#presumably the same bird from last week

[kil9]

last satuday there was a bird hanging out on my window for like an hour and now today (saturday) theres TWO birds (she brought a friend) but now i have to wonder do birds know the days of the week ???

[yellowjestertfs]

Altered State: Part Five

Alright second to last part! Read Part Four, Three, Two, and One here if you haven't. Just a warning, part is more action oriented then the others but still has the same tf and progression elements. Currently I am in the process of writing the epilogue which is a bit of a mess at the moment so the last part might be a few weeks (sorry) but hopefully not too long. Anyways enjoy and thanks for reading!

Edward's mind worked feverishly, processing his thoughts as fast as he could with his 19 intelligence. Part of him wanted to blow off the quest. The possibility of being a level one wretch, if defeated, seemed too big a risk to take. On the other hand, the love potion offered as a reward was excruciatingly tempting. The decision was made for him, Leon scooped him up in a firm fireman’s hold and then still naked, sprinted out the door and into the cool night, moving at a pace Edward couldn’t quite believe. 

His strides were effortless and long, and even with the added weight of Edward, Leon made an amazing time. The row of frat houses that everyone called “fratrow” was four blocks away. Leon reached in just less than a minute hardly even winded. 

It was fairly obvious which house was Sigma Alpha’s. Besides having the Greek letters emblazoned on its front, it was the only house on the row with loud music and voices coming from the backyard.

Leon set Edward down and it took a few seconds for him to get his bearings. According to Trent’s texts, the Alpha Sigma frat bros weren’t letting anyone leave. Edward had no idea why but he couldn’t imagine it was for any good reason. The backyard, enclosed by a seemingly hastily erected high wooden fence was where everyone was congregated. Two frat guys with their arms crossed stood outside, seemingly guarding the entrance to the backyard, and also the way out. 

Just above the fence, Edward could see the tip of a white-domed object peeking out. It looked like a satellite dish connected to the top of a projector screen connected with random metal scraps and duct tape. Sure enough, Edward could see a place on the side of the large two-story house with loose wires sticking out of it where the satellite dish was presumably held before.

The seconds ticked by. They had less than sixteen minutes remaining. “Alright, I’ll check out the backyard, and see if I can get everyone out. You need to go into the house and see if you can find Hunter or Alvis and shut down whatever it is they are planning” Edward said, the pressure making him decisive. As the one with the highest intelligence, if only by a few points, he felt responsible for making a plan. 

“You want us to split up?” Leon asked incredulously. 

“We have to. Besides you're much better equipped to do actual fighting.” Edward found his eyes drifting over to one of Leon’s strong pump pecs. He suddenly remembered that Leon was naked, a very easy thing to forget with Leon’s Naked Confidence perk. That meant he wasn’t carrying a phone, not that that would have been useful with Edward’s being basically dead. “If either one of us is in trouble make a bird sound or something. 

“A bird sound, are you for real?” Leon asked rolling his eyes. The comment broke Edward’s moment of seriousness and he moved to punch his friend in the arm, but then remembered the effect of his touch and thought better of it. 

“Shut up. Just call for help.” They now had only fifteen minutes left. “We got to go, stay safe.”

Edward pounded a fist against his muscular chest and faint hollow metallic sounds rang out. “Don’t worry about me.” Then in a genuine tender way, Edward hardly ever heard his friend use “you be safe too. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Edward felt his heart skip a beat. This was not the time to be having these feelings but god damn was Leon good at giving mixed signals. “Bet you I’ll get take out more frat guys than you.” Leon challenged.

“Suck my dick” was all Edward said. 

“Fine, but if I win you have to suck mine.” Leon shot back. 

“You're so on,” Edward said as the two snuck forward. Edward headed for the backyard, and Leon went up the stairs and to the front door of the frat. Once Edward got closer he could make out the two frat guys stationed at the door. He didn't recognize either of them. They looked young, maybe recent pledges. Edward wasn’t overly surprised when he saw they had floating names above their heads with classes and levels, but he thought it would make this a whole lot more difficult.

Luckily neither of the two guards was very high level. The one on the right had a floating tag above him that labeled him as Broden, a level four Jock. The other guy was a stranger. He wore a suit jacket and tie on top and only his boxers on the bottom. His name was Harold and he was only level two in a class called an Oil Baron. Edward shuddered to think about what type of boosts a class like that would give, though if these classes followed the pattern his and Leon’s did, which was hardly a guarantee, they hopefully wouldn’t have any abilities or techniques unlocked until level five. 

Edward adopted his best approximation of a bro walk and strode forward with all the confidence he could muster. The two young frat guys seemed as if they were about to say something but stopped when they saw the name and level above his name. 

“Yoo, what are you two bozos still doing here?” Edward asked in a dumb voice. He overdid it a bit and sounded like a caveman instead of a frat guy, but he hoped his high charisma and perks might make up the difference.

The two pledges just looked at him blankly. “Hunter sent you two out to get more duct tape like an hour ago. He’s going to be so pissed.”

“But bro, Hunter told us not to leave this door,” The Jock said, in a slow confused way that made it clear his class wasn’t giving him any boosts to intelligence.

“Don’t worry about it bro, I got it. No one gets in or out, I know the deal.”

The Oil Baron opened his mouth to object but a loud crash interrupted him. Edward suspected that was Leon making his entrance. Subtly had never been his strong suit. 

“Shit bro, that’s Hunter. You can’t let him find you here, I’ll cover for you don’t worry” Edward said. Fear instantly burned in both their eyes. Without another word, they both sprinted into the night. Edward waited until they were a few streetlights away before he opened the makeshift gate. The quest “defeat lesser members” changed from 0/26 to 2/26. As Edward watched that number went up to 3/26 then 4/26, presumably thanks to Leon. Edward would have to work faster if he wanted to win their bet.

Inside the party was packed like sardines. Judging from Trent’s texts Edward had expected people to be clambering to get out by the door but most people still danced and drank, unaware that they had been unable to leave in the first place. Edward navigated his way through the backyard. It was then that Edward missed the invisibility of being ugly. The second he entered the party nearly everyone was all over him. Strangers started to grind up on him, offered him drinks, and tried to chat him up. It made moving through the crowd a nightmare. His perks didn’t help matters either. His pheromones caused the people flirting around him to progress to making out and caused those already making out to progress further into outright indecent behavior. Edward did his best to avoid skin-to-skin contact but it was inevitable in a crowd so packed, he heard several yelps as people suddenly felt orgasmic pleasure on their skin anywhere Edward’s hands accidentally. 

Eventually, Edward reached the bubble of relative calm around the projector screen. He saw Trent and Tag talking to each other in low voices by one side of the fence, clearly unaware that the way out was open now. Edward briefly thought about going over to them but he knew neither would recognize him and he didn't have time for lengthy explanations. He needed to get everyone out, and quick. 

Edward glanced and saw two more frat guys standing by the door to the house while four others worked on the projector, taping wires down to the ground that led inside the house. All six had names, classes, and levels above their heads. Edward stopped walking realizing if he could see their level then they could undoubtedly see his. Sure enough, a level nine Keg Commander started walking towards him briskly. He looked older and in charge, and Edward doubted he could resort to trickery to deal with him like before.

Edward ducked back into the crowd, hoping the chaos would obscure his floating name tag. No luck, the Keg Commander along with two other floating tags, a level six Crypto Bro, and a level seven Hype Beast moved towards him. Edward pushed his way through the crowd much less carefully this time. More couples, affected by his pheromones got nasty with each other right there in the backyard, which Edward hoped would make the chase more difficult for his pursuers.

Edward heard a crash from inside the house. He checked the counter to see it was now at 6/26. Edward hoped Leon was being safe. He heard another noise, like a loud bubbling. Edward risked a glance behind him and saw the level nine Keg Commander wave his hand over a beer keg, the thing started shaking violently before it took off into the air like a bottle rocket. 

“Shit” Edward yelled reflexively, diving sideways into a group of guys who all let out sounds of shock and moans of pleasure as Edward pressed up against them. Edward’s dodge hadn’t been necessary. The keg went wide, flying over the party and landing with a bang in the neighbor's yard, spraying the gathered crowd with beer as it flew.

Edward kept moving, circling back around to the wall of the house. Behind him, the hype beast was letting out loud whoops and hollers that seemed to be riling up the crowd even further. The music started to build up to a beat drop and people started to mosh making it even harder for Edward to move through the crowd. Edward spied the source of the music, a giant speaker, at least the height of his chest. One of the frat guys, a level five DJ stood by it, making strange motions with his hands which caused the music to change in volume rapidly in a nauseating way. A plan formed in Edward's mind, with only thirteen minutes left he needed to be bold.

Edward made his way towards the speaker, careful to avoid the Crypto Bro who tried to cut him off. Once he was close Edward rolled up his sleeve and dove out of the crowd, running for the plug connecting the speaker to the outlet. The DJ tried to grab at him but Edward twisted so that he grabbed his arm instead. The bare contact with his flesh and the intense pleasure that resulted from it was enough to cause the DJ to drop his grip. Edward grabbed the plug and yanked. The loud music suddenly cut off, and there was a second of silence as the whole party looked toward the speaker questioningly. Edward took advantage of that moment. He climbed on top of the speaker and screamed a word as loud as he could manage. 

“Flee” he yelled, the word echoing loud and powerful as he imbued it with the energy of his Silver Tongue technique. His energy pool which had fully regenerated in the hours he had spent with Leon now dropped to 14/19. 

The effect was immediate and jarring. Every single person at the party fled in a wave emanating from Edward. The exit quickly clogged as hundreds of people all tried to leave the party at once. Edward watched horrified at the stampede he had created as students pushed at each other to get out as if death itself were chasing after them. Some students in their haste to get out decided to climb the tall fence, jumping off it into the neighboring yards before continuing to run into the night. 

In a matter of seconds, the entire backyard was empty and silent. Edward stood on the speaker, amazed at his own power. Though he had feared someone might be trampled it seemed that everyone had gotten out safe at least. It was a good reminder to him though that he needed to be careful with this power. 

His words had caught up a fair number of the frat guys causing them to flee as well. The counter now read 15/26, though he wasn’t sure how many of those he could take credit for. Still, Edward suspected he was kicking Leon’s ass when it came to their bet. He also noted that the quest item “Put a stop to the legion’s plans” was still marked as incomplete, meaning whatever it was they were planning involved more than just trapping students in their backyard. Edward thought of the love potion again and felt a nauseating mix of hope and guilt.  

Edward didn't have long to revel in his victory. From the second floor, he heard another loud crash then the unmistakable sound of an Owl’s hoot, or Leon’s best attempt at one, in truth it sounded more like a fart noise.

In a second Edward was off the speaker and racing toward the house. He entered a side door into the kitchen. Six low-level frat guys were inside, protected from Edward’s ability by the thick glass door. All of them were looking at the empty backyard in shock. They were even more shocked when the level eleven Snake charmer ran in. 

Edward didn’t have a thought in his head except the safety of his best friend. “Defend me,” he said, embossing the words with another ten of his remaining energy points, leaving him with only four more. Instantly the frat guy's faces went from confused to blank as they robotically followed him into the hallway and up the stairs as Edward followed where the wires connecting to the project screen led.

Edward raced upwards two stairs at a time towards the sounds of voices and struggles. A circle of frat guys, most of them level ten or higher encircled the kneeling form of Leon. Two purple and white bands bound both of Leon's wrists to the floor despite the obvious effort he was exerting to free himself.  A level fourteen Pledge Master with a sinister look to him held a red solo cup to Leon’s lips and was saying something in a low scolding voice too soft for Edward to hear with all the blood rushing in his ears.

Edward let out a yell as he and his frat protectors charged forward in the doomed defense of his best friend.

-

Leon strained at the colorful bamboo restraints binding him to the floor. The harder he struggled the tighter the traps bound him. He activated his Inner Strength ability and wrenched upwards, it was a bad idea. The sudden burst of strength was redoubled against him and he was forced to his knees, naked body beginning to sweat with the effort. Above him the level thirteen Prankster laughed. He had the same flawless complexion as Edward that indicated a high charisma, only his features looked mischievous and impish, nothing like the kind angelic features of his friend. 

Leon still found it hard to believe that god of a man he had slept with was Edward. And yet when he looked hard he could see the resemblance. His eyes had the same gentle genuineness in them, his lips, now thick and oh so kissable, still twitched the same way when he wanted to laugh but was trying to be serious. 

The Prankster above Edward let out a laugh that bordered on deranged as he watched Leon struggle. He and his other two frat brothers circled around Leon, a level ten Drug Pusher, and a level eleven Vape Mage, moved aside for a new figure. This one, a tall skinny man with dark hair and dark handsome features that made it clear he was also a charisma class, walked forward. His dark perfect eyebrows arched sharply, making him look like a cartoon villain. The floating name tag above him listed him as a level fourteen Pledge Master. Leon recognized him as one of them men who had been with Hunter earlier that day during the with the Dagorhir players, thought he hadn’t been nearly so handsome or intimidating when they had first clashed. Those events now felt like a lifetime ago. 

His hands glowed with an eerie brown light then a red solo cup appeared in them, full of a sloshing brown liquid inside Leon didn’t think was beer. “We have a new pledge I see. Hunter told me to watch out for you.” He took a step closer and a strange aura washed over Leon, he suddenly felt as if he would do anything this man told him to. It made him sick, nothing like the warm feeling he got from being around Edward. “You can join our frat if that's what you really want, but first don’t you know that new pledges have to suffer.” 

Leon blanched. He hoped Edward hadn’t heard the bird sound he had made when he was first trapped. He hoped Edward would escape now while he could. These frat guys were too powerful, too high-level. Leon had no idea how they had managed to gain so much experience in such little time. They must have received their classes after Leon and Edward had and yet even the two Leon had faced downstairs had been nearly his equal in level.

Leon supposed he and Edward could have been faster if they had been more efficient, and hadn’t spent several hours fucking like bunnies. Still, if those were to be Leon’s last moments on earth he was endlessly glad at how he spent them. He only wished he had told Edward how he felt, though that would require him to first understand what it was he felt, which was mostly confused.

Since the day they met in freshman orientation, Edward had been his best friend, his partner in everything. There had never been even a hint of anything more though. Leon was straight and Edward wasn’t interested in him besides. Now their dynamic had shifted. For Leon it wasn’t so much a big deal he had slept with a man, sure that was new, but his attraction for Edward burned just as bright, if not brighter than any he had for a woman. The part that was making him so on edge was the fact that it was with Edward. 

Leon knew with the way Edward now looked he could have any man he wanted. There would be no reason for him to want anything more than something physical with Leon. And yet Leon could swear that he saw something more than lust in those expressive eyes. He knew it was probably wishful thinking.

It wasn’t particularly worth dwelling on though, considering Leon’s current predicament. He had been so cocky when he had first entered the house. The door had been locked but a quick Inner Strength-enhanced kick busted the thing wide open.

Inside were two frat pledges, just sitting in the entranceway as if they had been expecting him, one, a level eight Louisville Slugger gripped a wooden baseball bat in his hand. The wood was a strange ashen gray as if it had been petrified to stone. The level eight swung his bat hard into the side of Leon’s face.

Leon’s whole skull rung like a bell as the bat that felt more like stone then wood bounded off his armored skull. The man moved to swing again but Leon took a step forward and shaved the man causing him to crash back into the stairwell. The other guard, a level six Tattletale made no move to attack, instead he opened his mouth, and a grating blaring almost robotic alarm came out, filling the whole house. Leon dashed forward and slammed his hand over the man's mouth, muffling the sound but not cutting it off. Leon wrapped his hand around the man's throat and squeezed, careful not to be too rough with his prodigious strength. Within seconds the Tattletale was unconscious. Leon made sure the man was still breathing before moving out of the entranceway. The counter was now at 4/26, meaning he and Edward were tied. Leon needed to move fast if he wanted to win and get another of those life altering blowjobs from Edward. 

Still he paid one last glance at the two unconscious men and noticed something odd. Both of them seemed to be changing, shrinking. The level nine Louisville Slugger was a muscular dude, tall and clearly athletic. Yet as Leon watched the guy's muscles deflated and he shrunk in height. The level above his head changed to seven to six counting down to level one as his stats drained away. Finally, as the guy started to look plainly average his class switched to one called a “Wretch” and he was defeated further, losing muscle height and likely some charisma based on the way his face twisted unattractively and broke out with acne. The Tattletale also lost much of his charisma-enhanced beauty and became an equally pathetic level-one wretch with his friend. Leon flashed back to the note about the quest being a correctional one. He supposed the two were considered defeated and therefore suffered the punishment of failing the quest. It was a horrifying fate. Leon imagined the muscles and perks he had so come to enjoy draining away and found the thought terrifying. He couldn’t go back to his old life, he wouldn’t.

Both the Tattletale, and the load noise of kicking in the door, had ruined any chance of surprise Leon might have had. He assumed other members of the frat would soon come to investigate the noise, meaning he needed to move. Leon wasn’t exactly sure where though, several hallways with bedroom doors on either side connected to the entranceway, along with hallways connecting to a massive kitchen and eating area that ran along the back of the house. A large lounge for hosting parties or doing school work was to Leon's right, and a set of stairs right in front of him led upwards, presumably to more rooms and potentially another lounge or hang-out area. Leon wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking for, either of the bosses he supposed. He poked around a few of the hallways but they were all abandoned and all the doors were locked. Eventually, Leon decided he should go upstairs. 

That was where the trouble started. Up the stairs, there was a long landing that let off to lots more rooms. In the hallway stood four older-looking frat brothers, all with classes and levels above ten. The Prankster and the Drug Pusher noticed him first, while the Vape Mage, and level twelve Beer Pong Champion stood with their backs to him.

Leon didn’t wait for any of them to react. He rushed forward and shoved the Beer Pong Champion hard. The man went flying into a wall behind. The attack caused Leon to come into proximity with the Drug Pusher which caused his head to start to feel funny, like he was drunk and high at the same time. The effect was unbalancing enough that the Prankster was able to grab his hand. He activated some sort of ability or technique and suddenly through his hand waves of  painful electricity washed through Leon’s whole body. It felt like one of those prank hand buzzers only one hundred times more powerful. His whole body shook, completely unprotected by his armored skin. Leon was too stunned to react as the Prankster used yet another ability on him which caused those bamboo restraints he currently struggled against to bind him to the floor. Leon struggled for a few seconds before he spotted an open window that faced the backyard and made his best approximation of a bird call. 

The three frat guys looked at him funny but they were too cocky with the thrill of their catch that they didn’t seem to care. They called out for the pledge master who came out of a hallway a few moments later. Now Leon looked up at his eerily perfect face and felt a wave of revulsion and loyalty at the same time.

“Let go of him!” Leon snapped his head away from the frat guy's face as he heard a familiar voice yell.  Edward raced up the stairs trailed by six frat guys all also running. Leon could only watch as Edward flung himself at the Pledge Master, skinny body bringing the other man to the ground. To Leon’s surprise, the frat guys who Leon had assumed were chasing Edward rushed into his air, charging their own comrades with first and foot and claw in the case of one guy with the Party Animal class who turned into a puma wearing a party hat before Leon's very eyes. The Vape Mage opened his mouth and a stream of light pink smoke emerged, quickly filling the room and limiting Leon’s slight to only the area directly around him. 

