#six pillar shuffle

[instant-delusions]

.·:*¨༺𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔥𝔦

wind pillar || shinazugawa sanemi × f! reader

cw! - sanemi behavior, smut (public sex, degradation, unprotected sex)

requests : open

nsfw under the cut

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

green fields, red roofs, a little path leading into a forest. little girls wearing cream colored yukatas while walking hand in hand, chatting happily. those little scenes pass you by quickly, as you sat next to shinazugawa sanemi on the infamous mugen train. it was quiet and empty, probably because of everything that happened here before.

ten minutes ago, sanemi and you boarded mugen train for a mission all the way in niigata prefecture. a snowy, mountainous region, which means excruciating work for your body. niigata - that's a long, three hour ride - obviously, you instantly claimed the window seat of your booth and with an exaggerated sigh, the pillar sat next to you, reading through some details of your mission. and since then, it's been unbearably quiet.

you met sanemi six months ago - mitsuri dragged you along to one of the hashiras drinking parties. obviously, she noticed you eyeing the wind hashira with a blush and instantly pulled you into the women's bathroom. "sanemi?" she sqeaked with a quick twirl, it's no use denying, so you nodded with a bashful smile. quickly, she filled you into his relationship status and gave you a brief overview of his character, "he's a challenge, (y/n). you're gonna love it, though, I know your type, he's that... times a million." with a new-found confidence, (after two peptalks from your friend), you downed another sake shot and made your way over to sanemi, who stood outside, smoking a kiseru.

"that's impressive" you commented, after he puffed out the smoke in a circle. watching it disintegrate into the night, he spoke "it's nothing. my dad, that wretched bastard, could do jellyfishes." turning to look at you, he gave you a lopsided grin. "don't have a good relationship with your dad?" you asked. that question painted the rest of the night, both of you drunkenly talking about your parents for hours, refusing to leave the inn.

the train stopped at the first station of your trip, thirty minutes have passed. you watched as the only other person in your wagon left and nobody else entered. "so it's just us two, huh?" you said, looking at sanemi with a slight twinkle in your eyes. he looked back, watching you blink seductively, and sighed, "what the fuck are you implying, (y/n)?". leaning back, he studied you, waiting for one of your annoying replies. "I'm just saying..." you started, voice barely above a whisper, trailing a vein on his muscular arm, "nobody else is here." you purred into his ear. quickly, you pulled away and turned your attention back to the scenery outside, "not like your would do it here" you added, waiting for him to snap. sighing, he shuffled closer to you, grabbing your waist, "you really think I won't fuck you on this train, bitch? I'd have you bouncing on my cock at the imperial palace, I don't give a shit." sanemi lifted you onto his lap, so you could feel his hardening cock pulsing beneath you, "bet you'd like that, whore, hm?" he pressed, you kept your lips shut, just slightly grinding against his dick with soft rolls of your hips. impatient, he grabbed your face, lowering you dangerously close to his lips, "I asked you a fucking question." you could feel the air of his words blowing against your mouth. "yes" you said, immediately pressing your lips against his. nibbling on his lower lip, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing him closer to you. slowly, he pressed his tongue through your lips, intertwining it with yours, as he moved his hands from your thighs to flip your skirt over, revealing your soaked underwear. "fuck" he rasped, you could feel his dick twitching through his pants.

as you busied yourself undoing his belt, sanemi peeked outside. fortunately, he couldn't see the next station, but decided to hurry anyway. "quick", he whispered hotly against your ear as you freed his fat, pulsing cock. you spit into your hand and began to jerk his girth, watching pre drip down, as he pushed your panties to the side, burying two of his fingers inside your wet pussy. instantly, he pressed his other hand over your mouth to muffle your moans and pulled his fingers, coated in your juices, out. "sit down, pretty girl." sanemi insisted and you wasted no time, navigating his cock to your pussy. feeling his head against your entrance, you sank down, biting one of his fingers to muffle your shout. although you're soaked, the stretch burned ; he filled you to the brim and you were sure he'd penetrate your cervix before your ass even met his balls. impatiently, sanemi pressed his hips up, to bury himself completely in the ecstacy that is your pussy. he wasted no time and started thrusting quickly, the noise echoed obscenely against the walls of the train, mixing with the rattling against rails. quickly, he found your clit, rubbing it in circles, while watching your tits bounce at his brutal pace. your juices dripped down his balls, onto the seat, while you drooled against his hand. as your pussy clenched and pulsed against his dick, your thighs started to tremble and your back arched deliciously, you felt like you were falling down, before an unearthly orgasm hit you. feeling the way your pussy spasmed, sanemi rasped curses under his breath and with a few, messy, thrusts, he spilled his warm, sticky cum deep inside you.

"tickets, please!" the conducter shouted as he entered your wagon. both of your hair was messy and you opened the window to get rid of the smell, although the wind was icy. you're so glad you packed double the amount of panties you usually would.

-

↠ⁿᵉˣᵗ ˢᵒⁿᵍ : giyuu x reader smut ↺ ʳᵉᵖᵉᵃᵗ

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

On Your Six

Warnings: dark elements, stalking, violence.

Another sidequest complete (...or maybe you want more of this one? Let me know your thoughts!)

You have a second shadow. You're not alone. While your pursuer has given themself away, you're in no rush to do the same.

You keep going, slinking from pillar to pillar, balancing your target with whoever seems to have made you one. You keep your back to the wall as you grip your pistol, one ear listening ahead of you, the other behind you. You dip back into a pool of darkness and shuffle your foot to make it sound like you're running, let the noise peter off as you wait

A figure smoothly turns the corner and you stand unseen in the alcove. Shit, you know that goddamn strut. Even when he's trying to be covert, he's a dead giveaway.

What the hell is Hansen doing here? This isn't his kind of job. Unless you're his assignment.

You watch him creep past. He slows as he listens to the silence, stopping completely. You raise the barrel of your gun towards him as you tiptoe out from behind the pillar. He hisses into a cackle, raising his hands.

“Take it easy, toots,” he faces you slowly, “we're not enemies here.”

“Aren't we?” You approach with your hand steadied against your forearm.

“I'm just watching your six. Like a nice guy does.”

“Hansen,” you walk to him until you have the barrel to his back, “what the hell are you doing here? I'm not splitting the fee and I have no problem wasting a bullet in your ass.”

“Oh, I love it when you talk dirty,” he gives a dramatic shiver, unfazed by the gun between his shoulder blades.

“This isn't an open bounty,” you snarl.

“Toots, if you're not gonna use that thing, put it away,” he turns to face you slowly, “at least, that's what I've always been told.”

You shake your head and scoff, lowering the gun halfway. You sneer at him in the darkness and huff, “why are you getting in my way? Again.”

“Again? What– are you talking about San Paolo? I'm flattered you remember–”

“I nearly lost an eye.”

“Really? You're looking good, toots–”

You close your eyes and exhale through your nose, “I don't have time for this.”

You sidestep him and continue down the pillared walkway. You keep along the wall and stop as you sense him following once more. You pull back and holster your gun, just as swiftly slipping free your knife. You spin to bring it just along Hansen’s throat.

“I'll tell you one last time,” you hiss.

“I'm helping–”

“I told you, you're not getting a cent.”

“Trust me, honey, the view is worth it–”

“You are–”

“Deranged. Devoted. A total bottom.”

You bite down another snipe as the stone pillar beside you cracks and powder puffs in the air. Fuck. You dip into the shadows as Hansen shoulders past and raises his gun. Two shots before he crams into the alcove next to you

“Really?” You sneer.

“Tight fit, babe, but always figured it would be,” he chortles as he squints into the darkness. “Think I got th–”

Another shot silences him. You wonder if he's hit but don't really care. You duck down and switch out your blade for your fun. You creep along, listening to the approach of those that pest has drawn in.

You weave in and out of shadows, zeroed in on the echoing footsteps. The first silhouette falls before your silenced shot, the second doesn't notice his comrades collapse until it's too late and he joins him on the stone. The third you don't spend the bullet and use the but of your gun against the back of his skull.

You hear a scuff and raise your gun. Hansen waves and pants as he appears once more.

“Got one,” he puffs proudly, “damn, look at that.” He marvels at the bodies heaped around your feet, “you work fast, baby.. I'm more the type to take it slow.”

“Ugh,” you scowl and turn away.

As you do, you hear Hansen barrel towards you. It's too late for you to get your aim. You dodge as best you can as the rifle levels across from you only to be bowled over from behind.

You hit the ground as a shot fires and Hansen grunts. He fires back and the man lands on the rifle with a rattling gasp.

Hansen hisses and drops to one knee, grasping his side as he wheezes. You sit up, check your gun, and stand. He should've stayed away.

You flinch as suddenly a loud thrum cuts the night air. Fuck. You look above as the helicopter rotor whirls loudly. You harumph and kick a body near your feet.

“Fuck.”

“Don't worry, baby, I can take you on a nice vacation, you don't need the bounty,” he sucks in air and stands, “I got you.”

You look at him and scoff. You sneer and bring your gun up, aiming at his ass as you fire. He yelps and falls back down, grasping his rear. You shake your head and mutter.

“Fucker.”

You spin and walk back the way you came. Dimwit better get the hint. Next time you'll aim higher.

“See ya soon, toots,” he calls after you in a strained grit, “probably in my dreams.”

[colourstreakgryffin]

Can I request gojo x child reader? Like fem reader and she's 16. Gojo's really overprotective of her and a bit clingy. And she suddenly starts dating megumi and he doesn't approve🙏🤗 (dad gojo)

No questions asked

Ommggg! I love this a lot! Dad! Gojo is on the same pillar as Dad! Douma

Father! Gojo Satoru

Satoru is a overprotective, loving and clingy father. He loves you more than he loves anything in this whole world, you’re his one and only love so he won’t let anything happen to you

So he can’t stand the idea of boys coming into the mix, they can hurt you and your heart. This is where the drama of you and Megumi’s secret crushes blooming into an relationship begun

Satoru never approves of it when you tell him about it. He has a close bond with Megumi himself and almost views the boy as his own child. He is the last one you should have picked, that doesn’t mean he would approve any boy

Satoru wants you to stay his cute little princess forever and he constantly babies you, even at your current teen age. His little Gojo, born with the vibrant multi-shaded blue eyes of Six Eyes, but can’t use them

Satoru is about ready to commit murder each and every time he catches you and Megumi on dates, from behind his back. His baby is growing up too fast for his liking and he is desperate to reverse it, he wants you to be a helpless waddling little 4-year-old again

Satoru isn’t against Megumi because he hates Megumi, he actually knows that the young Fushiguro is the right choice but he doesn’t want to lose you yet, his bubblegum-bubba. He remembers holding infant you in his arms like it was only yesterday

Satoru is 100% the type of parent to tell stories about baby/child you and show off your baby pictures to everybody who’ll listen. He is proud of how cute his daughter is and he doesn’t mind bragging:

“Faaaattthher” You whine annoyed, planting your head on the table as Satoru shuffled to sit at the table too, swiping a spare chair from nearby table without care. You felt so embarrassed as Megumi smiling nervously at you. “Good afternoon, angel” Satoru purred, smiling genuinely as his black shades hid the way his gorgeous galaxy-like blue eyes flared at Megumi. He actually didn’t mind the Fushiguro, in-fact, he was one of his most beloved students but that favouritism wasn’t enough to save Megumi from Satoru’s overprotective dad senses kicking in

Rather he be a good boy or not, Satoru wasn’t okay with his baby princess seeing anybody romantically behind his back, it actually hurt his feelings. You don’t trust him enough to tell him? Satoru shuffles forward, leaning onto his elbows as your head rose to lock gazes as your sky blue irises sparkled in sync of his becoming visible when the dark shades slide down the bridge of his nose

