilst sitting down, how she shies away from attention-

*He's almost never the one to initiate physical affection with her, and she doesn't initiate it much either-but when he does, when he leans in to kiss her and feels her tense he panics, pulls away because-is she reacting this way because she doesn't want him?

* When she explains it's not that, that she loves him and wants to be with him, he'll press the issue, ask her why she'll shy away from him then-not in a mean way, he'll just honestly be so worried, wondering what's wrong and how he could help.

* And when/if MC does tell him about her issues...there's not honestly much he could do. He'll tell her he loves her, that she's beautiful, that her body's a vessel to carry her soul around, and that soul is so wonderful it radiates joy to everyone around her, but he knows how hard it is to believe such words when in this mindset.

* So instead, he suggests they go to therapy together. He knows it's not the easiest thing in the world-but he wants her to get the help she deserves. He'll hold her hand on the way to her first session, will wait outside for her, smiling up at her when she's done.

* Things will slowly get better for the both of them.

-masterpost-

[jostepherjoestar]

I remember someone suggesting about the La Squadra child being Abbacchio or Mista’s nephew/niece and I was wondering if it’s ok to ask how would (I’m gonna go with Abbacchio) react to that?. Maybe before joining the kid was just a above average intelligent child but was still normal and now Abbacchio is confused as to why their stoic, cold and with a group of assassins.

La Squadra Kid backstory and relation to Abbacchio + general HC’s

Thank you so much for asking this, I’ve been meaning to summarise their backstory and how they ended up with La Squadra! This will be kind of emotional since it’s bit tragic imo. There’s also going to be some HC’s about our little bud so you can all get a feel at how I see them 😊

Long post!

CW: heavier subjects such as trauma, not fun situations for a kid to be in and usual gang related violence, mentions of abortion and mental illness

General HC’s

I’ve always imagined them to be around 7 to 8 years old, but unfortunately due to all that’s happened, their mind has been forced to mature a lot faster. Of course they should have never had to go through that but life isn’t that simple, especially for them.

Their name is Pomo, like an apple or a pommel :) thought it was a fitting and cute name! I’ll still refer to them as La Squadra Kid in titles but opt for Pomo while writing.

Pomo is not that tall for their age, just cute lil bean with puffy cheeks! I’ve decided to keep Pomo’s pronouns neutral, it just seemed to click more.

As far as their personality goes it’s been fun discovering them through your asks! Pomo is a quiet and stoic kid, they don’t smile that often but that doesn’t mean they’re not enjoying themselves.

They love drawing things as a way to express their feelings or the things they like. It’s a lot easier than verbally communicating for them. They’ll say what they need with the least amount of words necessary.

They’ve developed a weird sense of humour, very dry I’d say lol, also thinks it’s funny to scare Ghiaccio, who they know secretly likes them.

Pomo is quite independent and goes out by themselves, their stand is very powerful and kinda scary, even to their colleagues so they can handle any trouble coming their way. Pomo is slowly learning that they don’t need to do everything alone (i.e. asking for company after nightmares)

Though going out alone can result in people turning Pomo away in shops, that’s why Melone is their choice to bring along so it’s not weird a kid is just out alone spending money.

They’re also very glad to do tasks or things the others ask of them, they crave harmony and peace at home so Pomo will try to help achieve that in any way possible (unfortunately this is a result of trauma).

Pomo really likes La Squadra and sees them as their family now, knowing what member is better at offering different types of things and who to turn to for specific needs.

Their stand’s is named My Way (マイウェイ) after the Frank Sinatra song. It fits quite nicely imo, a force to be reckoned with doing it on their own terms.

And lastly, they do not like hugs or being touched that much. They’ll allow hand holding but only if they’re in a good mood, quick head pats are also ok. It really is touch and go with them, Pomo will let you know when they don’t like something.

Backstory and relation to Abbacchio

The world moved in a blur, the two lines on every single pregnancy test strewn out before her like nails getting hammered into her coffin. Suffocating while it was lowered into the ground, scratching and screaming for air, nails bloodied and raw as the reality set in that she was unmistakably pregnant. The panic followed, clenching her chest like a vice, threatening to shatter her heart and lungs in the process, gasping for air and wishing any other truth than this one. Abbacchio’s older sister wept for days, dark circles alternating with red swollen puffiness as the life she’d just started on her own already began to crumble.

The father of her child taking his exit as soon as she confessed her situation, knowing before she’d even tell him that he’d swiftly let her suffer in the mess. The thought of looking a doctor in the eyes, the cruel conversations she would have to endure before they’d let her suffer in uncertainty of the fate of her unborn child, making her choose to just endure it instead. Not that the choice would offer a softer outcome, it was her burden to bare, she thought. Whatever horrible things she’s done to receive such heartless judgement never occurred to her. The only thing the young woman was convinced of, is that she whole heartedly deserved it.

Her younger brother, growing up to be an impressionable adolescent, unsure how to care for his beloved sibling. His eyes always so full of innocent wonderment at his older sister, wanting to become as brave and independent as her. Living alone, working strenuous hours as if only this would make him worthy of the meagre salary of a rookie police officer. Slowly but surely he saw the woman he so admired creep away as her belly grew larger each month. Coming by often to check up on her wellbeing after school, spending nights or even weeks so he’d be by her side. All the while finishing up in high school. As his sister’s expression grew darker, the smiles fading and her laughter but a distant memory Leone Abbacchio could do nothing but stand by and let her lean on him.

The meagre support their parents could offer did little too ease her mind, the reality of becoming a mother and having nothing but emptiness to offer her child digging her ever deeper into the darkness that consumed her. She sobbed the day her child was born, little Pomo’s big eyes asking her if she was even worthy to hold the small babe. Every look at the child reminding her she had already failed, not even able to comfort their cries before feedings. Incapable of shushing them and finding the strength to coo at those tiny hands that ached to play and accept the warm touch of a caregiver. The young mother did what she needed, feeding the child and changing diapers. The depth of her troubles never easing as she had to go back to work, two different jobs needed to support herself and Pomo.

Abbacchio offered what he could, often babysitting and spending weekends at his sister’s cramped apartment. A child taking care of an even smaller one. The hope he held that his sister would regain her previous lust for life faltered. It only seemed to worsen as Pomo grew. The child never overtly fussed or cried, sleeping soundly and cooing gently whenever hungry. Those big eyes always seeming to bore straight through whoever leaned over the basinet to admire them. The child’s mother wished for it all to end, every night she’d pray to any god who would hear her desperate calls. But as she did only further hurting herself, her pleading like whips claiming penitence on her heavy shoulders.

She begged her younger brother to go out and make his dreams come true. “Never let your resolve falter Leone. Ever.” The voice that brought him courage, the broken woman’s words reminding him of the image he so admired once. But in pursuing his career as an officer it would mean less and less time to care for his dwindling sister and her child.

The night she told him the sisters of their local convent would relieve her of her child, the young officer held his sister for hours. The tears they cried filling an endless well of sorrow. It hadn’t brought the relief she thought she would feel, not a feather lighter as her child would be in more capable hands. Caregivers who weren’t afraid to look the toddler in the eyes as they searched your very soul for meaning. At merely four years old dear Pomo lay gently asleep in a different cot, in a stony building smelling of earth, heated by creaky copper pipes while sisters prayed in unison with beaded necklaces intertwining their palms. Praying for deliverance.

Abbacchio came by whenever he could, becoming more and more weary of his actions and the people he swore to protect as his career started to lack the fervour it had when he started out. Seeing Pomo grow into a silent and demure child, laconically learning to read and write, quietly pleading the sisters not to let their touch on their skin linger. Every stroke burning with an unknown memory that someone once held them, just once and decided to never do it again. Their very skin warding off any unwanted contact without even knowing why. A locked memory with a firm grasp on their being.

“Never let your resolve falter, Pomo. Ever.” The last words spoken to the small child before leaving. The lonely child left in the suffocating confines of the convent. Their uncle wouldn’t return for a long time, days spent hoping to see a sliver of his stark hair and bright eyes that had seemed to dull over time. But the child would never forget those words. Not even as the head sister punished them for not answering when spoken to, not when she would order them to remain on the prayer bench for hours as punishment, knees aching to settle as they were forced to remain. Their eyes boring through the other sisters as they came and joined them at their usual hours of worship.

Restraining the stand they were born with from acting out, self control being trained as they kept going, determined to let their uncle’s last words not be wasted on them. In the free time Pomo was allowed, they’d test out whatever the ghostly figure could, standing taller than them with thick black fog-like tentacles resting behind their back. Whatever those touched seemed to shrivel up like roses in wintertime. Pomo was intelligent, interested in more subjects than just his schooling that only seemed to bore them. The ease of the material offering no challenge as they completed tests with full marks, only making the head sister grow suspicious of them and unleashing more punishment.

Men in extravagant suits would visit the convent every so often, hushed whispers as they walked by the child who’d stoically stare as they passed. They’d always ignore them, scared of the glare and aura the child had started emitting. Many of the sisters had rejected the offer to tutor them when the previous one excused herself, feeling too uneasy by Pomo’s being. It didn’t hurt them, they just kept on doing what the sisters asked of them. Stay tidy, study and don’t get in their way. They had accepted their silence and aversion to touch, growing scared to try anything after the entire courtyard greenery was found shrivelled and dead mid spring. Every freshly planted flower grey and sad, the grass as crunchy as if it had just been burned to ashes. Pomo was sat comfortably on the stone bench that was placed there to admire the garden’s beauty. It wasn’t that they wanted it to happen. Someone just came too close and made them panic, not that it was clear to the sister that accidentally grabbed their shoulders while moving past them, the child remained calm, instead letting their stand take care of the burning sensation that crept over their body.

It was one of those days where a well dressed man would come by and whisper secretively with the sisters as they strode towards a private room and remained there until it was time to leave in an equal hurry. But this time a relaxed gentleman stepped out of the room with a large huff, stretching his neck and groaning loudly as he did. The taps of his heeled shiny shoes echoed through the stony arches of the hallway that led to the courtyard where Pomo had been toying a blade of grass between their fingers. Intensely staring at the green colour that stained his pads while their stand loomed over them freely. As the steps drew nearer, the child paid them no mind, instead grabbing a new blade and continuing the process all over. Soft padded steps made their way over casually until a large shadow covered Pomo. Hands rested in his pocked while his arms pushed back the sides of the loose suit jacket. The cigarette dangling from his lips bobbing after he took another intoxicating drag, puffing out the air harshly while peering at the kid.

“And who might you two be?” The man sunk down to a crouch, inspecting a small daisy that stuck out between the sea of green blades. “Pomo.” The child stopped rolling the tuft of grass as they processed his words. Two. Never had they met another who could see the figure that was their only friend. Unsure if the man posed a threat, he exuded a certain cocky confidence they weren’t sure they liked. “Nice to meet you Pomo. That other one looks a bit scary, don’t you think? But then again, you must be too. D’you mind showing me what they can do?” Offering a gentle chuckle as he gently pried, curious to see what this lonesome child could do, never having witnessed someone so young possessing a stand. It sure peaked the man’s interest as he twirled the daisy between his digits.

The amount of precision they possessed shocked him as the daisy was shot with a quick tap of a foggy black tentacle. It crumbled under his pads as he pressed it, letting it fall back onto the earth. Impressed by the ability and thoroughly interested in what it could do for him, the man proceeded. “Have you even killed someone with that?” There was no need to beat around the bush, that much was obvious when the child never seemed to have moved from their position, merely staring at the ground before them. A slow methodical dark tendril crept towards the man, stopping an inch before his polished shoe. Pomo turned their gaze upwards now, offering a look so unreadably neutral it made the man’s heart beat faster in fear, his many years in Passione not having prepared him to face another that lacked fear as much as the child in front of him. “Do you like it here, Pomo?”

A proposal started taking form in the man’s head, one he’d have to discus with his boss before acting on it. “No.” Clear as a bell their voice made a sinister hope grow, a hope that it would only take as little as just asking them to join up with Passione to get his desired answer. As an Advisor he’d have little hurdles in his way before bringing up the idea to his boss, being one of the only few allowed to even directly communicate with the mysterious man. “You seem fearless, to an unsettling degree, kid. If I asked you to kill a guy, would you?” Somehow the direct communication had been the most pleasant conversation Pomo has had in a few years, be it of a morally ambiguous subject, but refreshing to have another respect their space and not be afraid to ask what they desired of them.

“Are they bad?” The amount of troubling honesty behind the child’s harsh gaze making the man believe he’d met his fate, it had been like Pomo was asking if he deserved to live another moment, their stand still remaining at the tip of his shoe. “Not in their own opinion.” Clearing his throat to regain any sort of confidence, the kid’s eyes skipping through the pages of his soul, weighing his sins and good deeds. In reality they were doing no such thing, only weighing their options, grown tired of the convent and its inhabitants, aching to find any sort of family or support without even knowing it. “Ok.” As they gave their answer they chose to retract their stand, ending the conversation without another word. The Advisor’s sigh of relief deeper than any he had before, glad to be able to continue living.

The Boss was feeling generous, letting his Advisor know that placing the child amongst the men of La Squadra Esecuzioni could serve them well, perhaps make them regain any semblance of respect in the organisation. Opting out of putting their deadly stand in his personal Unità Speciale, fearing the effects of Cioccolata or Secco would build a threat larger than himself. Pomo agreed immediately, knowing it would be best to leave the sisters behind to pray for the child’s deliverance. Making their own money, be it a scanty salary, living with a group of other misfits and taking care of jobs here and there did not sound like the worst future for them. The sisters, terrified at the transfer, having no clue what the mafia would even want with the child, did not let the only person on the outside that cared for them know about the move. Too afraid of the consequences.

But after joining with Bucciarati, Abbacchio held great shame, afraid to face his sister’s child with those eyes that understood too much at such a young age. Fearing any visit would involve them with the tricky business he got entangled in, the little one becoming a distant and painful memory. If only he knew.

Further events take place after part 5 where everyone survives and La Squadra works under Don Giovanna. At Risotto’s request Pomo was left out of the fights regarding Trish and the Bucci gang.

While out with Melone to buy some more markers, Abbacchio felt like he’d seen a ghost. The familiar figure of his sister’s child standing next to a Passione assassin Bruno had fought not that long ago while he excitedly pointed out stuffed animals through the toyshop’s window. “Pomo?” Abbacchio had crept closer, carefully assessing if it were smart to approach. Melone had turned before Pomo could, eyeing the familiar gangster before him. “What do you need with Pomo?” Melone’s features hardened into a scowl while searching for their hand. All Pomo could do was stare up at their uncle they hadn’t seen in what felt like forever.

“What’s going on, is everything alright Pomo?” That deep voice reminding them of when he last visited, the voice that told them to never let their resolve falter, ever. “First of all, answer my question. What do you want with them?” Melone stepped forward, never one to initiate conflicts but needing an explanation as to why Leone Abbacchio knew their teammate that had explicitly never been in contact with his side of Passione. “That’s my sister’s kid. Step down you idiot. I’m not here to start shit. Now answer me; what are they doing with you?” Abbacchio growled back at the lithe man, searching Pomo’s eyes for an answer. “Pomo is part of our team. Been so for almost a year now.” He calmed down as he remembered all the fond memories they’d made together, even after the horrible fights with the other gangster’s team.

The amount of shock and confusion Abbacchio felt was immeasurable. After many “what”’s and “how”’s Melone calmly explained that Pomo had quite the powerful stand and still wanted to be part of their squad. “We ask every once in a while if they still want this. Never said no so far.” Melone practically beamed, the other man still trying to process the explanation. Pomo quickly understood their uncle’s position as well, clearly another member of Passione as they connected the dots. That small kid has never hurt anyone -that he knew of- and now they’re an assassin already in possession of a stand? What the actual fuck. His knees began to feel weak, looking for support as he slid down the toyshop’s windowsill. “I’m sorry.” Hands scrambling at his scalp while he stared at the ground, despair filling every inch of his being. Another person he cared about thrown into the complicated landscape of Passione.