Leon could just make out as the Pledge Master flipped Edward onto his back, pinning him. Edward brought one hand up to rest upon the Pledge Master’s cheek almost lovingly. The man screamed out in orgasmic pleasure and Edward used that moment to break free of his hold and flip him onto his back, the two disappearing from view into the cloud of cotton candy-smelling vape. 

Around him, Edward’s frat guys fought against their own compatriots. Though they had the numbers advantage they were younger, and less high-level, lacking the truly influential perks and abilities to match their opponents. Leon continued to struggle in vain, wanting desperately to join the fight and come to his friend's air.

Edward’s presence was like a strong clean gust of wind, clearing away the other aura and effects that had been clouding Leon’s thoughts, allowing him to think clearly for the first time since he had been trapped. He took a deep breath of the cotton candy fog. All of these classes were thematic. The ability he was trapped in was from the Prankster class, which meant it had something to do with pranks. Leon looked down at the colorful interlocking bamboo pattern of the trap and realized it looked familiar. It reminded him of those Chinese finger traps sold for tickets at arcades or behind glass counters at roller rinks. The trick to those was simple, the harder you pulled the tighter it bound. All Leon had to do was relax. He let his arms fall loose and felt the bounds on his wrist loosen, he relaxed further and suddenly he was free. 

Leon swung about in the cloud of cotton candy smoke. He caught a brief glimpse of a few different frat guys fighting with each other but in the chaos, Leon couldn’t tell which were friends and which were foes. He needed to find Edward. 

At level eleven Leon’s Inner Strength cooldown was at 109 seconds. Though he has used it to try to escape the countdown was almost up. Leon waited the last few seconds then activated the ability, feeling strength surge into his body. Leon splayed his large hands wide, admiring his now considerable wing span, then brought his palms them together with a colossal force that would have likely broken both his hands if not for his armored skin. 

A loud boom shook the room and a pressurized gust of air ripped from his hands. The force wasn’t enough to do more than startle any of the men fighting each other on the ground but it was enough to temporarily clear away the lingering vape cloud in the room. 

Leon instantly spied the Pledge Master and Edward struggling near the stairs, the Pledge Master sat on top of Edward using some ability that made his hands glow brown and seemed to have paralyzed Edward. Leon wasn’t capable of feeling fear anymore but he felt something distinctly like it as he saw his friend helpless on the ground, that and a bubbling red rage he had never felt. As the room once again filled with smoke from the Vape Mage’s mouth Leon rushed towards the pair. He ripped the scrawny Pledge Master off of Edward’s body as easily as he would lift an insect and flung him down the stairs. The man tumbled down, sprawling at the bottom in a heap, out of the fight but still breathing. Leon watched the first level tick away and knew he would soon become a harmless wretch. 

From the ground, Edward looked at him with a mix of awe, fear, and relief. Slowly he regained control of his limbs and then sat up and wrapped his arms around Leon, squeezing tightly onto Leon’s muscular back. Leon laughed feeling an overwhelming flood of relief. He hugged his friend back tight, not caring that the skin-to-skin contact made his naked dick instantly hard. 

Leon continued the embrace until he felt something bounce off his butt. He turned around to see the Beer Pong Master, who he had thought was out of the fight, lift his hand and shoot a ping pong ball out of it with considerable force. More and more shot out in a jet towards the two friends. Leon positioned himself to block Edward from the barrage. The plastic balls stung but his Armored Skin prevented them from doing any real damage. Leon rushed forward and delivered a hard punch to the gut that finally defeated the man who began to turn into a wretch as well. The counter was now at 21/26. Whatever Edward had done outside and to control those guys had taken out a majority of the lesser frat guys. Leon was so relieved that he didn't even care he was losing the bet. He would be glad to give him friend a blowjob if they lived long enough for that.

The pink fog slowly began to clear and he and Edward were left facing down the remaining five frat guys. Edward’s method of control seemed to have warned off and the two remaining, a level seven Party Animal and a level nine Bully looked pissed. Leon readied himself for a fight. He didn't relish the idea of being mauled even with his armored skin but he would do it to protect Edward.

He was spared the trouble. A beam of purple energy shot from Edward’s hand and into the Party Animal. The frat guy's eyes glowed the same purple shade for a second, then he adopted a look of pure horror and ran right past him and Edward down the stairs, a visible wet spot in his pants. Edward had told him about his new emotion bomb ability but he hadn’t known it would be so potent.

Not wasting the opportunity Leon raced forward and quickly subdued the Vape Mage with a punch, then the Drug Pusher with a knee to the chest, then did a quick uppercut which finished off the Bully who went down to the ground groaning as he slowly became a level one wretch.

That left Edward and Leon facing only the Prankster. The sinister-looking man tried the same hand buzzer trick on Leon again but this time he was ready. He grabbed the man's hand and slapped it onto the guy's own chest causing him to electrocute himself instead. 

Finally, alone Leon and Edward stood in trashed hallways breathing heavily. Edward had a small cut on his arm and a blossoming bruise on his perfect symmetrical cheek which gave his handsomeness a rugged quality, a quality broken by his wide innocent grin. “So you want to suck my dick now or later?”

The quest marked itself up to 26/26 and he and Edward both heard a ding as they leveled up. 

“You have reached level twelve. You receive attribute points based on your class: +3 Strength, +1 Charisma, + 0.3 Intelligence.” 

“You have gained a class perk.”

“Punchable Face: If moved to sufficient hostility, creatures are more likely to attack you than your allies. Note: This effect scales off both Strength and Charisma. Note: Creatures with higher intelligence will be more resistant to the effects of this perk.”

Leon felt the now familiar feeling of leveling up as each of his attributes increased. The intelligence gains Leon got at each level were too small to be perceptible, though he supposed he noticed a small difference now that he had an 11.3 compared to his previous base of 8. His charisma boosts per level were larger, though also hard to exactly quantify. When Leon had looked hard in the mirror he had been able to pick out ways his face was a bit more handsome than it had been, thought it was hard though to know what was due to his charisma boosts and what was from the changes to his body composition. Still, his eyes were brighter, his features more symmetrical, and his skin clearer than it had ever been before. Despite gaining twelve points Leon didn't feel like he had gained Edward’s easy effortless charm, though his jokes that always sounded so funny in his head but never when he said them out loud did seem to be landing more frequently and he was starting to pick up on social cues that would have once flown over his head. This level up Leon actually did think he could feel something shifting in his face though he chalked it up to placebo. 

His strength though Leon was sure he could feel. His body stretched another quarter of an inch taller, and he gained another five pounds of muscle, all packed evenly onto his body. Though he didn't store fat according to his Metabolizer perk his muscles didn't have the dehydrated malnourished look of extremely low body fat. Instead, they all looked full and strong, tight on his dark skin. His biceps were like softballs, his legs were becoming thick as tree trunks, and his abs seemed to only get tighter, six-pack verging on an eight-pack. 

Besides him, he saw Edward experience a level-up. It was the first time he had actually witnessed it, last time he had been too busy fucking his friend's ass to see. Now he watched as Edward's already perfect features became somehow more perfect. Leon had thought his skin was flawless before but it now took on a somehow otherworldly shine. His teeth became blindingly white and even straighter, making the grin he shot Leon somehow more adorable and endlessly distracting. His jaw looked like it could open a beer bottle and his hair was so gold it could be spun from hay. Watching his friend change mixed with the proximity to Edward’s pheromones made Leon hard, his massive penis springing forth with the velocity of a jouster.

Leon opened his mouth and then closed it. Edward's beauty had always been distracting before but now he was stunned stupid by his charisma. The act of talking seemed too complex when he looked at Edward so he just sort of moaned and drooled a little. 

Edward had that far-off look that meant he was reading his notifications. He looked up and laughed at Leon’s cross-eyed expression. “Oh god. That’s my new perk.”

“New perk?” Leon asked. His face was all but paralyzed which made his words come out slurred and almost unintelligible. This only made Edward laugh harder. 

“It's called Dazzling Presence. Apparently, it gets less effective the more time you're around me.” Leon felt himself slowly come back to earth, though not fully. He found it intensely difficult to look away from Edward or think in more than caveman “me horny” thoughts.

“I think it's supposed to temporarily stun people when I first interact with them to give me the upper hand. It should wear off soon. Edward squinted his eyes as if he suddenly noticed something, he took a step forward so their faces were only inches apart, a move that was not helpful in Leon’s attempts to break free from his horny hypnotic state. “Oh my god your face!” Edward started laughing again, harder than before.

“What's wrong with my face?” Leon asked concerned. “I got a perk called punchable face.”

“Punchable face?” Edward asked still laughing. “More like a kissable face,” he leaned in and pecked Leon on the lips, the touch making Leon somehow harder. “Go look at yourself in a mirror.”

Leon had enough control now to hobble to one of the communal bathrooms, he stepped over a groaning unconscious level-one wretch, maybe a man who had been the Vape Mage or the Drug Pusher, it was hard to tell them apart now. In the glow of the automatic lights, Leon saw what Edward had meant. He groaned to himself. He had a serious case of Jock Face. He looked like a cartoon high school bully, with thick eyebrows, a broad forehead, head the shape of a square. The mustache he now had was not helping. Small dark beard hairs had already started to grow on his cheeks making him look like a dad coaching little league baseball who took the game too seriously. Leon felt the urge to punch his own reflection.

“It's not that bad” Edward called from the hall, knowing what his friend's reaction would be.

“I look like a Neanderthal!” Leon shouted back. His body was one thing but he had never expected this class to affect his face so much. 

“No, you don’t!” Edward said encouragingly coming into the bathroom to stand beside his friend. “I think it’s fitting. You look like a sexy Viking.”

Leon turned to look at Edward. His presence was still extremely distracting but Leon could now at least have a conversation with his friend. “It's worth it I guess. The perk says people are more likely to attack me now than you.”

Edward rolled his eyes. “Alright, knight in shining armor. If I remember correctly you were the damsel in distress.” 

“Yeah,” Leon said awkwardly color flushing his cheeks, the blush looking strange on his now hyper masculine face. “I’m sorry about that, I got overconfident.”

“No I’m sorry,” Edward said grabbing Leon’s hand in his own. “I sent you in there alone. That was stupid of me, from now on we stick together.”

Leon nodded wordlessly, unable to get anything past the lump in his throat. He didn’t know exactly what he was feeling, not fear, he wasn’t capable of feeling fear but he still felt anxiety and guilt and a deep love for his friend. Suddenly he felt it all crash down on him. Everything that had happened in the past ten hours. Even with his Animal endurance perk Leon was exhausted. He realized he hadn’t eaten since that one protein shake so many hours ago. He couldn’t imagine how Edward felt.

Leon glanced at the countdown timer and felt his heart skip a beat as he saw they only had eight minutes left. There would be time to talk to Edward about what he was feeling and where their friendship stood after they completed the quest. 

The main hallway on the second floor led to a set of large wooden double doors. Leon was ready to kick them down but they were unlocked. He poked his head in and wasn’t quite sure what he was seeing. There was a large room, obviously meant for holding mixers and formals. A long bar sat on one end of the room, a dance floor near it. Leon’s attention however was more focused on the contraption directly in front of him. 

It looked like a doomsday device out of a science fiction B movie. A mishmash of repurposed tech and scrap metal welded into a crude but ominous tower of technology. Strips of LED screens, ripped from discarded tablets and smartphones, lined the upper frame, flickering in erratic patterns, casting eerie reflections off the exposed metal. At its core was the familiar “Altered State” video game cartridge, nestled in a nest of wires and circuits that branched out to hacked Wi-Fi routers and a jury-rigged motherboard, all held together by zip ties, duct tape and sheer ingenuity. A large fully extended TV antenna was on the top of the contraption which buzzed and pulsed every few seconds with electricity. Leon hadn’t a single clue that the machine did but it looked intensely complex and dangerous. He had played enough video games to know that to complete the quest he and Edward probably had to destroy the thing. 

There was something else in the room that caught Leon’s eye. A figure paced back and forth in front of the machine, snorting and grunting occasionally as he moved. Leon had seen a lot that had challenged his understanding of reality today but the name tag above the creature's head sent him reeling. Hunter, level seventeen Roided Out Berserker. The Frat president was unrecognizable. He had always been a large man but Hunter now was a giant, eight feet tall, muscles like swollen overly ripe fruit, huge and crawling with protruding veins that looked like worms, glowing a sickly green. He was naked with an inhumanly large penis and a matching set of balls hanging in-between thickly muscled massive hairy legs. His arms were like veiny boulders, his neck a thick stump, and he had a massive roid gut ballooning out his belly.

His face, never particularly handsome was now a twisted mask of permanent anger, more animal than man, and the spark of cruel intelligence that once lived behind his eyes was gone replaced by a feral mindlessness. 

Quietly as he could Leon closed the door and pulled Edward away from it. He relayed what he had seen much to Edward's disbelief. 

Edward’s disbelief grew as Leon told him his hastily constructed plan. “Didn’t I just say we were going to stick together? You're going to get yourself killed if you go in there alone,” Edward insisted trying to talk him out of it. 

“It’s the only way. Besides you can always step in and save me like before,” Leon joked trying to ease his friend's tension. He wasn’t sure if his confidence was warranted or if it was reckless arrogance from his No Fear perk but he just knew he couldn’t bear to see his friend in danger again. Before Edward could further talk him out of it he walked over to a window and ripped down the ratty red curtain, then he marched back over to the set of doors and got ready to open them. “Be safe” Edward said looking at him with those deep soulful eyes.

“I will,” Leon said back tenderly. He wanted to say more, to sweep Edward off his feet and kiss him but the timer was at six minuets. There would be time after if he survived. Besides if they did this right his quest reward might just help Leon show Edward exactly how much he meant to him.

Leon burst through the double doors, red fabric trailing behind him like a cape. “Hey Hunter you ugly motherfucker. They say imitation is the more sincere form of flattery, but I think for you it might just be fattery.” The joke didn't actually make any sense but Leon stopped for a second to admire his on-the-spot wordplay. Maybe his higher charisma was having more of an effect than he had thought. 

Hunter growled and snorted like a bull, staring at Leon with undigested loathing as Leon entered the room. “Me fucking kill you.” He said in deep halting English, like he was Frankenstein’s monster. He and Leon started circling each other like two cats in an ally waiting to pounce. Leon’s new Punchable face perk ensured that Hunter kept his attention on him and not Edward not so subtly head peaking through the doorway. Leon hoped if Hunter did decide to go for Edward he would be stunned by the Snake Charmer's new perk but even so, he was determined to keep the Berserkers attention on himself. Leon waited until he had circled the whole room and his back was to the machine before he shouted.

“Now!” Due to the fast regeneration from his high charisma Edward had regenerated just enough energy points to perform one last Emotion Bomb. A beam of red energy leaped out from his hand, striking Hunter from behind and causing his eyes to glow red for a split second.

Any human part of Hunter left died at the moment as he was overcome by an overwhelming wave of anger and became fully animal in his desire to kill Leon. That was the result Leon was hoping for. He knew he wasn’t stronger then Hunter but he could hopefully be smarter, if he survived long enough. Hunter charged forward hands extended to tear Leon apart. Leon flourished the red fabric in front of him like a matador before jumping away at the last second to avoid the man’s charge.

As Leon had hoped Hunter charged straight into the device Leon had been standing behind. The whole contraption shook with the force, small electrical bits falling off the side. A few of the more ominous-looking red wires connecting to the game disk in the center disconnected but the contraption maintained its structural integrity. Hunter recovered and had somehow grown angrier. Leon flourished the red cape and began to circle again trying to lead Hunter into another charge at the machine. He shouldn’t have known it wouldn’t be so simple.

Hunter activated an ability. It was one similar to Leon’s own Size Up ability except rather than growing in overall proportional size the ability only affected Hunter’s muscles. The veins prominent on his body grew a brighter shade of green for a moment then each one of Hunter’s muscles ballooned to inhuman size, making the man even more grotesque. His dick grew to at least three feet in length and likely would have brushed the floor if it didn't become erect. 

Leon hoped the sudden growth might have decrease the big man's speed but it seemed the opposite was true. Hunter charged at him like a bullet and Leon just barely jumped aside at the last second.

As Leon’s plan crumbled to dust he realized once again Edward had been right. His plan, lure Hunter into charging at the device, toppling the contraption and trapping his foe all in one ironic blow, was a stupid one. The device at the center of the room was large but not nearly large enough to keep the now colossal Hunter pinned. Leon suddenly felt like David facing Goliath without a sling. Still, he had to look as if he was in control lest Edward rush in and do something stupid. Leon at least had a chance against the massive Hunter, but Edward would be trampled in seconds with his unenhanced strength. 

Leon shot Edward’s worried face peeking through the door a cocky wink and gave his makeshift red muleta a showman-like shake. He thought briefly about activating his own size-enhancing ability and decided agains it, he couldn’t overpower Hunter, not when the man had five levels on him. Sizing up would only make him a easier target and the last thing he needed was to get pinned down.

Hunter charged again. This time Leon moved too late, though he dodged Hunter’s attempt to grapple him he was clipped by Hunter's shoulder as he spun away. The slight contact was enough to send Leon skidding across the smooth wooden floors like a rag doll. 

He had no time to recover from the crushing blow. From the floor, he heard the sound of rushing feet. On instinct, Leon activated his Inner Strength ability and launched himself into the air just in time to soar over a rapid charge from Hunter. With momentum and reflexes of the ability, he flipped once in the air before landing on his feet, crouched low next to a windowed wall ready for Hunter’s next attack. The loss of his only safety net for the next 108 seconds would have made him fearful if he could still be. Instead, it made him focused, and ready. In the tumble, he had lost a scrap of red fabric, and seriously injured his left shoulder even through his armored skin. He tried to move his arm and felt a shooting pain, dislocated or broken he couldn’t tell which. He would have to hope his animal endurance would heal it soon. 

Hunter’s charge that Leon had dodged taken him right into the far wall and he had gone through it, revealing a messy bedroom on the other side. Leon guessed that once he started charging it was hard for him to stop. Maybe his original plan had some merit after all. 

Hunter turned back around eyes insane with rage, spit flying from his mouth as he screamed and grunted unintelligibly. For a moment Leon felt bad for what this game had done for him but then he remembered how Hunter had been in life and felt the pity leave him. “Hey, Cassie just called and she said she didn't want to date an Incredible Hulk knockoffs.” Leon wasn’t sure if it was just the loud noise attracting Hunter attention or if the beast could accurately process the jab thrown his relationship. Either way he charged big bare feet tearing up the floor as he rushed at Leon with inhuman speed.

Leon took a deep breath, crossed his fingers, and gave one final wink to Edward, hoping his friend would remember him fondly if this didn't work out, then he ducked and rolled.

Hunter sprung like a cobra. If Leon had still been there the hit would have broken every bone in his body. Leon however was not there, and instead, Hunter charged right into the wall. It was a testament to his strength that he took nearly the whole side of the second floor with him, glass, drywall, bricks, and electrical wires all fell down in a shower of debris as Hunter fell to the dark ground below. Leon had to throw himself forward so as not to go down with the collapsing floor under his feet. He heard a crash then a slash then silence. 