Could you and Satoru be anymore similar? Nanami called you a mini-version of him, with your snowy white hair and your matching cloudy blue eyes. You almost had no traits from your late mother, you had all the looks from your father that it made people wonder if Satoru is actually just both of your parents, that you had no mother and you just one day, popped into existence from Satoru’s cursed energy or some sorts

“So. What are you two doing?” He asks smoothly, tapping his thick fingers against the wood of the round polished table in a aimless beat as his eyes darted between your glittery pretty date dress and Megumi’s simple but sleek date suit, the way he held his hand over yours. He couldn’t believe that he didn’t notice you sneaking around behind his back sooner, going to eat and chat with one of his most prized pupils at some fancy restaurant

“We’re on a date, Sensei” Megumi bluntly responded, your head rose up just to look at him, you always found yourself admiring the looks at your boyfriend. Your cheeks flamed at the way his defined jaw moved and his smooth skin glowed whilst his sapphire blue eyes made your heart beat faster. Megumi didn’t see any reason to lie to your father and his teacher, even if he wanted to, in case it may save your butt from the older Gojo and his clinginess

You sighed, throwing your head in the direction of your father, who picked up the unused silver fork in front of you to pick out a forkful of the piping-hot spaghetti, he seemingly cared less for the steam flowing up as he stuffed the twirled pile of saucy noodles into his mouth whilst keeping his stern, powerful gaze on Megumi. He was here to crash this little date and talk to his daughter about what she has been doing without his permission or knowledge

Your father is such a immature brat for a nearly 40-year-old man with the title of the strongest sorcerer in the world. You huffed out in defeat as you picked up your handbag in a clean swipe, in which laid peacefully on the floor, besides your white heels, and strapped it over your chest as you snapped your fingers suddenly to draw back Satoru’s attention onto you. Apologising to Megumi, you stood up with both boys’ eyes following your every action

You have quite the talk to give to Satoru

[doctorbrown]

DOCTOBER '23 ⸺ 「 10 / 31 * NUCLEAR 」

July 16, 1945

When the countdown reaches fifteen, a hush as silent as death immediately falls over the crowd. Conversations grind to a halt mid-sentence and everyone's eyes drop, almost in-sync, to the ground. Emmett tenses on the towel he's laid out for himself, his muscles seized by equal parts fear and anticipation.

This has to work.

This can't work.

It's a dizzying thing to stand at such conflicting odds with one's own invention, to know that your hands have touched and constructed and breathed life into something that, if it works, could rob others of that same life in a heartbeat on a scale that had never been achieved before.

Should I breathe? Should I hold my breath?

What if six seconds is all they have left until the world ignites and burns itself to ash thanks to the hubris of man? He had thrown his lot in with the crowd that believed it wouldn't, but non-zero was still something.

Emmett feels like he ages a year for every second he's trapped in limbo, not knowing whether or not the past several years of hard work will have yielded the results they so desperately hoped for.

He believes it will, because he has to. Otherwise, what was this all for?

When the countdown reaches zero, the bomb is not the only thing that drops.

So, too, does Emmett’s stomach.

The light of an artificial sun paints the sky with a brilliance he has no words to describe and Emmett screws his eyes shut for a second, blinded. Bodies shuffle around him, his fellow scientists all let out a collective breath—they, too, must have held it—and Emmett comes back to himself, twisting and fumbling for his protective lens to get a proper look at the culmination of all this time and energy.

And when the shockwave finally hits, twenty seconds or a minute later, he's not sure, whipping Emmett's wild red mane of hair around until it becomes a secondary flame ignited by the blast, all he can see is Pandora’s Box being blown wide open for all eternity, releasing horrors that can never be sealed again.

The blast sounds like a beast roaring in his ears, but it pales in comparison to the pillar of flame climbing higher and higher into the air, glowing with a radiance that puts their sun to shame.

He’s never put much stock into stories of magic and fairytales. As a man of science, there was no place for such things; all science once was magic, unexplainable phenomena they had not the skill yet to understand. Everything had an explanation once studied and picked apart, but right now, his mind can only grasp at stories.

The rest of the morning passes in a blur. He must have spoken to people, because he’s been clapped on the back and thanked and lauded, but what he might have said eludes him. Most of the others around him are celebrating, and maybe he is, too, somewhere.

They did not destroy the world. With this, they can put an end to the war. Brothers and fathers and sons will come home, the fighting and bloodshed will cease, and humanity can move on.

Maybe they won’t have to use this weapon after all.

But what if we do?

With this successful test, even though the future of the device was still up in the air—will they or won't they?—it was clear that the world would never be the same. The tower where they'd hoisted it up had been vaporised. Nothing of it remained where, not an hour ago, it loomed in the distance, holding the weight of their hopes and dreams.

If it could do that to a structure that normally would be unshakeable, what would it do to the land? To humans? The data—the data said one thing, but numbers and figures did not prepare him for actually witnessing the detonation; it should stand to reason that it would be exactly the same in practise.

At some point between the rising of the real sun and the ride back to Los Alamos, Emmett has the vague recollection of being invited out for drinks; a celebration, they'd said, now that they've finally crested that daunting hurdle. He'd declined, wanting nothing more than to sit in his room to give his spinning thoughts the attention they deserved.

He had far too much to think about, and he was never too partial to alcohol in the first place.

When he can no longer suffer the suffocating feeling of the walls of his room closing in on him, Emmett steals out into the night, grateful for the cool desert air even in the summer.

A solitary figure leans against one of the buildings and Emmett would recognise that silhouette anywhere.

❝Emmett,❞ Oppenheimer says by way of greeting after taking a long drag of his cigarette, ❝I take it I don't have to guess at what brings you out here at this hour?❞

[rubysarchives]

The Awoken Clan: Wake Up

How long have the entombed dragons been sleeping? What is one to do when when you awake in a graveyard?

...........................................................

Point of View: Kavasir

Kavasir opened his eyes. It was dark. He took in a breath, and drew an alarming amount of dust into his nostrils. He sneezed, causing more dust to fly all over the place, and when he lifted his head, dust cascaded from his scales and his horns in thick sheets.

[How long have I slept?] he wondered, assuming he was in the hibernal den, and that his memory as to why would return once he’d woken fully. No. When he stood and shook the dust off his wings, the pillar of the main hall stood before him. Why would he have been asleep for so long in the middle of the lair?

The sound of shuffling wings and first-breaths interrupted Kavasir’s trail of thought. In the dim light from the crystals around the cave, he could make out the forms of a handful of other sleeping dragons, some of them just beginning to wake. Judging by their wheezing and the plumes of dust, they too had been asleep for far too long.

“Who’s awake?” The Imperial rasped.

“Where am I?…” The Gaoler answered. It was Moon.

“We are in the main hall. Help me wake our siblings, something is wrong.”

Moon begrudgingly complied as Kavasir walked out into the entrance hall, dust flying with every step.

The entrance hall was dark too, and the front gate was shut tightly. It would not open, as though it had been sealed by more than just the lock. Deeming it unwise to try and figure out the door in the dark, Kavasir instead busied himself with finding a lantern. He removed the dust from its glass shell, lit it, and fixed it to the end of his tail. Now that he could see, he looked closely at the trail of footsteps he’d left. Years worth of dust had piled up into a sheet, such that Kavasir could hardly see the painted stone underneath.

* * *

Six dragons sat beneath the pillar in the main hall, including the disgruntled Moon, who sat next to his mate, Sun.

“We’ve been sealed in, and this dust is all from our own scales.” Kavasir announced, as he returned from the entrance hall. “We aught to find the others and configure a way to-”

“Sir,” Moon cut him off, “We have another problem that might need attending first.”

“What is it, Moon?” the Imperial asked patiently.

“That’s it? My name’s Moon?” His eyes widened a little.

“… Yes?” Kavasir furrowed his brow. What was he talking about?

“That’s the problem. I’d had no idea my name was Moon until you said so just now. … Moon.”

“None of us remember our names,” said one of the other two Imperials in the room, “Only that we’re familiar with each other somehow.

“Your name is Vidar.” Kavasir began, then pointed to the next dragon, “You’re Faeren. Your name is Sun. And you two are Mask and Rhys.”

“What’s your name, then?” Faeren asked.

“And what were our duties before….” Moon looked at the ground for some kind of clue, not sure before what exactly, but surely before something.

“My name is Kavasir, and,” he said, “I think for right now, it’s more important to focus on our duties now, and the task at hand. Firstly, there are only seven of us here, when the clan is over 80 strong. We must find and wake them. Secondly, there is the matter of the front gate. It is sealed shut.”

“Now it sounds like you’re trying to hide something. Why won’t you tell us? How come you remember but we don’t?” Sun growled.

“That’s a heavy assumption to make,” Mask said, flicking her tail. “We’re all in this together. Look, His mane is full of dust too, he was asleep the same as we were.”

Kavasir gave a weary expression, despite having just woken up from a very long nap. “I have nothing to hide from you, but forgive me if I don’t deem anything other than our immediate survival as particularly important at the moment. If it pleases you to know, Sun and Moon, you were both guards tasked with the security of the lair.”

Moon seemed proud of this, and Sun relaxed slightly.

“As for your duties now, I’d like you two to search the nursery. The teachers Moriel and Ayren are there, along with six hatchlings, none old enough to be named. It is down the tunnel to the left.” Kavasir pointed.

Moon nodded, glad to have something to do, and marched away with Sun following.

“The rest of you, Vidar and Faeren, please begin looking for a way to open the front gate. Mask and Rhys, come with me. There are many others we must wake.”

Each obeyed as they were instructed, going their separate ways into the dark lair…

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[caw-rky]

Dungeons and ponies

(Disclaimer : There is a lot of reading here but there is also drawings, the drawings are lower in the post so don't hesitate to jump straight to it to avoid the blabbering) Since uni is kicking my behind (well, that and a good old bad cold), I put a hiatus on Shuffled (and have been for a while already). But that's not the subject of this post ! So, Dungeons and Dragons ! The most known system of roleplay than most fan of the genre have played at least once, right ? Not me. I have only played homemade systems since before I could read. But I am a big fan of DnD redesigns and love memes so, what did I do after watching some redesigns on youtube? Well, of course, I drew the pillars ! And since I can't do anything simply, I linked them all to two classes and made a few indications for stats and an idea for a small system to represent the elements. So a few explainations then drawings ! Each pillars are linked to 2 classes (I also have ideas for the mane 6 (7?) but I haven't drawn them yet, dunno if I will) depending of their stories (in the serie and in the comics) and what I felt like doing. Each pillars are linked to a "virtue", virtues are pretty much the equivalent of the elements but there is seven of them and are made to be "usable" for both generation. The concept of virtue is : each virtue corresponds to an ability (for example : faith would rise the critical sucess rate for difficult actions). A virtue being in a party will act on all members of it, having multiple time a virtue will reinforce its effect (two faith would lower the failure rate necessary for an action to be thought as difficult for example) and different virtues would stack on the party (if you have a faith and a diligence, both effects will act on the whole party). If you have six or more of the different virtue, once by session you could use the friendship rainbow lazer. For the stats, since I'm too lazy to try and figure out what level everypony would have, searching how exp works and all, instead there are 5 level existing : low-, low, medium, high, high+. low- is you are pretty much unable to do anything using this stat. Low is lower than the average adult pony. Medium is average. High is higher than average. High+ is "hello I'm pretty much a genius in this field". The pillars have a mean to medium where the mane 6 (and Stygian) would have a mean at low. Now drawings !

