#maybe its the cutoff sleeves

[lollytea]

Love Lies Bleeding, Lies Love Breeding

(From that poll from yesterday. Something I wrote back in August from last year. Set during the Summer in Gravesfield. Some of Hunter's thoughts on falling in love, looking out for Gus and nursing a doozy's worth of guilt at the same time. Not gonna put this under any tags so it's a blog exclusive I think. If you somehow manage to see this, hello!)

Hunter isn't stupid.

Well, okay, maybe he's a little stupid.

Nobody ever says so. Nobody ever implies it. They wouldn't. They're too nice to him in this house.

But he sometimes wonders if they ever think it.

Sixteen years of being strung along on the trail of a genocide plot and smiling brainlessly the whole time was not very 'Genius Teen Prodigy' of him.

Belos was his blindspot, he can recognize that. He won’t let it obscure his perception of his own intelligence.

Or at least, he’ll try.

He can't afford not to try. His perception means everything right now.

Hunter isn't stupid, he knows this.

He's not unobservant.

He's not even allowing his own insecurities to fog up his lens of what's directly in front of him.

There is a girl in this house. A special kind of girl.

She's disarming. Perilously so.

Too disarming for her own good.

It's a girl who has miraculously mutated sunburns into a contagious disease.

There's this thing she does. A seemingly harmless thing. She asks if Hunter would like to garden with her on sun baked days.

He needs to study this recurring phenomenon. He needs to study her. Because Camila's garden is nothing but a compact patch of land. And yet, here's Hunter, getting hopelessly lost in it.

The hours split between his fingers. He loses time.

It's her. It's always her.

Because there's sunlight catching in the twists of inkblot braids and leaving white-gold nicks in glossy green irises.

Because there's frilly little blouses with not a sleeve in sight to sheathe an emphatic set of biceps.

Because there's shorts with cinched waist bands to better accentuate the bold flare of hips and the prominent bump of a stomach. Shorts with a very high cutoff hem, thus introducing him to the concept of thighs and calves in a way that he wasn't emotionally prepared for, but it really adds to the ensnaring madness of the whole situation.

Because there's her, in all her enthusiastic babbling glory.

Because she elaborates on every plant they tend to, with that soft, slightly raspy edged voice. Occasionally, the voice squeaks on its vowels when her cultivated descriptions grow a little too passionate.

She tells him that she used to get teased for it, and he bites his tongue and doesn't say that those ridiculous little vocal cracks have got the big stupid rock in his chest tightening.

And before he knows it, there's a fried scarlet stain on the back of his neck.

Camila specifically instructs them to re-apply sun lotion every few hours, and Hunter initially had every intention of taking her advice.

He forgets.

He gets lost in the garden, and he gets lost with the girl, and he forgets.

And now the back of his neck matches her seething shoulders.

She forgets, too.

He doesn't overlook that detail.

Hunter isn't stupid.

The reality of this girl's existence has teeth. He knows this because those teeth have been gradually sinking into him since the day he met her, one sweet penstagram message at a time.

There are wild, writhing, squirming jungles erupting in his stomach.

He's pretty sure if you cracked open his skull, it'd be filled to the brim with flower petals.

She's got those prickly vines coiling around the galdorstone inside of him as if she owns the damn thing.

(She very well might own the damn thing. Or, well, she'd be entitled to at least a chunk of it in a custody battle if he's being perfectly honest.)

She has well and truly captured him.

And he's pretty sure she's done it on purpose.

If you're going to melt solid gold down to a puddle, at least consider the consequences. That puddle is going to spend his post-liquidized days mooning over memories of the melting process and wonder how the hell you're still not done with him.

She isn't done with him. She makes that perfectly clear every time she catches him alone and flirts him into a quiet corner.

Yeah. That's a thing that's currently happening in this house. For some reason.

He doesn't know how, he doesn't know why, but Hunter of all people, has managed to pique Captain Willow Park's interest.

In a less than platonic way, he means. He feels the need to clarify because it's that specific aspect that has wrung his nerves tight.

She never says it. Not explicitly. It's not exactly overt.

He notices how she always reels herself back whenever the playful ambiguity begins eroding. It's almost like she's fiddling with him, but unsure of how to get a good grip.

Either that or she's deliberately building anticipation.

Obviously, if she's going to go and make a botanical disaster out of his brain, he's going to end up paying a lot of attention to her and how she carries herself when he's around.

However...it could all be a joke.

It could be some confusing teenager thing that he's not yet educated on.

It could be that she's just overwhelmingly nice, and this is all in his head.

But Hunter does not think that's the case.

Hunter isn't stupid.

So, the tentative assumption that there's something about his colorless disposition that she finds attractive is the reason gross, sticky sweat soaks his underarms whenever he interacts with her.

He's learning a lot about emotions that he previously believed himself to be well acquainted with, only to discover that they operate far differently under foreign circumstances.

For example, nobody knows fear like Hunter. The feeling is second nature to him.

And he can confidently proclaim that whatever is swelling between him and Willow has him scared witless.

But if that's the case, why do his facial muscles ache from grinning?

When Hunter gets excited, the words tend to bubble out of him at a breakneck pace.

But, as Willow casually traces the tip of her index finger down his inner forearm while crooning so maddeningly close to his ear, why can he not manage to choke out a single word?

That's what Willow does. That's what she does to him.

She rearranges things that should be straightforward. She shoots all those thoughts and feelings ten feet under, and before he can figure out what’s become of him, they're erupting from the ground, fluorescent and wholly unfamiliar.

The sturdy floors beneath him become tiles made of leaves fluttering over a depth of nothingness. It's unknown terrain. He doesn't know where to step, and it leaves him terrorstruck.

What now?

He thought he had adjusted to how it felt to free fall, plunging through the sky, slicing through the icy air.

Falling, falling...

His internal organs are in a jumble from the sudden rush of turbulence.

Falling, falling...

The sensation is unpleasant but temporary. Within seconds, Flapjack has steered his staff-form to swoop directly under Hunter's plummeting body and the two latch on to each other.

He supposes this feeling is a little like that. Or at least how it was in the early days of his and Flapjack's delicate partnership, before the contents of his stomach learned to strap themselves down.

But the biggest difference is that there's no near immediate release from how it feels to fall.

Falling, falling…

When does the falling stop?

Obviously he's heard the phrase. It's common. Almost overrated. Most recently, it was heard rolling off Amity's tongue as she churned out a thorough and sentimental report on why she fell victim to the falling and to the thing she fell into.

Falling, falling…

It makes him feel off balance.

He’s defenseless.

And, for reasons unbeknownst to himself, he likes it.

He likes this. Whatever it is.

She makes him like it. Which is so typical of her.

He likes being scared out of his skull. He likes her attention, no matter how startling the blaze of heat is.

It's exhilarating in a way. Like back in his castle days when he felt the jittery elation of reading books he wasn't allowed to

But it never lasts. Sooner or later, the guilt begins oozing until all of his childish joy is polluted.

Deception is deception, no matter how innocent the intentions are. Ultimately, Hunter is always left with a horrible sinking feeling for lying to his uncle.

Well...

Deception continues.

Even in this new life.

Even for this new Hunter.

Even if he tries to ignore it.

He likes seeing traces of his reflection in Willow's gold framed eyes, knowing the boy she's looking at has a red, bloody, gooey heart between his ribs.

That boy's expression is stitched together from a totally random assortment of genetic features.

That boy looks like that by pure coincidence.

That boy's body is his own.

He likes pretending to be the boy in Willow’s eyes.

'We'll tell them,' Luz had said on the night they were forced through the portal. 'When we're ready.'

When will he be ready?

The truth is molding away inside of him.

He hasn't drummed up the courage to tell Luz yet because he's not prepared for her potential disapproval, but...

It's been an ongoing litigation in his brain court.

What if he never tells them? Would that be so bad?

Who does it hurt?

If anything, telling them would gut them clean through.

Telling them would lead to pain that's irreversible for everyone involved.

Do they really need that?

Sometimes Gus jolts awake at night, suffocating on his own serrated screams, but Hunter has figured out the trick of calming him down.

It involves being Hunter.

He's not good with finding the words and clicking them together in a way that subsides a riotous mind. The kind of magic Gus effortlessly works on Hunter every now and again.

But he knows two words, and they're just as effective.

'I'm here,'

The basement couch should be too narrow for both Gus and Hunter to comfortably sleep on.

And yet Hunter always ends up laying there after one of these episodes. And something about his awkwardly elongated body with all its jagged corners is as good as any comfort blanket for Gus.

It's only after Hunter hears the slow even breathing against his chest that he closes his eyes, wondering how he got here. Why is he one of the first people Gus seeks out in the dark?

Maybe because of that thing he said a while back.

I promise. I wouldn't mess with you.

Gus has spent a lifetime being deceived by liars, and this simple fact is restless in Hunter's stone heart.

If Hunter tells them, he's exposed as one of those liars.

And he doesn't know how much more shattered trust Gus can take.

It's one of those nights as he's being beckoned to sleep by the steady rhythm of Gus’ quiet snores when Hunter’s mind, left unattended, goes wandering into the bleakest depths.

What would happen if he told Gus?

This friendship would be done. He knows that much.

But severed ties wouldn't be where the hurt ends, would it?

What if it takes months, no years, before Gus’ night terrors ease up?

What if time passes, tides change, moons molt into new moons, and in that hazy future, Gus is sleeping somewhere far away from here?

What if, when he wakes up screaming, it’s because of those nights spent in Camila Noceda’s basement, and that thing he had allowed himself to sleep next to?

What if Gus spends the rest of his life rattled by how close the two of them had once been? Just how easily he could have had the breath wrung out of his throat by Hunter’s witch slaughtering hands.

In this future that Hunter imagines, there is no solution for Gus’ hurt. And he’s unable to wrap him up tight in his arms and tell him he’s here because he's not here anymore.

He’s somewhere far away from Gus.

Or he’s dead. Which is basically the same thing.

Not like it would matter anyway. Even if he was close enough to hold him, it would just make everything worse. Hunter having been in close proximity a time ago would be the whole reason for the hurt. The most considerate thing he could do is stay far away or be dead and rotting or whatever it is that keeps him out of sight and out of mind.

He notices that whenever Gus calls out to him in the dark, he barely sounds like himself. It’s like this iron spined thirteen year old has regressed eight years and he's nothing but a frightened preschooler begging to be held by someone safe.

Hunter is not someone safe.

But maybe, for Gus' sake, he can pretend to be.

If the truth never leaves Hunter's tongue, then he will never be the monster in Gus' bad dreams.

So, he's protecting him, right? If Hunter just keeps his huge mouth shut for once in his life, Gus won't have to carve another painful tally mark into his already worn down heart.

There doesn't have to be another liar in Gus' life.

Not if he never finds out.

Hunter can pretend.

He can bury himself into this game of make-believe until the lie and the truth become in the same.

Wouldn't that be better for everyone?

He knows it's dishonest, but he can make up for it with his life. He'll make them happy, he promises.

[4ragon]

maybe a klapollo fluffy thing in which Klavier is afraid of meeting Mikeko bc he's heard that cat is a MENACE to anyone but Apollo and Mikeko just... Instantly likes him and bonds with him and that makes Apollo fall in love with Klavier even more (klav is part disney princess don't @ me)

“Alright, and you’re wearing long sleeves, right? I don’t want him scratching up your arms or anything.”

“Ja, for the last time, I am wearing a jacket.”

“And long pants, right? You’re wearing jeans?”

“Nein I thought I’d try cutoffs today, they go so well with my yes I’m wearing jeans.”

“Okay, and if he tries to make a break for it, just, do not let him through the door under any circumstances, alright—”

“Herr Forehead, please, I’m already nervous enough as it is,” Klavier shot back, knuckles white around the phone. “Just…I’ll call you back if anything happens, alright?”

“Right. Okay. Good. Great. Thanks, Klav.” There was a loud bang, and some shouting in the background, and Apollo cursed. “Stupid—whatever! I’ll be there in like an hour. Or two hours. Some amount of hours.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Klavier said. The elevator dinged, and he was on Apollo’s floor. “I’ll make sure Herr Kätzchen doesn’t starve while you’re in transit.”

“Thanks. Alright, bye.”

“Tschüss.” And with that, Apollo was gone.

Leaving Klavier standing outside Apollo’s flimsy apartment door.

Klavier took a breath. Alright. It was just one cat. He could do this, right? He was already supposed to be heading to Apollo’s place today; now he was just flying solo. Not the end of the world.

Klavier fiddled with the new key on his keyring for a second, before finally slipping it into the lock. He unlocked the door slowly, and then, in one fluid motion, he pulled the door open a crack and slipped inside.

Immediately, the cat that was trying to squeeze out into the hallway sprinted away.

“Ach! Sorry, Herr Kätzchen,” Klavier said, quickly locking the door behind him. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

No cat. Klavier glanced around. Well, no disaster so far. “Herr Kätzchen?” he tried, not expecting much. And then, with a shrug, he turned toward the kitchen.

Apollo had warned him this would happen. Mikeko was a bit shy, after all. Or, well, maybe the words had been ‘a complete bastard’ but Klavier decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. No scratching and hissing so far, so that was probably a win.

Klavier strode over to Apollo’s tiny kitchenette. Now, it wasn’t as if the place was very big, there weren’t many places the cat food could be hiding. It took a moment, but finally, Klavier found it on a bottom shelf. He swiped up the bag, turning.

There was a pair of eyes staring at him from part way out from under the couch.

Klavier froze. The cat froze. They stared at each other.

Admittedly, Klavier was a dog person, and had been for a long time. It wasn’t that he didn’t like cats, he just grew up around dogs. He knew dogs. He knew what noises and gestures a dog would make before snapping at his hands. Cats, however, were a mystery.

Said mystery just continued to stare at him. “H-Hallo, Kätzchen,” Klavier greeted, striding over toward the empty food bowl as he shook the bag of food. “Unfortunately, your normal chef is stuck in traffic on the other side of town. Hopefully I’ll do just as good of a job, ja?”

The cat crept closer as Klavier began to fill the bowl, before scurrying over as Klavier straightened up.

“There we go. Hopefully that’s enough.”

The cat ate quickly as Klavier returned the bag to its shelf. Then he sighed, cracking his back and making his way over toward the ratty couch in the middle of the room.

They were supposed to have a date night tonight, but Klavier had a feeling they would just order takeout when Apollo finally got there. Not the worst night he could’ve imagined.

A small mewl at his feet, and Klavier jumped, head snapping down. The cat was looking up at him with big eyes. Klavier froze. Was that good? Bad? Threatening? Friendly. “Kätzchen,” he greeted cautiously.

The cat mewled again.

Klavier glanced around. Was it trying to tell him something? Did he want Klavier to give him more food? Maybe he should let the cat smell his hand, that was what you did for dogs, right? “Do you need something, mein freund?” he asked, carefully holding out his hand.

The cat paused, sniffing Klavier’s hand. And then the cat lunged forward, rubbing its entire face against Klavier’s hand and making a low, rumbling sound.

Klavier froze.

///

“Okay, I’m home!” The door slammed shut behind Apollo as he sighed, hair drooping. “Can’t believe I had to pay for an uber in this mess. I swear, when I fix my bike chain—” And then he froze.

Klavier looked up at him, a look of wonder and panic on his face. Mikeko sat directly on Klavier’s chest, curled up and purring. “Herr Forehead is this good or bad?” he asked weakly.

“How did—wh—” Apollo gaped, mouth opening and closing. “...you little bastard, why the hell do you never want to cuddle me like that?!”

“...the cat or me?”

“Shut it.”

[bluefirewrites]

‘Retail Romance?’ Juke Mall!AU Drabble

About a year ago I made a post about a JATP Mall AU where everyone works at the mall in various stores. Lately, given that I now work at a mall, I’ve been greatly inspired to write a little bit for this AU. I’m still debating whether or not to turn this into a fic. 

Enjoy.

From the moment she left her shift at Aéropostale, Julie could feel eyes on her, the whispers following right after...

She knows what it’s about. Flynn gave her the riot act this morning.

It was one big misunderstanding. A rumor that grew a life of its own through the many retellings.

The Sunset Galleria in Los Feliz, California is, by no means, a small shopping complex. No. This mall is home to over 100 stores, the employees even more numerous and ever rotating and changing. 

But word travels. And it travels fast. 

For the record, Julie would never, ever do what they said. Absolutely not in the service elevator. And especially not with-

"Hey.” 

She spins around at the sound of the voice. Great. 

The boy in the cutoffs doesn’t manage his usual grin, his hazel eyes reading something nervous. 

The whispers seem to intensify, now that they’re interacting in the middle of the mall- several of the kiosks playing audience. 

Seeing the Spencer’s employee for the first time since that night unlocks a quiet rage. They need to talk. 

"Sidebar." Julie hisses and pulls Luke to the nearest store, which so happens to be Casper. 

The mattress store doesn't appear to be busy. No one follows them inside. Perfect.

"Hiya Julie. Hi Luke." The salesperson greets.

"Hey George." The two of them reciprocate at half the energy. 

Julie bypasses the mattresses and heads straight towards one of the house cubbies. She practically forces Luke inside and closes the curtain shut behind them. 

She goes right down to business.

"Are you hearing what they’re saying about us?” 

Luke groans. He must have already known that too.

"And you think cornering me at Caspers isn't gonna make it worse?"

"Luke!” Julie snaps, "You did tell people nothing happened in the elevator, right?"

"I tried!" Luke defends. 

"There's do or do not, there is no try!"

The boy quirks a brow, "Yoda? Seriously?"

Julie crosses her arm, "Yes seriously!"

She’s as serious as anyone can be in this situation. 

The whole thing started because of one faulty service elevator and an ill-fated trash run. She and Luke had been stuck for a little over an hour- the longest hour of Julie’s life. 

They talked. About music, about life (which Luke would argue to be one and the same). That was all that happened. 

But, given how they were found, it might have hinted the contrary. 

With no heating, Julie having forgotten her jacket, and Luke’s aversion to sleeves as a whole- cuddling seemed like the smart choice. 

A short snooze followed, and the next thing Julie knew, the elevator was operating and Nick from the Apple Store had to be the one to rouse them. 

Embarrassed couldn’t begin to cover what Julie had been feeling. Especially since Luke had a bit of a reputation at the mall for his looks alone. 

(All someone had to do was say ‘that hot Spencer’s guy’ and people would automatically know who they were talking about).  

All Julie wanted was to work her shitty job while going to school. She had no time to deal with any of this. And from what she gathered, Luke Patterson is always involved in some sort of trouble. 

Julie’s mouth puckers into a frown, “Look, I get how this might be all amusing to you, but I’m telling you, kindly, to knock it off.” 

"Hold up," Luke makes a 'time out' gesture, "Did you think that I’m making shit up for people?

"How else could it have spiraled the way that it did?” 

Luke appears offended, "I dunno, maybe it's because Nick was the one who found us?"

"Nick's a nice guy." Julie would see the blonde around and would often chat during his breaks. He had always been so sweet to her. 

"Perspective, perspective,” Luke mutters. 

Julie senses something in his tone.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

"Luke!"

"Can we just drop this?" Luke glances at the curtain, “My 15′s almost up. And I wanted to say ‘hey’ earlier because of this-” He digs into his pocket and pulls out a chain with a dahlia charm, “You forgot it in the elevator.” 

Julie snatches up the necklace, holding onto it tight. It had been her mom’s. 

“Uh, thanks.” She says sheepishly. Remorse seeps in, “Sorry for blowing up on you. I know you’re not like that. I guess I got a little freaked. 

Luke’s shoulder sag, “I get it. It’s not fun being ‘food court convo’. But it’ll blow over when something even weirder happens. Like the Easter Bunny could show up hungover again?” “Oh god,” Julie grimaces, remembering last spring’s incident, “I’ve never seen someone projectile vomit so much. The kids were traumatized.” 

“At least we only traumatized Nick,” Luke parts the curtain, ready to head out, “The guy’s got a big, fat, crush on you, you know?”  Julie blows out an unamused breath, “So Flynn says.” 

“So what? You’re not into Apple Store boys?” Luke jokes, though it seems forced. 

“I just think ‘mall-ationships’ are messy.” Julie admits. 

“Right,” The boy points pathetically between him and Julie, “Messy.”

There’s not much of a goodbye when Luke scurries out of the house display and out of the store altogether, already late returning from his break. Julie takes a moment to sit on the bed. She’s not ready to leave and face everyone just yet. 

She re-clasps her necklace and ruminates. 

“Messy,” she repeats to herself as she plays with the dahlia charm, “We can’t have that...” 

Tagging: @blush-and-books @lydias–stiles @smolfangirl @echocharm17618 @thedeathdeelers @lukepattersun @ourstarscollided @missjoolee @story-courty @heademptynothoughts @mouse-fantoms @thereigning-lorelai @lucid-h​ @quicktypesomethingclever​

[sheepiemc]

MC Outfit Headcanons

outfits i think the boys would like on any MC so inclined to wear these kinds of fashions

Lucifer

Much like himself, i would imagine that he would like MC covered from head to toe lmao

Ok maybe not HEAD to toe but pretty dang close lol modesty is the best policy

Like ideal outfit i think would be simple black turtle neck, pencil skirt, tights and either pumps or booties depending on the weather. Hair UP. subtle “natural” makeup - maybe a red lip if they’re feeling feisty. a coat if its cold. Tell me lucifer wouldn't be a SUCKER for a pencil skirt

Since we’re dealing with pride incarnate, MC always has to look their best so casual clothes is a no-no. Business casual MAYBE but absolutely NO JEANS. Signature colors of blue and red. I think he would like simple but EXPENSIVE jewelry and obvi wearing the matching necklace u got for his birthday

For like a formal wear/evening gown type thing im thinking of ONE SPECIFIC DRESS from the sims but I imagine his taste would lean to long sleeve, square/high neck gown - no embellishments but a nice textured material, maybe ombre? - with a very low back, so its like a surprise and when he touches the small of ur back he feels ur skin ☺ I just think its cute and if u subscribe to the "pactmarks make tattoos" camp then bonus if his pactmark is on ur back lmao

I think it would be like- he likes u looking all dressed up in public bc then him and only him will get to see the real u in private and vice versa… thats what im going for anyway :^p

Mammon

Now on the complete opposite end of the spectrum, mams would SHOWER mc in expensive/designer clothing that SCREAMS money!! Flexing on the haters smthg smthg drip right?? Idk im old now idk but VERY FLASHY

And he's a model yea? So like they get free shit so that they can be seen wearing it right? So I dont really think it's so much that *he* spends money on them (bc avatar of greed? Spending money on other people? Unheard of ;^P) but he gets free shit and is like "I can't wear this its too old" or "it doesn't fit me" or w/e excuse he can come up with

Idk who started this but i agree with the HC that mammon is a leg man so mini skirts/shorts are the demon’s UNDOING

I see mammon’s style as veering more toward casual/street fashion.. if I had to call it *smthg* ig i would say hypebeast??