Edward rushed forward and the two of them peered through the giant hole in the house to the yard below. Hunter lay with his swollen belly up floating in the frat's outdoor hot tub, his body having crashed through the tiled roof of the hot tub like paper. Leon watched as Hunter shrunk, first as his ability ran out then as the levels fell away. Hunter began to look like himself again before shrinking further into a scrawny ugly thing labeled as a level one wretch. The quest “Defeat Legion boss” updated itself to 1/2, though the “Stop the Legion’s plans” still remained at 0/1 which was concerning.

“That was amazing,” Edward said voice tender. He looked down at Leon’s shoulder and sucked in a breath. “Does it hurt?”

Leon looked down and winced at the way his muscular shoulder was twisted at an unnatural angle. “Yeah” he answered truthfully laughing weakly. Leon took a deep breath and prepared to pop his shoulder back into place. He didn’t feel fear but he still felt pain.

Edward stopped “may I?” He asked reaching out his hands. Leon nodded and Edward placed his hand on the hard dark metallic surface of his skin. Instantly the pain was replaced with an orgasmic pleasure that felt warm and intensely comforting. Gently at first then harder when Leon didn't flinch Edward wrenched Leon’s shoulder back into its socket. 

Leon smiled up at him. “Thanks,” he said simply, he was too tired to think of a joke or anything more to say. 

“I should be thanking you,” Edward said cheeks flushing. The two of them weren’t normally like this. They normally teased each other like brothers and let the mutual love they had for each other go unspoken. Now all the changes had them flitting about like scared middle schoolers. Leon wanted to wrap Edward up in a big hug and tell him it was alright but it was clear his friend had more to say. 

“Look I know this might not be the time, but I have something to tell you,” Edward said. Leon still found it hard to do anything but think about fucking when he was around Edward but he sensed his friend was serious and tried to pay attention. “I know everything is happening so fast, and our relationship just became physical which I feel bad about. I really didn’t know it was you I promise, but well I like you Leon, I have always liked you and not just in a friend way or a sexual way but also like you in a -“

Leon blinked and suddenly his friend was gone. He heard a faint scream getting more distant. His brain took an embarrassingly long time to process what had just happened. Edward had been right in front of him saying, well Leon couldn’t bring himself to think about what Edward was going to say, when he was ripped through the hole in the wall. Something metal had grabbed him around the waist and hoisted him into the air like a fish on a line.

Leon rushed to the opening and couldn’t quite believe what he saw. On the street a giant thing had Edward in its hand, no claw. It was a machine Leon realized. It looked like it was made from a refrigerator, parts of a playground and a car, all deconstructed and reconstructed into a giant vaguely humanoid mech. Leon felt his blood boil as he saw a red bumper with a familiar license plate. Mother fucker had made his car into a mech. 

Leon’s rage continued to build as he saw Edward struggling to get free. His friend was saying something to the person inside but he was too far for him to hear. Leon looked back at the machine still humming behind him. He grabbed a loose brick from the rubble of the caved-in wall then hurled it at the center motherboard as hard as he could, hoping that would put a stop to whatever the contraptions purpose was. Then he activated his Size Up ability, growing 70% his original size, spine expanding, pecs ballooning, legs growing longer and thicker, penis growing to well over a foot long. His strength doubled and Leon for the first time felt the intoxicating rush of true power. He knew he now had to be one of the strongest man on the entire planet. Leon needed more. He activated his inner strength ability, taking his already monstrous strength to godly levels if but for a moment. Leon bent his legs and then jumped into the cold dark night cracking the floor underneath his feet. He sailed in a long ark landing just behind the mech with a powerful earth shaking impact.

The street outside was cold but his blood boiled hot. Leon couldn’t make out the face of the mech’s driver but he could see the name tag floating above its head, "Alvis, Level 22 Technocrat.” Leon smiled humorlessly and balled up his hands into fists now the size of thanksgiving turkeys. He was going to get back his roommate, his best friend, even if he had to rip apart his other roommate and every machine in the whole city to do so.

[springsylph]

WITCHING HOUR, CH 2/3 — [18+]

(18+) - MARKED FOR EVENTUAL SMUT, MINORS DNI!

fem!reader x arthur morgan

summary: the prodigal son returns tags: marked 18+ for smut in later chapters, reader has a backstory kinda (but now a little more than kinda), original side character(s), does arthur count as a tag, he needs his own warning, its more exposition please don't leave

word count: 4.9k

a/n: HERE! DAMN! (i'm so sorry this took so long)

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you can find a link to the playlist here! tag list (look how crazy. i have a LIST.): @photo1030

The subsequent mornings are painted with varying shades of gloom. It was smeared over the sky in thick coats, and if it was just a little thicker, it might be able to keep out the spears of light. 

Sometimes, they tickle. Sometimes, they recoil from the rigid mounds of snow and blind you and anything else unfortunate enough to get caught in the line of fire. Pain in the ass, really. A particularly nasty pain in the ass flickers in the cloudy metal of your spoon one morning while you’re shoveling grits into your mouth.

“You planning on eating the table too, kid?”

Your eyebrows shoot up, as does your spine once you lower your spoon back into the chipped bowl. 

“My apologies,” you gulp. “You’ll uh, have to forgive me, Mrs. Campbell. Seems the winter air’s gotten to my head.”  

Mrs. Campbell was a wiry, dark-haired woman of 63, and had spent more time rearing cattle than children. She was rough, tough, and at present, leveling you with a stare so doubtful that you wonder if the look you often catch on the livestock is embarrassment. 

After holding your gaze for a few moments more, she resumes the rocking of her chair from the corner and returns to her darning. A large red sock, the same one she’d whacked Mr. Campbell over the head with after she’d found it on the floor of the living room only thirty minutes ago.

“No, no, you’re alright.” Mrs. Campbell pauses, though her hands continue to work. Under, over. In, out. Not a single finger pricked. “Think that’s the most I’ve seen you take down in one sitting, is all. You bite like a bird.” She makes a funny chewing motion with her mouth—or, at least you think it’s supposed to be funny. It seems to amuse her well enough; most strange things did. 

She then asks how much horse feed is left, and you tell her enough to last for the next two weeks. You ask how her daughter’s baby boy is doing, she tells you he’s been picking his nose, and the two of you return to your respective distractions: the pulling of thread and a spoon fishing around a now empty dish while you consult silently with the peeling floral wallpaper. 

Arthur Morgan’s appearance had set you on edge, loathe as you were to admit it. The fact that there’d been no sign of him since you’d first spoken only hastened the growing dread, more so than the lack of response after your father’s men had been so kindly disposed of. 

Contingencies had been thoroughly accounted for, leaving you mildly inconvenienced at best and dead at worst. There were other conclusions you’d drawn up, of course, but dealing in extremes had its benefits.

You press your thumb absentmindedly into the corner of the dining room table. Could the Campbells have heard your exchange? No, they couldn’t have, too old. And that was excluding the fact that the main house was rather far from the cabin. Given the time frame, it would have been well beyond what was reasonable for your…situation to have been brought up. 

Besides, this was important. Better to sort this out now than when—if—he showed up at your doorstep again.

“I have a question.”

Mrs. Campbell snorts. “I presume you’re lookin’ for an answer.”

You set your spoon down, and stand to clear the table. “Do the two of you get…stray cats often?”

This time her hands waver. “During the warmer months, sure. But in this weather? I mean, if it had the guts to get through all that ‘winter air,’ I don’t see why not.” Her eyes flick up. “Would have to be real hungry, though. Or stupid, which I doubt, ‘cause cats ain’t stupid—sonuvabitch!” 

You jerk as her needle clatters to the floor. She lets a curse slip as she hunches over to retrieve it; another follows as she tugs the string loose, just a little, and her fingers trip over themselves before falling back into a steady rhythm. 

Her brows pinch in concentration. “Never met a stupid cat,” she repeats.

“I…I see.” Moving around to the other side of the table to collect what's left, you frown when you catch your warped reflection in a bent spoon. You pick it up, and your fingers brush over the bump unconsciously. “I saw one,” you say slowly. Mind fumbling over any disastrous outcomes. “A cat, I mean. He’s been hanging around my cabin for a while now. I was only asking ‘cause he’s been spooking the chickens.”

When Mrs. Campbell doesn’t answer, your mouth gets the better of you. “Only, he turned up again a couple nights ago. Acting real docile, you see.” Not docile. The farthest thing from it. “Nearly shot him then and there, but—oh, he just looked so pitiful! He’s real mean looking, all scratched up and such, but I was tired, so when shooing him off didn’t work I let him in. Didn’t hiss, didn’t bite, nothing. But, I think I may have scared him. Skittered right out the door, quick as lightning. He’s been pissin’ me off—pardon my language—but, I just don’t see why he’d go through all that trouble to show up if he was just looking to leave the moment I raised so much as a finger.”

You only cease your rambling once you realize that you’ve bent the spoon too far in the wrong direction. “I…should turn him away, shouldn’t I? If he shows up again?”

Mrs. Campbell lets out an exasperated exhale, smooths out her apron, and sets her mangled sock down in her lap. “He kill any chickens?”

“No, but—”

“You feed him?”

“No?”

“Well, I think you should. It’d be real funny.”

Funny. Funny, she’d said. 

You look to the silverware for consolation, but they can only produce a weak gleam.

“Quit making faces at my utensils, I hate when you do that. If you got something to say, say it now so I can finish this damned sock.”

Instead of making faces at the spoons, you reserve them for the tablecloth. “I just—don’t think it’d be wise.” A wanted man, with a lofty bounty at that, and you were comparing him to a mangy feline. Attempting to see him as anything other than what he so obviously was would be disingenuous. 

And maybe Mrs. Campbell wasn’t the right person to be speaking to about this, because her nose crinkles with such distaste that you have to remind yourself that you’d remembered to bathe. “You’re grown,” she says, “and you work here. I’m inclined to believe that you have enough know-how to keep yourself from doing anything too dumb. If not, oh well.”

“…Right.”

Sometimes you wonder if her daughter had moved out not for marriage, but to escape Mrs. Campbell’s dreadfully indifferent way of speaking. Still, you take her words with relative care and pray that the “feeding” portion of her advice can be altered into something much more metaphorical.

When you attempt to bring the dishes to the water bucket, Mrs. Campbell’s head snaps to you and she clicks her teeth. “Drop it.”

“I was just—”

The sock finds its way into a basket of other half-finished projects at her feet, and she pushes herself up to stand just as tall (if not taller) than any tree before snatching the dishes from your hands. “I don’t pay you to do my dishes, girl.”

You smile. “I don’t believe you pay me at all, Mrs. Campbell.”

“Precisely. Your Pa pays me. And enough with that ‘Mrs. Campbell’ mess; makes me sound like an old crone. Told you to call me Fran, didn’t I?”

Shrugging past the bitterness in her tone at the mention of your father, you turn to the doorway and pull your coat off of the hook you’d tossed it on the night before. It’s only slightly warm from where the sun has touched it. 

The beams have softened their assault on the curtains; it’s still fairly cloudy, but there’s no sign of incoming snow. Chores would be alright, if only for today. 

“I’ll work on it, Mrs. Campbell. But, I do have one more question, if you don’t mind.” You wait for a nod while you pull on your boots with a wince. “How come you don’t take on any other help?”

Like most of her responses, Mrs. Campbell doesn’t give much away. Nothing remarkable that you can discern, at least. She merely winks and carries on with her washing. But just as you set a foot out the front door, she calls out to you. 

“Hey, kid?”

You turn.

“If the worst you can call him is a spooked cat, he can’t be all that bad, can he?” 

You freeze. “Pardon?”

She looks up at the ceiling, as though her next words will appear if she gets her eyes to narrow enough. Glasses had been the first of many neglected suggestions you’d offered upon your arrival. You’d even offered to buy them yourself, with what little you’d been able to bring with you. But Mrs. Campbell, being Mrs. Campbell, had simply laughed.

Squinting, she returns her focus to the bucket and reaches for a cake of lye soap. “Ah, and tell that idiot if he slams my doors, I’ll send my foot so far up his ass that them science folks won’t have any animals left to call him.”

__

Illusory warmth finds you a few weeks later.

It isn’t quite spring yet; winter is a stubborn mule, and though the snow has receded into the dirt it still stamps its hooves into the wind. In the water, too—freezing rain taps its fingers onto the windows. Soft and melodic, it nearly puts you to sleep from your place on the floor before you remember the annoyances it’s dragged along with it. 

There’d been no sign of trouble tonight, and the chicken wire had been reinforced a few hours prior. That’d mostly been the work of Mr. Campbell, though. He’d chirped about some promise he’d made to his “lovely wife,” and went on his merry way after leaving you with some choice words from the wife in question about the importance of rest. 

The rain had started not long after. Which was great, for someone out there. But, bad for you. Pretty bad. Ugly, messy bad—because it was cold, dark, and the dirt hadn’t the moral backbone to keep itself together for any longer than two blinks before your boots were practically swimming in it. 

The trudge back to the cabin was only slightly humiliating, considering the fact that the sole witnesses were the owls you knew were hiding out in the safety of the trees. 

Scampering from the uneven path to the front porch, however, was another story. Although the pliant (no good, backstabbing) earth was quick and eager to drag you to its depths, you were aggravated enough to be slightly quicker, and your palms shot out to catch you just before your chin could meet the full wrath of the wood.

But the word “just” was a pebble cast into a pond, and the first ripple was the metallic tang that flooded your mouth. Diatribes were spat onto the ground alongside the blood, tongue throbbing with a vengeance before you drove the heels of your palms down to push yourself up. The second ripple was a little less red, but just as irritating. The rain had pulled the wet fabric of your work shirt and trousers tight over your limbs, and it had begun to border on painful when water droplets struck like one might strike the skin of a drum. 

“I’m grateful, I’m grateful, I’m oh so fucking grateful…” It was a mantra you often found yourself repeating whenever nature’s pranks sought to drive you mad. Rain was good. Rain was fine, actually, so you’d ignored the creaking of your knees and hobbled your way inside.

And here you sit: back propped up against the wall, shivering like a fool with your knees tucked into your chest. The mud crusting between your fingers barely registers while you work on releasing yourself from your wet clothing.

Which, of course, is when the light tapping on the window takes its cue to crescendo. It’s a rather flimsy cloak for the uneven thunks outside that make no attempt to conceal themselves. But your bones know better. 

Awful timing, that man. 

You feel the weight of his fist against the door before he makes contact. 

(One.)

You shoot up.

(Two.)

You lunge for the table.

You decide against greeting him with the rifle, which is a significant improvement. It’s a revolver. But you did have the good sense not to kick the door again; the rusty hinges were fragile enough without your meddling. Instead, you let it creak open with one hand on the doorknob.

You’re met with a bruise, planted right atop a cheekbone. A swollen bottom lip, blood threatening to split it wide. He’s got a button missing from his rumpled jacket, and the caving of the porch underneath his feet clues you in on the fact that he’s favoring his right leg. He’s been fighting. Fighting, and he looks about ready to keel over and die. Or pick another fight. Probably both.

Part of you unwinds at the sight of him, battered as he was. Present as he was. But the more logical part of you senses that he’s here for something, and the even more logical part of you remembers exactly what it was that stood at your doorstep.

It’s then that the stench of alcohol hits you, and the familiar smell of mud sweeps in not long after. Arthur is completely covered in it, save for his face. And—

There. There it is again.

That look. 

Your pulse trips in your throat, and you pray that he’s inebriated enough to ignore it. “You’re on my porch. Why?”

Bright blue comes back into focus, and his hands fall to his hips. “I can go where I damn well please.”

“That’s all well and good, but why are you on my porch?”

He sniffs. Peers just over your shoulder. “...House call.”

You step to block him. “Now that’s two chances. I have it on good authority that one is just fine these days, but I’m feeling generous.” And confused. Extremely confused.

His face contorts into a heatless grimace, and the doorknob squeals. You’re suddenly reminded of the odd tales of shapeshifters you’d stumbled upon as a child: one moment a man, the next a bloodthirsty predator. Not a particularly helpful development—especially since your talk with Mrs. Campbell—but it was a development nonetheless.

Arthur rattles off the courtesies typically extended toward esteemed guests while you look him over again, and your eyes lock onto his hair. Another familiar connection—doe brown strands, streaked with mud and nearly plastered to his head from the light downpour. Much less ferocious than the rest of him. But, tonight, if you have to pick, he’s a wet dog. A wet, potentially drunk dog, who was missing his hat. 

And suddenly, the natural chatter of the trees comes to a halt. 

“What’d you just call me?”

…You idiot.

“I didn’t call you jack shit,” you lie. Arthur gives a loose smirk, and your next protests become nothing but bluster. “What, the little girl that hit you knock your ears shut?”

“Figured I’d let her get a hit in, out of the kindness of my big ol’ heart.” Arthur sways on his feet a bit, peering down at you through the water that he hasn’t bothered to wipe from his lashes. Gravity finds eventual triumph, and he leans into the post before eying the revolver still in your hands. “Don’t suppose you’re plannin’ on pullin’ that trigger any time soon.”

“What’s it to you?”

Arthur’s face begins to harden, and he crosses his arms tight over his chest. “You know, last time I was here I said you were lucky. Well, I’d like to make an addendum: lucky and stupid, lady.” 

You cast a disbelieving look at the leg he’s been keeping his weight off of. “And you’re drunk. The fact that you got here without your horse cracking your head open is a miracle.”

His brows draw low, and he rubs the heel of his boot against the muddy spot where you’d fallen earlier. Blinks at the ground. Then, with the vigor of a child caught sleeping in church, wipes angrily at a speck of mud on his thigh. “M’not drunk,” he finally mutters, flicking the offending dirt out into the yard and crossing his arms again. “And I’ve got enough trust in my horse to fill at least half of that barn y’all got.”

“Just half? Not the whole thing?”

“Whole thing would be two horses.”

You almost laugh. Almost. When you don’t reply, his eyes drop back down to the gun, gaze contemplative. “You got any idea how easily I could’ve knocked that flimsy thing outta your hands?”

“Why of course I do, Mr. Morgan.” The dampness you’d been struck with pulls at you, bones heavy and patience now worn thin. You give the revolver an exaggerated twirl, the metal snatching what can be seen of the moon through the rain and reflecting it at him. “I’m real lucky you’re here to tell me so, ain’t I? Matter of fact, why don’t you go and fetch me my chair before I topple right on over? ” 

“That ain’t what I meant, and you know it.” You think he sounds somewhat regretful. But somewhat isn’t enough. 

“Do I now,” you say dryly. “You seem to ‘not mean’ an awful lot.” 

Arthur pushes himself off of the post with his shoulder and shoves his muddy hands into his muddy pockets. “I just don’t see why you people are so eager to act like you got your life for dog-cheap.”

“You people?”