Starswirl is a wizard (pretty obvious why) and a bloodhunter ! To make a very gross summary a bloodhunter is someone who used pretty... unsavory rituals to achieve very powerful blood-related magic (generally in the goal of beating up bad guys). In this, I consider than Starswirl became one to reach stronger magics to fight against the monsters who roam during their times (that far before even meeting the alicorn sisters). I also imagine him now half regretting his choice but also being of the mind of "better me than someone else". His virtue is curiosity. (Also a thing I thought while thinking about it (I will try to keep it short) : isn't it funny than he thought than Stygian was trying to steal the power of the pillars but his last spell, when corrected, allows the caster to reach alicornhood by using the power of 5 other individuals? Imagine the twist it would have been if Starswirl had originally made the spell to become an alicorn (and so immortal) and planned to put the rest of the pillars in limbo until finding a way to make them immortal too to "protect equestria forever". Like, Stygian would have been silent and shocked cause he was in fact sent by Starswirl to make preparatory diagnostics check-up but was thrown under the bus when some of the pillars realized their missing stuff. (Funnily enough, seeing how high in society Starswirl was, even if he planned to keep Stygian, it would have been easy for him to get guards to capture him back so it would barely be annoying for him to have to let Stygian run off). Like during part of the finale, everyone thinks the problem is Stygian taking the artifacts for one thing or another and then you learn than Stygian thought he was allowed since Starswirl asked him to do it and accepted the shadows due to feeling betrayed (possibly even accepting them to escape Starswirl). And I'm beginning to spiral in possibilities soooo next character ! (also, link of the wizard reference : https://www.lolailo.co.uk/ravenloft-chapter-fourty-four-the-journey-back-to-an-illusion/ )

Rockhoof is a paladin (of the Mighty Helm) and a barbarian ! And his dexterity is low due to a certain episode and charisma has ended up low cause it was the only thing I could lower when I realized his mean was high. His virtue is diligence ! And ref of the viking palading : https://www.deviantart.com/rathnos/art/Ziggeroy-The-Viking-Paladin-or-Vikadin-563177921 .

Mistmane is a sorcerer (cause her magic is too important for her to not have a magic related class and I thought than wizard was better for Starswirl) and a druid (before thinking for this, I hadn't fully realized how much she is linked to plants). Her virtue is charity ! And old ponies are hard to draw x'DD

Somnambula is a bard and a monk ! And I tried two color palets cause I wondered how she would look with Ankha's color palet. Her virtue is Faith !

Meadowbrook is an artificer (mainly for the potion making) and ranger (partially cause Mistmane already had the bard part and also because, Meadowbrook doesn't really have the link with animals and plants I generally imagine druids having? If that makes sense?). Her virtue is Mercy !

Flash Magnus is a fighter (I originally thought to make him a paladin before thinking than Paladin of The Mighty Helm sounded too good to pass) and a rogue (originally cause I thought it funny since his "elemental descendant" is the element of loyalty) ! His virtue is Bravery (yes, I know, imagination 10/10)

Stygian is a Cleric (just thought it would be cool for him to have become it to help the pillars) and a Warlock (pretty obvious that one). Yes I imagine him having two patrons pretty much opposite. Just cause I think it would make for very funny interactions with Stygian and both patrons. His virtue is caution. I tried to make the post veeeeeeery quick and short so plz don't hesitate to send ask if interested in this xDD May do the mane 6 and/or young 6 one day. Or not. Idk yet? Will take a while either way so have a nice daaaay !

[artsy0wl]

Every Offense, Sir, but I Never Liked You Either. Now Especially. Chapter 1

Continuing on from the Champion Night Terror fic of mine, this planned six chapter fic follows Raihan and Leon after that fic.

Summary: After a lovely vacation with Leon, Raihan decides to pay a certain someone a visit. WITHOUT Leon. The man before him, smug yet disappointed, tries to tear Raihan down. Why? To ’prove’ that Raihan is worthless and because he believes Raihan does not deserve Leon. Rather, Leon is owned by the man before Raihan.

When Leon finds out, he’s frightened by the fact Rose would try hurting Raihan. Afraid that his words will drive Raihan away. And when Leon gathers the courage to face Rose, how will things end?

Link for AO3 page at the end

Purple hair danced as fingers twirled through it as soft breathes slowly raised. Closed eyes hide beneath messy bangs as Leon’s frame sprawled over the bed. His face burrowed into Raihan’s shirt as an arm laid over him. Outside of the window, Murkrow were flying in the sky, some coming from the direction of Valor Lakefront.

The vacation was just what they needed. Sinnoh was a lovely region. Better than Raihan initially thought. The lakefronts were gorgeous, scenic and full of like. And Raihan was certain they saw one of the legendary Lake Guardians. Azelf, if he recalled correctly.

The battles at the hotel were a fun break from Gym battles. They even challenge a few gym leaders unofficially for fun. It also showed how the Sinnoh’s leaders differed from Galar’s. Everyone seemed to have fun, even if they were beaten, and the smile on Leon’s face was worth it.

Leon introduced Raihan to Cynthia. Who, despite appearing regal and much more intimidating than Leon, was actually really nice and down to earth. She didn’t have a smug ego, despite her title as champion, and she seemed to enjoy spending time with them. And when they visited the ruins in Celetic Town, Cynthia kind of reminded Raihan of Sonia with how well versed and intrigued she was with Sinnoh’s legends. She even offered to show them the Spear Pillars, where Palkia and Diaga frequented. And though they would not get to see the famed legends of time and space, it was an engrossing visit.

All in all, it was an eventful vacation. Seeing Leon smile after the trauma he had gone through and revealed was all that Raihan could ask for. Raihan was a bit sad that it was coming to a close in the morning. Maybe, he could convince Leon to coming back for another vacation in the near future.

Yet, despite the relaxed peace and finally getting a much needed break for the both of them, Raihan couldn’t sleep. As he continued to lightly run his hand through Leon’s hair, blue eyes were gazing at the ceiling. His mind was restless and wandered back to what occurred before they left. The night terrors and the trauma Leon had been holding onto.

Leon was starting to get help. He got to a consultation before they left, which confirmed that Leon has depression and most likely has PTSD because of the Eternatus battle and how things went down with Rose. Though they wanted to do a few more tests to be certain.

Raihan was glad the road to recovery started, completely understanding, and mentally prepared for, the bumps they would hit along the way. Smooth progress wasn’t going to be a guarantee and he knew that. However, Raihan felt as though he wasn’t doing enough. That he needed to do something more.

Rose needed to face justice. For more than just reigniting the Darkest Day. Or at the very least, closure. Questions needed to be answered and Leon needed to know if Rose regretted any of it.

Of course, Raihan wasn’t going to put Leon through anything this soon. He wasn’t ready. Raihan didn’t even want Leon to visit Rose in jail. However, Rose wasn’t off the hook either.

A squeak escaped Leon as he shuffled slightly. His breathing picked up as amber eyes slowly creaked open. Rubbing his eyes, Leon pushed himself up a little. Yawning, he looked at Raihan, tired, but concerned.

“What are you doing up?” Leon asked.

“I’m not tired.” Raihan sighed, brushing a few strands of bangs aside.

Leon tried to roll off of Raihan. “Sorry.”

An arm wrapped around Leon’s waist, keeping him where he was. “Don’t be. You need sleep and I’m comfortable.”

Leon nodded, shuffling slightly. He wrapped his arms around Raihan. Burying his face in Raihan’s shoulder, Leon fell asleep.

“Rest easy, Leon.”

~

Raihan was the first one up. Having already done most of the needed packing, outside of needing to pack the pajamas Leon was currently wearing, he was brewing coffee for the two of them. He had managed to fall asleep for about an hour or two, but got up because he was feeling restless.

Their flight wasn’t for a few hours, so he wasn’t in a rush. Checking his phone, he had a notification. It had a date and time on it that needed filling. He sent a response, hearing movement from the other room.

Leon, now dressed, emerged from the bedroom. He packed his pajamas in his suitcase before joining Raihan at the table. Yawning, he smiled at Raihan.

“Sleep well?” Raihan inquired.

Leon nodded. “Mhm. Did you get any?”

“For a couple hours, yeah.”

“Good.” Leon took a sip of coffee. “I was worried.”

Smiling, Raihan held his hand. “Don’t worry too much. I can’t have you going grey this young.”

Leon chuckled. “But I’d look so cute grey. Like a little old man.”

Raihan snorted. “If you’re little, I must be tiny.”

They spend the next hour getting breakfast and heading to the airport. Their flight was one of the first and they got back to Galar at a reasonable time.

It only took a few hours to get to Galar, and though they loved being in Sinnoh, being home felt nice. For the rest of the day unpacking and relaxing. With no obligations, there was nothing to stress over. No need to rush.

Two Days Later

“I shouldn’t be gone long.” Raihan stated. “You sure you’ll be okay?”

“Of course.” Leon confirmed. “Ma’s going to be stopping by and Sonia wanted to do a routine check up on Charizard. They’ll keep me busy while you’re gone.”

“Good.” Raihan kissed Leon’s forehead. “Don’t do anything too crazy.”

~

Wyndon Penitentiary. Raihan didn’t want to be here, but he had to. For one reason and one reason only.

Going through the proper clearances, he was brought to a room where visitations were held. He took a seat as one of the guards went to get who he was visiting. Raihan was a but anxious about this visit.

He didn’t tell Leon he was here or who he was visiting. Just that he was looking to meet with someone. Lying to Leon like that hurt. But, at the same time, Raihan was doing this on behalf of Leon in an attempt to help him without stunting his progress this soon. Raihan would tell Leon about this, when he was in a good mindset. That much, Raihan was sure of.

“Of all the people to visit me, you are at the bottom of my list.” Rose stated, as he was ushered to the table by two guards and sat down. “Tell me, where’s Leon? I do miss him.”

[r-f-m-writes]

A Lark in a Hollow; early draft sneak peak.

The airport was cold, crowded, and confusing to Lark as she shuffled beside Christopher, the fraying straps of her backpack clutched in a white knuckled grip like they were lifelines. There was a rustle and movement at her right side.

Christopher fleece lined jacket was heavy and warm when he laid it over her tremoring shoulders, his left hand gently nudging her side.

“Want me to carry that?”

Lark’s backpack held everything she owned. The straps were making her shoulders ache.

It was shrugged off and passed to Christopher in a moment.

“Thank you.”

At hearing her speak for the second time, she saw his eyebrows rise a fraction, eyes widening, but he made no comment and swung the bag over one shoulder.

Lark had remembered him.

She could have been six or ten, the memories were so blurry – endless waves of tossing onto her back and looking at the white net canopy hung above her, or rolling on her side, staring through bleary eyes at the blinking curtain of golden fairy lights strung between the bars of her bed’s frame.

She had recognized him the second she stepped into Miss Poppy’s office at the group home, his wide frame crowded into a green faux-leather chair in front of the wooden desk. The tan work boots he wore were nearly identical to the ones that had stepped into her view off the edge of her bed years before.

She recalled her mother coming to her constantly, feeding her thin soups, water, some sort of medicine that tasted sickly sweet. Perhaps she remembered him because he was a break in the routine, an abrupt presence that shook a bit of the fever out of her.

 “- you’re the only person who knows how this works. I can’t take her to a doctor, they have to report these cases. I’m scared they’ll take her, Chris.”

The airplane tilted to the right. Lark gripped both armrests tightly. Christopher chuckled.

“Don’t worry. ‘s supposed to do that.”

Miss Poppy’s smile was tired and kind as she gestured from Lark to the man and began to explain Lark’s options. Stay at Miss Poppy’s Home for Girls until she aged out of the system in another month and was forced to leave alone– or fly with a strange man she had only one memory of to a town in the mountains where she could stay for as long as she wanted with every expense paid, safety promised.

The floor creaked under unfamiliar footsteps.

The boots stepped into her view in the same moment that rough skin with a gentle touch met her forehead. His hand felt twice as big as her father’s.

“Did she show any symptoms before? Aggression? Tremors?”

Her mother crossed arms over her chest. Lark saw her hair, golden and soft even though it was unbrushed with its ends splitting.