The little one reached out their hand at the man that had meant so much to them, one of the only ones to ever offer the child any semblance of a connection. Until Pomo met their new family. A soft pat on the uncle’s platinum strands, grazing the man’s overworked hands. Melone felt his intrusion, staring off into the crowd as he kept some distance, sure to be within ample reach; should anything happen.

Abbacchio had grown so much, learned that his life was worth living. Following his sisters’s advice to strengthen his resolve and to never let it falter like he did before joining Passione. But this one memory, this one being of the past had made its way back. The child he so lovingly took care of and the pain he felt to have left them behind crashing through him as he sat there. Remembering his capo’s words, his kindness and that look of care and understanding making him reach up to the little hand. Memories of them fussing over touches reminding him a hug wasn’t possible. As his eyes met Pomo’s, the ones that always understood the ones they looked in but never let you know what was being kept behind their own. “I’m sorry for leaving you.” He uttered, the small hand getting enveloped in his bigger ones, begging them for forgiveness. “I’ve missed you.” the child spoke, their expression ever unchanging as Abbacchio felt tears flood his eyes and spill onto his cheeks. The purple haired man that had been following along from a distance couldn’t help but blink away his feelings, pitying the small one.

“Never let your resolve falter.” Pomo repeated. The words they’d clung to, any semblance of purpose all pinned on the only advice they’ve ever received. “Ever.” Abbacchio replied, squeezing the small hand between his before wiping away the tears, his actions were forgiven but not forgotten. “Are you ready, kid?” Melone stepped back into reach, offering a hand to the man he’d called an enemy not too long ago, helping him up. A quick nod from the child, a sliver of relief finally being felt, their uncle was still safe and alive. “You know where to find us. Don’t hesitate to come.” Waving goodbye as they entered the store, Melone offering as much assurance he could muster for his now-colleague. But mostly in awe of the child’s strength, they really were something else, huh.

[wickedgamesoyaoya]

⇺ ⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂ ⇻

↣ Masterpost

↣ inspired by @haik-choo’s post

↣ wc: 1.7k 

↣ warnings: some self inflicted pain (nothing major!), cheating mentions, serious heartbreak. 

↣  song recommendation:  tolerate it - taylor swift 

↣  preamble (as written by haik-choo):  akaashi keiji doesn’t get that not everyone can understand how someone feels with one look. he puts an extra sugar in his coffee and expects you to know that he wants to go out to a bakery, he clicks his red pens a few extra times and expects you to know that he needs refills – he says he has a lot of work tonight and expects you to make him midnight snacks. to him, that stuff is easy. why can’t you understand him? he does it for you – he shouldn’t have to say it out loud. you should already know what he’s thinking. if you don’t, maybe you don’t love him as much as he thought you did.

The complexity of love has never been accurately represented in the media. Films present reality through the lens of a fractured mirror to provide viewers a sense of emotion they cannot find elsewhere. Fairy tales are perhaps the worst form of media to exist. They are created to be consumed by young impressionable children who develop unrealistic expectations that are later thrust upon the unfortunate souls that become their partners. You were one of those children who bought the falsities sold to you. Love was something magical, the intertwining of two hearts.

You were sixteen when you fell in love for the first time. Enthralled by how one emotion could paint new colours in the horizons, you allowed yourself to fall… it was perfect, until you found yourself crying on the bathroom floor, wondering why the fairy tales lied to you.

You were seventeen when you first experienced heart break. Even now, you can remember the shame that drenched your soul when you learned that the one you loved, had slept with someone else. Each inch of your skin was tainted by your “prince charming.”

That night, your mother had to drag you out of the bath. The pads of your toes and fingers had shriveled up, while your arms and legs burned a bright crimson from the incessant scrubbing. Yet the tingling of your skin was merely a scratch in comparison to the laceration inside of your heart, and there was no band aid that you could apply there.

That was December 3rd 2014 – the date you abandoned your foolish ideals.

You met Akaashi Keiji exactly six months later.

If you were ever asked to describe the mystery that is Keiji, where would you begin? Were there truly any words that could accurately capture the very essence of his kind soul? Or the depth of this mesmerizing eyes? How would you possibly begin to explain how a single caress by his calloused fingertips had melted away the imaginary grime that had coated your skin? If anyone was prince charming, it was him.

But little did you know that sometimes he doubted whether you were his Cinderella. His happily ever after…

The first indication of his veiled concerns occurred in your last year of high school. With the departure of his third-year friends, Akaashi was titled captain of the boy’s volleyball team. While he enjoyed volleyball, he was never obsessed with the sport like his best friend. Volleyball was his hobby, nothing more and nothing less. He was more concerned with maintaining his high academic record than securing a ticket to nationals. Last year balancing the various fragments of his life was simple. But the absence of his friends weighed on him, each day the anxiety increased until he could barely sit without jitters swarming his limbs. As his girlfriend, you should have known the stress he was battling… Sure, he was pushing you away, but you should have known why.

Yet, when you attempted to thwart his efforts to establish distance, you were chastised for your lack of understanding.

“Y/n. I am busy. Please do not disturb me during practice.” Not the slightest bit of respect was allocated to you, despite your status as his girlfriend. And while his pointed response was undoubtedly directed towards to you, his attention was on the practice commencing inside of the gym. “Listen, I need to go back. If you want to talk, consider picking a more appropriate time in the future.” Rolling the towel within his grasp, he refused to acknowledge you beyond sharing these words.

“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” To even utter an apology stole the limited resolve you had to address the situation. How much did you have to degrade yourself to fix a relationship he evidently did not want?

But the following day at lunch period, a dozen roses were delivered to you with an apology note attached to the stems. It was only natural for you to grant him the forgiveness he sought. Dismissing his actions was simple once you rationalized it as a normal reaction to an abundance of pressure. Diamonds may be created under pressure, but he was no diamond, and neither were you.

The second indication of his concealed doubts did not emerge from a set of actions, nor did it include the exchange of harsh words. Rather, it was his silence that nurtured your insecurities and provided you confirmation that while he was your happily-ever-after, you may not be his.

To celebrate Keiji’s 19th birthday, his mother had offered to host a gathering at his childhood home. When the details of the party were conveyed to you, excitement had fluttered to life inside of your stomach. It was the perfect opportunity to develop your relationship with the woman who had raised your wonderful boyfriend. Yet, not even the purest of intentions would save you from the humiliation that awaited you that night.

At one point of the evening, Keiji had vanished for a considerable amount of time. Naturally, you searched the house for your boyfriend. When you peaked inside of the kitchen, you found him engaging in a conversation with his mother. You almost called out to him instinctively, except your vocal cords denied you access when you caught the end of their conversation.  

“Has she been tending to your needs yet? Or has she remained as useless as before?” The older woman clutched the stem of her wine glass, with a scoff clawing at her throat. It seemed that the liquor coating her tongue had turned the muscular organ into a knife.

Keiji stood with his back pressed against the kitchen island, listening without a reaction. The nonchalance emanating from his demeanour indicated that this was not the first occurrence. No, this had happened before, otherwise he would have had some form of a reaction. A flinch – a twitch – anything. But he stood still, emotionless, distant. The targeting comments were equivalent to a whisper in the wind – not deserving of a response, nor a stir.

“Keiji, you are aware that you are wasting your time and yet you stay with her?” The sigh falling from her stained lips was extended to emphasize her distress, and the gentle sound was enough to weaken your knees.

No longer able to support your own weight, you leaned against the wall, allowing your eyelids to flutter shut. Your fingers tangled with the fabric of your shirt as you waited for his response.

Say something – anything. Just tell her she’s wrong.

Yet the denial never came.  

The first two indications were shoved aside, dismissed with excuses that would serve as a band-aid on your decaying relationship. But then came the third.

The third indication of his doubt occurred on an average college night when you were in the process of selecting your outfit for the night. Bokuto had arranged an unofficial Fukurodani reunion for the boy’s volleyball team. As Keiji’s girlfriend, the invite was naturally extended to you. Usually your boyfriend would be in higher spirits knowing that he would soon be in the company of his high school friends. But tonight, a frown remained etched into his features, not wavering for even a single moment.

“Which one? I don’t want to be underdressed. But on the other hand, Kou is always dressed really weird. So, I don’t know.” Two outfits were presented towards the male, a scarlet cocktail dress and a navy pantsuit with a low cut.

“Does it matter, y/n?” The sharp remark was blown out with a heavy sigh. It was as though he could not muster the energy to care for your feelings. Or perhaps, he simply chose to display his inner conflict, with no concern of the consequences of his decision.

The noise was startling enough to strip you of the excitement that once animated your movements.

“I guess not, but is it wrong that I want to look good for my boyfriend?” The counter question was voiced barely above a whisper, with each word sounding fainter than the last.

“Maybe if you knew me well enough you wouldn’t have to ask.” His eyes did not meet yours, rather they stayed fixed on the writing utensil within his grasp. “It’s not that hard, y/n. You just don’t care enough to put in the effort.”

The verbal assaults implanted daggers into your chest, but the pain would only become worse – since he was not done just yet.

“If you refuse to love me with your entire heart, what is the point? Let me go.”

“Keiji!” Pain cut along the inside of your throat from the shriek erupting from your chest. Had you ever screamed his name in quite a harsh manner? Liquid blurred your vision, and with your air-filled organs wheezing in distress, your words were stated between staggered breaths.

“I am not a fucking mind reader.” The fog of desperation encompassing you was comprised of poison, one that soon threaded throughout your system. The properties of the poison enflamed your lungs, burning the organs and halting the flow of air. Instinctively your hands were sent to your skin, clawing at the flesh as if you could simply rip out the emotions suffocating you. “Just because I don’t love you the way you think I should, doesn’t mean I don’t.” Whether the words spilling from your lips were responsible for the bitter taste in your mouth, or the tears now gracefully parading down your cheeks was unknown. Either way, the release of the steaming liquid eased the burning sensation in your lungs.

“I’m done, Keiji. I’m done.” Slowly claiming your insides was a thin layer of ice. By now, you had run out of excuses for his behaviour. There were no longer any band-aids you could use to tend to the wounds. The question of whether your boyfriend considered you “the one” was answered.

Despite the ache weaving into your muscles, your feet dragged you to the front door. A piece of you desired to catch one final glimpse of him – as your heart knew this would be the final time you would see him. But afraid you would lose your resolve to leave, you pressed the car keys against your palm, and remained fixed on the exit.

Behind you, the brunette voiced a weak apology – you were unable to catch the exact words, as they were muffled by the fabric of his sleeves. But not even the sweetest words could remedy the situation. Since, now you had accepted the truth.

Love was never a fairy-tale, and Akaashi Keiji was not a prince. Love would never be what you wanted it to be, and it would always hurt.

Love would always hurt.

A/N: I ended up finishing this today because I got into a bad mood and so I needed to channel it into something lol 

Taglist: @sayakaaaaaa @sanitisegermsfree @haikyuufairy @newfriendjen @lvoejimin @moonlightaangel @gyozaaaaa @byun-nies @thevillagehiddenintheinternet @amberalisa @graykageyama @yourstarvic @chaichai-the-weeb @chibishae34 @haikyuusimp91 @volleybloop  @rajablast @idiot-juice-enthusiast @melonmayhere @cuddlesslut  @athenarosaline @memes-and-money @coconut-dreamz  @mismatched-loves @elianetsantana @tsumume @tsukkismamagucci @the-golden-jhope @camcam1617 @prettyforpapiiwa @swoonhui​ @neobakas​ @azumane-kun @elephantloser​ @dreamstormings​ @anejuuuuoy​   

~ message me to be removed from the general taglist + bolded means I can’t tag ya 

[scottfuckingreed]

It’s a Pogue Thing - Part Two

This is a JJ Maybank story :)

Requested

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Warnings!: swearing and it gets sexual (SMUT)

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“That’s disgusting,” Ki grunts as we watch JJ spit into an impressively far distance. Today we sailed to a small piece of island in the middle of the ocean. Between the blue sky, and the slightly green water it’s quite beautiful. Not a cloud in sight either, which is a somewhat odd thing for the Outer Banks. Some would call it peaceful, except we seem to hang around with complete animals. The JJ smirk spreads across his face. “You know you love it,” he winks. With a laugh, I sigh. “That’s even worse.”

You’d think it was awkward. I mean, how can you go from being friends, to sleeping together, back to normal again? I don’t know. Over the past week it’s been indifferent. Sure, it was a bit weird the first day. Maybe even the second. I’m still in shock that it happened. Once we cleaned up my house after the party, the ice was pretty much broken. We know where we stand with each other.

“Are you seeing Sarah today?” I ask John B. I notice Kiara roll her eyes so I flash her an ‘I’m sorry for bringing it up’ look. He clears his throat. “No... why would I be seeing Sarah today?” His tone comes off slightly defensive. I imagine it’s because Ki’s here, and he once had a thing for her? Maybe he still does. “I don’t know. Was she any help at the party?” We haven’t spoken much about the party; any of us. I, for one, am a bit relieved. “A little, but Topper started following us around,” of course. I’m not sure if she has him on a leash, or the other way around. “Still a good party though,” he nudged. If he thinks that’ll get me to throw another one, he can think again. “Thank JJ, I didn’t even wanna be there,” I laugh jokingly. “You can definitely thank me, you seemed like you had a good time in the end,” his words send shivers down my spine. I’m thankful for the concealer on my face as I feel my cheeks redden at his husky voice. “I don’t know, maybe it was the alcohol,” my head turns to his. “Maybe.”

We sail straight back to John B’s house. “You guy’s can crash here if you’d like,” he shrugs. With his dad gone, it’s a pretty empty house. I know we all fantasise about a parent-free life sometimes, but I can’t actually imagine the feeling of someone never coming home. “I’ve actually gotta go. My mum’s cooking dinner tonight... you guys hungry?” I ask. John B sends a warm smile my way. “Thanks, but I got left over pizza inside.” “Nice,” I laugh. I shift my eyes over to Kiara. “I think I’ll stay and help John B tidy up a bit.” If you visualise a teenage boy’s room, his entire house looks like that 24/7. Beer bottles, left over takeaway boxes, smelly ass clothing thrown around. “Suit yourselves.” I lock eyes with Pope, and I already know the answer. “You know my dad’ll kill me if I don’t get my ass home and check in.” A smile spreads across JJ’s face. “I’m not stupid enough to turn down mama Y/L/N’s cooking,” he chuckles.

As soon as we walk through my front door, my mum is all over JJ. She loves him. Usually the parents despise the boys like him. He’s the bad boy! But no. She still sees him as this cute, cheeky boy. “Mama Y/L/N! Long time no see,” JJ exclaims with a cute smile on his face, bringing my mum in for a hug. She squeezes him back in a tight embrace. “It’s been too long, how are you?!”

The conversation flows smoothly throughout dinner. It’s actually nice, not that I’d ever tell my mum that. She needs to think I’m embarrassed, when in reality I love that it’s so chill. “Did you guys enjoy the party the other night?” My mum asks as if it hasn’t been playing on her mind throughout the entirety of dinner. She’s asked me, but I won’t tell her anything. So, of course she asks JJ; he will answer. “Oh it was great! Y/N and I had a great time!” He smiles greatly. In a quick moment that my mum isn’t looking his way, he winks subtly at me. “Really? She hasn’t said much about it.” This is one of those moments where you wish you could send a telepathic message to someone. It would scream ‘stop before it’s too late’! “It’s probably because Rafe turned up.” There it is. I immediately just want to shrivel up and crawl away. My mum’s eyes widen. “Shit, I hate that guy.” JJ sends an agreeing nod. At least we’re all on the same page here. Like with other things, I’ve kept Rafe as much to myself as I possibly can from my mum. She knows he was nasty, but not in much detail. She knows he hurt me, but not in any specific way. In a very vague way, she knows everything she needs to. Just to hate him. “He’s a dick.” “This is why I like you JJ,” my mum pauses. Her face as she processes her possible next words. I raise my eyes brows in a warning manner.