“Yeah, you heard me. You people.” He’s looking at everything but you now, eyes wild but body frighteningly still. “You’ll look trouble right in the eye, and lie right through your damn teeth till it gets you laid out cold in a ditch somewhere.” Arthur gestures to the embarrassing height your shooting arm has dropped to in the time that he’s spoken. “I can tell each time you open that door that you won’t shoot. Can’t, I’d argue, ‘cause if you didn’t have my big head within one inch of that barrel, you’d be some deep shit.” His words are a forlorn echo amidst the rain, now nothing more than a light haze. 

You could shut the door and go back inside, you think. Tell him he’s wrong, because he most certainly was. Peel out of your damp clothes, because standing outside in the chill spelled nothing but trouble. Arthur wouldn’t push. He was just as prone to bluffing as you were. 

And yet.

And yet.

“I could say the same about you. Don’t think your kin would take too kindly to the fact that you’re hangin’ around someone that knows your face. Who you are.” You steady your aim. “That’s a loose end, Arthur. You don’t seem like the type of man to keep many of those around.” It’s the first time you’ve said his name all night; you’re only sure because the moment it leaves you, his entire body tenses before he sags back against the wooden post. 

The way he looks at you then might be considered cruel and unusual punishment. You think of butterflies, embroidered into blankets from childhood. Tacked to the wall of your father’s study. The only difference between them and you is that you’re free to leave.

If only you possessed something to sweeten the deal—whatever deal you could come up with in the next five seconds. To mask the returning waver of your voice, now laden with inconceivable realities. “Am I a loose end, Arthur Morgan?” 

He opens his mouth to speak. Closes it. Untucks a hand from the arms he’s wrapped around himself to scrub at his beard and finally wipe at the water you’ve been eyeballing from his lids. He opens his mouth again, now on the precipice of what might be an explanation.

“S’dangerous,” is all he says.

You see red.

The arm holding the revolver is dropped so you can poke a finger into his chest. “You’re not making any sense!” Each word is enunciated with a jab, and you cringe at the feeling of rain rewetting the mud underneath your fingernails. “You cut and run, turn up drunk and beaten half to death, practically beg me to let you inside, and then you get upset when I say I won’t pop a bullet into your head?”

Arthur pinches the bridge of his nose, voice beginning to escalate. “Now if you would just listen for more than two seconds—”

You cut him down with a harsh whisper. “Listen? Listen?” Your eyes momentarily check for any sign of a light being turned on in the main house. Nothing. Your finger falls away then, and a violent chill wracks your body from head to toe. “No, you listen. I don’t know you. You don’t know me. You said your piece the last time we spoke, and you left, so why are you on my porch!”

“I don’t know!”

Something cracks, and your vision blurs when you whip your head to recheck the lights. Still nothing. The crack fizzles out into nothingness, and you return to find Arthur close. Awfully close. And your hand is warm and—oh.

It seems his pluck is rather contagious. The noise you’d heard wasn’t thunder, but the sound of your treacherous hand clapping right over Arthur’s mouth.  

Time stills. Or speeds up, more like. The only thing you can be certain of is that ring of greenish gold around his pupils. The brush of his lips against your palm. Humid air being released in slow, steady clouds. You briefly wonder what else this warmth has dominion over, save for your cupped hand. Who else. 

The speed of the exhales increases, and envy wriggles in the dirt of your heart like unearthed worms. Did his mind wander, as yours often did? Surely not as emphatically. It no doubt ambled from one thought to the next, attention snagged only when he had the energy to do so. Had you been interesting enough to snag his?

The spell is broken by a lamp flickering on in the distance. 

“Shit!”

Sheer panic sinks its claws into you before rationality can, and you’re curling a hand around Arthur’s wrist and yanking him inside before he can protest.

You’re both panting ragged breaths once the door shuts behind you, in spite of the mere two steps it’d taken to cross the entryway. Tangible confusion permeates the air, and Arthur looks at you expectantly. It’s only fair that the (secondary) perpetrator speak first.  

But words are tricky, tricky things. And as much as you partook in your fair share of falsehoods, finding the right ones when you didn’t feel that your life was on the line was an unfamiliar practice. 

Voice quiet, you blink at the muddy footprints on the floor. “You left my door open.”

“I remember,” he replies. Simple.

The silence returns, eerily reminiscent of your first encounter. You consider telling him about the warning Mrs. Campbell had wanted you to relay to him. But then you think about all of the other things he’s missed since he’s disappeared, and your mind becomes saturated with just about everything, and somehow nothing at all. But Arthur’s voice, once again, cracks the fragile quiet. 

“God damn it!” He begins to pace, rubbing at the shadows under his eyes. You’re thankful that he’s finally lowered his voice to a whisper, though the close quarters don’t seem to help with the intensity. “I ain’t supposed to be here. Not like this.”

“Not like what? Arthur what do you—” 

“This isn’t how this was supposed to go,” he says, voice edging on the side of desperation.

“How what was supposed to go?” You look at his hands, fumbling with his belt loops. He sucks in a brittle gulp of air when he catches you looking, like he’s surprised you’re looking at him at all. 

And then, miraculously, the pieces of the puzzle fall into place. 

“I’m to kill you. Ideally this evening.” 

Until it all promptly falls apart.

You turn away. Begin to work open the half done buttons of your shirt. Arthur turns to face the door. You decide to humor him. “Who.” 

“Some man, your Pa, I presume,” he says. For the first time in what feels like eternity, his voice is devoid of any feeling. It sounds small. Not defeated, not yet, but oh so small. “Willing to pay big bucks to get rid of a ‘financial thorn’ in his side. Knew ‘bout my business in Blackwater, which I assume you’re also aware of. Said he’d had some bonds on that boat.” Blunt fingernails scratch lightly at the curtains. “He said I could sniff things out, see if I wanted to to his dirty work.”

Shirt falling to the floor, you allow yourself some time to stew numbly in your naivety while you get the fire going; you could be disappointed all you wanted once you were warm. You can hear Arthur scrubbing at his beard again when you begin to drag a chair in front of the fireplace. You sit, or collapse rather, and shuck off your boots with little care for where they land. Where the mud splatters.

“How’s Marlene?” You ask.

Rustling. He’s turned around. More frantic rustling. He’s turned back to the wall. “I’m sorry?”

“Marlene. Chicken. ”

“Ah. She’s uh, good. Eating good. Still pecks like hell, though.”

And, once again, more silence.

You bark out a dry laugh. It hurts—hurts like hell, but it tumbles out of you with a sharp snap. It snowballs into pure, unadulterated laughter. Bouncing off the walls, the drinking glasses, the mud, right into the fire and back out again. It continues until you’re left with nothing but a pathetic wheeze rattling your lungs.

Settling into the back of the chair, your head lolls back till you can see an upside down version of the bewildered Arthur you’d turned away from. The angle is awkward, and the blood rushing to your head makes him look all warm and fuzzy, but it’s precisely why you’ve chosen it.

“Didn’t think finding all this out would be so funny.” He speaks as if poking a tiger.

Another half-hearted chuckle slips out of you. “Good god, I thought you were trying to proposition me.”

“Proposition you?” He scowls. “What on earth would I—” 

Arthur stops. Blinks one of his blinks. Gives his eyes another rub. Blinks again. He’s been doing that a lot, lately. This “blinking” thing.

“Oh.” He frowns.

Frowning right back, you push yourself to stand and toss some old papers from your table into the fire. “No need to seem so put off by it, gosh. Should’ve told me you were out for my head from the start. Would’ve made this a hell of a lot less embarrassing.” Disappointment had beat out the warmth.

You wait for an apology, or a joke. Or something. Anything. But you’re met with nothing. The paper eventually crumbles into nothing, too, smoke tickling your nostrils alongside the smell of rain.

His voice sounds from the back of the room.

“I didn’t say that.”

You whip around.

“Say what.”

He speaks as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I didn’t say I wasn’t. Interested, I mean.” When you point to yourself, he rolls his eyes. “No, the couch.”

There was no couch.

The two of you watch each other for a bit. Then Arthur finds another annoying spot on his thigh to rub at, and you’re watching him.

“You’re drunk,” you conclude, voice flat. You pull on a blanket, suddenly conscious of the bareness of your shoulders. “You’re drunk, or tired, or both. You weren’t here. I didn’t see you, you didn’t see me. Am I clear?”

You stand on wobbly feet and motion for him to leave.

“You don’t think I’m joking, do you? I meant what I said.” He brushes past your outstretched hand to clunk into the chair, mirroring that same awkward position you’d found yourself in earlier. Strong neck arched, fire light catching the water that’s begun to bead on his cheeks. “I don’t do charity. Don’t think I have the money for it, actually.”

“How kind of you.”

“I mean it. Truly.”

“Then come back tomorrow,” you blurt.

Fuck.

What the hell were you doing? “You come back tomorrow night, sober, and we’ll see.” No, we would not.

But it’s too late—Arthur is rebounding off of the chair, straightening out his jacket (he’s noticed the missing button, finally), and striding to the door before you can retract your mistake. Even so, you follow after him like a besotted moron, only stopping when he turns to face you once the door is back open.

“Tomorrow, then,” he says. Eyes dark. Searching.

And then he’s stooping down. Reaching for your hand. Pulling it to his dry lips, and pressing a chaste kiss right to the top of it. He chuckles when you shiver, still clutching the blanket tight around your shoulders.

You’re released soon after. And Arthur gives you one long look, tells you to lock your door, and leaves.

—

next chapter >>

[delphinus-dancer]

A deep dive into a swan lake and flipping the (metaphorical, sadly) bird:

A Mihaly-centric view of JD 2024 story mode

(because they’re my favorite and I’ve thought about this way too much over the past few days weeks) Spoilers for JD 24 in the almost-essay under the cut, including some images!

Starting off with Mihaly’s first appearance in the story mode in Canned Heat, it seems like not too much time has passed since the end of jd23- Sara seems to be at the same party, Jack still at the tower, etc. (how Brezziana got to the beach that fast and had a workout class is something I’m going to guess was preplanned before everything went down).

We can assume this would be the first time Mihaly’s come back to their room since then (which makes the idea of Wanderlust FaceTiming everyone like 5 minutes after they left even funnier). Of course there’s the shot of Mihaly ripping the poster off the wall, which probably puts their feelings into words better than anything else within an E10 rating. <Side note: I don’t know much on lore but does the setting mean there’s a chance they’re from Eternyx? Both maps started in dark crowd/nighttime so wasn’t sure if confirmed or not>

While Sara has the spot pretty much clinched for a Night Swan’s foil, Mihaly is a really close second. This shot literally puts it into perspective- Mihaly’s color scheme has as many color elements of Master Panda’s (shirt/jacket/foot wraps) as it does Night Swan’s (hair-that-perfectly-matches-the-poster/ gold of headphones and glasses/pants). Their dance style also overlaps moreso with hers than the other dancers, with the precision and technique of their moves, from the footwork and leaps of Rather Be to the dramatic powerful motions of their Swan Lake part. It’s pretty obvious who the song is directed to, and what makes the song so interesting compared to their last story mode one is how loose it feels. This is unlike their usual technical style because of the connection to Night Swan with the control demanded of certain moves that they’ve presumably mastered- maybe they were fueled by a desire to achieve her success. Regardless, the song and emotion fueled, less ‘perfect�� dance lets Mihaly basically flip the bird at Night Swan’s corrupted idea of perfection. Either way, it culminates in them achieving a new high in their training with channeling their ‘true’ inspiration of the (master) panda. Although they retain most of their same costume after sort of becoming a furry?, a noticeable change is that the black leggings are understandably switched to something looser- but to the navy color of master panda instead of Mihaly’s black.

What’s also interesting is that the specific point Night Swan interrupts Mihaly’s song isn’t at the beginning like Brezziana/Sara/Jack’s or the very end like Wanderlust, but at the climax of their journey for the song. Not only does this imply that she may have been watching the entire time but choose to interfere later, but she is also the only character to see the Panda form before Swan Lake.

As Night Swan basically invades Mihaly’s //mind/headspace/flowspace?/no idea on the lore// they initially try to fight her off, but unlike Brezziana in her map, don’t fight until the end. Although Mihaly themselves wasn’t being corrupted like the background coaches in Brezziana’s map, they still let themselves, in a sense, lose a more internal battle to Night Swan as they leave the metaphorical and literal height of their understanding and power in the Flow and come back to the real world.

This then takes us straight into Swan Lake, which is really interesting for the Night Swan/Mihaly interactions and how they compare to the other dancers. Although from a format standpoint it makes sense for the movements in the bridge to be different, there are more differences too.

A big one that I only realized once I watched Majesty again is how the other swan soldiers/minions were turned back- and that was mainly by doing the same moves to ultimately come together and bring the dancers back. Here it’s the opposite for effectiveness- what causes Wanderlust and Brezziana to fail is that they think that’s how to stop Sara. Sara matches the moves in a way that <well> matches, if not surpasses the power that they put in. As a result of meeting them head on and assuming control, Sarah actively corrupts the two of them. She makes motions to bring in the smoke, and both of them also are stationary/surrendering as their color drains.

When it gets to Mihaly, the dynamic with Sara changes completely. While Sara starts off watching with the same expression as when the others challenged her, it shifts as she realizes she can’t emulate what Mihaly does, with the movements almost like Night Swan’s-dramatic and slower. It comes to a head when Mihaly channels the panda again and visibly knocks Sara back, so she’s unable to push any of the smoke towards them.

Sara’s expression also becomes noticeably softer for the rest of Mihaly’s part, and she doesn’t reassert that dominance/control she had earlier- with dancing or the smoke. See how she looks almost pensive in the photos above/below, especially compared to the earlier parts.

Speaking of the smoke, this is the key part about Night Swan seeing the panda earlier. She knows it exists and how to force it off after the earlier song, and as Sara is incapacitated/distracted, she presumably sends down the smoke that starts attacking Mihaly in Panda form.

This attack is why despite having a chance to get through to Sara, Mihaly still ends up failing as they return to normal. However, they are the only character to be so dynamic in their active corruption. Not only does Mihaly manage to send a signal out to Jack, which was a display of power never seen from them previously, but they also do it as they are actively losing their color and control. Unlike the other dances, Mihaly still moves as they lose control, possibly having the strength to continue to fight had they not realized that Night Swan was attacking alongside Sara.

Although the signal is in the shape of a pawprint, its underlying meaning is more than just a plot device to send Jack on a wild goose chase (pun intended that I couldn’t pass up). With the way it opens to form a window into the location from such a distance, it almost seems to be a step away from a full fledged portal. With the sudden appearance of a new power, it’s also an interesting parallel to Night Swan, who here uses powers to create a unique form of control that wasn’t seen in the previous game and who regularly uses portals with her magic.

Another note is the lights that appear for each of the dancers in the upper left corner during the song as they take on Sara. While Brezziana and Wanderlust’s fade out a few moves before they fall, Mihaly’s still goes strong even as they completely turn grey, as seen the the photos above. This could be a possible indication to them having a more stable power than the other dancers, or a form of magic more comparable/competitive with Night Swan’s. Also to note about the lights: looking on the floor during the song, the diamonds flash 3 colors: hot pink (Night Swan), a deep green (Sara, especially while corrupted- her original outfit but darker), and a teal (the exact same color as Mihaly’s flow energy). Like everything else, this is a stretch, but it could possibly mean that Night Swan’s control and magic background could have stemmed from a pure form of flow like Mihaly practices.

This could also be a factor in why they retain the most of their original outfit in the corrupted design- possibly a form of resistance like they displayed during swan lake or general flow magic? Notice that while they have significant changes to their robe/face/accessories, their feather motifs are much less pronounced than the others, simply appearing as marks on the robe that can be mistaken for stripes, rather than overt feathers like Wanderlust/Sara or Sara/Brezziana’s feather tights. Unlike the others, Mihaly keeps their leggings exactly the same (which were notably lost in the panda form, as mentioned earlier), and interestingly enough, their wraps. I initially thought that Night Swan would have changed that to something like ballet slippers with ribbons, so I think it’s really interesting that they are the only dancer who had any details remain exactly the same, especially one that had unique opportunities to be changed.

Going off of that, since they were the last to turn and have (some?) control over their outfit and (some?) magic that may be similar to Night Swan, I could see them being the first/easiest coach for Jack or someone else to turn back when he (hopefully) takes on the coaches.

One last note is the number of maps per story mode coach at this point. Counting Stronger /Survivor, and Treasure/Lose Yourself (hopefully coming soon after that ending!), that seems to be setting a trend for the other coaches to potentially have an additional map as well. If so, maybe that would be one where Mihaly could individually be freed, or a chance for them to further explore their rapidly developing powers (maybe in a confrontation with Night Swan?? a girl can dream).

And there y’all have it! Thank you for somehow reading to the end!! Happy dancing!!

this took forever oh my god

[da-xiao-jie]

haven't posted about cdramas in a bit, but I've been burning through The Legend of Shen Li this week and while I've been enjoying the slower pace while plot threads gather in the background, the romantic aspect, the not so subtle discussion of fate and responsibility, etc. something popped up around EP 33ish and now I have to rant about it.

(Spoiler warning)

The biggest obstacle to Shen Li and Xing Zhi is the fact that He's a divine Immortal and as the last one left, he has a responsibility to protect the three realms without using his powers for selfish purposes.

At the same time, Xing Zhi is lonely and bored and utterly isolated by being the last of his kind so he's definitely a sympathetic character.

Right up until, having saved Shen Li and nursed her back to health, finally returning to the heavenly realm, Xing Zhi brings her to his realm and proceeds to basically imprison Shen Li there where she won't get hurt

and. like.

this is what gets me. the whole show builds up to this. Shen Li is engaged to someone else, but after leaving the human realm, she acknowledges her duty and tries to convince herself to focus on what her role ought to be. Xing Zhi on the other hand can't help but tease and fluster Shen Li, keeping her emotions entangled with him and keeping her from her duty. She calls him out on this and he tries to course correct several times only to fall back into bad habits again later.

at the end of the day, Xing Zhi's love for Shen Li is selfish. he's lonely and bored and here comes this captivating woman who loves him! but when she matures a little and sees that she can't be with him for the sake of the world, she tries to back away and stay focused on her duty, to her realm, her soldiers, etc. And! without! fail! Xing Zhi drags her back. until finally, having recovered from torture and regaining her powers, she's determined to return to her realm and resume her responsibilities and see her people after being presumed dead and what does he do? he traps her. against her principles. why? to keep her forever for himself.

the most telling and frustrating thing is a conversation where Shen Li says, "this relationship isn't the sole reason for my existence." talking about how she loves him, wants to be with him, but also needs to be with and protect her people. to which Xing Zhi replies, "Not the sole reason, but a reason for your existence." So the audience is relieved for all of 10 seconds before, in response to Shen Li claiming that she is not his pet bird that he can't keep her in a cage, Xing Zhi proceeds to cage her.

I just—

I would root for them much more if there was some sense of duty on his part instead of him continually pulling her away from hers. Like, yeah it's unfair, we get that. However love is not selfish. It needs to be selfless or it just becomes possessive obsession.

i haven't finished yet. Still have 5-6 episodes to go, but I needed to rant for a sec

might post again about this one, but who knows?

[mintymarabell]

i would like to request a part two of imagine this with the yandere elder when the reader run away and probly more parts

Part 1 can be found here part three can be found here

Tick tick tick

The sound of smashing glass could be heard, his fist colliding with the grandfather clock you had insisted on getting.