So like ideal outfit would be like some fancy expensive sneaker (sneakerhead!mammon just makes so much sense, doesn't it??) like jordans or nike sneaks or those balenciagas the ones that look like socks or like those chunky sneakers u kno the ones, embellished/distressed cutoff Jean shorts, a simple white crop top with like some designer logo right and like an oversized fancy embellished jacket - leather or jean or bomber - and cute but ineffective sunglasses right 😆 to match ofc

We out here drippin in finesse

Fave color on u is gold bc DUH and I can see him liking a dramatic/smoky eye like a brown/gold smoky bidness… and jewelry would be gold too of course and like BIG gold jewelry like a chain and earrings and sunglasses are like his signature accessory

I think an evening gown/dress for him would also have to be gold and VERY SPARKLY… much like his character song, he’d want all eyes to be on you so that everyone knows how good *his* human looks, when at the same time he’ll be very protective and p much hanging off u the whole time, making sure that ur only paying attention to him ;^)

Leviathan

So like the obvious answer here would be cosplay right? And like that’s canon im p sure if MC indulges him by cosplaying his faves like ruri-chan OFC he’s gonna love it but like i think he would find it adorable if they did closet/casual cosplays inspired by his faves and otaku!MC’s faves too… its subtle enough that in the beginning he’s not sure if ur doing it on purpose or not but after like the third time he’ll catch on and ask

Another clothing style i think levi would like on MC (bc u can only closet cosplay so many times) would be the kawaii harajuku type clothes

Like specific outfit im picturing is like oversized anime-type t shirt or sweatshirt/pullover hoodie and a pleated mini skirt, probably plaid, knee high socks (or THIGH HIGH if u want to kill the demon), a cute plushie purse too if ur feeling it and wanna complete the look (YES i went on pinterest BEFORE writing this one up this time) shoes??? Idk what would go with that… sneakers? Mary janes? Oh like platform sneakers? Egirl shoes lmao

I cant see him being picky about makeup and hair and jewelry and stuff bc he mostly wants to hangout with u in his room so comfy/casual clothes are all but guaranteed in his presence *shrug emoji* and when he does go out, it's not usually to anything fancy so comfy/casual still wins … a couple days later and im considering him being partial to egirl makeup… bc that like kinda anime inspired already..? LIKE i still stand by him not really caring BUT egirl makeup is fucking cute

Fancy events still do happen, however, and he gets dragged to ones that have to do with diavolo SO I was thinking about his preference for that sorta thing and I cant see him picking a typical evening gown/fancy dress where its like slinky or sparkly or whatever (though if u did pick one i think he would like one that compliments his scales…. Not that he would tell u that and i also cant find one on pinterest like that lmao) again i think he would like this specific style of dress that i found on pinterest thats apparently japanese but its like mostly made of tule? Sometimes embroidered, high collar -either with tule or another blouse type thing underneath, long/three-quarters sleeves, mid/knee-length skirt… they're like ALMOST Lolita but not quite… idk they just looked really pretty and matched his style

I also looked at sailor dresses bc admiral of hell’s navy but the american sailor dresses werent doing it for me and the japanese sailor dresses looked too casual for like a formal event but i think levi would also like the sailor look bc its freakin adorable how can u not love it

I had trouble figuring out what his “favorite color” on u would be bc this man’s colorscheme is all over the god damn place -his sin color is orange but his hair color is purple but his eyes are yellow but his NAIL color is blue and the dominant color scheme of his casual clothes is like yellow and blue?? And the dominant colorscheme of his demon for is purple and a little yellow AND THEN HIS HUMAN WORLD LOOK IS ORANGE AND FUCKING TEAL so like he’s all over the god damn place and i decided that his fave color on MC is pastel purple bc then they always match his hair color *WHEEW* that was a lot…. Oh my god i just realized his human world shoes have different shoelace colors on both feet…. Hoo boy……

Satan

Ok now here’s an easy one… at first when i was coming up with a style for him i was thinking “kinda preppy with a little bit of edge?” and it took me till today to realize “oh that’s dark academia” LMAO

So obvious answer is obvious but hey if it aint broke right? Its like librarian meets dark wizard which is TOTALLY his aesthetic duh its just enough rebellion to not be like lucifer too goody-two-shoes, ykwim?

So like a lot of browns and plaids and dark greens (ofc), cozy sweaters and cardigans, slacks OR skirts either works, coats sometimes if its real chilly, like boots or oxfords if ur feelin fancy

OBVIOUSLY if u throw in a cat themed accessory here and there he would find that absolutely endearing but it would have to be something subtle and not too tacky.. After all, im p sure aesthetic beauty is like a big thing for satan… if im not mistaken..

For a dress i struggled bc he’s one i also can't see really being into like a typical fancy flowy gown - though if he had to pick one i think it would be a velvet emerald number that looks very very pretty - his dress choice would be a more toned down, like vintage 40s inspired look? Like not too long but not too short, its got like three quarters sleeve and asymmetrical embellishments bc again rebellion

Ok ik i just said that satan appreciates beauty but like i can see him being picky about a makeup look either? Obviously like green to match the fancy outfit but like other than that all bets are off THO…. i do feel like he would be the opposite of partial to red lipstick… for no reason in particular… I looked up dark academia makeup and it's mostly brown... Yeah that'll work, it's pretty.

Asmodeus

So asmo's aesthetic pinterest board is the biggest one out of all of them and that wssnt on purpose at first but doesn't that make so much sense?? I just kept adding stuff like "oh that's cute" "oh THATS cute" "oh that's CUUUTE" and i just went off from there

So unsurprisingly asmo LOVES to dress up MC, unlike the others who passively like their MC's style, asmo is ACTIVELY involved in shopping with/dressing up MC however he likes

And boy does he LIKE… so like I got it in my head that asmo is the opposite of lucifer: where luci wants MC to cover up, asmo wants to see as much skin in as many creative ways as possible (without making MC uncomfortable ofc - I had to draw a line somewhere)

Heavily influenced by the popular fashions of today, more so than the other bros. If I had to give it a name I'd call it "mean girl aesthetic" bc its like mostly pink, got fuzzy elements, sparkly elements, lots of short things, lots of tight things, for some reason i can only picture like strappy shoes? With high heels obviously… i think of like stripper shoes but like a little less dramatic… asmo would wear them tho (the stripper shoes i mean) or maybe also like thigh high boots n go go boots idk FOR THE AESTHETIC

For like dresses, I got a lot of like club dresses with interesting cut outs and lots of glittery elements… for the stray formal event, I got slinky pink numbers with like high slits, they didn't have it on pinterest but probably fur or feather boas type things ya know old hollywood glamour but also make it modern

Another OBVIOUS type of clothing asmo would prefer to see MC in is LINGERIE DUH i only added like 3 to the pinterest board but like theres a lot of cute underwear out there… ALSO those big ol sheer robes with the fuzzy trim is very asmo aesthetic, right?

As far as makeup goes, I think he would be more experimental with like glitter and rhinestone elements… just picture asmo doing MCs makeup like that image of those two girls with the strong gay energy … idk kids call it the euphoria aesthetic right?

Beelzebub

Finally… my boy… funny enough i dont think beel (or his twin for that matter) cares that much about clothes in the first place so this part won’t be super long (probablyy)

So i got another obvious answer for ya: workout clothes! Duh! Because i and some other beel enjoyers ive seen share the sentiment that beel and MC workout together for bonding purposes and ya kno to spend more time together whether MC is a gym rat or not, i know even *I* would workout if my gym buddy was beelze-fuckin-bub but i digress

So yeah workout clothes! Or athleisure wear if ur really not keen on working out lol i imagine he likes it bc a. Its representative of ur spending time together and b. A lot of workout clothes is lowkey sexy by design and like ik some people think beel is a dummy or oblivious - even when it comes to things of *that* nature but u and i both know better than that… [*wiggles eyebrows*] and for shoes i think it would be obvious that theyre like running shoes and sneakers but the sneakers u can actually use and scuff without having to wipe with a damp cloth every time that u wear them out lmao

SPECIFICALLY, i think his fave would be leggings with the mesh cutouts bc WOW some of those leggings show A LOT of skin - u just dont notice at first glance. 👀 And like sports bras and crop tops and crop sweaters OH i also think he would like those really short like faux gym shorts? Like those are you nasty shorts but without the words [is this perhaps subconsciously influenced by my memories of the ghost and the goth? Maybe so…]

But one can’t wear workout clothes ALL THE TIME [i mean they can but where’s the fun in that] so like brighter/warmer colors like yellows and oranges and reds, flower prints like sunflowers and daisies, shorts and joggers and sweatshirts and the like… aw rompers! Thats cute

As far as picking a fancy type dress? I couldnt find EXACTLY what i wanted on pinterest but i was going for a celestial sun inspired number with like tule and glitter stars and gold and yellow and orange and if u r feeling extra, one of them like sunray halo headpieces

Also i said he prob wouldnt care and its dumb to put on make up when working out anyway but im also biased so i think he would like peachy/orangey looks, specifically orange blush+freckles bc thats cute i think!!

Belphegor

As previously mentioned, i cant see belphie being picky about clothes, even more so bc dressing up takes effort and its so much easier to not put in effort into anything so why would u bother for the avatar of sloth

That being said, obvious answer is obvious but, his fave clothes on MC are pajamas!! If one likes to sleep in their birthday suit or no pants thats fine too 😆 but i was definitely thinking in the realm of very cute pajamas that i found on pinterest... for shoes: do i even need to say it? Slippers obviously lmao bc i love to hoard slippers and they kinda get beat up when u wear them a lot, i think MC would have a small collection of mostly novelty slippers lmao

Mostly consists of graphic tshirts/tank tops with like sleepy slogans and imagery and shorts or pj pants, lots of cow themed stuff lots of star themed stuff ya know, all very cute i think

But one cant wear pjs all the time (again) and tshirts/sweatshirts/sweatpants are all very comfy and very lazy so like its not so much that i think *he* thinks MC looks good in those kinds of clothes (bc who can say that they look *GOOD* in sweatpants…. Ill wait aND NO BEING SKINNY IN SWEATPANTS =/= LOOKING GOOD IN SWEATPANTS), moreso i think that he likes the influence of his sin on those choices bc i for one subscribe to the notion that all of them have like a sin radar that detects their sin in people and it feels good to have that influence over someone!! Bc demons!!

SINCE I WAS BULLIED INTO PUTTING REAL CLOTHES ON THIS LIST, we’re sticking to lazy theme with like long dresses/skirts bc no pants is the ultimate lazy fashion choice, flannels, loose overalls, sweaters, those spaghetti strap dresses with tshirts underneath and since im being FORCED to pick a fashion “aesthetic”, were gonna go with a weird mix of lazy 70s style, twilight-core/elena-gilbert-core and goblincore, all with a purple/blue, cool color palette bc ofc

Anyway when dressing up cannot be avoided, i also think its very obvious to chose a dark blue/black dress with glittery stars and moons on it!! That also parallels beel’s dress of choice bc twins of light and darkness!! Parallelism!! Parallelogram!!

And once more (with feeling) makeup = effort and we aint about that here BYUT, ik theres a lot of motherfuckers out there that call belphie an eboy so why not do egirl makeup again, but we’ll go for the slightly more depressed egirl that makes her darkcircles even darker on purpose lmao

Diavolo

So of the formerly-undateables, only dia came easy to me ig bc ive read enough ff to come to a conjecture about his personality type? Whereas the other ones are way more of a mystery to me and like i could come up with fashion choices that i think they would like but it didnt feel genuine?? or correct?? Like i was just saying anything to say something…. BUT DIA……

So it came to me very quickly and all at once - i think i even completed his pin board b4 asmos - and its all bc i saw something that i thought i should add to luci’s pin board when it hit me… NO… THIS IS FOR DIA’S MC… and that first outfit was: a tweed 2pc skirt/jacket combo and suddenly i was like oh ok… so dia’s style for MC would be a perfect combo of lucifer’s and mammon’s MC styles… where its kinda professional-ish?? With like the jackets and stockings and stuff (luci) but its also fun and very “show off ur wealth”-y in a more subtle/tasteful way (mam).

Probably more of the blair waldorf-y aesthetic, with a LOT of tweed, suits, jackets, dresses, all of it, 2pc suit/skirt combos but more fashion than business, a lot of that damn gucci belt 😆 i imagine that its all designer shit but shit u likely wouldnt recognize as designer unless u were a fashion person and idrk how to look for this kinda stuff on pinterest so i only found like 2 but prob vintage designer stuff that only celebrities can get like on loan?? Because he is extra as hell!! Shoes?? Also designer ofc probably more heels than anything but there are many types of designer shoes i guess

It would also absolutely be a power move on Dia’s part to dress up his MC this way, to show off his power and influence and he also wants MC to look good and if ur the type of person that feels good in UBER expensive designer clothes than more power to ya… so like this “style preference” is unique in that its a preference that only he would be able to give you, like its super unlikely that any MC just has this stuff lying around in their closet, unless ur MC is also super rich.. So take from that what u will 😏 this was not initially a deliberate choice but I am making it one now

Now for a fancy ball/evening gown, i have zero doubt in my mind that he would love to see MC in a “princess diavolo” type dress bc he is - what? - extra 👏 as 👏 hell 👏!! So like i was trying to find something VERY specific on pinterest that nothing could actually match but its red and black and gold (surprise thats his favorite color scheme) with like a lot of intricate embellishments with like embroidery and beading and lace and tule but like really beautiful and not tacky or kitschy or gaudy (hopefully) maybe some ombre dyeing ya know? Things to make the dresses more expensive lmao the only part directly replicated from the "princess diavolo" sticker [bc *that* dress *is* tacky as hell] is the choker necklace type thing bc I think that would look really pretty I also think he would like MC to wear like crown-adjacent headwear like circlets and maybe a tiara if they will let him but pretty luxurious jewelry because I understand what the appeal to lord diavolo, demon prince and acting ruler of the devildom, is EXACTLY

Now we've established that dia is extra af but I think daytime makeup looks would be pretty reserved… this time I think a dark red lip would be his shade… party looks however we would go ALL OUT, RED EYE, RED AND GOLD EYE, RED SMOKEY EYES JUST VERY DRAMATIC he'd prob be into like a black lip or even a gold lip im sure magic can make that happen lmao im sure he'd like to use magic to have fun with ur appearance in other ways too like changing eye color or making it look like u have horns (thinking of a very specific situation in a fic I read lmao) I think it'd be fun, if MC was comfortable with that ofc

Now side note, I wrote all this (and all the rest of the boys too) with the intention of nailing down a human world style that each of them would like and I stand by what I've picked for dia… BUT, I think that the clothes that he most like to see MC in is the RAD uniform, not be its hot or sexy or whatever but it's representative of this project that he's worked so hard for and u being there, alive, willingly attending classes and participating in stuff that many just dismiss as "the whims of a silly prince" just makes dia swell with pride and joy… maybe the human world suit combos remind him enough of the uniforms too actually lol 😆

I have a lot of dia feelings that I haven't been able to get a full grasp on yet ok

ALSO forgot to mention but dia canonically likes cute things!! So like if u can incorporate those kinds of things into outfits then all the better!! Good luck finding a way to match idk a stuffed animal purse? With vintage gucci lmao

[abbysfrenchbraid]

hi! i love all of your writing, especially your abby fanfics. i know you’re in the middle of your eivor series right now, so pls disregard if you don’t feel like writing this request or don’t want to write for abby, but i was wondering if you could maybe write a hurt/comfort type imagine where abby either comforts the reader when they’re sad or after they have a nightmare. i get really frequent nightmares and love to read fanfics like this but totally understand if you’re not into the idea. all the love and i hope you’re doing well; merry christmas if you celebrate!

so this is half a year late, but I finally have a little more time to go through my requests so here it is! this is also the first time I've actively avoided gendering the reader as I've gotten a few requests for a nonbinary or genderfluid reader. This is not a cop-out on that, I definitely want to write an explicitly nb reader but I figured this would make the reading experience better for quite a few people!

Summary: The reader has recently lost a family member and stranded with the WLF. They struggle with frequent panic attacks and nightmares. Abby notices and tries to take care of them.

CW for loss of a family member (sibling), death and grief, heavy trauma, panic attacks, anxiety, nightmares, and struggling to breathe. The nightmares are also fairly violent and creepy so please watch out for yourselves and only read this if you're in a good state of mind <3

I've Got You

The truck rattled as Leah drove it up the road to the WLF stadium. It had been a particularly rough day on patrol. You and the other wolf had run into a group of freshly infected that seemed to have been three families once. The children had been the worst. The youngest had probably been about ten years old before she had turned, her eyes bright blue and her blonde curls matted with dried blood. You had taken care of them all, of course you had. But it had been horrible. You folded your hands in your lap to keep them from shaking.

You had joined the WLF a few months ago after losing your team and your little sister in a clicker-infested cellar you had set up camp in. It had been so fucking stupid, so careless. But everyone had been tired, you hadn’t seen any infected in days, and so only one of you had kept watch. He barely had time to scream before the clicker had ripped out his throat. It had been chaos, madness, everyone scrambling to escape into the network of damp corridors and storage rooms, more and more clickers being drawn to you by the noise.

Leah raised her hand at the armed guards at the gate and they opened for your truck. The sun was setting behind you and most people were inside the stadium now, eating or spending time with friends. Both of you were quiet. Leah’s legs were covered in slowly darkening blood and the smell was nauseating. The tall wolf pulled the truck into its designated spot and took a deep breath.

“Y/N?” You looked up at her. The circles under her eyes could compete with yours, but her face was still as kind as ever.

“Yeah?”

“You take care of yourself today. Take a long shower, get something to eat. I’ll let Martha know to give you a double portion for dinner.”

You smiled faintly at her. This was how it was here. All the wolves had seen terrible things and probably done even worse. They all chose to let it out in training and then leave it behind them. No sense in holding on. You nodded.

“Thanks, Lee. See you in the gym tomorrow.”

The brunette grinned and patted your thigh.

“6 am sharp!” She jumped out of the car and gave back the keys at the checkpoint, then she vanished inside the stadium.

You stayed in your seat. Your fingers had cramped up and you were scared to unfold them, scared you would never be able to stop them from shaking again.

Sierra had held your hand all the way, not letting go as you dragged her through the darkness, fought off four infected, stumbled up stairs you had not come down on, and found yourself in a ravaged theater. You had run all night and only stopped when you were unable to go a single step further. When you had found a small pawnshop that you could lock up safely, you had made a bed of your jacket and a moth-eaten blanket from the theater. Sierra had started to cry. You would never forget the way dread had started to creep into your limbs, seeping into your skin and stretching dark tendrils toward your throat. You had rolled up Sierra’s sleeve and there it was. A relatively small mark, just the puncture wounds from two teeth turned into mean scratches as Sierra had pulled her arm from the jaws of a clicker and kept on running. But it had already begun to fester, the edges of the wound an angry red contrasting the white blisters forming around the site. It felt like the ground had been pulled from below your feet. You fell and fell, unable to speak, to do anything, just staring at the thing that meant the end of the world. The end of your baby sister.

A shout caught your attention - another car had returned to the stadium and was pulling into a spot a few paces away. It was Manny and Abby, everyone’s favorite duo. The attractive joker and the stoic warrior. They were among Leah’s best friends and she had introduced them to you a while ago, all of them welcoming you warmly. It had been strange, being part of a group again, a team. Your heart was still too sore.

So you had quietly pulled yourself out of most of the group evenings, the film nights and game nights and arm wrestling tournaments and what else there was to do. Manny had tried his luck flirting with you a few times and one time you had even joined him for a dance, but after realizing he wouldn’t land with you he had respectfully backed off and now treated you more like a little sister. Mel and Owen had been nice, too, both very secluded when they turned up together, but Owen was funny and enthusiastic and always yelled your name across the cafeteria or the training course when he saw you. He was one of the few people who could make you laugh no matter how hard you tried not to.

Nora was a whirlwind, the smartest person you had ever known and unfaltering no matter what the universe threw at her feet. She liked poetry and hard rock music, big men and even bigger women. You had often wondered whether she and Abby had ever hooked up. But you weren’t sure of anything concerning Abby. Always the stony face, the impenetrable wall, the arms-length smile and polite nod in the hallway. It could be infuriating at times. Especially because despite it all, against all your better judgment, you could feel yourself growing more and more interested in her, constantly looking for her in a crowd and sneaking side glances to see if she was listening to you or laughing at the same things.

The car doors banged and the sound echoed through the small space. Manny was laughing about something Abby had said and walked with a bounce in his step as he approached the counter to hand back his keys. Abby looked like she always did, khaki cargo pants and a black cutoff, her green backpack slung over one muscular shoulder. Some strands of hair had escaped her braid and curled up at the back of her neck, slightly damp from her sweat in the hot summer air. Trying to calm down and distract yourself, you let your gaze wander up her strong build, freckled biceps flexing as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. And then she looked straight at you. You didn’t move, stayed frozen as you had for the last few minutes, wishing you were invisible.

Your face felt hot and suddenly there were tears blurring your vision - what was happening?! Your knees started shaking as well, bouncing uncontrollably as your nails dug into the backs of your hands. Your throat was closing up and your bottom lip was quivering. All you saw were specks of grey and green, all you felt was your body resisting every command and rebelling against you, trying to hold you in place and suffocate you silently.

Suddenly the door opened beside you and a soft, deep voice said your name. You tried to blink the tears away but your vision wouldn’t clear up, panic blinding you further. You began shaking your head as your chest convulsed in a desperate attempt to draw breath.