After dinner, JJ offered to help my mum clean up. You may think it’s cute, but I know this boy’s games. He can’t fool me. “Are you staying to watch a movie JJ?” She asks, passing the boy a plate to dry. Before he can answer, I interrupt. “Can you give us a second actually, please?” I smile innocently towards her. Her eyes widen and she wiggles her eyebrows at me. “Sure.”

“What are you playing at?” I giggle. Recently, although I hate to admit it, JJ’s company has honestly been what I’m craving. Somehow a he’s so predictable, yet he surprises me every time. “I’m not doing anything Y/N, you’re reading into things.” He dries his last plate and puts the pile into a cupboard. Of course he knows exactly where they go. “You’re not staying for the movie,” I warn him. Even with my mum there, I don’t trust him. I don’t even trust myself. “What are you watching?” He asks. “I don’t know. I think my mum was on about watching ‘Now You See Me’ or something.” His face lights up. “Come on Y/N! I love that one.” I shake my head. I don’t want to want him here. “Please,” he sticks his bottom lip out. Because of my lack of reaction, he brings his head closer. He was so close that I could feel his breath on my face. A feeling that took me straight back to the party. A moment that I am trying so hard to not think about.

Unfortunately JJ has something about him. He’s painfully hard to say no to a lot of the time. So, here he is, helping bring down some blankets from upstairs. Despite the fact that our friendship should be ruined at this point. I’m starting to think that this may just be an exception. Why should it ruin everything? It was nothing. Before going back downstairs, I change into an oversized hoodie and some shorts.

My mum makes popcorn whilst we get things set up. Some soft blankets and even comfier pillows are arranged on the couch. I sit myself in the middle, with JJ on my right and my mum on my left. A part of me wanted to have my mum split us up, but that would’ve just looked strange. My eyes light up when I catch a glimpse of the popcorn bowl. “Let’s get started then.”

As the movie starts, I begin to get more excited. “I’m excited,” I smile massively. The more I think about it, the more hyped up I get. “I didn’t know this was your sort of thing,” JJ mutters with a smirk. Of course it’s a great movie, but that’s not what it is. “I watch it for the plot,” I smirk back. The plot being Dave Franco and Jesse Eisenberg. I express my love for the two beauties, only for JJ to simply state “I am so much better looking than them.” I snort at his words. “Whatever.”

20 or so minutes go by. My mum has already started nodding off, and I am beginning to get myself comfy. Without thinking, I nudge myself a bit closer to JJ. I didn’t even have to look at him to notice the growing smirk. The best thing, I thought, was to pretend I didn’t notice what I was doing. I bring my feet up, and lean them against his leg. A small noise exits JJ’s mouth, which sounded like a small chuckle. “Sorry I-” I start. My words pause at the touch of JJ’s fingertips. Even before they touched my bare thigh, I could feel their presence. “JJ,” instead of being a warning, my voice let’s put a wobbled whisper. “It’s fine,” he presses his lips together in a smile. I couldn’t tell his to move his hand away. I didn’t want him to. So I let him sandwich his hand between my thighs.

His hand, large and warm, sat nicely. It felt like an average thing. Every now and then he gently squeezed against my bare skin. Whirlpools. That’s the only way I can describe the way my stomach flipped. I thought, stupidly, that with my mum inches away it would turn everything off. Of course, that is not the case. JJ tries to be slick as he moves his hand further up my thigh. The first time, I do nothing. I’m not sure what to do. But the second, I cup my hand over his. Just as I’m about to tell him off in a whisper, my mum yawns. My heart jumps. “Shit guys, I should probably go to bed,” she stands and stretches. I try and make it look like JJ and I aren’t sitting so close. “You can stay over though JJ, finish the movie.”

My mum wanders out the room. We’re silent as we hear her footsteps all the way upstairs. Until her bedroom door shuts. “You’re not sleeping over,” I try not to smile as I say those words. The truth is, these little flirting games, send rushes through my body. Just like shockwaves. Now we’ve acted on it and I’m not sure how to resist my current urges. “Sure,” and he slides his hand up a bit higher. I grunt, accidentally making it sound slightly like a moan. Oops. That’s embarrassing. “I- uh- we-,” There’s no getting out of this one. I have no choice but to stop myself from uttering another word. I cannot even find the words to sort into a fully functioning sentence. The tension in the air was thick. So thick you would struggle to cut it with any knife; it would simply be too blunt. There were seconds of silence that just dragged on too long. As the tips of his fingers on his right hand trace along my jaw, guiding my head to turn to face him, I find myself lusting for him. “Give in to me Y/N.” Some things are just too hard to resist. Especially when it’s purely sexual. It’s as if my silence screamed for him to continue. Maybe it was radiating through my body. Even if I did speak, I couldn’t hear myself. The only noise was the dangerously loud thumping of my heart as his fingers continued on the trail. My heat was throbbing. He isn’t even doing anything. At this point, probably doesn’t need to. Am I wrong if I just let him? It feels that if I give in, I’m not only betraying the other Pogues, but maybe even myself. This was the deal. Then again, a promise that I made years ago. I was younger then. I’ve changed since then. I don’t care about that shit anymore.

That’s it. I start leaning in. To feel my lips against his, and finally give in to him. Then...

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He grunts, rolling his eyes back into his head as his phone goes off. Facetime. My body leans back in a mix of defeat and relief. I rub my eyes and my face, and hear the sound of JJ answering. “What’s up?” I pretend to shuffle up to JJ, although our legs were still touching anyway. “You’re interrupting-” “The movie,” I rush, feeling the need to cut JJ’s sentence off. “So you don’t wanna come over?” Ki erupts from the background. With a piece of pizza in each of their hands, I realize I do. Being with them, and their cock-blocking asses sounds perfect. A glace comes from the boy next to me. His eyes screamed no. Every part of my body agreed with him. My brain, however, disagreed. “Sure.” His eyes widen. Another eye roll. “We’ll be there in 30.” And he hangs up.

“Why do we need 30 minutes?” I laugh, standing up and gently folding the blanket poorly. I turn down the tv before turning it off. Like a child, I notice JJ with a rather grumpy look on his face. “Come on, you’re not that upset are you?” I ask, trying to hold in my laughter. “I’m pretty pissed Y/N I’m not gonna lie,” he says with a half smile creeping. “We still have time... 30 minutes to be exact...” His hand reaches over to my arm. His soft fingertips slide from my elbow, down to my hand. With that comes a pull. I land perfectly on his lap. A leg either side of his. I try and contain my thoughts. I cannot control my hands as they sit on his face. It’s hard to keep my head straight when JJ’s hands run up and down my thighs. All I can think about is the thin clothing between our crotches. So little, yet way too much. I close my eyes for a second. Just to absorb the sensation. Then it’s time for reality. “Not now.” I whisper. A heavy breath leaves him. “Fine, but you owe me.” As much as I’d love to deny it, it’s promise I’m more than willing to keep. I pull my head away from his, presenting my pinky finger to him. A smile, isn’t cute to me at all, gleams; it radiates. So much so that its contagious. Our pinky’s lock. “Yeah?” The blend of his smile and tone screams extreme excitement. “Cross my heart Maybank.”

John B’s house was now clean. I don’t think I’ve seen for the floor for months. Although I don’t blame him for the way he’s lived for the past few months, It was beginning to get a bit much. He very persistent. I know he’s still waiting for his father to come home. That being said, Kiara clearly was the one who cleaned. “Wow, the shitty smell has faded,” I hit JJ as those words fall from his mouth. That boy has zero filter. “It looks great, I’d love to know how much you helped though Johnny,” I assure him with a smirk, nudging John B on the shoulder. 

“So, what are we doing?” I ask. As soon as the words left my mouth, I realised that I probably didn’t want to know. John B says nothing, just simply forced a smile. Jesus Christ. Instead I look at Kiara. “He said Sarah’s information gave a lead. He wants us to follow it.” I look down at my outfit. I still have my fucking nightwear on. I should’ve known. I’m the stupid one here. Damn. I actually thought we would maybe just sleep for once. 

With John B in the drivers seat and Kiara in the passenger, it left Pope, JJ and I in the back. I found myself staring at the stars flying past as we drove. The Outer Banks is a totally different place at night. It’s beautiful. It’s also scarier and creepier, but we cross those bridges when we get to them. “Hey,” JJ nudges me gently with a whisper. “You alright?” I nod slowly. I wouldn’t say this to John B, but honestly it’s worrying. This whole thing has become an obsession. I know it’s his dad, and I know he misses him like crazy, but is there really a chance he’s alive? And why has this whole thing been so mysterious and chaotic? “What’s up with you two?” It’s only when I hear Pope’s voice that I remember that we’re back as a group right now. “Are you feeling left out?” Is JJ’s response. I try and keep my smile contained. He just has this tone, and facial expression, where you can’t take him seriously. “I didn’t know you felt that wa-” 

“What the fuck John B?” Kiara snaps in an angry mumble. Before the van even stops Ki opens the door and hops out. We haven’t been driving for long, so we can’t be far. Kiara, with an extremely miserable face, hops into the back with the rest of us. I go to ask, but I see Sarah Cameron climb into the front passenger seat. What is this boy playing at? “Oh shit,” I whisper in JJ’s direction. A slight chuckle comes out, purely amazed at the balls on this boy. “Hi guy’s!” Sarah smiles enthusiastically. I feel somewhat obligated to respond. As I’ve mentioned previously, I’ve never had a massive problem with her. “Hey Sarah.” I feel bad for both sides. John B shouldn’t put Kiara into these situations as he knows she doesn’t like her. Then again, I think Ki needs to not be so rude sometimes. Right now, that’s not going to happen. Might as well just enjoy the awkward car journey. 

Sarah and John B giggle away in the front as if they have been life long friends. The rest of us, not including Kiara, sent awkward eyes each other’s ways. Ki sulked silently. So I go back to staring outside. It’s hard not to imagine what it would be like to be free. The Outer Banks area is all I know. My family may ‘have money’, but our trips have always been within an hour’s drive. There’s a world beyond this. There is so much more to see and explore. Maybe that’s why we’re all so hung up on these mini impossible adventures. We’re craving something more.

John B’s plan, he said, was simple. A clue has led us to an area of green. “There has to be something here. We’re close. I can feel it,” his words sound hopeful, despite the wobbly tone to his voice. “Can’t we do this in the morning? We’re not going to find anything in the pitch black,” Pope was right. But John’s desperate. I would be too. “We’ll just have a quick look around,” he promises. He wanders to the back of the van, and takes out some torches. “I think we should split up into three pairs,” when Sarah speaks, I can automatically feel the rage coming off of Kiara. With an excessive eye roll, she might as well have just said something. Everyone else must’ve seen it, but it get’s ignored. Probably best not to fight in the darkness, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by trees. I send a quick smile Sarah’s way. “Okay. So... I’ll go with Sarah. You and JJ, and Kiara and Pope.” 

“Don’t look so smug,” I warn the smirking JJ as we separate from the others in our direction. It’s pretty typical for us to be paired, but we also do make the best team. With a torch, I look around as if I know what I’m looking for. “This is going to be impossible,” I grunt already in defeat. I really want to help John B, but I don’t even think he’s helping himself at this point. How long is this going to go on for? “Do you think he’s alive?” JJ asks in a whisper. It’s a question, I think, we’ve all been too afraid to ask. John’s answer is simple. We wouldn’t be searching for clues in the middle of the night if he didn’t. I hesitate. As I shake my head, my heart breaks a little. I wish I did. It would make things a little easier. “Me neither.”

Although being surrounded by trees at night is usually the scene of a horror movie, it’s rather beautiful. Scary, but beautiful. Around 15 minutes has passed since we split from the others and no one has found anything; I assume anyway. There is zero service on our phones, so really we have no idea, but my gut is telling me that there’s nothing to find. “I spy with my little eye, something beginning with G,” I smile. For about 5 minutes, we’ve been playing I-Spy. Perhaps at the hope of us ‘spying’ something we usually wouldn’t spot. Unfortunately, that has not been the case. I’ve been the one annoyingly asking, and he’s just been playing along to humor me. “I swear to god Y/N if it’s grass...” He warns. Like I said, we’ve seen nothing but the wilderness. “My turn.” 

As someone who pretty much refused to play, I was interested to see what better he could do. There’s nothing to see. “I spy something beginning Y.” Okay. I immediately start looking around, into the darkness. This is only I-Spy, but I need to win. JJ is one cocky mother fucker. I turn to him and frown. “Y? You know you have to actually be able to see this thing right?” I finish my sentence. Two hands go to my waist, guiding me backwards. “It was “You up against a tree, naked.” And I was. Well, I was pressed against the tree. My heartbeat went from a normal pace, to almost having a sudden heart attack in seconds. I open my mouth to speak, but no words seem to come. What is wrong with me? “I make you speechless,” he leans down to my ear and whispers. I still say nothing. As I finally feel words ready to be released, I get interrupted. And no, not by JJ. 

We walk back to the van in silence. Trying to hold everything in, I restrain my need to smile and let out a giggle. I’m thankful to see the others. “How did the searching go?” John B asks as we finally become a group again. “We didn’t find anything,” A big part of me wished we would’ve found something. Not that me and JJ were properly looking, but it would’ve been nice to come back with some hope. “I’m sorry guys. We should’ve waited until the morning to look around,” Unsure if anyone else saw what I did, I glance around. Sarah - only for a second - nudged her hand against him. I can’t help but find it cute. 

Once we dropped Sarah and Pope home, we all went back to John B’s as planned. “You two can take the bed,” he, the gentleman he is, gestures towards the bedroom. John B’s dad’s room is locked. “I don’t mind sleeping-” “Just take the bed,” his voice, which was quite assertive, was joined by a smile. Without even thinking, I wrap my arms around John. “We will find something,” I assure him. He need to believe it, whether I do or not. I kiss him on the cheek. “I love you John.” In true JJ fashion, he joins in on the hug. “Wow I love you guy’s too.” “Hey! I wanna join,” I chuckle as Kiara swerves herself into the huddle. “Okay, that’s enough!”

So I lay there; just staring at the ceiling. Kiara is already asleep. I’m jealous. I’ve tried. It’s hard to sleep with all these thoughts going through my head. There’s too much going on. 

‘Are you awake?’ I text JJ. Within seconds I get a reply.

‘Do you need some company ;)’ I roll my eyes, more at the fact that he knows I do. 

‘You gotta get your mind out the gutter ;)’

My stomach turns at the response. I read it over and over, just to get it to stick. The picture those words paint in my head should be illegal. Words like that should be a crime. I’ll just read it once more.

‘I’d rather have my head between your legs’.

How does he expect me to sleep after that? I try and keep my eyes closed, but the only way they do is if I squeeze them shut. I hear quiet footsteps. When I let my eyes go, I see JJ tip-toeing into the bedroom.  My body sits itself up. “What are you doing?” I ask with haste. His face becomes clearer as he gets closer. “Didn’t you get my text?” He smirks, making my stomach flip just like a gymnast on a trampoline. I refuse stay speechless like earlier. He does not have this affect on me or my body. “Yeah but-” “It’ll help you sleep,” He shrugs, lifting the blanket slightly. “JJ.” I whisper, stopping as soon as an index finger starts trailing up my leg. I want to resist. I’m sure I can. It would be so much easier if I actually wanted to. He gets closer to the top of my thigh. I start asking myself, what if I just let it happen? Just one more time? It can’t hurt. “Y/N.” I was so caught up in my thoughts, I didn’t notice how close JJ’s head was to mine. When our eyes locked, I knew; I knew there was only one way this was going to go. 