He groaned, it was like a hammer to worsen his headache. All morning he had sat in a surveillance type room, searching, looking desperately for you.

Any longer he was sure he’d go crazy, oh how he missed you. And oh how he was going to kill whatever who took you.

The nerve. The nerve they had to take his presumed canary. To take his bird from his cage without HIS permission.

He applauded them. Honestly. To be able to get into the manor and take his little flower from right under his nonexistent nose.

How the dog didn’t alert him he had no clue. But what he did know was that he needed to find you.

There was a knock at his door, it was loud.

As he opened the door he was greeted to one of his little goons. “Well?” He leaned against the door frame expectantly.

“We think we may have found them sir.” The elite looked down at his feet.

He stood up straight. “Where?” His voice grew louder as he stepped forward with desperation.

“They are near one of the big city towers, they were seen walking around with another yautja.”

His hand that still held the door frame tightened its grip, the wood cracking under the pressure. “Take me there.”

———————————————————————————————

You had thought that when you’d run away you’d be happy and yet there was a slight pain in your chest. Waking up in the middle of some random forest and being helped by a Youngblood who so happened to be passing by.

Surely you hadn’t loved him. Surely not. He kidnapped you. Took you from your home. But what was this aching feeling?

It had been a few days since you’ve ran, the same Youngblood always at your side as you recovered from your minor injuries. They could only be bandaged seeing as the Youngblood could not afford a spray bottle medicine or whatever it was they used.

He could’ve been but only 17 in human years. He was a sweetheart with helping, always being a shoulder to lean on.

There was always a nagging feeling in the back of your mind, the feeling of being watched nagging at your senses. This wasn’t good. Nor was it good you had another yautja walking beside you.

He would kill him. You were sure of it.

It was now day 7, a full week of being a runaway. The little apartment the Youngblood had put you in was nice, even if it meant having to share it with him. You felt bad for the kid. He had a lot coming for him.

Your wounds were healed and it was time to get going, you didn’t want to risk this guys life anymore. When you had brought up leaving the teen had begged for one last walk through the city. You of course obliged, wanting to be nice.!

———

The walk was silent. Comforting. The Youngblood hadn’t spoke a word choosing to just stare straight ahead.

As the walk continued you looked beside you to make sure he was still there. What met your gaze was nothing.

Where had he gone?

Warm hands came around and shielded your vision, your senses screamed at you to move but you couldn’t.

“Guess who baby.”

[pigeonwhumps]

A hole in the family

Sanctuary masterlist

Taglist: @littlespacecastle @mirasmirages @flowersarefreetherapy @whumpinggrounds @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump

Samantha, aka Lea's, family mourns.

1.2k

CWs: BBU setting, grief and mourning, presumed dead, implied assault, self-neglect

Samantha's declared dead two months after she goes missing. The police have pulled a body out of the river and apparently there's evidence that it's hers.

Omari... doesn't say much, when he's informed. What is there to say? His daughter's dead. And then he has to tell everyone else.

It's hard to believe it. He's not sure he can. He has to write an obituary, and he's starting to get why people are always described as perfect in them. It feels like tainting her, somehow, to put down anything less. She had personality, life, so many quirks that made people argue with her but he can't put them down on paper. She is was, still, his perfect daughter.

He avoids the river, now. He used to go there with Sam to feed the birds, a bag of dried peas every week, and he wonders, sometimes. Is it an insult to her memory not to go there anymore? Do birds remember? But he can't. Not knowing they pulled her body out of there.

He still goes to the orchestra concerts, him and Kayla. Sam's gone but for a few hours they can pretend she's still there, unable to see that she's not with their eyes closed, just listening to the music and forgetting, just for a little bit, that it's not Sam performing on stage. That that's not the reason she's not sitting with them, even though it should be.

_

Mariano cleans the flat, almost obsessively. Everything is sparkling, now, more than it ever was. It helps that Samantha's mess is out of the way, in her bedroom, but that just makes Mariano feel worse.

Everything is sparkling except for Sam's room. All the winter coats are tidied away, except for Samantha's. After all, she might need it. She might come back and need it and then what would they do?

And she can't bear to go in Samantha's room. She just can't. Ade and Faith and Alaia do, she knows Alaia sleeps there sometimes, but she just can't.

Her daughter is dead. Or missing, as Ade says, but gone all the same.

It's time to clean the good coats. It's almost time for the spring concert. She'll clean Samantha's too, and her shoes. Maybe they'll get a miracle.

The funeral was beautiful. Too beautiful. The orchestra played Venus, with a seat left free for her daughter, and it was as cheerful as Samantha would've liked it to be, and packed full to bursting, but she could hardly bear it. Her daughter is dead, and no matter the type of funeral that's not going to change.

_

They're having another argument, her and Faith. Pizza toppings, this time. After Faith being wrong for the umpteenth time, Kayla turns automatically to Sam. So does her sister.

She's not there.

Of course she's not there, she hasn't been there for months.

It hits Kayla like a truck every time, bowling her over. Her chest is crushed and she can barely breathe.

Sam is dead.

Her baby sister, who was born so tiny, who has always loved music, who would have been world-famous if she'd had a chance to grow, if she hadn't hated the idea so much. Who she'd put her first paycheck towards so Sam could continue the violin lessons she loved so much when the cost went up.

Their last conversation was an argument. She doesn't remember what about anymore, it doesn't matter. She thought they'd make up later, they always did, but then Sam had gone to her concert and something had happened to her and they'd found her violin a few days later, the case scuffed from what the police said was likely a struggle, and what happened to her?

And now... now they won't see her again. She can't make up with her baby sister, or apologise, or even just see her.

She still goes to watch the concerts, with her dad. It feels like she should. Not going would be abandoning Sam for good. And it feels like, just for an hour, Sam is with them, somewhere. On the stage, in life, but... Kayla doesn't believe in ghosts, but if she did, she'd say that this is where she would be.

_

It's family film night. They're watching a film. Or trying to, anyway. No-one can agree.

Samantha's vote goes towards a horror film. She'd have to hide behind the nearest person, first jumpscare in, but she'd vote to watch one anyway.

Eventually, Alaia votes for a horror film, holding Hugo tight. And so with two votes they start one.

Faith misses having Sam curled up beside her, head pillowed on Faith's shoulder, feet tucked under her. Face ready to be hidden in Faith if she needs it.

Her dad starts the film.

She watches, tension rising, until the first jumpscare. The lack of a squeal of fear, a tightening of pressure on her arm, a face burying itself into her, popcorn spraying, it's worse than the jumpscare. She stifles a sob and stands up.

"I can't watch this."

Sam rubbed people up the wrong way sometimes, she didn't always get on with her family and Faith wouldn't have wanted her to, but she's Faith's sister and she's gone and Faith wants her back.

_

Sammy's teddy is lonely now. Alaia is looking after him, so he's still warm and hugged and loved, but he must be lonely without Sam. There's no music now, filtering through the flat from Sammy's room as she plays.

Played?

Plays.

Alaia is careful to keep Hugo clean and tidy and in nice pyjamas, but it's not enough. He must still be lonely. Alaia is. She's always empty now. She hugs Hugo when she feels especially sad or anxious, her tears making him soggy as she remembers Sammy and their games, but it's not the same. It's not the same as hugging Sammy.

Especially when Sammy can't do anything about the pain this time. She's the cause of it and she can't do anything about it.

_

Ade's devastated. It's not romance, not quite, what they had. They never defined it, exactly. But for all that it was, she's the most important person in his life.

And now she's gone.

He doesn't know what to do with himself. What is he supposed to do, now that Sammy's gone?

It takes a week. A week, before his brother shoves him in the shower and orders food.

He's lost his job by now, probably. He doesn't care.

Everything he sees reminds him of her. The Foodhall Project, where they first met. Black and red braids, a yellow top. A black woman laughing, head thrown back, unselfconscious. A violin on a tram, patches carefully stitched or glued onto the case. A snippet of music by Holst, her favourite composer. Dual language books, Swahili CDs, adverts for language lessons.

He hasn't been able to keep up the Swahili lessons without Sammy there to poke and prod and tease him.

Some days, it's all he can do to wake up.

Eventually, he makes it onto the darker, more secretive corners of the internet. Darker is maybe the wrong word, because what they're doing is good, hope. He gives them a description of Sammy to circle around the safehouses. Maybe she's not dead. Maybe she'll turn up.

Nothing comes of it.

[salamanderinspace]

So I've been going hard on touching grass (or rather, brick--but sometimes grass) since we moved in April. I've been out in the public space a lot, because I don't drive and I like to explore and experience. I take the bus, I walk for hours, I sit on benches. I push on fences. I go to shops and libraries and cafes and cemeteries and investigate public restrooms.

This my news report. Reality-contact. One: I haven't had COVID yet. So either I'm immune/resistant, or it's pretty dead in this area.

Two. I've never seen anyone using tiktok in public. The endless posts about that on here ... must be discussing a very different place and culture than where I live.

I do still occasionally see noise wagons--people blasting their music loud from car stereos.

There's a lot of homeless here, it's true. They don't look quite as bedraggled as the homeless in upstate NY did, but maybe that's just the magic of summer.

I was in a bank last week, a Chase. It was very weird. It didn't have teller windows. It was just this weird apple store type place with one lady in the middle. About my age, maybe younger. There were some restaurant booths on the right side. I was like "is this a bank?" and she was like "yes it is" and so I changed ones for the bus. Wonder if this will catch on.

At the Currier Museum I saw the Picasso. A docent was giving a tour to some middle schoolers. This is the piece:

Woman Seated in a Chair. The docent was asking a lot of questions like, "how do we know she's a woman?" I don't know if he was talking about gender presentation on purpose, but if he was, that was pretty bold. Given that New Hampshire is one of the states where LGBTQ conversations in school environments are now criminalized.

Most of the people who work in the city live in the suburbs. Well, that's nothing new. It's cheaper to live out there. My building is a lot of young yuppies. I saw a couple in the office signing their lease last weekend, and their parents were with them. Presumably paying first and last. Most of the stuff people throw in the dumpster here is nicer than the stuff I grew up with.

Chicken wings cost the same whether you order them from Wal*Mart and cook them, or get them Door Dashed from the nearest place.

Demi Lovato is popular. I've overheard "Cool For the Summer" a few times.

About 3-5 trains go by every week.

I'm the only one who uses the basketball court.

Ubers come in less than 30 minutes. Faster than the old taxi days. People do seem to use the BIRD scooters, which is interesting, because isn't an Uber about the same $? And the BIRDs run out of charge, too.

I don't live near a school or playground so I don't see a ton of kids. I did see one coming out the Science Museum, crying. The parent was threatening, "if you keep acting like this we are NEVER coming back here."

I saw a guy catch a fish in the river, which was very impressive. He put it back... I doubt they're safe to eat, anyway.

[kodi-makes-art]

Meet my girl Nightwatcher! She is my oldest OC created way back when I was 12 and just reading Warriors for the first time. Her appearance has changed several times over the years but her lore has pretty much stayed the same. Here's a brief description of her life.

She was born to an Riverclan she-cat with her brother Littlefield, her birth mother did not survive the birth and the two of them were taken in by Snowleaf the late deputy who raised them with her own kits. Once becoming an apprentice she became fast friends with Mousepaw (a young Longstar). She could often be found in trees just observing the world around her in her free time. Which led to her name Nightwatcher.

On her warrior ceremony she was taken by the Reds a group of rouges that have been terrorizing the four clans. They ripped off her tail leaving it behind to make the clan cats to believe her dead. 

She was presumed dead for 3 seasons (3 years) and was held captive for 2 and a half of those seasons. Far from the clans. There she met Willow and Rock two loners who were expecting kits and had been captured as well. During this time Nightwatcher is called the Scared one or just Scar. 

She is made to fight in an arena like thing to survive, losing means death. This is where the majority of her scars come from.

Rock is killed not long after their arrival and Willow along with two of three of her kits don't survive the first week after their birth. They're too weak. Nightwatcher takes the last kit, a tom and names him Lark after a bird his mother often talked about. She vows to get them out and raise him as her own. 

She manages to get them out and they spend the next six months making their way back to Riverclan. They arrived mid battle and shock everyone who believed her dead. They help win this battle and everyone is happy to have her home and welcome Lark to their clan. Before Nightwatcher can ask for Snowleaf she sees then Longscars half star mark on his forehead marking him as deputy. Her mother is gone and she never got to say goodbye.

She settles back in and fights many battles with her clan mates. And later has three kits with Longscar. She is the winning factor in the last battle against the Reds and her life is taken as she takes out the Rouge groups leader. Leaving Foxkit(Foxchaser), Claykit(Claytail/Star), and Stormkit(Storm) to be raised by their father alone.

Once I redo Longscar/stars reference sheet I'll add him here, his old one is up on my Instagram (Renniguess) if you want to see it.

[themotelchicks]

🚨NEW BEB🚨

Let's welcome the newest addition to The Motel Chicks, Baby!! She is as her name says, a baby 🥹 I estimate her to be roughly 9months old. She's been with us now for two weeks.

& while she did immediately integrate herself to the flock, the rest of the hens still haven't fully accepted her and chase her off a lot. Will put her full rescue story under a read more in case it gets rambly bc her situation is one I had Opinions on lol

So I'm not saying I kidnapped her, but I'm not denying it either shhhh 🤫 she showed up in my neighborhood last July, with two others & at the time they all looked like they were around 3 months old based on their size (compared them to pics of my girls when they were the same size). I assumed they were strays since we get a lot of random chickens just wandering around in my area bc lots of ppl keep them but don't keep them as contained as I work to keep mine.

Anyway turned out they belonged to someone & she had bought them for her kids (this is how I acquired the rest of my birds, bc the neighbor's girlfriend kept buying them and then they broke up and she left them all and the neighbor didn't really care about them much) so they were just left to wander the street for a while

They didn't have a coop until a month or two later. I never saw anyone close it up at night.

One day, there were suddenly only two of them. Not surprising. We have hawks, raccoons, tons of dogs in the area. Something probably got her.

It's been a few more months now. The 2nd baby turns out to be a rooster. Which is good, at least the little hen will have protection now. They started hanging out in my front garden more and more often.

I maybe started to feed them since I never saw them being fed, there weren't any dishes or anything out for them aside from one small water thing.

Fast forward to the beginning of January: the rooster has suddenly disappeared overnight. Presumably taken from the coop that had still been left open 24/7. Baby was now alone & there were more hawks flying around lately and it had been really cold and raining.

So I did the only thing I could think of: I opened my fence and let her into the yard with my flock (ahh bad biosecurity i know but I'd been keeping an eye on her this whole time and checking her poo for weird stuff, she's healthy)

She slept in my coop that night, and the next night and the next... Nobody came asking after her like they had before when I caught all 3 thinking they were strays. It's been weeks now and not a peep from anyone wanting her back.

So I guess she's mine now! She's very sweet.

[master-john-uk]

I have never witnessed a Murmuration of Starlings as large and impressive as this.

When I first started paying attention to the wild birds around my Kent home in 2019, there was a single Starling that used to sit on the roof of the woodshed and make a noise similar to a "wolf whistle"...the kind of thing that used to be heard when a pretty girl walked past a building site.

During the lockdown of 2020 when I spent a great deal of time watching the garden birds, during the early summer a Starling started taking food from the bird tables and feeders.

At first I used to shoo him away, as he was very greedy and could empty a bird feeder very quickly. But then I noticed that the Starling was not eating the food... he was carrying it away. So, I followed him.

The Starling would land on the roof of the woodshed carrying food in his beak. After checking no other birds were following, he disappeared into a hole in the roof... and emerge a couple of minutes later to gather more food. I felt elated to learn I had a family of Starlings nesting on my property... at the same time as a family of Robins were nesting under the hedge near the bird tables!

When the young Starlings fledged and began to venture outside their safe haven, they attracted the attention of nearby Magpies... but, they survived. The last time I saw the whole family, the Starlings lined up on the shed roof... an adult bird at either end, with their three kids between them. They then flew off... never to be seen again.

One of the adult birds did return to the shed roof and began "wolf-whistling" again. Presumably the whistle is the Starlings mating call. He did not attract mate... and disappeared again after a week or two.

These starlings murmurations | source

[phantom-z0ne]

WIP Wednesday snippet for Phosphophyllite and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week

Phos startled, whirled around quickly and scanning the surroundings for anything out of place. Weird, they had thought they saw something move. A chill slithered down their spine, something was off.

Why exactly was this place deserted? From what they knew, most areas inhabited at least a handful of beings, but it wasn't like that here for some reason. Phos strained their ears, searching for a sound that wasn't the background noise of the city. Their surroundings were eerily silent. Not even the chirping of birds or the skittering of insects cut through the still forest, only the ruffling of leaves remained. They clutched the straps of their bag tightly, speeding up their pace. This garden gave them the creeps and they weren’t willing to stay another second in it.

It felt as if their surroundings were shifting, enclosing them into an earthly trap. When Phos turned to look, however, nothing was out of place. Despite its bright, colorful appearance, they had the feeling that there was something deeper to this place. Something dark and vile, they thought with a shiver. The feeling persisted, and Phos felt trapped, like their surroundings were creeping ever closer and they couldn't see it.

At long last, Phos spotted a rusting black metal gate framing the entrance—and in Phos’ case, their escape. The gate was firmly shut; the bars rattled slightly at their harsh shake, but ultimately didn't budge. A fence of the same design enclosed their surrounding, presumably fencing in most of the overgrown garden. Why they had such a distressing and abandoned garden in the middle of a bustling settlement was beyond Phos, but they just had to jump over the gate and they would be free of this strange—and extremely unnerving, they couldn't help but think—forest.

[dashawfrostart]

This Week In "Time & Again" #2: Gettin' Technical Here! 😁

Now, since all the vector prep is done, it's finally time for me to start actually drawing every single frame for Chapter 5!.. Just like that! 👇😁

Oddly, as I started drawing the frames for Chapter 5, I feel extra hyper but also very relaxed and blissful at the same time. Maybe it's nostalgia, for as far as I remember, in winter days I liked to enjoy drawing at home, in the warmth, watching the snow outside. Seems like the work on the artworks is going exceptionally well - much better than when I worked on Chapter 4. I'm excited to go forward with my crazy undertaking; but on the side, I have a lot of non-"Time & Again" ideas, and I revisit my old writings, hoping to find extra spark for the other universes and timelines I have in mind, and all of that powers me up. I feel very active and positive. Aaaah, dis is the season, innit?.. Here, on this side of the globe, winter is halfway on. In the end of the last week it snowed in neatly and almost evenly, and the birds on our balcony look all fluffed up and fidgety, waddling from one little foot to another to keep themselves warm while trying to unbury the birdy omnomnommies from under the not-so-giant-yet heaps of snow. The snow has melted a bit by now; I watch them through the balcony window, sipping on my Earl Grey tea every morning and throughout the day, and it makes me feel at peace, and yet a little sad at the same time. For if I had knitting skills, I would've supplied all those cute little sparrows and the peanut-hungry blue jay family with some nice sets of hand-made sweaters, hats, scarves, and socks. But alas, I can only do that in the form of artworks for now. But I digress. Back to my graphic novel now.