“She had tremors two days before the fever started. Stopped talking, too.”

~~~

Lark was woken by bars of golden light spilling in pillars along the white painted ceiling of a room she was starting to feel comfortable in. Outside there was the far away sound of rushing water and birds singing, the flutter and rustle of their wings chased away the fog of sleep lingering over Lark, making her sit up in a flash, fists gripping soft white sheets as she remembered.

Rough forest floor flying under bear feet, freezing air rolling over naked skin, every sound and smell sharp and terrifying, animals running in disoriented droves as they were startled awake by the thing that crashed through their home.

She had never been in a forest before, moon bright silver in the black sky, trees expanding before and behind her, endless green in the leaves of trees and moss growing thick on their trunks. The sudden freedom had made her other half wild, manic, sent it racing towards something Lark didn’t understand.

When she was small, she thought the murky memories were bad dreams, nightmares stitched together using places from her waking life – but they were real, and as Lark slid on sock clad feet around the wooden banister at the top of the stairs, she prayed there would be nothing for her to find downstairs.

Panting, pacing, nails turned to claws dragging white lines over thin skin before hooking down into the slick smarmy red of flesh and bone that made her nostrils flare and mouth flush with saliva.

Blood didn’t taste like copper when she was that way. It was warm and full and sweet on her tongue unlike anything else she had ever eaten. The memory made her hungry and sick all at once as she reached the landing, looking for him, frantic, frightened.

The soft click and clatter of dishes being stacked in the kitchen made Lark heave, staggering around the corner to the doorway where she watched the tall figure of Christopher rinsing a bowl in the stainless-steel sink, hair mussed from sleep, onion and ham omelets cooking on the stove.

Lark was only able to observe him unnoticed for a handful of seconds before he turned around, draping a tea towel over his shoulder and smiling at her wide enough for the corners of his eyes to crinkle.

“Morning. Omelets ok for breakfast? Don’t have much in the house, gotta pick some things up at the markets.”

Lark nodded, padding through the kitchen, eyes flitting from place to place as Christopher spoke, searching for some outward evidence of what she must have done the night before.

She found nothing.

[legiomiam]

FIND THE WORD

Tagged by @awritingcaitlin (x2) my words are: shrug, see, short, sure, sign and plan, blink, swore (I surprisingly don’t have), small, run

Here enjoy another project From Ashes And Dust

I tag: @juls-writes, @mr-writes, @carrotblr, @botanistweak

And your words are: needle, thread, grin, and toast

☙❦❧

SHRUG

“Get a translator,” Captain Jonah was calling towards the open door, people scrambling to find someone who could understand what the young woman was saying.

“I know a little that I can help you with.” Officer Lumburg let himself into the interrogation room and sat next to Jade, briefly introducing himself in that same language she had spoken.

“Officer Lumburg will help by translating for me. We caught you robbing a medical lab. We also have you on camera, so don’t deny it.” She waits for the translation to be done and the young woman sighs and then shrugs.

Mouth moving as she mumbles some more russian.

“She says that she passed out from lack of food. She has food in her bag you took.”

“You can eat once we are done here.” Jade holds up a paper, “we also have reason to believe that you may be involved in the murder of a local man.” She waited and Leon held his breath watching, if the girl gave any indication to the statement — instead she sat back, frowning. More words.

“She won’t answer until she eats.”

☙❦❧

SEE

“Okay, Wyck, thank you for the update.”  Her footsteps didn’t falter at all, and she could see Hesting Tower, the tall pillar cut through the center of the city.  “Here I go.” All or nothing, bitch.

She kneeled on the ledge there, one shin parallel to the roof of the brick building she was perched on. Soon enough little rows of lights made their way across the street below her, she could make out the uniformed bodies of the patrol officers.  Usually they were very easy to avoid if you knew which direction they were heading. Normally they weren’t seven minutes ahead of schedule.

The schedule change was part of the new security in place within the city limits thanks to terrorists trying to contaminate the blood transfusion center’s supply with an undetectable toxin a few years back, it seemed a repeat was hinted at happening once more. While it kept the citizens believing that they were safe from harm and that they could trust the medical empire that Doctor Derrickson Ehvtz had created just forty years ago.

Yes, good ol’ Doctor Ehvtz. His face was plastered on a billboard when you entered forty-five, treated like a god. It was disgusting.

☙❦❧

SHORT

The smooth panel of wall at the bottom shifted under her touch and she pried at it with shaking fingers. Were the nightmares a warning about this? Pulling out a case wrapped in a dirty cloth she opened it to grab the syringe gun, metal freezing to her skin. However, the relief at having the weight in her grasp was short lived, the little shots of what she needed were not in there. A curse escaped her lips, too loud for her ears, as she hunted for them in the case, hoping one rolled out of its place and was lying on the edge.

No such luck.

Alexia’s fingers brushed a small round pill as long as the length of the tip of her pinkie finger to the middle knuckle. None of the vials for the gun were there, but a suppressant was, and she was thankful, that little yellow pill would do the trick. It would prolong the destruction in her body like the injection, but she’d have to take the capsules weekly instead of a shot every six months.

☙❦❧

SURE

The extra lacings and fastens made sure they stayed on, once when she was very young a shoe had fallen off, thankfully into a dumpster so she wasn’t caught. It had been a mortifying experience as she had to shuffle along the street wet from the storm that had suddenly come on.

She locked a harness around her, one that she got through the underground because it was made from designs from weaponry used to fight people like her. The buckles and clasps clicked as they locked and straps were pulled to tighten it.

Alexia hit that same panel again and the shelf slid in with a soft hum and a purple light lit up inside the drawer underneath as it slid out, a glowing keypad illuminating the room, begging for the passcode to release the glass over the weapons stored there.

“Hello, ma’am.” The familiar voice of her A.I came out of the wall. “Passcode please.”

☙❦❧

SIGN

A breeze blew a few strands of curly hair around her face as she backed up. “Wyck, trajectory from this angle?”

Her robotic partner in crime came to life with a series of beepings, “landing is showing a chance for survival of eighty-nine percent.”

“Eighty-nine?” More strands of red hair curled and twisted in the wind, “what did they do, add spikes to the floor? A button that if you step on it little lasers will slice you into cubes? A pit of man eating rats opens up and you fall into it?”

“Are you done?” A beep, “the glass doors to the balcony are closed. While calculating they were open yesterday, today they are not. Therefore, Lex, if you launch yourself at this angle there is an eleven percent chance that you will not be able to safely grab the railing above the door and swing in undetected. I also didn’t want you to smack into the glass door and get hurt, that would be embarrassing for both of us.”

“Smartass.” She huffed rolling her neck to pop the cervical joints of her spine.

“Good luck to you too, signing off.”

☙❦❧

PLAN

Alexia stuffed another bar of sweet breaded meat into her mouth, chewing slowly. It had gone off just like she planned. Getting the files wasn’t the hard part, none of it was hard actually, too easy for such an amount of money.

Well, compared to what the man was going to give her.

See, his wife had found his messages — and after a tear filled conversation at a bar overheard by a once upon a time customer — the woman had her number and called her making a request for the positive tests and files, while it didn’t necessarily didn’t seem to make a difference at first the files would keep a judge from deciding that the wife, the obvious breadwinner, would pay him.

While Alexia had committed to the job assigned to her, not liking to betray them without a good reason and lose out on money. She couldn’t refuse to help the woman. Plus the pay was better by triple.

After she had tucked the printed papers into a folder that she, then placed into a hidden slit on the inside of her jacket, she continued to search the records. Alexia didn’t need anything; she just was curious.

☙❦❧

BLINK

“Sorry,” her silvery voice rang out in the space between them and Leon’s head turned to follow her down the steps, his partner looked her over once before turning to continue up the stairs that he stood in the middle of.

“Gwerder?”  He shakes his head as if to clear it from a fog, lids blinking to clear his vision.  “Job?”

Right, no time. He shakes his head, “Yeah. Just she looked familiar.” Leon couldn’t place how she seemed so familiar but he bit his tongue and headed out onto the bridge, the breeze seemed stronger the higher up they were.

“No cameras pointing as to where he would have had to jump from, no way to tell if it was a jump or if he was pushed. But the cameras at both entrances should have caught something.

His phone rang.

“Gwerder here.” Leon frowned, leaning over the side to peer down at the monument, a crowd forming to look at the carnage from above. He points and his partner gets the hint.

☙❦❧

SMALL

All it read was scheduled infusion at ten-fifty.

She had time and walked back to where the vials were to take one— stuffing it into her jacket pocket opposite the file. “Wyck.”

Her A.I. beeped to life, “yes ma’am?”

“Record,” with a duck down so the sensor on her ear piece could see the storage units, full of embryos. No later did her mouth open, did the machine whirr and she held still as her ear piece beeped. She watched one of the tiny vials appeared in the center of the tube and a needle pushed through the top, with a click the liquid in the vial disappeared and her eyes followed the red liquid against the fluorescent lighting in the core. A smaller thinner needle pierced the amniotic sack the embryo was encased in and pumped the fluid to mix with the amniotic fluid.

As soon as it started the needle was gone and the process started over until one entire row was filled. She noted that there were other embryos surrounded in fluid varying shades of red.

☙❦❧

RUN

With the sweat cooling on her skin, she kicked off the simple quilt on her bed and rolled to sit on the edge of the mattress. Her feet pressed flat — a mattress on the hardwood floor was all it was — and walked to the bathroom feeling around in the dark. For fear of what she, of what her face, would look like in the mirror she kept the light off too. The thought of her sweat soaked curls hanging limp and her bloodshot eyes didn’t entice her and wouldn’t be a great start to her day. Her heart was hammering behind her ribs as she lifted her hands to the faucet knobs to twist the cold on, watching the faint outline of the water run out of the spicket into the basin. With her breath echoing in the space as that feeling came back she cupped shaking hands under the water, letting it and splashed it on her face, hoping the real feeling of cold water would let her body realize that what she had dreamt was just that— a dream.

The cold water dripped from the tip of her nose, it ran in little trickles down her jaw and shin. In an impulsive decision she decided to stick her entire head under the water. It plastered her hair to her neck and face, and ran up her nose. She opened her mouth to breathe occasionally spitting out the water that trickled in. The darkness behind her eyelids giving way to her nightmare, the tightening of her chest becoming unbearable. The images replayed themselves on repeat even after she had opened her eyes. It felt as if she was slowly sinking into the floor, a floor that ceased to be there.

[juliaharts]

@lavosse tagged me in the post the first 10 songs on your shuffle thing and I love to brag about my music taste. pulling from my mega playlist where I put all my Spotify wrapped playlists going back five or six years

1. scroll patrol - rinse & repeat

2. pillars - sunny day real estate

3. my little problem (violet door) - precious child

4. cents cents money money - blowout

5. headache of the year - shlohmo

6. nobody - mitski

7. lipslap - kero kero benito

8. fever dreams - Emma Ruth Rundle

9. hot faced - Margaux

10. planetarium - Slothrust

Originally you’re supposed to tag 10 people but that’s too many. @kingcrookback @driluth you’re up

[bike42]

Monday September 2, 2024

We slept in, then went down for a late leisurely breakfast. After breakfast, we booked our train for tomorrow, then took a walk down to the river, and along the river for a 5 mile loop. Good to stretch the legs a bit after two days of doing the tourist shuffle.

Back to the room, I did a yoga session while Jeff napped, then we showered and headed out to meet the Food Tour we’d booked for this afternoon.