I pull his lips down onto mine. I hate admit it, but the main thing that came to mind was ‘finally’. JJ doesn’t hesitate to start lining kisses from my lips down to my neck. Forgetting where I am, more importantly forgetting the fact that Kiara was inches away, I let out a slight moan. I immediately cover my lips. He lets out a deep but quiet laugh. “Shit,” I feel my cheeks begin to redden, and I’m instantly thankful for it being dark. “I have that affect on people,” shaking my head, I push him gently. “Yeah yeah.”

I hardly realized at first, but I was pushing his head lower. If I’m being honest, I was getting desperate now. I need him. Now. The tips of his fingers hook around the outsides of my shorts, smoothly down my thighs in the process. He didn’t hesitate removing my underwear quickly after, placing it next to the bed on the floor. 

A soft kiss gets placed on the inside of my thigh. I was already wet. Possibly the worst thing would be for him to know that he now has this hold over my body. A temporary hold. It won’t last. Another kiss, closer to my heat now. I wished to shout at him. He’s a teasing asshole. One more, the last one, gently exactly where I desired him. “Fuck,” he whispers, so attractively. His hand grips both of my thighs, pulling me closer to him. He attaches his lips to my throbbing heat. A deep breath exits my mouth. My hand goes straight to his hair, scrunching my fingers and pulling. Every fiber of my being wanted to moan. The pleasure shooting through my body was immense. As his tongue swirls with skill, he sends my body into a growing frenzy. Perhaps it’s the build up. Whatever it is, it feels amazing. His tongue starts concentrating mainly on my clit. Between every suck, every nibble, my stomach started building a tight knot already. My thighs clamp around his head, which he opens back up without interrupting his work. If I’d have known how good he was at this, maybe I would’ve given in a little sooner. “Oh my,” I whisper as quietly as I can. My breaths were loud enough. His arms hook a tighter hold on my thighs to keep my in place, as my body moving uncontrollably. I was so close. I knew he could feel it too. The knot begins to tighten, excitement growing more and more. And I let go, bringing a release that - although was only growing for a day - was much needed. I press my mouth against my arm to contain the majority of my moan. He gracefully lets me ride out my high, until I’m even more of a heavy-breathing mess beneath him. 

He unhooks himself. I can’t help but smile massively at him as his face comes into view. “Don’t,” I stop his words with a whisper. His eyebrows raise. I do wish he wouldn’t always have that fuckboy smile on his face. “Go back to the couch,” I nudge him on the shoulder. As quietly as he can, he gets up off the bed. He comes close to my ear once more. “Bet you can sleep now.” 

And I did.

Tag list:

@nevinna

If you are interested, here’s the link to Part Three :)

[raeisgrayte]

Must Be Fa(e)te~ Chapter One

There was a fable my mother used to tell me all the time when I was a little girl. It was about a regal queen, a noble monarch who lead her people with pride, though I always thought the princess was my favorite character. She was a warrior who fought in the great war against the human realm. She was someone who stood up for what she thought was right, like fighting against the humans polluting the beautiful springs that the merfolk of Wellspring lived in. The best part about the princess though, was her rainbow wings. My mother told of how the princess only used them when absolutely necessary. She was more of a walking girl, she liked taking walks through the forest's abundant beauty. She was magical, too magical. That's how I knew my mom was making this up as she went.

I only wish it were true, then maybe I could actually blame a real life person for making me the homosexual I am today. Instead when people ask about my "awakening" I have to tell them I fell in love with a made-up fairy princess when I was 3. Usually they giggle and agree that they knew it at a young age too, but some want to know more about the story. I always tell them, it's a good story after all. It leaves my lips turned up in a smile afterwards, thinking about magic and gay shit.

God how I yearn for some excitement around this town. We all just walk around with somewhere to go. I never saw someone stop by to smell the roses unless they were with a loved one. I let out a large sigh, putting my left hand on the wooden counter in my grandfather's pop up flower shop, Love You Florever. It was a play on the word floral, but I think everyone I tell about the flower shop understands, I just want to make sure. There are the people who give me a strange look and then those who seem genuinely happy that my grandfather was such a punster. I miss him.

I hear the ding of the bell before I can go into one of those really sad moments where I start thinking about all the lovely memories I had with my grandad. I will not be having a sad montage in my head today! Not after what happened last time. I'm still stuck in my thoughts, trying to be funny, when I hear someone clear their throat. I cringe at how awkward I must look right now laughing at my own jokes, inside my head. "Ahaha, heyyyyyy, welcome to Love You Florever! Would you like to-" My brain short circuits when I finally meet the gaze of the goddess who has stepped foot into the shop. Oh lawdy I'm about to faint. She has beautiful almond brown eyes with a mole under her left eye. I'm drawn to the envious length of her lashes and how they brush gently against her cheeks as she blinks. She has short ebony hair that shimmers in the setting sunlight. Her lips curve up in a smile and she tilts her head curiously.

"Would I like to what?" She teases, a small laugh leaving her mouth. That's it, I give up. If there is a God I'm coming to visit you real soon. This girl was beautiful and her voice is so smooth I thought my brain was oozing out of my ears. I feel my face start to flush from embarrassment.

"Oh-um, sorry. I have trouble thinking sometimes." I laugh and scratch the back of my neck nervously.

"Like a medical thing?" She questions, her eyes flashing with concern like she had offended me. My eyes go wide and I shoot out my hand shaking it in a 'no' manor.

"No no no no, oh god no! You're fine, I  mean like my brain just-" I hit my head softly to insinuate that I'm just a dumb gay bitch, "you know, doesn't work? Especially around pretty women- I mean," I drag my hand down my face. "Fuck." I whisper through gritted teeth. This makes her laugh loudly, so much that she wipes her eyes. She lays a hand down on the counter and grins at me.

"Thank you and I totally get the whole brain malfunction thing." She smirks as her eyes search my face. I feel like she's trying to indirectly tell me something. After an awkward amount of silence she bends her other hand at the wrist in the viral tik-tok "hey I'm gay" gesture. If this were a movie I'd look into the camera as everything pauses and I'd say oh my god, a gay.

I shake my head in understanding now. "Ah." I squeeze my eyes shut and let out a small chuckle. "I'm so sorry, um, would you like to buy anything?" I ask with a smile. I was running the store after all. I had to try to make some money. Her lips lift in a big smile and she suddenly looks nervous.

"Well, actually I came in here because you were the only flower I saw in here." First off, rude. She covers her face as a blush starts to form. Second of all, awww. I didn't really know what to say. I mean I could tell she was trying to hit on me, but her game was a little off. We'd just met and I don't know if she's a killer or something- oh who am I kidding?

"Oh really? That sounds about right to me." I smile as her face lights up.

"Oh gosh! I was so nervous but also confident that you weren't straight. I was so scared that I had misjudged you and there would be this whole thing-" Bo Burnham's Welcome to the Internet starts playing and I scramble to find my phone. I look at her apologetically as I finally find my phone buzzing in my back pocket. I see that it's my mom calling me, she knows I'm working the store today. I instantly answer it and turn away from the girl.

"Ello stinky, what are you doing calling me at work?" I ask in a posh British accent. I wait for my mom to reply, but all I hear is silence. Oh my goodness, did she butt dial me? "Mom? Are you there?" A whisper of anxiety drips into my stomach.

"Oralee, did you use my shampoo?" The sound of her voice calms the panic and I roll my eyes simultaneously. Funny how that works. Her shampoo?

"Are you talking about when I took a shower this morning? The strawberry stuff?" I question. I can almost hear my mother's annoyed groan.

"Yes the strawberry stuff, you know I'm going on a date tonight. My hair has to smell like strawberries! You know this." I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose.

"I didn't know you were going on a date tonight. When did that happen? I thought you were done with men and no I didn't use your shampoo." I reply curtly. I hear some shuffling around in the background and then it clears.

"Listen you know I haven't been getting any-"

"Mom! Oh my god! Shut up shut up!" I yell into the phone. I shudder with disgust at the thought of my mom speaking like she was a teen again. I hear her laughing at my pain and I almost hang up. "I cannot believe you, what is wrong with you!?"

"Hey nothing is wrong with me okay? I'm just a bisexual mother who needs two or three people to comfort me in the ways of the b o d y." She whispers the last part and I feel my whole body want to shrivel up and die.

"I cannot believe you. You're a tyrant." I hiss.

"But you love me." She quips.

"Yeah, I do. Now I have to go mom, I have a customer." I smile as I turn around.

"Ooou! Tell me all about her when you get home! Love you!" She yells and before I can ask her how she knew it was a girl she hangs up. I finally look up but the girl that was there before is now gone. I close my eyes and groan. There's goes any hope at living a happy life with a beautiful wife and a dog. I flop down in my swivel chair and continue to watch all the people walk past my beautiful flowers. Everyone was too busy getting somewhere, but I knew one day they'd rush in through my doors wanting some romantic flowers. I close my eyes and take in a deep breath. Yeah, that day will come.

+          +          +          +          +

"Lee do you like this one?" My mother holds up a small red dress with a low v-neck. Her eyebrows wiggle and I can tell she really likes this one.

"Well, let's see it on." I grin as she giddily runs into her ensuite bathroom and shuts the door. I lay back on her bed wishing I had asked that girl to wait for me to finish my phone call. Oh well, I guess it wasn't meant to be. Like most situations with girls, it never ended well for me. There was that time I had a major crush on the barista that worked in the Starbucks across the street from the shop. I convinced myself she had to be gay with how many rings and piercings she had. Turns out that was just how she liked to express herself and I learned quickly that assuming makes an ass out of you and me. You should never place feelings or sexualities on someone you don't know. You shouldn't even do that to someone you do know. Such as myself, I don't like to label myself as bisexual or lesbian, I'm more off the grid I guess. I like men okay, but then some days I will literally vomit at the thought of the male touch. It changes with the breeze to be honest. I just enjoy people's company and if something happens then I guess it does. Though, it never has. My mom has told me the day will come when I want to go serious with someone, but I'm pretty sure she was drunk when she told me that. Honestly I wish I was drunk when she told me that because then I wouldn't have to think that I'm such a failure at this romance shit.  

"So? What do we think?" Mom spins out of the bathroom and into the last bit of sunlight shining through her window. Wow, she looks absolutely gorgeous. I can't help but cover my mouth to hide the smile I have. The dress brushes at her knees and curves up her hips to support her larger than average chest.

"You look gross." I purse my lips and put on my best mean girl face on. She laughs and pushes my shoulder.

"Thanks Lee, I'll be heading out soon. Make sure you take care of Mirage, you know how she likes to let us know when we didn't feed her." I nod and watch as she goes to get ready for a night out. I didn't really care if she went out, I was used to being alone. In fact I appreciated some alone time here and there like everyone else. It was comforting to just be able to scream musical songs without the fear my mom would come join me.

"I'm going to head into my room!" I call into the bathroom. I hear her hum in acknowledgement so I turn on my heel and head towards her door. Mirage, our ragdoll cat purrs as she wraps her body around my legs, nearly tripping me. I grin and bend down to pet her. "Hey girl, you saying bye to mom too? She's going out to find some relief. She's been stressed lately for some reason, but we're going to behave and be nice to her. Right?" Mirage mews at me and I can tell there is nothing behind those eyes. She was just happy to be here. I chuckle and stroke her head. I decide to pick her up and take her with me into my room. I struggle to open my bedroom door with Mirage in my arms, but manage finally to swing open the door. I sigh as I smell the mango air freshener. I set Mirage down on my pink comforter that has a white swirling pattern. Mirage plops down with her muzzle burrowed under the blanket. I smile to myself, it's been a pretty nice Saturday.

I was about to sit down in my desk chair to chill and play some Minecraft, but I realize that I need to close my curtains or else I'm going to forget it all together and I know I'll curse myself in the morning if I don't do it now. I sigh and walk over to my two windows. The purple curtains flutter in the ac gracefully, almost like they're dancing. I grab hold of one of them ready to shut, but as I happen to look out of my window I start to notice someone in the middle of the road. A chill runs down my spin, it was creepy for someone to just be standing there. They could be waiting for someone I guess, but why in the middle of the road? There's a low feeling in the pit of my stomach, but I can't help the peak of curiosity I also feel. After all, my mother was about to go out, I want to make sure she'll be safe. It was a wonderful yet horrible thing that my curiosity would get the best of me every time. I'd so be the first one in a horror movie to just open a random door and get shanked. Anyway, that's not what we should be thinking about right now.

I pear out the glass to try and get a better look at this mystery person. I study their frame, noticing that their back is to me. I tilt my head to try and get a better look, but my eyes widen when I see what looks like them turning their head to look right at me. I audibly gasp as I stumble backwards and trip over the corner of my desk. I thud to the ground and curse under my breath. I rub my back where I hit it on my desk chair. What the fuck was that? I must be so tired I'm starting to see things. I sigh and then laugh at myself. Oralee Turner you cannot just manifest some person in the middle of the road looking right at you. Those are not good vibes. Plus you're not the main character girly, calm down. I mean sure you could be a main character if you put in a little effort but come on let's be real. You'd need to really work on the woe is me mentality. I brought out of my thoughts when I hear my mother's soothing voice behind me.

"Are you okay sweetie? I heard a noise." My mom appears in the doorway and I giggle at her frantic look. This makes her look even more worried. It's fine mom I didn't hit my head.

"Yeah I'm all good, I just need to go to bed I guess. I'm so tired I guess I forgot objects can trip me." I nod my head towards my desk. She clicks her tongue in empathy.

"Did you hurt yourself?" She leans into the room looking for any sign of injury. I shake my head slowly.

"I just bumped my back into the legs of my chair." I grimace as my back throbs.

"Oh hon, I can stay home and put some ice on that? I'll cancel my plans and we can watch a movie together." Her eyes frantically search my face for an answer.

"Mom I'm 18 years old, I think I can ice my own back, but thank you." I smile to try and calm her nerves. I want her to go out and have some fun. She deserved it. She sighs loudly and just when I think she's going to let it go there's a knock on our door. Mirage perks up and mom and I make eye contact. "Door to door service?" I smirk mischievously. I can tell she wants to say something more about our previous conversation, but another knock at the door calls her attention elsewhere.

"We'll talk more when I get home Lee." She turns to walk away but as if she has one last thing to say, she turns back. "Also, she seems like the kind of gal to walk me to her car and such. That's something you should want in someone. A lot of people don't do that now a days you just need to-"

"Mom, oh my gosh just go." I shake my head and try to shoo her away with a hand motion. She rolls her eyes but does as I suggest. I hear a distant voice and debate on meeting this mystery woman, but decide against it. I don't want to ruin the whole thing my mom probably has going. I also don't want this woman to think my mom is a- oh god- a milf. Before I can fold in on myself I hear a notification sound from my phone, which lays forgotten on my bed. "Hey Mirage would you mind growing a human hand to hand me my phone?" Mirage looks me in my eyes and as if directly telling me to fuck off, she hops off my bed and pads over to my closet. "Bitch." I grumble.

I heave myself off the ground with a grunt, only to flop myself down onto my bed. I somehow manage to grab my phone from under my leg. I wonder who would've texted me. I curiously unlock the phone and see a message from my best friend Tabitha.

Tabby: Hey! Let me know if you can make it to the party nerd!

I close my eyes and groan into my pillow. Social interactions in this day and age? No thank you. I'd rather go outside and touch some grass.