For those who don't know how I usually work on "Time & Again" - and I presume, that's what I'll keep doing for the rest of my comic-type projects, that is, if there's ever gonna be any more - I do everything consecutively, starting from the lineart (including the backgrounds, especially if the frame requires very specific placement of the character on the background, or they interact with it in any way), then I do the flat colouring, and then I go for the shading. And by that, I mean that I do all the lineart for all the pages first, then, once that is done, I switch to colouring of all the pages, and then, once that is done as well, I finally get to do the shading on all the pages. Told you, there's definitely a certain system in the way I work on my stories. This is also a reason why I never ever post updates page by page: because there's simply nothing to post, since they're all incomplete. Deal with it 😎 It seems that this manner of work suits me best. I'm not certain why, but I've never been keen on sharing the works that are half-done or something - although lately I'm going through a certain metamorphosis in this respect. Moreover, it is important to me to keep the same steady, precise, and classy art style throughout the chapter. Consistency is what I highly value in my creations. People, who also draw, have probably noticed that, at times, their art style might wiggle and be, let's say, all over the place - and sometimes this just happens on its own. I can't really explain this. This must be some sort of hidden mysterious consciousness of our pen/pencil that simply does things on its own 🤪. Sometimes our mood contributes to how the art style changes in tiny little details - at times to better, at times to worse comparing to what we strive to achieve. Through executing everything consecutively and finishing up the "chunks" of different types of work one after another, my goal is to avoid unnecessary and unwanted art style inconsistencies that might occur otherwise.

But enough of this lengthy preamble! Let's finally get technical, just as the post title announced it! I see you're getting bored... (no, wait, what do you mean it's just my neighbours snoring?.. I don't know what you're talking about)

This time, since I decided on making a regular page-by-page PDF version of the chapter as well as its scrollable webcomic doppelgänger, I needed to figure out how exactly to simplify my work in order to avoid accidental complications (here, almost a quote from a character's line from the current chapter, lol!). Of course there's no way I want to do the same amount of work twice just because I didn't anticipate the outcome correctly. Not to brag about it, but I must admit, as far as I remember myself - I've always been good at this. There's always a place for being extra technical when it comes down to the artworks. It's not as simple as it might seem to you. Deciding on the technical aspects of creating artworks is kind of a puzzle, in a sense. It's almost mathematical 😁

So, as you can see on the screenshot just a little above, that's a layout of a comic page (in the regular format for now). To make everything work out in a simple way in the end, I decided to create layer groups for every each separate frame (red markings) that will include everything I need for the frame: the lineart, the colouring, and the background. That will help me to just copy-paste a certain frame on the new canvas optimized for the webcomic format - and that is all! All done in a few clicks. Automation 100% 😁 (having Minecraft flashbacks now for some reason...)

All the text-related material (speech bubbles, the text lines themselves, and all the possible written sound effects such as "Swoosh!", etc.; the green markings on the screenshot) is currently included into one group above everything else. I've been importing these layers straight from Inkscape in PNG. But I started to think now that I need to separate those elements in the end, too, for further convenience and simplicity of arrangement on the webcomic format canvas. But that will be work for another day in the future.

In terms of memory usage, I'm not certain yet how it will go for me, for sometimes Krita would randomly crash on me without anything in the error log, and every additional layer adds to the memory usage even if it's near empty - finally, considering fairly large size of the artworks pixelwise, it all adds up pretty quickly. But I'm not exactly running Krita on a potato either (mmm, potaties 🥔🤤), so I think I should be fine.

Previously, perhaps counterintuitively - but again, it worked just fine for me back in the day - I used to create a giant layer with all the lineart for the current page, and then the flat colours for the entire page were stored on a separate "flats" layer, and all the shading for the entirety of the page was stored on its own separate "shading" layer, too. The same went for the backgrounds: depending on the pictures overlapping or not, I would've drawn all the backgrounds on a single layer called "BGs".

This approach would've not worked this time though.

In the lineart work, I'm currently finishing up page 9 already. ALREADY! 🥳🥳🥳 Which indeed sounds pretty awesome, because it just goes ahead steadily. That is, however, keeping in mind that there are frames that I just left out and skipped for now, for they require extra consideration. You see... Chapter 5 is going to have a peculiar scene - something that I've never ever tried drawing before just yet, and it's gonna be pretty long. It's fairly stretched out across a few pages and it's almost represented in a slower-than-real-life pace (surprise, surprise, isn't it what I usually do anyway tho?..). As I work on it, I wonder if it's going to be too boring for the readers. But I think the time will tell, for, once everything is done properly and in colour, it's gonna be much more of an eye-candy than it is now. I sometimes have difficulties approximating the end result in my head. But often it just turns out a little nicer than expected, which is a bonus. Because screw perfectionism; that's in the past for me 🤣 (true story! did NOT enjoy it! got out with minimal losses!)

... Since this post seems to be stretching out in time and space as well, just as the certain scenes I'm working on, I think it might be time to wrap it up for today.

Happy Halloween everybody! And I foresee significantly more sketches and screenshots in the upcoming posts! Take care! See ya sometime next week! 👋

P.S. And, of course, for a nice holiday treat, I made a Halloween artwork, again. And this time it's not that simple (and for a spoiler: this year it's not gonna have Cacodemons as pumpkins, nope): it also serves as the first teaser for Chapter 5 and the second half of "Time & Again"! So don't miss out on it 😉 You won't though, because it will soon appear in my blog!

[theautisticbarbie]

A Bird of Praise

Act I

Chapter VI: Reflections of the Past

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Word Count: 683

Chapter warnings: None! Just a wholesome way to close out Act I! But let me know if I’m wrong!

Chapter summary: After the nightmarish week of Will’s disappearance, the Christmas season rolls in, bringing new changes and new tidings to come.

Mike, Will, Dustin and Lucas were executing Operation: Grinch quite successfully. The objective was to sneak a peek at their presents see if any of them got the book with the newest edition of DnD.

Unfortunately, they were caught red handed once they reached the tree.

“What are you four doing?”

The four turned around to see Tara giving them a VERY stern look with crossed arms. “You’re so naughty!”

The four walked away, defeated.

“Yeah, scoot!” Tara chuckled. “Sneaking a peek at your presents! Not on my watch and definitely not at my Christmas party!”

Dory, Gabby’s younger sister, the same age as the four, clasped her hands behind her back apologetically. “Sorry, Dusty.”

“Nice going! She sold us out even with her crush on you!” Mike remarked.

“Tara, grandpa’s menorah went out again,” Daniel interjected.

“Okay, I‘ll go light it again! You keep an eye on these little stinkers!”

Tara went into the dining room and relit the menorah when Jonathan walked in.

“It’s funny,” Tara started. “I don’t know the first think about being Jewish… but this menorah is one of the few things left of my grandpa. So every year, during Hanukkah, I light it. I never got to meet him. He died when my mom was like 2.”

“I’m sure he would be proud to know that you kept what I presume is valuable to him safe.”

“I presume so, as well. The candle holders are real gold,” Tara chuckled, lighting the last candle. “So my catholic grandmother says, at least.”

“Look, Tara, I wanted to talk in private.”

Tara lead Jonathan to the kitchen, where their conversation could indeed be private.

“That day… I really thought I was gonna lose you…”

Tara sighed looking down. “I… I told my brother that I made peace with whatever was gonna happen that day… but the truth was that I didn’t want to die… and I didn’t want to get taken away either… I just wanted things to go back to normal.”

Tara looked up at Jonathan. “If you hadn’t noticed I was still breathing and insisted on taking me to the hospital to save me… I would probably be dead.”

Tara rubbed the back of her head. “Thanks for not telling the kids… I didn’t want them to worry, what with Will and all.”

Tara looked out to see Daniel play-fighting with the four. “I’m just relieved that he’s okay.”

Tara turned back to Jonathan. “How’s he been doing?”

“Fine. A lot better now.”

“I’m glad.”

There was an awkward pause before Jonathan finally got up the nerve to speak again.

“Tara… I… about what you asked me… if I love you—“

“It’s okay, Jonathan. I’m a big girl. I’ll be okay.”

Tara took a breath to exit the kitchen when Jonathan grabbed her hand. The two looked up and noticed they were under the mistletoe. Tara’s face turned red as she looked away when Jonathan grabbed her chin and planted one right on her lips.

Tara was instantly flustered. She struggled to collect her words as she looked up. “Wait… do you really love me?”

“I think so.”

“But then, does this make us boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“Yeah, but can we take this slow?” Jonathan asked. “I want to be absolutely sure that I do this right.”

“Of course.”

The two went back into the living room not consciously realising that they were now holding hands just in time to see Sam get down on one knee, presenting a ring to Gabby.

“Gabby, we had some crazy times, especially as of late, but I couldn’t imagine it with literally anyone else. Will you do me the honour and the privilege of being my wife?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Gabby said, putting the ring on her finger as they kissed, earning jeers from the younger crowd.

Tara leaned into Jonathan as he put an arm around her, knowing that little moments like these were the precious gems of life. And no matter what horrors the future bore, Tara would cling to these little precious gems for dear life.

So that was act I! It ended cheesy, I know! But act II onwards is where the story really gets meaty (and saucy if you’re into that sort of thing) so stay tuned!

[finelinevogue]

he’s so vogue

Description - you are the journalist for the new Harry Styles December Vogue Issue

A/N - how is everyone doing? hope you enjoy! if you have any requests please feel free to ask. love you all and have a lovely rest of the week!

warnings: swearing

[masterlist]

Being a journalist for Vogue was probably the biggest flex you could ever make.

After 3 years of studying English Literature at Surrey University, you never thought, only a year after, you'd be working as an apprentice at Vogue UK. If it weren't for your Aunty, who worked in the fashion design section at Vogue HQ, then you'd no doubt still be a broke-ass, single, lonely student. Ok, lonely you still were but your job was so full-on that you didn't have time for a relationship.

Two years into your apprenticeship you were promoted to an official member of the team, and then another two years later you got promoted to team leader in your department of journalism, and editing; The Media - or as you like to call it - "The Celeb Goss". You were beyond happy with your job and found such passion in every article your wrote. Whether it be about a new celebrity romance or the collapse of one, you found a way to story-tell in such a meditated way that everyone loved your pieces.

That's why the Harry Styles had requested you to be the one to interview him.

Of course you'd written about A-list celebrities in the past, producing articles on pregnancy rumours, or engagements, or breakups, but you'd never met them before authoring an article. You'd met plenty of D-list celebrities who thought they were mega famous, but if you mentioned their names people would turn around and ask "who?".

This is why interviewing Harry Styles was a massive thing for you.

Not very often did you get to do work out in the field, especially in these covid infested days, but nevertheless it was your favourite part of the job. Getting to meet the people you were writing about was completely refreshing, allowing you to obtain a clearer outlook on which direction to take on your journal piece.

You were asked to go to Stonehenge, where the photoshoot was being filmed, as your office of interview. Even though you'd lived in the UK all your life, you'd never actually been to Stonehenge. It wasn't really on your bucket-list, but it was a pleasure to get to see it all the same.

Being the prepared interviewer you were, you'd prepared an array of questions that you were set on asking Harry. You'd never met him before, but after much googling and youtubing of him prior to meeting him today you would already be confident in saying he's the most brilliant man to ever exist. You were really nervous that you were going to screw this interview up and make a terrible mess in front of Harry Styles.

"Lisa! What if I accidentally say something I shouldn't?" You ran your stressed hands through your hair.

This whole morning had been frantic. It had started off by you waking up late, no thanks to Lisa, your best-friend and co-worker, pressing snooze on the alarm. You wanted to look professional today so you'd put on your best shirt - only to spill coffee down it ten minutes later. So now, you smelt of coffee and were wearing what was left in your wardrobe - and it wasn't much. The only things left clean were a pair of pink corduroy flares and some, pastel coloured, graphic t-shirt to go with it.    

"You won't. Stop being so negative." Lisa rolled her eyes, probably fed up with the amount of winging she'd heard from you this morning - and you'd only been awake an hour.

"My outfit is hardly professional either." You huffed, pouring the rest of your, second, coffee down the drain.

"Well I think you look gorgeous." Lisa stated, whilst putting her breakfast bar wrapper in the bin.

You and Lisa were back and forth about you stressing, and such, for about half an hour before you had to leave. You had a great panic about losing your glasses too. You could see without them up close, but for long distance viewing and reading you were practically blind. You were taking Lisa's car, since she didn't think you were emotionally stable enough to drive. Lisa was the creative director on the set, and thank goodness she was so you could at least ramble to someone.

After a two hour drive up from London, you arrived at Stonehenge and it was freezing. Although the sun was out, it did nothing to keep your body heated. The journey up had been nice because you sat in your nicely heated car, chatting away with Lisa and blasting some Harry Styles out of the speaker. You'd made it through the first album, and the second one up to Canyon Moon before reaching your destination.

Upon arriving you could just about, without glasses, make out about 15 other cars, arranged at the bottom of a hill. There was an array of Audis and BMWs, a few Range Rovers, which you placed your bets on one was Harrys, and a green, vintage, Jaguar which was most likely belonging to the fashion editor or something. There was also a modern barn, perched at the foot of the hill, which was where Harry would be getting changed in to his various different outfits.

It took you a moment to register that Lisa had parked and was already clambering out of the car, making you look a little idiotic still blankly staring at the beautiful scenes in front, and around, of you.

But it was still bloody freezing.

You jogged a little to the boot and whipped out your white cardigan. Originally you'd thought that this would've been enough to keep you warm, but now you were starting to think otherwise.

The atmosphere here was amazing. People were rushing around left, right and centre loading, and unloading, various pieces of equipment and clothes. You caught sight of brightly coloured fabrics being carried to and from various places. There were the camera crew, and presumably director, all chatting amongst themselves. The smell of the very fresh air was so lush that you'd forgotten what it smelt like - especially after years in London.

You grabbed your bag from the boot, which had your notes, recording kit and laptop stuffed inside, before locking the car and following Lisa in to the barn.

It was lovely and warm inside - a completely different climate to than the outside. It was as if it was Bali inside and Antarctica outside. Better Bali than Antarctica though.

"Ok. Let's put our stuff down over here and then go find people we need to meet and such." Lisa instructed, you still too in awe of the place to fully comprehend what was going on.

You followed Lisa and you two ended up dropping off your stuff next to some other bags. You took a liking to the purse next to your stuff. Next to your bag, it made yours seem ancient - like it was worth nothing more than a penny. It was luscious and a beautiful baby blue colour. You softly ran your hands over it, finding satisfaction in how smooth and subtle it was.

"Hope you're not planning on stealing that, love." A manly voice appeared from behind you. You whipped around to see who's bag you'd been messing with, and it was just your luck that it was to be Harry Styles'. Of all the people's it could've been it had to be his. 

Perfect.

He looked dashing. He was in black flares and his iconic 'But daddy i love him', t-shirt, along with a huge green anorak. His hair was prettily clipped back with a pink clip, presumably placed there to gave his curls greater volume. In his hand he had a pink toothbrush and you guessed he'd come back over to put it away in his bag - only to find you caressing it instead.

"Oh - no, no. Not at all. I - uh - I just thought it was beautiful." You stammered over your words, choosing them carefully to try and make you look less like an active criminal.

"Mhm." Harry nodded whilst looking you up and down, most likely judging why a peasant like you, in comparison to him, was touching his expensive property. "Well, I love your flares darlin'." Harry looked down at your trousers, his compliment making you blush a little.

"Thank you. That wasn't professional, and neither is my outfit, I know, and I apologise." You added, because you knew that if your boss knew you turned up today the way you did she would give you a right bollocking - and potentially even fire you.

"Never apologise for flares. You look amazing." Gemma perked up, making you feel more self conscious surrounded by all these other beautiful women. Gemma was in a slouchy, knitted, jumper and basic jeans - no doubt all from shops beyond your budget - and yet she looked like a model fit for the runway for Vogue.

"Okay, sorry." You apologised again, to which you, creepily, got the exact same, stern, look from the Styles siblings at the same time.

"My stylist, Harry, introduced me to big pants. He offered whether I wanted to try a pair of flares, and I was like, 'Flares? That's fucking crazy'!" Harry laughed as he told his story, earning a laugh out of you too. "Now they're my favourite item of clothing. Have a whole wardrobe dedicated to them."

"I wish he was joking." Gemma laughed at her brother and his flare obsession.

"Well you do look handsome in them, so I understand why." Your words rolls off your tongue before you could even comprehend what you were saying. Only after you finished your sentence did you completely intake what you'd just said.

"Good start." Lisa giggled to you, before turning to walk over to the coffee station. It was a help-yourself coffee bar and you knew that you were going to bed at least five cups to get over the last five minutes alone. You'd probably drain the station before letting anyone else have any.

"Oh god." You awkwardly mumbled, not daring to see how weirdly Harry would be looking at you, before walking off outside.

You had spent less than 10 minutes here and yet you'd never felt like a bigger clown. Joining the circus had never been so easy.

The outside wind hit you like a powerful leaf blower, and your hair blew around like crazy - most likely compiling into a birds nest on the top of your head.

Today was supposed to be the start of something great. Your hopes were set on a promotion from your written masterpiece, whilst enjoying the company of one of the most handsome, most lovely, most talented men of this century. Those hopes seemed a little too distant now. They seemed to mock you, as if to laugh at how you ever thought you were going to be any more successful. You'd completely, in more ways than one, made a fool of yourself in front of your interviewee, you were so underdressed, you were caught fondling his Gucci purse and you were still bloody cold.

It all felt too unprofessional for a job where professional was practically the driving force of the company.

You leaned against the barn, taking a deep breath to try and calm yourself. You were a master in over-thinking, but unfortunately that wasn't something you could add to your resumé. You let your eyes close and the other senses come alive for a few moments. The sounds of distant sheep and the smell of the cold wind were just two of the senses that allowed you to take a step back for a minute, and breathe.

"Thank you." A voice interrupted you from your attempt of quick meditation. You looked to your left and noticed Harry standing there, still in the same outfit as before.

"I'm sorry?" You asked confused, taking a step away from the barn to considerately pay more attention to him.

"Thank you - for saying I look handsome in flares." He repeated, smirking when he added the second part.

"Oh." Was all you could respond, feeling too embarrassed to take the conversation any further. "I should—" You pointed back to the barn, using it as an excuse to leave before yet screwed up anymore.

"Lisa told me you're the interviewer." Harry added, and it only occurred to you that you'd never actually introduced yourself. "So it's lovely to finally meet you Y/N." He stuck out his hand for your to shake, which you did willingly. His hands were a lot softer than you'd expected.

"Ho... You know my name?" You asked surprised.

"Of course. I also know you're the best writer in Vogue right now." He flattered you, which made you blush. You had a feeling he'd make you do that a lot today.

"Sure." You rolled your eyes as you spoke sarcastically.

"Well I chose you for a reason, didn't I?" He rhetorically asked.

"I mean.. I, well.. I don't know?" You stumbled over your words, making yourself look like a larger fool than you did already. Today was just turning out to be exactly what you didn't want it to be. "Sorry."