We met Leslie and the 12 of us headed out to six different locations. We were mostly Americans, with one couple from Iceland (there was another couple from Waunakee!!).

Leslie was a terrific guide, originally from Chile, she studied language in college and learned Brazilian Portuguese, and really struggled with Portugal Portuguese when she moved here three years ago. Written Portuguese is a lot like Spanish, but the pronunciation is very different I guess!! We noticed some issues with “Google translate” as that is also Brazilian Portuguese!!

Leslie told us there are 3 pillars of Portuguese gastronomy:

*Roman: wine and Mediterranean diet

*Moors: fruit, almonds, rice

*Age of Discovery: flavors from all over the world

We made six stops on our tour and had more food and drink than we could handle, but it was a great experience and a lot of fun. Each time we sat with a different couple so we enjoyed getting to know each other as well.

#1 Manteigaria Silva

Marmalada (Romeo and Juliet): Quine (fruit), cheese and bread. Port wine, fortified (added brandy which stops fermentation and keeps it sweet).

#2 Solar da Madalena

Pork Sandwich and Beer

Pork is marinated with white wine and bay leaves, served with mustard and peri peri (hot sauce we had last night for the first time).

#3 Taberna da Baixa

Red wine, Cheeses, Pumpkin jam and Chorizo brought to the table flambé

#4 Rei do Bacalhau

The waiter plopped a large carafe of

Portuguese “water” (white wine) down on each table of 4!

Yummy Seafood with rice

#5 Ginjinha

Cherries fermented in brandy - a drink brought to Lisbon from a former monk. They say it’s “medicinal” and it did taste a bit like cough syrup! Reminded me of the Cherry Bounce my dad used to make

#6 Espacio Alentjo

“Green” white wine from the north coast of Portugal - grapes picked early so they don’t become too salty

Cod cake - like a crab cake, without much actual cod.

Our tour finished about 6pm - early by Portugal standards, but we were full and quite buzzed! We walked back up the hill and found a gelato shop a few blocks past our hotel. The streets were bustling, and it was an enjoyable evening.

Back to our room to finalize what’s going in our packs versus what’s staying in the suitcase at the hotel. I’ll be offering snacks, as my snack bag seems to weigh more than my small bag of clothes! We have a scale in our room so we can do a pack weight before we head out tomorrow!

[highnoteblog]

Boy Pablo Takes You to Prom with “Roy Pablo”

By Alfonso Navarro

Before the world tours and highly-anticipated albums, Boy Pablo once earned themselves the status of Indie Pop princes on the internet with the debut release of their innovative 2017 Extended Play (EP), “Roy Pablo.”

Born out of a group of friends in 2015, this project arguably established the band as Norway’s biggest pop export to the world.

Through the six-track EP, it can be argued that the band has innovated the Indie Pop genre, as no other artist has created a sound so innovative, yet nostalgic. Many would say that Mac Demarco’s wavy sound-heavy projects from 2012 to 2015 have laid the groundwork for the genre, yet it appears that Boy Pablo has elevated it to greater heights.

Band headliner Nicolas Muñoz and his friends open the shortened album with “Yeah,” a song that strongly sets the tone for what the listener should expect. The track’s intro feels like a fresh, strong breeze of air, as it forces you to take a step back and relax as you reminisce about a teenage love that you’ve once had. The strong opening is consistently carried over by the next track.

“Everytime,” the EP’s most popular song, is argued to be an integral pillar of the Indie Pop scene, as it serves as an introductory track to anyone who wishes to delve into the genre. The song is so simple, yet provides an orgasmic combination of both solo and rhythm guitars. It’s as if both instruments have created a wonderful art piece to the ears. The song also serves as the primary source of the album’s theme, as its lyrics hint at an innocent teenage puppy love that is relatable to the listener. “She doesn't know who he is. No, she doesn't know what he's up to (oh),” the band strongly proclaims.

The blood-rushed experience of a first love continues, as the band invites you to shuffle your feet with “Dance, Baby!” The track brags itself as one of the more upbeat and faster songs of the EP, as its body-twirling sound takes listeners to a higher level of ecstasy. The rhythm makes anyone feel like they are in prom again.

Entering the latter stages of the EP, “imreallytiredthisdaysucks” and “ur phone” serve as filler songs to help the listener take a break from the first three tracks. Both tracks are more mellow and simple, as the lyrics and chord progressions ease up a little bit. They feel like simple poems combined with easy-to-follow melodies.

Upon analyzing the dynamics and structures of the first five songs, one may notice a pattern that is up for interpretation. Yeah is filled with euphoria and fantasy, but everytime levels you down to bitterness. Dance, Baby! brings you out of your seat, yet imreallytiredthisdaysucks and ur phone eases you. This rollercoaster-type energy may reflect the awkwardness and mixed signals one may get as a teenager in love. Yet, the songs’ melodies reflect the dominant presence of teenage optimism.

Arguably the most important reason for this project’s success is seen in their strong finish, as the band catches listeners with one final twist.

All that puppy love and happiness is thrown out the gutter as Boy Pablo leads the listener out the door with “Ready/Problems.” Despite remaining loyal to the synth-wave innocent sounds of the band, the song symbolizes the emotions that come with rejection. It reminds the listener that love is something that is not always about sunshine, but also about rainy days. Its main lyric, “‘Right place, wrong time,’ is what she said to me,” ultimately realizes to the listener that a first love will most likely never last. It’s an emotional song that makes you beg for more.

Roy Pablo is a project that can be best described as an angsty teenager who is exploring the world of love, while also dying to experience it. Hence, it is an album that is easily relatable and lovable. From its charming, exhilarating sounds to its down-to-earth lyrics, the EP is an amazing example of what the Indie Pop genre has to offer for new listeners.

The work is by no means perfect, as it lacks a certain kind of depth which is usually restricted when it comes to EP releases. Boy Pablo may have provided their listeners with a more diverse vision through their 2018 album entitled “Soy Pablo,” but its predecessor is argued to be more successful.

Such success can be attributed to the gigantic heart of the project. It is a musical work that does not expect your praise, but humbly asks you to feel and relate to its themes. Many other artists such as Clairo and Cuco share the same “bedroom soft-pop” sound, but the Norwegian band takes its place as the rightful pillar of the genre.

Although the group has created much longer works that brag about unique themes, such as “Wachito Rico” (2020), this debut project remains at the top of Boy Pablo’s discography. Its replayability is second to none, as its lightheartedness and simplicity subtly invite listeners to loop the album for hours.

[cryopathiic-a]

[ wipe ] sender wipes away receiver's tears + [ wounded ] sender patches up receiver's wounds, both reverse. //continuation of our thread set the next day?

best meme || accepting ALWAYS!!

He still can't believe she'd thought he wouldn't know how to patch up a broken rib.

Not that he did, he just found the notion offensive. Because she knew he was a charitable guy that must have seen many sick people brought to his doorstep. Of course, the healing techniques had been left off of the table. That was something not even the Demon King himself had been privy to. A lot of the things Dōma discovered about his unique blood art, he preferred to keep to himself.

But, as the recent happenings revealed, perhaps he could learn something more from her.

He tugged on the compression wrap a bit harshly, when sealing it.

He's propped her up on the couch to make sure he'd leave some breathing room so the mild cough he's left behind won't progress to a nasty pneumonia. It's important to keep breathing, big and steady, and that was the first thing he warned her about; or the rime would settle and suck on her lungs from within. Which, by all means, he did, for a while there. And she would have felt the sting.

❝ That was a really impressive form. Did you name it? I thought you'd be the type to, like, announce them as you perform them or something. ❞ He knows some pillars do that to concentrate their energy or whatever. But it's a lie, in that he never thought that. His tongue briefly sticks out as he tries to angle it properly, according to Atreus' directions. The bandage clicks to place and he taps on it lightly, with the same effortlessness he'd flicked his wrist to shatter that bone in the first place.

But it's much easier to destroy something than put it back together, isn't it.

The passive aggressive smirk drops from his face when he looks up. There's mist in the dark ocean waters. Glimmering silver that threatens to stain her bruised cheek — one of the few spots where the cold bit into her skin. He looks at her, with those big colorful eyes, and he thinks that it would be so easy to lift his hand and return the color to her cheeks.

His hand falls to her thigh. First to cup the taut muscle, then to rub a circle on it. The other one reaches for that stray tear, swiping it off with his thumb.

❝ Oi, oi, none of that now. Because if you start crying, I'll start crying and that's going to make a mess, and I just put on a serum, so— ❞ He props himself up to lick her cheek. Just a languid stroke of his tongue that he knows she might playfully try to swat him away from doing. ❝ — mmm the delicious tears of my enemy ~ ❞ A playful chuckle. He'll shuffle to sit a little closer up on the pillows and invite her in his arms, as if it wasn't those same hands now caressing her that ravaged her like that in the first place.

❝ Come here. These guys are just bullies, right? We don't need to waste the whole day thinking about them — besides! Why don't you look at the bright side, you got a six week leave! And that means six weeks... with me! Aaaaall day, eeeeevery day... ❞ His palms cup her face to sway back and forth as he drags out the words. There's an inside joke there. And then he's squishing her cheeks and overall getting in her space and being obnoxious. ❝ Mmm, you'll have all the time in the world to play with me, and wash my hair and bring out the spiky strap 'cause I've been suuuuuch a bad boy~ It's going to be so much fun, I'll want to break your leg next time, babe. ❞

Will she even have room for a proper cry in between all the antics? His affections can be as oppressive as the hoarfrost, it seems.

[amortales]

there wasn’t a crowd that nikolai lantsov hadn’t won over in the matter of minutes or at most,  an hour,   but mal’s approval had been locked away at sea ever since they stepped on the shores of ravka.    the blame couldn’t entirely be on him,   because the prince’s title didn’t offer him the leverage here that it did in other places and among other soldiers,   because other soldiers did not have soulmates whom he wished to marry for political gains.    the sun saint was a symbol and so was the throne,   both of which had enough power to bring about change in his broken nation.   the bigger picture could not afford catering to the whims of an orphan.    

it saddened him ever so slightly,   to lose a friend so quickly.

❛   why would I want to be rid of your sparkling company?   you’ve said exactly six words and I’m sure at least two of them were just incoherent noises.   ❜    nikolai grinned,   brushing off the invisible dust from his cuff.   people shuffled to gather in the square,   and the prince noticed their faces marred with hunger and war.    ❛   I’d rather you stay.   maybe you can help me understand something here.   ❜     he said plainly,  turning away from the window.    ❛   tell me,  oretsev.   ❜    nikolai gestured towards the empty seat from across him while he leaned against a pillar,   observing the frown on mal’s face deepen with every passing minute.     ❛   do you hate me?   ❜ 

enduring  hostile  weather  conditions  was  a  daily  occurrence  during  his  time  spent  as  a  soldier  of  the  first  army,  and  it  wasn't  the  reason  behind  his  irritated  expression.  being  deceived  and  having  to  begrudgingly  follow  around  the  prince  of  ravka  while  he  paraded  alina  around  was  the  motive  behind  his  clenched  jaw  and  tense  posture.  if  alina  wanted  to  be  there  as  a  symbol  of  hope,  if  she  wanted  to  be  a  leader  for  the  second  army,  mal  was  powerless  to  do  anything  but  follow  her.  this  was  a  duty  he  was  willing  to  carry,  one  that  he  would  honor  no  matter  the  consequences.  

eyes  track  the  crowd  carefully,  in  the  search  for  any  sign  of  imminent  danger.  memories  of  their  treacherous  first  meeting  distracting  him  shortly  from  the  task,  expression  shifting  until  settling  for  a  frown.  mal  didn't  trust  @amortales  entirely,  that  much  was  true,  chest  contracting  uncomfortably  at  the  thought  of  being  disposable  next  to  nikolai.  this  was  a  life  that  he  couldn't  see  himself  living  for  the  rest  of  his  days,  he  could  only  hope  that  his  place  wasn't  so  easily  replaceable  by  the  bright  prince.  