Buttface: I'm not sure if Phelo will let me :(

Tabby: You could just go anyway >:( Come on! I'll even drive you!

Buttface: I don't know Tabs, I just feel like it's going to be like last time all over again. You'll be the only one I know and you'll try to set me up with the one lesbian that'll be there. And before you say anything, no- I don't want to loose my virginty to some rando. That's not something cool I want to do.

Tabby: Oh come on that was one time and I said I was sorry :((( She won't even be here this time so you don't have to worry about spilling a drink on her again lol.

Buttface: I will kill you if you mention that once more :} Also fine, since you're a needy bitch I guess I'll stop in. When and where is it again?

Tabby: Don't worry about it, remember I said I'll pick you up! Just be ready around 6 tomorrow :)

Buttface: A Sunday night party? Really? We'll have school the next day.

Tabby: :)

God I wish she was the one with anxiety instead of me. I purse my lips as I remember how many things Tabitha has gotten me into. Like that one time she and I were walking in the park and someone yelled out that we were lesbians and she started to cry. I mean, who does that? Kind of scared me to be honest, I never want to walk with a girl anywhere ever again. Well, no that'd be a lie since women are goddesses and I am a simp.

It's then that I hear another buzz come from my phone. I almost don't look at it, I don't want Tabitha to have sent me something weird. When I look at my screen it's a message from an unknown number. I knit my brows together as I tap the message.

(xxx)xxx-xxxx: Hi, I hope this is Oralee Turner, if not that'd be awkward. You can just delete my message if you aren't her. If you are though, please respond with verification of your identity.

Verification? Who was this? How'd they get my number? This better not be another Tabitha set up. I swear one day I'm going to lock that girl in a room with some random guy I find on the street. I will actually not be doing that because men are scary, especially those who you don't know. I'm about to set my phone down and ignore this obvious scammer message, but for some very odd reason I text them back.

Oralee: Hi? This is she, I don't have your number saved in my phone. Who is this if you don't mind me asking? I don't feel comfortable sharing any information with a complete stranger :( Have to make sure you're not a scammer.

(xxx)xxx-xxxx: I understand completely! Of course you'd be cautious of an unknown number! Let me share some things that might make you a little more comfortable with who I am :) My name is Zandra Dominika and I'm 19 years old. I have your number because of your mother, Phelo Turner! I promise I'm not trying to scam you lol, just reaching out to see how your doing!

I think once I know someone is a female I instantly feel safer. It's... not the best feeling to acknowledge that, but then again it's good to still be aware of your surroundings. This person could still try to hurt me, plus they know my mom's name! That's absolutely fucked. I can't trust them right now. Why would I give them any personal information when they are most likely lying to me right now? Though the name Zandra did sound weirdly familiar. Like I knew it from a distant memory or something. Maybe I had seen it in my mom's memory book? I'd have to go check that out later.

(xxx)xxx-xxxx: I know you're probably taking so much time because you still think I'm a scammer, which is good! It shows that you're careful and smart! I'm glad you're not willing to send birthdates and shit to some rando. I'm not sure how I could prove to you that I'm not a scammer. I also know that I most likely scared you off with how I knew your mom. I could explain that if you'd be willing to listen?

Listen? I mean... I could do that, but no! This could be a ploy to get more information from my phone...or... they could be telling the truth. Damn it! I frown to myself, moving my thumbs to make the number a contact.

Oralee: It seems you know a lot about how I'm feeling and already have some information about me. I think this is all the recognition you need, but my curiosity does always get the best of me. Go ahead, tell me how you know my mother's name and how you got my number.

Zandra the randa: Okay... well I just knew how I would feel if someone randomly messaged me asking all these questions and knowing all these things lol. Anyways, I know your mom because she simply knows my mother. They go way back, like further than you're probably thinking right now. We've actually met before but I think you forgot lmao. We were really close actually, we didn't want to leave each other's side. Your mom is still in contact with mine so obviously I was curious how you were and asked for your number. I do think this is Oralee now so no recognition is needed anymore. I... uh... missed you a lot. It's lonely here.

I have to set my phone down for a second. What? I have a long lost friend? I really didn't see that one coming. I usually wasn't the one for making friends. I guess that gives me some explanation as to why I thought her name was so familiar. I'm going to ask mom to help me find that memory book when she gets home. That brings me back to what Zandra had last said. It's lonely here. What did she mean by that? Did she not live in our state? I wonder where she lives, maybe Montana? I'm going to ask her.

Oralee: So we used to know each other... I'm sorry I don't remember that at all honestly, but when my mom gets home I'm going to try and find some pictures if we have any. Maybe that'll help strike a cord in my brain. I do have a question though, where do you live? You make it sound like we're really far away :(

I straighten myself out on my bed, waiting patiently for a response, but one never seems to come. I wait for a good 10 minutes before deciding to do something other than just waiting. It wasn't healthy to get attached so quickly. I bite my lip. I wonder what she looks like. No, Lee there's no time to be gay now. Mom will be home soon and then you can look in the memory book.

I hope she's hot. You know, there are some days I wish I could just shut my thoughts off, especially the horny ones. She's got to at least be into DND, you know? If she can't enjoy be chaotic while being a mythical creature, I don't want it. DND was a way I could believe in small amounts that fairies are real. I smirk to myself as I think about all the times I tried to seduce something in our campaign.

"Lee? Are you awake? Honey I'm coming up!" I feel my body jolt from the sudden rush of adrenalin. Jesus, I guess my mom is home now. I didn't even hear the door open or a car pull up.

"Yeah I'm awake mom! I'll meet you in the hall." I hoist myself off the bed and shake my head. Shit, I didn't even know what time it was. It's nearly midnight and I have a shift tomorrow at the shop. I'm so fucked. I walk to my door and open it swiftly. I'm met with my mother leaned up against the wall across from it. She smiles sweetly at me, her eyes sparkling with delight.

"I missed you Lee." She holds her arms open for a hug and I instantly accept it.

"You too stinky. I hope you had a good night." I enjoy the smell of my mother, how it calms down my senses. It makes me want to cuddle with her all night watching movies, almost like what she suggested earlier. Shit! I never iced my back! That's going to hurt in the morning!

"Oh I did, it was long." I feel my body tense and I back away from her. My face scrunches up in disgust.

"Mom! God I don't want to hear about your night in that much detail!" I plug my ears like a child and shake my head vigorously.

"Meh, your loss." She shrugs and I can tell she wants to go to sleep. Her eyes are half lidded and she looks very loopy.

"If you're done, I do have a question. Where is that memory book you made when I was little? I got a text tonight from someone named Zandra Dominika. Do you know her?" I question, motioning towards her. She seems to suddenly wake up. Her eyes widen slightly as she processes what I just told her.

"Did you say Zandra finally reached out to you? Well thank fucking god, took her long enough. She's had your number for like 4 years. I thought ya'll would start where you left off, but I can see by your vacant expression that you don't know what I'm talking about." She smiles with a small chuckle. "Well, how about we talk about it tomorrow night okay? You and I can have some finger foods and maybe even some drinks. Talk for a while. I'll explain things to you clearly." She grins and gestures to my room. "Now, what do you say we get some sleep?" She nods and shuffles towards her room.

Well...how am I going to be two places at once? Do I want to go to a party or sit and veg out with my mom. Definitely the latter, but I have to go to the party, I promised Tabs. I'm just going to have to make both work!

+          +          +          +          +

It was Sunday afternoon before I could think of an excuse to miss Tabitha's party. Ugh, why'd she have to be such a good friend. Yeah she's made plenty of mistakes in our friendship, but so have I. I've known her forever, I can't just let her down by telling her I'd come to her party and then not going. I know it shouldn't matter, but I just don't want to deal with her mad at me on top of trying to figure out who the hell Zandra was. My mom seemed to like her enough I guess, but was that just a mom thing? Was I really close to this girl or is my mom trying to get me a girlfriend? I purse my lips as I give that a little more thought. Nah, my mom isn't the type to do that, she's not that desperate to please her gay daughter. She knows relationships, especially those of the gay variety have to take time. They have to happen naturally, not by some silly match making friend. It makes both parties feel very uncomfortable.

"Miss? I'd like to buy those now." I hear someone say. It was a guy about my age who looked pretty nervous. He had that all time popular floofy hair and had sun kissed skin. His eyes were an emerald green, like how you'd see algae in a pond. His face looks like someone took brown paint and scattered freckles all over it. I smile in my customer satisfaction smile.

"Of course! Sorry I was just lost in thought about something going on." I laugh lightly to try and make this situation less awkward.

"Yeah I totally get it! I'm not sure what flowers she'll like, so I'm sort of freaking out about it." He looks up to meet my gaze, his emerald eyes lighting up. "Hey do you think a mysterious type of girl who doesn't really like flowers would like these?" He holds up black nemophilas. I smirk to myself. Did he really have to pick such a literal meaning for a flower? I think this guy is way over his head. He shouldn't be buying flowers for this girl, he should be taking her to watch the stars. She seems like the kind of girl to like that.

"Well, those flowers have a secret meaning, you wanna know what it is?" I raise my brows like I'm about to whisk this guy into a crazy story about how these flowers got their name. He nods his head frantically. "Those are black Nemophilas, they usually are small beautiful flowers, but can bloom in all white, pink, white with some purple, or like what you have there. They're called black Nemophilas but they actually look purple with white around the edges of the petals right? Although it's cooler to think that they bloomed black. They're mostly grown as a houseplant because of their resistance to freezing temperatures." I grin widely. I get so happy talking about flowers. I meet his eyes again and he looks extremely happy.

"Shit. Thank you so much. I'm sure she'll love these." He smiles kindly and for the first time in a while, I see him lift the buds to his nose. He takes a small whiff in and a grin spreads across his face. "It smells like sweat." He laughs.

"I-uh... yeah, they're not known for smelling too nice." I stumble over my words, still shocked that someone actually stopped to smell a flower in my shop. They were always too busy buying the flowers to care about what they smelled like. It seemed like the first time someone had cared enough to take time out of their day to smell the flowers. Instead of picking up the prettiest rose and whisking it away without a second glance my way.

I gulp in, not knowing why him smelling a flower got to me so much. "Uh, yeah if you'll just set them down here I'll get them prepared for you to take." I nod curtly and whisk around to the preparation counter. It has scissors, shears, a spray bottle, and some other gardening things. Get it together Lee.

"Thanks so much for this by the way. Pretty sure she's going to fall in love with me because of the sweaty flowers. My name is Elijah, I think we go to school together." I feel my back tense. Great, he goes to my school.

"Yeah?" I say over my shoulder. "What grade are you in?" I ask. Lee why are you continuing the conversation? You don't even like to talk to your cat most of the time.

"I'm a junior, struggling in Mrs. Groution's English class." I can almost hear the smile in his voice. "You're a senior right?" He prods. Dear lord he has seen me around school.

"Yup!" I reply politely. "I'm just ready to get out of here and graduate you know? I have the case of senioritis bad." What I said was honest. I didn't like my high school. It was filled with fake kids and even more fake adults. We had a "zero tolerance" for bullying, yet some of my friends can tell me stories they've heard that says otherwise. It was just an overall distaste for the whole putting on looks situation. A school wasn't supposed to use kids like that, I absolutely hated it. His voice takes me out of thought and back to the situation at hand. I was having an interaction, I needed to focus on that, no matter how much I wanted to hide from it. There were days like this, the ones where I didn't want to be around people at all, but other days it's better to be around them so I can thrive off of some energy people give off.

"You seem a bit lost in though, I'm sorry I can just get out of your hair." He laughs, but I can tell he's a little hurt by the fact I'm so lost in thought. I feel bad even though I barely know the guy.

"Nah, I'm just a deep thinker you know? I get lost in thought very easily. I'm not the best in social situations face to face." I turn to give him a genuine smile. I see his eyes light up again. Good, he feels better.

"Oh no I totally get how that feels. I hate how our school does this whole," he instantly puts on a fake posh accent, "We have the smartest and happiest kids." He lets out a chuckle afterwards. "Little do they know that half of us are depressed and the other half are too busy peaking in high school to be bothered by their sadness." I turn to look him in the eyes, mine growing wider by the second. We make eye contact and then suddenly burst into laughter. My word, he does get it. Shame on me for assuming Elijah and I would have nothing in common. After a bit I can finally breathe again from laughing so hard. I wipe my eyes still giggling lightly.

"Here are your flowers Elijah, good luck." I smile as he graciously takes the flowers and waves enthusiastically to me as he leaves. The smile stayed on my lips for the rest of my work day. Then it was time for me to get ready for Tabitha's party. Joy to the world.

+          +          +          +          +

I ended up wearing something comfortable over cute. If anyone had issue with it, I'd just tell them to fuck off. Well, not actually, I'd just think it. I was in some black sweats with a stretchy maroon shirt. I slipped my off brand crocs I got from a farmers market with my mom a couple years ago and a cute anklet. I pull my hair up in a pony to keep it mostly out of my face. I had normal blonde hair that was naturally pretty curly, but I had a Great Aunt who would give me perms every once in a while. Noting this, I pull some curly strands to frame my face so it didn't look so round. I put on a dangly bracelet and my chain necklace. I'm overall happy with my look, but I'm sure Tabitha will have something to say about it. I decide to put on some gold rings to match the chain in hopes that they'll suffice for her.

I stuff my phone and some earbuds in my pocket and then grab a few dollars out of my wallet. I could need some cash for food later, not sure. I do a once over of myself in the mirror and pat my pudgy stomach. "Oh yeah Oralee Turner you are looking sexy tonight." I give myself finger guns in the mirror and head out my door, grinning to myself like an idiot. I hop down the stairs and towards the front door. Mom hadn't come home yet from errands so I write her a quick note to let her know I'll be back a little later than midnight, seeing as it was getting close to 6 already. Speaking of the time, where the hell is Tabitha? She said was going to pick me up right? I cram my hand into my pocket to find my phone. I unlock it only to find Tabitha had texted me a couple minutes earlier.

Tabby: Hey, I can't pick you up tonight! :( I have to meet up with someone pretty soon so you're going to have to drive yourself!! Sorry babes!

I groan and turn my phone off. This was a great start to the night, because not only did I not like driving, but I was definitely not okay with my car going to a party. I angrily grab my keys from the bowl in the halltree and rush out to my car. I want to be one of the firsts ones there so I can find a good place to sit and an escape route. I start my small car and am met with my comfort station of old rock songs. Okay, maybe this wouldn't be so bad. I pull out of the driveway and roll my window down. The fresh nigh air whips the tendrils of hair I pulled out around my face, it's slightly annoying, but I like the fresh air. It smells like rain and it was such a cool night. It's about a couple minutes into driving when I realize Tabitha didn't tell me where this party was being held. Damn it why am I still even trying to go to this thing? It's like I felt some kind of pull to go and I hated that Tabitha could just pull on my heart strings like that. I pull over into an abandoned parking lot and pull out my phone.

Buttface: where the fuck is this party again?

The reply is almost instant.

Tabby: Ah, it's at this jock's house. 1987 Elmore North, I think his name is Elijah, come on get here girl!!

My eyes widen and a grin spreads across my lips. You sneaky son of a bitch. Did Elijah buy those flowers for Tabs? Maybe this is why I felt such a pull to go to the party. I can get to know Elijah more and if he's that cool then maybe the people he invited are pretty cool too. I feel like a ton of bricks have been lifted off my shoulders as I set my phone down in one of the cup holders. His house was a short drive from where I was now, it would only take me about 2 minutes to get there and his neighborhood is rather large, meaning big houses, meaning there's bound to be a dog to pet. Count me truly ready to party now.