"Stop apologising. You do it too often." He told you, nearly making you apologise again but he gave you a jokingly stern look, as if he knew what you were going to say, and so you decided otherwise.

"Harry!" You both turned to see there was a man waving towards you both, but specifically to Harry. "Come get changed!" The same man shouted. Harry lifted his thumbs up, as if to signal he'd be there shortly.

Harry turned back to you and noticed you shiver a little.

"I'll start the interview after I come back from the dressing rooms, yeah?" Harry asked, taking off his, khaki green, trench-coat in the process. He handed it to you before you could oblige against it.

"Wait what?" You confusedly looked down at the coat and back up to Harry.

"Gives me a piece of mind knowing my interviewer isn't going to die of hypothermia before actually interviewing me." He smiled, obviously attempting to crack a joke and you have to admit you did laugh.

"Thank you." You say, before he runs off to where he's being called to.

                                                            ••••

You'd been sat inside for a little while, waiting for Harry to come back. It gave you time to perfect your questions though.

Thinking up questions to ask Harry had been a challenging task, but one that you'd been fully invested in. You loved creating questions to ask him that were going to get to understand him on a deeper level. He was a very private man, and you completely respected that. If you crossed any boundaries, with the questions you'd ask, you would write them out of the interview. You liked to think you hadn't thought up a question that would make him feel uncomfortable though.

Pissing off Harry would be on another level of shame.

"Coat kept you warm?" Harrys voice disengaged you from your notebook.

"Hm?" You asked then replayed what he'd just asked in your mind. "Oh, yes. Thank you very much." You stood up, from where you'd been perched on the floor, picking up your nearly finished green tea as you did so.

Only when you stood up did it come to your realisation that Harry was now in costume. He was dressed in luxury. Each item looked like it cost more than your rent, and that was saddening. He looked rich and luxurious. To be quite honest, you were finding it rather difficult to take your eyes off him.

"You think the outfit is Vogue enough?" Harry asked, striking a few poses, which made you laugh. It was refreshing to see him act so relaxed and carefree, rather than a stuck-up-prick you knew some celebrities to be.

"Completely. I love it!" You exclaimed, appreciating the twirl he did for you.

He was wearing a kilt-like skirt and he looked beyond beautiful in it. Fuck toxic masculinity. Fuck being a manly man - like what does that even mean? Harry was embracing gender fluidity and experimenting the ways in which there was no definitive line between men and women's clothes anymore, and you thought it was marvellous. Revolutionary, for times as politically and socially troubled as these.

You started removing the coat in attempt to give it back to him, but he refrained you from doing so by holding on to your forearm.

"Keep it. I thought we could go outside to start the interview, so you'll be needing that." Harry told you, and you agreed - however reluctantly that was. You couldn't really complain though, because the coat did kept you warm and, what's better, it smelt divine - just like you'd imagine Harry to smell.

"Okay. Thank you. Do you want to go now?" You asked hesitantly, not knowing whether he was busy for someone else right now.

"Whenever you're ready, love." He answered, making you feel more relaxed. He was going at your pace and was making you feel settled - he was even more of a gentleman than people described him to be.

The two of you had walked around the backside of the barn in silence, enjoying the comfort of each other's presence. Well, at least you were. It was a blessing no one was back here. It was just you, Harry and the scenery that surrounded Stonehenge.

You approached a bench and you plopped yourself down on one end, whilst Harry sat on the other. He respected the fact that there was a pandemic going on, and didn't want to make you uncomfortable in any way. You still had your mask on, so Harry had taken that as you were very conscious about the virus - which he admired.

You pulled out your glasses, from the depths of one of the coat pockets, and placed them on your face, probably making yourself look even geekier than you already felt. Today was just one of those days you wished you had good eyes...

You opened your spent notebook, musty pages practically falling apart, and turned to the section of questions you needed for that interview. You were so nervous already and you hadn't even asked anything yet, all because of the previous interactions with Harry today. Your shaky hands shuffled through the pages and you cursed under your breath when you struggled to find what you needed.

"Shoot. Come on." You mumbled quietly under your breath, hoping it would make this terrible situation end faster. You mustn't have been as quiet as you thought though.

"Y/N." Harry's name broke through your clouded mind of self-disappointment.

You looked up at him to see him softly smiling at you, blowing all worries away from you away with the wind. "Yes?" You timidly asked, pushing your wind-swept hair out of glasses - where it'd gotten caught.

"You’re alright, love. You don't have to be professional around me, alright? We're just two strangers having a conversation, to get to know each other, okay?" If his words didn't calm you enough, the soothing sound of his husky voice certainly did.

"But that would mean you asking me stuff too?" You replied, confused at his implications of the phrasing 'getting to know each other'.

"Mhm." Harry nodded his head.

"Oh I don't know Mr Styles, i'm not a very interesting person." You answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, pushing your glasses back up the bridge of your nose from where they'd fallen.

"I refuse to believe that." Harry chuckled, making a quick smile appear on your face. "And please call me Harry. Just Harry." He begged, obviously finding it weird you calling him by his professional title. All you wanted, ever, was for your interviewee's to feel comfortable and safe, so if Harry wanted you to call him Harry then so be it.

"Ok, Harry," you sarcastically said, earning a shake of the head on his behalf, "you can ask me a few questions throughout the day." You told him, but you knew he'd struggle to find even two questions when he realises how bland you are.

"Does that mean you only get to ask me a few as well?" Harry smirked, already knowing the answer to that question. Unlike Harry, you had to write an article about today when you got home and so he knew that you'd have to dig as much dirt as possible from him.

"No, sorry. I don't particularly want to lose my job." You paused to look down at your notes, squinting a little as you did to see better. "Okay. Tell me your experience with corona virus."

"Sorry I didn't quite catch that, love." Harry apologised, leaning in slightly to see if he could hear you a second time around.

"Sorry." You looked down to fiddle with your fingers - a habit you'd undertaken when you're embarrassed. "Um..," you cleared your throat, "would you mind if I took off my mask?"

Your timid voice sent tingle down Harrys spine. He didn't think anyone could ever be this sweet. "Not at all, ‘course you can." He replied, again, wanting to make you feel as comfortable as possible.

You hesitantly took off your face mask, feeling like you were in some dramatic movie where they face revealed someone. You kind of liked having the mask on, because, for one, it kept you warm, and for two, you were a little self conscious with how you looked compared to all the other women here today. You shoved the mask in your pocket, with trembling fingers, before looking back down to your notes.

"Woah." You heard Harrys voice being mumbled under the wind. You eyes shot up to his and you noticed him staring right back at you.

"W-what? Is my acne playing up? I knew I should've—" You self-consciously run your hands over the areas you know you got acne. The masks really didn't help when it came to skin care.

"Hey, stop. No. You just... You look beautiful." Harry complimented you, and a roaring blush arose on to your cheeks. You'd never been called beautiful before, and so you were taking the compliment like such a 13-year old.

"Oh, uh, thank you." You awkwardly answered, not really having any other words come to mind in that moment. Harry chuckled under his breath, still keeping eyes on you for some reason.

"Would you mind repeating your last question, I didn't quite catch it?" Harry asked politely.

"Sure. Um, tell me how you've experienced corona virus." You repeated for him, gripping ahold of your pen to start copying what he says and pressing start on your recording device in case you needed it later.

"Well, it's been tedious that's for sure. However, I just want people to be safe and for life to return back to normal, so therefore i've been very MIA for a lot of the time. Keeping to myself mostly. I only went out for hikes or bike rides. All my meetings were online, so it's been very lonely." Harry kept eye contact with your figure the entire time, and if it weren't for you concentrating on writing what he was saying then you'd probably melt away under his gaze.

For such soft eyes he sure was intimidating.

"I presume the loneliness sent you crazy at times." You laughed, because you sure felt that way through lockdown. Curse being single.

"You have no idea." Harry laughed along with you, making you, slowly, feel more at ease.

"Actually, you'd be surprised." You looked at him unsure, before returning down to your notebook.

"Okay then, first question from me," Harrys words made your head shoot up, "How can someone as amazing as yourself be lonely?" He asked and you made a mental tally of how many questions he'd asked.

"Could ask you the very same question, Harry." You slyly replied, avoiding the question by answering with another question. It was a tactic you'd learnt, throughout your years of journalism, when you wanted to dismiss something .

"That's cheating." Harry pointed at you and raised his eyebrows, but you couldn't take your eyes off the big, cheeky, smile perched on his face. You shrugged you're shoulders in defence and returned to your questions. "But you did just call me amazing, so I think i'll let it slide this one time." You blushed, again, when you understood what he meant.

He was amazing though - that was the truth.

"You were in L.A. for the majority of quarantine, am I right to say?" You already knew the answer but your manager had just wanted confirmation.

"Yeah, but L.A. feels like holiday, whereas London feels like home." He answered, which you appreciated. He hasn't got lost in the way that Hollywood could let people. He'd stayed grounded.

"So what did you entertain yourself with during quarantine?" You asked curiously, slightly side-tracking from your pre-written questions - just because you were intrigued (nosey).

"Not much, not to be boring. I ate a lot of bread. I worked out pretty much every day. I wrote quite a bit actually." He used his fingers to pinch his bottom lip, something you'd noticed he did in interviews.

"Does that mean a new album on the way?" Your inner fangirl was screaming at the thought of HS3.

"Can neither confirm nor deny." Harry smirked to himself, like the cheeky bugger he is.

"That's a yes then." You joked, pretending to write it down in your notes.

"You're impossible, you." Harry laughed and shook his head. It made you feel all funny the way you could make him smile like that. You were the source of his happiness for just that moment, and that was enough to make you feel happy for a lifetime - not that he felt the same.

"Next question," you stated, moving swiftly on because you knew you had limited time, "How's your experience with Vogue been so far?"

"Wonderful. Everyone has been so welcoming and that makes it so much easier for me to have fun. It's daunting going at things alone, but i'm getting slowly used to it now." Harry sniffled a little, probably due to the freezing cold weather here.

"Must be strange, not having four best friends around you, all the time, anymore." You stated rather than asked him, sure that he was missing his bandmates. I mean, you were - so he definitely would be.

"Brothers." Harry replied, making you look up at him confused.

"I'm sorry?" You asked, giving him your full attention.

"You said four best friends. Well, actually they're my brothers." His words actually caused a rift in your heart. You could feel it being pulled apart and torn in to two. If you wrote this in to the magazine the fans would have a worldwide passing-away-party.

"Harry." You said softly, slightly tearing up at his words. "God, I swear i'm not normally this emotional." You chest your throat and try to establish your dignity - however there wasn't that much left anymore.

"Oh shut up." Harry looked away obviously trying to hide the fact that he was tearing up too. You laughed at him but didn't draw any more attention to it than you guessed he would've wanted.

"They mean a lot to you then?" You asked, hopefully not treading on any unwanted territories.

"Much more than a lot, yeah." Harry nodded his head, turning it back to face you. He could tell this conversation was now off-the-record because of your closed notebook, your undivided attention towards him and the fact you’d turned off the recording device. He liked being able to look at you, rather than the top of your head. He swore you were the prettiest girl he'd ever seen.

"You still see them often?" 

"Not as often as i'd like. Niall did come around the other week to drop off some old guitars he didn't want anymore, and then we ended up playing around with some music for a bit." He admitted, which stitched your heart back together.

"So does that mean a Narry collab?" You teased, biting your bottom lip in anticipation.

"Narry? You so are a directioner." He laughed along with you.

"And you just avoided my question, therefore there is a song out there written only by you and Niall." You concluded, which shut him up.

This conversation was going a lot better than expected. Certainly a lot better than earlier. You will be permanently scarred by the way you spoke to him and handled his belongings. It was going to haunt you forever - and yet he'd forget about it by tomorrow. Or maybe he wouldn't, which is why you felt the need to apologise.

"Harry?" You asked, clearly indicating this was still a conversation away from the interview.

"Yes Y/N?" He watched you intently, listening to your every word.

"I, um, just wanted to apologise for my behaviour earlier. I was just really nervous to meet you, and to be honest still am. I didn't mean to touch your stuff without your consent and I certainly didn't mean to make you uncomfortable with any of my comments. So, i'm sorry. I can only imagine the awful, yet true, things you must think of me." You rambled really quickly, that you were uncertain whether Harry even caught one word of what you'd says.

"Do you know why I asked for you to interview me Y/N?" Harry asked, which wasn't the first thing you expected him to say after your apology.

"No. I...well Lisa told me it was because I can write well or something." You suggested, not wanting to sound egotistical.

"I mean you do write perfectly, but no." You were intrigued now. "I asked for you because I, and this is not for your magazine, have a secret - but not-so-secret - crush on you." This time it was Harrys turn to blush.

"Harry... you don't have to say that to—"

"I'm not saying it for anything. I sincerely think you are the most delightful, most prettiest, most fucking sweetest person i've ever met." Harry exclaimed, which you were taken aback by. Never, ever, did you think that Harry Styles would proclaim his likeness towards you. Ever.

"Harry don't mess with me, please." You shyly spoke, tilting your head down in disbelief that the Harry Styles was smitten about you.

He shuffled along the bench, stopping a little way from you but close enough to reach out for you. Your heartbeat increased when you noticed his hand move closer towards you. It didn't stop till he reached your face. He took his time, courteously, pushing your hair behind your ear before removing you of your glasses. He held the right-eye frame and slowly pulled the glasses off your face.

Once he'd successfully taken them off he folded them up and placed them alongside your closed notebook.

"Can see those pretty eyes now." He whispered quietly, but loud enough for you to hear.

"Don't lie. They're so dull." You mumbled, lifting your head up slightly. His face was still away from you.

"Not to me they're not." He retaliated, looking deep into your eyes as you did his. "I hate this corona virus."

"Why?" His words were so out of the blue sometimes, it gave you whiplash.

"Because I can't be as near to you as I want to be." Harry told you. And yeah, you hated corona too. It was getting a little laborious now.

"Smooth, Styles." You chuckled. You wondered how many new and weird pick-up lines could be made from covid. 

"I know." He winked, which honestly would have made you throw up if it were any other man on the planet. Somehow, though, Harry just made it seem attractive - along with every other thing that man ever did. "After this, would you like to come back to my house for a cuppa tea?" He asked sweetly, like a five year old asking whether you wanted to play together.

"Okay. Lisa was my ride though." You said more to yourself than anything else, debating on how you'd even get to Harrys. Uber? Taxi? Lisa? Walk?

"I'll drive us, it's fine. I have to drop Gem off, but i'd be more than happy to chauffeur you." Harry kindly offered, to which you were internally screaming about. You were literally, and metaphorically, having a field-day with all this Harry content and interview.

"Are you sure? I don't want to be a burden." You question politely, not wanting to overstep any boundaries - especially in these covid infested times.

"Of course. I wouldn't have offered otherwise." He protested, waving his hand at if to say it was no bother. You were already trying to work out, in your head, how much petrol money you were going to owe him.

"Then i'd be honoured to have a brew with you Harry." You giggled at how cringe you were being, even if this was just your normal self speaking.

"Great." Harry genuinely smiled, teeth and all. "My shoot should take a couple of hours, but feel free to continue to write and journal. I'm looking forward to reading this particular article." He winked at you before standing up.

"Wonder why?" You sarcastically asked, knowing full-well it was due to his exposure of his own feelings towards you. Even though you'd never says anything back you were quite in agreement on how you felt about him, like he did you. He would be a narcissist to say he knew you liked him the same, out loud, but he knew. And you knew that he knew.

"Wonder why indeed." He gave you one last smile before he'd disappeared for the rest of the afternoon, leaving you to digest and relive the past half an hour or so.

Being Harry Styles' crush was probably the biggest flex you could ever make.

                                                          ••••

After Harry had finished up his shoot he was quick to come find you again.

You'd watched parts of his shoot and he looked magnificent. There wasn't a good enough word to describe how amazing he looked. Harry, his stylist, was probably the best stylist out there. His fashion choices were unmatched and you wanted him to be yours. You were not rich enough nor fashionable enough, ironic for working in a a fashion company, to hire a stylist, but you would if you could.

You were so proud to see what he was achieving now as the person that he was. Harry was just being Harry, without the devilish control of shitty managements or ridiculous amounts of PR stunts. Harry was more free than ever, and it definitely showed just how much he was enjoying it.

You were certain that this Vogue magazine would break the internet - his fans were good at doing that. This could be a turning point for many people, with their outdated and ignorant views. There was no room for people with racist or homophobic or transphobic or xenophobic - and the list does go on - views anymore.

You were waiting by the front door of the barn, to catch Harry as he walked past. You caught sight of him in a white robe, presumably to get changed back into his everyday clothes. He looked really pretty in the robe - very domestic actually.

Today had been a good day.

Harry asked you to send over the more specific Vogue questions to him via email, so he could devote more time in to answering them in a lot more depth. You thought he meant you'd be sending them to some PA in his team, but you were shocked to understand he'd given you his personal email.

People were walking back to their cars and packing away the filming kit. You saw Lisa and the director talking to one another, no doubt discussing some in-work gossip.

"You ready?" Harrys voice reminded you that you'd been waiting for him. You looked to see he was back in the same clothes as this morning, only this time without his coat.

"Here?" You offered, having him over the coat once again but he declined.

"Looks better on you anyways." He winked at you, before walking through the car park and to his car. You were very surprised when you found out Harry was the one to own the green Jaguar. You assumed all celebrities drove the Range Rover, but no. The vintage car added to Harrys immaculate vibe and just made him that little bit more hot.

Harry properly introduced you to Gemma, who was equally as lovely as Harry. They were both amazing people and they were crazily alike. From the way they looked, down to the way they phrased their words, they were mistakingly twins. Gemma explained how Anne, their mum, didn't know they were doing this photoshoot and that it was going to be a surprise, which you thought was so cute.

Gemma spilt a lot of gossip on Harry, to which he got very embarrassed over. You learnt that Harrys first word was Cat. You learnt that Harry is godfather to multiple children, which you found heartwarming. You learnt Harry used to be a baker - which was something he elaborated on for a good half an hour. Harry was just a fountain of memories and Gemma was the one sharing them all with you.

The drive back to London was relaxed. You sat in the back, listening to Harry and Gemma pointlessly argue whilst an Arctic Monkeys album played in the background. You forgot that people like Harry drove, and listened to music, just like other regular people. You often misplaced celebrities in society, thinking they had everything done for them but in reality that (often) wasn't the case - at least not for Harry.

Gemma was dropped off quickly before Harry drove to his. It was no surprise that the Styles siblings didn't live too far away from each other. Harrys house was beautiful. Bigger than anything you could ever dream of buying. It was a palace compared to your cupboard-sized house. You were unbelievably jealous. He gave you the tour of the house, showing you where the toilets were, and even his panic room if necessary.

You migrated to the kitchen for a bit, talking about anything and everything. Getting to know the minuscule pieces of information that no-one else was trusted with, made you feel special. Harry made you feel special - even if he weren't meaning to.

Every moment held a spark. Every touch set off a firework. Every laugh was an electric burst. He made you feel so alive.