“  trying  to  get  rid  of  me  ?  ”  lifting  his  gaze  from  its  previous  position,  mal  finally  looks  back  at  nikolai.  the  feeling  of  being  useless  is  something  that  has  been  following  him  around  like  a  shadow,  and  he'd  rather  get  rid  of  it.  “  i'll  go.  if  you  need  another  set  of  eyes.  ”  the  knowledge  that  his  presence  with  them  isn't  needed  doesn't  escape  him.  he  doesn't  have  any  powers  to  show,  no  position  high  enough  to  earn  him  respect  from  the  people  below  them. but  he  could  be  useful  in  a  different  way.

[chaseadrian]

don’t sabotage the lightshow

Six years out of high school, you've carved your own little home and built your own little family at a dive in Chicago, a family of runaways and survivors, like you. But when the new band shows up, a familiar face brings back all memories of Hawkins you wanted to forget. Threatening the sanctity of what you've built, you find yourself wondering if it might be worth tearing down anyway. [SERIES MASTERLIST]

pairing. eddie munson x f!reader tags. 18+ ONLY, minors DNI, original side characters, best friends to enemies, hate sex, reader smokes weed, mentions of drinking, semi-public sex, m receiving oral, vague references to traumatic past word count. 5.7k+ an. uh yeah i'm obsessed with this dude. this does take place in 1990, it's never explicitly said but just for clarity sake that's where we're at.

“Bandits surround you in the treasure room, prepared for a fight, but before anyone can draw their weapon, the corner of a stone pillar crumbles over Baron Hayes. Pebbles knock against your head, sending you stumbling into a shrine in the wall. The ground rumbles underneath you, and the bandits start falling one by one, a vibrant purple mist rushing in and out of their ears. 

They die before they can scream, blood trickling out onto the floor. You look around at each other, nerves seizing as the mist bends around you. This couldn’t be your last moment, could it?” 

You look around at the wide eyes in front of you, the grimaces and crossed fingers. 

The room swells with silence, and Baron Hayes breaks it, his eyes leaving yours to stare across the table. He reaches out, “Lilian, my lady, if this is our last mome—”

“Silence!” You shout, deepening your voice, “A booming voice shouts, and the mist swirls between you, blossoming into a thick mushroom cloud before it takes corporeal form, ‘This will not be your last moment. You need not fear me.’ The figure before you has pallid skin, he is adorned with jewels and dark hair, and the mist that felled your enemies swirls from his waist down.” 

“A djinn!” Lilian says, slapping the party member next to her. 

You smile behind your binder, “I am indeed the djinn Wymark,’ he says, floating closer to the Baron, ‘You have freed me, Baron Hayes.’ He gestures to the shrine, where a fading porcelain vase lies broken over a pile of jewels. Wymark holds a closed fist over his chest, ‘I am indebted to fulfill any wishes you so seek until you have completed your journey.’ 

Wymark waves a hand over his body, appearing before you as a full human and brushing the riches away from the shrine, revealing it to be a throne. He takes a seat, ‘I cannot, however, leave the grounds of my palace. You may bind me once more to the vase, but if it shatters again—”

A loud knock outside the room interrupts the final moments of your session, and you glare down the table at Lilian. 

“Iona.” Baron Hayes whines, letting his head fall back against his chair. 

She holds a finger up, “Sorry, Griff! Must be the band for tonight. One second!” 

You stare at the rest of your script, fingers tapping on the table as Iona rushes out the door. You can faintly hear her voice outside, “Hi fellas, and uh, gal! Come in, come in.”

She guides them into the office, “We’re just finishing up our little session. It’s nerdy, don’t mind us.”

You make a mental note to have Lady Lilian caught in a bear trap next session. 

“We’re just missing your lead singer, yeah?” 

“Yeah, yeah, he’s just running behind.” You look up at the musician that spoke, and flick your gaze to the shaggy-haired one that flops down on the couch with a grumble, “Running behind with all our equipment.” 

Iona waves a hand, “Oh people always shuffle in here late anyway.” She turns to your party, “Everyone, these are our new regulars—what’re you called again?” 

“Corroded Coffin.” 

A sting of familiarity plants itself in your brain, but you brush it off.

“Corroded Coffin, yes! This is Jeff, the guitarist, Gareth’s on the drums, Robin’s backup vocals, and of course, their incredible bassist—”

“Iona, can we wrap this up? They’re not going anywhere, right?” The party member next to her empty seat sits back, throwing a hand around the chair on his other side, his voice heavy with a Spanish accent, “Rin and Griff need to get the bar squared away because they forgot to do so last night.” He purses his lips, and pinches Rin’s shoulder. 

Rin rolls their eyes and sets their head in their hand. 

“Yes, Javi, fine.” She turns to the band, “Guys, these are the miscreants who keep The Kindling alive. Rin and Griffin, they’ll make you the strongest drinks at any club in Chicago. Our manager Javi here makes sure the place doesn’t get busted, and Selma will be the reason it goes down anyway.”

“That’s an ominous way of saying I photograph shit, Iona.” Selma says, “It’s true though, if you’re gonna do coke, do it in the bathroom.”

Gareth frowns at her, squinting his eyes. Robin looks between him and Selma, slack jawed, “I—is she for real?”

“Shush, Selma! No, she’s not. Nobody does coke in our bathrooms…they do it in the alley.” She laughs, “Anyway, last but not least is our amazing, super creative light tech slash DM—”

You interrupt her to offer your name, nodding at the band, “Nice to meet you.” 

Jeff nods back, “Yeah, good to meet you all.” He sits down next to Gareth, pulling the bassist down with him. Robin looks behind her to see the couch full, and she sits on the edge of the wooden coffee table next to it.

Iona claps her hands together once more, “Oh, good, now that that’s over! Sorry, Lady Lilian present and accounted for. Where were we?” She sits back down, flattening her palms on the table. 

You take a deep breath, “Wymark throws a leg over the other, ‘If my vase breaks once more I will be unable to accompany you, bound again to the palace until the enchantment that sent my castle to ruins is broken.’ It seems you have a choice before you now. Rid the Djinn of his enchantment, or risk taking him with you in a weak vessel?” You start shuffling your papers into a stack.

“But that is a question for next time.” The group groans together, and you smile as you shut your binder. 

“Alright, alright, quit the whining. You guys are gonna want to really think on this one.” 

The table starts picking up their figurines, dumping them into a small metal lunchbox and breaking the game board into four squares to fit alongside the pieces. You reach down into your bag and pull a half drunk water bottle out, downing it in one go, throat tired from affecting Wymark’s booming voice.

“You running a homebrew?” Gareth asks, leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees. 

He directs the question to you, but Griff answers, “Oh, yeah. She puts us through the ringer with the stories she comes up with. You guys play?” 

Robin shakes her head while the boys nod. 

“Not so much now,” Jeff says, “With college and the band and working to even afford to live in this city. But yeah, even had a club in high school.” 

“Sick.” Rin says, “We’d only heard the basic shit about you know, cults and sacrifices and all that before she got us into it.” They gesture towards you. 

Gareth scoffs, “Bullshit.” 

“Total bullshit.” Iona nods, “But I kind of can’t believe they let you run a club like that in Indiana. Aren’t they all like, mormon over there?” 

“You’re thinking of Utah.” Robin leans back on one hand, “Indiana’s evangelical.” She makes a cross in the air with her finger. Iona mouths an ‘ohh.’ 

“And anyway, screw that.” Gareth shifts to show the group a patch on his other arm, smiling. “We’re Hellfire through and through.”

Your friends laud its design, chattering about their own lack of branding—“Why don’t we have a cool name?” “Yeah, we should get patches.” “Yeah!”

You laugh and lean forward to get a better look.

You know that patch. 

You drew that patch. Or at least, the first draft of it. 

Without making a show of recognition, you nod in approval and sit back, “So, you guys are from Indiana?” 

They nod, and Jeff rolls his eyes, “Unfortunately, yeah. Wouldn’t recommend it.”

“Oh, I-I know. I grew up in Hawkins.” 

“No way, that’s where we’re from!” Robin says, laughing to herself, “Small world.” 

You flash a wan smile and scan their faces, rifling through memory to try and place them at all. 

No such luck, which is great. If you don’t recognize them, they don't recognize you—and if they do, they aren’t confident enough about it to say anything. You hold onto the hope that this is just a strange coincidence. They’re a band looking for their break, this is a city full of opportunity for such a thing. 

That’s all.

But even the reminder of Hawkins has you mentally checking out from this conversation, and you stuff your binder into your bag, reaching a hand out to Iona, “I’ll be upstairs if you need me. Good to meet you guys.”

You raise a hand to the band and throw the bag around your back, clapping Javi on the shoulder and bumping Rin’s fist as you pass behind them. 

Climbing the stairs, you shake your hands at your sides and press your nails into your palms, trying to push off memories of Hawkins. The group chatters downstairs, excited voices lamenting stories of past campaigns, fading the further up you go.

It’s silent on the balcony, and you flop down in the wheelie stool at your setup, sliders and buttons wired to the threadbare array of lights around the stage. You spin around, kicking off with the ball of your foot and circling until the wheels scoot you close enough to the controller table and you crash into it. 

When your vision stills, you look down at the stage to see the band sitting on the edge of it, kicking their feet as Iona chatters excitedly. You can’t hear what she says, not until another figure walks into view and she claps her hands. 

“Eddie!” She shouts, wrapping her arms around him. He pats her on the back with one hand, and you slide the chair over to the balcony’s ledge, holding out the last threads of hope that this isn’t the Eddie your mind immediately jumps to. 

Iona points up at you and waves, and what was only a vague possibility to you twenty minutes ago is now a fully realized scene playing out in slow motion. 

He looks up at you, the smile on his face fading as dread and disbelief fly through you.

You push on the ledge and roll back to the controller. You try to keep your leg from bouncing, try to regain some composure and still yourself, but it’s no use when you can hear the distinct tone of his voice downstairs. Inaudible as it is, you know the cadence well. 

“Hey!” A voice from behind startles you in the seat, hands grabbing the edge of the control table to keep it from sliding out under you. 

Selma strolls over, “You got the scrollers? They weren’t downstairs.” 

You point to a bag on the floor next to the table, “Yeah, yeah.” You clear your throat, “Javi caught someone snooping around backstage last show, he brought ‘em up here. Hey, um, did you see the lead singer?” 

Selma crouches over to rifle through the color lenses. She pops a finger up for every one, and smiles, looking up at you once she’s satisfied with the count, “I know. He’s legit, huh? He’s in my Visual Language class. I got Iona’s uncle his demo, they’re really—” 

You hunch over close to her, lowering your voice, “Wait, wait. He goes to UChicago?”

“Oh come on, it’s not just prep school jockies going to these nice schools now, y’know?” She taps her knuckles against your knee, “Why, you into him?”

You push back in the chair, straightening your posture, “No! No…no I just. I went to high school with him.” 

Selma stands up with the bag, “He’s from Hawkins, too? Color me surprised, I kinda thought the band picked him up on the side of the road somewhere.” She hums, “Him and Jeff kinda keep things close to the vest.” 

“Trust me, Sel. He is just another drop in the ocean of that town. He looks different from the normies, but he’s…” You trail off, shaking your head to yourself. 

“Hey,” Her voice softens, “Being reminded of home would shake any of us, and you know we got you no matter what, okay? Say the word and Javi kicks ‘em to the curb.” 

She holds the bag in front of her, feet together, features empathetic. 

You roll around in the chair, resting your back against the edge of the table and crossing your arms, “Yeah, no, I know, but…they’ll be good for the club. I’m alright, promise.” 

Selma squints her eyes at you, “Swear?” She holds up a pinkie, and you laugh, wrapping your own pinkie around hers. 

“Swear.” 

“Good, now I gotta get these downstairs. Iona said purple, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Great.” She mock salutes you at the top of the stairs, “Standby.” 