I make it to his house and hop out of my car. I feel lucky that not a lot of cars are there yet and that I can see Tabitha's. Should I have brought something? No, I did help him pick out those flowers. I subconsciously put my hands in my pockets, walking up to the backyard gate which is open. There are outside lights set up and small campfire flickering in a stone firepit. There's a deck with a grill and below ground pool near the fence line of the property. It's a pretty nice backyard, but I only see a couple people out here and none of them are anyone I know. I hurry up and spot the glass sliding door to the inside. Of course it's a glass sliding door. I clumsily wander over to the door and slide it open. I'm hit with warm air and a yelling voice coming from deeper in the house. I glance back to the group outside which consists of 2 boys and 3 girls all chatting about an English assignment. I definitely don't want to try to join in on their conversation so I step inside and shut the door from behind me.

"I thought we had something Tabby!" I hear a familiar voice yell.

"Well you don't know shit! And don't call me that! I should have never come here! Damn it!" Once I hear my friend's name I'm on my way to find her, when I do find her, I find Elijah with her. Tabitha has the flowers clutched in her hands, breaking the stems. Elijah breaks his angry stare from Tabitha when he spots me. He looks almost shocked to see me, but his demeanor changes when he puts it together that I'm not here to be on his side. "What took you so long Lee? I was waiting for you!" Tabitha stares at me with pleading eyes, her grip on the flowers hardening, I can tell by the way they droop even lower to the ground.

"I-I had to drive myself and I didn't know where I w-was going at first." I look between the two of them. "What's going on?" I shouldn't have come here. I shouldn't have come here. Why did I come here? I take a few steps backwards.

"This fucker thought flowers where his way into my pants." Tabitha hisses and tosses the flowers to the ground. I wince. I get that she was upset, but the flowers didn't do anything. They had a nice life after all, I cut and prepared them. Someone actually stopped to smell them. I got to share facts about them! I never get to do that! "Well fuck that." Before I can think she stomps the flowers into the hardwood floor. Her boot cuts into their stems and when she's done it's a mess of petals and leaves.

"I wasn't trying to get into your pants!" Elijah finally shouts. "I actually just wanted to be a gentleman because so many fucking guys out here are disgusting!" I can tell he's upset about her stepping on the flowers and her words by the way his voice wobbles and his eyes flit between the crumpled petals. I'm upset now too. I can't really tell why I'm so upset but I meet Tabitha's eyes with tears in my own. My brows are drawn into an angry expression as I glance down at the mess by her feet.

"I-they-you- those flowers had no part in this... why'd you do that? You know how I feel about flowers Tabs. They have lives too." I meet her gaze again. I want her to apologize but all she does is roll her eyes.

"They're not alive Lee, don't be such a pansy. For fuck's sake can we focus on my problems here?" She hisses. A chill runs through my body. I can feel my blood boil and freeze almost simultaneously. Elijah stares at her in disbelief.

"Fuck you." I hiss and squeeze my eyes shut. The tears finally break over the barrier and fall down my cheeks. I rush out the way I came, a sick feeling settling in the pit of my stomach.

She knows how I feel about them! She knows how much they meant to my grandad. How much shit he had to go through to keep the shop going. He raised me, teaching me about the different effects flowers could have. Flowers were a language not spoken by many.

"Lee! Lee wait I'm sorry! I was angry! Lee-" I run. I run until I'm outside and shutting the door. Why'd I come here? Why'd I do it? God I was so stupid? Stupid. That's me. No no no no, fuck! I ball my fists and wipe at my face. I realize the group outside is looking my way and I curse under my breath. I turn on my heel and fast walk the fuck out of there. I try to make the tears stop falling, but they keep streaming down my face.

"Fuck, fuck, shit." I curse, then suddenly I knock shoulders with someone who grunts because of the impact. I stop in my tracks, I may be upset but my mother taught me manners. "Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-" I finally look up to see who I bumped into. A tall girl about my age stands in front of me. She has pink hair tied into space buns and heart shaped glasses on. Her earrings are also in the shape of hearts as well as the choker she's wearing. She has high-waisted jeans on with a flowy blouse to match. She was absolutely stunning. She even had a beauty mark under her eye that stood out in the moonlight.

"It's okay," She pauses as she gets a better look at me. "A-are you okay?" Her brows instantly knit in concern. Shit, has she noticed I'm not mentally stable already?

"I-uh... yeah I'm fine." I decide to answer. "I... I'm actually going." I sigh. She purses her lips and then frowns.

"That's too bad, you seemed cool. I was hoping to talk some more." She grins. I nod in agreement.

"I am pretty cool, but I should really get going." I jab my thumb towards where my car is.

"Lee?" I whisk around to see Tabitha at the gate.

"Shit." I hiss. "See ya, I gotta go!" I yell and practically Olympic sprint to my car. I unlock my car as fast as I can and hop in. I turn the key and start to back out when I see Tabitha waving wildly in front of me. Yeah, I'm never going to another one of her 'fun' parties. I shake my head and wipe at my face. Pansy? I tense as I speed towards home. Never again.

I get home around 8:45pm and to my surprise my mom is home. I pull in behind her car and put mine in park. I don't think this night can get any worse. I get out of my car, lock it, spin my keys around my fingers a couple times, and then head towards my front door. Before I can open it, it's opened for me. "Evening sweetie, what brings you home so early?" My mother stands in the doorway with a frown on her face. I sigh and lightly push past her into the house.

"Oh you know, just too cool for the party life." I give her a fake smile and she clicks her tongue.

"That bad?" She questions. I nod and flop down on the couch. It's then that I notice the memory book on the coffee table. Her eyes light up. "Oh yes! Miss Zandra, you wanted to see a picture of her right? Now, since you're home so early we're going to have lots of time to look at pictures and discuss, but I need you to have an open mind." She gives me a stern look. I roll my eyes.

"Mom, I'm a gay teen, I have to keep an open mind at all times." I fire back. She pauses for a moment then nods her head in agreement. She flops down next to me grabbing one of the books. I snuggle up next to her, loving her comforting scent.

"Ah here's a good one, it's of you guys when you were little." She flips the book for me to see the picture. It's little me with that appears to be strap on fairy wings on my back, same for who I'm assuming is Zandra.

"That's her?" I point to the other little girl. She nods and coos about how cute we look. Zandra has the same sparkly dress up wings on. I chuckle at how cheap they look. Mom flips a couple pages and gasps.

"Oh and here's a more recent picture of her!" She taps the page excitedly. My eyes widen as I scan the photo in front of me. Pink hair tied back in regal braids, a white dress with gold accents trailing up the bodice, her slender arms folded in front of her, and those same sparkling wings on her back, only about four times the size. I gasp as my eyes follow what seems to be a swirling pattern in them.

"I-is she into fantasy shoots or something?" I choke over my words. She was beautiful. It takes me a moment to finally notice the glimmering gold crown around her head. It has a hanging purple jewel dangling in the middle of her forehead. My eyes trail down her face and land on a beauty mark under her eye. If my eyes could widen any more I think they did at that moment.

"Um, well not exactly sweetie, there's been something I've needed to tell you for a while now."

Of course.

[uselessidiotsquad]

Profession magic thoughts and plant rambles under the cut!

Necromancers

At first I had sort of conflicting thoughts on this but I do think they can work together now!

I’d mentioned in a previous installment of plant rambles that I thought Sylvari necromancer who work with flesh minions/summoning basically piles of gore to do their bidding would probably be robust since it’s free fertilizer.

But the actual energy of death magic I think tends to make individuals have shorter lives - just as a whole. So healthy and fairly well, but overall shorter lifespans.

Rangers/ Druids

I think they would have longer than average lifespans, even though we don’t really know what the ‘average’ is for Sylvari yet. I also think they’d grow more and the longer they used druidic magic, would start to have features like oakhearts.

Guardian

For this one, I think it would also probably lengthen the lifespan but would make them lose some sense of identity along the way. Sort of ‘burnt out’ from Light magic, if you will.

Maybe Sylvari would have less of their own glow and more of the typical white-blue color of Guardians - maybe even have it glowing all the time.

Elementalist

Depends heavily on which element they feel most at home with. Maybe Air attuned ‘vari would get more features like the wind dispersed plants (fluffy bits like dandelions!)

Water attuned might be something like Rose of Jericho if they aren’t actually using water magic right then (they get browned and shriveled looking but then perk back up when using it)

Earth attuned might find they aren’t as mobile and don’t move as fast, but have much more endurance. For physical features, perhaps thicker bark or even growing in size!

Fire attuned gave me the most trouble, since the HC I am running with is that Sylvari sap is highly flammable like resin. Then I started thinking about plants like the Eucalyptus which actively spreads flammable oils to encourage fire, yet themselves are resistant to it. So perhaps they grow to be able to produce some type of other agent that is flammable while not setting themselves on fire.

Revenant

This one is a little bit gloomy but I think the more time that they work with the Mists, the less present they are in the real world. Mists magic and even working with Ventari sort of occupies more of their time until eventually they have a hard time telling one from the other.

Mesmer

Ooo I love the idea that they grow to be more like mimic-plants. Plants that try to resemble other things, like the orchid post that was so popular a while back. Though this def leads to some identity issues. Probably based on their local too, so a desert ‘vari mesmer might resemble a living rock plant, a tropical one might be something like an orchid, and so on.

(Warrior, Thief, and Engineer are all physical based for the most part)

[magnusgoetia]

Transcript of a Sinner’s Conversation: A Meeting with Caecus

--Begin (In Medias Res)--

Sinner: You kiddin'? Dyin' was the best thing that's ever happened to me.

Caecus: There’s nothing you left behind? No family to miss?

Sinner: My family? Fuck 'em, I'd ‘ave hired 'elp to kill 'em already if it meant they'd be dead-dead, and I wouldn't have to spend time wiv 'em down 'ere. It wouldn't be right for me to force this on my friends either, but they'll be 'ere in due time anyway. I can wait.

Caecus: So, you’re expecting your friends to join you here as well. The wait must be awfully lonely.

Sinner: Ah, not really. I’ve made friends while I’m ‘ere. The shit I can do ‘ere is like, fucking magic and with it I can make up for what I lack in a lot of different ways. Just wish I could remember how I ‘ad died.

Caecus: Maybe it’s better not to remember… Not all of us intended to be here, after all.

Sinner: No. No, perhaps it’s best not to remember. I quickly found out that it's not just evil folks that end up here, lots of good folks, plenty of weird ones too. I'm sensing you’re of the “gooder” ones, you radiate...well, it’s 'ard to describe, but I don't sense any hostility from you at the very least, even though you were born ‘ere.

Caecus: How amiable of you. But remember, a birth is just a new beginning of sorts. You couldn’t have been alone since you were… delivered to us.

Sinner: Ah, you’re a poetic type aren’t ya? Anyway, I’ve not made many friends but I do ‘ave a particular fondness for this one clown...me an' 'im seem to 'ave this weird connection wiv each other. Actually, he's more of a jester type, though rather embarrassingly his name escapes me...

Caecus: Are you, by chance, referring to an imp named Blocko?

Sinner: Yeah, don’t surprise me you know ‘im. He seems like the type to ‘ave a particular reputation.

Caecus: That he does, and yet a divine will connects us. I’m being led to believe your intriguing appearance has an even more… intriguing history.

Sinner: Riiiight...Well, you know what they say about skeletons and closets. Though I suppose I ‘ave nothing to hide ‘ere...Well, to put it simply, I was a broken kid. I never got help, and I did... unspeakable things to anyone who ‘ad wronged me—or simply didn't like.

Caecus: Even the purest of souls can be corrupted by another’s sins.

Sinner: Yeah...Well, it's not like I'll stop doin’ what I did while I was alive, with all that murder and hedonism. Though death has a way of humbling some people...In any case, the murders mostly stopped as I grew older. I seemed to have preferred to just traumatise people instead, ruin lives of the people I saw as bad or evil.

Caecus: Then you found a different punishment for those you had judged.

Sinner: I suppose so. A lot of it involved me spying on groups of people. I'd worm my way into the seedy societies that thought they were safe in their little circles and collect dirt on them. Really sick shit too by the way but don’t worry, the hypocrisy wasn’t lost on me either.

Caecus: Oh? You judged yourself a hypocrite yet continued along a path of self-appointed righteousness... Why?

Sinner: I don’t know, maybe a sense of catharsis? A lot of these were people who I wouldn’t have to feel guilty about killing or whatever. Sometimes it was more personal too, there were—still are people I am attached to up there that got hurt, and I took my revenge on them in their place.

Caecus: Ahh, how noble. Fighting for your friends.

Sinner: Yeah, there was this one particular bastard. Actually, there were a few…but…eh, nevermind…this one particular guy who was essentially lying to one of these “friends” and caused them a psychotic breakdown. I didn’t take action right away, but I did end up killing ‘im. Didn’t even bother hiding the fact it was a murder.

Caecus: What made you wait?

Sinner: Money, mostly. It makes the world up there spin, and you need a lot of it to get anything done, right? Well, I ‘ad to wait until I ‘ad enough money to fly to the states on top of all that shit involved in immigratin’. When I settled in, that’s when I made my move on a buncha grudges. This guy was just the first. Moving to the states made my life a lot easier in some ways. Was a lot easier to sleep when I took care of the grudges too.

Caecus: Oh, wow. You must have had remarkable resolve to keep a “grudge” that long… Tell me, did all of them truly deserve it?

Sinner: No, most didn’t, but I am…was, an angry person. I found I was very much capable of venting my anger, to put it mildly, and I was much too young when I had...shall we say...discovered it.

Caecus: Young minds are impressionable.

Sinner: Right, and the fact that I was generally good at getting away with it made me feel just that little bit better about it.

Caecus: So, you exploited that validation to continue justifying your actions. Most sinners in your position never reach awareness...

Sinner: Yeah? I’ll take that as a compliment, but I was totally emotionally disconnected when committing my crimes. Afterwards I pretty much always dealt with conflict. Cognitive dissonance is a bitch. Though I had largely stopped my ways. I’m ‘aving way too much fun down ‘ere, and even though I won’t drag ‘em down here with me, I’d love to have my friends join me eventually.

Caecus: Would they be pleased being here, embrace this existence like you have?

Sinner: I dunno, some of them have a hard enough time as it is with one existence, I doubt they’ll be too happy to find out there’s another waitin’ for ‘em. The others I’d imagine would be quite surprised all the same, being atheists and such, but I reckon they’d come to like it.

Caecus: An existence you cannot escape is itself a prison. Albeit, choosing to enjoy it in spite of that perspective is a marvelous thing. If you could imagine them in your presence, what would you do?

Sinner: Again, I dunno. It’s hard to tell when they’re not here yet but I am somewhat interested in what’ll end up happening should they get here. I dunno if I’ll be able to tell if it’s them even.

Caecus: And how do you dare to enjoy existence now?

Sinner: Well, I’ve been doing everything I’ve ever wanted to do but could never do in life amongst other things. It’s kinda embarrassing, but I played a bunch of video games, so I miss those quite a bit. I’ve found plenty of ways to fill that void though. Some of your movies are pretty sick down ‘ere, and importing goods from the other rings to ‘ere means I don’t miss out…mostly, on their fun too. I just wish I could explore the other rings; I don’t get why us sinners can’t.

Caecus: Decretum is often difficult to understand. However, it would seem a blessing that you’ve been placed with the multifarious company of the pride ring.

Sinner: True enough, whatever that means. There’s a lot of strip clubs, greedy businesses and shit, stuff you think you’d only find in the other rings. Though I think I probably would’ve ended up in wrath if we landed in the rings based on our sins.

Caecus: Most catechisms view wrath as an excessive anger. You strike me as having more control than the average sinner.

Sinner: A lot of people on the surface woulda said the same too, I was and I suppose still am really good at keeping it in check, well, good enough to not make it obvious anyway. Though it’s been a lot tougher down here.