“Fuck, Y/N, okay.” Abby’s voice was determined and suddenly her hands were on your wrists. Her skin was warm and dry, her grip firm. She softly shook your clasped hands and somehow moved so her face was in front of yours, a mess of green and brown and there, soft pink where her lips moved, speaking quietly and telling you to breathe with her. One hand stayed on your wrist and her thumb massaged the cramped up muscle there, digging painfully into your flesh but pulling you back to her slowly. One hand came up closer and a calloused thumb brushed the tears from your cheek before her hand landed on your shoulder, fingers pressing into your upper back.

“Hey, look at me, look at me, Y/N, you’re okay, I’m here. Can you try to breathe in with me on three? Just stop fighting for a moment, count with me and then we’ll breathe in together. Okay? One.”

You tried to sit up straighter and stop the erratic twitching of your chest, still choking on your breath as you waited for her commando.

“Two. Three.”

Her hand pressed between your shoulders from behind and suddenly you could breathe again, a loud gasp that turned into quiet sobs as you fought to release the air from your lungs before breathing in again.

“There we go, you’re doing so good,” Abby’s hand was on your cheek again, “so good, Y/N, breathe with me, that’s right.”

Your vision slowly returned to you now, though it was still distorted by  tears. Abby had half-climbed into the truck, one foot between yours and one dangling out of the open door, her weight held up only by her right leg as she pressed her back against the dashboard. A wet laugh escaped you. Abby shot you a confused look, paired with the hint of a relieved smile.

“What?”

“You’re gonna get a cramp as well,” you rasped, “if you keep that up.”

You slid further to the inside of the broad seat, making room for Abby next to you. She grinned and sat down, one hand still on your wrist. Her eyes went down to your trembling hands, your knuckles still white from your iron grip.

“Okay, let’s take care of your hands, hm?”

Her fingers wandered softly over yours, then she rested one hand over your tangled fingers and pushed her other thumb between your palms, gently loosening your hold. She pulled back each finger slowly, starting with your thumbs and stroking each one as they relaxed. Finally, your shaking hands lay freely on your thighs.

“You’re doing so well, Y/N, don’t worry.” She took one of your hands in her lap and started massaging the inside of your palm. “Wanna tell me what got you there?”

You sighed, breath still shaky with tears.

“Um.. We ran into infected today. Runners. Families, it seemed.”

Abby sucked in a breath and gave you back your hand before taking the other and starting the same gentle procedure.

“Those are the hardest. Kids?”

You nodded and Abby made a soft noise. You took another rattling breath.

“I… I lost my little sister. Back when… before I came to you.”

Her head shot up and she stared at you, shock and sympathy playing over her features.

“Fuck, Y/N, you never said…”

“I know.” You lowered your head.

When you had stumbled out of the woods around the WLF stadium and begged them to let you in, they had stripped you and searched you before bringing you to their leader. After hours of questioning to make sure you weren’t a spy for any other group, he knew about your team and everything you had done in the last three years, but you hadn’t mentioned Sierra once. It wouldn’t change anything anyway. They had brought you to Nora who had patched you up, examined you, and fed you before showing you to your new room. It was a small closet on the base level of the stadium, with only a tiny window letting in some light. You were thankful for a roof over your head and the armed posts surrounding the stadium.

“I didn’t want to talk about her. I didn’t lie to Isaac or betray you. It wasn't anyone's business.” You gave Abby a fierce look. Nothing would change your mind about this. She just nodded, her eyes wide. You sighed, brushing your hands against each other.

“She was bitten. I see her every time I close my eyes. It wasn’t fair.” You dropped your hands into your lap. “I just don’t… I can’t -”

Abby’s hand was on yours again, her fingers sliding between yours.

“Hey. I won’t tell anyone. But I’m here, okay? If you want to talk.”

You scoffed.

“No one ever talks here. You’re all made of stone.”

Abby contemplated this for a few seconds, then she squeezed your hand.

“My dad was murdered a few years ago. Almost all of our families are dead.” Now it was your turn to be shocked. Fuck. You had been so insensitive. “By us, I mean Owen, Nora, Jordan, and me. Owen lost his parents to infected and his brothers to the scars just last year.”

Abby leaned back and stared out of the windshield, the garage now dark except for a few small lamps at the exits.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. Of course, I’m in no place to tell you how to deal with it.”

“No, it’s fine. You’re right, you know. We don’t talk about those things.” She looked at you, her gaze so intense you almost pulled back. “Would you like to?”

You forced yourself to hold her gaze.

“I think I would. Now that it’s all… further away.”

Abby nodded, squeezing your hand again.

“Then we’ll talk. You can tell me all about your sister. And… I haven’t talked about my dad in a long time. I think I’d like to tell you about him, too. He was great.”

A small smile played around her lips and you felt a rush of gratitude for this wonderful woman. You could practically see the memories playing through her head behind those green eyes. She blinked, looking back at you.

“Wanna get something to eat? You must be starving. I know I am.”

“Sure.” You shared another smile and exited the car together, fingers still intertwined as you crossed the lot and Abby held the door open for you.

Dinner was already over, but Leah had kept her word and the elder woman at the counter gave you both gigantic bowls of beef stew with thick, coarse bread. You told Abby about your patrol that day and she hummed sympathetically. She knew what it felt like to deal with infected children. After a while, the door to the cafeteria flew open and Manny came in, sleek black hair still wet from a shower. He grinned brightly as he made his way over to you and sat next to you on the metal bench.

“You coming along tonight?” he asked you, drumming his fingers on the table. You raised your eyebrows.

“What’s happening tonight?”

He tutted at Abby and gave her a theatrical frown.

“You didn’t invite Y/N? It’s Mel’s birthday! Owen got his hands on some prime hooch. You celebrating with us?”

You smiled at your plate. The last thing you needed was to get wasted and completely lose any shred of sanity you had left.

“Thanks, but I don’t think I’ll join you. I still haven’t showered and I had a terrible day. I’m just gonna read a bit and pass out, I think.” You gave him an apologetic shrug.

“Oh, come on, Y/N. Read and pass out? It’s a special occasion! You sure?”

“Yeah, but really, thank you for inviting me. Maybe next time.”

He sighed heavily, then he clapped his hand on the table and stood up.

“Abby, you need to get moving, girl. We’re meeting in 20 and you stink.”

Abby just raised her eyebrows and shook her head, finishing her stew. Manny's laughter echoed through the empty room as he left.

“Do I really smell that bad?” There was a twinkle in her eye, a conspiratorial smile on her lips. You smiled back.

“Not at all. He probably smelled me.” You grabbed her empty bowl and placed it in yours. “Go have fun, I’ll clean this up. See you at training.”

Abby cocked her head to the side, seemingly not sure what to do. You gave her another encouraging smile.

“Really, I’m fine. Thank you for taking care of me, I owe you. Go celebrate!”

The tall blonde stood up slowly. She still seemed hesitant.

“I’ll come check on you later if that’s okay. And you can always come over and talk to me if something’s wrong, alright?”

Your chest felt tight all of a sudden, but not in the way it had earlier. It was the feeling of reaching for something knowing you’d never have it, of wanting something so bad and only being able to admire it from a distance. It felt like being homesick. You thought of Sierra again and how she had been your home, the only anchor in your life. Fuck, not now.

You shook your head as if to get rid of your thoughts and gave Abby a brave smile.

“Okay. But I’ll be fine. Promise.”

“Okay. See you later, then.”

“See you.”

Abby gave you a last look over her shoulder before exiting the cafeteria and you made your way over to the kitchen. The cooks had already left and a lanky red-haired boy was the only one still there, washing dishes and listening to music on an mp3 player. The metallic sound in his headphones echoed through the peacefully quiet kitchen. He almost jumped two feet into the air when you approached from the side, bowls in your hand.

“Fuck, you scared the shit out of me! Jesus Christ.” He pressed a wet hand to his chest, the suds leaving a dark print on his shirt.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how not to scare you, music and all. Sorry.” Both of you had to laugh and he held his dripping hands out for your dirty bowls.

“Don’t worry, I just wasn’t expecting anyone this late. You just come back from a mission?”

“Just a patrol run.”

You leaned against the counter and watched him clean the dishes.

“Anything exciting happen?” His eyes were bright and excited. He was even younger than he had looked at first, he couldn’t be older than 15. “My brother is on patrols too. Maybe you know him, his name is Danny.”

You crossed your arms and tried to remember the face that matched that name. Danny had been on patrol with Owen for a while when you had first arrived, but now he was stationed on some outpost and you hadn’t seen him for a long time.

“Yeah, I think I do. He’s not here at the moment, right?”

“He’s at the Serevena Hotel. I may be able to visit him there soon, depending on how my training goes.”

You raised your eyebrows.

“Training to be a soldier?”

“Of course.” He stood up straight. “I want to do my part, protect our people. Fight the scars.”

You didn’t really know how to respond to that. Even though you were thankful the WLF had taken you in and even though you had also participated in rigorous training from the first day on, soon being cleared for missions, you didn’t really have the same loyalty and faith for the organization. The seraphites were your enemies now, of course, but they were just people. You all were. Sometimes you wondered how it could have come to this - so few people left on this earth and here you were, slaughtering each other.

“I hope you can visit your brother soon.” You let your arms fall to the side and turned to leave. “Thanks for the dishes.”

“No problem,” he mumbled, putting his headphones back in.

You were in no rush to get to your room and so you took a few detours, passing the gym which was filled with quite a lot of people getting their training in after work. You looked into empty classrooms, trying to decipher what was written on the board. Would Sierra have studied here? Sat in the front, eager to learn the things you hadn’t been able to teach her? What if you had come here earlier, before it all happened? Could they have protected her better than you had? She would probably be walking next to you now, telling you about her day.

When you finally arrived at your room, you just quickly grabbed a towel, a clean shirt, and some shorts and headed for the showers. The hot water seemed to help somewhat. You wondered what Abby was up to right now. Probably getting drunk and having fun. Was she the type of person who danced? You had never seen her dance before. Maybe Nora would persuade her. There it was again, that heavy, pulling feeling. You turned the water off, got dressed, and went straight to bed. Enough heartache for one day.

-

You woke up confused, not knowing where you were at first. It was pitch black and there was some kind of noise outside. You reached around you and finally found the flashlight next to your pillow, turning it on and trying to wipe the sleep from your eyes. What was going on?

It had to be after midnight. The lights in the stadium were only on from 5.30 am to 10 pm in order to save power. You untangled yourself from your sheets and got on your feet, swaying a little. There it was again, that strange scratching noise accompanied by a quiet mumbling sound. It wasn’t directly at your door but seemed to come from further down the corridor. There were a few other people living down here in storerooms and sectioned hallways.

Yawning, you walked to the door and opened it ever so slightly, pressing the flashlight to your thigh in order to keep the light down at first. You couldn’t see anything, so you waved the flashlight around the corridor. Your stomach dropped.

At the far end of the hallway, a small figure stood in front of one of the doors, trying to open it to no avail. Small hands scratched at the wood, quiet brabbling reached your ears. This was wrong. Very wrong. The figure hadn’t noticed the light yet. It went on to the next door, trying the door handle and whining in frustration when it didn’t open.

Why didn’t the people inside wake up from the noise? You stood frozen as the figure tried the next door. It was a child, dressed in dotted pyjamas. Its blonde hair was shoulder length and tangled in knots. You slowly pushed your door open wider in order to step out into the corridor. Suddenly, the hinges squeaked and the sound echoed through the hallway.

The child slowly turned toward you. Blood was dripping from its mouth, its eyes were cold. It took a step toward you. You looked down and realized you were holding a gun. Oh. Right. Infected. You were supposed to shoot them.

As the kid made another strange brabbling sound, more blood ran down the front of the cotton pyjama shirt. You raised the flashlight with shaky fingers and aimed it right at the child's face.

Your blood froze in your veins. No. This couldn’t be. You had taken care of her, you had made sure she wouldn’t… wouldn’t turn into one of these… No, you had given her a peaceful ending.

“Sierra.” Your voice was raspy, quiet with terror. “Sierra, what are you doing here, baby?”

She growled. A horribly wrong sound, coming from someone so small and so lovely. Only she wasn’t lovely anymore. She was sick. Infected.

“Sierra!” You spoke louder now, your voice pleading. “Baby, please don’t do that. It’s me, see?” You raised the flashlight to light your own face for a moment. When you put it back on her, she had stopped walking. Her face was a mask of ice-cold fury. When she spoke, her voice rattled like nails in a metal box, rough like chalk on board.

“Y/N… Why?

You sank to your knees.

“Oh baby, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know what to do. I’m so sorry Siri, I was so helpless. I didn’t know, I didn’t…”

“You… killed… me.”

She was getting dangerously close now and all of a sudden you could smell her, too. Foul, dead, vile. The smell of sickness and decay. You raised the gun, a war raging between your head and your heart.

“Sierra, stop. Stop.” Tears were streaming down your face. “Please stop, Siri. Don’t come any closer. Stop, stop! Please stop!”

Your little baby sister was so close that you could have reached out a hand and brushed through her hair. You stood up and took a step back.

“I’m gonna have to shoot you if you don’t step back. You’re infected, Siri. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but you can’t, please Sierra. Don’t, please don’t…”

She hissed at you and lurched forward. A shot rang through the air and the girl fell to the floor right before you, her tiny body at your feet, blood slowly pooling around her head. You dropped the gun and it clattered on the concrete floor. You clapped your hands to your mouth and screamed into your palms, crying out again and again, trying to gasp for air. It felt like your heart was being torn in two.

Suddenly there was a hand on your shoulder. You whirled around, but there was only darkness. You let yourself fall to the floor and kept weeping into your hands. Someone gripped your wrists and shook them slightly. You opened your eyes.

Abby was sitting on the side of your bed, her face right above yours and full of worry. You shook your head, frantically looking around your room for any kind of danger. The room was almost dark, light just seeping through the crack under the door. It was still early in the night.

“Y/N? Hey, hey. You’re okay.” Abby slowly let go of your wrists. “You had a nightmare. You’re okay now, I’m here.”

You were still too terrified to speak, so you just scooted further to the side and grabbed Abby’s hand, giving her a pleading look. She understood immediately, kicking off her shoes and climbing into bed next to you, holding out her arm for you to crawl into. You pressed yourself to her side and rested your head on her chest, feeling yourself tremble in her arms. She just held you for a while, letting you listen to her heartbeat until your own body began to calm down.

“Hi,” you whispered into the dim room. Abby stroked your hair while she held you tightly.

“Hey there,” she mumbled back. “Feeling better?”

“Not really.” You looked up at her. She smelled faintly of alcohol and something sweet. “How was your party?”

The corner of her mouth twitched.

“It was absolute chaos. I had to escape from there before it could consume me. And I also had someone to check on.” She squeezed your shoulder. You cringed at the thought of her finding you like this, writhing and talking in your sleep, crying out or even fighting her without knowing who was in front of you. You had always had horrible nightmares and Sierra had taken the brunt of them, waking you countless nights and trying to stay brave when you yelled at her or shoved her away in the first moments of consciousness, not yet fully back in the real world. Now that she was gone, they were a hundred times worse. You pressed your forehead to Abby’s shoulder.

“Did I scream?”

“Not really. I just knocked a few times and then I heard you talking, and you sounded so panicked that I thought I should make sure… I’m sorry I just came in like that.”

You shook your head.

“No, don’t. Thank you for waking me. It was… God, I hate this.”

Abby’s fingers combed through your hair, massaging your scalp. It was heavenly.

“Does this happen a lot?”

You snorted involuntarily.

“Every night. Several times. I never sleep through and I never sleep enough.” You wiped a hand over your face. “Sorry, I know I’m not the only one and it could be worse. It’s just… hard.”

“Excuse me?” Abby’s tone made you look up at her. “You’re telling me you have several panic attacks in your sleep every night but it’s fine because others have nightmares, too?”

You frowned. Panic attacks? You’d never thought of it that way.

“Y/N, you’re allowed to complain. To me especially. Remember, we wanted to talk about our problems? Be open about all this?”

She was right. You pressed yourself closer to her.

“I guess, yeah. Thank you for… for being here.”

“Wanna tell me about your nightmare?”

You held onto Abby’s shirt, clenching the fabric in your fist as if she might be ripped from you at any moment.

“I don’t know… I mean, why not. Well…” How were you even supposed to explain all this? How would you ever talk about your sister without freaking out again?

Abby pressed a kiss to the top of your head and you felt the tension in your stomach dissolve. You took a deep breath.

“I can never tell I’m dreaming. This time I thought I heard something in the corridor and I went to see what it was. A little girl was scratching on doors, trying to get in. She looked like the… like one of the infected we ran into today. But I made a noise and when she turned around she was... She was -” You gasped for air, trying to keep your calm. Abby hummed softly, stroking your back and giving you time to think.

“She had the face of my sister. Sierra.” You hadn’t said her name out loud in so long, only in the nightmares. Maybe it was time to rid her name of that terror, that fear, and grant it the love and warmth it deserved. “Sierra was my little sister. We ran with a group the last few years, stayed with them after our mom died. But she was bitten and I had to… I had to let her go.” You swallowed hard. Abby’s thumb drew circles on your back.

“So in the dream… the girl turned around and she was her . And I didn’t know what to do. I begged her to stop, to not come any closer because she was infected, she was bleeding, and -” You drew in another breath and buried your face in Abby’s chest. “She asked me why I’d done it, why I had… and she kept coming and then she attacked me and I - I had to, I had to shoot her.”

Hot tears were burning in your eyes and your throat was impossibly tight again. Abby gently placed a hand on your cheek and turned your face up toward her.

“I’m not gonna tell you it was just a dream because I know it's more complicated than that. I get them, too, sometimes. But what I can tell you is that I’m here, that you’re safe now, that your sister is in a better place and that one day you will be able to speak about her without feeling like you’re falling apart.”

“You think so?”

“I’m sure of it. And now you're with me. We can heal together. I’m here, I’ll always be here for you, okay?”

You raised your head from her chest and turned a little in order to get face to face with her.

“Abby?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you doing this? Why now? I didn’t even think you liked me. You don’t have to take care of me.”

Abby’s features softened and she huffed out a silent laugh.

“I don’t know. I really… You were right when you said we keep everything to ourselves. But some of us do it more than others. And I guess I’m the worst when it comes to showing what I want.”

The sentence hung in the air for a moment. Abby took a deep breath.

“I like you, I really do. I just thought you needed more time. I know what it’s like to suffer and to feel like you can’t breathe. I wanted to give you space. But then I saw you in the car and I immediately knew what was happening. And I finally realized that I wouldn’t make things better by staying away.”

She held your gaze and you felt something shift between you. Her hand on your back came to a halt. You smiled softly.

“I always thought you didn’t find me interesting enough to talk to me. I was so jealous of the others for being this close to you and for making you laugh. I wanted that, too.”

“You’re the most interesting person that’s ever walked into this stadium,” Abby said softly. “God, I’m so sorry. I never wanted you to feel left out.”

You rested your head back on her shoulder.

“You made it up to me already. Really, you saved me today. Twice.”

Abby chuckled.

“Just wait until I have my next breakdown and then you can return the favor. Shouldn’t be long, they get to me every few days.”

You wrapped your arms around her torso.

“Well, then you’ll just have to stay close by.”

She hesitated, holding her breath for a second. You waited.

“Do you want me to stay? Tonight?”

You smiled to yourself.

“Would you?”

“Of course.”

You kept talking for a while. Abby told you about the party and about the cook Nora was currently hooking up with, and you told her about the boy in the kitchen. She recalled training with Danny when she first joined the WLF, laughing about how he had boasted that he wouldn’t lose to a girl and how she had him on the ground in a headlock in about two seconds.

At some point you must have fallen asleep, because the next thing you knew you were in the truck again, sitting in the passenger seat as the car flew through Seattle at top speed. You looked over and in the driver's seat there was the red-haired boy from the kitchen. His face was determined, a hard mask of concentration. He was panting hard, driving as fast as he could. Arrows were flying around you, soaring through the broken windows of the car and missing you by mere inches. A horse was whinnying. Scars. You immediately pulled out your gun and started shooting at everything that moved outside, hitting at least three people and a horse.

“Sorry,” you whispered as you reloaded. Animals weren’t fair.

You looked up and suddenly there was someone standing in the middle of the street. A small girl, brown-haired and in a red dress. Her back was to you. You screamed at the driver, but it was too late. The truck hit the child and it was thrown against the windshield, making a horrible noise as it cracked the glass and rolled over the roof to the back of the car where it fell to the ground. The truck came to a shrieking halt and you jumped out, gun drawn. The scars had vanished. You and the redhead ran back to where the girl was laying in a heap on the street, so small and fragile. Blood was running through the cracks in the pavement.

You turned the girl on her back and froze when you saw her face.

“Sierra! No, no, no, oh god no, what have we done - Sierra, Sierra, baby, look at me!”

“Y/N!” You heard your name but Sierra’s lips weren’t moving. “Y/N!” You whipped your head around and woke up.

It was dark and Abby had an arm wrapped around you, the other was holding your cheek. You swallowed and struggled for air.

“I’ve got you, hey, just breathe for me, I’ve got you.” Abby’s voice was sleepy and rough, something you'd have never thought you’d have the privilege of hearing. It calmed you down instantly. You dug your fingers into her arm, strong muscle flexing beneath your touch.

“Shhh, that’s right, just hold on. You’re okay.” You melted into her arms, hands and legs still shaking. She made a quiet humming noise in the back of her throat and pressed another kiss to your scalp. “I’m here. I’ll take care of you. I’m here.”

“You’re here,” you whispered and she hummed again in response. You rested your head against her chest and listened to her breaths as they slowly became more regular, chest steadily moving against you. Her heartbeat thumped softly in your ear. Cocooned in the wolf’s arms and serenaded by the quiet symphony of her sleeping body, you finally drifted off to sleep again.

[lundya366]

Until The End Of Time (And Then Some) | Charlie Gillespie x Black!Reader

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x Black!Reader

Word Count: 2235

Warnings: None that I can think of (let me know if I should add some)

Summary: Sometimes love is a lazy river that makes your heart swell, and sometimes it’s a waterfall that makes your heart pound. A cute and fluffy one shot about a quiet night in the Gillespie household.

A/N: So this is the first fic that I’ve ever written, but I like how it turned out so I wanted to share plus I haven’t seen a lot of Charlie with a Black!Reader and I wanted to see more of that. I would love you all’s feedback and would love to know if you enjoyed it!