"We can go to the living room after this has boiled." Harry said, pointing towards the streaming kettle. He wanted to show off his fancy tea collection he had, and let you have a try if you wanted to. Harry was boring and chose the basic green tea, but, after much deliberation, you chose the cranberry green tea. It intrigued you and it sounded delicious.

"Why the extensive tea collection?" Not even you, a certified caffeine addict, had this much tea in your house. Coffee was a different story and one in which you didn't want to talk about.

"They help me with my meditation." He took the teabags and placed them in his glass mugs. They had a delicate Gucci stamp on them, and you just imagined that they probably worth the same amount as your daily salary.

"You meditate?" You were slightly surprised that he did.

"I try to yeah." Harry nodded, focusing on pouring in the boiling water into the mugs. "I've got very tight hamstrings and so it helps if I meditate twice a day."

Harry finished making the tea, in the light-filled kitchen, before showing you around to the open-lounge area. Everything was modern and chic. It was exactly how you imagined it, but better. The open, red-brick, wall was a beautiful feature and one that you were a whore for! It reminded you of New York and the memories you'd made there one summer.

The sofa was a beautiful velvet, green, sofa. It was soft and gentle, a lot like Harry when you thought about it. The whole house was an architectural masterpiece and you'd be lying if you said you weren't jealous. You sat on one end and Harry went to go and sit on the other end.

"I don't bite you know?" You joked, self-consciously wondering whether he didn't want to be sat near you.

"I know, I just don't want to step on any of your covid boundaries - which is perfectly fine by the way." He added, apprehensively taking the spot next to you.

"No, not at all." You ushered him to sit next to you, as you took a sip from your steaming hot cup of fruity tea. "If I smell though, do tell me!"

"Yeah, you smell bloody awful!" Harry sarcastically remarked, but laughing afterwards to assure you he was joking. The atmosphere went quiet for a minute, only the sounds of passing cars and deep breaths being heard.

"Y/N can I ask you something?" Harry turned the tone of the conversation. It sounded like he wanted to be more serious than you two were being beforehand.

"Anything." You encouraged him to continue. You placed the cup of tea down on the table, deciding it was too hot to drink right now, and gave him your full attention.

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" Harry questioned. You didn't think you'd be having a conversation this intense - especially if you had different opinions - on your first day of knowing each other, but here you were.

"I believe you can love someone at first sight. I don't believe you can be in love with someone at first sight. Why?" You were curious as to how his brain had journeyed to this particular topic. You'd never really had this conversation with anyone before, mainly because you were unaware of the true power, and meaning, of love.

"It uh... It doesn't matter." Harry shook his head and you could tell by his body language that he was shutting you out. Maybe you'd made him uncomfortable.

"Sorry I didn't mean to—"

"No, no. Please don't apologise. It's just - I like you a lot more than you may think." Harry shyly told you, which made you all soft inside. He was being vulnerable and that was something you admired in a partner. You didn't just need love, affection and trust in a relationship. No. You needed vulnerability and heartbreak too, and Harry was revealing that part of him to you.

"I like you a lot more than you think too." You repeated, not because you felt bad for him but because you truly did like him a whole lot. Love was a weird yet wonderful thing, and if you were to hazard a guess you'd say you loved Harry. 

You couldn't wait to be in love with him.

"Does that mean I get to crown you my girlfriend?" Harry excitedly asked. Harry happy was something that should be made a constant, and you were more than happy to be in control of that.

"At least take me out first." You bargained, wishing for nothing more than to go on a date with Harry. Where you'd go, you had no idea. Everything was closed right now and there was still the chance of becoming sick with corona, but no doubt Harry would think of something not only clever, but special.

Of course you'd love to be Harrys girlfriend. However, you wanted one more, official, opportunity to really get to know him - unprofessionally. You wanted to make sure that you knew, and he knew, that you wanted to be with him because he was the charming Harry you've come to love, not because he was Harry Styles.

"So you're allowing me to take you on a date?" Harry smirked like a little child, your heart fluttering at how excited he was to be able to treat you to dinner.

"Yes, Harry. Yes I am." You answered sweetly, offering him the cutest smile you could.

You can't believe what a turn of events today has been. You've gone from nearly writing yourself on Harrys enemy list to writing yourself on to his 'people he's dated' list. Who knows what the future would offer you. At the start of the day you had wished this whole day to end and for the ground to just swallow you up, now you never wanted it to end. It was too perfect to be true and yet it was.

Harry was the most wonderful human to exist and you were beyond surprised to be the one to catch his attention. You didn't understand why you were so special, but it was nice to feel like this for a change. It was nice to feel wanted.

                                                             ••••

A few months later and you were officially Harrys girlfriend.

It had been such a crazy few months. Harry religiously took you out on dates every week. Whether it be to grab a hotdog at a local diner, a coffee from a quaint cafe, a walk in Hyde Park or a late-night drive around London - which normally ended up with you falling asleep before you could make it back to yours. On sleepless jet-lagged nights he'll still drive through London's quiet streets, seeing neighborhoods in a new way, just as an excuse to spend time with you.

Harry often stayed over at yours. Even though you looked like you lived in a shoebox compared to Harry, he liked it. He liked the subtly and normality of it all. He wanted your life to remain as normal as possible and, apart from the occasional paparazzi incident, it did. You never had anything to complain about. Of course the online bullying created emotional wounds, at the start of your relationship, but it was nothing that Harry couldn't repair with a bit of love.

Lisa has nominated herself to be maid-of-honour when the day comes - if the day comes. Harry has already pinky sworn that you are it for him. The one, as some may say. You were utterly flattered, but you certainly unsure of what the future help for you both.

You loved Harry, you do love Harry and you will forever always love Harry.

It was ridiculous to think that all this stemmed from you working at Vogue. From you studying English Literature in a city away from London. From you dedicating you extra hours gaining work experience and money to be able get in and afford university. So many moments in life have you stopped and said 'i wish i hadn't have done that', but now you were convinced that they were the best things to have happened to you - because they lead you, all, to Harry.

And, being Harry Styles girlfriend was probably the biggest flex you could ever make.

[redasmyblood]

Crossroads

Jake and Sam Kiszka x Reader

Request | I wish I could write but the one that’s been in my head for a hot minute is you go on vacation with the guys, you and Sammy are best friends since kidhood so he’s unfazed by anything you do. You both are early birds and he joins you to sun yourself by the pool and of course to not get tan lines you go topless. Well jake eventually comes out and is like 👀 Sammy my boy if you ain’t gonna kiss that golden skin I will and it eventually leads to you X Sam X jake morning poolside

Warnings | Explicit sexual content, cursing, exhibitionism, oral (m and f receiving), hair pulling, overstimulation, getting interrupted

Word Count | 2.7k words

Authors Note | So i got this request and i'll be honest, I'm a bit hesitant but this particular pairing has been asked of me multiple times. Although it makes me nervous to post, I will do it for you my lovely anon <3

~

Almost every summer you and the boys go on vacation to the famous Kiszka cottage-house and this year is no exception. You've all known each other since what feels like the dawn of time and once a tradition has been made between you five, it will be carried out for the rest of your lives.

You and Sam have grown the closest over the years, from you both being the youngest sibling to the fact that you both play piano. Something inside you has always felt more for Sam that you'd like to admit but after having been around him so long you've learned to repress your feelings and accept the fact that he probably just views you as more of a sister. Instead of dwelling on your feelings you just embrace the friendship more, not letting it get in the way of enjoying being around him and of course, that's what you plan to do this week at the cottage, like you would any other time.

This morning the weather is perfect. Hot, the sky cloudless and effortlessly blue. It poses as the perfect opportunity to spend the day lounging on the dock, a glass of lemonade in hand and some peace and quiet. You change into a random bathing suit that you shoved into the bottom drawer of your dresser when you were here last. Once you're dressed and have retrieved a towel, you head downstairs, opting to make a pitcher of lemonade before you make your way outside. It's still early and the house is quiet, clearly no one else is awake yet. You love the feeling of having the house all to yourself, even if everyone is just sleeping and you're not actually alone.

"Whatcha doin'?" Sam's voice cuts through the silence, light and yet somehow still fairly thick with sleep, it shakes you. Of course he's awake, you two are the early risers of the group.

"Making some lemonade before I head out and soak up all that beautiful sunshine."

He smiles, casting his gaze to the sliding glass doors that lead to the glittering lake. "Mind if I join?"

Although you planned for peace and quiet you can never say no to spending a day with Sam, he always manages to make things that much more fun, he's like your own personal ray of sunshine. Sometimes you wonder if he feels the same way about you...

With a shake of you head to clear the unwarranted thoughts you put on a smile "Of course not, I'd love it if you did. Want me to grab you a glass?"

With a contented hum he nods and then murmurs a meet you outside before he pads back down the hall, presumably to change into a bathing suit of his own.

As soon as you step outside the sun warms you from head to toe. Setting everything down on one of the small lawn tables that adorns the dock you stretch your arms above your head, a groan passing your lips. Before laying down on the patio chair you pull the strings of your bikini top and let it fall to the ground. If you can avoid embarrassing tan lines, you will.

"Did you put on sunscreen, young lady?" Sam has a goofy smile adorning his lips as he approaches you, throwing his towel down on top of yours and sitting in the chair next to you. His eyes briefly flicker down to your chest but nothing in his expression says that the sight has effected him in any way... it almost bothers you. Self consciously you slip an arm over your breasts to cover them.

"Not yet, do you wanna help me out with that?" You lend a flirty cadence to your voice and wiggle your shoulders.

"Well lookie here, what are you two little deviants up to? Getting it on nice and early when no one else is awake to see?" Jake, not usually one to wake up any time before noon is dressed in a pair of bright red swim trunks and has a book tucked under his arm, he cuts into your conversation, walking up and taking the open seat next to Sam.

"Shut up Jake, you know it's not like that." Sam is so quick to respond that you almost want to be offended but Jake puts an end to your thoughts with his typically wittiness.

"Well if you won't, I will."

"Really fucking charming Jacob, thanks for that." You give him the finger and scoff, rolling your eyes playfully. "You still gonna help me with my sunscreen Sammy?"

The younger of the brothers looks away from you, possibly a bit embarrassed about what Jake said... but why? It's not like he feels that way towards you.

So of course, with Sam's response or... lack thereof Jake steps forward. "I'll help you, lay down."

You briefly uncover yourself to lay down and as Jake passes by Sam you hear him mumble just fucking look at her. Obviously you weren't supposed to hear his remark but it lights a fire in your stomach. Even though you and Jake are known for your mindless flirting and whatnot you can help but admit that it does feel like a little bit more sometimes. The fucking Kiszka's, each stealing your heart in their own way.

You feel Jake mount the chair, putting his legs on either side of yours so he can kneel over you. You unconsciously roll your shoulders back, awaiting his touch. Straining to listen you finally hear the sound of the sunscreen and then Jake's hands are on you. You shiver at the coolness which greatly contrasts the heat of the sun and Jake lets out a small chuckle.

His hands slowly work up your back, thumbs gently pressing into your skin. You can feel that he's leaned over you fairly close, his hair tickling your shoulders when his hands trail farther upwards. You tilt your head to the side and when yours eyes find Sam, he's watching intently.

"Fuck, Jake!" You suck in a breath through your teeth when he presses down a particular spot that sends a sharp jolt of pain up your spine but quickly it ebbs away into pleasure when he keeps rubbing his fingers over it. You can't really complain that this has basically just turned into a massage.

"You like that? Hmm?" His breath is fanning over your neck now, lips dangerously close to making contact with your skin. "You wanna get her legs, Sam?"

Although it isn't necessary for them both to be applying the sunscreen, something about makes your mind fuzzy with lust. Having both boys touching you like that at the same time feels like a dream.

Sam doesn't verbally respond but you watch him get up out of his seat and walk to the end of the chair. Jake gets off of you and kneels at your side, gently taking your arm and massaging the sunblock into your skin.

You once again hear the sound of the bottle opening and closing and the familiar cool feeling strikes you when Sam puts his hands on you. It feels like he's holding back which you want to point out but once again Jake presses down on a particularly tense spot and you cry out, arching your back slightly but not enough to be overly visible.

"You sound so pretty." Jake whispers and it probably should feel weird, he's your childhood best friend but something about the way he's touching you makes all of that melt away.

Sam's hands continue to travel up your legs and when he starts to rub the sunscreen into the tops of your thighs, carefully moving around your bathing suit you tip your head up to look at him. "You might as well just take them off."

Sam's eyes widen, pupils blown wide to match. So maybe you've misjudged the way he feels about you? He slips them down your legs tentatively and takes a deep breath, then starts to dance his fingers over the flesh of your ass. A breathy moan slips past your lips and without thinking you reach back and card your fingers through his hair, pulling his face so that it's just hovering over your skin.

"Look at you, so needy." Jake is sitting in front of you now, holding your other hand and massaging it.

"Jake--" You breathe, fingers tightening in Sam's hair. You squirm against the chair and press yourself back against Sam's touch which is still focused on teasing over your ass. "Touch me, Sammy."

"I am touching you, baby." You can feel his breath against your skin and it makes groan. The pet name is new to you and floods your stomach with warmth.

"Please, Sam!"

"What do you want?" His voice is soft yet teasing and to add to your frustration Jake starts to kiss each of your knuckles one at a time before making his way up your arm.

"I want you to touch me." Ever the tease, you roll your eyes.

"Where," the word shakes you to your core, arousal heating your entire body even more so than the sun.

You spread your legs for him and with the hand in his hair you move it to circle his wrist, bringing it between your thighs.

"Look at her, she wants your fingers in her cunt, how precious." Jake has now made his way to your shoulder, lips trailing up to your neck.

Sam pulls away to wipe hands on the towel to your right and the he finds his position at the end of the chair again. His fingers tease over your entrance but from the angle he doesn't have much space for his hand. Pulling away from Jake you bring yourself up onto all fours and arch your back, pushing yourself into Sam's face.

Jake has stood up now, towering over you and when your eyes lock your entire body goes stiff, the way he's looking at you like he wants to eat you alive is one of the hottest things you've ever witnessed.

"Kiss me, Jake."

"You're just full of commands today, aren't you?"

As you scoff at Jake, Sam pulls your hips back and finally slips his fingers inside of you, gently curling them and drawing a moan out of you, all the while Jake has bent down and taken your chin in between his thumb and forefinger. "You want it?"

"So bad, please, Jakey."

The kiss is surprisingly gentle which totally contradicts the roughness you were expecting. You clench down on Sam's fingers, the sensations filling every crevice of your nervous system. Sam's hand recedes from between your legs and you whimper into Jake's mouth at the loss of contact but soon enough you feel the younger of the two pushing your knees further apart and the tickle of his hair brushing your legs as he slots himself under you.

"Sit down, pretty girl." He chimes, biting and grabbing at the flesh of your thighs.

You probably should be embarrassed by how quickly you follow his order but with his and Jake's hands and mouths on you, it's very hard to think straight. Sam's lips latch onto you as you slowly lower yourself but he can sense your hesitation.

"Come on, sit down, don't be shy."

Giving in you let yourself sit down, still holding a small bit of weight off of him but successfully trapping him beneath you nonetheless. You lurch forward when he dips his tongue into your experimentally, instinctively reaching your hands into Jake's hair and pulling him closer. He smiles against your lips and keeps the smirk when he pulls away and straightens up your eyes now level with the very prominent bulge in his swim trunks.

"Wanna do me a favor and put that mouth to good use?" He teases, petting your head and letting his hand find home at the base of your neck.

Once again your body steals forwards, Sam's tongue drawing circles over your clit already has you seeing stars. You moan in response to Jake's words, unable to form a coherent thought. You reach forgot to palm him through the fabric and his head tips back, hips jutting forward to meet your touch.

"That feel good J- Jakey?" Your body has begun to tremble as Sam continues to work under you, coaxing out an orgasm like no one else ever has. The fingers of his right hand dig into your thigh and the others slip up between your legs to push into you again.

"Open your mouth." The command is issued harshly and you now find yourself desperately rocking your hips, losing yourself in the pace of Sam's fingers and tongue.

Jake pulls his hard cock out of his swim trunks and gives it a few strokes before he taps it against your tongue, teasing you.

"Give it to me, Jake," You practically growl when he pulls away to jerk himself off in front of you, putting on quite the show. At this rate you're so close to cumming that you can practically taste it.

Without wasting another second Jake slowly slides himself into your mouth, putting his hands on either side of your head to guide his own pace. He goes slow at first, allowing you to get used to the intrusion but when you start moaning around him, reaching out to dig your nails into his hips he really starts to move, basically fucking your mouth without mercy.

"Fuck-- You're taking me so well, such a pretty mouth--" The sight of Jake's head tipping back, mouth open in an o shape and his eyes squeezed shut mixed with Sam's unrelenting fingers and mouth sends you sailing over the edge.

Your body stiffens, so lost in the pleasure that you can't move at all. Your moans only spur Jake on further as he still thrusts into your mouth. He pulls away as you come down, switching to a slower pace as he works himself in front of you.

"Fuck, Sammy, that was amazing--" You try to pull your hips away but he holds you still, keeping you pressed against him. He shifts enough so that if he speaks you can hear him properly.

"Oh, I'm not done yet baby, sit back down."

A whine tears it's way out of your chest when shoves his fingers back inside of you mumbling so wet into your cunt which vibrates throughout your entire body from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes.

"Open back up, I'm not done here either."

Nudging your lips with the head of his cock you part them for Jake without a second thought allowing him to fit himself back into your mouth. Again he sets an aggressive pace, very clearly chasing his release and nothing more.

Your thighs shake around Sam's head, the feeling of his tongue becoming overwhelming but also somehow dull, as if its not quite enough to satiate you. You try to focus on Jake instead, now bobbing your head in time with his thrusts and zoning into helping him chase his release.

"I'm so close-- Fuck-- So pretty--"

Out of nowhere you feel yourself teetering the edge of another orgasm. It's different this time, a far more electric feeling building in the pit of your stomach. You grind yourself down onto Sam's lips harder, shamelessly riding his face.

"Where do you want it baby?" Jake huffs out, pulling his cock from your mouth to let you reply.

"In my mouth, please Jake, do it--"

With a groan and another tug of his dick Jake cums all over your outstretched tongue and lips. Your body once again goes into a state of shock, the pleasure filling you with a pleasant buzz that renders you immobile.

"You're mouth is magical." Jake chuckles, tapping your lips with his pointer finger before tucking himself back into his swim shorts.

From under you Sam slides out from between your legs and stands so he can stretch. You notice a fairly obvious print in his own shorts and you reach for him, pulling him by the waistband of his shorts.

"You want me Sammy?" You're looking up at him through your lashes and a groan escapes his lips, his eyes glued to your mouth.

"So bad, you don't know how long-- Shit, put your bathing suit back on!" Sam pulls away, anxiously running a hand through his hair while raising the other in greeting "Morning, Josh! Coming out to enjoy the sun with us?"

Jake laughs at Sam's babbling and you can't help but crack a smile as well as you fasten the strings of your top around your back and struggle to grab your bottoms and slide them back on.

The eldest brother of the Kiszka's pads up onto the dock and takes a seat next to you, barely taking notice of all three of your guilty looking faces and your extremely disheveled state.

"You guys gonna go for a swim?"

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