You return the salute, and roll back over to the ledge, resting your forearms on the cold wood. You plop your chin down in your hands before letting it loll onto your arm, cheek squished as you watch Selma slide the scrollers onto each light. 

The band is too busy setting up their equipment to notice you watching them, Eddie’s jacket tossed on an amp, wearing a plain black shirt with the sleeves rolled up as he unwraps cords and throws Gareth’s drumsticks at him with a smile. He’s broader now, more adult. The acne that you could see from space when he hit puberty was barely visible, if there at all. 

He���s kept his long locks, though it looks like he learned how to take care of them. All waves and shine converse to the matte frizz you once knew. 

You put your hands out in front of you, now trying to picture them as they were when you last saw him. Were there less wrinkles? Had they changed tone in the Chicago weather? Looking in the mirror each morning, you gave little thought to how you’d changed since high school. Maybe your smile lines were deeper now, maybe there was a little more hair in the sink each time you brushed it. 

Nothing much made you care. Naught except the sudden presence of someone who knew that version of you. Knew you when you were shiny and brand new, a witness to the way life broke you in. The way it broke you both until you turned on each other. 

The sharp feedback from the stage cuts you from your thoughts, and you watch everyone cringe as Jeff plugs his guitar into the large amp. Eddie sticks a finger in his ear and does the same. You exhale a laugh, watching Iona press her palms to either side of her head and walk away. 

Selma shoots you a thumbs up from downstairs, and you roll back to the control table, hitting buttons and sliding tabs until you can see the stage lit up in purple. Neon violet lights against the black wall contrast with the overhead rig, constant in its white-yellow hue. Eddie hovers his hand above his face, blocking the blinding light and looking up at you. 

You don’t know if he can see your head poking over the control table, but you shrink down anyway, shoulders jerking back in a quick spasm of nerves. You stand up to turn the stage lights off, shaking your hands at your side before flopping down on the couch. The ceiling light burns into your retina, and you throw a wrist over your eyes as the band starts warming up. 

It’s a half-assed practice, and you can hear laughter after every missed note. Right now it’s not Eddie’s voice in the mic, but what you can only assume to be Robin’s. Raspy, understated, still sweet. She makes up choruses for every melody they come up with. They aren’t great, by any means, but there’s a smile in her voice. You’d much prefer hearing her over Eddie. 

They cycle halfway through a couple songs, volume on the amps lowered, music echoing through the empty club. Closing your eyes, you try once more to push away all you can of Hawkins, of Eddie. The music helps, Robin’s voice not quite fit for metal, but she makes a passable attempt. You can understand how it might fit with Eddie’s in the overall ensemble, a soothing constant to grab onto behind the bashing of drums and intricate, electric riffs. 

Your friends downstairs cheer for the band once the music stops, more excited chatter and the ‘clink’ of beer bottles. 

You raise your head to the familiar pattern of footsteps, a prick of relief in your chest knowing it’s not Eddie. 

“Here.” Javi throws you a water bottle before walking into the control booth at the back of the room. Radio metal starts playing out the speakers of the club, and you sit up to take a drink.

He rolls around the doorway, leaning against it and fiddling with the chain around his neck.

He has to yell over the music, “You good?” 

“Mm, Javi, fine.” You lay back down, throwing a leg over the back of the couch and shooting him a thumbs up. 

“Doors open in ten, so I’m locking the office. Keys—”

“Keys in the skull jar, thank you, I know.” 

“Are you sure everything’s okay?” 

“All good!” You pop the cap off the water and tilt a few droplets into your open mouth, sitting up when it dribbles onto your shirt.

You brush the water off and smile at him, “Really, just go do your job.” 

“Tch, you do yours!” He rolls his eyes at you, shaking his head and feigning offense. 

A wave of giddiness passes through your stomach, and you laugh at him as he points from his eyes to yours, “I’m watching you!” He goes down backward on the stairs, keeping his eyes on you until the stairwell blocks the view.

He slams the office door as he always does when you’re up there alone, his calling card to tell you the door is locked. That you’re safe. The Kindling isn’t the seediest of clubs in Chicago, but that wasn’t saying much. 

Patrons shuffle in as expected, and you sit once more at the ledge of the balcony, staring at the empty stage. Strangers bump into strangers, drinks in hand, spilling over the rim and onto the forever sticky floor. You turn your wrist over, and trudge to the sound mixer, silencing the speaker music just as Iona takes the stage. 

You plop back down in your stool, chin on your forearm, reaching lazily over to turn on a couple overhead lights flanking her.

“Helloooo!” She speaks into the microphone, curtsying a little when several patrons whistle at her. 

“I won’t waste any time up here, you’re all really gonna like these guys. Let me be the first to introduce your new favorite local band: Corroded Coffin!” She claps, and as the band enters you raise the rest of the overhead rig, illuminating them as they take their places. 

Eddie throws his guitar strap over his shoulders, and grabs the mic stand, the crowd buzzing in front of them, “Alright! Alright, I, uh,” He looks over at Robin with a smile, then to Jeff and the bassist at his other side, “I won’t waste your time either.” 

“We’re Corroded Coffin, let’s go!” He kicks his foot against the floor as Jeff plays the first sting, and you slide up the power on the violet lights, the crowd matching Eddie’s immediate energy. 

They’re good, better than you expected. You always knew Eddie to be talented, to have a future if he actually tried. As you predicted, Robin’s voice is a subtle mix-in with Eddie’s gruff tenor, but she has the same energy as the rest of them onstage. Where Eddie’s shredding at a mic stand, she’s dragging her wired microphone around, jumping in time to the music, her short bobbed hair flicking back and forth. She’s great, they’re great, and it shoots a sharp spiral of frustration through your side. 

You sit there at the controller, flicking this light and that, the violet lights off during Jeff’s guitar solo, his figure just illuminated by the white overhead rig. Purple on Eddie when he has a solo, feet planted firm and intimidating as he sings into the mic, his gaze wiping over the crowd. 

People in the audience reach out for him, a woman even drops out her tits when his eyes rake over her. Oh they like them, for sure, and by the smile on Eddie’s face, by Jeff’s wide eyes and Robin’s awkward, interrupting laugh into the microphone, they also like the attention. Even the quieter patrons on the sides are singing along to the covers they know, bobbing their heads to the originals they’ll come to learn.

He tilts his head up at you several times throughout the set, brief glances behind blinding stage lights. You hate that he knows you’re up there, hate having to watch his every move. You conduct these shows from an invisible seat, and that’s the way you like it, but you don’t feel invisible now. Every time he stares up towards you, it feels like he’s peeling off a new layer, skin and muscle and nerve until you’re down to the bone. He grins at the mic as though he knows this.

After a short half hour of adrenaline and bright lights and an audience shoving their way to the front, the band is dripping in sweat, hair clinging to their faces, jackets and flannels tossed to the side every other song until they’re in tank tops and t-shirts. Eddie raises a hand above the crowd, waiting for them to settle into a normal chatter. 

“We are oh-so grateful for you tonight,” He grins, “How about one last song, huh?”

They roar in front of him, and he laughs into the mic, “Now this just came out last month, so we will forgive you if you don’t know it yet,” Eddie slides his hand up the neck of his guitar and back down, “But you’re gonna learn.” 

With that, the crowd returns to its previous state, and Eddie stares up at you behind the lights as he sings. You slide over to the ledge and look back; if he can’t see you he’s doing a convincing job pretending otherwise.

—reduction is addictive too

Personality overview

I can see what the cost will be

He wraps a hand around the microphone, bringing his lips right up to it.

You know I don't need you

I just can't Put You Down

I can see what it all means to me

Honey I don't need you

I just can't Put You Down

Frustration boils in your stomach once more, and you storm down the steps to the club’s breaker box and flick off the main switch. The lights shut off, the crowd shouting their disappointment as you grab the keys from the jar and rush outside. 

“Sorry, everyone! Must’ve tripp—” Is all you can hear from Iona onstage before the metal door slams shut. 

You pull a blunt and lighter from the pocket of your flannel, shaky hand bringing it to your lips. It does little to cool the all over fury you feel rattling your body. Frigid air nips at your wrists, at your neck. The cold seems to come earlier every year in Illinois, wind chill reaching you now at the tail end of summer. 

You stand there in the dark alcove, a little space with trash cans and a pile of cigarette butts mostly blocked off from the rest of the world. You burn down the blunt until you feel it calming your mind. A calm that’s short lived before the metal door across from you opens, and Eddie strolls out, kicking a nearby brick up against the door to prop it open. You can hear the music inside, the loud chatter. 

He nods at you, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket.

You scoff and start moving further into the alcove, but he follows you.

“Weird thing, the circuit breaker.” He slides a cigarette from the pack, and walks over to you, holding the end of it up to the blunt in your hand until it catches. “You’d think…place like this? Wouldn’t get overloaded so easily.” 

“You’d think.” 

“Alright, cut the shit.” He raises his eyebrows and smiles, but there’s no friendliness there. He shrugs, “Why’d you do it.” 

You scoff, “Really gotta ask that?” Bringing the blunt to your lips, you take another long drag and blow it into his face. 

“Yeah,” He nods, “Yeah, I do. Because if you wanted to fuck up the show, you would’ve done it way earlier.” 

You kick at your heel with the toe of your boots, “Didn’t like you looking at me like that.” 

“I’m looking at you now.”

“Yeah, and I don’t like it. So if you could fuck off, that’d be great.”

You flick the cigarette out of his mouth. 

Eddie smashes it with the toe of his sneakers, “Come on, you really mad at me because we fell out?” He licks his thumb and forefinger, snuffing out the end of your blunt and pulling it from your mouth to toss in the trash. “It’s been what, six years? People move on.” 

You swallow hard, brows knitting together, “Yeah, and I have my own shit now. My own shit that I’m not gonna let you take from me.” 

He laughs at you, “You’re still on that Hellfire bullshit? It was my club!” 

“It was ours, Eddie, ours!” You knock your hand against the side of the trash can. 

The year flashes through your brain in a matter of seconds. The rescheduled sessions, half-assed apologies, A’s on your report card and F’s on Eddie’s. The deeper into senior year you got, the more he pulled away. The acceptance letter in your mailbox filled your stomach with more dread than excitement, but when Eddie found out, you suddenly couldn’t wait to leave.

“It was ours, and you cut me out.” 

“Fuck, whatever, what’s done is done, right?” He throws his hands up, and pulls at the hem of his shirt, wiping the sweat off his face. 

Your gaze drops to his waist, to the faintly toned muscle of his abdomen, taut, pale scars covering his skin. Your stomach lurches, hot and angry and tightening as he wipes the sweat from his brow. The tendons in his hands flex, and your eyes pause on each ringed finger, on the callouses at his fingertips. 

He smashes his bangs up against his hairline, revealing a little spattering of acne on the skin. You smile to yourself. 

Resetting your composure, you press a finger into his shoulder, catching the edge of his collarbone, “You guys wanna play your shitty little covers, feel free, but stay away from me, okay? And Corroded Coffin, really? You stuck with that stupid name from middle school?”

“And? What’s wrong with it?” 

“Come on, Ed, Corrosion of Conformity isn’t that underground. And even that name is shit.” 

“We had that name first.”

You look down and shrug, “Yeah, well. What do I know, anyway. Leaving Hawkins is the only good idea I’ve ever had, right?” 

Eddie’s first acknowledgement of everything you created together lights you up once more with anger, your stomach knotting further. 

He just stands there, and it deepens your fury. 

“Huh?” You push him backwards. He takes a step back and slaps your hand away, jaw clenching. 

You want to push him until he breaks. 

“Right, Eddie?” Another shove, his heels just about connecting with the wall, and he wraps a hand around your bicep to keep you from shoving him again.. You smile and exhale a laugh, “Leaving Hawkins, leaving you, was the best idea I’ve ever had.” 