Caecus: This is a realm of collective temptation, after all.

Sinner: My only judge here is myself and perhaps my peers if I let them. I still kill down here, but it’s been in self-defence. I don’t think I’ve killed anyone out of anger yet but let’s just say I’d feel sorry for the poor sod who happened to piss me off on a bad day.

Caecus: You’ve always been your own judge. I suspect the lack of good comparisons for your behavior here has coaxed you further.

Sinner: Actually, I could tell you about the first person I “killed” down here. It was soon after I woke up. I suppose this guy thought it’d be easy—fresh sinner, just in time to be another tally mark on some statistic.

Caecus: A second death, the lake of fire…

Sinner: Uh...yeah, I reacted on instinct and it musta been a sort of “kiss of death” type shit. I only touched the dude with my hand, and he just kinda…shrivelled up and died. You know…like when a cartoon character eats a lemo—ah sorry, you can’t watch TV.

Caecus: Ah, yes… a shrivelling death is nevertheless descriptive.

Sinner: Anyway, I have a bunch of other powers too but that one I’m most afraid of you know? I can drop the ambient temperature of an area so shit gets cold, have some form of telekinesis and a buncha other stuff, like I have some kinda control over this weird glowy energy, it’s how I have my eyes, which are purely for show, I don’t need them since I can see perfectly fine without ‘em...not that you’d know I even have ‘em.

Caecus: I’m aware you observe our world, in a traditional sense. My observations are just a bit more… unorthodox. And I feel as if your fear is not from a lack of understanding.

Sinner: Well I seem to have it under control, but I’m afraid in a moment of weakness I might react without thinking, you know? I’ve not had it happen yet, but it would be so easy when flippin’ out that I just give ‘em the ol’ touch of death.

Caecus: Even a king’s heart is just a stream of water to the hand of… fate.

Sinner: Gonna be honest, I haven’t the foggiest of what you just said. Though if I’m being honest myself, I couldn’t care less if it was someone I didn’t know anyway. Only really care about my friends and such. You seem pretty neat yourself.

Caecus: The impression is mutual. It’s not often that I’m seen as anything other than senseless and intimidating. I don’t find it unwarranted, granted; my appearance is as disconcerting as my psyche.

Sinner: How do you even know what you look like? It’s not like you can just look into a mirror.

Caecus: I was presented with a vision soon before I arrived, my last blessing I suppose… Regardless, my rebirth is a tale for another time. I’ve relished in your company long enough, and I must answer my calling. I’m sure our paths will converge again.

Sinner: Hey, I hope so too...uh....

Caecus: Please, call me Caecus.

Sinner: Well, it’s only polite to give you my name too. I go by many names here, but I am quite fond of “Mr. Death” as silly as it sounds.

Caecus: Silly, yes, but very becoming of you. A pleasure, Mr. Death.

Mr. Death:Well, don’t let me keep you. I’d like to see you again sometime, Caecus. I’ll take my leave.

Caecus: All in due time.

--End--

[whoknowsbud]

Stand Mutation AU

Warning, this is FILLED with body horror! And somewhat loose but present connections to the recent epidemic! Mainly in part 4...

These are mostly just lists of the designs, and this post will only contain parts 3 & 5. There’s a lot more bulk to what was written to part 4, and there’s a lot more angst written, so that’s going to be a separate post.

(Which is now here!)

The idea here is essentially taking the ‘stand sickness’ Holy and Josuke had and twisting it into overdrive. Rather than gaining stands, the infected mutate (often horrifically, but there are some who look almost unaffected) based on their in-canon stands. The uninfected don’t see the full image; the shapes and colors come through, but not completely. The common headlight-style eyes are a big giveaway (until they’re not).

The mutations here will also commonly hinder most functions, especially rational thought. It’s most often temporary as the infected adjusts to the changes of their body. This can take a number of forms, but what happened to the Nijimura brothers is the worst it gets. The term for this for now is going to be ‘fried’.

The infection is only transferred by the arrow, and genetic relation.

Part 3

Holy has flowers growing on her body. Has a way better handle on it than Jotaro; fully present and coherent, the flowers just need to sap a little of her energy to grow big and bright. So, yeah, she's completely fine.

Jotaro ends up this ethereal star man with so much luscious hair, but also partly fried at the start; ends up being essentially like a big dog for a while (acts on base instinct and can’t articulate).

Joseph’s arms become vines. That’s it, that’s all. Vines for arms.

Avdol is pretty much just fused with Magician’s Red. I say ‘just’, but he’s pretty damn rad.

Kakyoin is basically a bunch of wires, wrapped to make a more human shape. Rather than shooting solid energy bursts, he can send energy through the wires.

Polnareff, like Avdol, is also just fused with his Silver Chariot. The armor and sword are still removable.

Iggy is made of sand. Can shapeshift, often takes the form of a wolf, because he can and he wants to.

Hol Horse has a gun for a hand. Yes, that's all.

Gray Fly... tiny man. Beetle sized old man with beetle wings and dagger tongue. Nasty nasty.

Imposter Captain Tenille is a fish-man, simple as that. Basically take Dark Blue Moon and put it in the mans clothes. This makes it obvious that he’s the enemy the moment he comes out, but Anne is still under some suspicion at first.

Forever is just Strength. Green ship with orangutang face.

Devo basically is Ebony Devil. Imagine making a (somewhat crappy) almost life size doll of Devo, and there you go. Rather than needing a grudge to act, he forms his grudge as he fights, making him stronger.

Rubber Soul is just Yellow Temperance; when he went through stand puberty he just pretty much melted.

J. Geil is just Hanged Man; only seen through reflections. Tied a knife to his hand.

Nena is almost the same as canon; she assimilates a beautiful woman to host her real body (which has no skin covering, so here she needs a host, the looks are just preference), and still leaves parasites on victims through her blood.

ZZ's stand mutation is actually his arm. His arm is the car.

Enya… ghost? Still uses fog for the illusions, still does puppet stuff? But then Jotaro would still have to suck her down so NO, THANKS

Steely Dan, the crab man. Can duplicate himself but at NOWHERE near the same rate. Not as effective either. He's about the size of your average 14 year old.

Arabia Fats is just. On fire. Fire man. Human torch. But more fire. Just fire.

Mannish boy appears with a flat, jester-like face, so the group knows to refuse.

Cameo... genie?

Midler is basically herself with High Priestess's power to become any mineral. Still can shapeshift, but its limited.

N’Doul… could be a water man. Sends his hand out so he can stay safely out of most people’s range.

Anubis... is just the same Anubis as canon. It's a sword, what were you expecting?

Mariah is the magnetizer. It happens through contact, and feels like a small static shock. It does not work on normal people, although they do feel the shock.

Alessi has just become a shadow, his own silhouette, that de-ages those it touches like in canon, with the same eyes and manifesting ability, too. Cannot talk.

The D’arby brothers are a terrible amalgamation of the souls they’ve taken.

Pet Shop is... just its stand I think.

Vanilla Ice is another stand/user mix. As uncomfortable as the v o r e is, it seems like the only sensible thing...

Dio is similar to Jotaro. But green & yellow, with more disturbing growths (those... bullet chain suspenders looking things, and the apparent oxygen tanks on the back). He's a bit distorted, rippling in time with the seconds.

Part 5

Haruno becomes a plant creature (Oh you want limbs? Limbs to hold things? Too bad, you get tendrils!), changes his name to Giorno. The human body is still inside, controlling everything. When he’s truly happy, he blooms.

Bruno's body is just zippers. They can all be opened or closed (although if they're all opened he's kind of a mess, and its an awful noise), and what's under them is just a void. He seems to have glowing orbs as eyes, revealed by a single open zipper over where his eyes would be. To resemble a more human form, he has zippers on his head to look like hair. There are a few zippers that hang off his arms and legs almost like fins, and he will whip you with them.

Abbachio is a glitchy creature that looks like someone constantly flipping channels, with a sort of goo coating his body in almost the exact way it does Moody Blues.

Narancia is a ‘cyborg’, fighting logic output to stay ‘human’

Mista basically goes through mitosis, becoming 7 of himself; but it takes time for them to truly separate.

Fugo appears to be normal, but he has this ‘oxygen’ tank & connected mask. The Purple Haze virus is more of a gas here, produced in his lungs, so he has to have a way to contain it when he's around others. Once he starts getting emotional, he sort of melts into a zombie-like form; starts looking like a typical victim of Purple Haze.

(Giorno's able to take in an absurd amount of toxins and pollution and spit out a shit ton of oxygen, so there's much less concern.)

WE RETAIN THE DINOSAUR SPICE GIRL HERE, TRISH IS A STRETCHY & SQUISHY LIZARDWOMAN.

Mr President is a cube, still with the room. He's like a box. A box turtle, you might say.

Polpo is still in prison. His shadow does pretty much everything Black Sabbath does. Permanent poggers face.

Zucchero is a slug. Has spikes on his body that perform Soft Machine’s ability, and they’re barbed to grab the deflated forms.

Sale... maybe he's already dead. Infection stopped his own heart or something. Or hes like.. a landmark. Like Angelo in canon; fully immobile, but sort of immortal. /till you destroy the body I guess...

Formaggio’s size is constantly fluctuating, not always proportionately consistent.

Illuso... doesn't exist outside of mirrors. He can still communicate to those on the other side, and pull them in, but can't leave, himself. He works similarly to Yoshihiro Kira; ig seal the mirror, you seal him.

Prosciutto has so many eyes. Just all over, so so many. Somewhat shriveled up from the waist down.

Pesci has a fishing pole arm I guess...

Melone is some sort of... digital-ish cyborg thing. The Babyface kids are the same though

Ghiaccio is essentially fused with his suit, with the weak spot in the back of his neck frozen over. It’s actually like the mane of a lion, but ice; he can’t turn his head at all, speaking is near impossible, and eating is a struggle as well. The white album fight reveals a lot:

Due to literally being plants, Giorno has to revert back to Haruno or risk serious danger. This is the first time he’s come out; they knew he existed (he was mentioned in passing) but they weren't sure if he was alive or dead. When he can take his plants form again, it’s... kind of horrifying. Roots and vines coming out of his body, wrapping around him...

Risotto is basically a living Metallica colony. Take risotto, make every 5x5 pixels a metallica bean, there you go that’s him.

Squalo... Sharkboy

Tiziano looks fine, but his mouth is all wrong. Tongues like a starfish.

Secco... mud? Mudman?

Cioccolata looks like a zombie, moldy and decomposed an shit.

Diavolo and Doppio are... basically, literally, just King Crimson and Epitaph. They can apparently switch places? Maybe

[metawish]

Family x Hunter: My mini analysis about family relationships in HxH

I am a HUGE sucker for found family troupes and family-oriented stories. There just aren't enough stories to explore the nature of those relationships and how influencial they can be to our development as people. For those of us who's primary relationships are our families, we're left out of the dialouge.

So imagine my surprise when Hunter x Hunter ended up being the anime I can't stop thinking about precisely because of the MULTIPLE family relationships and psudorelationships that happen throughout the plot. Imagine my double surprise when it turns out those family relationships are prioritized and emphasized in the anime over others like the all too popular friendship.

Written for the Carnival of Aro’s Jan 2021 Theme: Stories

Take the premise as a starting point. Gon decides to become a hunter, not because it's cool or because he wants to find some rare cool thing he's never seen before. No, instead, he wants to become a hunter to get closer to his absent father. The ENTIRE show only happens because Gon is driven by a desire to connect with and forge a relationship with his father. I think I can safely say that the family aspect of Hunter x Hunter is embeded into it's core.

Then take a look at the reasons the other main four choose to become hunters. Kurapika is hoping to avenge the massacur of his family clan, a clan that does not interact with the outside world. His entire character arc and development is based on this goal of seeking revenge.

Killua is at the Hunter exam because he heard it was easy. But then we learn, he left home because he wants to REJECT his family obligation to take up the family business.

"Okay, fair," I hear you all say, "but what about Leorio? He just wants money."

Let me help you connect the dots here. First, he claims he wants to become a hunter because of the money. Then we learn he wants to use that money to become a doctor and then provide free medical treatment for those who cannot afford it. THEN we learn that this motivation STEMS from a childhood incident where a best friend of his ended up dying from a treatable illness because he couldn't afford the medical treatment neccessary. Leorio decided then that he did not want anyone else to experience that, tried to go at it the normal way, and realized that it would be nearly impossible for him to afford it. Any average person might end up giving up on this dream, but Leorio was so dedicated to his goal that he ended up training to become a hunter, a physically and mentally strenuous task. JUST so he can get access to more money.

If anything, Leorio's the one who's most motivated by platonic relationships! While Kurapika,Gon, and Killua's motivations are based on obligations to family, Leorio's motivation is only suggested. It isn't like this friend is still alive and Leorio is obligated to save him. No one but Leorio is beholden to the completion of his mission. The strength in that bond has to be strong for him to go to the lengths he did.

AND THIS IS ONLY THE VERY BEGINNING!

Gon's arc goes from becoming a hunter to finding his dad. Kurapika disappears from the story precisely because he is off getting revenge. Killua's development as a character entirely rests in the way he navigates between his family, with entire plots surrounding the Zoldyks. Leorio reenters the narrative JUST to show how deeply he cares for Gon and Killua, and serves as a nice foil to Ging, Gon's father.

I physically cried during Killua's final arc, when he apologized to his youngest sister, asking for her forgiveness after being a "bad big brother." Killua went from essentially running away from home rejecting his family, to asking for forgiveness from a cherished family member. And the nuance inbetween! Freeing himself from his oldest brother's mind control. Finding common ground with his father that, at least in the anime, never gets used against him. Rejecting the family business without rejecting the family. While it still feels incomplete, the joy at seeing him reconnect with a family member and promise to always be together forever made the little shrivelled starved heart of mine swell satisfied.

Killua is a perfect example of the story focusing on his family relationships over his friendships, or at the very least, implying that those family relationships are more important than those with his friend. Does Killua leverage the fact that he made a pact with his dad to never abandon a friend? Yeah. But the fact is that he still went to his family for help.

In the last episode, he tells Gon, his first and only friend, that they have to part ways since he has to protect his little sister. He even says that she comes first before Gon. After struggling to understand if Gon is as committed to him as Killua was to him, he finds closure in his little sister's dedication and wholesome affection. (When he asks Alluka if he was the only one in the whole world that loved her, would that be enough, her response was that she couldn't stop smiling. Because the answer was yes. And perhaps, it was also a question for Killua. Is Alluka's love for him enough?)

And Leorio. LEORIO. As I said, he disappears from the narrative, largely because his mission and Gon's are not the same. But when Gon is out of commission, Leorio comes back into play. The PLOT is affected by this decision and MOVES because if this. Leorio was simply trying to find a way to help his friend, and decides to publically ask his father where he is during such a critical time. Leorio's emotions at Ging's lack thereof ends up putting him in the spotlight, a spotlight he uses every time to seek answers for Gon and to reaffirm his commitment to saving Gon. As much as I HATED the slowmotion, the reunion between Leorio and Gon after Gon's been healed was felt deep in my SOUL. Contrast that QUITE LITERALLY with Ging's reaction and we have the potential for some major character development and storytelling about what a family relationship really is about.

Do we have to earn those familiar relationships? Are we expected to commit to people who are not committed to us simply because they are blood? Can we reject them? Is Killua's reject of his oldest brother over their younger sister a conflict that cannot be solved? Can we form them with strangers? Who is more of a stranger to Gon; his absent dad or the guy he met on a ship headed to an exam? Are we obligated to our family duties like Killua and the family business or Kurapika and his life destroying hunt to avenge his dead family?