As Netflix is about to autoplay the next episode of your show, you click pause. You stand from the couch and straighten up your leggings and pull down the t-shirt that you borrowed from Charlie’s drawer. Walking around the house you duck your head into the rooms and call for Charlie to see where he is.

 “In here,” you hear from the room he claimed as his “music and masterpieces” room (his words, not yours).

 You walk in to see his back facing you with just a sliver of his face in your view. You look around the room and take in the yellow walls and tan carpeting, the posters and stickers littering both the walls and the floor, the instruments propped up around the room, and the small messy desk in the corner with Charlie’s laptop set in the middle and make a mental note to help Charlie straighten things up tomorrow. You take one last look at the yellow walls and smile (he painted the walls yellow because it’s a happy color and writing music is a happy thing).

Your attention turns back to your husband who is sitting in the middle of the room on a stool. His hair is pulled back into a messy bun and he has on sweatpants and a cutoff tee, but this one is older, so it showed quite a bit more of his chest and back than usual. It was originally an oversized t-shirt you got him very early in your relationship as a joke. Across the front read “Black Queen” with the silhouette of a black woman wearing an afro. You had bought it the day after a calm discussion (cough cough heated debate cough cough) about what clothes he could pull off and you were so sure he couldn’t make this work. He picked you up from work the next day and had cut off the sleeves and put the words “I’m dating a” across the top and you laughed for a full five minutes before you were able to utter a sentence to him.

 (He felt like a genius for that one and you couldn’t necessarily disagree.)

 You shake your head to remove the memory from mind and focus on your husband yet again. He’s strumming the same chords on the guitar and as you step closer you can see the frustration starting to creep into his face. Your hands rest lightly on his shoulders and you can feel the slightest tension leave them at your touch.

 “What’s not working out?” you question knowing his frustration comes from the song not coming together like he wanted.

 “It’s just not working. None of it is. I’ve been here for hours and I finally got the melody, but every lyric I write sucks. And honestly, I kinda hate the melody now too.” He leans forward to set the guitar back onto the stand before settling back onto the stool, still facing away from you. 

 As he closes the journal he was using to write notes and drops it to the floor, you notice all of the scratching out he’s done. You frown at his harsh criticism of himself and start to massage his shoulders in an attempt to soothe him.

 “Well why don’t you take a break for today and pick up where you left off tomorrow. Maybe you just need to see and hear everything with a fresh set of eyes and ears.”

 “No no no, I can’t,” he responded, “I’m meeting up with everyone in the morning and I really wanted to have everything done for them.”

 Your eyes drift up to the ceiling as you think back to the conversation you had with Charlie earlier. You could’ve sworn he said they were supposed to work on and hopefully finish the songs tomorrow.

 “Oh, I thought you all were having a writing session? I didn’t know you had to finish everything tonight. Maybe I can make you a snack to help get your juices flowing then?” 

 You take the scrunchie (your satin scrunchie that he stole actually) from his hair and start to run your fingers through it, starting to get rid of the knots he didn’t brush out before he started writing.

 “We are having a writing session; I just don’t want to disappoint them you know?” He took a deep breath as his eyes closed and his head tilted back into your touch. He hummed in contentment as your hands worked through his hair and massaged his scalp.

 “Babe,” you start “you can’t be so hard on yourself okay? They’re not gonna be disappointed. You guys’ best songs happen when you all come together. Remember Youth?”

 A smile took over his face as Charlie remembered the rambunctious night the song came into existence. Everyone had come over to hang out at yours and Charlie’s house to watch movies and play games and somehow everyone ended up cramped into the small music room strumming guitars, making beats, writing lyrics and throwing out ideas. Even you, Carolynn, and Owen’s fiancée threw in a couple of suggestions.

 “Maybe you’re right.” Charlie said softly, his body relaxed because of your head massage.

 “You know I am.” You replied back. You start to comb Charlies hair back up into a ponytail and pull it through the scrunchie and back into a bun before settling your hands back on his shoulders.

 “Or maybe I’m right but I’m just tired and don’t feel like arguing with your logic, that kinda maybe makes sense?” He threw back.

 You lean down to kiss his hair before wrapping your arms around his shoulders to hug him from behind.

 “Mmm yeah okay. I’ll let you think that’s the case, sweetheart,” you whisper in his ear.

 You start to pull back from him and plan on heading back to the living room, but before you can remove your arms from around him fully, he grabs onto your left arm. He pulls you around so you’re now standing in front of him, towering over him for once.

 (You’ll admit, “towering over him” may have been hyperbolic, but how often is it that you have this height advantage over him.)

 He doesn’t say anything yet, just looks up at you. You can see that his eyes trace your features, and a small smile graces his lips (not that you’re staring or anything). He takes in your pretty dark skin and thinks of how amazing the setting sun looked against it. He thinks you shine like an angel, with your coily hair as your halo and the sun as your wings. His eyes focus on your chin that he teased you about for the occasional hair or two that made their escape.

 (No worries, one quip about how you at least have hair on your chin zipped his lips real quick.) 

 He takes in your full lips with just a touch of lip gloss still left on them, from your earlier trip to the store. He could kiss them all day and never tire. His smile grows as he gets to your nose. Your teddy bear nose as he calls it because “it looks just like the cute little noses on the Valentine’s teddy bears!” to which you roll your eyes at because in no way is your nose “little” (it’s pretty wide to be quite honest) and in no way does it look like the ones the cute teddy bears have.

(You still smile when he says it though, but you definitely don’t get flustered over it. Nope, never.)

 He looks at your cheeks, your high cheekbones on display due to the smile on your lips. Secretly, it’s one of his favorite things about you, they seem to just add to the joy you radiate.

 And finally, he meets your eyes, of which many arguments have come about. Whose eyes are prettiest to be specific. He says your eyes remind him of the sweetness of a Reese’s peanut butter cup, the richness of coffee, the friendliness of a puppy, and the beauty of a thousand sunsets on the beach. You always say his eyes remind you of the excitement of life, the hope of a new beginning, and a love that burns like a thousand suns.

 (You guys always ended up agreeing to disagree.)

 Finally, his smile grew to its full size and his eyes squinted to make room and you’re sure your expression matched. His smile never failed to bring a smile to your face. His ability to experience pure unbridled joy, unmarred and unburdened by the world, reminded you of the joy that children are able to indulge in. Fully and without obstacle. 

 Your heart starts to beat faster, and you feel flutters all over and suddenly you feel shy from his gaze and overwhelmed with love, all at once. His hands wrap around your waist as he pulls you to stand between his legs. Your arms move to drape across his shoulders.

 “I love you,” he whispers, eyes never leaving yours.

 “I love you too,” you whisper back. 

 Everyday you wake up thankful that you’ve never had to doubt how much Charlie loves you. His words and actions more than speak for themselves. And every day you’re thankful you don’t even have to think about whether you’ll be able to say “I love you” back. It’s instinct at this point. One you hope you’ll never have to unlearn.

 He pulls you into a hug as he rests his head against your chest, and you rest yours on his head.  Charlie begins to hum a song and after recognizing it as I See the Light from the movie Tangled, you join him. It was the song playing when he proposed, but that’s a story for another day. You don’t know how long passes before you pull back just enough to be able to see his face.

 “Wanna watch something with me?” And just like that his smile returns full force.

 “So that was your plan all along wasn’t it? Play with my hair to make me lose focus, butter me up with your sweet words, just so you didn’t have to watch a show by yourself, huh?” He said even as he stood from the stool to head to the living room with you.

 “Charlie Gillespie, I’d never do such a thing. I played with your hair and buttered you up so you could watch a MOVIE with me, not a show. There’s a difference,” you said giggling at the pout on his face.

 Your giggles turn to full on laughs as he scoops you up bridal style and alternates between littering your neck and face with kisses and blowing (very wet) raspberries wherever he could reach.

 “Charlie!” you yelled between laughs. “Stop! That tickles! And you’re gonna drop me!”

 “Say the magic word!” He yelled back, still not stopping his kisses and raspberries. 

 “Please!” You squirmed trying to get out of his grasp.

 “Wrong magic word!” He said as his range expanded to down your chest, up to your hair, and honestly anywhere his lips could reach.

 “How can there be a wrong magic word?! There’s only one universal magic word! You’re making up rules!” You laughed back at him, still squirming in his grasp.

 “I’ll give you a hint, it’s food related.” He replied to you through laughs, kisses, and raspberries.

 “Umm...” you said, still distracted by his mouth “peanut butter, whipped cream, ice cream, nachos, waffles, burgers?” Honestly, you were just listing his favorite foods and hoping one was right.

 “Ding ding ding ding ding! You got it! The correct answer was waffles!” he yelled dramatically in a TV show host voice.

 His mouth finally stopped roaming your body, but he didn’t set you down. Instead, he carries all the way to the living room (stopping at the light switch so you could flick it off) before setting you down on the couch. He let you sit up against the arm of the couch before you reached your arms out for him, his invitation to join you. He grabs the remote off the table and hands it to you before he settles between your legs. You click a button on the remote to wake up the TV about to start scrolling through for a movie. You kiss the top of his head, which in turn causes him to turn his head toward you as a way of asking for a proper kiss. You oblige him (more than once, maybe more than twice. Let’s just say you had you to wake the TV up again when you guys finally refocused on choosing a movie). You both finally settle back into a comfortable position before discussing what movie you were going to watch.

 As Charlie went on about a scary movie trying to convince you that it was a great idea to watch it (at night, you don’t think so) you once again felt that surge of overwhelming love and adoration for him. Whenever that happened it always felt like your heart soared, your mind cleared, and all you could feel was joy and a love that couldn’t be put into words. A love unmatched by any you thought you had felt in the past. And as you gave in and clicked the scary movie Charlie was raving about, you hoped that feeling lasted until the end of time and then some.

[awesomerextyphoon]

Slit Reflection

This is my entry for @jtargaryen18​​’s Haunted House 2020 Challenge. Mine was Sam Wilson. Credit for dividers goes to @firefly-graphics​. Check them out!

Summary: You’ve always loved Halloween, especially the haunted house at the edge of the woods. So happens when the ‘Star Spangled Trio’ enters the mix?

Pairing: Demon King!Sam Wilson x  Black!Reader (Fem)

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 3,054

Warning: Kidnapping, Forced Marriage, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Stalking, Breeding Kink, Mentions of Torture, and Non-Con/Dub-Con Smut. You have been warned.

Back to Masterlist

You’ve always loved Halloween. It was your birthday and the haunted house at the edge of the woods gave the best spooks and thrills. It was your first Halloween after undergrad and this year was different.

The Star Spangled Trio were celebrity guests and they were bringing two of the old rooms back!

It took you six days to get a ticket. You tried getting one online, every shop in town, but got nothing.

Finally, a new face at the library took pity on you and gave you the last ticket along with a book on demon folklore. You thanked the new librarian and rushed out of the building. Had you looked back you would’ve noticed a smirk on their face and their sclera and pupils turning black and gold respectively.

Halloween—the day of your birth—was here, and it was shit. Your toothbrush broke, your car refused to start, the job that you desperately wanted was dashed by yet another rejection email, and both your student loan and rent checks bounced. You just need to get through today.

You missed the cutoff, but got in because the person working the line was a family friend. Anxiously, you wait in line wondering how the haunted house in your small ass town managed to nab the Star Spangled Trio when you noticed the excited expressions of the people leaving. Now you’re super anxious.

By the time you entered the haunted house, you’re doing the breathing exercises to calm yourself. This was it! You were finally going to meet your all time heroes (and possible spank bank entries)!

The first few rooms were your typical haunted house fare which you loved, but were secondary to your excitement in seeing your heroes. Maybe you could get an autograph and hug from them!

You were about to follow the person in front of you into the haunted house’s hospital room when you noticed a light flickering to your left. It revealed a door done in the Neo-classical design with some Latin text engraved in the middle (had you studied Latin , you would’ve known that the text read “Reveal yourself, my beloved”).

Opening the door, you saw that it lead to the Hall of Mirrors. This part of the haunted house was always a favorite of yours, but both the itinerary and the ticket worker said that it was closed this year. The hall itself was chillingly quite and pristine as if no one else had stepped foot inside this season.

All of the mirrors looked standard for the haunted house; some of them made you laugh or briefly catch your breath. The one at the end of the hall caught you off-guard. It was at least 12ft (about 3.66m) high with intricate carvings of characters out of dark folklore and a single diagonal slit.

You were about to turn away when you saw nothing thinking it was a small haunted house joke at your expense when the mirror flashed.

In your place was the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen, but it still looked like you..sort of. Your hair was long, luxurious and gently flowing. Your eyebrows, eyelashes, and nails were immaculate. Your nose was adorably broad and your lips were sensually full (the type of full women would shell hundred’s if not thousands of dollars for). You wore a diadem with thick gold chains ladened with diamonds, onyx, and rubies and around your neck was a ruby and onyx amulet. You were dressed in a loose, yet sleeveless form-fitting Vivaldi red gown with hints of fiery red and a thin rosewood colored shoulder veil connected to the dress by a ruby broach in the middle of your cleavage.

You looked about four or five inches taller and the mirror version of you made you feel nervous about your curves being out on display.

Curious, you reached out to touch the mirror. Your hand was less than a centimeter away when your mirrored self opened it eyes. Suddenly, it grew curved horns and its eyes glowed pale gold.

The mirrored version of you grabbed your outstretched arm and dragged you through the mirror all while you screamed hoping someone would come to your rescue, but to no avail.

Samael, or ‘Sam’ was notified of your departure and the trio had to excuse themselves from the festivities to congratulate Sam on finding his bride.

You woke up with a start and shout clawing the air but stopped once you realized that you weren’t falling anymore. Instead, you were in a huge, opulent room filled with treasures that not even Windsor Castle had. Curiosity seemed to have taken hold of you because you walked out onto the connecting balcony to find that you were on a different planet/dimension/realm, whatever!

There were floating landmasses (the smallest of which was the size of your small town) and five planets ranging from Moonbow Gold to Venetian Red in color.

You thought about where the fuck you were and how you could get back home when a voice interrupted your thoughts.

The source of the voice was a demon with Antique Ruby skin with reddish gray undertones and Cinnabar and Rosewood colored hair. She had two short outward curved horns with a gold chain and aquamarine teardrop connecting them. Her eyes were an inviting aqua blue eyes with a dark red sclera.

“Hello! My name is Scheherazade, but you can call me Sherry. I’m your Lady in Waiting. I’ve brought some food.” Sherry offered as she set the tray of food on a small table next to a dresser.

You smiled cautiously at your new elevated handmaiden,”Do you know why I’m-”

“Oh, I almost forgot! We need to get you ready for your presentation!”

The Fuck?!

“What do you mean ‘presentation’?,” you asked as nicely as possible, but reality came out more like a demand.  

Sherry stopped her ministrations and faced you,”Well, when the monarch, crown prince, or princess declares their mate, they are presented to the royal court,” she then returned to her task of finding a suitable dress for you not catching the mortified expression on your face.

This day can’t get any worse. Wait?

“What time is it?”

“Oh, yes, It’s pretty much always night here. The sun only comes out for three hours. Would you look at the time! Everyone’s waiting!”

“One last question,” you started as Sherry began dressing you,”Who am I marrying?”

“Why my second cousin, King Samael, one of the Three Demon Kings,  of course!”

You fought the impulse to faint.

It took thirty minutes for Sherry to make you look unrecognizable. Thankful for her assistance, you followed the floating torches to the throne room. The throne room was an enormous room with high wide vaulted arches, delicately carved pillars and columns, and a small bridge connecting the ground at the door to the center. The court comprised of beautiful yet fearsome demons of all shapes and sizes.

The king himself was seated on a grand, ornate throne atop a huge dais with at least 25 steps. He seemed familiar.

As soon as you were passed the threshold, the king raised his head and everyone stopped talking and cleared a path for you. Several courtiers whispered as you striddled towards the dais. When you finally reached the dais, the king got off his throne and walked down the steps to greet you.

You almost face-palmed. The king was Sam Wilson! Or at least, looked like him.  

Sam for his part was devastatingly handsome. He had a tall, powerful build, broad shoulders, bulging biceps, muscular thighs, short well-kept hair and beard with surprisingly kind eyes.  

“You’re even more beautiful than I imagined,” Sam uttered as he pulled you in for a hug. You could’ve sworn he sniffed your hair, but you didn’t want to go into that right now.

“Everyone!” The court turned to the throne,” Thank you for coming. I have finally found my bride. We will be married tomorrow night!” Sam exclaimed to thunderous cheers and applause. He slipped on a magnificent ruby and diamond engagement ring with a black gold band.

You could not believe this, “I can’t-,” you started, but Sam discreetly grabbed your wrist, “Pre-wedding jitters,” and led you to a side room.

You expected him to hit or yell at you like so many other royals in a similar setting, but instead he gave a sad smile and asked if you were truly happy in your old life. You thought about your crushing debt, little to no job prospects, both parents dead, no friends and you had to admit your life did suck, but he didn’t get to decide.

Disappointed, Sam casted a small compliance spell and pulled you in for a kiss. Your pupils blew out in lust and you lost yourself. When he finally decided to break for air, Sam stated that you will be his bride and he will not be denied any longer. You smiled and gave him a short but passionate kiss. He moaned but had to end it before he went too far.

Tomorrow night he promised himself.

He quickly called for Sherry to return you  to your quarters.

Sherry woke you up the next ‘morning’ with a small army of beauty experts and maids.

“Rise and shine, Your Grace! We’ve got a bride to present!” Sherry proclaimed.

Damn it! It wasn’t a nightmare.

They managed to stuff you into a marvel of a wedding dress. It was a Torch Red long-sleeved mermaid wedding dress with soft yet detailed lace work made to look like an enchanted forest, diamond, dark ruby and pearl beads, and a floor length train. On your head was a black gold spiked sunburst goddess with deep ruby roses and a simple ruby teardrop chain that rested on your forehead, the ends of which were wrapped around your horns.

“Not even Lilith could compare, Your Grace!” Sherry gushed at her handiwork.

The wedding procession and ceremony was done in a swift fashion as Sam didn’t want to wait much longer. The vows were short as well. You wanted to object, call for help, anything but a voice in the back of your mind beat you to it.  

A couple hours into the wedding festivities, Sam announced that it was time for he and his new queen to retire and led you to his quarters. It’s the fanciest suite you’ve ever seen dripping with luxurious reds, violets, and obsidian.

In all your awing of Sam’s quarters, you failed to notice him approaching you in only a simple loose shirt and trousers. He gently put his hands on your exposed shoulders,”Alone at last, my love.”

You recoiled, “Can’t we wait for a few days? It’s just…” you trailed off as soon as his jovial expression vanished replaced with something darker and hungrier.

“I’ve waited for so long to have you here with me, love,”  Sam confessed while you moved towards the exit,”and I will not be denied any longer!”

In an instant, Sam pulled you in for a demanding kiss. He pushed his tongue past your lips moaning when your tongue tepidly danced with his own and from the sweet taste of your mouth. He pushed you onto a bed that had to three times the size of a California King and his lips moved jaw and neck, egged on by needy whimpers and moans.

He took his time ripping off your gown, enjoying the view like a child on Christmas, ”Fuck, you’re so beautiful. Utter perfection,” Sam murmured as he watched your breasts bounced free. He alternated between sucking and pinching your nipples with his hands and mouth,”I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he whispered in your left ear and he continued to play with your breasts like a concert-level musician. All the while moaned and cried out feeling pleasure you never thought possible.

Once satisfied with his handiwork with your chest, Sam’s hands roamed over your stomach and hips followed by strategically placed butterfly kisses that made you squirm. He tore off the last of your wedding gown causing you to hiss at the sudden sensation of cold air touching your pussy.

You used your last bit of willpower to plead, “Please stop! I’ve never-,” Sam stopped and raised his head to look at you.

“I know, love. I’ll be your first and only,” and with that, he gives your folds one long, slow lick and growled at your sweet and tangy taste, “I’ve wondered how you’d taste. You’re even better than the best Kharian wine. I could get used to this.”

He dove back in and played your pussy for all it was worth. His tongue worked its magic stroking and circling your clit sending you higher and higher into euphoria. Sam kept you right on the edge of an orgasm, just enough to beg for release.

“Say you’re mine!,” you mewled in response, to blissed out to use words. “Say it or I’ll leave!”

“Please let me cum, My King!” you cried out when he thrusted two fingers into your pussy.

“That’s a good girl. Now,”Sam started as he vigorously rubbed your pussy,”cum for me, love.”

Your orgasm came like a tsunami and Sam made sure finish his feast.

You got out of your post-oral haze to see Sam looming over in all his naked glory. His body must’ve been made by the gods because it was divine. His frame was an ode to sexiness wrapped in sinful warm sepia skin.

Sam caught you biting your lower lip and cocked his head, “Like what you see?”

Damn that cocky bastard, but damn if he wasn’t right. Part of you wanted to fuck his brains out…and that was before you saw his cock. Standing proud and erect with angry veins, his cock had to be the biggest you’ve ever seen (not like you had much exposure, just a few pornos).

Sam crawled up to you, lifted your chin and gave a soft kiss on the lips sensing your unease, “Relax, love,” He then lined his cock to your entrance and slid in as gently as he could.

You hissed from the pain, he was just so damn big. Sam praised you on how well you fit around him like ‘you were made for him’. Once the pain subsided, you bucked your hips into his causing him to moan at the sensation. He smiled at your eagerness and picked up the pace, making his thrusts come out to just the tip was in you and slamming back into you. You cried out his name each time he filled you to the hilt, pleading with him to go faster. Soon he reached your G-Spot causing to orgasm again, this time with you crossing your eyes and coming with a squirt.

Not too long after your second orgasm, Sam came with an otherworldly roar and glowing bright gold eyes shooting rope after rope of thick cum into your womb. He then flipped you onto your stomach and forced you onto your hands and knees so that he could take you from behind.

He got ten orgasms from you, each one more mind-blowing than the last. Once he was satisfied, he let you sleep.

“Soon you will be round with my seed, and we will have many children. I can’t wait.”

Ah hour after you closed your eyes, Sam left his, now yours, quarters. “Make sure she doesn’t leave,” he orders the guards although, he’s confident that she’s not going anywhere with the way he hammered her.

He strode down the corridors until he reached the dungeon. There, he found a rather nice looking apartment-style cell with only one prisoner, your mother.

“I’ve taken your daughter. Do you want to see her before you go?”