He grabs the back of your hair and forces your head away from him. 

Smelling like smoke and sweat, the wet hem of his shirt clings to the exposed strip of your stomach. He tugs your head back more, baring your throat, his eyes flicking to your lips and back. He swallows hard, “Yeah. It was.” 

Letting out a choked laugh, you squint your eyes at him, “Well, I had to. My life was going somewhere.”

“Fuck you.” He whispers.

“You did, Ed. Remember?” Smile still on your lips, voice low and hard, “Or is that why you’ve been staring at me all night?” 

You stand on your tiptoes, your nose grazing his, “Forgot I was the first notch on your belt? Wanted to check it off before you tear through Chicago, for old times sake?”

Eddie stands there staring, tightened grip in your hair, fingers pressing harder into your bicep. His breath hits your lips, hot and languid and shaking. You grab a fistful of his shirt, his chest rising and falling underneath your knuckles while he tries to steady his breathing.

“C’mon then, Ed,” You say, “Fucking take what you want.” You spit, bringing your lips to his. You leave them hovering too close for comfort, his cupid’s bow brushing against your bottom lip. He tilts his head up, just shy of a real kiss, a stone’s throw from giving in. 

He pauses, and you whisper against his mouth, “Take what you want, or let me go.” 

Several thick, silent seconds pass before his grip falters, big brown eyes shiny with reflected moonlight, and you step back from him. 

Turning to go back inside, you mutter to yourself, “I knew you wouldn’t. Fucking coward.” 

Eddie’s sneakers slide over the littered pavement, and he yanks you back just as you’re reaching for the door, “Don’t ever call me that.” His voice is rough, like there’s gravel in his throat, and his eyes burn into you when he speaks. 

You hide the smile on your face and force away the excitement in your chest as he pushes you up against the brick wall. You got him; whatever bullshit tough guy act he puts on now is a front for the boy who’s always been wrapped around your finger. He fumbles with his belt while his teeth sink into your neck, and you swat his hands away when they try to undo your jeans. They come back hard on your hips, shoving you into the wall, and he yanks down the jeans.

The cold air has little opportunity to make its way between your bodies before he’s grinding himself into you, a hand coming up tight over your mouth. There’s scarce warm-up for either of you, all crude language and his teeth on your neck.

The sweaty shelf of his pelvis ruts against you, sparking the nerves of your clit, a wash of arousal building in your belly. You’d never give him the verbal satisfaction of knowing you like any of this. Love when the head of his cock pushes you open, stretching your walls with hard, fast pumps. 

Before the pressure on your clit and in your stomach climbs to the point of overwhelming, Eddie spins you around, fucking you from behind, his hand squeezing your jaw until it hurts. 

He fills you so entirely, but you bat away the urge to reach behind you and grab the backs of his thighs. Resist the incessant, nagging thought of your hands on his ass, pushing him into you.  

Instead, you focus on digging your knuckles into the wall, the sharp sting of old brick against your skin. The top layer will be flaked and scabbing tomorrow, but it’s worth it to keep your composure. Keep him from knowing how close you are, how the harsh thrust of his cock hits you right where you need it, vitriol and hate and history just added fuel to the fire in your chest. 

You open your palms on the wall, pushing into him on the edge of your orgasm. It crests as he pulls out and you’re overwhelmed by the sudden anger you feel with his eyes on you, watching you lose yourself like this. He shifts his hand on your mouth, and you bite down onto his forefinger, expecting him to yank it away. It’s a surprise that he doesn’t, that he instead grabs you by your jaw and spins you around, fingers squeezing your cheeks. 

He presses one hard kiss to your open mouth, lips tasting of smoke and beer. He spits onto your tongue and pushes you down to your knees, sliding between your lips. 

You drag your teeth over his shaft, staring up at him, watching pain and frustration flash over his features before he pulls hard on your hair. You concede this once, concede because he’s put himself at your mercy, given you the power. Because the man you hate has a body you love, and fuck if you won’t use it to fill your needs.

Despite this, you refuse to work for him the way you would for anyone else. You’re lazy with your lips, careless with your teeth; you keep your tongue flat and motionless under his length. 

With mounting frustration and an orgasm just out of reach, Eddie starts pushing into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat, pioneering a concentrated effort to make you gag. 

This is another satisfaction you won’t give him, all focus dedicated to opening your throat. 

It’s a success short lived when you feel his orgasm pumping over your tongue. You’d intended to spit it back at him—swallowing would be a courtesy he didn’t deserve—but you’re slow on the uptake, and before you can register how his hips jerk and his breath grows heavy, he’s pulled out.

You spit at his feet anyway, wiping your mouth and staring at him as he tugs his jeans up. 

He grabs another cigarette from the pack.

Yanking the handkerchief from his back pocket, you stand up and swipe it between your legs before throwing it in the trash. 

Eddie tries to catch it mid-air and fails, the glare he sends your way could burn a hole in you if you cared. 

“Guess we’ll be seeing more of each other,” He says.

Fixing your jeans, you pull the keys from your jacket pocket and grab the edge of the door, kicking the brick he’d set out of the way, “Unfortunately.” 

You slap a hand against the red ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY’ sign on the outside of the door and slam it shut.

[swtki]

Nothing - C. D

Pairing: Cedric Diggory x fem! Reader

Summary: Fears arise when Y/N wants to tell Cedric how many people she’s been with.

Warnings: mentions of sex, angst, swearing, not virgin reader.

A/N: yes this is based off of my feelings and Y/N is me but also this ones for my high body count bitches <3 ur sexy luv u xx.

He was perfect, absolutely flawless. The Golden Boy of Hogwarts stood tall and lean in his quiditch uniform, talking to some mates. I watched from the stone archway as I didn’t want to interrupt the conversation, not that he would have minded much. Cedric was always happy to see me, he loved dropping everything if it meant I was beside him.

His conversation ended once he spotted me and his face lit up in a smile. He did a small jog over to my place on the stone pillar, he immediately pulled me into a warm hug; which despite it being September and warm outside, I accepted with open arms. The scent of his cologne filled my head, replacing the world around me.

“Hey,” he lifted his head and kissed the top of mine, “I feel like I haven’t seen you in months.”. I smiled, he was in love with me and we both knew it.

“You just saw me like two hours ago.” I laugh and pull away. Six months of seeing each other and our relationship was exciting and we longed to see each other constantly. As we walked, our hands linked together, it was natural for us.

“You know,” Cedric said as we tossed our books onto the plush grass, “Christmas break is coming up.”

���Yeah, I guess it is.” I reply, shrugging my shoulders. “You’ll go home, I stay here as per usual?”

“Actually, I’ve convinced my Dad to go visit some relatives in America, so I’ll be here.” He noticed my confused expression. “I just want to spend this year with you, since you never go home and your owl isn’t the best at flying to a location.” I laughed, he wqs right; my owl was a poor bastard.

“I see...are you sure you won’t miss home? Theres not going to be anyone here - I mean except the handfull of other Hufflepuffs that stay. Its awfully boring.” I watched his face soften, leaning in closer to me.

“Thats exactly why I wan’t to stay.” The air outside was cold, but his warm body made it bearable. “You’ve never spent the night with me - sleeping in my bed, I mean. I dunno, just kind of thought you might like a sleep over in the prefects dorm.”.

“Oh.” I looked back down at my feet, avoiding his eyes. He was right, we’d never been in the others room, never mind going to sleep in it. I knew he would never expect me to have sex with him, he genuinely just wanted to see me - to hold me for just one night.

“I know we haven’t ever...y’know, so I of course don’t think this is my lucky chance or anything. Although, if it were I would love it - because you know it would be my first time-“ he quickly shut up when he realized I had gone stiff. There it was, the truth that he could tell me and I couldn’t tell him; He was a virgin, I was far from it.

“I need to um...I need to think about it. Okay, Ced? Don’t think you’ve said anything wrong, I’m just afraid that I might.” Kissing him on the cheek, I stood and walked towards the library. “Fuck.” slithered out of my mouth as I made my harsh steps.

The library was dim, candlelight and sounds of quills filling it. I spotted my closest friend, Mae, and thumped myself down into the wooden chair next to her.

“If you’ve come to arrange Hogsmeade plans I’m afraid Professor-“

“Cedric’s a virgin.” I said quietly, she relaxed and looked sympathetically at me.

“Haven’t we known that?”

“Well...yes, but he confirmed it. He wants me to spend the night with him.”

“And you don’t want to?” there was a hint of amusement in her voice.

“No!” I whispered, “Of course I do. Everytime I see him in that quidditch jersey I wanna give him a proper shag.”

“He is absolutley fit, who wouldn’t?” I glared at her. “So, whats the problem then?”

I huffed and rolled my eyes to the back of my head. “I haven’t told him how many I’ve had. He thinks I’m as pure as can be.” Maes face fell along side my own.

“Honestly, Y/N? Cedric loves you so I don’t think it will be too much of an issue, if it is then he’s not worth it. Besides its not like over three, yeah?” I quickly lost eye contact with her. “Oh.”

“Over five, to be honest.” I shamefully admit.

“Listen, whatever number it is won’t matter to him. He cares about you, not how many lads you’ve shagged.” Mae stood and collected her belongings, “I’ve gotta run, I’ll see you at dinner in a few.” We waved goodbye to each other.

The next Saturday soon approached, and most of the young witches and wizards departed in its place. Mae had gone home for the holidays, offering me her long distanced support for the talk I needed to have with Cedric. I desperately wanted to avoid it, telling him could ruin everything I’d come to love.

I softly knocked on the smooth wooden door, listening to the shuffle behind it. Cedric opened it and ushered me in, taking my jacket off as soon as I was. His room was warm, rather small yet clean as could be. It could only fit his twin bed, a dresser, and a desk, all the necessities.

“Would you like to borrow one of my sweaters? I don’t want you to be cold or anything?” He said nervously.

“Oh, I’m alright, this is one of your sweaters actually” I pulled at the hem of my top, we both gave a soft laugh. “Its sort of strange,” I looked around the space, “being in your room, I mean. Nice, welcome of course, yet its still a strange feeling.”

“Theres not much option for seating, so I’ll let you have your choice.” I smiled and studied the chair, it was old and wooden.

“I’ll take the bed, I suppose.” I sat down on top of the yellowish orange quilt and he made himself comfortable on the chair. “Cedric, I need to talk to you about something.” His smile turned to a worried expression. “Do you want to be physical with me? I of course want you more than anything, but I know you’re a virgin so I want to wait for you to be ready. I want you to trust me, and I don’t know. If you don’t want to be intimate yet then we can leave this discussion til then, its not pressing.” I looked down at the floor, feeling the bed dip next to me as he sat. He took my hand into his, tilting his head down so he could look me in the eye.

“Y/N, of course I do. Nothing you tell me is going to change how much I love you, nothing. Please, don’t feel like you must hide yourself from me.” His eyes were gentle, his voice smooth as honey.

“I’m not exactly first in line for the chastity competition, well - actually, I’m probably not even tenth. Its not in the hundreds or anything like that, but there are a number of lads who have seen me in compromising positions. I don’t have anything, but if you want to hold off on being intimate I completely understand.” He brought his hand to my cheek, bringing my face to look at his. He kissed me gently and squeezed my left hand.

“Like I said, nothing is going to change how much I love you. I don’t care if its three or three million, you know it will never be the same with them as it will be with me, because I love you, and you’re the woman I’ve been waiting to give my virginity to.” he wrapped his warm arms around me, pulling me into his chest. “I love you, Y/N”

“I love you. Would it be a bad time to ask if you have a johnny tonight, just for future reference of course.” we both smiled, the room being filled with a mixture of love and warmth.

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