Kurapika's story felt a little flat, which is a shame because there is so much potential to explore! The struggle to avenge his clan stems not from his clan, but from his own trauma and pain. His family was ripped right under him, leaving him no one to rely on. Instead of form new relationships, he rots along with his family. In a sense, his disappearance from the narrative represents his character regression, fading from existance like his family.

From a family taken away, to a father who was never there in the first place. Gon's story feels incomplete. Feels a bit like Gon's growth as a character is secondary to the advancement of the plot. Feels like sweeping major issues under the metaphorical rug and calling it a fun show. This man never once visited his son. When leaving a recording for his son, he flat out told Gon he did not want to see him at all. During his time in the hospital, never once did he visit. Sure, we see him remain confident that Gon is alright, but is this confidence misplaced? Is this even true confidence in a person he's never met before? I feel like I am missing a giant piece of the puzzle explaining why Gon, a 12 year old boy who had no male figure in his life, easily accepts Ging.

Let's not forget how Gon didn't even WANT to learn more about his birth mother, a mystery that we will never solve. Just another example of trying to answer what family means. Mito is an aunt, but to Gon, Mito is his mother. (Yet Ging can still be his father? Why not Leorio? A far more deserving man of any affection whatsoever.)

How the story should go. After meeting up with Ging, he continues to go on an adventure with him. As they travel through the far more dangerous continent, Gon faces death multiple times. All this while Ging continues without regard for his safety. Gon reflects, thinking back to his friend Killua, who would attack Gon if it was to protect him. Who called him the sun. Back to Leorio, who hugged Gon like he mattered. Who said he was sorry for not being there for him. As they continue on, he reflects on who really matters. A call for help from his friends. Does he answer the call or remain by his father's side?

What makes a familiar relationship? Blood? Obligation? Depth of affection? Trust? Who makes or breaks those ties? How much do we grow from those relationships?

Hunter x Hunter exceeds my expectations, but also fails to live up to the story it sets itself up to be. I never thought I'd see such an incredible character development that centers on family. I hoped for something on the Ging & Gon front, perhaps as a means of exploring my own thoughts on the matter. Sorely disappointed. I think about this anime often because there is still much left to the imagination. A story unfinished. Perhaps that's what makes it a good story; especially one that decides to kick the standard and focus on a relationship that all of us have dealt with, but many of us overlook.

Is this show good? Debatable. What isn't debatable is how important family is to the plot and character development of the show. Maybe, in an alternative world somewhere, there is a satisfying ending where Gon acknowledges his own family trauma. He realizes how important his friends are, maybe seeing them more as his own family. Kurapika's revenge slowly fizzles out, instead replaced by the need to protect what's still alive. Killua resolves his family issues while remaining true to himself and Leorio adopts Gon.

Maybe the real family is the one we make along the way.

[iwriteshitaboutshit]

The Funeral Pyre

We all got to let go of the people we love one day. Whether that happens today or tomorrow is for no one to decide. How it happens, how people will react, who will come, who will know: Nobody decides that. However, you can decide how you react. Grief is entirely personal. It helps make sense of who we lost and what they were to us as we were to them. In the end, with hope, we may be able to say “and then, we’ll be okay” and smile because we truly believe it.

The Cathedral towered over the crowd of little black ants with black umbrellas and black trench coats. They surrounded an open casket on top of a worn-out grey marble slab, a few meters away was its destination: a deep dug open grave. The greyness of all nearby structures jarringly juxtaposed with the bright blue of the cloudless sky, like the greens and red colors from Van Gogh’s “Night Café”, somehow completely destroying color theory.

Amongst the brooding figures, silhouettes shrouded in anonymity near the casket, were men and women being held by their husbands and wives while they cried their silent goodbyes, huddling together and vibrating irregularly. About 6 meters away, black (of course) plastic chairs were situated in rows, like a platoon of soldier paying respects to their long lost brethren. Two of the seat were taken, one by a petite Caucasian blonde girl, wearing a full grey suit; another by a Native American mid-thirties man wearing a black suit jacket over shirt-with no tie-brandishing a silver wristwatch. They sat a seat apart from each other, in silence, implying they were at all affected by the death of a stranger.

The man sat slouched over, elbows on his chinos-worn knees and his hands supporting the weight of his head in contemplation, looking at the grass below. The girl was leaning back with her hands on the corners of her seat, setting a penetrating gaze through the clear vibrant summer sky. The man began to speak.

“Is this your first time?”

A moment of prophesied silence passed,

“No.” The girl said, with no change of expression.

A few solid pieces of time melted, probably from an over brandishing of a certain silver wristwatch.

“Say girl. Do you see that boy over there?” He nodded at a French-looking individual in all sense of the phrase ‘French-looking’. He was gazing into the abyss somewhere above the coffin, somewhere yonder. His eyes were dark caverns, clouded in impenetrable darkness. “You think he’ll be able to sleep sound tonight?”

“Probably.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“But he won’t be able to sleep, periodically, for the next 6 months to 2 years, randomly.”

The man did not speak. He finished wiping his wrist watch and put the pink napkin he used back into his suit pocket. He leaned back, resting his arms on the heads of the chair’s adjacent comrades, and smiled, crossing his legs. “Somethings you only really understand stuff alone, huh?”

No reply.

“He will learn too but a different lesson from us” The man checked his wristwatch. “A few minutes from now”. The man sighed and looked straight up into the sky, joining the girl. “A way to deal with the fact that the universe will take everything back that you took from it and that this will happen to everyone.”

The girl, still expressionless, expressed multiple thought processes.

“To be honest, I-” she said, choosing her words. “Can’t relate, man.”

The man turned his head towards her, eyes widening then shrinking almost immediately like a camera trying to focus on a specific point in its field of vision. “Hmmmm…” The man spoke softly, to himself. “maybe I was wrong.” The man resumed his study of the sky, as wet clouds starts to appear from thin air.

“Say, girl.” the man continued. “It may be a bit rude to ask as the gentleman in the coffin is, well, in the coffin but what do you think is gonna happen to him now.”

Before the girl could say anything, the sky, as if suddenly remembering that a funeral is taking place after reading the mood of the atmosphere, began to cloud over heavily with grey like a knight’s armor after being worn for centuries. The girl relaxed her arms and looked towards the well gathering of little black ants scatter slightly at the prospect of rain, like actuals ants when you blow down on them. Four well- dressed gentlemen were now attempting to haul the coffin onto their shoulder.

“I” the girl replied. “was born across the street from here.” The girl paused, editing what she was about to say. “as such, I was raised in a richer-than-average environment.”

The girl, then, glanced at the man to see if he understood what she meant. She sighed. “Most of my relatives I knew when I was about 6 were 80 and over: Now half of them are dead. As the event named ‘funeral for who-and-who’ started piling up on our family calendar, I eventually gave up mourning or grieving. I found no need for that; they were, to me, a waste of time.”

A little to the left front of the platoon of chairs the four gentlemen slowly lowered the coffin into a dug pit. The grieving audience followed.

The man smiled sickly and whispered something to himself as he looked at the strange little girl, who was a close acquaintance of death. Trauma can sometimes shape a person so frigidly, he thought to himself, before wondering when she will actually answer his question.

“I think he’s dead, sir” The girl looked him in the eye. “That’s what I think.”

“Anywhere he could go?”

“Have you looked at a body before? When people die, they don’t tend to go anywhere. I mean, they can’t even move their eyelids.”

“No No, but I mean, like, his soul, ya know? Does it go to heaven? or hell? or return to the soil? Does he just reincarnate as a porcupine in the middle of Africa? Any predictions?”

The girl frowned. Her faces shriveled in confusion, like she just bit down on a banana and lemon juice came out. “What’s” she asked, slowly. “after life?”

The man said, in disbelief. “It’s a belief that people ha-”

“no no no no no.” The girl monotonously said and then repeated, but even more slowly. “What’s. After. Life?”

“Well-”

“Death. Of course, but I think it’s a bloody disgrace that we actual think we have any clue what happens after life.”

“What do you mean?”

“Admit it. Nobody knows. All we can really say is after life, we die.”

The man looked returned to his position before he spoke to the girl. It seemed to be his concentration pose. “You’re … Right.” the man replied. “We … Do die.”

The girl leaned back and looked dead set in front of her and crossed her legs. The two strangers seemed to communicate something but it was no longer auditory.

The grieving audience was now scattered a few yards away from the pit. Their dark outfits seeping into the descending twilight. They all longingly looked at the general direction of the coffin. They were not unlike a lover left at bay, looking longingly into the direction they’re loved ones went to sea at, hoping for the best but preparing for the worst, and promptly losing all hope after the ships returned with less crew than they had started with.

Suddenly, like something crashing open, a pillar of flames emerged, rising abrasively and then relaxing, drooping like a common nestle deprived of sunlight. The sound of fire tempestuously mixed in with the sudden naissance of panic in the crowd was heard but only abstractly, like the sound of a music video when you take the music away, by the three individuals who remained seated, taking slight notice to the events unfolding. It was a blonde girl, a Native-American man and a French boy.

The funeral pyre lays aside, enveloping the sky in ashen-gray clouds. Even after all that build up, the skies did not rain. The skies did not change, only us.

[archived-gtronpa-account]

hmmm while Im getting around to the reqs and asks here have an old oneshot I've had taking mold in my drafts for a couple months or so n pls enjoy

Fic of @sizeshiftingrobot 's au

Shifter!Leon

Word count: 1400

Summary: In the middle of a near panick attack, Leon's emotional shifting kicks in and causes him a world of trouble.

____

Fifteen highschool boys and girls stuck together in a killing game. Each having a motive to try to get out no matter the cost; a gruesome video to plant a seed of corruption in their frightened minds.

Leon paced around the dark hallways of the school. He'd seen his own video, bodies of his old team, mangled and battered to a certain death, then cut to show his little cousin, Kanon, alive but face bloody and swollen. A clear threat to get out pronto before things escalated. Hearing the gasps around the video room had confirmed that his video wasn't the only horrifying one, and far from the worst.

Sayaka had nearly fainted, Mondo had looked about ready to beat someone to death, Sakura looked positively strong too, and there was the possibility of Genocide Jack being among them. Someone was bound to start the killings. Leon had already let himself look like a weak, nervous mess. No way in hell he'd let himself be a victim, he still had a bright singer's carrier waiting for him outside, and he wouldn't let anyone crush his dream to save theirs.

His head hung low, eyes fixated on his feet, tapping on the cold ground faster and faster to the rythme of his racing heart. Maybe he could hide in his room until everything was over, maybe he needed to strike first. The crushing darkness threatened to swallow him, breathing was getting harder, more painful. He couldn't think like that, he couldn't bring himself to take someone's life, could he? Even if it was to save his own?

"Oh, my my~ what do we have here?" He frowned and looked up, but bumped head first into a wall.

"Ow..." Leon groaned, rubbing his forehead. He frowned, confused, and squinted his eyes at the wall of leathery black facing him. It took him about two seconds to realize what felt wrong; the voice he'd heard came from far too high. As he rapidely stepped back, it took him another second to realize the next thing that was off about the situation; the leathery black wall was a boot the size of a bathtub.

"Dammit...!" He hissed and craned his neck up. A massive, grinning Junko towered over him, looking down at him with a glint in her eyes he did not want to see. As if he wasn't enough of a target already, he had to screw things for himself and show his worst weakness. He should've listened to Kanon and worked harder to control his size-shifting.

"Hey, Junko! Don't say a thing, just let me explain- Ah!" He didn't get to finish his sentence. He saw the fashionista kneel down and reach a gigantic hand out towards him to snatch him up, a heartbeat after that, he felt an agonizing pressure on his upper body, knocking the air out of his lungs.

"Aww, what a cute little guy you are! So easy to just-" Junko made a squelching sound, the pressure around him increased, threatening to pop his lungs and break his ribs, "-off you."

He had to stay calm. He had to focus to grow out of the fist. Fear gripped Leon's body tight, tying his limbs up with an invisible rope he couldn't grow out of.

"L-Let... go...!" His head got sickeningly lighter. He saw the trunk sized finger around his neck get closer to his chin as he shrunk further under the pressure. Junko looked down at him with an amused smirk, like a a child testing how easy it would be to break her newest toy; there wasn't an ounce of pity in those large blue eyes.

He was going to pass out, and he couldn't do anything about it. He was going to be killed, and he couldn't fight back- He had to fight back. He couldn't die in some blond bitch's fist like an insect.

"Stop it!"

For a split second, Leon had thought the rush of heat and blood in his tense body was from the constricting grip around him, rendering him powerless. Turned out, it was a wave of rage, flowing through his veins like lava; and Leon was ready to erupt.

A familiar, comforting sensation overtook his body, the tension in his muscles loosened and was replaced with an almost ticklish tingling. The pressure around his body disappeared, leaving him to plummet to the ground. Focus! The tingling grew stronger, invading his body, shadowing any pain and any emotion.

The fall was short. His spine didn't crack and his head didn't explode. Leon tentatively opened an eye he hadn't realized he'd closed, and he found a midget Junko, standing a few feet below him and trapped between his spread out legs. He'd grown back to a safe height- even bigger than he wanted.

"Wh... What the hell? You bitch!" Still frightened and panicked, his hand acted on its own and slamed the small girl on the closest wall. It was so large it completely engulfed her torso. He felt her frantic squirming under his fingers. Junko, the girl who had almost become his killer seconds ago, who's grip was merciless and eyes cold, was looking at him with those same blue eyes wide with fear. A hot, choking rage still lingered in his body. No, he wouldn't lash out on her, but she had tried to murder him in cold blood so she at least deserved a taste of her own medicine.

Leon pressed his hand harder, until he felt the squirming body go still. His hand grew on the small form, larger and larger until he could barely see tiny feet and a bit of hair poking out. Junko was his only witness, so he could make a gruesome scene no one would be able to investigate without knowing his secret. The tingling in his body never faded. His head met the ceiling, he had to shift to a kneeling position before he got squeezed between four walls. If he didn't calm down soon he'd either break something or get seriously hurt, but he'd already started his handiwork. He only needed a few more seconds to make the perfect unsolvable case, to see Kanon again and save her, if only the muffled screams under his palm would die down...

"Guys! Are you alright?" Makoto rushed out of his room, gasps and monstrous creaks filled his ears. It all died down as soon as he scrambled into the dark hallway. He found Junko, leaning against a wall and clutching her chest, and Leon, crouching down, sputtering and coughing. He'd heard a crash, and the scene in front of him made it seem like they had been fighting, but there was nothing out of the ordinary that he thought could have made such terrifying explosion.

"Leon!" Makoto knelt besides him and rubbed his back, an attempt to calm his coughing fit and hysterical breathing.

"Hmph," Junko huffed, although it sounded like she was holding back a cough. Makoto eyed the girl; she looked like a shriveled mess, a stark contras to her usual impecable look. "You shouldn't trust this guy so easily, Naegi. He might be hiding one hell of a dark secret," she turned on her heels and staggered off, with a slight yet noticeable limp. Makoto was confused, but his attention was on the boy on the ground. Whatever had happend between the two seemed to have left him on the verge of passing out.

"Come on, Leon," he helped the taller boy stand up and let him lean against him for support. A quick trip to the bathroom to freshen up would do his classmate good.

Even leaning, Makoto noticed that Leon was much, much taller than him. And good lord, he was so heavy, it was hard for the shorter boy to even take one step with all that weight leaning on him. Well, he'd never met a baseball star in real life, so he supposed they were that much stronger and taller than an average guy like him.

____

Done! Looking alright already, I had fun with this one esp that unexpected part where Leon got murderous, I didn't plan for things to go that way! Just wanted a nice lil thing with the anxious boy being helpless and getting saved by hope itself, not an angry baseball star ready to kill. The pacing is kinda weird tho, but I don't feel competent enough to be able to fix it, so I'll just leave it as it is.