You see, Samael, Mikael (Bucky), and Stelios (Steve) were demon warlords who began conquering kingdoms left and right 1200yrs ago. They fought their way to the last free kingdom, Kharan. By the time your grandparents were brought before them, they had killed your uncle, the heir to the throne. The king and queen begged for their lives and the kingdom to be spared.

The trio agreed on one condition: if the next child the queen bears is a girl, then she would be Sam’s mate (Mikael and Stelios already had mates).

The king reluctantly agreed. The queen gave birth four months later to a girl, but she was in demon form. The queen had two of her most trusted attendants spirit the child away to another realm and raised her as their own.

Sam had your grandparents slaughtered and razed Kharan to the ground for their trickery. No matter, he was immortal. He would bide his time.

Eventually, your mother was told about her true parentage and form. She learned to control her powers, found love and she too was with child.

Sam found her a week before she went into labor and said that it was time to collect. She promised you in her stead immediately in hopes that it would buy her some time.

It did. She was able to pass you, a cambion, off to a friend of hers who wanted a child but couldn’t conceive and gave Sam a fake baby. He had your mother thrown into the dungeons.

Sam searched for you, but discovered that your mother put a cloaking spell on you. So, he approached your mother with a deal: her freedom for you becoming his mate.

It took your mother three years of torture for her to say yes.

Once the spell was lifted, Sam went to work. He made sure your adopted parents had a little ‘accident’ when you were old enough to take care of yourself, made sure that no one would want to hire you, and saddled you with debt. He even got Mikael and Stelios to pose as ‘The Star Spangled Trio’ with him to finally get you to the Hall of Mirrors.

Your mother bowed her head in shame, “No. It’s best for her to believe that I don’t exist.”

Sam unlocked the cell door with a simple spell, “You’re free to go. Have a nice life,” and returned to his quarters to be with his mate and queen.

Your mother took one last look at the palace,”I’m sorry, my little moon and stars,” and disappeared into the night.

Taglist: @jtargaryen18​ @threeminutesoflife​​ @giorno-plays-piano​ @lookiamtrying​ @sherrybaby14​ @opheliadawnwalker3​ @life-of-yn​ @mcudarklibrary​ @marvelfansworld​ @imdarkinme​ @sapphirescrolls​ @samingtonwilson​ @chris-evans-indian-fanfic​ @pseudonymphet​ @dahkness​ @saiyanprincessswanie​ @golden-ariess​ @chixkencxrry​ @anyatheladyclown​ @stargazingfangirl18​ @saint-bvcky​ @cherienymphe​ @iguessweallcrazyithinktho​ @cockslut-padalecki​

[randomvarious]

Big Sandy and His Fly-Rite Boys - “Jake’s Barber Shop” Pushing the Norton: The Ace Cafe Compilation Song released in 1993. Compilation released in 1994. Rockabilly Revival / Swing Revival

Folks, we're once again going back to the 90s, and now that we're back in the 90s, we're actually going back to the 50s. Zoomers probably don't know about this, but remember when Americans in the 90s pined hard for those swingin' 50s? That was kinda weird, right? Swing revival became kind of a big thing thanks to bands like Big Bad Voodoo Daddy, the Cherry Poppin' Daddies, and the Brian Setzer Orchestra, the movie Swingers was pretty popular, Chandler Bing was wearing fashionable bowling shirts, Grease was re-released in theaters, Nick at Nite was kicking off its programming block with Happy Days...there was just a steady current of 50s mania going on. I can't really say for certain what drove it (a return to conservatism by way of Newt Gingrich's Contract for America maybe had something to do with it?), but it was definitely there. Some segment of society just really seemed to want to go back to times that they remembered as being much "simpler" and more idyllic, but we all know that they really weren't all that simple or ideal.

But that 50s music revival scene that started to really come about in the early 90s didn't just pop up out of nowhere. It was actually driven by an 80s neo-rockabilly scene, which was led by a band called the Stray Cats, who were fronted by the above-mentioned Brian Setzer, and who put out an enormous hit in 1981 called "Rock This Town." And that neo-rockabilly scene doesn't get remembered all that much, but just like there were metal dudes in the 80s who wore denim jackets with cutoff sleeves, there were also rockabilly cats in the 80s who ran grease through their pompadoured haircuts and made sure to have a toothpick jutting out of their maws at virtually all times while rocking black leather jackets over plain white tees and blue jeans.

Such was the case of Jake Bricks, a young twenty-something who came to own a barbershop in Orange County, California in the early 90s. Bricks, who was a rockabilly throughout the 80s, was not someone who ended up merely treating it as a phase like most other 80s rockabillies did. Instead, despite having not been alive at any point during the 1950s, Bricks doubled himself all the way down. He applied his adopted rockabilly way of life to his own business, choosing to only give rockabilly haircuts to men for 8 bucks a pop, only allowing the sounds of rockabilly, western swing, and the like to emanate from his jukebox's speakers, and adorning the walls with 50s imagery, like posters of pinup girls. And he ended up carving out a nice, little niche for himself, with a steady, local clientele as well as rockabillies from all around the world who'd heard about his little shop.

And, as you probably could've guessed by now, there was even a song that was made about that barbershop. Lest you think the swing and rockabilly revival band of Big Sandy and His Fly-Rite Boys were waxing nostalgic about some rockabilly barbershop from the 50s, they weren't. Interestingly enough, this band that wanted to musically revive the 50s was singing about a guy who wanted to revive 50s mens' hairstyles, and they were from the OC area, too. 

I think what I find most striking about this swing and rockabilly revival era is that with that pining for a "simpler" time also came what seemed to be a pining for just simpler music. And along with that want for simplicity was also just a desire for music that was happy, too. You really couldn't make a song about a guy who dances to his favorite records while cutting peoples' hair in any other genre in the 90s but this one. And it might be a little reductive to say the following, but with things like grunge and gangsta rap doing a lot of dominating in the early 90s, it would make sense that some gen Xers would feel alienated by that stuff and choose to go off and do their own thing. And it wasn't a total cause-and-effect thing; the rockabilly and swing revival stuff started before the early 90s, but its rapid growth in popularity may have been driven by people who'd grown disillusioned by the MTV and radio that they'd once grown up on. Just a thought there.

I don’t really like the 90s rockabilly and swing revival stuff that much, but I still find the whole thing pretty fascinating.

[sanjee-chan]

Wayne forced himself to get out of bed to grab a cup of coffee. He had been up all night playing a farm RPG and he wasn't planning on sleeping anytime soon. Walking into the common kitchen, he found two figures hunched over on top of the dining table with their backs turned to him. He narrowed his eyes at them, before ultimately noticing his 'I Love Metrocity' - er, Metro City - mug on the edge of the table. He walked up to place a hand on the empty-

“AH! I died again! Roxanne threw a hand up into her hair, falling back on Wayne behind her with a soft thump."Ugh, this game is so frustrating..."

“Roxie? What are you playing?" Wayne asked, slightly confused at her outburst. "How long have you been at this?"

"Metroidvania platformer. Since last night."

"And him?" Wayne points at a happy but jittery looking Megamind.

"I don't know but he's having more fun than me.”

"COWER BEFORE THE CLAWS, RABBITS! MWAHAHAHA!"

for @zeus-a-mighty

they asked for some post canon hcs. I had so many ideas leading up to this. Sadly, only had time to make one. This was originally going to be a short story of about a thousand or so words but I don't know how many of yall would like plot and dialogue based off game discourse XDDD So I cut out of all of it and made a little drabble. Welp, hope yall like it! Thanks to @elf-kid2 for hosting this event! I hope we can have more of these for the fandom > w < Reasons to why I chose the games and consoles for them under the cut (plus one other tiny hc)

Wayne - Gameboy - Harvest Moon: Friends of Mineral Town - I LOVED THIS GAME AS A KID. Still do, honestly. It's a little pixel game where you play as a farmer and you get to choose between different boys to marry (or not and you can make all of them go celibate lmao). I also played the version where you can marry girls. But I picked this version coz in this one, you play as a girl and one of my standing hcs is that Wayne is trans and gay represent OmO I also picked the gameboy because, I think, Wayne loves classics. (He is literally an Elvis Presley fan, you can't tell me he doesn't like old school good stuff)

Roxanne - Laptop - Hollow Knight - I think Roxanne wouldn't be one to buy a separate console for videogames, I'll leave that up to Megamind and Metroman. She'll probably think about practicality and how PC gaming will be the forefront in the near future XD Choosing between two games for her was hard. I finished Cuphead fairly quickly by repeatedly throwing myself at the levels, Hollow Knight is a little bit harder if only because you have to walk around after every death and explore every single pixel of the map ;') But since she is a reporter she will love that and all the nuances of history in the game's lore. THE LORE (chef’s kiss)

Megamind - Cellphone - Kingdom: New Lands - I know I said that Megamind would probably have a console or two (maybe a switch or something) but I do believe he will be using his cellphone more. He'll whip it out whenever he gets bored of peaceful patrols. And OMG this game is such a mood for him. Basically, you get to customize a character (!genderfluid) who will then lead your kingdom into prosperity. Sort of. I think Megs will love the idea of playing 'overlord' in this game (but a good kind of overlord sooo XDD) Also his quote in the small drabble is supposed to refer to him killing rabbits in game with the 'Great Bear'. Honestly hard to explain, if you haven't played the game or any of its sister games. 

//And yes, in this post movie hc, they live together. friendship at its finest. metroman is forgiven, he is now music man. megamind is the new hero. And they all wear sleeve cutoffs because mhmm (if you also have ideas of what games/consoles best represent them, I’d LOVE to hear them) also don’t ask me why they look kinda young here XDD

sorry for this huge text ahhh

[sanstropfremir]

it’s the episode 8 review!!! how many episodes is this show supposed to even be?

the stages from the episode feel like such a grab bag.... i still don’t understand why they didn’t put all the skill stages together, and then did the normal two episodes of the third round. i guess it makes sense that they didn’t want to have six stages in one episode and then three in the other two, but eh. 

feeling kinda average on these as a whole, there’s a lot of good elements going on here but probably because of my own preferences (i don’t listen to ballads or blackpink) none of them really hit all the buttons. hopefully this will be a shorter review because i'm only going to do a quick rundown of the vocal stages; i dont really have that much to say about them because they are (intentionally) not very stage picture focused. i'll do the normal stage breakdowns for the other two though, even though i won’t rank them because we still need to see the other four!

vocal stages

sf9 + tbz + ikon

not much to say here other than wow, that’s RED. glad to see some more specific use of spotlighting and i always love when they light things on fire. i do wish they had fill lit with a brighter amber so we could actually get a bit more detail on their faces, especially because there’s six of them. i appreciated the simple blocking and only using one of the ‘stages,’ this stage didn’t need to be anything complicated and it wasn’t. i don’t love spinning camera shots because they make me a bit ill, and i'll forgive the constant cutting because it's a vocal stage and there isn’t any other real movement that we should be paying attention to. not my favourite of the two, i found it visually a bit too repetitive and complex at the same time. always love a crushed velvet suit though, so bonus points for that.

atz + skz + btob

i was braced for the worst and i dont know what kind of miracle happened but it was listenable! like i said, not a ballad fan but i could listen to eunkwang all day. i love a good plinth for a ballad stage, they’re one of my favourite devices in kpop design and i especially love it with a good groundlevel fog. glad they kept it black and white for the first half of the stage, it was in line with the blooming flower projections, and it made a very clear colour arc. they kept the visuals clean and simple with very little blocking at all, a very smart choice for this stage. not sure why they decided it would be the chanel time stage, which i disapprove of because i don’t like chanel, but i do love eunkwang’s shirt with the cameo buttons and the massive turnback cuffs, very 17th and also 19th century. i know they never do it because they dont read on stage normally but yes absolutely more thin chain pendant chokers on men, thank you! i also liked that there was emphasis on a more traditional lighting scheme, there weren't any crazy concert effects, just some good directional beam spotlights and the rear stacks in the climax. 

third round stages

ikon

costume

the first look for them is definitely my fabourite of theirs so far. there’s enough variation in the jackets that the base layer of tshirt and jeans don’t look too repetitive. and i do love a good statement jacket. my favourite is probably donghyuk’s because i'm a sucker for fringe always.

i don’t like the backup dancers costumes, but given the way i’ve reacted to every other all black outfit for this entire show i don’t think anyone was surprised about that. these ones particularly irk me because they’re very matte; there's pretty much no texture or pattern differentials to define the shape of the limb, which makes them disappear when theyre all grouped together (mostly on the women). i think they probably were intending to make a statement/emphasis on the hands because of the sleeve cutoff point, but there were so many arm movements that were just totally missed because the costumes were just black voids. most egregious parts are here, with the female dancers up center. i can barely tell what the movements are unless i’m paying specific attention to them because there's so many black shapes. maybe it was the point for it to be an indiscernable writhing mass, but it wasn’t my vibe.

don’t love this styling on lisa. i hate peeptoe shoes in general but peeptoe boots are the worst offenders. they make you look like you have duck feet, no matter who you are. especially with a flat cutout like that. a universally unflattering shoe, and i would know, i worked in a shoe store for two years. this whole look is just pg-13 rihanna cfda awards 2014 and really nobody should try to run up against rihanna.

also i have to mention this because it’s actually really bothering me, but lisa’s backup dancers are serving very allgemeine ss looks and i do not like it. generally when we see ‘military’ uniforms in kpop theyre usually modelled off older styles (pre wwii) of western uniforms that usually aren’t in circulation, and they’re usually non-matching and embellished in ways that are deliberately not military. i know logically that it's a budget constraint+they’re backup dancers+current trend thing but the clean lines with only button detailing and the all black and that specific harness shape? it hit my brain the wrong way. i mean, technically those uniforms are designer because hugo boss did them, but the uh..... girlboss move didn’t land for me.

this is my PERSONAL OPINION please for the love of all that is holy do not come yelling at me about this. it’s all under a cut, you chose to read the post.

set

very glad to see some busy kitschy sets! this is a massive build, since there’s essentially three full sets here: the temple, the jungle, and the first tiny room. and all of them are very heavily decorated. 

the starting room is just five walls on casters (wheels), that have been set into place with the cameraman and ikon inside at the start, and then once they exit the walls can be easily struck and rolled off set. simple, smart, and convenient!

i missed it the first couple times around but glitching out the projections in the temple for a split second was a neat little trick.

the silver and polygonal nature of the tiger/panther/cat(?) head is a bit disconnected from the gold and the aesthetic of the rest of the stage for me. the difference between the original room set and the jungle tracks, but the cat head isnt able to make the same leap for me. i'm also not a fan of mixing metals so maybe that’s why.

the tiger/panther/cat(?) head is a fun physical transitional device; i'm a big fan of tunnels and small transitory spaces like that and if they’re well dressed like this one they do so much for establishing place and mood.

i'm very sure i’ve seen this style of polygonal animal head with laser eyes before....i cannot for the life of me remember where or for what. i know wang yibo did a panther stage for sdc3 that had a human formation panther with green laser eyes, i wonder if i'm just crossing wires.

OH nevermind it’s because it looks like the witcher medallion. wires were definitely crossed.

lighting

using purple/teal lighting for the jungle was a smart choice because purple is the direct compliment to the gold and also is much more flattering on humans than green. green is one of the colours that humans can see the most variations in, so when something is green when it's not supposed to be (like human skin), we register that very quickly and associate it with unease and sickness. you know how old fluorescent lights have that greenish tinge that kinda makes you feel ill? it's your cone cells and your brain recognizing that you’re looking at things that are not supposed to be green.

very clean colour arc, i love to see it.

sound

it’s.....fine? i don’t listen to blackpink and have no opinions on their music other than it's not my type. i dont really know what the thematic connection to the visuals is, which is not strictly necessary in a lot of cases, but i don’t particularly care for the conflation of ‘savage’ and a (presumably) precolonial religion that’s assembled from stereotypes of real colonized cultures. you can come at me about how ‘it's not that deep’ all you want but i am here specifically doing an in depth analysis, and i gotta point it out. i'm not here to pass judgement on you if you didn’t realize or don’t care or whatever, i'm just saying that it's important to consume content with a critical eye. what you do with that information is your own personal choice, but you should be aware of it at least. 

staging

they took a big risk eating popcorn right before singing, and we definitely got some residual mouth noises of them trying to clean out their teeth. eating on stage is difficult in general because you have to make sure it's not going to dry out the performers mouths, because they dont have access to water and it takes WAY longer to chew and swallow something than you would expect. there’s a LOT of testing that goes into making stage food and guaranteed it’s not made out of what it looks like or what its supposed to be; i worked on a production of amadeus were we did literal weeks of testing amalgams of different desserts to make sure that salieri could actually eat the ones onstage without totally drying him out, because fun fact about that show, salieri doesnt leave stage like, at all, so there was no way to get him water. poor bloke.

i thought the blocking of this was really smart. the long take from the ‘normal’ room and transition into the jungle was super slick, even if that weird circle the camera did while pointed up at the ceiling was unnecessary and pointless.

bobby’s ‘acting’ was extremely funny and that’s the only way people are allowed to act surprised now. edvard munsch scream style only.

the pacing is a bit off and this time it wasn’t mnet’s editing that fucked it up. as fun as it is to have a feature, clearly she wasn’t allowed within proximity of the rest of them for covid or other yg related reasons, but it made for some extremely long transitions, especially the one out of her verse. it kills the momentum of the stage in that beat, even though they manage to pick it up after.

this is a very simple little narrative arc that’s easy to follow and doesn’t require any extra explaining. which is exactly the kind of arc that groups should be doing at this stage in the game. this is a good formic step up for ikon!

i thought the turning off of the monitor at the end was fun and a good callback to them watching the videos at the beginning of the stage. a nice clean way to make it circular.

skz

costume

FINALLY something different on the skz boys! these were mostly fun eboy looks for them, and i like it on the basis that it's not the same as the last set of costumes.

bang chan out there with his thigh OUT and a (fake) bridge piercing? LOVE to see it. great work.

(copy-paste every thing i’ve said about backup dancers wearing all black)

the backup dancers that were dressed as bystanders/extras were great! they should have kept that with all of them because it would have given a little more shape to the choreography and establishing what function the backup dancers were supposed to have.

set

that is meant to be a giant rice cooker on stage, right? i think so because it's a god’s menu mashup? if that's not a rice cooker i have NO idea what its supposed to be

there’s only two large setpieces here, which was a smart way to go. i LOVE the subway car doubling as the truck, even if the truck itself makes no narrative sense. what a fun way to double the use of a single big piece. you’ll be able to see the way it moves in the full cam but it splits down the centre and there entrance doors at the back with attached stairs that bang chan and the dancers use to climb up.

lighting

not a whole lot happening here. i like the cool white leds in the subway car and the contrast with the more warm tones of the outside, which is good atmospheric establishment, but i can't discern a visible arc. 

not a fan of these projections; they’re in line with what we’ve seen from skz so far, which is: extremely literal. i dont think they’re that distracting, but they’re not to my personal taste. they really should have kept the comic panel theme that they did for changbin’s first verse, because that was inventive and fun to watch! and a great atmospheric indicator! i would love to see a bit more experimental projection use but it's hard when they don’t have a lot of time to build these stages and the lighting team is definitely working remotely.

sound

i love that they made the choice to do some actual talking, it’s a good gimmick and it works for the deadpool/comic book/fourth wall break theme, but australian accents take me the fuck out i am so sorry i cannot listen to either felix or bang chan speak english without laughing uncontrollably. 

i don’t like this arrangement but i'm not surprised about that, given my predilections. i'm also tired of skz shouting STRAY KIDS in every performance they do. i know on music shows it's probably more relevant and yea producers tags are a thing but we’ve been watching this show for nearly two months at this point. we know who you are, you can stop yelling. be more creative with it!

staging

my biggest issue with this stage is that it doesn’t have a payoff. there is an arc here: they’re stealing the truck, but why are they stealing the truck? who are they stealing it from? who are they fighting against? it's kind of important in a stage where the theme is stealing and fighting someone that you tell us who that is. in both of ateez’s previous stages were they were both stealing (rhythm ta) and fighting (wonderland), they made sure to show us who the villain was. there needs to be tension for a big blowup climax to actually pay off. whether it be against a a balloon arm kraken or a fascist government. this stage could have reached that next step if they’d just done a little bit more exposition. 

there were a lot of fun choreo moments here, and this is probably my favourite choreo of theirs so far. i thought the whole first bit in the subway car was excellent and a very fun play on those viral videos that we used to see roll around every so often of dancers doing routines in subway cars.

did it need the guns? not in the slightest. more on this point later. i could talk more about weapons and weight here, but i’ve done that several times already.

like with the tbz game of thrones stages, theyre relying a little too much on the audience's preconceptions of the source material in order to carry the theme. the guns are there because deadpool likes guns, but they don’t actually use the guns for anything? the most we get of the stealing segment is felix and the safe, which admittedly is a great bit with him leaping over and under the ‘laser’ lines (theyre likely led strips). because comic books are by nature procedural and deeply tied to narrative, it's unsatisfying when there’s no tension and no payoff.

HOW did we manage to get two stages that are blackpink covers with remote/tv static gimmick and durags? i know the slot machine of kpop tropes is not very big but surely the probability of hitting triple sevens on this one was pretty low. i’m pretty meh on both of these stages overall. skz was unsatisfying but i loved the choreo in the subway bit so that bumped it up a little ahead of ikon’s in my personal preferences, but i'm reserving my actual rankings for next week. assuming we get the other four stages next week and they dont do something stupid and only show two. which they very well might. i’ve stopped trying to understand why mnet does things the way that they do. 

as always the ask box is open, drop your comments/questions/personal opinions, i love to hear ‘em! but don’t be rude just because some of this is touchier subject material.

[codynaomiswireart]

Gauze in the Wound - Part 23

“..Suddenly you lose your way and lose the thread Lose your cool then lose your head Every loss is harder to excuse Then you’ll see you’ll lose your way and lose your soul Till you lose complete control And realize there’s nothing left to lose Nothing left to lose…” ~ Nothing Left to Lose by Alan Menken and Glenn Slater

“Well, if I were ‘You Know Who,’ I’d want you to feel cutoff from everyone else. Because if it’s just you alone, you’re not as much of a threat.” ~ Luna Lovegood, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

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

Pontus slowed to a halt, setting the apple down gently on the ground beside him as he took a much-needed drink from the stream trickling before him. Raising his head to look up at the stars, the water dribbled down the stag’s chin, and the creature caught his breath as he listened for their guidance.

“…There,” he thought as he zeroed in on the location in his mind, took hold of the precious fruit again, and went bounding over the border into Corona’s thick woods.

“Just a little bit longer…” the stag thought as the trees whipped passed him.

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

“Just a little bit longer,” he thought to himself, pausing to peer up at the steep slope silhouetted against the night sky before him. He grinned, relishing the feeling of being back in a physical body. Though it wasn’t enough, of course. That’s why they were heading to this old, familiar location. He needed more, and here was where they would get it. They just had to open the veil a bit further, and his return would be complete.

“Do not worry, Puer Lunae,” the voice purred, feeling the form on the other end of the coil shiver in response. “This will all be over soon.” He adjusting the pack on his back, and continued his hike towards their destination, grinning as he threw the next jab with his words. “I promise…”

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

“Try again!” the Captain shouted, as several of the guards attempted to form a human ladder, and tried to hoist themselves over the jagged wall of black rocks. But the tall, steep, smooth sides of the rocks made the attempt difficult, and they only succeeded in one of the guards getting stuck between the crux of two rocks before being pulled back by his comrades, all of them falling in a clattering heap.

“Blast it!” the Captain yelled angrily, kicking a patch of dirt. “Is there any other way out of here?” “Sabine?” King Frederic asked urgently, the healer now seated on the stoop of her home, holding a bag of ice to her aching face. “Is there any way you can warp us out of here to another checkpoint? From there we could-”

But Sabine shook her head. “Alas your highness,” she replied sadly, “that last jump took up all the magic the house had charged up for that purpose. It’ll be another day at least before the house could get us to the next closest point, and I fear we may not have that kind of time. Given what just happened, I highly doubt that Varian intends to just kindly follow through on his end of the agreement.”

“Surely, there must be some way!” Arianna exclaimed as she sat down beside the healer, setting a comforting hand on the woman’s shoulder, but also in clear distress. By now, thanks to Sabine’s smelling salts, the queen had largely recovered from the influence of the sleeping draught, and along with the others was now brainstorming about how best to figure out an escape plan to stop Varian from…whatever it was he was planning.

Xavier, meanwhile, sat off to the side, his brain reeling from the last fifteen minutes as everyone carried on around him. Varian had turned on them. Varian had betrayed them. Xavier had tried to help, and he had failed; made things even worse than they already had been. He knew from the moment Varian’s eyes met his that all rationality in the boy was gone, and only malice, pride, and hatred were there now.

What was he supposed to do…?

At least…at least he’d been able to help Varian forge a sword that could cut the amber, he supposed. If nothing else, perhaps there was a chance Varian really was just going to get Quirin back. Xavier regretted not being able to be there for Varian, especially if…if the worst outcome were to be true upon breaking open his father’s golden prison. If Quirin…if he were dead, that may indeed push Varian clear over the edge, and Corona may truly face a threat they were unable to stand up to. But if Quirin were alive, maybe there could be some hope for Varian after all. Varian may be an exile now, but perhaps he could finally find some closure and move on in peace. And perhaps Quirin would still be with him, and he wouldn’t be alone. Maybe he could find a new start in another place at another time, even if Xavier wasn’t to be a part of it.

…But if Quirin wasn’t all right…? If somehow things went badly…?

Xavier sighed, setting his head in his hands. He tried to think up ways of escape as well, and he had this horrible feeling like Sabine that they may not have much time. But it was so hard to think of anything right now. The blacksmith shut his eyes, laying his face in his hands, and silently praying for an answer. Just something – anything – to help would be ever so welcome right now.

…And then-

Xavier froze, his ears catching the sound of a sharp, muffled cry coming from somewhere nearby. Turning his head this way and that, Xavier tried hard to pinpoint the location of the sound.

“What the…?” Xavier thought, his heart pounding as he realized the sound was coming from inside the safehouse. Cautiously, Xavier went back inside, ignoring the confused looks of Donovan and Hilda as he skirted by them on the veranda; the two Saporians doing their best to stay out of all the drama unfolding around them. As Xavier got closer to the first-floor corridor, the cries became louder and clearer. Then, in a flash of recognition, Xavier ran as quick as he could for the door to Varian’s room, and stopped short when he found it locked up tight.

He could hear Ruddiger crying on the other side!

“Ruddiger!” Xavier shouted, hearing the raccoon go silent. “Ruddiger, get away from the door!”

After waiting a couple seconds, Xavier began shoving all of his weight into the door, the hinges creaking and the doorframe splintering a little as he did so.

“What in the-? Xavier!” the Captain called, having heard the commotion and coming to investigate. “What in the world do you think you’re do-!?”

The Captain’s words were cutoff as the door fell inward from its hinges with a crash, and Xavier knelt down as Ruddiger dashed over into the blacksmith’s arms, the little creature shivering and whimpering.

“What’s going on?” Frederic asked as he too came up from behind. “Xavier, what are you-?”

“It’s Ruddiger,” Xavier replied, trying to calm the quivering, distressed animal. “He was locked in Varian’s room.”

“Varian left him behind?” Arianna asked, surprised sadness in her voice as she came up behind her husband. “Oh, the poor thing!”

“For goodness sake Xavier!” Sabine managed to snap as she wove her way to the front of the increasingly crowded hallway, still holding the cold pack to her eye. “You could’ve just asked me for a key you know-!”

But Xavier tuned Sabine and the others out as Ruddiger began chittering frantically to him, and tugging on his sleeve for him to pay attention. Xavier’s heart began to pound hard again as he followed the raccoon back into Varian’s room. As Ruddiger got to the center of the room, the little creature sat down on his haunches, and began waving his paws about, and pointing at the ground in front of him.

Xavier frowned. “What is it Ruddiger? What’s wrong?”

Ruddiger repeated the motions, trying so hard to communicate. By now, the others also noticed the raccoon’s gestures, and everyone stared at him, confused. With a snort, Ruddiger then climbed up onto the dresser, pointing at the blank wall above it. Again, confused looks only met him.

Until-

“The mirror!” Arianna yelped, here eyes widening. “The mirror! It’s gone!”

The Captain looked at Arianna quizzically. “What are you talking about your highness?”

“Don’t you see?” Arianna said. “The outline bleeched on the wall by sunlight? A mirror used to be here! Sabine!” Arianna now turned to the healer. “Did you by chance do anything to the mirror in my room earlier this evening?”

“Certainly not!” Sabine replied. “Why do you ask?”

“Because earlier this evening a strange pattern was drawn in white on the mirror in my room. I would’ve asked you about it, but then…Well…”

Sabine blinked at Arianna with her one good eye, realization beginning to dawn upon her face. In a hurry, Sabine crossed the hallway to Arianna’s room and looked inside, pausing just in time before she stepped on the shards of reflective glass that covered the floor. Arianna’s mirror was shattered.

She had seen this magic before!

“Oh no…” Sabine whispered under her breath, and dashed towards the end of the hallway, dropping her cold pack as she went.

“What’s wrong Sabine?” Frederic asked as the healer pushed passed him. “What is-?” “Varian is here!” Sabine cried, reaching for a ring dangling down from a chord hanging from the ceiling. “Quick, Captain! If you could help me please!”

“Er, yes. Of course,” the Captain complied, though still clearly confused as a sturdy wooden ladder slid down from the opening to the attic, and Sabine scrambled up it and into the darkness beyond.

“Hurry!” Sabine called to him again over her shoulder, tossing aside an old tarp from a large, verticle mirror. Sabina grunted with exertion as she scooted it across the attic floor. “Help me get this to Varian’s room!”

“But, why?” the Captain asked, though continuing to do as Sabine asked as he helped lift one end.

“Varian is here!” Sabine repeated as they moved down the ladder. “Well, in a sort of way. But he may not be for much longer! We have to move fast!”

“What do you mean, Sabine?” Arianna asked, as she, Frederic, and Xavier all moved to help get the mirror over into the room. “We all saw Varian leave-”

“If my hunch is correct,” Sabine interrupted, directing them to set the mirror down at the far end of the room, “that wasn’t actually Varian that we saw.”

Frederic raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean by that Sabine? Who else could it have been?”

“Not who, your majesty,” Sabine said ominously. “But what.”

As everyone only stared at her in response, Sabine instructed them all to stand with her at the other end of the room, well away from the tall mirror. As Xavier felt Ruddiger scurry up his form and cling tightly to his shoulders, Sabine stretched a hand forward towards the mirror, and chanted another spell.

“Speculum speculum, alium se orbem terrarium ad ianuam, aperi!”

For a moment, various colors rippled across the mirror’s surface, and the reflection of the room in which they stood became distorted. Then, once it had settled down again, everyone stared at the dark reflection of the room that now greeted them…and gasped as they also saw something else there that shouldn’t have been.

“Varian!” Xavier cried, as he saw the boy laying in the center of the floor of the dark reflection, his face buried in his arms, glowing green vines coiled round his wrists and ankles like chains, and the tendrils extending back into the shape of a second mirror (the mirror that had been missing from Varian’s room in fact) that glowed ominously with the same eerie light. Varian didn’t appear to have heard Xavier, nor take any notice of the new gateway that had formed nearby him.

Xavier wasn’t sure if this was because Varian was asleep…or maybe dead.

“No no no, stop!” Sabine yelped, holding everyone back with outstretched arms as several of them made to move forward. “Everyone, keep away from the mirror!”

“What on earth is going on Sabine?” Xavier asked, feeling Ruddiger grip his shoulders even tighter as the creature let out a frightened trill. “What are we looking at? Is that really-?”

Sabine nodded. “I’m afraid so. Varian – the real Varian – has been trapped inside the world of the mirror.” “Trapped?” Arianna gasped. “In the mirror? But how?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” said Sabine. “But I can tell you this. Whoever or whatever has trapped Varian in there has replaced him with a shadow double; an evil doppelgänger created via his reflection in the dark mirror. I have seen this kind of magic once before, and it is a very evil thing to conjure. I suspect that the dark magic Pontus had sensed in Varian before has something to do with it. It’s also clear to me that this interloper somehow arranged to have all of the other sizable mirrors in the house shattered so we couldn’t access it ourselves, should we have figured out this trick. I’ll admit, it was well disguised; making it look like the mirrors shattered due to the magic of the house going haywire, as opposed to deliberately placed destruction circles. Fortunately, her majesty noticed the destruction circle drawn on her own mirror beforehand, which all but confirms this theory to me.” “Well thank goodness we still have this mirror,” Arianna said. “Then what are we waiting for?” the Captain asked, making another move as if to approach the mirror. “Let’s get him out!”

“Careful!” Sabine warned again, blocking the Captain’s way. “If you get too close to the mirror, your own reflection will spaun another evil doppelgänger. And we don’t want to have to face any more foes than we need to.” “So, what do we do?” Arianna asked. “How can we get him out without getting close?” “I’m not sure,” Sabine replied, now rubbing her forehead, hard in thought. “The only way I know of to breach the barrier is to swap places with your doppelgänger, but if we tried that- And with Varian’s own double now far away, he couldn’t even- Oh, kettles and cobblestones! Think Sabine! Think! There must be some way-!”

It was at this moment that Xavier noticed a crucial detail as he looked into the mirror again. While everyone’s reflections showed dimly in it (though not strong enough to spaun any evil twins)…there was one whose reflection was missing. Xavier had to look on his shoulder to make sure Ruddiger was indeed still there, as the creature’s reflection was somehow absent from the dark mirror. Xavier then had a wild, crazy, but not totally unfounded idea form in his mind. If Ruddiger could sense and hear Varian from beyond their world, and if his own reflection wasn’t present in the mirror, and if he’d been able to traverse such planes of existence not long before and bring Varian back…? “Hold on tight to me,” Xavier whispered to Ruddiger, and took a step forward. “Xavier!?” Sabine cried as the man suddenly strode by her, and she reached out to grab onto him. But as her hands closed before her, they closed not on the fibers of Xavier’s clothes, but around the wood of his walking stick as he held it out towards her. “What’re y-?” “Hold my cane,” Xavier said sternly, and then unfalteringly walked right up to the cursed mirror, and reached forward.

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

…He had been such an idiot…

Varian sniffed, curling in on himself tighter. Everything hurt. His head, his stomach, his eyes, his throat, his pride, his heart…Everything hurt. He was thirsty, but of course there was no water here. He would’ve been hungry too, if despair hadn’t engulfed his hunger pains with a pain all its own. He’d taken the devil’s poison, and it left him empty.

Varian thought he’d hit rock bottom before when he’d been down in the dungeons that night after his trial. Little did he know then. No, this was truly rock bottom now. He thought he felt helpless before? No, this was true helplessness. He was down a deep, dark hole now, with no way out…and he only had himself to blame.

Varian shuddered as he remembered it all. He remembered how quick he had been to trust the man who looked so much like his father, and who promised him a way to go back. To be fair, the man had shared with him theories and equations that made it all sound entirely possible. All they would have to do was harness the power of the Moon Drop in Varian, channel it under certain conditions, and they could cut a rift into time and space itself – make all that had caused Varian so much grief go away. Start over. Stop all disaster from ever happening, and all would be well again. All would be normal again. All would be happy again. “I dunno…” Varian had said, seated next to those rosy flames. “What…what would happen if we did that? I mean, what if we-? Could we…could we really go back and change things?” “But of course!” the man had said, having a helping of food and drink himself, then passing some over to Varian. “Why else would I be here in the first place, if not for a rift in time and space? Or don’t tell me you believe in ghosts. And you understand the physics, right? Is it not sound?” “I’ll admit that it’s theoretically possible,” Varian had said, slowly but surely picking up the vial handed to him. As his thoughts churned on the subject at hand, and under the gaze of such familiar features, Varian hardly thought about what he had been doing as he began to raise the vial to his lips. “But…that’s only if this…magic…does what you say it will. I mean, there’s no force on Earth that could have those kinds of effects without catastrophic consequences resulting from it.” “True,” the man had said, then gave Varian a smile that he supposed, in retrospect, was meant to give Varian that final jab of pride to throw all caution to the wind. “…But, then again, the Moon Stone is not of this Earth, is it? And you are the one who can wield it. If you’ll let me show you how…”

That was when Varian began to feel his inhibitions about the situation melt away. This was everything he had ever wanted. Or, at least, on the cusp of everything he wanted. It was the next closest thing to his father telling him that he was proud of him, and it was offering him a way out of everything. “Well, cheers to that idea!” Varian had thought, finally downing the first sip of what had been handed to him.

…Little did he realize what exactly had been handed to him, and by whom.

Varian knew he had begun to feel awful soon afterward. Those constant pains in his head and his gut – he had wanted to chalk it all up to the residual effects of his assertions during the battle with the Saporians. But no. While all that had certainly hurt him, these pains were something else in their own right, and had a different source spurring them on.

Too bad he had realized the truth too late.

Fear, anger, pride – all three could be awful drugs. They blurred one’s rationality, made you do things you would regret in your sober hours, and yet demand to be fed all the same. Somehow, despite knowing this deep down, you comply anyway. It feels good at first, Varian knew. It was a relief in a way. He would feel justified. Perhaps even a bit noble. Perhaps a bit cleansed as he felt at liberty to vent all the ugliness piling up in his soul on those he targeted with the blame. But once the rush was over, that dull ache would come back again, and he was left asking himself, again and again, “What have I done…? Why did I do that…? Why did I say that…?” What a fool he had been! Varian felt a fresh pang of shame as he thought about how he allowed that Shade to instruct him on making preparations, and drawing the circles on the mirrors. In one sense, the man hadn’t lied. He had told Varian that all this would allow him to cast a spell that would allow him to become more manifest, and thus be of more use when they arrived in Corona.

But despite the words not being exactly false, they were still meant to deceive.

Varian remembered the terror and confusion he had felt when he had reached forward to draw on his own mirror with the enchanted chalk (taken from Sabine’s own supplies of course), and found his own reflection grabbing him before he could even make the first mark. Varian would’ve cried out, but before he could do anything, he was pulled through the looking glass, and lay stunned as he looked up at the likeness to himself, sneering down at him with red, glowing eyes.

“Aaah!” Varian had cried, shuffling back away from the horrible apparition. Then, he felt himself bump up against another form at his back. “Oh, thank goodness!” he thought in momentary relief.

“D-Demanitus!” Varian exclaimed, scrambling to his feet, and then hiding partially behind the man’s form, still looking in terror at the thing standing before him. “Wh-what is that!? What did I-? I-I don’t understa-!” But Varian stopped, his voice dying in his throat. He staggered back, wide-eyed and pale, as he stared up at the face that looked down at him. The man – Demanitus – no longer wore a face like his father’s. The mask had now dropped. In its place, was the face of a demon.

In a flash, the demon shape lunged itself at the other Varian, appearing for a moment to be a shooting cloud of dark mist. As the mist collided into the false-Varian, Varian watched in horror as the creature twisted, writhed, and groaned as parasite merged with its host. Varian could only stand there, staring, heart pounding, and breath rapid. What was happening? “Rrraah,” the creature eventually moaned, stretching twitching limbs, and cracking the stiffness in its neck and wrists. Worst of all, as it began to speak, Varian heard it talk in his own voice. “Mmm…Yes, yes! Not ideal, clearly. But it’ll do. For now.” As the creature then turned to look at Varian, grinning wickedly, Varian felt a shock of horror surge through him. In a panic, Varian made a desperate rush for the mirror through which he’d been pulled into this place. The next thing Varian knew, he was sent flying flat onto his back, stunned. He’d crashed headlong into the mirror’s surface, and it did not give way.

“No…” Varian breathed, and sprang back up, shoving and pouding and scratching desperately at the mirror’s surface, but it would not yield. “NO! NO NO! L-LET ME OUT!” Varian screamed. “LET ME OUT! RUDDIGER! XAVIER! ANYONE! PLEASE! HELP ME!” “It’s too late, Puer Lunae.” Varian whirled round, coming face-to-face with the monster – his dark reflection. It then grabbed him by the front of his shirt, lifting him off the ground with inhuman strength. Varian tried to get it to let go of him, but it was no use. The monster then threw Varian across the dark room, slamming him into the opposite wall.

Varian lay there a moment, struggling to breathe after the air had been knocked out of him. As he tried to rise, Varian felt himself shoved back down by a heel between his shoulderblades, pinning him to the ground.

“Ah ah ah, not so fast,” the voice tutted him from above. “You wouldn’t want to hurt yourself more before the big event, now would you?”

It was at this moment that Varian’s “flight” instincts turned to “fight,” and before he could think to do anything else, Varian gripped at the floor hard with his fingers, causing several black rocks to spring up around him from the ground. Startled, the figure holding him down jumped away, allowing Varian the freedom to get up onto his knees. As he did so, Varian extended a hand forward, giving out a caterwaul as he sent a stream of black rocks at the monster. Unfortunately, his enemy seemed to be ready for this attack. As he dodged the oncoming spires, a twisting, slithering mass of glowing green shot forward, and coiled itself tightly around Varian’s wrist.

In alarm, Varian summoned more black rocks with his other hand, but that one too got entangled in the monster’s cursed tendrils. A moment later, Varian’s limbs were all bound, and he could only lay there helplessly as the creature again came and stood above him.

“Ah, good. You’ve been recovering nicely,” it said. “This will make things easier. We won’t have to wait as long as I had feared. We can begin immediately when we arrive!” “Wha-…wh-what are you talking about!?” Varian asked, his brain reeling. “I-I don’t understand! Demanitus, y-you said-! We were supposed to-!” “Oh, you really are a foolish child,” the un-man said, and Varian winced as its puppet body ragdolled forward at the torso, and the ghostly apparition of the demon emerged from its back. Now, it spoke in its own, gravely voice.

“I suppose in all his lessons your teacher neglected to tell you about my kind. Such a pity. In case it wasn’t obvious to you by now, I can take on any form that suits my needs. A warlock…” Here the form shifted back to its Demanitus appearance. “A demon, as you have seen. A child…” Now its form now shifted to that of a little girl. This form Varian found particularly unsettling, especially as the demon’s interpretation somehow resulted in the child having disturbingly large eyes and a long, twisted, Cheshire-cat grin. “And…even a blizzard.” Varian’s eyes went wide as those last words sank in. “Wait…Y-you!? You were-!?”

The creature giggled – though a haunting, deranged sort of child giggling which made Varian’s skin crawl – and resumed its position inside of the puppet body. As the creature snapped back to life, it knelt down by Varian, grabbing him by the hair with one hand, forcing Varian to look up at it.

“Zhan Tiri? Perhaps you’ve heard of me? Maybe your silly teacher mentioned me during one of your silly lessons.” For several seconds, Varian could only feel terror flood through him as it all began to sink in. Having grown up in Corona, Varian had of course heard the legends of Lord Demanitus, and his battles against the supposed dark creature from the netherworld that had tried to destroy the kingdom in its early days. Like most tales of such spectacular things, Varian had believed them to be mere myth. Or exaggerated tales of something that happened long ago at best. As such, the stories seemed to hold little to no relevance for his own personal life. He had no reason to give them much thought before.

But now-

“N-no!” Varian yelped. “I-I-it’s not true! It’s not true! You’re not real! You were just a- Aah!”

The monster chuckled as Varian’s face twisted in pain as it pulled harder on his hair. “Just a what? A fairytale? A myth? A legend?”

Varian didn’t respond back, only looking back at Zhan Tiri with frightened eyes as he remembered Xavier’s words. “All legends are born of truth.”

But it wasn’t fair! Where was the evidence? Where was the warning? How was he supposed to have known or prepared for a demon suddenly popping up out of nowhere!?

“No!” Varian insisted again. “It doesn’t make sense! Why would you be here, and why now?”

“Were you not paying attention?” the apparition said, finally releasing Varian, who continued to lay helpless on the floor as the un-man paced about in front of him. “Did you not agree with me that the power of the Moon Drop can cause rifts in time and space? I have been waiting centuries for it to finally be awakened enough for me to…slip through one of the cracks.” The creature stretched out an arm, twisting its wrist about, joints crackling. “Of course, I could only project a portion of my soul into the world with a warp that small. I would need something a bit more…substantial if I was to make any sort of progress.”

The creature eyed Varian with an evil, sideways glance. “Too bad you didn’t kill that Saporian spy when you had the chance. It wouldn’t have come to this if you had.”

Varian felt like he was going to be sick. Was this monster really talking about…?

And was he going to-…!?

“A-are you going to kill me?” Varian asked, not even trying to hide the squeakiness of his voice, nor the half-sob that escaped him as the idea passed through his mind.

“…No,” the un-man said, though Varian only felt minimal relief at this. Zhan Tiri had lied to him before after all. The monster smiled. “Fortunately for you – and your comrades as well – I was able to find another way around that problem, as you just witnessed yourself.”

Varian swallowed hard as he recalled what he had seen only moments before.

“I cannot take over a body that still contains a soul, and to kill you would also sever the powers within you. And I still have need of those powers. As I said, the Moon Drop can affect time and space, and as much as I would love to fool around with all of the idiotic citizens of Corona while wearing your face a while longer…” the creature snickered at its own thoughts. “I would very much like to be getting back my original body as soon as possible.” The un-man looked down at Varian. “And you will help me get it back. You will allow me to finally return to this world.”

Varian shook his head. “No! Y-y-you’re wrong!” he shouted. “What makes you think I’d ever help you? You can’t make me! I won’t do it!”

Zhan Tiri stared down at Varian, and for a moment, Varian thought he had actually pointed out a flaw in the demon’s plans. “Of course!” he thought. If it all depended on Varian’s cooperation, he could just say no, and that was it! Check mate! Zhan Tiri couldn’t go any further!

But-

“Oh, you won’t, will you?” the demon then asked, a purr returning to his voice as he raised a hand. “I’m afraid you already have,” and the monster clenched his hand into a tight fist.

“What-?”

Varian suddenly curled in on himself as he felt a sharp, aching pain wrap itself around his heart, and a low humming sound filled his brain. He cried out as it all came flooding out of him – anger, bitterness, grief, hatred, pride; all those feelings that had haunted him since that terrible day, and all the thoughts that came with them. At the same time, Varian felt magic prickle through his veins, and behind closed eyelids he could tell the air got brighter around him. He then heard the sound of the ground crunching nearby him a couple times, until finally the sensation let him go.

As Varian lay there panting, he opened his eyes, looking up to see several new black rocks protruding from the ground next to him. He also saw his shadow-self looking back at him with satisfaction, its own eyes and hair glowing a slight blue-silver.

“A bit of my own concoction, if you will recall” the creature replied smugly to Varian’s unspoken questions, and recalling to mind the vial and the food from before. “It is good fun to play on people’s hunger and thirst for anger, revenge, all that sort of thing. Easy too. So long as I’ve got you here…” The un-man’s glowing vines tightened harder around Varian’s limbs. “Combined with my bonding serum, you are my puppet on strings. I can use your powers as I please.”

Varian grit his teeth, struggling again for a moment. But he was getting so tired now, and helplessness began to weigh in on him.

“Oh, don’t look so down,” Zhan Tiri said mockingly, casually stepping over him to the mirror gateway. “You and I have similar goals, after all. We both want justice, do we not? We both want Corona to pay, right? We want her royals and all her useless citizens to hear us?”

Varian didn’t respond. He just lay there, still feeling the sticky-sweet sensation of his self-righteousness throbbing in his chest. Maybe…maybe Zhan Tiri was right. He remembered the rage that had burned within him when he’d been denied, ignored, abandoned, and locked away. He remembered the bitter glee of finally having the upper hand on those who had wronged him. He remembered the allure of the rush that came with lashing out at those who had wronged him, even to the point of violence. Surely, if it felt right…

And yet… And yet…

It wasn’t all so sweet anymore. It had been sweet when those whom he had hurt had been mere objects in his mind; just pawns in the grand game of good and bad that he had to win. But was he himself not offended at the idea of being seen as merely a pawn? And good and bad!? What did he know about them? At the very least, as Varian thought of the faces of Xavier, Friedborg, Arianna, the Captain, Pete and Stan, and all the rest – did he really think himself such a good person that he could place himself as their Judge?

…But it was too late. Zhan Tiri had a hold of him now.

“Mm. So be it,” the Shade finally said as Varian continued to remain silent. It stepped through the mirror gate to the other side, the glowing green vines continuing to extend through from its back, keeping Varian tethered to it. The monster took a deep breath as it came through, spreading its arms. “Ah, another step achieved!” it sighed, then spied Varian’s sword leaning against the fireplace. Picking it up, the un-man weighed the blade and scabbard in his hands, then strapped it around his waist. Finally, it picked up a nerby blanket, giving Varian one last, sneering, mocking look as it began to drape it over the mirror.

“Come now, Puer Lunae. Destiny awaits us!”

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

“Destiny,” Varian thought with absolute misery as his thoughts came back to the present. He’d heard people talk about destiny before, mostly Xavier and Rapunzel – a wisened blacksmith and a magical princess. Of course, destiny would be an appealing prospect for them. Their kind were always the heros in all the stories, always the ones to break through to the light of day.

But for someone like Varian? Perhaps “moon child” was a fitting title for him. Destined to always be in the dark no matter what he did. To never be free from it. To never break out and see the sun.

“…It’s all over now…” was all Varian could think to himself as he buried his face further into his arms, feeling utterly defeated.

He had failed… Again…

…Then-

Varian’s head shot up as out of nowhere he suddenly heard the sounds of fighting. For a moment, Varian thought he was hallucinating or dreaming as he saw a large, moving shape in silhouette against a large, oval light that had somehow appeared a few feet away. Then, as he continued to look, Varian realized it wasn’t one large shape, but two. And they were men! Two men, wrestling and fighting with one another! And not just any men, but Xavier! Two of him! And…Ruddiger!? Was Ruddiger clinging to the shoulders of one of them??

Varian had no idea how to respond as the two Xavier’s grappled with one another. He could only watch wide-eyed as they pushed, tugged, grabbed, and even threw a punch at one another here and there. Had he gone insane? Or was Zhan Tiri feeding him more illusions to mess with him?

After a minute or two, one of the Xavier’s appeared to gain the upper hand (the one with Ruddiger on his shoulder), and after getting a firm grip on the other, sent his opponent sprawling back out into the light. Varian then heard him shout something after the fallen Xavier, something that sounded like, “Keep him down! I’ll get him!”

What in the name of Herz der Sonne was going on??

Varian then froze, frightened as the Xavier on this side of the light turned towards him, then went running at him (or, at least, running as well as his clear limp would allow).

“X-Xav-?” Varian barely managed to say before he found himself scooped up into a tight hug in those strong, familiar arms, and heard a familiar chattering noise at his side.

“Oh Varian, thank heavens!” Xavier voice thundered in his ear. “It’s ok! It’s going to be ok! Are you hurt? I’m here now! I’ve got you! You’re going to be all right!”

[himbogriff]

Passion for Fashion [Akira & Astolfo]

Starter for @ngdays

Astolfo had little money to speak of, that he could tell but that wasn’t going to stop him from window shopping. He had a place to live, so why not find a home for this new digital Dust?

Spirale seemed to be its own world, but it still stayed in tune with the seasons of earth. The summer sun overhead was warm but not unbearable. The armor he wore was light for a knight, but still, metal and a cape, even white, was cozier than he needed. It was the season for short sleeves and short skirts, or cutoff jackets that shows off his waist. Maybe he’d find a combination of many things! Who knew? He didn’t!

He peered into a storefront and beamed, spotting the sort of clothes he branded as cute. His pink hair was the base for any outfit, and what followed was usually some combinations of pink, purple, black, or white. He’d go for any color really. Astolfo hummed idly to himself as he held up a pastel turquoise top up to his chest and looked in a mirror, puzzling over if it suited him or not.

Well, it was a useless exercise, because to Astolfo anything looked good on himself. He turned to the nearest person, soon to be his newest friend if he got his way, although they didn’t know that. Everyone is about to be your friend if you think of it that way! “Hey there! Is this cute, or too washed out? I’m Astolfo by the way!”

[truthoverall]

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[careycuprisin]

Bear 100 🐻 Race Report: You Have to Run the Downhills

The past isn’t made of facts, not really, just stories people tell to make themselves feel better.

— Joe Abercrombie, The Wisdom of Crowds

Dear Reader: why are you reading this race report?

If you’re a runner looking to do this race and want info, read sections II, III, VI

If you’re wanting a narrative story about the day, read II, III

If you want to know whether my drop was righteous or wimpy, read III, IV, VII

If you want information about my kit and equipment, read VI

If you’re a geeked-out nerd person, or a strategy junkie whose idea of ‘fun’ is destroying Logic Men on Twitter, or an aspiring ‘life coach,’ read I

I. META-STUFF ABOUT RACE REPORTS: When you finish a race like the Bear 100 (by which I mean wrapping up the weekend, whether your efforts got you an official finish or a drop somewhere along the course), you are left with an enormous heap of impressions and recollections and thoughts and analyses and excuses and explanations. Most of these are true, but they are not all necessarily coherent when combined with all the rest, and (more importantly) they are not always helpful. The job of writing a race report like this involves sorting through all of these thoughts and selecting a coherent narrative that makes sense.

That’s the easy part. A lot of possible, true, narratives make sense. How to choose among them? If you plan to enter races like this one in the future (as I do), the narrative that you construct in your race report will be also be useful to you later, guiding you to make better decisions for future races based on your experiences in this one. This process will inevitably favor some impressions and analyses over others, and as the memories of the race fade, the race report will harden into the Narrative Story of My Race, which will be coherent, true, and (if I do it right) helpful to me in future races.

As an example of the difference between helpful and unhelpful stories, an unhelpful story might be, “I didn’t do as well in this race as I’d hoped because I have no natural talent” or “the aid stations stocked Heed and Heed is disgusting.” These might both be true, but if that’s your story, how do you fix it? You can’t, so it’s not helpful. Heed is ubiquitous at aid stations in races all over the country. A helpful story, in contrast, might be something like, “I didn’t eat enough” or “I started too fast” or “I wore the wrong shoes” or “I didn’t do enough weekly mileage to prepare for this race.” All of these things are something you can act upon to get better results at the next race.

II. THE UNFOLDING OF THE RACE: I got out of bed at 0350 and was full of coffee and on the start line by 0600. It was still dark. Chilly but not cold. I was unfortunately wearing the New Balance Minimus shoes that I’d driven to Logan in, because I’d forgotten to pack the actual Salomon S-Lab Sense 8s that I wanted to use for the first twenty mile section. Making do!

I was somewhere in the middle of the pack when we finished the three or four blocks of residential street and funneled into the single track trail headed up Logan Dry Canyon. The conga line wasn’t too annoying, except for the guy ahead of me who was one of those guys who like to play music on speakers during a race so everyone around him can share his obvious love for Rob Zombie. The view of Logan as we got higher and the sun rose was spectacular. (Most people are still pretty energetic during this section so you’ll find videos of this aplenty on YouTube if you search for “Bear 100.”)

I should mention the hornets. There were a lot of them along the course all day and they were stinging people left and right. I’m used to living a charmed life, so I was not too surprised when the hornets spared me. Thank you, hornets.

After the initial long climb there are some rollers and I ran them easily. My downhill pace was much faster than most of the crowd I’d been with on the way up. A Utah resident named Kalina ran with me for a while and kept me from doubting my judgment that I was going downhill at a reasonable pace. Alas! This was the last time I’d pass a significant number of people (this is called ‘foreshadowing’).

Near the end of the rolling section Kalina dropped me and everyone else around her like a sack of potatoes on some short uphills and I never saw her again. She ended up finishing in around 27 hours (maybe I should have doubted my judgment). We meandered over to the big downhill into Leatham Hollow and I am sad to report that halfway down this beautiful descent I was losing the ability to run downhill. Basically leg and knee and foot pain with everything tightening up. And so it had begun — people passing me. So it would continue.

I got out of the the Leatham Hollow aid station with 5:04 elapsed, which was pretty much on my best-case-scenario pace for the overall race. I had my first drop bag there with beefier shoes, so I put them on, ditched the long shirt I wore at the start in favor of a tank top, and moved on.

Next was a flat-ish dirt road over to the Richards Hollow aid station, about three miles away (23-ish race miles total). It was mid-day and it was now hot in the sun but still cool in the shade. I tried the trick of running the shady parts and hiking the sunny parts. After the aid station the course settles into the classic Bear 100 pattern: low aid station, then big climb and descent to the next aid station. This climb was sunny and hot and I got up ok, but the next downhill was a mess. I couldn’t PAY people to not pass me. That’s what happens when you’re not running the downhills! I came into Cowley Canyon aid station knowing that a 30-hour finish was unlikely but, hey, a finish of any kind is still fabulous. I took a little longer in the aid station then I’d like on a good day, but then was off.

The Bear 100 pattern of up-down continued through the Right Hand Fork and Temple Fork aid stations. The little creek going into Right Hand Fork had some of the most beautiful beaver ponds I’ve ever seen: clear water that let you see right to the bottom with bright green plants floating on top. Another thing about Right Hand Fork — there was a pickup truck in the parking lot with big white lettering on the windows: Search Dog, Do Not Disturb. I looked closely at the truck but couldn’t see the search dog. Needless to say I was mildly disappointed (this is another example of foreshadowing).

I had pretty much been suffering ever since Richards Hollow but I started to feel a little bit better coming into Temple Fork just before it got dark. This was probably just a function of it not being hot any more. I was off pace but dealing with it. Physically feeling generally weak and miserable but mentally very sharp, and emotionally pretty stable. I got my headlamp out of my drop bag, put on a long-sleeve shirt, a light hat, and a wind jacket for the chill that set in immediately when the sun went down, and headed uphill again.

III. THE DROP: Climbing up to the Twin Creek aid station at the about the 50-mile mark (the Tony Grove substitute aid station for 2021) it was predictably dark and, thanks to the dry air, quickly getting colder and colder. The good vibes quickly fell away. I wasn’t able to eat anything because of nausea, so progress was reasonably slow up the climb. Some runners about twenty feet ahead of me startled a beaver and I heard its tail slap against the water of its pond. (And, since I remember it clearly now, at least I must not have been completely delirious then.) So long as I was climbing I was warm enough, but the nausea was getting worse and worse, and if I tried to fight the nausea by taking my foot off the gas a bit, I quickly got too cold and started shivering. I was stuck between my GI tract requiring that I decrease my physical exertion so it could start to function again, and a dependence on continued exertion to generate enough heat. A catch-22 that most people who’ve run a 100-mile race will probably recognize.

When I got into the aid station at Twin Creek, I went into the warmed tent with the intention of relaxing for fifteen minutes to half an hour to give my stomach an opportunity to wake up. (Was that a mistake?) The plan was to eat and drink some things, put on some warmer clothes from my drop bag, and get out. Depending on who I talked to, it was somewhere between 12 and 14 miles to the next aid station at Franklin basin. This was the longest distance between any two aid stations in the race. I still had plenty of time before the cutoff.

Sadly, fifteen and then thirty minutes came and went and I was not recovering. The nausea wouldn’t go away and I was still shivering vigorously even in the warming tent after I’d put on warmer clothes and gotten under a reflective space blanket. The cutoff time got closer, and the decision became more and more about whether I should set off for another 12 (let’s be optimistic) miles without any food in the stomach, to try to get to the next aid station before I got hypothermic. It was unlikely that I’d get to Franklin Basin by 2 am, which is the time I figured I had to be there to have a reasonable chance of finishing the whole race in 36 hours. Ultimately I decided that the risks weren’t worth the increasingly unlikely reward. So I dropped. Nothing too unusual here, just weighing probabilities and applying my own risk tolerance to various decisions. This is probably what most people do when they DNF a race.

Grrr. Very mad. Many F-bombs.

IV. WHAT COULD I HAVE DONE DIFFERENTLY? I think this is a mandatory question after a DNF, because I HATE drops and it’s not worth protecting my ego if it means I overlook mistakes and fail to handle the next similar situation in a better way. With the caveat that this is all in retrospect, and that my current comfort might be obscuring an accurate recollection of how feeble I was at the time, here is what I would do:

I would still wait in the aid station to give the shivering and nausea a chance to go away, but when they did not stop, before I dropped, I’d get up, put some snacks into a little bag I could take with me, and continue out of the aid station with the intention of going a half-mile down the trail to see what happened. If things were still shitty the whole way, then I could turn around and head back and I’d only have a half-mile return trip to safety.

V. THE SEARCH DOG, or, AFTER THE DROP: After two or three hours of lying on the cot in the Twin Creek aid station with a few other people and their pacers who had dropped, a guy named Rob arrived in an ATV and four of us piled in. Rob drove us down to Franklin Basin with full-bright headlights lighting up the rough two-track and the cold wind blowing in our faces. It was my first ride in an ATV! After we’d arrived at Franklin, I made sure to compliment him on his driving (he was obviously, even to an ATV virgin like me, very good at it). I immediately went into the warming tent at Franklin and settled in until I could find a ride, ideally back to my car at the Logan start line, but willing to simply be shuttled along to further aid stations if that were necessary.

Most of the people arriving to Franklin were in bad shape, and either dropped there or struggled out just ahead of the generous (in my opinion) cutoff time of 4 am. Like I said before, I doubted there was much chance of making the overall race cutoff of 6pm if you weren’t out of Franklin by 2 am, absent a resurgence of speed later in the night or when the sun came up. (There is an objective way to check if I’m wrong or not, but I haven’t done it because at this point, I don’t want to look at the results!) Anyway, most of the people leaving Franklin were leaving with their crews on the way to Beaver Creek lodge. I kept waiting for someone who could give me a ride to Logan, and the odds looked slimmer and slimmer. Well after the 4 am cutoff time, a woman walked in with a four-month-old golden retriever puppy who I immediately made friends with because the puppy wanted to chew on my hand and I let him. He wasn’t biting hard! Turns out the puppy’s owner was crewing someone who came in with her pacer around 6 am after having taken about six hours to make the trip from Twin Creek. This runner’s dad was also crewing; he asked if I needed a ride and was happy to take me back to Logan. So I struggled out of the warming tent and whoa! Remember back at Right Hand Fork aid station where I’d seen that pickup truck with ‘Search Dog, Do Not Disturb’ on the window? That was his truck, and the golden retriever puppy was his Search Dog! Turns out, he had two full-grown trained search dogs and this puppy was going to follow along after them when he grew up. So, happily, I got to ride back to my car in Logan with a very nice family and a very nice little pup.

The Search Dog!

Inside the Search Dog truck

VI. THE KIT: The most notable thing about my gear was that I wore the new High Capacity Running Vest from Naked Sports Innovations. It’s an extremely tight running vest with a front zipper. I like to call it a Sports Bra for Men. I thought it worked pretty well and I will probably wear it again. The advantages are that it’s very lightweight, you can pack a lot of shit into it if you have to, and because it’s so tight, there is zero bouncing of your water bottles or other gear when you’re running. The disadvantages are also related to its being so tight. There were times when my chest felt kind of sore, and I wondered if the vest was compressing my ribs a little too much. The other problem is that zipping it up in front can be difficult if your vest is fully loaded because, again, it’s very tight. Also, when you add layers for the night section, you have to add them on top of the vest or risk it being even tighter if you bulk up your chest with extra layers under the vest. My solution will probably be to buy another vest one size bigger for long races or when I plan to be wearing layers. It costs a lot of money, but so do other vests, and at least I’m not a triathlete so all my gear compared to that sport is CHEAP.

In addition to the vest, I also wore a Naked running band. Both the vest and the belt have good mechanisms for stashing folded-up poles. I had poles, which were very useful after thirty miles for both climbs and descents. I wore the Salomon Ultra Glide shoes for everything after the 20-mile aid station, and they worked great. Because I forgot to pack the Salomon S-Lab Sense 8 shoes that I had planned to wear at the start, I was forced to wear my New Balance Minimus shoes from the start to 20 miles, which did cause some plantar irritation and ankle soreness on the long downhill into Leatham Hollow. I think these shoes are great but only for distances less than ten miles (and never for gravelly surfaces with inch-wide rocks that can dig into your feet).

I used SkratchLabs and Ultima electrolyte mix in order to avoid the aid-station Heed (which is disgusting), and carried Spring Energy gels. I had the cheapest salt tabs I could find at REI. Goodr sunglasses and wool socks which I changed a few times. I had no blisters, no sunburn, and no injuries!

The obligatory pre-race kit photo

VII. THE AFTERMATH AND THE ANALYSIS: It’s never fun or satisfying to have to drop from a race. The good news is that this DNF wasn’t entirely surprising in retrospect. It was exactly what I deserved! Looking back on this summer, I basically just fucked around and did way too little preparation for this race. I had only one training run of greater than 20 miles and hadn’t raced at all this summer. I never really got out into the mountains and didn’t go up any fourteeners this year. The covid withdrawal from the world was probably part of this; I was just waiting stuff out. I had signed up for the Bear a year ago and frankly, wasn’t excited about it until about a month before the race. There were two or three weeks where I went back and forth about starting, and by the time I’d firmly decided to do it, there wasn’t enough time to actually train for it.

Another bit of good news is that unlike the Bighorn 100 where I felt I *had* to keep coming back every year until I finished that race, I do not think that way at all about the Bear 100 (probably because I’ve already finished one 100M race and I’m comfortable with not being a super-fan of 100s.) I enjoy this race and will likely come back to try it again, but I don’t feel *obliged* to.

The third bit of somewhat good news is that this failure at the Bear rekindled a bit of enthusiasm for actually preparing myself to do well at a race. On the drive home from Utah I was thinking about how I’d structure my season in order to do well at the Bear, and I think that’s a pretty good sign!

VIII. SO, HOW WOULD YOU STRUCTURE YOUR SEASON? Whatever it takes to be able to run the downhills after twenty miles! More specifically I suspect the best preparation for me for a fall 100 would be one or two 50 milers earlier in the summer. For the Bear, I would do the Pikes Peak Ultra 50M in July and maybe an earlier-season 50 like Quad Rock or Behind the Rocks. I’d probably tune up with something like the Telluride Mountain Run in August. In addition, I’d do a few more longer runs during the summer like Gold Hills or a Doug Loops or Morrison Triples, and I would do some above-treeline tundra adventures. All of this just to build a bit of endurance and let me RUN THE DOWNHILLS at the Bear. 🐻

Links

Strava GPS record for my race

Bear 100 website

Bear 100 Facebook group

Bear 100 YouTube videos

[notarelationship]

Along For The Rides, ch 4

Blaine and Kurt get their summer romance on. Mostly fluff, awkward flirting, a side of misunderstanding and some hanky panky.

Rating: Hmmm...still T, this chapter. M eventually Words: This chapter - 4254

Warnings this chapter: Mild overuse of italics

thanks to @honeysucklepink as always! I did make some changes after her read through so please blame me for any mistakes.

Tumblr link to the whole story here

There is something weird going on at AO3 and I can’t troubleshoot as I’m at the office. I’ll get this up there later. 

--

It turns out that the carnival business is slow on most weekdays, even in the summer, so they’re closed on Monday and only open for the evening hours on Tuesday, and Kurt doesn’t have to work on either day. He’s grateful for the break - from the dirt, from Rachel and her meddling (and her constant chattering about New York); from the french fries and the fried pickles and even, just a little bit, from Blaine.

It is exhausting wondering if someone likes you, and all the wondering what you’re supposed to do about it doesn’t help. And what if you like them? What are you supposed to do about that? It’s especially exhausting when at the ripe old age of 18 no one has ever actually liked you ever. Not that way.

“How are things?” His dad asks him over coffee, bowls of oatmeal, and cut up fruit for breakfast.

Kurt makes a non committal shrug of his shoulder and puts down his coffee mug. He’s been keeping long hours at the carnival and Kurt hasn’t really had a chance to give Burt details about what the job was like or even what had happened with Karofsky, so he fills him in. He tries to offhandedly mention how Blaine had gotten in the middle of all of it, and had wound up with a black eye for his trouble, but Kurt can tell by the look on Burt’s face that rather than brush over that detail he’s managed to  pique his dad’s curiosity.  Kurt doesn’t tell him about the giraffe.

“Has he come back? Karofsky?” Burt asks.

Kurt shakes his head quickly. “No, not once. And the site manager said that he’s not allowed back and they’ll remove him if he shows. Or call the police.” Kurt takes a bite of oatmeal, swallowing quickly. “His neanderthal friends, too.”

Burt took a few seconds, his mouth twisted in a thoughtful expression and Kurt could tell he was contemplating having to get involved in some way. Burt cleared his throat. “So. You see much of that Blaine kid?”

Kurt blinked owlishly at his dad, carefully not avoiding his eyes. “Um, now and then.” Burt looked like he was waiting for Kurt to go on. “But not that much. You know, since he has to work, and I have to work.” Kurt was nodding his head so wildly he was sure he looked like a bobble head doll.  “And we’re both working.” Kurt winces, mostly on the inside.

“He seemed like a nice kid.” Kurt wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he shoved a spoonful of oatmeal into his mouth. “Hey if you’re not all worn out from your fancy outdoor job you wanna come in tomorrow? Oil changes are backed up, and we’re expecting the tires to come in today for that RV your friend brought in -“

“Dad he’s not my fr -“ Kurt starts to interrupt, but he can see his dad fighting to keep the corners of his mouth from turning into a smile. “I hate you.”

Burt huffs a laugh. “If you say so.”

“I don’t even know him, Dad. And he’s only in Lima for two weeks anyway, so it’s best just not to get involved at all. And I’ve never even dated anyone before!” Kurt slaps his hand over his mouth. That was more than he intended to say.

“I hate to make assumptions,” Burt says. “You’ve taught me that, but it seems like he, might, you know, be a kindred spirit.” Burt gestures a little awkwardly with his fork.  “And I would never, ever, suggest you do anything or spend time with someone if you don’t like them. But,” Kurt looks at his dad and his expression becomes softer. “Kurt. You don’t know a lot of other gay kids -”

“I don’t know any gay kids dad. Not any that are out to me, anyway.”  

“Okay, any.” Burt shrugs.  “He seemed like a nice kid, is all I’m saying. You might have fun just hanging out with him. Even if it’s just to eat corn dogs and compare notes.” Burt stands up, taking both his and Kurt’s bowls to the kitchen. “But you do what you think is best for you, Kurt. You know I trust your judgment.”

Kurt smiles, a little sadly. There’s never even been any occasion for Kurt to give him a reason not to, which only gives Kurt a tiny feeling of regret. His rebellions had all been about things his dad had fully supported, whether it was his unique sense of fashion or singing girl songs in Glee Club. “I know Dad. And I’ll come in to the garage tomorrow. It’s actually more fun than sitting in a hot booth with Rachel for six hours, gossiping about every person in Allen County.” Kurt fakes a shudder.

Burt pats Kurt on the shoulder as he heads out. “I don’t believe for a minute you actually think that, son.”

Kurt spends the morning plotting a healthy meal plan for the two of them for the next two weeks, making a shopping list and sticking it on the fridge for his dad. He’ll be making up for the terrible eating he’s done lately with a lot of green vegetables, no matter how much his dad complains.

He picks out some outfits for the week;  some Tommy Hilfiger shorts that look nice but aren’t too nice to get dirty (because the dirt and grime and dust of a carnival in the Ohio summer is apparently not avoidable if you have to be there all day), and a pair of jean cutoff shorts that possibly might make his ass look great. Maybe. Not that that was a contributing factor.  He doesn’t want to look like he cares too much, but he does hate to look like he doesn’t care at all. It’s a fine balance and carnival-chic is a new challenge. Not that he’s trying to impress anyone. Not really. He wants to go with a sleeveless tee he has, but he’s outdoors far too long for that, so he plucks out a few short sleeved shirts that make him look more muscular than he is, and a t-shirt from the Rent revival he saw in Columbus the year before.

When he gets to the garage on Tuesday there is oil to change and tires to rotate, like Burt promised. The Fleetwood RV that Blaine drove into the garage just a week ago is up on a riser, its old tires missing in anticipation of the new set. Burt is on the phone when Kurt walks into the office.

“Yeah, it took a couple extra days for the tires to get here,” Kurt hears Burt tell whoever is on the other end of the phone. “But we should have them all on by the end of the day today….yeah, no problem...we can send someone over to pick up a driver if you want...whatever works best for you...I’ll call to confirm the time...thanks.”

“Problems?” Kurt asks when Burt hangs up.

“Nah. Tires just came in this morning so I told them we wouldn’t have it ready for pickup until close. I offered to bring it over tomorrow, but they’ve been sleeping the crew in three campers instead of four, and they’re going a little stir crazy, so they’d like to have it tonight, so they might just send someone over later.”

“Probably smells like a locker room you live in. What a horrible thought.” Locker rooms had never exactly been friendly to Kurt. He might like boys, but boys in packs? That didn’t bode well for anyone. “I can drive it over later,, if you think it’ll be ready by then?”

“You’d have no way to get home from there. Nah, we’ll figure it out. I’ve got plenty of other work for you today.”

Kurt tries not to feel disappointed at the idea that he won’t be picking Blaine up and spending twenty minutes alone in the car with him. And then he tries not to panic at the thought of being alone in the car with Blaine for twenty minutes. What would he say? Would they  have anything to talk about?  Maybe they weren’t supposed to talk. Maybe they were just supposed to get comfortable enough with each other to crawl into the back seat of Kurt’s Beetle and make out. And honestly, how would the two of them fit back there? Blaine was small, but Kurt’s legs would never fit back there. He’d wind up on his back with his ankles dangling over the front seat and -

“Kurt?” Kurt blinks rapidly to see Burt waving a hand in front of his face. “You all right?”

“What? Oh. Yes. Fine. I’m fine.” Kurt plasters on a smile for his dad. “Just thinking about something ridiculous Rachel said the other day.”

“Is she still bugging you about going to New York with her before you get accepted anywhere?”

Kurt shrugged affirmatively. She actually hadn’t mentioned it in a while, but it was the easiest answer to give.

“If you want, we can talk about it.”

“Thanks Dad. Maybe later. All this oil won’t change itself,” Kurt says with a chuckle.  “I’d better get to it.”

Eight hours later Kurt is tired, sweaty, and ready to go home. He’d accidentally kicked the oil pan while doing one of the oil changes, and oil had splattered all over his left leg. He may have to abandon his boots.  Thankfully he’d worn his work boots and not his favorite Dr. Martens.

It’s almost time to close the shop, and the rest of the guys are in the back room getting their things together, so he heads into the office where his dad is finishing up some paperwork.  He knows the RV is ready to go - he saw Randy take it out to test the new tires about an hour earlier, but he pointedly did not ask his dad about it.

Kurt leans halfway through the door. “Ready to go soon?”

“Oh hey Kurt,” Burt says, looking up. “Actually Carole called a few minutes ago looking for someone to have dinner with.” Burt’s only nervous tic was scratching behind his ear, and he was doing it now. He’d been dating Carole on and off for about a year, which is fine with Kurt - Carole is a lovely woman. Kurt had had a crush on her son once upon a time, but he’d gotten over it when Finn started dating Rachel and he got to know him better. But Kurt does like Carole, and he wants his dad to be happy just as much as his dad wants him to be happy. Kurt doesn’t like the idea of leaving Ohio one day and his dad having no one.

“Oh, okay. Did you want me to close up so you can get home and get cleaned up?” Kurt offers. “I don’t have anywhere to be.”

“About that,” Burt starts, looking a little guilty. “The carnival manager called about an hour ago and said they were quiet enough they could send someone over. They should be here soon. The rest of the guys are already on their way out, would you mind hanging around until they show up?”

“Oh.” Kurt stands straight up, his brain snapping his body to attention. “Um, sure. I can be here.”

“Thanks Kurt,” Burt slaps him on the shoulder as he moved to head out the door. “They didn’t say who was coming, so I don’t know -”

“Oh, oh no Dad,” Kurt says quickly. “It’s fine. Great. No problem.” He waves a hand in front of him, stopping Burt from going on. “I’ll just get cleaned up and hang out until someone shows up. I know who most of the guys are anyway so it’s fine. No problem,” he says again.

“Good. Thanks.” Burt points to a folder on the desk. “Just have whoever picks it up sign the receipt - you know the drill. They took care of payment over the phone.”

“Go, Dad. I got it.” Kurt pushes Burt out the door. “Have fun! Say hi to Carole for me.”

Once his dad leaves he heads back to the office. The other mechanic on shift waves goodbye to Kurt on his way out, and Kurt follows him so he can lock the door behind him.  They’re officially closed, but they have a buzzer outside for late pickups since it does happen now and then.

Kurt is just turning the lock when he sees a taxi pull up in front of the garage. His heartbeat picks up just a little in anticipation, then he shakes his head.

“Get it together Hummel,” he says to a wall of hubcaps. He sees the passenger climbs out, and it’s Blaine. Kurt bites his lip. He watches Blaine bound up the walkway and unlocks the door when he gets closer. He really doesn’t have to be nervous, right? There’s nothing happening, He’s just a cute guy. A cute gay guy. Who flirts.

“Hi Kurt,” Blaine says brightly when Kurt opens the door. “You’re here.” He sounds surprised.

“You were expecting Prince Charming?” It’s out of his mouth before he can stop it. Kurt feels like he’s turning red from his ears to his toes, but he can’t stop that either. “Shrek!” He blurts out, before Blaine can react. He steps out of the way so Blaine can come in.

Blaine looks momentarily confused, but he’s got a pleased smile on his face. “Shrek?”

“Yeah. Rachel and I watch it when life sucks and we need something stupid to make us laugh.” Kurt chuckles awkwardly and leads Blaine toward the office. Maybe he can get through this quickly and then hide in his bedroom until the carnival leaves town.

“Oh, yeah. It’s definitely a favorite,” Blaine agrees. “We have a copy in the RV for when we get bored.”

When they get to the office Kurt steps behind the desk, locating the receipts for Blaine to sign, and turns around to find the right set of keys on the pegboard. He takes a deep breath when his back is to Blaine. This is going way too fast. He really doesn’t just want to give Blaine the keys and have him go away.

“So the mechanic took it for a drive this afternoon once the new tires were on, but you should probably take it for a drive around the block before you head out onto the road. It might drive differently on the new tires, and you should at least have a feel for it before you get out into traffic. If you’ve got time, I mean.”

“Oh, okay. I’ve got time for that,” Blaine says.

Kurt holds out the keys to Blaine and as Blaine takes them out of his hand Kurt realizes that he never had a chance to clean up and he is still filthy from the day changing oil. This is the worst day of his life. He pulls his hand back.

“Oh god, I’m covered in motor oil.”

Blaine shrugs. “I’m usually covered in machine oil. It’s an occupational hazard.” He grins at Kurt. “Besides, you look cute in your jumpsuit.”

Kurt opens his mouth to object - because he looks anything but cute - but it just goes slack when he registers that Blaine just told him he looked cute.

“I wouldn’t ask,” Kurt starts, fumbling. “But Rachel said - are you gay?”

Blaine bites his lip and looks away for a second. “I thought I was being more obvious than that,” he half-mumbles. “Is my flirting game that bad?”

Kurt laughs exhaling in a puff of air and rolling his eyes at himself. “I honestly have no idea. I don’t meet a lot of out gay guys my own age around here. And there’s not a lot of flirting in my life.” Kurt goes to run his hand through his hair, then catches himself, making a face. “And I look terrible.” Blaine is shaking his head, but Kurt continues. “You’re all set, I can lock you out.”

“What about my test drive?” Blaine asks. “Safety first.” He jingles the keys in front of him.

“You don’t really need one,” Kurt says, but he doesn’t add that he made it up to spend more time with Blaine.

“But you made such a convincing argument,” Blaine teases. “Would you join me? I mean, what if I have questions? Or I can’t figure out how to use the turn signal?”

Kurt laughs, he’s definitely never been flirted with this hard before. He likes it way too much.. “I’m pretty sure we didn’t do anything to the turn signal. It should work the same way it did before.”

“Still,” Blaine says, smiling.

“Okay,” Kurt agrees, considering it only for a moment. It’s a good thing Blaine isn’t going to be around a long time, because Kurt is not sure he could ever say no to his smile. “Do you mind if I get a little cleaned up first?” Blaine says okay, and Kurt heads to the back room to change and collect himself.

“It’s just a ride in a car, that’s it,” he tells himself as he’s fixing his hair in the crinkled mirror. “Blaine will have his hands full the whole time.” He takes a deep breath, steeling himself. “Okay,” he says when he rejoins Blaine. “Ready.”

Once they get into the cab of the RV Kurt relaxes. Blaine is obviously a little nervous driving the big vehicle, and he tones down the earlier flirting so he can pay attention to what he’s doing. When it turns out that the new tires do make the RV drive differently, Kurt feels a little less like he tricked Blaine into spending time with him. Blaine drives around the block a half dozen times, feeling comfortable enough after that that he can drive back to the carnival grounds.

“That was a good idea, Kurt. Thank you for suggesting it,” Blaine says sincerely after he cuts the engine. Neither of them say anything for a beat, and Kurt starts to say ‘goodnight’ just as Blaine says “What are you doing now?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, I have to get back to work, but, um, what are you up to tonight?”

“Nothing,” Kurt says. “I have to lock up, then I was going to head home and soak in the bathtub to get this grime off of me.” Blaine chuckles. “Between this place and the ticket booth I may have to remove several layers of skin before I feel normal again.”

“Oh man, I would love a bath,” Blaine moans, banging his head back against the headrest. “We just have those horrible showers in the campers, and sometimes they don’t even work.”

“Do you ever get a real shower?” Kurt asks. He’s a bit distracted by the column of Blaine’s throat, but he’s not sure he could survive an entire summer with those tiny showers they have in campers.

“Before we came here, actually,” Blaine answers, nodding. “We stayed in a motel for almost the whole week. It was amazing.” Blaine sighs, and Kurt laughs at the idea that spending a week in a motel would be a highlight of the summer.

“I should go lock up,” Kurt says again.

“Oh, yeah. Do you want me to stay? Wait to make sure everything’s safe?”

Kurt smiles. It’s a nice thing to offer. “It’s okay, it’s still light out, so I doubt anyone is lurking.”

Kurt jumps out, waving at Blaine as he unlocks the door and slips inside. There isn’t much to do, just double check the back doors, make sure the coffee pot is cleaned out and all the lights are turned off. Things he didn’t have time to do when he rushed out earlier to go with Blaine. Once he’s satisfied that he’s got the shop closed up properly he leaves out the front door, to find Blaine still parked in front of the garage.

He’s gotten out of the RV though, and is leaning against the passenger side door.

“Hey,” he says. “I know I’m being weird.”

It’s odd that Blaine is still there, but Kurt is more worried than anything. “Is everything alright? Is there something wrong with the RV?” Kurt looks over the vehicle as if he can diagnose it with x-ray vision.

“No, it’s fine. Look I have to get back, and this is probably stupid, but I can never seem to get you alone to just talk to you, and I really really want to.”

“You want to talk to me?” Kurt is confused. Blaine looks like he’s both nervous and going to come out of his skin at the same time. It’s near dusk now, and the light is making the color of his eyes change every time he blinks.

“I really like you, Kurt, and I know we don’t have a lot of time, but I have wanted to kiss you since the first day I came here and saw you.” Blaine stops, licking his lips as he draws a step closer to Kurt. “So can I?”

Kurt is acutely aware of how hard he is breathing, and how attractive Blaine is, and how he is nowhere near close enough to kiss him. Kurt takes a step closer.

“You want to kiss me?” It comes out in a whisper and Kurt would feel embarrassed at that if he weren’t entirely freaking out. “Why?”

“I can think of a million reasons,” Blaine says. But now he is close enough, and Kurt doesn’t want to miss this opportunity. Nobody has ever wanted to kiss him before. (Well, almost nobody.)

Kurt closes the gap between them, putting on hand on Blaine’s shoulder as he presses his lips to Blaine’s…

...and is instantly struck by how he has no idea what he’s doing. Blaine is parting his lips and sighing into his mouth, and he turns his head, hissing as Kurt catches the bit of Blaine’s lip that’s still swollen from being hit between his own lips. But Blaine doesn’t stop, pressing in closer and carefully cupping Kurt’s face in one hand and keeps kissing him, and it’s perfect.

“Blaine,” Kurt gasps when they separate just a few very long seconds later. “I’ve never kissed anyone before,” he blurts out.

“What?” Blaine blinks, concern slowly replacing the slightly dreamy look in his eyes. “Never?”

Kurt shakes his head. Blaine pecks him gently on the mouth, but he looks nervous. “Oh.”

Kurt wants to kiss Blaine again, possibly for several hours, but Blaine is pulling away, and he knows they can’t stay there kissing in the parking lot at Hummel Tire & Lube all night.

“I have to get back,” Blaine says, looking like he really doesn’t want to leave. but Kurt is not in enough control of his thoughts or his speech at the moment to really protest. “Do you mind if I come by the ticket booth in the morning?”

Kurt nods, internally screaming at himself to leave - because he needs to spend some time flailing about what just happened, but all he wants to do is press Blaine up against the side of the RV and kiss him until they both can’t breathe.

When Kurt finally gets home, the house is dark. Burt is still out with Carole, though Kurt expects he won’t be out too much longer. Kurt’s exhausted. All the adrenaline that started coursing through his system when he kissed Blaine has drained, and now all he wants to do is take a shower and crawl into his bed.

He takes one of his pre-made salads out and sits down at the kitchen table to eat. Propped up against the salt and pepper shakers is an envelope from NYU Tisch, addressed to Kurt. Burt must have put it there when he stopped at home before his date.

Kurt already knew he hadn’t been accepted at NYADA, where Rachel was going, and he had applied late to NYU and hadn’t heard anything, so he’d just assumed at this point that he’d been too late. He doesn’t want to rush, because the longer he doesn’t open it the longer the possibility that he might have gotten in remains a reality.

He manages to chew approximately three times before he rips the letter open. Kurt scans it once, not entirely ready to believe, but the sixth time through it sinks in. He’s been wait-listed. This is a thousand times better than being rejected!

He wants to tell someone, he should tell Rachel - but he doesn’t want to deal with her insanity until he knows for sure, so he doesn’t call her. He can tell his dad when he gets home. Or in the morning, if he goes to sleep before Burt shows up.

Kurt reads the letter over and over as he finishes his salad. He can keep his hopes up.

He finishes eating quickly, then heads to his room to clean up, skipping the bath he had planned on and opting for a quick shower and then crawling exhausted into bed, his emotions buzzing.

Kurt doesn’t fall asleep right away, his head is swimming with thoughts of New York and Blaine and kissing Blaine, and he doesn’t know how to get them to stop. He tries not to feel too guilty when he sticks his hand down the front of his pajama pants and doesn’t try even a little bit not to think about Blaine when he finally comes hard into his fist.

[beautiful-thorne-blog]

((Headcanon: Arabella’s clothing style.

Already mentioned are the peasant skirts, Reeboks, and floppy hats. She may also wear comfortable slip-on shoes with that combo if she’s not anticipating any action.

She’ll also wear faded old skinny jeans with a variety of flowy peasant blouses, some short sleeve and some long. The tops may be pretty low cut sometimes, because she has curves and enjoys displaying them. She may or not pair a hat with it, depending on her mood.

In the heat of summer, it’ll be cutoff jeans and camis, sometimes with the Reeboks and sometimes with comfortable hiking sandals. She’ll often wear a hat in the summer as sun protection. (She has a bunch. She kind of collects them. You can sometimes find her trying them on in Wal Mart)

She also has a pair of brown leather knee-high boots that she’ll wear instead of the Reeboks sometimes.

She’s a bikini girl when she swims and suns.

Winter, she wears lots of soft, oversized knitted sweaters. She’ll pair them with jeans most of the time when going out and sweat pants when staying in. 

For formal wear, she tends towards long gowns, either close-fitting at the top and flowy in the skirt or slinky and slit at the hip. She may also sometimes break out the Little Black Dress, which, true to its name, is very little. She’ll wear strappy stilettos with them, but she’s a bit awkward in them. 

Her color choices tend towards an autumn palette-- rusty reds, oranges, golds, maybe with a smattering of various hues of green, and silver.`

She’ll often wear necklaces with crystal pendants of various kinds decoratively bound in jeweler’s wire. These crystals may be charged up with her magic for various purposes, such as grounding or protection.

Physically, Arabella is a size 12-14. She is soft and curvy on the surface, but beneath has a lot of strong, ropey muscle, because she walks a lot and works out to old Tae Bo videos. She is very comfortable with her body and will give the evil eye to anyone who tries to tell her she’s overweight or unhealthy. Not literally, of course. But she will give them the finger.))